THE SINGING VALLEY 195 



folk of dry suns, and are apt to talk of a drought almost 

 before the latest rains have soaked into the ground. Even 

 holiday-makers shout with laughter when the rain drives 

 them to shelter. As for the engrooved countryman he 

 adores rain, and as strongly as the psalmist desires the 

 thirsty land to become springs of water. When the great 

 drops gobble in the puddles he thinks, like Meredith, of 

 the sound of pigs noisily sucking up their liquid mash in 

 a well-filled trough. To some, perhaps, may come a hint 

 of that wonderful metaphor of the same poet, that comes 

 to a triumphant climax in Earth and a Wedded Woman, 

 who lay 



tranced to hear all heaven descend : 

 And gurgling voices came of Earth, and rare, 

 Past flowerful, breathings, deeper than life s end. 



One of the loveliest things in nature is a spring of water, 

 a river s source. One is very familiar to me. It is the 

 chief feeder of the Pang, a tributary of the Thames. The 

 water wells up so powerfully that it has made a round 

 pond ; and it is so constant, even in drought, that it keeps 

 clean of weed or dirt its chief bubbling point. A bright 

 sand is substituted for mud ; and an open well formed in 

 the weedy waters. The rising force is expressed on the 

 surface by a smooth mound of water puckered at the 

 edge. The trout which flourish in the stream delight to 

 pass over the titillating spout on slow fin, or to poise 

 there for some luxurious moments. 



Even the artificial spring is pleasant to watch. How 

 refreshing on the dry plains of Queensland s back blocks 

 where an artesian area has been lately found and probed, 

 to watch the great bubble break at the surface and course 

 along green runnels and fill with fertility an else arid 

 plain. Even though a slight smell of sulphur may suggest 

 that it comes from unearthly depths it remains a source of 



