After breakfast, we walked
on the beaches. It was quite low tide, no waves, and the fine sand
eddying wildly about. I came home with that frenzied headache which
you are so unlucky as to know, covered my head with wet towels, and
went to bed. After dinner I was better, and we went to the
Spouting-horn. C---- was perched close to the fissure, far above me,
and, in a pale green dress, she looked like the nymph of the place. I
lay down on a rock, low in the water, where I could hear the twin
harmonies of the sucking of the water into the spout, and the washing
of the surge on the foot of the rock. I never passed a more delightful
afternoon. Clouds of pearl and amber were slowly drifting across the
sky, or resting a while to dream, like me, near the water. Opposite
me, at considerable distance, was a line of rock, along which the
billows of the advancing tide chased one another, and leaped up
exultingly as they were about to break. That night we had a sunset of
the gorgeous, autumnal kind, and in the evening very brilliant
moonlight; but the air was so cold I could enjoy it but a few minutes.
Next day, which was warm and soft, I was out on the rocks all day. In
the afternoon I was out alone, and had an admirable place, a cleft
between two vast towers of rock with turret-shaped tops.
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