The longer
we looked, the more wonderful seemed its solemn and exquisite tone. The
trees beneath which we stood waved and bent and rustled in the strong
wind that blew; and beyond all stretched the dreary plain; dreary and
desolate, but adding much to the charm of the picture. It was a scene
never to be forgotten; but it was, after all, a scene appealing only to
certain temperaments: to those who delight in the highest forms of
architecture; in walls time-honoured and lichen-stained; who find beauty
and charm ever in the blue sky and the waving trees; a charm that is
chiefly spiritual.
Leaving the church behind us, and the dreary plain to our left, we
passed into a country road with high hedges. This soon led us to a
pathway across the fields. About a mile in the distance the steeples of
Lesneven rose up and served us as beacons. The day was still young and
the sun was high in the heavens. Small white clouds chased each other
rapidly, driven by the strong wind that blew. We soon reached the quiet
town and found it quiet with a vengeance. Not knowing the way to the
inn where our coachman had put up, it was some time before we could
discover an inhabitant to direct us. At length we found a human being
who had evidently come abroad under some mistaken impression, or in a
fit of absence of mind. At the same time a child issued from a doorway.
We felt quite in a small crowd. It was a humble child, but with a very
charming and innocent expression; one of those faces that take
possession of you at once and for ever.
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