Books > Old Books > A BRIEF HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE (1914)


Page 173

PART III - THE PAST
CHAPTER III - CNIDUS

the wet, and the most certainly the sound of human voices. We put up our umbrellas again and hurried on ; for human voices are alarming when they cease to be imaginary. It is not pleasant to meet new people in the dark.
The long ploughed field ended in a stone wall and a sharp slope of cliff. Looking down, I saw the Trireme harbour at last -a perfect curve of grey that bit into the black. It must face west ; for it still shone, though not with colour, being to the eye without substance or perspective-a vast well that went through the middle of the earth into nothing. Some great building had fallen into the shallows ; and pillars, capitals, and cornices were isolated mysteriously, as if in air. Only by the delicate smell and the delicate whisper of ripples on the sand, was it revealed to us that it was a harbour, and filled with the sea.
We had to turn at once and hurry back over the fields to our own harbour ; for the rain was wetting us through, and it was quite dark now, and late, and voices were calling all about the hills. There was light of a kind by the boats, the light of phosphorescence, that was born when the ripples clashed and died when they subsided. And a small Japanese lantern, grotesquely incongruous, assisted us to embark.
Heads were counted, to see that no one was missing. There were ten already in the boats, and seven pressing to get in, stumbling about amid sea urchins and wet rocks ere they did so. And five more were coming up behind, all blurred out of the night. We were twenty-two in all ; but that was hardly satisfactory, for we had started out twenty-one. Someone had joined us.
It is well known (is it not ?) who that extra person always is. This time he came hurrying down to the beach at the last moment, and tried to peer into our faces. I could hardly see his ; but it was young, and it did not look unkind. He made no answer to our tremulous greetings, but raised his hand to his head and then laid it across his breast, meaning I understand, that his brain and his heart were ours. Everyone made clumsy imitations of his gesture to keep him in a good temper. His manners were perfect. I am not sure that he did not offer to lift people into the boats. But there was a general tendency to avoid his attentions, and we put off in an incredibly short space of time. He melted away in the darkness after a couple of strokes, and we before long were

Page 174

PART III - THE PAST
CHAPTER III - CNIDUS

back on the steamer, amid light, and the smell of hot meat, and the pity and self-gratulations of those who had been wise enough to stop on board.
It was indeed an absurd expedition. We returned soaked and shivering, without a photograph, without a sketch, without so much as an imprecatory tablet to link the place with reality and the world of facts. It lies a defenceless prey to the sentimental imagination and, as I am absolutely certain never to go there again, I do not see how it is to be rescued. I never cease to dry up its puddles, and brush away its clouds, and span it over with blue sky in which is hanging a mid-day sun that never moves. Even over that extra person the brain will not keep steady.

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE the wet, and what is most certainly what is sound of human voices. We put up our umbrellas again and hurried on ; for human voices are alarming when they cease to be imaginary. It is not pleasant to meet new people in what is dark. what is long ploughed field ended in a stone wall and a sharp slope of cliff. Looking down, I saw what is Trireme harbour at last -a perfect curve of grey that bit into what is black. It must face west ; for it still shone, though not with colour, being to what is eye without substance or perspective-a vast well that went through what is middle of what is earth into nothing. Some great building had fallen into what is shallows ; and pillars, capitals, and cornices were isolated mysteriously, as if in air. Only by what is delicate smell and what is delicate whisper of ripples on what is sand, was it revealed to us that it was a harbour, and filled with what is sea. We had to turn at once and hurry back over what is fiel where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="page_001.asp" A BRIEF HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE (1914) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 173 where is strong PART III - what is PAST CHAPTER III - CNIDUS where is p align="justify" the wet, and what is most certainly what is sound of human voices. We put up our umbrellas again and hurried on ; for human voices are alarming when they cease to be imaginary. It is not pleasant to meet new people in what is dark. what is long ploughed field ended in a stone wall and a sharp slope of cliff. Looking down, I saw what is Trireme harbour at last -a perfect curve of grey that bit into what is black. It must face west ; for it still shone, though not with colour, being to what is eye without substance or perspective-a vast well that went through what is middle of what is earth into nothing. Some great building had fallen into what is shallows ; and pillars, capitals, and cornices were isolated mysteriously, as if in air. Only by what is delicate smell and the delicate whisper of ripples on what is sand, was it revealed to us that it was a harbour, and filled with what is sea. We had to turn at once and hurry back over what is fields to our own harbour ; for what is rain was wetting us through, and it was quite dark now, and late, and voices were calling all about what is hills. There was light of a kind by what is boats, what is light of phosphorescence, that was born when what is ripples clashed and died when they subsided. And a small Japanese lantern, grotesquely incongruous, assisted us to embark. Heads were counted, to see that no one was missing. There were ten already in what is boats, and seven pressing to get in, stumbling about amid sea urchins and wet rocks ere they did so. And five more were coming up behind, all blurred out of what is night. We were twenty-two in all ; but that was hardly satisfactory, for we had started out twenty-one. Someone had joined us. It is well known (is it not ?) who that extra person always is. This time he came hurrying down to what is beach at what is last moment, and tried to peer into our faces. I could hardly see his ; but it was young, and it did not look unkind. He made no answer to our tremulous greetings, but raised his hand to his head and then laid it across his breast, meaning I understand, that his brain and his heart were ours. Everyone made clumsy imitations of his gesture to keep him in a good temper. His manners were perfect. I am not sure that he did not offer to lift people into what is boats. But there was a general tendency to avoid his attentions, and we put off in an incredibly short space of time. He melted away in what is darkness after a couple of strokes, and we before long were where is p align="left" Page 174 where is strong PART III - what is PAST CHAPTER III - CNIDUS where is p align="justify" back on what is steamer, amid light, and what is smell of hot meat, and what is pity and self-gratulations of those who had been wise enough to stop on board. It was indeed an absurd expedition. We returned soaked and shivering, without a photograph, without a sketch, without so much as an imprecatory tablet to where are they now what is place with reality and what is world of facts. It lies a defenceless prey to what is sentimental imagination and, as I am absolutely certain never to go there again, I do not see how it is to be rescued. I never cease to dry up its puddles, and brush away its clouds, and span it over with blue sky in which is hanging a mid-day sun that never moves. Even over that extra person the brain will not keep steady. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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