But soon the hills
grow cold too, Golden Cap holding out bravely to the last, and the shades
of evening settle over cliff and wood, cornfield and meadow.
These are but a part, and a very small part, of the changes of a single
day. And scarce any two days are alike. At times a sea-fog covers
everything. Again the sea which sleeps to-day so peacefully sometimes
rages, and the very existence of the bay itself bears witness to its
force.
The night, again, varies like the day. Sometimes shrouded by a canopy of
darkness, sometimes lit up by millions of brilliant worlds, sometimes
bathed in the light of a moon, which never retains the same form for two
nights together.
If Lakes are less grand than the sea, they are in some respects even more
lovely. The seashore is comparatively bare. The banks of Lakes are often
richly clothed with vegetation which comes close down to the water's edge,
sometimes hanging even into the water itself. They are often studded with
well-wooded islands. They are sometimes fringed with green meadows,
sometimes bounded by rocky promontories rising directly from comparatively
deep water, while the calm bright surface is often fretted by a delicate
pattern of interlacing ripples, or reflects a second, softened, and
inverted landscape.
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