CHAPTER THE LAST. 415 



ture to be seen. At such times I have watched and 

 listened, — listened long and earnestly, not willing, not 

 venturing rather, to break by my steps the profound re- 

 pose. Once, I remember, on an autumn day, when in 

 a wood in Suabia, I suddenly looked round, and behold ! 

 right before me, on a clear space amid the bushes, stood 

 a deer at gaze. To me then it seemed no ordinary crea- 

 ture, but of gigantic size, the like of which I had never 

 seen before. There it rose above a little knoll, encircled 

 in golden light, and its vast form surrounded with a 

 glory. We gazed for some time at each other in great 

 astonishment ; and had I beheld a bright cross gleaming 

 over its head, such as St. Hubert saw, I could not have 

 been more amazed. Suddenly it bounded away, and the 

 spell was broken. 



Wordsworth, in his ' Prelude/ describes with won- 

 drous truth such visionary appearances, and the mental 

 organization that called them forth. He tells how in 

 the dusk some peak, as " with voluntary power instinct," 

 upreared its head, and growing still in size, and seem- 

 ingly " with purpose of its own, strode after him." And 

 very fine, because so very true, is the picture of him who, 

 " in majestic indolence," wanders on the hills, and sees 

 objects, in portentous size, looming through the mist. 

 Indeed no other poet has passages so full of the spirit 

 of mountain scenery as Wordsworth. It is true they 

 are the phenomena of such heights only as Westmore- 

 land and Cumberland present ; but though these are not 

 high mountains, they have a solemn character of their 

 own, and the mists assemble there, and silence is round 

 them, except when the sough of the wind is heard. The 

 generality of persons tarry amid the grandeur but a 

 short time, and then describe their impressions of its sub- 

 limity and their own great wonderment. But it is not 



