Last words of Thomas Carlyle - Warburg Institute

;WOTTON EEINFRED 43as it were a ground of deepest black, on which thebright, lovely, nay sometimes sportful imagery ofhismind looked out with double grace. With Bernardhis conversation was at all times, and especially onsuch occasions, of the most pleasurable sort. Therewas in them thatagreement of feeling and disagreementof opinion, that similarity in dissimilarity, whichis justly thought to form the great charm of conversation.Much as they disputed they never quarrelled.The scene and the lovely weather were of a kindto maintain the most genial humour.It was a regionas yet unvisited of mail-coaches, traversed only by thesolitary horseman, or some wayworn cadger toilsomelycollecting for city consumpt the minor produce of thedistrict ; a region of knoll and hollow, of modeststreamlet, and lone-lying tree-shaded farm ; the mowerwas stooping in the valleys, where as yet the fields wereall of the greenest ; and ever, as they mounted anyheight, our friends saw before them afar off the longnarrow Frith winding like silver among its craggyheadlands or gray sands ; bej'^ond which, over manyan intervening range, towered up in white light in theextreme distance the world of mountains, with its bluetops and shadowy chasms shutting in like a land ofromance a land of so many fair realities.Pleasantly journeying,amid abundant talk, theyhad reached before sunset the strand of the Frithwhere, advancing to the end of one among several long