and there is no contrast in nature more tragic or
complete than that between the Gothic calm, the tropic
splendour of the island woods, which look towards
the' rising sun, and the torn, storm-wrought landscape
that faces the western sea and the fury of the winds.
Thus on a calm winter day, when the sea is billowy as
oil, one is-confronted on turning the point of an island
with a strange picture of an embodied gale. There is
no ripple on the sea, and the woods are still and silent,
yet they seem shaken in the grasp of a pitiless and
furious storm. It is as though a god had stilled for
ever the blast in the climax of its rage.
VI. W i t h t h e D e v i l
Bidding our Salôn adieu, we steer across a blue,
oily sea for the Elephant, a monstrous group of rocks
rising in sheer cliffs out of the sea. On our left other
islands deploy in long lines, broken by deep and narrow
straits, inter-isjand lakes, and sweeping bays, which
recede to blue mountains in the distance against the
opal of the sky. Every corner tempts us to go round
it, and look for some yet uncaptured beauty ; and that
is one secret of archipelagian charm. You are never
at the end of its mystery. You feel that satisfaction
cannot come to you till you have explored every strait
and island ; and when you have done this, you must
of need begin it all over again, because of the infinite
variety which comes of the ever-changing perspective,
the play of sun and wind, shadow and cloud.
Elephant Island, as we approach it nearer, surpasses
5 6 2
p . 562.
A PAGODA ON. TH E BOAD TO MOULMEIN.