Finally, I Came To The Last And Largest Group Of All, The End
Of The Village Nearest To The Sea, Within Ten Minutes' Walk Of
The Shingly Beach.
Here I was glad to rest.
Above, on the
giant downs, were stony waste places, and heather and gorse,
where the rabbits live, and had for neighbours the adder,
linnet, and wheatear, and the small grey titlark that soared
up and dropped back to earth all day to his tinkling little
tune. On the summit of the cliff I had everything I wanted
and had come to seek - the wildness and freedom of untilled
earth; an unobstructed prospect, hills beyond hills of
malachite, stretching away along the coast into infinitude,
long leagues of red sea-wall and the wide expanse and
everlasting freshness of ocean. And the village itself, the
little old straggling place that had so grand a setting, I
quickly found that the woman in the cottage had not succeeded
in giving me a false impression of her dear home. It was just
such a quaint unimproved, old-world, restful place as she had
painted. It was surprising to find that there were many
visitors, and one wondered where they could all stow
themselves. The explanation was that those who visited
Branscombe knew it, and preferred its hovels to the palaces
of the fashionable seaside town. No cottage was too mean to
have its guest. I saw a lady push open the cracked and
warped door of an old barn and go in, pulling the door to
after her - it was her bed-sitting-room.
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