soon to be in a smaller one--for no other name can I give to Rusoer.
It would be difficult to form an idea of the place, if you have
never seen one of these rocky coasts.

We were a considerable time entering amongst the islands, before we
saw about two hundred houses crowded together under a very high
rock--still higher appearing above. Talk not of Bastilles! To be
born here was to be bastilled by nature--shut out from all that
opens the understanding, or enlarges the heart. Huddled one behind
another, not more than a quarter of the dwellings even had a
prospect of the sea. A few planks formed passages from house to
house, which you must often scale, mounting steps like a ladder to
enter.

The only road across the rocks leads to a habitation sterile enough,
you may suppose, when I tell you that the little earth on the
adjacent ones was carried there by the late inhabitant. A path,
almost impracticable for a horse, goes on to Arendall, still further
to the westward.

I inquired for a walk, and, mounting near two hundred steps made
round a rock, walked up and down for about a hundred yards viewing
the sea, to which I quickly descended by steps that cheated the
declivity. The ocean and these tremendous bulwarks enclosed me on
every side. I felt the confinement, and wished for wings to reach
still loftier cliffs, whose slippery sides no foot was so hardy as
to tread. Yet what was it to see?--only a boundless waste of water-
-not a glimpse of smiling nature--not a patch of lively green to
relieve the aching sight, or vary the objects of meditation.