Nothing Yet Has Been Given But Empty Words, And These So-Called 'goods' Have Proved As Tasteless, And As Much Dead Sea Apples, As The Apples Of Vice; Perhaps Even More Bitter Than The Regrets Of Vice.

Though I cannot name the ideal good, it seems to me that it will be in some way closely associated with the ideal beauty of nature.

SUMMER IN SOMERSET.

The brown Barle River running over red rocks aslant its course is pushed aside, and races round curving slopes. The first shoot of the rapid is smooth and polished like a gem by the lapidary's art, rounded and smooth as a fragment of torso, and this convex undulation maintains a solid outline. Then the following scoop under is furrowed as if ploughed across, and the ridge of each furrow, where the particles move a little less swiftly than in the hollow of the groove, falls backwards as foam blown from a wave. At the foot of the furrowed decline the current rises over a rock in a broad white sheet - white because as it is dashed to pieces the air mingles with it. After this furious haste the stream does but just overtake those bubbles which have been carried along on another division of the water flowing steadily but straight. Sometimes there are two streams like this between the same banks, sometimes three or even more, each running at a different rate, and each gliding above a floor differently inclined. The surface of each of these streams slopes in a separate direction, and though under the same light they reflect it at varying angles.

Enter page number Go  Previous Next
Page 315 of 394
Words from 84515 to 84784 of 105669