ButIhadlostsomething，too.Ihadlostsomethingwhichcouldnev—erberestoredtomewhileIlived.Allthegrace，thebeauty，thepoetry，hadgoneoutofthemajesticriver!Istillkeepinmindacertainwonder—fulsunsetwhich1witnessedwhensteamboatingwasnewtome.Abroadexpanseoftheriverwasturnedtoblood；inthe,middledistancetheredhuebrightenedintogold，throughwhichasolit~ylogcamefloatingblackandconspicuous；inoneplacealong，slantingmarklaysparklinguponthewater；inanotherthesurfacewasbrokenbyboiling，tumblingrings，thatwereasmanytintedasanopal；wheretheruddyflushwasfaintest，wasasmoothspotthatwascoveredwithgracefulcirclesandradiatinglines，everSOdelicatelytraced；theshoreonourleftwasdenselywood—ed，andthesombreshadowthatfellformthisforestwasbrokeninoneplacebyalong，ruffledtrialthatshonelikesilver；andhighabovetheforestwallaclean——stemmeddeadtreewavedasingleleafyboughthatglowedlikeaflameintheunobstructedsplendourthatwasflowingfromthesun.Thereweregracefulcurves，reflectedimages，woodyheights，softdistances；andoverthewholescene，farandear，thedissolvinglightsdriftedsteadily，enrichingiteverypassingmomentwithnewmarvelsofcolouring.No，theromanceandbeautywereallgonefromtheriver…