CHAPTER III.
Let a man have all the world can give him, he is still miserable, if he has a grovelling, unlettered, undevout mind. Let him have his gardens, his fields, his woods, his lawns, for grandeur, plenty, ornament, and gratification; while at the same time God is not in all his thoughts. And let another man have neither field nor garden; let him only look at nature with an enlightened mind—a mind which can see and adore the Creator in his works, can consider them as demonstrations of his power, his wisdom, his goodness, and his truth: this man is greater, as well as happier, in his poverty than the other in his riches.
I wonder whether others are conscious of a feeling which I continually find; a disposition to think that that which is remote must be better than that which is near. It prevails in spite of myself; in spite of knowledge and reasoning: thus I am constantly gazing out with longing eyes on the blue cliffs of the receding coast, and saying, half unconsciously, to myself,—"I wish I were at the foot of those cliffs; what treasures I might find there!" though reflection tells me that the spot where I am is of the very same character, and would assume the same tantalizing position were I yonder.
The majestic mass of Portland, rising out of the sea right in front of me, awakened a desire to go over and explore its shores; and as soon as spring-tide arrived I made an opportunity to gratify my desire, though the
