As the stranger too was so nimble and not at
all tired with his walk, the sage gardiner proceeded down a sloping
valley, between two mountains cloathed to their summits with cedars,
firs, and pines, which he took care to tell the prince were all of his
honour the general's own planting: but though the prince had learnt more
English in three days in Ireland, than all the French in the world ever
learnt in three years, he took no notice of the information, to the
great offence of the gardiner, but kept running on, and increased his
gambols and exclamations when he perceived the vale was terminated by a
stupendous bridge, that seemed composed of the rocks which the giants
threw at Jupiter's head, and had not a drop of water beneath[7]
it--Where is my bride, my bride? cried Mi Li--I must be near her. The
prince's shouts and cries drew a matron from a cottage that stood on a
precipice near the bridge, and hung over the river--My lady is down at
Ford-house, cried the good[8] woman, who was a little deaf, concluding
they had called to her to know. The gardiner knew it was in vain to
explain his distress to her, and thought that if the poor gentleman was
really mad, his master the general would be the properest person to know
how to manage him. Accordingly turning to the left, he led the prince
along the banks of the river, which glittered through the opening
fallows, while on the other hand a wilderness of shrubs climbed up the
pendent cliffs of chalk, and contrasted with the verdant meads and
fields of corn beyond the stream.
Pages:
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49