MELLOW ENGLAND. 157 



the coast of Wales and her groups of lofty mount- 

 ains in full view nearly all day. The mountains 

 were in profile like the Catskills viewed from the 

 Hudson below, only it was evident there were no 

 trees or shrubbery upon them, and their summits, on 

 this last day of September, were white with the snow. 



The first day or half day ashore is, of course, the 

 most novel and exciting ; but who, as Mr. Higginson 

 says, can describe his sensations and emotions this 

 first half day. It is a page of travel that has not yet 

 been written. Paradoxical as it may seem, one gen- 

 erally comes out of pickle much fresher than he went 

 in. The sea has given him an enormous appetite for 

 the land Every one of his senses is like a hungry 

 wolf clamorous to be fed. For my part I had sud- 

 denly emerged from a condition bordering on that of 

 the hibernating animals a condition in which I had 

 neither ate, nor slept, nor thought, nor moved, when 

 I could help it, into not only a full, but a keen and 

 joyous possession of my health and faculties. It was 

 almost a metamorphosis. I was no longer the clod I 

 had been, but a bird exulting in the earth and air, 

 and in the liberty of motion. Then to remember it 

 was a new earth and a new sky that I was behold- 

 ing, that it was England, the old mother at last, no 

 longer a faith or a fable, but an actual fact there be- 

 fore my eyes and under my feet why should I not 

 exult? Go to! I will be indulged. These treea 



