Such a profound darkness and quiet one expects in an inland agricultural village; here, where there were visitors from many distant towns, it was novel and infinitely refreshing.
No sooner was it dark than all were in bed and asleep; not one square path of yellow light was visible.

To enjoy the sensation I went out and sat down, and listened alone to the liquid rippling, warbling sound of the swift-flowing streamlet--that sweet low music of running water to which the reed-warbler had listened thousands of years ago, striving to imitate it, until his running rippling song was perfect.
A fresh surprise and pleasure awaited me when I explored the coast east of the village; it was bold and precipitous in places, and from the summit of the cliff a very fine view of the coast-line on either hand could be obtained.

Best of all, the face of the cliff itself was the breeding-place of some hundreds of herring-gulls.

The eggs at the period of my visit were not yet hatched, but highly incubated, and at that stage both parents are almost constantly at home, as if in a state of anxious suspense.

I had seen a good many colonies of this gull before at various breeding stations on the coast--south, west, and east--but never in conditions so singularly favourable as at this spot.