The River Vltava rises away down in the south among the mountains of the Bohemian Forest. It has its happy infancy in "green days in forest," leaping over rocks, playing with pebbles, and generally disporting itself until it comes out into the world and moves among men. Not empty handed either, for it carries the sound of the forest and the rhythm of running water to those that have their being on its banks; if you doubt it, come and hear Smetana's work at the National Theatre reflected in the waters of Prague. The Vltava arrives at Prague reinforced by its tributary, the Berounka, and flows almost due north until it meets the Castle Hill. Then it makes a bold sweep due east, turns north and west again, and so makes a peninsula of Castle Hill; then it resumes, with many windings, its northward course. Nothing could have been better arranged than this bold sweep encircling the Hradšany and the wooded slopes of Letna; it is this feature that adds so much interest to the attractive composition of Prague. This must also have impressed that far-seeing lady, Libuša--it inspired her as it has inspired many people since. * * * * * The psychology of rivers has not been sufficiently studied. Most people just call a river blue, or golden or muddy, and pass on to other subjects. In reality every river of importance has a definite character all its own; so, for that matter, has every stream of running water, however insignificant it may seem. Our ancestors recognized the fact, but preferred to endow brooks and streams with a definite personality in the form of nymphs, pixies, or whatever they were called. The Cross has driven these harmless and pathetic little beings out of the world they lived in; only a few were allowed to linger, such as Isa, who till quite recently came ashore from the Danube between Passau and Vienna because she felt so lonely, poor dear! Then there is Undine, but she only appears on the operatic stage, and that but rarely. Under our present strenuous existence, where all is bent towards material success, there is no place for the sprites whose voices the ancients heard in the twilight silence. How could any properly constituted nymph play hide-and-seek with the moonbeams, or cast an eye upon a handsome boatman, from under the well-regulated bank of a river of to-day? As far as present-day mortals are concerned, any stream means water-power, any river means a waterway for commerce, and those thus engaged after the day's work turn away from river and stream without waiting to hear what they have to say when the din of industry dies down and the voice of the running water can be heard again.