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164
Glaucus; Or, The Wonders of the Shore
·
Charles Kingsley
42
Torbay
is
a
place
which
should
be
as
much
endeared
to
the
naturalist
as
to
the
patriot
and
to
the
artist.
We
cannot
gaze
on
its
blue
ring
of
water,
and
the
great
limestone
bluffs
which
bound
it
to
the
north
and
south,
without
a
glow
passing
through
our
hearts,
as
we
remember
the
terrible
and
glorious
pageant
which
passed
by
in
the
glorious
July
days
of
1588,
when
the
Spanish
Armada
ventured
slowly
past
Berry
Head,
with
Elizabeth’s
gallant
pack
of
Devon
captains
(for
the
London
fleet
had
not
yet
joined)
following
fast
in
its
wake,
and
dashing
into
the
midst
of
the
vast
line,
undismayed
by
size
and
numbers,
while
their
kin
and
friends
stood
watching
and
praying
on
the
cliffs,
spectators
of
Britain’s
Salamis.
The
white
line
of
houses,
too,
on
the
other
side
of
the
bay,
is
Brixham,
famed
as
the
landing-place
of
William
of
Orange;
the
stone
on
the
pier-head,
which
marks
his
first
footsteps
on
British
ground,
is
sacred
in
the
eyes
of
all
true
English
Whigs;
and
close
by
stands
the
castle
of
the
settler
of
Newfoundland,
Sir
Humphrey
Gilbert,
Raleigh’s
half-brother,
most
learned
of
all
Elizabeth’s
admirals
in
life,
most
pious
and
heroic
in
death.
And
as
for
scenery,
though
it
can
boast
of
neither
mountain
peak
nor
dark
fiord,
and
would
seem
tame
enough
in
the
eyes
of
a
western
Scot
or
Irishman,
yet
Torbay
surely
has
a
soft
beauty
of
its
own.
The
rounded
hills
slope
gently
to
the
sea,
spotted
with
squares
of
emerald
grass,
and
rich
red
fallow
fields,
and
parks
full
of
stately
timber
trees.
Long
lines
of
tall
elms
run
down
to
the
very
water’s
edge,
their
boughs
unwarped
by
any
blast;
here
and
there
apple
orchards
are
bending
under
their
loads
of
fruit,
and
narrow
strips
of
water-meadow
line
the
glens,
where
the
red
cattle
are
already
lounging
in
richest
pastures,
within
ten
yards
of
the
rocky
pebble
beach.
The
shore
is
silent
now,
the
tide
far
out:
but
six
hours
hence
it
will
be
hurling
columns
of
rosy
foam
high
into
the
sunlight,
and
sprinkling
passengers,
and
cattle,
and
trim
gardens
which
hardly
know
what
frost
and
snow
may
be,
but
see
the
flowers
of
autumn
meet
the
flowers
of
spring,
and
the
old
year
linger
smilingly
to
twine
a
garland
for
the
new.
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