On the right hand is an upward crag, called by some the Castle, easy enough to scale, and giving great view of the Channel.

Facing this, from the inland side and the elbow of the valley, a queer old pile of rock arises, bold behind one another, and quite enough to affright a man, if it only were ten times larger.
This is called the Devil's Cheese-ring, or the Devil's Cheese-knife, which mean the same thing, as our fathers were used to eat their cheese from a scoop; and perhaps in old time the upmost rock (which has fallen away since I knew it) was like to such an implement, if Satan eat cheese untoasted.
But all the middle of this valley was a place to rest in; to sit and think that troubles were not, if we would not make them.

To know the sea outside the hills, but never to behold it; only by the sound of waves to pity sailors labouring.

Then to watch the sheltered sun, coming warmly round the turn, like a guest expected, full of gentle glow and gladness, casting shadow far away as a thing to hug itself, and awakening life from dew, and hope from every spreading bud.

And then to fall asleep and dream that the fern was all asparagus.
Alas, I was too young in those days much to care for creature comforts, or to let pure palate have things that would improve it.