SPEINGS 47 



devotee in setting up the broken image of his saint. 

 Though I chance not to want to drink there, I like 

 to behold a clear fountain, and I may want to drink 

 next time I pass, or some traveler, or heifer, or 

 milch cow may. Leaves have a strange fatality for 

 the spring. They come from afar to get into it. 

 In a grove or in the woods they drift into it and 

 cover it up like snow. Late in November, in clear- 

 ing one out, I brought forth a frog from his hiber- 

 nacle in the leaves at the bottom. He was very 

 black, and he rushed about in a bewildered manner 

 like one suddenly aroused from his sleep. 



There is no place more suitable for statuary than 

 about a spring or fountain, especially in parks or 

 improved fields. Here one seems to expect to see 

 figures and bending forms. "Where a spring rises 

 or a river flows," says Seneca, "there should we 

 build altars and offer sacrifices." 



I have spoken of the hunter's spring. The trav- 

 eler's spring is a little cup or saucer-shaped foun- 

 tain set in the bank by the roadside. The har- 

 vester's spring is beneath a wide-spreading tree in 

 the fields. The lover's spring is down a lane under 

 a hill. There is a good screen of rocks and bushes. 

 The hermit's spring is on the margin of a lake in 

 the woods. The fisherman's spring is by the river. 

 The miner finds his spring in the bowels of the 

 mountain. The soldier's spring is wherever he can 

 fill his canteen. The spring where schoolboys go 

 to fill the pail is a long way up or down a hill, and 

 has just been roiled by a frog or muskrat, and the 



