Good work and happy work for the
merry mountain raindrops, each one of them a brave fall in itself,
rushing from the cliffs and hollows of the clouds into the cliffs and
hollows of the mountains; away from the thunder of the sky into the
thunder of the roaring rivers. And how far they have to go, and how many
cups to fill--cassiope-cups, holding half a drop, and lake basins
between the hills, each replenished with equal care--every drop God's
messenger sent on its way with glorious pomp and display of
power--silvery new-born stars with lake and river, mountain and
valley--all that the landscape holds--reflected in their crystal depths.
CHAPTER XIII
THE WATER-OUZEL
The waterfalls of the Sierra are frequented by only one bird,--the Ouzel
or Water Thrush (_Cinclus Mexicanus_, SW.). He is a singularly
joyous and lovable little fellow, about the size of a robin, clad in a
plain waterproof suit of bluish gray, with a tinge of chocolate on the
head and shoulders. In form he is about as smoothly plump and compact as
a pebble that has been whirled in a pot-hole, the flowing contour of his
body being interrupted only by his strong feet and bill, the crisp
wing-tips, and the up-slanted wren-like tail.
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