From the island, at the point opposite Neptune’s Throne, a good view of Sark is obtained; on one day it will be seen standing clearly above the sea, with Brechou or Merchant’s Island clearly discernible, and La Coupee (the isthmus which holds the two parts of the island together) plainly in view in the sunlight; while on another day but a misty view of it may be obtained; on yet another day it will be quite invisible, although the distance is only about six miles.

Resuming our path, Herm is close on our right, the swift channel, La Percee, running between us and it, and as it lies in the sun looks a very beautiful picture, especially as the prettiest end, the south, is presented to our view.  A little further we turn up the hill and come to a grove of rather stunted trees, standing like a double row of soldiers up to their knees in braken.  It is a lovely spot, as the pretty fern-like brakes grow in great luxuriance beneath the spreading arms of the walnut and other trees.  These brakes grow so tall and thick that it is quite difficult to force a passage through them, except where I have cut a narrow path leading to a clearing, across which, on hot days, I frequently swing my hammock, so as to obtain the full benefit of the cool sea breeze as I sway beneath the welcome shadow of the biggest walnut.

Beyond the grove, at the summit of the island, is my arable land, my farm, lying in a fence of wire-netting, without which I should not be able to preserve a blade of anything eatable from the hordes of rabbits which make the island a perfect warren.

We descend again to the pathway with care, as the island’s side is so steep here that a trip over a stone or root might result in fatal consequences.

As we approach the north-east corner of the island we find the pathway gradually descending, till we are not more than twenty or thirty feet above sea level, and notice that a spur of land hooks out into the sea, forming quite a little bay, very rugged, and very rocky, but still very convenient as a haven in light weather.  Here I keep my crab and lobster pots, as it is easily accessible from the house.  I call it Baie de Homard (Lobster Bay).

Keeping along the shore, to the north end of the island, we arrive at a two-storied stone building which stands on the beach.  This is my store-house (for fishing gear, etc.) and workshop, and is situated only a short distance from the house—­perhaps three hundred yards.  In the days of the old privateers this house played an important part, for it was fitted as a blacksmith’s and carpenter’s shop, and was probably a very handy place for slight repairs to be carried out at very short notice.

Leaving the Store, a beautiful velvety path, broad enough for a cart road, leads up a slight ascent skirting the beach to the house and cottage, which I naturally call by a word very dear to me in my solitude—­home.

I will ask the reader to glance at the accompanying plan to aid him in getting a clearer idea of this homestead than my pen, unaided by pictorial effort, would convey.