them; and canoeists on the Connecticut can easily avoid them by finding out when they start and cease running. But they always keep in the current; they people the river with odd and interesting fellow-voyagers, and they are as harmless as sheep in a meadow when you know how to handle them.
Since this trip on the Connecticut, we have canoed many other rivers, some of them streams of much greater volume. We had in these the width of water, the calm greatness of the flow, the splendid reaches unbroken by falls and rapids and dams; but we often missed the over-hanging branches, the flash and twitter among the leaves, the shadows that made the river look deep as the sky, and the murmur of the little brown brooks that are lost in the great stream, leaving only their names, like Bromidon, clinging to the water like naiads.
