Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXV, No. 1, July 1849 — John Shaqi
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXV, No. 1, July 1849Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXV, No. 1, July 1849
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
It was built on the last and lowest slope of one of those romantic spurs
which trend southerly from the wild and heathery heights of Dartmoor.
And although the broad and beautifully kept lawn was embosomed in a very
woody and sylvan chase, full of deep glens and tangled dingles, which
was in turn framed on three sides by the deep oak-woods, which covered
all the rounded hills in the rear of the estate and to the right and
left hand, yet as the land continued to fall toward the south for many
and many a mile, the sight could range from the oriel windows of the
great hall, and of the fine old library, situated on either hand of the
entrance and armory, over a wide expanse of richly cultivated country,
with more than one navigable river winding among the woods and
corn-fields, and many a village steeple glittering among the hedgerows,
until in the far distance it was bounded by a blue hazy line, which
seemed to melt into the sky, but which was in truth, though not to be
distinguished as such unless by a practiced eye, the British Channel.
The Hall itself and even the southern verge of the chase, which bounded
the estate in that direction, lay, however, at a very considerable
distance from the cultivated country, and was divided from it by a vast
broken chasm, with banks so precipitous and rocky that no road had ever
been carried through it, while its great width had deterred men from the
idea of bridging it. Through this strange and terrific gorge there
rushed an impetuous and powerful torrent, broken by many falls and
rapids, with many a deep and limpid pool between them, favorite haunts
of the large salmon and sea trout which abounded in its waters. This
brook, for it scarcely can be called a river, although after the rains
of autumn or the melting snows of spring it sent down an immense volume
of dark, rust colored water, with a roar that could be heard for miles,
to the distant Tamar, swept down the hills in a series of cascades from
the right hand side of the park, until it reached the brink of the chasm
we have described, lying at right angles to its former course, down
which it plunged in an impetuous shoot of nearly three hundred feet, and
rushed thence easterly away, walled on each side by the precipitous
rock, until some five miles thence it was crossed at a deep and somewhat
dangerous ford, by the only great road which traversed that district,
and by which alone strangers could reach the Hall and its beautiful
demesnes.
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account