It is a great thing in this little lodging house that we look on the sea from all the large windows. When I wake in the morning I discover first what new ships have come in to the day, all day long these silent voyagers are coming & going, alighting like some travelling birds for a moment & then shaking out their sails again & passing on to new waters. Where do they come from, & whither are they bound? A ship moves in mysterious ways. In the morning we see the luggers starting for their fishing grounds; late in the afternoon they come racing back on the wind, like so many birds swooping on their prey. Most beautiful of all are the great sailing ships, which ply up & down the Channel.

At the sea, especially perhaps this distant Cornish sea, people seem to strip themselves of some of the integuments in which they wrap themselves where the criticism of eyes is to be dreaded. We seem to have come to a common agreement here not to look surprised at bare heads & hands; to accept hair flying in the wind, & bathing towels wrapped round the neck, as the simple & natural things. This unconventionality of dress is reflected in the tanned faces & the free stride of the legs. We are all consciously taking holiday & running wild in the open air. The results are sometimes a little crude, perhaps; ladies, stout & middle aged, conceive themselves under this fresh stimulant in their first youth again; shorten their skirts, throw aside their bonnets, & caper as they walk, consciously, almost defiantly as though they asserted a right which your mild glance of inquiry would deny them.

But the high tide of the summer holidays is over, & the blatant holiday maker has already lost his sunburnt skin in some City office. The remnant are more sedate; they detect an autumnal flavour in the breeze, & huddle in thick cloaks & fur jackets.

August has a certain fiery & sultry quality of her own, which fades before her last days of the month are over. September has mellowed whatever there was of roughness in her heat: the days are more perfect, but less vigorous. The summer in fact is on the wane; peacefully fading like some brilliant spot of light. The colours of the sunset are everywhere.

When the sun sets you may see from this window little sparks of light scattered among the sandhills where no houses themselves are visible; the windows are thus emblazoned by the sun.