- Project Runeberg -  Letters written during a short residence in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark /
43

(1889) [MARC] Author: Mary Wollstonecraft With: Henry Morley
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straggling amongst the recesses of stone, was hastening
forward to the ocean and its grey rocks, of which
we had a prospect on the left; whilst on the right it
stole peacefully forward into the meadows, losing itself
in a thickly-wooded rising ground. As we drew near,
the loveliest banks of wild flowers variegated the
prospect, and promised to exhale odours to add to the
sweetness of the air, the purity of which you could
almost see, alas! not smell, for the putrefying herrings,
which they use as manure, after the oil has been
extracted, spread over the patches of earth, claimed by
cultivation, destroyed every other.

It was intolerable, and entered with us into the inn,
which was in other respects a charming retreat.

Whilst supper was preparing I crossed the bridge,
and strolled by the river, listening to its murmurs.
Approaching the bank, the beauty of which had
attracted my attention in the carriage, I recognised many
of my old acquaintance growing with great luxuriance.

Seated on it, I could not avoid noting an obvious
remark. Sweden appeared to me the country in the
world most proper to form the botanist and natural
historian; every object seemed to remind me of the
creation of things, of the first efforts of sportive
nature. When a country arrives at a certain state of
perfection, it looks as if it were made so; and curiosity
is not excited. Besides, in social life too many objects
occur for any to be distinctly observed by the generality
of mankind; yet a contemplative man, or poet,
in the country — I do not mean the country adjacent to
cities — feels and sees what would escape vulgar eyes,

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