And with this simplicity there is consummate art. Ruskin
uses nearly all the devices described in the preceding pages. Let us
look at some of these in the first three paragraphs of Ruskin's story:
In a secluded and mountainous part of Styria, there was, in old time,
a valley of most surprising and luxuriant fertility. It was surrounded
on all sides by steep and rocky mountains rising into peaks which were
always covered with snow and from which a number of torrents descended
in constant cataracts. One of these fell westward, over the face of a
crag so high that, when the sun had set to everything else, and all
below was darkness, his beams still shone full upon this waterfall,
so that it looked like a shower of gold. It was, therefore, called by
the people of the neighborhood the Golden River{.} It was strange that
none of these streams fell into the valley itself. They all descended
on the other side of the mountains, and wound through broad plains and
by populous cities. But the clouds were drawn so constantly to the
snowy hills, and rested so softly in the circular hollow, that, in time
of drought and heat, when all the country round was burnt up,
there was still rain in the little valley; and its crops were so heavy,
and its hay so high, and its apples so red, and its grapes so blue,
and its wine so rich, and its honey so sweet, that it was a marvel to
every one who beheld it, and was commonly called the Treasure Valley.
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