c. These things a mere pen,
however facile and graceful, cannot adequately describe without the help
of the reader's brain; so I will ask him to imagine the above for
himself, but I must warn him not to take cold with his lively
imagination, as occasionally the March winds are very keen here, and in
the present age of hypnotism, and thought-reading, and like gymnastics
of the brain, it is very easy to make the imagination play pranks of an
undesirable nature.

Now to resume our walk. Taking the middle path we quickly ascend to a
height of nearly two hundred feet above the boiling surge dashing
against the impregnable rocks below, and get a splendid view of
Guernsey, a good three miles distant, stretching far away to the north,
where it lies so low that it seems to melt gradually away into the sea.
Presently we come to some huge rocks which lie so much in our path that
the footway has to wind round them. They are huge masses of granite so
poised that apparently a good push would send them rolling into the sea
below, but their very size makes them secure, as some of the larger ones
must certainly weigh forty or fifty tons, and the wind would have to
blow a hurricane indeed which would dislodge them.

Here is one weighing perhaps three or four hundredweight which I will
try and push over. I tug, and push, and presently it nods, and nods, and
rolls over and over, till gathering impetus down the steep side of the
island, it crashes with irresistible force through the furze, and
heather, and shrubs, clearing a path as it goes till it reaches the
granite rocks, upon which it crashes and bounds, breaking off great
splinters, till finally with a boom it buries itself in the foam, never
more to be seen by mortal eyes.

Following the path we come to some curious terraces, one above the
other, which form a hanging garden facing due south. Now covered with
turf, it was many years ago a famous potato garden. This spot is known
as the Cotils.

Almost opposite this end of the island and at a short distance, rises
the huge pyramidal mass of granite called La Fauconnaire (The Falconry).
It is nearly two hundred feet high, and surmounted, as already
mentioned, by a white stone beacon, which from Jethou looks the shape
and size of a loaf of white sugar; but a scramble to the top of the
rocks for those who have nerve to climb the steep sides of La
Fauconnaire, will show that the sugar loaf is fifteen feet high. La
Fauconnaire is, I bel