mountains--these and a thousand other indescribable charms constitute
sources of visual delight which can be imparted only by a view of the
objects themselves. And is excitement awakened in contemplating the
borders of this graceful and magnificent river? Yes. When we revert to
the awful convulsions of the physical world, and the important
revolutions of human society, of which the regions it flows through have
been successively the theatre--when we meditate on the vast changes, the
fearful struggles, the tragic incidents and mournful catastrophes, which
they have witnessed from the earliest ages to the very times in which we
have ourselves lived and marked the issue of events--"the battles,
sieges, fortunes" that have passed before its green tumultuous current,
or within ken of its mountain watch-towers--the shouts of nations that
have resounded, and the fates of empires that have been decided, on its
shores--when we think of the slaughtered myriads whose bones have
bleached on the neighbouring plains, filled up the trenches of its
rock-built strong-holds, or found their place of sepulture beneath its
wave--when, at each survey we take of the wide and diversified scene,
the forms of centuries seem to be embodied with the objects around us,
and the record of the past becomes vividly associated with the
impression of present realities--it is then that we are irresistibly led
to compare the greatness of nature with the littleness of man; it is
then that we are forcibly struck with the power and goodness of the
Author of both; and that the deepest humility unites itself in a
grateful mind, with the highest admiration, at the sight of "these His
lowest works."

But do you pretend, it may be asked, in the course of a three days'
journey, however lengthened by celerity of conveyance, or favoured by
advantages of season or weather--do you pretend to have experienced that
very eminent degree of gratification which the country is capable of