John Ruskin,
The King of the Golden River; or…
“ Gluck made no answer."Hollo! Gluck, my boy," said the pot again.Gluck summoned all his energies, walked straight up to the crucible, drew it out of the furnace, and looked in. The gold was all melted, and its surface as smooth and polished as a river; but instead of reflecting little Gluck's head, as he looked in he saw meeting his glance from beneath the gold, the red nose and sharp eyes of his old friend of the mug, a thousand times redder and sharper than ever he had seen them in his life."Come, Gluck, my boy," said the voice out of the pot again, "I'm all right; pour me out." ”
