How calm and lovely the river was! Not a ripple stirred on the
glassy surface, broken only by the sharp cutwater of our tiny
craft. The sun, as round and red as an August moon, was by this
time peering above the water-line.
The town had drifted behind us, and we were entering among the
group of islands. Sometimes we could almost touch with our boat-
hook the shelving banks on either side. As we neared the mouth of
the harbor, a little breeze now and then wrinkled the blue water,
shook the spangles from the foliage, and gently lifted the spiral
mist-wreaths that still clung alongshore. The measured dip of our
oars and the drowsy twitterings of the birds seemed to mingle with,
rather than break, the enchanted silence that reigned about us.
The scent of the new clover comes back to me now, as I recall that
delicious morning when we floated away in a fairy boat down a river
like a dream!
The sun was well up when the nose of the Dolphin nestled against
the snow-white bosom of Sandpeep Island.
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