Hence also, walks about
Putney and Twickenham in the summer time acquainted him with the look
of English meadow-ground in its restricted states of paddock and park;
and with some round-headed appearances of trees, and stately entrances
to houses of mark: the avenue at Bushy, and the iron gates and carved
pillars of Hampton,[128] impressing him apparently with great awe and
admiration; so that in after life his little country house is,--of all
places in the world,--at Twickenham! Of swans and reedy shores he now
learns the soft motion and the green mystery, in a way not to be
forgotten.
And at last fortune wills that the lad's true life shall begin; and one
summer's evening, after various wonderful stage-coach experiences on
the north road, which gave him a love of stage-coaches ever after, he
finds himself sitting alone among the Yorkshire hills.[129] For the
first time, the silence of Nature round him, her freedom sealed to him,
her glory opened to him. Peace at last; no roll of cart-wheel, nor
mutter of sullen voices in the back shop; but curlew-cry in space of
heaven, and welling of bell-toned streamlet by its shadowy rock.
Freedom at last. Dead-wall, dark railing, fenced field, gated garden,
all passed away like the dream, of a prisoner; and behold, far as foot
or eye can race or range, the moor, and cloud.
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