One of these was drafted
off to guide me to the source, and off we set on our walk, at once
leaving the warm open valley for the mountain world. On and on we went,
the mountain closing upon us and shutting out more and more of the
glowing blue heavens, till we came to a stand. From these rocky
fastnesses, here forbidding further progress, the River Lison has its
source; above they show a silvery grey surface against the emerald of
the valleys and the sapphire of the sky, but below the huge clefts, from
which we are soon to see the river issue forth exultingly, they are
black as night.
A few steps onward and we were in sight of the source, and no words can
convey its imposingness, or the sense of contrast forced upon the
mind--the pitchy, ebon cavern from which flashes the river in silvery
whiteness, tumbling in a dozen cascades down glistening black rocks, and
across pebbly beds, and along gold-green pastures. We explored the inner
part of this strange rock-bed; the little River Lison, springing from
its dark cavernous home, leaping forth with wild exultation into the
light, pursuing its way under all kinds of difficulties, growing broader
and broader as it goes, till a wide, sunlit river, it flows onward and
onward, finally reaching the sea, reminded me, as I gazed, of a lovely
thought emerging from the thinker's brain, which, after obstacles and
hindrances innumerable, at last, refreshing all as it goes, reaches the
open light of universal truth.
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