'
'Yet how symbolic is the difference between them and that equally
Cyclopic masonry of the Exmoor coast. There every fracture is fresh,
sharp-edged, crystalline; the worn-out useless hills are dropping to
pieces with their own weight. Here each cube is delicately rounded
off at the edges, every crack worn out into a sinuous furrow, like
the scars of an everlasting warfare with the winds and waves.'
'Does it not raise strange longings in you,' said Claude, 'to gaze
out yonder over the infinite calm, and then to remember that beyond
it lies America!--the new world; the future world; the great Titan-
baby, who will be teeming with new Athens and Londons, with new
Bacons and Shakspeares, Newtons and Goethes, when this old worn-out
island will be--what? Oh! when I look out here, like a bird from its
cage, a captive from his dungeon, and remember what lies behind me,
to what I must return to-morrow--the over-peopled Babylon of misery
and misrule, puffery and covetousness--and there before me great
countries untilled, uncivilized, unchristianized, crying aloud for
man to come and be man indeed, and replenish the earth and subdue it.
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