FOUNTAINS AND STREAMS 257 



gladness of blood when the red streams surge 

 and sing in accord with the swelling plants and 

 rivers, inclining animals and everybody to travel 

 in hurrahing crowds like floods, while exhilarat- 

 ing melody in color and fragrance, form and 

 motion, flows to the heart through all the quick- 

 ening senses. 



In early summer the streams are in bright 

 prime, running crystal clear, deep and full, but 

 not overflowing their banks, — about as deep 

 through the night as the day, the variation so 

 marked in spring being now too slight to be 

 noticed. Nearly all the weather is cloudless sun- 

 shine, and everything is at its brightest, — lake, 

 river, garden, and forest, with all their warm, 

 throbbing life. Most of the plants are in full 

 leaf and flower ; the blessed ousels have built 

 their mossy huts, and are now singing their 

 sweetest songs on spray-sprinkled ledges beside 

 the waterfalls. 



In tranquil, mellow autumn, when the year's 

 work is about done, when the fruits are ripe, 

 birds and seeds out of their nests, and all the 

 landscape is glowing like a benevolent counte- 

 nance at rest, then the streams are at their lowest 

 ebb, — their wild rejoicing soothed to thought- 

 ful calm.. All the smaller tributaries whose 

 branches do not reach back to the perennial 

 fountains of the Summit peaks shrink to whis- 

 pering, tinkling currents. The snow of their 



