nts of
monstrous forms. All these things which come and go in the troubled
atmosphere of sleep, and to which men give the name of dreams, are, in
truth, only realities invisible to those who walk about the daylight
world. The dream-world is the Aquarium of Night.

So, at least, thought Gilliatt.

VIII

THE GILD-HOLM-'UR SEAT

The curious visitor, in these days, would seek in vain in the little bay
of Houmet for the house in which Gilliatt lived, or for his garden, or
the creek in which he sheltered the Dutch sloop. The Bu de la Rue no
longer exists. Even the little peninsula on which his house stood has
vanished, levelled by the pickaxe of the quarryman, and carried away,
cart-load by cart-load, by dealers in rock and granite. It must be
sought now in the churches, the palaces, and the quays of a great city.
All that ridge of rocks has been long ago conveyed to London.

These long lines of broken cliffs in the sea, with their frequent gaps
and crevices, are like miniature chains of mountains. They strike the
eye with the impression which a giant may be supposed to have in
contemplating the Cordilleras. In the language of the country they are
called "Banques." These banques vary considerably in form. Some resemble
a long spine, of which each rock forms one of the vertebrae; others are
like the backbone of a fish; while some bear an odd resemblance to a
crocodile in the act of drinking.

At the extremity of the ridge on which the Bu de la Rue was situate, was
a large rock, which the fishing people of Houmet called the "Beast's
Horn." This rock, a sort of pyramid, resembled, though less in height,
the "Pinnacle" of Jersey. At high water the sea divided it from the
ridge, and the Horn stood alone; at low water it was approached by an
isthmus of rocks. The remarkable feature of this "Beast's Horn" was a
sort of natural seat on the side next the sea, hollowed out by the
water, and polished by the rains. The seat, however, was a treacherous
one. The stranger was insensibly attracted to it by "the beauty of the
prospect," as the Guernsey folks said. Something detained him there in
spite of himself, for there is a charm in a wide view. The seat seemed
to offer itself for his convenience; it formed a sort of niche in the
peaked _facade_ of the rock. To climb up to it was easy, for the sea,
which had fashioned it out of its rocky base, had also cast beneath it,
at convenient distances, a kind of natural stairs compo