THE FOUNTAIN. 255 



turned away, had simply unclosed the valve which freed the 

 imprisoned waters. A trifling act of human kindness could 

 explain away all the seeming magic of the scene, and perhaps 

 the very man to whom we were indebted for so much pleasure, 

 would have failed to comprehend the full value of his own act. 

 He certainly could not have imagined the grand effect of thus 

 beholding from a little distance, the gradual rising of the foun- 

 tain. The sounds of toil had ceased, — not a creature was 

 seen abroad, — the stillness which broods so peacefully over 

 wood-land haunts was unbroken by human voice. We saw no 

 mere human skill at work, — no iron pipes, — no line of aque- 

 duct, — nothing that reminded us of the labors of man. With a 

 deep, rushing, concentrated sound the waters lifted themselves, 

 not at once, but by repeated propulsions, as if their motions 

 were governed by the strong pulsations of some mighty heart 

 beneath the earth. 



We thought of Undine, the gentle and the graceful, — of 

 Kuhleborn the impetuous and the stern ; — but the beautiful con- 

 ceptions of German fantasy were not grand enough for so 

 sublime a spectacle. We could frame no vision of a water- 

 sprite to dwell in such a pavilion of light. To no dream of 

 human fancy could we liken that silent, spontaneous upspring- 

 ing of the pure wave : — to no single image of a peopled brain 

 could we compare that high aspiration of the gently lapsing 

 river. It was like the uplifting of the gifted soul towards 

 God, — rising strong in its own might, fearless .and enduring, as 

 if it would surely reach the Heaven it seeks, until at length, 

 wasted by the feeling which it gives out towards its kindred 



