Chapter 952:

Cataract that sounds like
Bothered him like passion: tall rocks,
Mountain peaks, deep and gloomy wood,
Their color and shape, for him
An appetite. A feeling and a love,
That doesn’t need unreachable charm,
As long as you have ideas, you can provide it, and you don’t need any
Excuse interest aroused.
[The "Monastery" of Wordsworth. ]
Where is he now? Is this kind of gentle and lovely loss forever? This kind of thinking is full of fantasy, fantasy and fantasy, forming a world whose existence depends on the life of its creator; is this kind of thinking dead? Does it only exist in my memory now? No, that's not the case; your sacred deformed, beautiful form has rotted away, but your spirit is still visiting and comforting your unhappy friends.
Please forgive this sadness. These useless words are just a tribute to Henry's unparalleled value, but they soothed me and made his memory sting him deeply. I will continue my story.
After Cologne, we came to the Dutch Plain. We decided to get off the road because the wind was in the opposite direction and the river was too soft to help us.
Our journey here lost interest in the beautiful scenery, but a few days later we arrived in Rotterdam, and from there we took a boat to England. On a sunny morning in late December, I saw the white cliffs of Britain once. There is a new scene on both sides of the Thames. They are flat but fertile, and almost every town has a memory of some kind of story. We saw Fort Tilbury and thought of the Spanish Invincible Fleet, Gravesend, Woolwich and Greenwich. I have heard of these places in my country.
In the end, we saw countless London minarets, the towering head of St. Paul, and the famous tower in British history.
19
London is our current resting place; we are determined to spend a few months in this beautiful and famous city. Clive hopes that talented and talented people will interact at this time, but this is a secondary goal for me. I was mainly busy with obtaining the information necessary to complete the promise, and quickly used the letters of introduction I brought, which were addressed to the most prominent natural philosophers.
If this journey happened during my days of study and happiness, it would bring me unexpressed joy. However, my existence has become a curse, and I just visit these people because they may have provided me with information on topics that are so profound to me. The company is very annoying to me; when I am alone, I can have a panoramic view of heaven and earth; Henry's voice comforted me, so I can deceive myself into a short peace. But the busy, boring, cheerful face rekindled my despair. I saw an insurmountable barrier between me and my compatriots. This obstacle was sealed by the blood of William and Justin, and reflecting on the events related to these names made my soul full of pain.
But now, I see the image of my former self. He is very curious and eager to gain experience and guidance. The differences in the way he observes are an inexhaustible source of teaching and entertainment for him. He was still pursuing an object he had already thought of. His design was to visit India because he believed that he had knowledge of various languages, and his views on Indian society provided the means to substantially help European colonization and trade development. In the UK, he can only carry out his plan further. He is always busy, and the only thing that enjoys fun is my sad and depressed mind. I tried to conceal this as much as possible, lest I cannot deny him the natural pleasure of entering a new life scene without being disturbed by any care or painful memories. I often refused to accompany him and accused me of getting engaged again, which made me possibly alone. I now also start to collect materials for new creations, which to me is like the torture of a drop of water constantly dripping on my head. Every thought dedicated to it is a kind of extreme pain, and every word I mention makes my lips tremble and my heart.
After spending a few months in London, we received a letter from a Scot who was a visitor to our Geneva. He mentioned the beauty of his home country and asked us if these beauty are not enough to induce us to extend our trip north of Perth where he lives. I am eager to accept this invitation. Even though I hate society, I still hope to admire all the wonderful works decorated by the mountains and streams and the residence chosen by nature.
We arrived in the UK in early October, and it is now February. Therefore, we decided to start the journey north when another month expires. In this expedition, we did not intend to walk along the road to Edinburgh, but to visit Windsor, Oxford, Matlock and Lake Cumberland, determined to complete the trip around the end of July. I packed up my chemical equipment and collected materials, determined to complete the work in a corner of the northern highlands of Scotland.
We left London on March 27 and spent a few days in Windsor, strolling in the beautiful forest. For us climbers, this is a new scene. The majestic oak tree, the large number of prey and the herd of stags are all novelties to us.
From then on, we went to Oxford. When we entered this city, our minds were full of memories of events that happened more than a century ago. Charles I collected his troops here. The city remained loyal to him after the whole country gave up his career of joining parliament and free standards. The memories of the unfortunate king and his companions, and the dear Falkland, the arrogant Goering, his queen and sons have made every part of the city where they should have lived a special interest. The spirit of the past has found a place here, and we are happy to follow in its footsteps. If these feelings are not satisfied as imagined, then the appearance of the city itself does not have enough beauty to arouse our admiration. These universities are old and picturesque; the streets are almost magnificent. The lovely Isis flows by the exquisite green grassland, scattered in the calm waters, reflecting the majestic towers, with spires and domes emerging among the ancient trees.
I like this scene, but the memory of the past and the expectation of the future have lost my pleasure. I was founded for peaceful happiness. In my young days, dissatisfaction has never attracted my attention. If I am overcome, then the study of the beautiful things in nature or the study of the outstanding and sublime things in human production will always attract my heart. I convey my spirit of flexibility. But I am a dead tree. The bolt has entered my soul; at that time I felt that I should survive to show what I would no longer be-a cruel sight of human cruelty that I could not bear to pity others.
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