Yet another garden, 1 not far from the last, I must not fail Sunrise 

 to touch upon, although a garden so small that an impetuous and Sunset 

 visitor, rushing down upon it from the heights above, might be 

 tempted to imagine that he was himself the discoverer of it, one 

 over which an exceptionally endearing shade of memory seems 

 just now to hang. The house belonging to this garden is 

 placed so nearly perpendicularly below it as to be invisible, 

 and as you stand upon its little terrace and look around you, 

 not a roof, or sign of habitation of any sort save the white 

 lighthouse upon its point, is anywhere to be seen. Of an early 

 summer's morning, when beams are slanting capriciously about 

 amongst the peaks of granite, and when the Gorse and Thyme 

 are waking up to smile under a new sun, it would need an excep- 

 tionally strong abuse of language to lay oneself open to the 

 charge of over-extolling its beauty. Towards sunset hour 

 again whether dead calm and long red lights, or a hustle 

 and bustle of rather sharp-edged breezes are the prevailing 

 notes the shore and the fine gray line of mountains opposite 

 alike keep their own unassailable charm. Best perhaps of all 

 is it if the explorer has energy to mount the little hill once 

 more after dark, or under a young, half-grown moon. Then 

 in the hollow depths below him he will see one after another 

 red sparks like nothing so much as the fireflies of the south 

 stealing stealthily towards him over the invisible water. Nearer 

 and nearer still, till, rounding the nearest bit of headland, they 

 disappear towards where the mouth of the river is awaiting 

 them. 



But space dwindles apace, is reduced now to a mere hands- 

 breadth, yet scarcely a quarter of the gardens, even within our 



1 Carig Braec. 



21 



