rmonizing in all things. She will take colors that placed side
by side in silks would cry to heaven for a separation, and combine
them in a flower group, or sometimes indeed in a single flower,
so skilfully that we accept the whole as beautiful without a
question.

While I enjoy these things an eddy of wind brings from down the
stream the fresh, moist smell of the water itself, and running
through this I note just a suggestion of musk. All the other
scents and sounds have been of a soothing quality, especially in
combination with each other. In this suggestion of musk is
something which bids one sit up and watch out. By and by I see the
beast, a muskrat, steamboating his way up the rapids like a furry
Maid-of-the-Mist, or perhaps I should say a submarine, that
navigates the surface with but little bulk exposed. Presently he
proves himself a submarine by diving in a shallow. I see his paws
stirring up mud and presently again he comes to the surface with a
fresh-water clam. Clams in August are good, though I confess I
have never tried the freshwater variety. The muskrat knows,
however, that these are good. He sits up on a rock, washes the mud
carefully from his catch, opens it as readily as if his incisors
were a knife, smacks his lips over the last of its contents, peers
into the empty shell as if he hoped to find a pearl, drops them
and bustles on his way. I do not know his errand and I doubt if he
does, but I know it was an important one by the way he goes on it.

The passing of the beast, however, upset the life of the shallow,
amber pool. The mud of his digging had no more than cleared away
before the under-water creatures of the place, jackals on the
lion's spoor, came forward, eager to feast on the remnants of his
meal. Bream, sunning themselves on the shallow margins of the
other side, give a sinuous swish to their tails and dart up. A
yellow perch poises, slips forward a yard, poises again and then
thinking the place safe, comes forward for his share. In beauty
and intelligence the yellow perch is easily the king of the brook
waters and I can but admire his coloring, not only for its beauty
but for its protective value. His dark back makes him almost
invisible from directly above. Should you get a glimpse of his
side you might well think it but the ripple of sunlight and shadow
in the water, so well is this simulated by the broad bands of
green and yellow which run from the dark back down the sides. It
is onl