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Yes, but not for everything! Did not Belfast know his business? No! Did they mean to say that he had seen nothing at all? Well, not exactly that, but those scientific gentlemen can seldom be trusted; in their rage for discovery, they make a mountain out of a molehill, or, what is worse, they start a theory and then distort facts to support it.
Disgusted and humiliated by being kept a prisoner for months when the country needed every arm in its defense, by having such a mountain made of the veriest molehill built of a kind act and boyish inexperience, he refused to put in a defense at the investigation and let it go as it would.
The carriage had gone two squares before the silence in it was broken. Then Roy spoke. "What is it, Syd?" he said. "I am sure you are worrying yourself needlessly over something are magnifying it from a molehill into a mountain." "Needlessly? Oh, boys, would that I were! But as soon as I tell you, you will understand it all. And I shall tell you now in a minute.
What had he to do with them? What was there for anyone to do? He paused, then turned and went downstairs again, telling himself that he was a fool that he was making mountains of molehills, that there did not exist, in fact, even a molehill; yet having all the while a sickening feeling within him, as if some gripping hand had got hold of his poor physical and material heart, and was squeezing it.
This I say is not the least of God's blessings which his Majesty hath brought with him unto this land: no, put all our petty grievances together, and heap them up to their height, they will appear but as a molehill compared with the mountain of this concord. It is true that hereof we do not yet find the effect.
Suddenly he made a rush at Martin, and, dealing him a successful blow on the forehead, knocked him down; at the same time he himself tripped over a molehill and fell upon his face. Both were on their legs in an instant. Martin grew desperate. The white kitten swimming for its life seemed to rise before him, and new energy was infused into his frame.
And James Montgomery, in a poem of his which is little known, and which is amplified and spoiled in the latest editions of his works, has suggested to us whither the mortal vestiges of these untold millions have gone. It is entitled Lines to a Molehill in a Churchyard. Tell me, thou dust beneath my feet, Thou dust that once hadst breath, Tell me, how many mortals meet In this small hill of death.
Tanna's most striking sight is its volcano; there is hardly another in the world so easily accessible; for in half an hour from the shore its foot may be reached, and in another half-hour one is at the top. It is about 260 m. high, a miniature volcano, with all its accessories complete, hot springs, lake, desert, etc., always active, rarely destructive, looking like an overgrown molehill.
By wafting winds and flooding rains, From ocean, earth, and sky, Collected here, the frail remains Of slumbering millions lie. The towers and temples crushed by time, Stupendous wrecks, appear To me less mournfully sublime Than this poor molehill here. Methinks this dust yet heaves with breath Ten thousand pulses beat; Tell me, in this small hill of death, How many mortals meet!
Young Roots blew a molehill at twenty paces into a dust cloud, burnt his fingers, and scorched his face; and the weapon having once displayed this strange disposition to flame back upon the shooter, was not subsequently fired.
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