It is a mistake to keep rigidly to the coast; strike inland & cross the hills, & then you will sight a broad ribbon of sea beneath you, & ships set like toys about it. The land has been draped in all kinds of strange folds at the edge, so that instead of a sheer cliff you find beautiful little valleys with triangular beaches at the bottom of them. Here we spread our tea, & that finished, walk home again in the dark. Last night it was dusk when we started, but we had to take a long look at the Gurnard's Head & the misty shapes beyond, through which suddenly there flashed the fitful glare of the St Just lighthouse. It was late then when we turned back, & we resolved to keep safe upon the road. Before that could be reached we had to fight our way through a forest of ferns which bound ones legs together & brought one to ones knees. The road when we reached it was of a vague white mist upon which our feet struck hard, even to our surprise. As. figure stalking ahead was blurred & without outline, & at a hundred yards distance we had to send our voices out after him to make sure that we had not lost him. In this mystification we left the road, & stepped into a vast trackless country, without mark or boundary. Before us dozens of lights were scattered, floating in soft depths of darkness without anchorage on the firm ground. A. trod on unswervingly, clearing aside the mists as though the road lay bright before him. Once in this strange pilgrimage we groped our way through a farm-yard, where the shapes of dim cattle loomed large, & a great lantern swung an unsteady disk of light across our faces. The voice of the farmer bidding us good night recalled us for a moment to the cheerful land of substance, but our path lay on into the darkness again. We stumbled across fields which swam in dusky vapours; we struck the road, & suddenly a great light shone in front of us, & a cart wheel crunched the ground just beyond us as though the sound of its approach had been muffled in the night. Now we had come to the lights in the valley, & we passed lighted windows, scarcely able to irradiate a yard of the blackness that pressed on them, & could just discover long black figures leaning against the walls quiescent. Night was weighing heavily on this little village; all was silent though not asleep. Then we went on, up to the top of a hill, & again beneath us we saw those great swarms of lights which spring up in the dark where by day there is nothing. And so once more we found the road again, & the familiar lamps of homes. But how narrow were those walls, & how intense that light after the vague immensity of the air; we were like creatures lately winged that have been caught & caged.