rocks, resembling a lofty gothic arch, and it was my favourite pastime to
sit here in the most perfect seclusion, reading "sermons in stones" and
watching the progress of the tide till it kissed my feet, and often
surrounded me, for the flood came in with great velocity. Between these
rocks and the heights on the eastern side, there was another little
retired creek, renowned in the village annals, for the adventures of Jack
Covering, a noted smuggler on this coast, some forty years ago, with the
locality of which the reader will erewhile become better acquainted. The
magnificence of the convulsed scenery, and yawning chasms around, the deep
intonation and ceaseless roar of the ocean, all combined to awaken in the
mind of the spectator, mingled sensations of admiration and awe.

The coast receded between the eastern point of the cove to that which
terminated the Bay of Torwich, embracing what may be almost termed a
champaign country, compared with the barren scenery I have described; and
displaying the uneven surface of the richly wooded Park of Dovedale, with
the ruins of two castles.

The village of Torwich which stood on a declivity, with an opening descent
to the shore, about half a mile from the entrance of the cove, had little
communication, from the nature of its site, with the neighbouring country,
except when the all-powerful attraction of a wreck existed. Its
inhabitants were chiefly sailors or fishermen, barring a few useless
individuals like myself. I loved to study life in all its gradations--the
"March of Intellect" was yet unknown here! and though the situation
afforded such numerous advantages for smuggling, there were, rather
unaccountably, only three persons in the village connected with the coast
blockade; and it was whispered that relying on the entire seclusion of the
cove, these persons too often winked when they ought to have been astir on
their duty.