Auntie Sue laughed. “You foolish boy. My river out there doesn't go straight at all. It meets all sorts of obstacles, and is beset by all sorts of conflicting influences, and so is forced to wind and twist and work its way along; but, the big, splendid thing about the river is that it keeps going on. It never stops to turn back. No matter what happens to it, it never stops. It goes on and on and on unto the very end, until it finally loses itself in the triumph of its own achievement,--the sea.” “And you think that I can go on?” he asked, doubtingly. “I know you can go on,” she answered with conviction. “But, why are you so sure?” “Perhaps,” she returned, smiling, “seventy years makes one sure of some things.” Ho exclaimed passionately: “But you do not know--you cannot know--how my life, my dreams, my plans, my hopes, my--everything--has been broken into bits!” She answered calmly, pointing to Elbow Rock: “Look there, Brian. See how the river is broken into bits. See how its smoothly flowing, onward sweep is suddenly changed to wild, chaotic turmoil; how it rages and fumes and frets and smashes itself against the rocks. But it goes on just the same. Life cannot be always calm and smoothly flowing like the peaceful Bend. But life can always go on. Life must always go on. And you will find, my dear boy, that a little way below Elbow Rock there is another quiet stretch.” When he spoke again there was a note of almost reverence in his voice. “Auntie Sue, was there ever a break in your life? Were your dreams and plans ever smashed into bits?” For a little, she did not answer; then she said, bravely: “Yes, Brian; several times. Once,--years and years ago,--I do not know how I managed to go on. I felt, then, as you feel now; but, somehow, I managed, and so found the calm places. The last hard spot came quite recently.” She paused, wondering what he would do if she were to tell him how he himself had made the hard spot. “But, now,” she continued, “I am hoping that the rest of the way will be calm and untroubled.” “I wish I could help to make it so!” he cried impulsively. “Why, you can,” she returned quickly. “Of course you can. Perhaps that is why the current landed your boat at my garden, instead of carrying you on down the rapids to Elbow Rock. Who can say?” A new light kindled in the man's eyes as his sensitive nature took fire at Auntie Sue's words. “I could do anything for a woman like you, Auntie Sue,” he said quietly, but with a conviction that left no room for doubt. “But you must tell me what I am to do.” She answered: “You are simply to go on with your life--just as if no Elbow Rock had ever disturbed you; just as the river goes on--to the end.” She left him, then, to think out his problem alone; for the teacher of so many years' experience was too wise not to know when a lesson was finished.