DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61635#0206
[ 202 ]
should have found no honest welcomes, no sweet
morsels, no delicious draughts.—At this height
children and stone-breakers were the only beings
to be seen on Mt. Tarare.
Not far from a lonely, wind-bent black cross,
that stood on a high point in the moorland, we
reached the summit, and looked down and not up
to the winding road.—When you have gained the
top of Mt. Tarare you do not come presently into
Lyons; with all due reverence for our Master’s
words, you have still a long ride before you.—
However, the wind now fairly swept the tricycle in
front of it, as if in haste to bring us into Tarare.—
The road kept turning and turning in a narrow
pass. A river made its way, no longer to the
Loire, but to the Rhone. But we rode so fast, we
only knew we were flying through this beautiful
green world. The clear air and cold wind gave
us new life. We must keep going on and on.
Rest seemed an evil to be shunned. For that
afternoon at least we agreed with Mr. Tristram
Shandy, that so much of motion was so much of
life and so much of joy;—and that to stand still or
go on but slowly is death and the devil. We said
little, and I, for my part, thought less.
But at last J-could no longer contain him-
self.-—
Hang
should have found no honest welcomes, no sweet
morsels, no delicious draughts.—At this height
children and stone-breakers were the only beings
to be seen on Mt. Tarare.
Not far from a lonely, wind-bent black cross,
that stood on a high point in the moorland, we
reached the summit, and looked down and not up
to the winding road.—When you have gained the
top of Mt. Tarare you do not come presently into
Lyons; with all due reverence for our Master’s
words, you have still a long ride before you.—
However, the wind now fairly swept the tricycle in
front of it, as if in haste to bring us into Tarare.—
The road kept turning and turning in a narrow
pass. A river made its way, no longer to the
Loire, but to the Rhone. But we rode so fast, we
only knew we were flying through this beautiful
green world. The clear air and cold wind gave
us new life. We must keep going on and on.
Rest seemed an evil to be shunned. For that
afternoon at least we agreed with Mr. Tristram
Shandy, that so much of motion was so much of
life and so much of joy;—and that to stand still or
go on but slowly is death and the devil. We said
little, and I, for my part, thought less.
But at last J-could no longer contain him-
self.-—
Hang