Читать книгу The Pedestrian's Guide through North Wales. A tour performed in 1837 онлайн

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Upon the summit of the hill, Triptolemus walked with all the dignity of an English baron. The ancient fortress, that frowned above him, gave additional fire to his excited imagination; and, as he spoke of knights and fellows in arms, and mused of war, banners, and crop ear’d steeds, the present peaceful times were dead to him, and nothing lived within his gallant thoughts but those whose bones have long since whitened in the dust.

Triptolemus had walked round, and round again, about the distance of half a mile, spouting Shakespeare to “the unconscious wind,” when, as he was about to take “round the third,” instead of looking at the earth, his inspired glance was directed to the sky; and at the instant he exclaimed, “thus far into the bowels of the land,” he vanished into the earth through the before mentioned trap door! and awakening from his surprize, he found himself half smothered in a bed of manure, at the bottom of the steps.—When he had in some degree recovered from his alarm, and ascertained that his person had escaped injury, his first reflection was upon the fall of Lucifer,

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