They looked and looked, readjusting their
glasses, but the details were becoming more and more difficult to catch.
The reliefs grew more and more blurred and the outlines dimmer and
dimmer. Even the great mountain profiles began to fade away, the
dazzling colors to grow duller, the jet black shadows greyer, and the
general effect mistier.
At last, the distance had become so great that, of this lunar world so
wonderful, so fantastic, so weird, so mysterious, our travellers by
degrees lost even the consciousness, and their sensations, lately so
vivid, grew fainter and fainter, until finally they resembled those of a
man who is suddenly awakened from a peculiarly strange and impressive
dream.
CHAPTER XIX.
IN EVERY FIGHT, THE IMPOSSIBLE WINS.
No matter what we have been accustomed to, it is sad to bid it farewell
forever. The glimpse of the Moon's wondrous world imparted to Barbican
and his companions had been, like that of the Promised Land to Moses on
Mount Pisgah, only a distant and a dark one, yet it was with
inexpressibly mournful eyes that, silent and thoughtful, they now
watched her fading away slowly from their view, the conviction
impressing itself deeper and deeper in their souls that, slight as their
acquaintance had been, it was never to be renewed again.
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