MOUNTAINS. 
245 
of admiration, or throws what we have already seen into a new 
light ; the woods, the farms, the hamlets, ay, whole valleys, great 
hills, broad rivers, objects with which we are already familiar per- 
haps, are ceaselessly assuming novel aspects. Even the minute 
beauties which we note one by one along the ascending pathway, 
the mountain flower, the solitary bird, the rare plant, all contrib- 
ute their share of pleasure ; the very obstacles in the track, the 
ravine, the precipice, the ton'ent, produce their own impression, 
and add to the exultation with which Ave reach at length the 
mountain-top, bringing with us a harvest of gloAving sensations 
gathered by the Avay, all forming delightful accessories to the great- 
er and more exalted prospect awaiting us at the goal. Between 
an isolated view, though fine in its Avay, and the gradual ascent 
of a commandint; heisrht, there lies all the difference we find in the 
enjoyment of a single ode and that Avhich we derive from a great 
poem ; it is the Lycidas of Milton beside the Othello or Lear of 
Shakspeare ; a sonnet of Petrarch compared with the Jerusalem 
of Torquato. So at least we thought this afternoon, as we slowly 
ascended our OAvn modest hills, and remembered the noble mount- 
ains of other lands. 
The country is looking very rich ; the flowery character of sum- 
mer has not yet faded. Buckwheat crops, in white and fragrant 
bloom, are lying on half the farms ; the long lea\'es of the maize 
are still brilliantly green, and its yellow flowers unblighted ; late 
oat-fields here and there show their own pallid green beside 
recently-cut stubble, which still preserves the golden color of the 
ripe wheat. In several meadows of the valley mowers Avere busy, 
hay-cocks stood about the fields, and loaded carts were moving 
about, carrying one back to the labors of midsummer, but these 
