fear I was on the point of losing myself. At all events I can go no
further now. And indeed I fear I have been but skirting the Limbo of
Vanities.'

He rose, for we could both see that this talk was not in the least
interesting to our companion. We got again into the carriage, which,
by Falconer's orders, was turned and driven in the opposite direction,
still at no great distance from the lofty edge of the heights that rose
above the shore.

We came at length to a lane bounded with stone walls, every stone of
which had its moss and every chink its fern. The lane grew more and
more grassy; the walls vanished; and the track faded away into a narrow
winding valley, formed by the many meeting curves of opposing hills.
They were green to the top with sheep-grass, and spotted here and there
with patches of fern, great stones, and tall withered foxgloves. The
air was sweet and healthful, and Andrew evidently enjoyed it because
it reminded him again of his boyhood. The only sound we heard was the
tinkle of a few tender sheep-bells, and now and then the tremulous
bleating of a sheep. With a gentle winding, the valley led us into a
more open portion of itself, where the old man paused with a look of
astonished pleasure.

Before us, seaward, rose a rampart against the sky, like the turreted
and embattled wall of a huge eastern city, built of loose stones piled
high, and divided by great peaky rocks. In the centre rose above them
all one solitary curiously-shaped mass, one of the oddest peaks of the
Himmalays in miniature. From its top on the further side was a sheer
descent to the waters far below the level of the valley from which it
immediately rose. It was altogether a strange freaky fantastic place,
not without its grandeur. It looked like the remains of a frolic of
the Titans, or rather as if reared by the boys and girls, while their
fathers and mothers 'lay stretched out huge in length,' and in breadth
too, upon the slopes around, and laughed thunderously at the sportive
invention of their sons and daughters. Falconer helped his father up to
the edge of the rampart that he might look over. Again he started back,
'afraid of that which was high,' for the lowly valley was yet at a great
height above the diminished waves. On the outside of the rampart ran a
narrow path whence the green hill-side went down steep to the sea.
The gulls were screaming far below us; we could see the little flying
streaks of white. Beyond was the g