He could not proceed immediately at the base of the cliffs, for in their
shelter the snow had drifted deep. He was soon obliged to keep to the
beaten track, which here ran about a quarter of a mile distant from the
rock. Walking his horse, and looking up as he went, his attention was
arrested by perceiving that a whitish stain on a smooth dark facet of
the rock assumed the appearance of a white angel in the act of alighting
from aerial flight. The picture grew so distinct that he could not take
his eyes from it, even after he had gone past, until he was quite weary
of looking back or of trying to keep his restive horse from dancing
forward. When, at last, however, he turned his eyes from the majestic
figure with the white wings, his fancy caught at certain lines and
patches of rust which portrayed a horse of gigantic size galloping upon
a forward part of the cliff. The second picture brought him to a
standstill, and he examined the whole face of the hill, realizing that
he was in the presence of a picture-gallery which Nature, it seemed, had
painted all for her own delight. He thought himself the discoverer; he
felt at once both a loneliness and elation at finding himself in that
frozen solitude, gazing with fascinated eyes at one portion of the rock
after another where he saw, or fancied he saw, sketches of this and that
which ravished his sense of beauty both in colour and form.
Pages:
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194