"_Cela va sans dire_!" and he bowed; "pray do not say any more about the matter;" and he looked at her with such humble and thankful eyes, that Valencia was sorry not to hear more from him than-- "Pray tell me--for of course you know--the name of this exquisite valley up which I am looking." "Gwynnant.

You must go up it when you are well enough; and see the lakes; they are the only ones in Snowdon from the banks of which the primaeval forest has not disappeared." "Indeed?
I must make shift to go there this very afternoon, for--do not laugh at me--but I never saw a lake in my life." "Never saw a lake ?" "No.

I am a true Lowlander: born and bred among bleak Norfolk sands and fens--so much the worse for this chest of mine; and this is my first sight of mountains.

It is all like a dream to me, and a dream which I never expected to be realised." "Ah, you should see our Irish lakes and mountains--you should see Killarney!" "I am content with these; I suppose it is as wrong to break the tenth commandment about scenery, as about anything else." "Ah, but it seems so hard that you, who I am sure would appreciate fine scenery, should have been debarred from it, while hundreds of stupid people run over the Alps and Italy every summer, and come home, as far as I can see, rather more stupid than they went; having made confusion worse confounded by filling their poor brains with hard names out of Murray." "Not quite so hard as that thousands, every day, who would enjoy a meat dinner, should have nothing but dry bread, and not enough of that.

I fancy sometimes, that, in some mysterious way, that want will be made up to them in the next life; and so with all the beautiful things which travelled people talk of--I comfort myself with the fancy, that I see as much as is good for me here, and that if I make good use of that, I shall see the Alps and the Andes in the world to come, or something much more worth seeing.