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Updated: June 23, 2025
"Fountain-heads and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves, Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are safely housed, save bats and owls, A midnight bell, a passing groan, These are the sounds we feed upon." Behold there in the wood the fine madman!
Food, raiment, money fountain-heads of half the world's weariness He simply did not care for; they played no part in His life; He "took no thought" for them. It was impossible to affect Him by lowering His reputation. He had already made Himself of no reputation. He was dumb before insult. When he was reviled, He reviled not again. In fact, there was that could ruffle the surface of His spirit.
But as the loves of self and the world are infernal loves and the fountain-heads of all evils, it is plain what the internal of thought in itself is like with men in whom those loves reign and are their life's loves, namely, that it is full of lusts of evils of every kind.
I do not know a more fascinating race of beings than these little fabled people, that haunted the southern sides of hills and mountains, lurked in flowers and about fountain-heads, glided through key-holes into ancient halls, watched over farm-houses and dairies, danced on the green by summer moonlight, and on the kitchen-hearth in winter.
These fountain-heads, separated by little more than half a mile from each other, were the sources of streams, which, flowing in opposite directions through hundreds of miles of wild, beautiful, and uncultivated wilderness, found their way, on the one hand, into Hudson's Bay, on the other hand, into the Atlantic through the great rivers and lakes of Canada.
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