Wallace River, Wentworth Valley
A drive or, better still, a walk through the valley will bring a hundred pleasures to those who love nature and the beautiful. Here is the winding Wallace River, and here, too, are fifty tiny streams, waterfalls and brooks. Some are dashing headlong and sparkling in the sun; others, with white foam shaded to a cream by the overhanging trees, have inner depths that the eye cannot fathom until accustomed to the narrow limits of light and shade.
The air is musical with falling and rippling water, so here let us take a seat by the side of this merry cascade and listen to Nature’s harmonies. So various are the notes, each waterfall having its own, it is not difficult to select sounds that make melodies. But whatever the melody, the dominant harmony is that of joy and gladness, and as the eye views mountain, valley, woodland, river, waterfall and plashing brook, surely no fairer scene could well be imagined.
And listen to the birds as they add their merry roundelay.
“Break out and sing, ye happy birds!
Your tender music needs no words
To tell us everything.”
But the green shade of the woodland is inviting, and following the gayest and most dashing of little streams that ever ran from mountain side to woodland depths, we trace a path by the wild flowers, and pass in, deeper and deeper. Right at the threshold is the daisy.
“No shame feels she, though in lowly place,