dissembled on the roofs of buildings overlooking the park.  From these tanks a maze of pipes carried the water to thickets, grottoes, basins, fountains and canals.  Nothing could surpass the ingenuity with which all this was contrived.  The play of water directed to the Basin of the Mirrors reappeared later in the Baths of Apollo and the Fountain of the Dragon.  Flowing in turn among successive pools and ornamental groups—­branching hither and yon in the gardens, the stream attained its full display in the most majestic effect of all, the Basin of Neptune.

“Here again is the hand of Le Notre,” remarks James Farmer, author of “Versailles and the Court Under Louis XIV.”  “The basin of Neptune, called at first the Grand Cascades, was constructed from 1679 to 1684, in accordance with his designs.  This immense basin, surrounded on the side toward the chateau by a handsome wall of stone, and on the other by an amphitheater of turf and trees,—­a vast half-circle, in the center of which stands a marble statue of Renown, is simple in conception and imposing from its size.  The richly carved lead vases which adorn the wall were gilded under the Grand Monarch, and each throws a jet of water to a great height.  Dangeau tells us that His Majesty saw the waters play here for the first time on the 17th of May, 1685, and that he was quite content.  However, Neptune had not then appeared in the basin that now bears his name; for the large groups of Neptune, the Ocean, and the Tritons, which ornament the base of the wall at present, were not put in place until 1739, in the reign of Louis XV.  This majestic basin at the foot of the Allee d’Eau is a striking contrast to Perrault’s ugly Pyramid at the head of it.  Le Notre knew what was fitting for the gardens of a Sun King.”

A vast avenue, interrupted by many fair reaches of water, stretched its level length before the windows of the Grand Gallery.  It was prolonged to the outer bounds of the gardens by the Grand Canal, on whose gleaming surface the sky was mirrored in the dusk of dawn, the golden glow of noon, or the sunset of declining day.  This has ever been the supreme view from the palace of Versailles.  Standing at one of the great windows of the Hall of Mirrors, the Galerie des Glaces, it often pleased the ruler of France to admire the Fountain of Latona, casting its fifty jets of water from the circular pool below the twin terraces.  Beyond, the Green Carpet glowed in its emerald beauty among the clear waters of Versailles.  The furthest fountain that met the eye was the Basin of Apollo, with its plunging bronze horses.  In the outer park, that held the Trianon and the Menagerie, the royal gaze beheld the cross-shaped Canal which so often, in the revels that marked the first part of this reign, bore gay Venetian barges between the scintillating lights and fireworks that illumined the shore.  At the right side, still looking from the rear of the chateau,