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CHAPTER XI.
THE MOORABOOL.
"Know ye not that lovely river?
Know ye not that smiling river?"
Early morning, or a summer's evening such as Keats describes as—
"Full loth this happy world to leave."
is the time for river-side wanderings, when we can divest ourselves of our cares and—
"Bare our foreheads to the cool blue sky,"
for it is at such times the whole world of Nature which retires during the fierce heat of mid-day comes forth in search of food and enjoyment. Let the true lover of Nature, intent on enquiring into her mysteries be stirring early; an hour after sunrise by the river's brink will give him matter for reflection the whole day long,—it is then the joyous matin song of the feathered tribes may be heard; then the innumerable families of insects issue forth from their many abiding places to fulfil their destined ends;—the finny tribes too intent on breakfast, as doubtless we shall be ere long,—rise greedily to prey on any stray bonne bouche, which has been wafted on the surface of their element, and the cattle return eagerly with that soft pleasant lowing, which sends our memories back to farm-yards of the old country, from the close stalls wherein they have been pent up for the night, to the grassy dew-sprinkled pastures which they love. How
