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    breaks the verdant , rootless , tuftless ., weedless surface : an upholsterer would not have nailed his green baize or drugget more evenly on your parlour carpet , nor glued his billiard-table cloth more wrinklelessly : so lies this verdant carpet , this fixed curve of the sea , till the uprising , crowning crest of the billow , ruffled with g orse , with its millions of yellow blossoms , —the ocean spray

    changed into bright and burning gold , which mingles its glory with the bending blue of heaven . That is the barrier ridge which completely conceals the universes beyond : and is it not a gorgeous barrier ? It is so resplendenrtn its beauty that your heart throbs in loving worship of it . Here pause at its foot , and drink in the joy which it pours forth abundantly ; and having done so , look upward to the ridge , and without pausing in your step as you

    wind to the summit , do but mark how those hoary-headed giants march up , forward upon , into your vision—and from the ridge bound down that gently inclining slope . In twenty steps the world is quite shut out : you are in a strange and solemn and old universe . You have passed from time to eternity—No—you have leaped out of the present , back a thousand years . Your dull lump of earth—your hundred and forty pounds avoirdupois ,

    more or less , of clay , is at once exhaled , or has dropped off , away from your existence : you are become unweighable essence , ethereality . You are all air—a bird—a spirit—you feel that you could leap like a cricket , with less than a cricket ' s ponderosity ankle-deep you are enclosed in elastic moss , from which you rebound with the lightness of cork , or a ball of caoutchouc . Do not yet look around you , nor above you : close your eyes , and

    you breathe bliss—you float— -sail—fly : you are in heaven . Not yet—the chirping of the jackdaws tells you this still is earthfor it is not yet said whether jackdaws go to heaven . Still this is heaven ; and you love it all the better on finding that it teems with the creatures of earth—living , breathing , voiced creatures—and their speech-chirping here is delicious harmony—glorious concord .

    Bound a few steps more—r-you must bound , leap—you are full charged with electric fluid , and cannot walk . Stop : lift up your head , and gaze and gasp in the overpoweriug inspiration—which penetrates litnbs—heart—and soul ! and holds you mute awhile . A magnificent temple—the ruined Palmyra of the forest , roofed by the wide arch of heaven ! beautifully grand—awful , solemn , and deeply , intensely affecting : while it bows you down in adoration , it fills your spirit with love . There is nothing dark ,

    nothing fearful , nothing sad in your soul while you gaze—you do love it—it wraps you in a sublimity of affection—you feel it is all your friend—your parent , your guardian—it blesses you , while you worship it ; and you bless it for the blessing it bestows . You feel that it was not the pride of man—nor the mockery of a false religion which reared this wondrous temple—that neither fraud nor oppression mingled in the design—nor has fcumaa vanity ever desecrated the holy place with monuments to

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    A Peep into Sherwood Forest , 425

• Citation
  • Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), June 2, 1834, page 425, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2634/page/43/