But to sit
aloft one's self in the pure air and under the unclouded dome of
heaven, and thus look down on the submergence of the valley, was
strangely different and even delightful to the eyes. Far away were
hilltops like little islands. Nearer, a smoky surf beat about the
foot of precipices and poured into all the coves of these rough
mountains. The colour of that fog ocean was a thing never to be
forgotten. For an instant, among the Hebrides and just about
sundown, I have seen something like it on the sea itself. But the
white was not so opaline; nor was there, what surprisingly
increased the effect, that breathless, crystal stillness over all.
Even in its gentlest moods the salt sea travails, moaning among the
weeds or lisping on the sand; but that vast fog ocean lay in a
trance of silence, nor did the sweet air of the morning tremble
with a sound.
As I continued to sit upon the dump, I began to observe that this
sea was not so level as at first sight it appeared to be. Away in
the extreme south, a little hill of fog arose against the sky above
the general surface, and as it had already caught the sun, it shone
on the horizon like the topsails of some giant ship. There were
huge waves, stationary, as it seemed, like waves in a frozen sea;
and yet, as I looked again, I was not sure but they were moving
after all, with a slow and august advance.
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