THE WONDERS OF THE SHORE. 59 
slope gently to the sea, spotted with squares of 
emerald grass, and rich red fallow fields, and parks 
full of stately timber trees. Long lines of tall elms 
run down to. the very water’s edge, their boughs 
unwarped by any blast; here and there apple 
orchards are bending under their loads of fruit, and 
narrow strips of water-meadow line the glens, where 
the red cattle are already lounging in richest 
pastures, within ten yards of the rocky pebble 
beach. The shore is silent now, the tide far out: 
but six hours hence it will be hurling columns of 
rosy foam high into the sunlight, and sprinkling 
passengers, and cattle, and trim gardens which 
hardly know what frost and snow may he, but see 
the flowers of autumn meet the flowers of spring, 
and the old year linger smilingly to twine a garland 
for the new. 
No wonder that such a spot as Torquay, with its 
delicious Italian climate, and endless variety of rich 
woodland, flowery lawn, fantastic rock-cavern, and 
broad bright tide-sand, sheltered from every wind 
of heaven except the soft south-east, should have 
