Hugh Walpole,
The Dyspeptic Critic
(1925)
“ I have travelled in many parts of the globe, but I say definitely that I know nothing more beautiful than that gate into Birds' Island, where a little path leads up from the beach over rocky boulders, breaks on to a stretch of coarse-grained down, and finally skirting a little wood where all the trees, blown sideways by the wind, look as though they were listening for some important news coming across the sea, leads into the rough, ill-paved courtyard that stands in front of the farm. ”
