64 RAMBLES OF A NATDEALIST. 



Corbieres encircled by a belt of rocks rising lit tie higher 

 than the water's edge. By degrees these various 

 objects grew confused, and blended into one another ; 

 the sun set, casting a last rosy tint over the evening 

 mist as it descended upon Chausey, enveloping 

 islands and rocks within its gauze-like tissue. Soon 

 all objects had passed out of sight ; the sky, sea, and 

 land were blended into one horizon, and Chausey had 

 disappeared, perhaps for ever, from my view. The 

 thought awakened a deep feeling of sadness. I had 

 passed many happy hours on those desolate rocks, 

 and who could tell what the world, to which I was 

 returning, had yet in store for me ! 



The wind had fallen, not a breeze remained to 

 swell the sails, and we cast anchor till the next 

 morning, when the Delia resumed her course, run- 

 ning at a mile's distance from the coast of Cancale, 

 whose hills, dotted with tufts of trees and country 

 houses, were glowing in the purple tints of the rising 

 sun. We soon doubled the desolate point of Petit 

 Be, where the waves are always breaking against the 

 last resting-place of an illustrious writer, who caused 

 his grave to be hollowed out on the summit of thisrock, 

 as if the agitations of his well spent life had not suf- 

 ficed him, and as if even after death he yearned to 

 linger among the storms of this world.* We were 

 at St. Malo f , whose dark granite houses, rising in 



* Chateaubriand caused his tomb to be erected during his lifetime 

 on the rocky platform of Petit Be, where a simple cross of granite 

 serves as a signal to ships arriving from a distance. 



f The St. Malo men have always been known as skilful traders 

 and adventurous sailors. Their renown in the days of Louis XIV. 



