Every Girl's Library, Volume 8 of 10: A Collection of Appropriate and Instructive Reading for Girls of All Ages from the Best Authors of All Time
General
Every Girl's Library, Volume 8 of 10: A Collection of Appropriate and Instructive Reading for Girls of All Ages from the Best Authors of All Time
Literature -- Collections
And yet this would scarcely parallel the intensity of Will's feeling for
the plain. If he could only go far enough out there, he felt as if his
eye sight would be purged and clarified, as if his hearing would grow
more delicate, and his very breath would come and go with luxury. He was
transplanted and withering where he was; he lay in a strange country and
was sick for home. Bit by bit, he pieced together broken notions of the
world below: of the river, ever moving and growing until it sailed forth
into the majestic ocean; of the cities, full of brisk and beautiful
people, playing fountains, bands of music and marble palaces, and
lighted up at night from end to end with artificial stars of gold; of
the great churches, wise universities, brave armies, and untold money
lying stored in vaults; of the high-flying vice that moved in the
sunshine, and the stealth and swiftness of midnight murder. I have said
he was sick as if for home: the figure halts. He was like some one lying
in twilit, formless pre-existence, and stretching out his hands lovingly
towards many-coloured, many-sounding life. It was no wonder he was
unhappy, he would go and tell the fish: they were made for their life,
wished for no more than worms and running water, and a hole below a
falling bank; but he was differently designed, full of desires and
aspirations, itching at the fingers, lusting with the eyes, whom the
whole variegated world could not satisfy with aspects. The true life,
the true bright sunshine, lay far out upon the plain. And O! to see this
sunlight once before he died! to move with a jocund spirit in a golden
land! to hear the trained singers and sweet church bells, and see the
holiday gardens! "And O fish!" he would cry, "if you would only turn
your noses down stream, you could swim so easily into the fabled waters
and see the vast ships passing over your head like clouds, and hear the
great water-hills making music over you all day long!" But the fish kept
looking patiently in their own direction, until Will hardly knew whether
to laugh or cry.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account