“We had proceeded in this manner for some miles, and I was beginning to realize the fact that we were out of our reckoning, when, suddenly emerging from between two sand-hills, I saw a wide stretch of green meadow land, and beyond it a glorified piece of water. The sun was shining brightly, the water sparkled like a mirror, calm as glass, and without a breath. As we appeared, a large heron rose from the spot in the water-side where we had been standing
Still as a stone, without a sound
Above his dim blue shade,
and sailed leisurely away. Around the lake, which was about a mile in circumference, the road ran winding till it reached the further side, where more sand-hills began; but between these sand-hills I caught a sparkling glimpse of more water, and (guided to my conclusion by the red sail of a fishing-smack just glimmering in the horizon line) I knew that further water was—the sea.
“The spot had all the charm of complete desolation, combined with the charm which always, to my mind, pertains to lakes and lagoons. Eager as a boy or a loosened retriever, I ran across the meadow, and found the grass long and green, and sown with innumerable crowsfoot flowers; underneath the green was sand again, but here it glimmered like gold-dust. As I reached the sedges on the lake-side, a teal rose in full summer plumage, wheeled swiftly round the lake, then returning, splashed down boldly, and swam within a stone’s throw of the shore, when, peering through the rushes, I caught a glimpse of his mate, paddling anxiously along with eight little fluffs of down behind her. Then, just outside the sedges, I saw the golden shield of water broken by the circles of rising trout. It was too much. I hastened back to the caravan, and informed Tim that I had no intention of going any further—that day at least.
“So here we have been since yesterday, and, up to this, have not set eyes upon a single soul. Such peace and quietness is a foretaste of Paradise. As this is the most satisfactory day I have yet spent in my pilgrimage, although it bears, at the same time, a family likeness to the other days of the past fortnight, I purpose setting down verbatim, seriatim, and chronologically the manner in which I occupied myself from dawn to sunset.
“6 a.m.—Wake and see that Tim has already disappeared, and folded up his hammock. Observe the morning sun looking in with a fresh cheery countenance at the window. Turn over again with a yawn, and go to sleep for another five minutes.
“7.15 a.m.—Wake again, and discover, by looking at my watch, that instead of five minutes I have slept an hour and a quarter. Spring up at once, and slip on shirt and trousers; then pass out, barefooted, into the open air. No sign of Tim, but a fire is lighted close to the caravan, which shadows it from the rays of the morning sun. Stroll down to the lake, and, throwing off what garments I wear, prepare for a bath. Cannot get out for a swim on account of the reeds. The bath over, return and finish my toilet in the caravan.
“8 a.m.—Tim has reappeared. He has been right down to the sea-shore, a walk of about two miles and a half. He informs me, to my disgust, that there is some sort of a human settlement there, and a lifeboat station. He has brought back in his baglet, as specimens of the local products, a dozen new-laid eggs, some milk, and a loaf of bread. The last, I observe, is in a fossil state. I asked who sold it him? He answers, William Jones.
“8.30 a.m.—We breakfast splendidly. Even the fossil loaf yields sustenance, after it is cut up and dissolved in hot tea. Between whiles, Tim informs me that the settlement down yonder is, in his opinion, a poor sort of a place. There are several white-washed cottages, and a large roofless house for all the world like a church. Devil the cow or pig did he see at all, barrin’ a few hens. Any boats? I ask. Yes, one with the bottom knocked out, belonging to William Jones.