So charmed have we been with the sound of our own voice--of all sounds on earth the sweetest surely to our ears--and, therefore, we so dearly love the monologue, and from the dialogue turn averse, impatient of him ycleped the interlocutor, who, like a shallow brook, will keep prattling and babbling on between the still deep pools of our discourse, which nature feeds with frequent waterfalls--so charmed have we been with the sound of our own voice, that, scarcely conscious the while of more than a gentle ascent along the sloping sward of a rural Sabbath-day's journey, we perceive now that we must have achieved a Highland league--five miles--of rough uphill work, and are standing tiptoe on the Mountain-top. True that his altitude is not very great--somewhere, we should suppose, between two and three thousand feet--much higher than the Pentlands--somewhat higher than the Ochils--a middle-sized Grampian. Great painters and poets know that power lies not in mere measurable bulk. Atlas, it is true, is a giant, and he has need to be so, supporting the globe. So is Andes; but his strength has never been put to proof, as he carries but clouds. The Cordilleras--but we must not be personal--so suffice it to say, that soul, not size, equally in mountains and in men, is and inspires the true sublime. Mont Blanc might be as big again; but what then, if without his glaciers? These mountains are neither immense nor enormous--nor are there any such in the British Isles. Look for a few of the highest on Riddell's ingenious Scale--in Scotland Ben-nevis, Helvellyn in England, in Ireland the Reeks; and you see that they are mere mole-hills to Chimborazo. Nevertheless, they are the hills of the Eagle. And think ye not that an Eagle glorifies the sky more than a Condor? That Vulture--for Vulture he is--flies league-high--the Golden Eagle is satisfied to poise himself half a mile above the loch, which, judged by the rapidity of its long river's flow, may be based a thousand feet or more above the level of the sea. From that height methinks the Bird-Royal, with the golden eye, can see the rising and the setting sun, and his march on the meridian, without a telescope. If ever he fly by night--and we think we have seen a shadow passing the stars that was on the wing of life--he must be a rare astronomer. "High from the summit of a craggy cliff Hung o'er the deep, such as amazing frown On utmost Kilda's shore, whose lonely race Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds, The Royal Eagle rears his vigorous young, Strong-pounced and burning with paternal fire. Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own He drives them from his fort, the towering seat For ages of his empire; which in peace Unstain'd he holds, while many a league to sea He wings his course, and preys in distant isles."