Chesterton, G: Ball and the Cross
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Sprache:Englisch
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Verlag:External catalogues_US
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Beschreibung
Produktdetails
Einband
Taschenbuch
Erscheinungsdatum
30.04.2013
Verlag
External catalogues_USSeitenzahl
76
Maße (L/B/H)
24.6/18.9/0.4 cm
Gewicht
167 g
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN
978-1-153-69387-5
Excerpt: ... the top of the mound, against the sky line, stood up the brown skeleton of some broken fence or breakwater. With the grey and watery dawn crawling up behind it, the fence really seemed to say to our philosophic adventurers that they had come at last to the other end of nowhere. Bent by necessity to his labour, MacIan managed the heavy boat with real power and skill, and when at length he ran it up on a smoother part of the slope it caught and held so that they could clamber out, not sinking farther than their knees into the water and the shingle. A foot or two farther up their feet found the beach firmer, and a few moments afterwards they were leaning on the ragged breakwater and looking back at the sea they had escaped. They had a dreary walk across wastes of grey shingle in the grey dawn before they began to come within hail of human fields or roads; nor had they any notion of what fields or roads they would be. Their boots were beginning to break up and the confusion of stones tried them severely, so that they were glad to lean on their swords, as if they were the staves of pilgrims. MacIan thought vaguely of a weird ballad of his own country which describes the soul in Purgatory as walking on a plain full of sharp stones, and only saved by its own charities upon earth. If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon Every night and all, Sit thee down and put them on, And Christ receive thy soul. Turnbull had no such lyrical meditations, but he was in an even worse temper. At length they came to a pale ribbon of road, edged by a shelf of rough and almost colourless turf; and a few feet up the slope there stood grey and weather-stained, one of those big wayside crucifixes which are seldom seen except in Catholic countries. MacIan put his hand to his head and found that his bonnet was not there. Turnbull gave one glance at the crucifix-a glance at once sympathetic and bitter, in which was concentrated the whole of Swinburne's poem on the same occasion....
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