mouth　of　the　valley　and　the　stream　lay　the　village。　　All　around；　on
  our　level；　stretched　farm　and　moorland。
  When　Andrew　Falconer　stood　so　unexpectedly　on　the　verge　of　the　steep
  descent；　he　trembled　and　started　back　with　fright。　　His　son　made　him
  sit　down　a　little　way　off；　where　yet　we　could　see　into　the　valley。
  The　sun　was　hot；　the　air　clear　and　mild；　and　the　sea　broke　its　blue
  floor　into　innumerable　sparkles　of　radiance。　　We　sat　for　a　while　in
  silence。
  'Are　you　sure；'　I　said；　in　the　hope　of　setting　my　friend　talking；
  'that　there　is　no　horrid　pool　down　there？　no　half…trampled　thicket；
  with　broken　pottery　and　shreds　of　tin　lying　about？　no　dead　carcass；
  or　dirty　cottage；　with　miserable　wife　and　greedy　children？　　When　I
  was　a　child；　I　knew　a　lovely　place　that　I　could　not　half　enjoy；
  because；　although　hidden　from　my　view；　an　ugly　stagnation；　half　mud；
  half　water；　lay　in　a　certain　spot　below　me。　　When　I　had　to　pass　it；
  I　used　to　creep　by　with　a　kind　of　dull　terror；　mingled　with　hopeless
  disgust；　and　I　have　never　got　over　the　feeling。'
  'You　remind　me　much　of　a　friend　of　mine　of　whom　I　have　spoken　to　you
  before；'　said　Falconer；　'Eric　Ericson。　　I　have　shown　you　many　of　his
  verses；　but　I　don't　think　I　ever　showed　you　one　little　poem
  containing　an　expression　of　the　same　feeling。　　I　think　I　can　repeat
  it。
  'Some　men　there　are　who　cannot　spare
  A　single　tear　until　they　feel
  The　last　cold　pressure；　and　the　heel
  Is　stamped　upon　the　outmost　layer。
  And；　waking；　some　will　sigh　to　think
  The　clouds　have　borrowed　winter's　wing
  Sad　winter　when　the　grasses　spring
  No　more　about　the　fountain's　brink。
  And　some　would　call　me　coward…fool：
  I　lay　a　claim　to　better　blood；
  But　yet　a　heap　of　idle　mud
  Hath　power　to　make　me　sorrowful。
  I　sat　thinking　over　the　verses；　for　I　found　the　feeling　a　little
  difficult　to　follow；　although　the　last　stanza　was　plain　enough。
  Falconer　resumed。
  'I　think　this　is　as　likely　as　any　place；'　he　said；　'to　be　free　of
  such　physical　blots。　　For　the　moral　I　cannot　say。　　But　I　have
  learned；　I　hope；　not　to　be　too　fastidiousI　mean　so　as　to　be　unjust
  to　the　whole　because　of　the　part。　　The　impression　made　by　a　whole　is
  just　as　true　as　the　result　of　an　analysis；　and　is　greater　and　more
  valuable　in　every　respect。　　If　we　rejoice　in　the　beauty　of　the
  whole；　the　other　is　sufficiently　forgotten。　　For　moral　ugliness；　it
  ceases　to　distress　in　proportion　as　we　labour　to　remove　it；　and
  regard　it　in　its　true　relations　to　all　that　surrounds　it。　　There　is
  an　old　legend　which　I　dare　say　you　know。　　The　Saviour　and　his
  disciples　were　walking　along　the　way；　when　they　came　upon　a　dead
  dog。　　The　disciples　did　not　conceal　their　disgust。　　The　Saviour
  said：　〃How　white　its　teeth　are！〃'
  'That　is　very　beautiful；'　I　rejoined。　'Thank　God　for　that。　　It　is
  true；　whether　invented　or　not。　　But；'　I　added；　'it　does　not　quite
  answer　to　the　question　about　which　we　have　been　talking。　　The　Lord
