There, life must needs be peaceful, natural, and
fruitful, like the life of a plant.
Imagine for yourself an inverted cone of granite hollowed out on a
large scale, a sort of basin with its sides divided up by queer
winding paths. On one side lay level stretches with no growth upon
them, a bluish uniform surface, over which the rays of the sun fell as
upon a mirror; on the other lay cliffs split open by fissures and
frowning ravines; great blocks of lava hung suspended from them, while
the action of rain slowly prepared their impending fall; a few stunted
trees tormented by the wind, often crowned their summits; and here and
there in some sheltered angle of their ramparts a clump of
chestnut-trees grew tall as cedars, or some cavern in the yellowish
rocks showed the dark entrance into its depths, set about by flowers
and brambles, decked by a little strip of green turf.
At the bottom of this cup, which perhaps had been the crater of an
old-world volcano, lay a pool of water as pure and bright as a
diamond. Granite boulders lay around the deep basin, and willows,
mountain-ash trees, yellow-flag lilies, and numberless aromatic plants
bloomed about it, in a realm of meadow as fresh as an English
bowling-green.
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