At fifteen I became a resident in a country village more than a hundred miles from home . The morning after my arrival -- a September morning , but warm and bright as any in July -- I rambled into a wood of oaks with a few walnut trees intermixed , forming the closest shade above my head . The ground was rocky , uneven , overgrown with bushes and clumps of young saplings and traversed only by cattle-paths . The track which I chanced to follow led me to a crystal spring with a border of grass as freshly green as on May morning , and overshadowed by the limb of a great oak . One solitary sunbeam found its way down and played like a goldfish in the water . From my childhood I have loved to gaze into a spring . The water filled a circular basin , small but deep and set round with stones , some of which were covered with slimy moss , the others naked and of variegated hue -- reddish , white and brown . The bottom was covered with coarse sand , which sparkled in the lonely sunbeam and seemed to illuminate the spring with an unborrowed light . In one spot the gush of the water violently agitated the sand , but without obscuring the fountain or breaking the glassiness of its surface . It appeared as if some living creature were about to emerge -- the naiad of the spring , perhaps , in the shape of a beautiful young woman with a gown of filmy water-moss , a belt of rainbow-drops and a cold , pure , passionless countenance . How would the beholder shiver , pleasantly yet fearfully , to see her sitting on one of the stones , paddling her white feet in the ripples and throwing up water to sparkle in the sun ! Wherever she laid her hands on grass and flowers , they would immediately be moist , as with morning dew . Then would she set about her labors , like a careful housewife , to clear the fountain of withered leaves , and bits of slimy wood , and old acorns from the oaks above , and grains of corn left by cattle in drinking , till the bright sand in the bright water were like a treasury of diamonds . But , should the intruder approach too near , he would find only the drops of a summer shower glistening about the spot where he had seen her . Reclining on the border of grass where the dewy goddess should have been , I bent forward , and a pair of eyes met mine within the watery mirror . They were the reflection of my own . I looked again , and , lo ! another face , deeper in the fountain than my own image , more distinct in all the features , yet faint as thought . The vision had the aspect of a fair young girl with locks of paly gold . A mirthful expression laughed in the eyes and dimpled over the whole shadowy countenance , till it seemed just what a fountain would be if , while dancing merrily into the sunshine , it should assume the shape of woman .
Through the dim rosiness XXXXX the cheeks I could see the brown leaves , the slimy twigs , the acorns and the sparkling sand .
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