  got　rid　of　the　pain　of　the　ugliness　by　finding　the　beautiful　in　it。'
  'It　does　correspond；　however；　I　think；　in　principle；'　returned
  Falconer；　'only　it　goes　much　farther；　making　the　exceptional　beauty
  hallow　the　general　uglinesswhich　is　the　true　way；　for　beauty　is
  life；　and　therefore　infinitely　deeper　and　more　powerful　than
  ugliness　which　is　death。　〃A　dram　of　sweet；〃　says　Spenser；　'is　worth
  a　pound　of　sour。〃'
  It　was　so　delightful　to　hear　him　talkfor　what　he　said　was　not　only
  far　finer　than　my　record　of　it；　but　the　whole　man　spoke　as　well　as
  his　mouththat　I　sought　to　start　him　again。
  'I　wish；'　I　said；　'that　I　could　see　things　as　you　doin　great
  masses　of　harmonious　unity。　　I　am　only　able　to　see　a　truth　sparkling
  here　and　there；　and　to　try　to　lay　hold　of　it。　　When　I　aim　at　more；　I
  am　like　Noah's　dove；　without　a　place　to　rest　the　sole　of　my　foot。'
  'That　is　the　only　way　to　begin。　　Leave　the　large　vision　to　itself；
  and　look　well　after　your　sparkles。　　You　will　find　them　grow　and
  gather　and　unite；　until　you　are　afloat　on　a　sea　of　radiancewith
  cloud　shadows　no　doubt。'
  'And　yet；'　I　resumed；　'I　never　seem　to　have　room。'
  'That　is　just　why。'
  'But　I　feel　that　I　cannot　find　it。　　I　know　that　if　I　fly　to　that
  bounding　cape　on　the　far　horizon　there；　I　shall　only　find　a　placea
  place　to　want　another　in。　　There　is　no　fortunate　island　out　on　that
  sea。'
  'I　fancy；'　said　Falconer；　'that　until　a　man　loves　space；　he　will
  never　be　at　peace　in　a　place。　　At　least　so　I　have　found　it。　　I　am
  content　if　you　but　give　me　room。　　All　space　to　me　throbs　with　being
  and　life；　and　the　loveliest　spot　on　the　earth　seems　but　the
  compression　of　space　till　the　meaning　shines　out　of　it；　as　the　fire
  flies　out　of　the　air　when　you　drive　it　close　together。　　To　seek
  place　after　place　for　freedom；　is　a　constant　effort　to　flee　from
  space；　and　a　vain　one；　for　you　are　ever　haunted　by　the　need　of　it；
  and　therefore　when　you　seek　most　to　escape　it；　fancy　that　you　love
  it　and　want　it。'
  'You　are　getting　too　mystical　for　me　now；'　I　said。　'I　am　not　able　to
  follow　you。'
  'I　fear　I　was　on　the　point　of　losing　myself。　　At　all　events　I　can　go
  no　further　now。　　And　indeed　I　fear　I　have　been　but　skirting　the
  Limbo　of　Vanities。'
  He　rose；　for　we　could　both　see　that　this　talk　was　not　in　the　least
  interesting　to　our　companion。　　We　got　again　into　the　carriage；
  which；　by　Falconer's　orders；　was　turned　and　driven　in　the　opposite
  direction；　still　at　no　great　distance　from　the　lofty　edge　of　the
  heights　that　rose　above　the　shore。
  We　came　at　length　to　a　lane　bounded　with　stone　walls；　every　stone　of
  which　had　its　moss　and　every　chink　its　fern。　　The　lane　grew　more　and
  more　grassy；　the　walls　vanished；　and　the　track　faded　away　into　a
  narrow　winding　valley；　formed　by　the　many　meeting　curves　of　opposing
  hills。　　They　were　green　to　the　top　with　sheep…grass；　and　spotted
  here　and　there　with　patches　of　fern；　great　stones；　and　tall　withered
