130 HELE STRAND. 



by an insular rock at some distance from the shore, 

 that bears a very faithful resemblance to a couching 

 lion. It is visible of course at all times, except at 

 very high spring-tides, when the sea reaches the level 

 of the colossal statue's back, but it is only the apex 

 of the rock that forms the likeness, and this is of 

 course less conspicuous when the shapeless lower 

 part is also exposed. 



I said that Hele is a picturesque village. The 

 houses are partly placed around the base of Hillsbo- 

 rough, up whose steep side the gardens extend, and 

 pai-tly up a lovely valley. A brawling brook comes 

 down through this wooded glen, turns the village 

 mill-wheel, and runs off to the sea between two walls, 

 one of which forms a causeway about a yard in width, 

 between the cottage-doors and the water-course. 



This leads us to the cove, — Hele Strand as it is 

 called, — an admixture, like all the coves hereabout, of 

 pebbly beach and ledges of rough rock, with many 

 sharp ragged points and eminences rising on every 

 hand. The bounding promontories that form the 

 inlet are of the same rough character, wildly pictur- 

 esque to look at, but scarcely less unapproachable 

 than chevaux de jrize. 



Almost every little cove with which this iron-bound 

 coast is indented has its legendary story of shipwreck, 

 or marvellous escape from shipwreck. Our landlady's 

 daughter is eloquent in her description of an incident 

 of the latter character that occured in this little cove. 

 I will give it you as nearly as possible in her own 

 words. 



"There was a little vessel called the 'Maid of 



