Dartmoor. 143 



will not acknowledge their influence in 'with- 

 drawing him from the power of the senses,' and 

 in carrying forward his thoughts to the still 

 more mysterious future ? He wanders in a 

 desert encircled with primaeval mountains, and 

 beholds nature piling all round, in fantastic 

 and mimic masonry, huge masses of granite, as 

 if to mock the mightiest efforts of human art. 

 Vast and gloomy castles appear to frown defi- 

 ance from the beetling crags around. But no 

 mortal hand ever laid their adamantine founda- 

 tions or reared their dizzy towers. Nature is 

 the engineer that fortified the heights thou- 

 sands of years ago ; hers are the massive walls, 

 hers the mighty bastions, hers the granite 

 glacis scarped down to the roaring torrent be- 

 low, hers the hand that reared those stupendous 

 citadels, which fable might have garrisoned 

 with demigods and beleaguered with Titans." 



Some people may say this is what is often 

 called " fine writing." Well, I can safely say, 

 that in my opinion, formed from visiting the 

 moor, — not once only, but many many times, 

 in fact, I lived on it one whole winter, — I do 

 not consider the word-picture he has drawn 

 one bit too highly coloured. 



