On
each side she saw green, undulating lawn, with trees and meadows beyond;
but just in front the ground sloped rapidly, still in grass, grew steep,
and fell into the swift river--which, swollen almost to unwieldiness,
went rolling and sliding brown and heavy towards the far off sea; when
its swelling and tumult were over it would sing; now it tumbled along
with a roaring muffled in sullenness. Beyond the river the bank rose
into a wooded hill. She could see walks winding through the wood, here
appearing, there vanishing, and, a little way up the valley, the rails
of a rustic bridge that led to them. It was a paradise! For the roar of
London along Oxford street, there was the sound of the river; for the
cries of rough human voices, the soprano of birds, and the soft mellow
bass of the cattle in the meadows. The only harsh sound in this new
world was the cry of the peacock, but that had somehow got the color of
his tail in it, and was not unpleasant. The sky was a shining blue. Not
a cloud was to be seen upon it. Quietly it looked down, as if saying to
the world over which it stood vaulted, "Yes, you are welcome to it all!"
She thanked God for the country, but soon was praying to him for the
town.
Pages:
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254