above, where its pool attracted and fixed the village. It comes with snow memories in the foam of its rock-shattered flow. It curves with deep, clear fulness into an upper rocky basin. It gushes so firm and urgent against its walls that its reflected edges are seen to be heaped higher than the unchecked slide of its mid-current. One inch more in its angle of descent would send that whole smooth clearness flying into foam. But its strong speed does not spoil its mirror-like quietness. It moves steadily on to its beautiful duty, and then suddenly — “the wild cataract leaps in glory.”
The river is transfigured before us. Motion flings itself out into light. Green water snows down in a glimmering belt of white. Every drop dashes away from every other drop. Each one has its own sunbeam. Diamond flashes join into jewelled wreaths. Pearl and opal blend their soft tremors. Sapphire and beryl mingle with the strong glow of amber. And the wreaths intertwine and float together, until the mid-whirl is a gemmy turbulence, a crush of foam and spray, and rays and rainbows.
There is no sharp line to mark where calm sliding water is instantly transmuted into wild falling water. The fall becomes a fall without any harsh edge of precipice. We cannot define where the shadowy gleam above bends fleeter over the first ledges; nor where the bend first breaks with spray, and spray thickens, and the curve passes
