oachments of the blowing sand. As you advanced
into it from coastward, elders were succeeded by other hardy shrubs; but
the timber was all stunted and bushy; it led a life of conflict; the
trees were accustomed to swing there all night long in fierce winter
tempests; and even in early spring the leaves were already flying, and
autumn was beginning, in this exposed plantation. Inland the ground rose
into a little hill, which, along with the islet, served as a sailing
mark for seamen. When the hill was open of the islet to the north,
vessels must bear well to the eastward to clear Graden Ness and the
Graden Bullers. In the lower ground, a streamlet ran among the trees,
and, being dammed with dead leaves and clay of its own carrying, spread
out every here and there, and lay in stagnant pools. One or two ruined
cottages were dotted about the wood; and, according to Northmour, these
were ecclesiastical foundations, and in their time had sheltered pious
hermits.

I found a den, or small hollow, where there was a spring of pure water;
and there, clearing away the brambles, I pitched the tent, and made a
fire to cook my supper. My horse I picketed farther in the wood where
there was a patch of sward. The banks of the den not only concealed the
light of my fire, but sheltered me from the wind, which was cold as well
as high.

The life I was leading made me both hardy and frugal. I never drank but
water, and rarely ate anything more costly than oatmeal; and I required
so little sleep that, although I rose with the peep of day, I would
often lie long awake in the dark or starry watches of the night. Thus in
Graden Sea-Wood, although I fell thankfully asleep by eight in the
evening, I was awake again before eleven with a full possession of my
faculties, and no sense of drowsiness or fatigue. I rose and sat by the
fire, watching the trees and clouds tumultuously tossing and fleeing
overhead, and hearkening to the wind and the rollers along the shore;
till at length, growing weary of inaction, I quitted the den, and
strolled towards the borders of the wood. A young moon, buried in mist,
gave a faint illumination to my steps; and the light grew brighter as I
walked forth into the links. At the same moment, the wind, smelling salt
of the open ocean, and carrying particles of sand, struck me with its
full force, so that I had to bow my head.

When I raised it again to look about me, I was aware of a light in the
pavilion. It was not