  foxgloves。　　The　air　was　sweet　and　healthful；　and　Andrew　evidently
  enjoyed　it　because　it　reminded　him　again　of　his　boyhood。　　The　only
  sound　we　heard　was　the　tinkle　of　a　few　tender　sheep…bells；　and　now
  and　then　the　tremulous　bleating　of　a　sheep。　　With　a　gentle　winding；
  the　valley　led　us　into　a　more　open　portion　of　itself；　where　the　old
  man　paused　with　a　look　of　astonished　pleasure。
  Before　us；　seaward；　rose　a　rampart　against　the　sky；　like　the
  turreted　and　embattled　wall　of　a　huge　eastern　city；　built　of　loose
  stones　piled　high；　and　divided　by　great　peaky　rocks。　　In　the　centre
  rose　above　them　all　one　solitary　curiously…shaped　mass；　one　of　the
  oddest　peaks　of　the　Himmalays　in　miniature。　　From　its　top　on　the
  further　side　was　a　sheer　descent　to　the　waters　far　below　the　level
  of　the　valley　from　which　it　immediately　rose。　　It　was　altogether　a
  strange　freaky　fantastic　place；　not　without　its　grandeur。　　It　looked
  like　the　remains　of　a　frolic　of　the　Titans；　or　rather　as　if　reared
  by　the　boys　and　girls；　while　their　fathers　and　mothers　'lay
  stretched　out　huge　in　length；'　and　in　breadth　too；　upon　the　slopes
  around；　and　laughed　thunderously　at　the　sportive　invention　of　their
  sons　and　daughters。　　Falconer　helped　his　father　up　to　the　edge　of
  the　rampart　that　he　might　look　over。　　Again　he　started　back；　'afraid
  of　that　which　was　high；'　for　the　lowly　valley　was　yet　at　a　great
  height　above　the　diminished　waves。　　On　the　outside　of　the　rampart
  ran　a　narrow　path　whence　the　green　hill…side　went　down　steep　to　the
  sea。　　The　gulls　were　screaming　far　below　us；　we　could　see　the　little
  flying　streaks　of　white。　　Beyond　was　the　great　ocean。　　A　murmurous
  sound　came　up　from　its　shore。
  We　descended　and　seated　ourselves　on　the　short　springy　grass　of　a
  little　mound　at　the　foot　of　one　of　the　hills；　where　it　sank　slowly；
  like　the　dying　gush　of　a　wave；　into　the　hollowest　centre　of　the
  little　vale。
  'Everything　tends　to　the　cone…shape　here；'　said　Falconer；'the
  oddest　and　at　the　same　time　most　wonderful　of　mathematical　figures。'
  'Is　it　not　strange；'　I　said；　'that　oddity　and　wonder　should　come　so
  near？'
  'They　often　do　in　the　human　world　as　well；'　returned　he。　'Therefore
  it　is　not　strange　that　Shelley　should　have　been　so　fond　of　this
  place。　　It　is　told　of　him　that　repeated　sketches　of　the　spot　were
  found　on　the　covers　of　his　letters。　　I　know　nothing　more　like
  Shelley's　poetry　than　this　valleywildly　fantastic　and　yet
  beautifulas　if　a　huge　genius　were　playing　at　grandeur；　and
  producing　little　models　of　great　things。　　But　there　is　one　grand
  thing　I　want　to　show　you　a　little　further　on。'
  We　rose；　and　walked　out　of　the　valley　on　the　other　side；　along　the
  lofty　coast。　　When　we　reached　a　certain　point；　Falconer　stood　and
  requested　us　to　look　as　far　as　we　could；　along　the　cliffs　to　the
  face　of　the　last　of　them。
  'What　do　you　see？'　he　asked。
  'A　perpendicular　rock；　going　right　down　into　the　blue　waters；'　I
  answered。
  'Look　at　it：　what　is　the　outline　of　i