Excerpt from The River

From the rapt loneliness of her cradle, from her secret fountains, where the red sundew glimmers and cotton grasses wave unseen. Dart comes wandering southward with a song. Her pools and silent places mirror the dawn; noontide sunshine glitters along the granite aprons of her thousand falls; the wind catches her volume leaping downward, and flings it aloft into rainbows by day and moonlit veils by night. Beneath the echoing hills she passes, under the grey rain or silver mist she takes her most musical course; and presently, the richer by many a little sister river, grows into adult beauty of being, swells to the noblest stream in all the West Country, descends from her high places and winds, full fraught with mystery and loveliness, into the lives of men. Thereupon legends arise from her crystal depths; stories, sinister enough, are whispered; romance awakens to brood by her deep reaches and hanging woods. Henceforth humanity grows concerned with Dart, and, even as man pollutes her current with drosses and accretions from caldron or vat, so by him is her character clouded, her fair name maligned.

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