hree, and if parties come and come, and always
find us full (through your being here, you know), they will think it is
no use coming, and we shall lose our custom.' We did stay on, however,
a pretty long time--it was a place of ineffable beauty, such as one
parts from almost with tears--and when on our departure I asked for my
bill, the landlady said, 'Dear me, sir, would you kindly tell me what
day you come upon, for I ha' lost my account of it?' The life we led at
that inn was purely pastoral; the clotted cream was of that consistency
that it was meat and drink in one; but although the fare was homely, it
was good of its kind, and admirably cooked. There was fresh fish every
day--for we were too far from railways for that Gargantuan ogre, 'the
London market,' to deprive us of it--and tender fowls, and jams of all
kinds such as no money could buy.

The landlady had a genius for making what she called 'conserves,' and
every cupboard in the queer little house was filled with them. In the
sitting-room was a quantity of old china and knick-knacks, brought by
the sailors of the place from foreign lands; the linen was white as
snow, and smelt of lavender. Outside the inn was a sea that stretched
to Newfoundland, and cliffs that caught the sunset--such scenery as is
not surpassed by that of the Tyrol (though, of course, in a very
different line), and be sure I was afraid of no comparison between our
'Travellers' Rest' and any Tyrolean inn. It is noteworthy that this
hostelry of ours was so peculiarly and picturesquely placed that it
could only be approached on foot, which reminds me of another place of
entertainment for man, but not for beast.

In appearance, 'The Strangers' Welcome' (as I will take leave to term
it) is more ambitious than 'The Rest,' but it is of the same simple
type. In some respects it is even more primitive; no sign hangs over
its door, nor is any other symbol of its vocation visible, 'Liberty,'
not 'License,' as one may say without much metaphor, being its motto.
It is on an island, so insignificant in extent that horse exercise is
impossible on it. What it lacks in superficial area is more than made
up, however, in its stupendous height. From the 'Welcome,' though it
lies in a dell, one looks down perhaps a hundred sheer feet upon the
ocean. Its solemn murmur, even in calm, always reaches the place, and
when in storm, its spray. As one watches it from the lawn among the
fuchsias, one scarcely knows whi