the last supper painting

the last supper painting
ever bordered a wilderness of heath, or gave sustenance to a flock
of grey moorland sheep, with their little mossy-faced lambs:- they
clung to this scene, I say, with a perfect enthusiasm of attachment. I
could comprehend the feeling, and share both its strength and truth. I
saw the fascination of the locality. I felt the consecration of its
loneliness: my eye feasted on the outline of swell and sweep- on the
wild colouring communicated to ridge and dell by moss, by
heath-bell, by flower-sprinkled turf, by brilliant bracken, and mellow
granite crag. These details were just to me what they were to them- so
the last supper painting
many pure and sweet sources of pleasure. The strong blast and the soft
breeze; the rough and the halcyon day; the hours of sunrise and
sunset; the moonlight and the clouded night, developed for me, in
these regions, the same attraction as for them- wound round my
faculties the same spell that entranced theirs.
Indoors we agreed equally well. They were both more accomplished
and better read than I was; but with eagerness I followed in the
path of knowledge they had trodden before me. I devoured the books
they lent me: then it was full satisfaction to discuss with them in
the evening what I had perused during the day. Thought fitted thought;
opinion met opinion: we coincided, in short, perfectly.
the last supper painting