52 By the Rippling Sea. 



though they are only high and perpendicular for a short 

 distance, and, indeed, the low ones, that are not so steep, 

 and are clothed with golden-rods, bay-berry bushes and 

 asters, are much more companionable. There was a small 

 cleft, or bight, in the cliff that opened to the southwest 

 and met at right angles to the shore. It was so narrow 

 that someone had laid a short beam from side to side and 

 used it as a seat, from whence they might look along the 

 shore and the sea. The view was bounded by a projecting 

 cliff in the distance, where leaned some tottering trees. 

 The white-breasted swallows skimmed the surface of the 

 bay, now and then dipping as they flew, and a kingfisher 

 sounded his rattle. The beach was covered with innumer- 

 able little stones, and the inrush and outgo of the waves 

 caused them to roll, and the sound of their striking against 

 one another was added to that produced by the sea itself. 

 There was not a sign of a human habitation from the 

 bight, or anything to remind me that mine were not the 

 only footprints ever made in the sand. The world of men 

 seemed far away, and the hours were as peaceful as if I 

 had found one of the by-paths leading to the Garden of 

 Eden. 



A pear-tree leaned over the bank by the shore and 

 cast its fruit down the slope to the sand, and there were 

 also seedling apple-trees that gave me and the crickets of 

 their abundance. At one place a small rat scampered 

 away, and anon I passed by a sleeping dog on the sand, 

 so silently that he he did not know that any one was 

 near. 



As I approached a small house by the shore, a frisky, 



