its liveliest tunes the bright-eyed
dancers swept round in admirable time; the variegated lamps which hung
around the square checkered the pavement with every variety of hue,
cast such a glory on the fountain that its outline was worked as it
were with threads of gold. All these different colors and shapes were
reflected in the rippling waves of the ever-rolling waters. Youths in
the gayest dresses strutted away their proud hour of triumph with that
graceful vanity of pretension which youth so well becomes, or flirted
with the tender maidens, who in silver-laced bodice and scarlet skirt,
with their brows encircled with interwoven wild flowers, sat round the
brink of the fountain, where the murmurs of the ever-falling waters
could best conceal the murmurs of love. And above all this gorgeous
tumult and bright excitement the moon from her throne of silver clouds
rose like a virgin queen; the bold architecture of the Dom stood in
clear relief, some parts as though sculptured out of heaven's light,
while the depths of the arches were buried in mysterious shade,
emblematic of the faith to which it was dedicated,--in part clear to
the fresh comprehension of the youngest child, and again full of deep
and fathomless mysteries. Athwart the flood of light which filled the
square, the deep shade of this noble Dom was thrown, like the dark
visions of the future which sometimes fall upon the heart in its hours
of brightest enjoyment. If one had stood that night on the lofty tower
and looked forth on the vast multitude, he need not, Asmodeus-like,
have unroofed the houses to read the history of human life or the
passions of the human heart, for life and passion had gone forth
that night from many a tranquil abode to revel in publicity. One so
standing above the wild hum of tumultuous enjoyment would in silent
thought have marveled at the strange drama performing as it were at
his feet,--the sad and fearful mixture of the shadows and lights of
life and death, the market-place, and close at hand the burial-ground.
Talk of contemplation in the wild solitudes of the country, how much
more is there room for contemplation in the crowded mart and the
bustling thoroughfare! Where is the river whose current is so rapid as
the current of life, or at time so dangerous and treacherous? Where
is the tide whose ebb and flow is so uncertain as the ebb and flow of
existence? Where are to be found winds and waves more boisterous than
those which agit