There was
nothing smooth, swelling, or graceful, in the aspect of the range. They
seemed, hills though they were, to be inspired with the souls of
mountains, which were ever seeking to burst the narrow bounds that
confined them. And, for his part, the professor liked them much better
than if they had been mountains indeed. They gave an impression of
greater energy and vitality, and were all the more comprehensible and
lovable, because not too sublime and vast.
In another way, his garden afforded as much pleasure to the professor as
his hills. From having planned and, in a great measure, made it himself,
he took in it a peculiar pride and interest. He knew just the position
of every plant and shrub, tree and flower, and in what sort of condition
they were as regarded luxuriance and vigor. Sitting quietly in his
chair, his fancy could wander in and out along the winding paths,
mindful of each new opening vista or backward scene--of where the shadow
fell, and where the sunshine slept hottest; could inhale the fragrance
of the tea-rose bush, and pause beneath the branches of the elm-tree;
the material man remaining all the while motionless, with closed
eyelids, or, now and then, half opening them to verify, by a glance,
some questionable recollection.
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