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Updated: May 22, 2025
As I know now, Bowers over-estimated the size of this strange island of sea-waifs and sea-weed by nearly one-half; and he was partly wrong as to the making of it: for the Sargasso Sea is not where any current ends, but lies in that currentless region of the ocean that is found to the east of the main Gulf Stream and to the south of the branch which sweeps across the North Atlantic to the Azores; and its floating stuff is matter cast off from the Gulf Stream's edge into the bordering still water as a river eddies into its pools twigs and dead leaves and such-like small flotsam and there is compacted by capillary attraction and by the slow strong pressure of the winds.
Above and around, the steeper slopes bore only fir trees, whose cone-shaped or spiky forms, sometimes burnt and charred, sometimes dead and grey, but for the most part green and glossy, from shore and slope and ridge pointed always to the blue zenith. The log-house, with its rougher sheds, was hard by the stream's ravine. About the other sides of it stretched a few acres of tilled land.
The inhabitants pay Government so much per hour for the running of the stream into their gardens; but some have an hereditary possession in a certain quantity of the time of the stream's running. Of this they are naturally very proud. For ordinary household purposes the water is given without cost.
One another's beauty through the visage into the character was newly perceived and worshipped; and the beauties of pastoral Thames, the temple of peace, hardly noticed in the passing of the day taken as air to the breather; until some chip of the scene, round which an emotion had curled, was vivid foreground and gateway to shrouded romance: it might be the stream's white face browning into willow-droopers, or a wagtail on a water-lily leaf, or the fore-horse of an up-river barge at strain of legs, a red-finned perch hung a foot above the pebbles in sun-veined depths, a kingfisher on the scud under alders, the forest of the bankside weeds.
One day in the wilderness, as my canoe was sweeping down a beautiful stretch of river, I noticed a little path leading through the water grass, at right angles to the stream's course. Swinging my canoe up to it, I found what seemed to be a landing place for the wood folk on their river journeyings.
We wouldn't care to turn back, and we've got to go through. If they did it, so can we. I don't believe this stream's as bad, anyhow, as the Fraser or the Columbia, because the traders must have used it for a regular route long ago." "I was reading," said John, "in Simon Fraser's travels, about how they did in the rapids of the Fraser River. Why, it was a wonder they ever got through at all.
One day in the spring of 1820, a singular occurrence took place on one of the upper tributaries of the Mississippi. The bank, some fifteen or twenty feet in height, descended quite abruptly to the stream's edge.
"I don't know that I expect to convert you; but at least I am glad to make my position clear. I don't assume that I am in the right. I only know that I am trying to do what appears to me to be right, trying to simplify the issues of life, to unravel the tangle in which so many people seem to me to acquiesce helplessly and timidly." The Mill The Stream's Pilgrimage
The reappearance of the fertile soil, after the receding inundation, doubtless suggested the idea of creation out of water, and the stream's slow but automatic fall would furnish a model for the age-long evolution of primaeval deities.
But enough of these examples of the mighty stream's eccentricities for the present I will give a few more of them further along in the book. Let us drop the Mississippi's physical history, and say a word about its historical history so to speak.
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