- Project Runeberg -  Letters written during a short residence in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark /
141

(1889) [MARC] Author: Mary Wollstonecraft With: Henry Morley
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I, however, wandered about; and at last coming to
the conflux of the various cataracts rushing from
different falls, struggling with the huge masses of
rock, and rebounding from the profound cavities, I
immediately retracted, acknowledging that it was
indeed a grand object. A little island stood in the
midst, covered with firs, which, by dividing the torrent,
rendered it more picturesque; one half appearing to
issue from a dark cavern, that fancy might easily
imagine a vast fountain throwing up its waters from
the very centre of the earth.

I gazed I know not how long, stunned with the noise,
and growing giddy with only looking at the
neverceasing tumultuous motion. I listened, scarcely
conscious where I was, when I observed a boy, half
obscured by the sparkling foam, fishing under the
impending rock on the other side. How he had descended
I could not perceive; nothing like human footsteps
appeared, and the horrific crags seemed to bid defiance
even to the goat’s activity. It looked like an abode
only fit for the eagle, though in its crevices some pines
darted up their spiral heads; but they only grew near
the cascade, everywhere else sterility itself reigned with
dreary grandeur; for the huge grey massy rocks, which
probably had been torn asunder by some dreadful
convulsion of nature, had not even their first covering of
a little cleaving moss. There were so many
appearances to excite the idea of chaos, that, instead of
admiring the canal and the works, great as they are termed,
and little as they appear, I could not help regretting
that such a noble scene had not been left in all its

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