ble columns,
united by arches and supporting a number of marble vases. Under the
arcades, are a circular range of fountains, "and in the middle is a fine
group of the Rape of Proserpine."

The largest and most splendid fountain in the park, is the Bassin de
Neptune. Upon its southern border stand 22 ornamental vases, each with a
jet in the center. Against the same side, are three colossal groups in
lead. The central one represents Neptune and Amphitrite seated in an
immense shell and surrounded by tritons, nymphs and sea-monsters. On the
left is Oceanus resting upon a sea-unicorn, and on the right, Proteus, the
son of Oceanus. There are several other groups; and from the jets of
these, amounting to some 55 or 60 in all, issues a deluge of water, when
the gates are opened. A quarter of an hour in advance of the appointed
time, about 15,000 persons had assembled upon the circular terrace, facing
this magnificent fountain, and were waiting with breathless anxiety to see
old Neptune take his turn. We had seen the wonders and beauties presented
by the other fountains as they shot their silvery columns, and clouds of
vapor high into the air, or spanned their pyramidal basins with
innumerable liquid arches intersecting each other in every conceivable
direction; but the grandest sight, it was said, was still in store for us.
All the other fountains had commenced their playing with humble
spasms--the columns rising higher by degrees, but old Neptune took every
body by surprise. Hundreds leaped and shouted for joy, when they saw that
the southern heavens, which had been so clear and beautiful but a moment
before, were suddenly whitened with clouds of vapor upon which the rays of
the western sun produced a most charming effect. A gentle breeze gave to
each spouting jet, a misty tail, comet-like in appearance to the admiring
spectators.

An Incident

which added much to my pleasures and enjoyments of that glorious day,
deserves notice here, as it illustrates that if one even starts to make
the tour of the world alone, so that he may not be detained by the
loiterings of a companion whose tastes and fancies differ from his, need
not therefore be without pleasant associates when he is in want of them.
Early in the afternoon, as I was about taking my seat under the shade of a
yew-tree on a terrace where I might have a fair view of Bassin de Latone,
(the play of whose liquid arches render it the most _beautiful_ of all in
the g