A nobler contrast there can hardly
exist than that of the huge city, dark with the
smoke of ages, and groaning with the various
sounds of active industry or idle revel, and the
lofty and craggy hill, silent and solitary as the
grave; one exhibiting the full tide of existence,
pressing and precipitating itself forward with the
force of an inundation; the other resembling some
time-worn anchorite, whose life passes as silent
and unobserved as the slender rill which escapes
unheard, and scarce seen, from the fountain of his
patron saint. The city resembles the busy temple,
where the modern Comus and Mammon hold their
court, and thousands sacrifice ease, independence,
and virtue itself, at their shrine; the misty and
lonely mountain seems as a throne to the majestic
but terrible Genius of feudal times, when the same
divinities dispensed coronets and domains to those
who had heads to devise, and arms to execute,
bold enterprises.
I have, as it were, the two extremities of the
moral world at my threshold. From the front door,
a few minutes' walk brings me into the heart of a
wealthy and populous city; as many paces from
my opposite entrance, places me in a solitude
as complete as Zimmerman could have desired.
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