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قراءة كتاب The Isles of Scilly Their Story their Folk & their Flowers

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‏اللغة: English
The Isles of Scilly
Their Story their Folk & their Flowers

The Isles of Scilly Their Story their Folk & their Flowers

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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20 THE GARRISON GATEWAY, ST. MARY’S 32 CROMWELL’S CASTLE, FROM CHARLES’S CASTLE 36 A GREY EVENING IN SCILLY 44 A FIELD OF ARUMS 52 A COTTAGE FLOWER-GROWER, TRESCO 58 THE GIANT’S PUNCH-BOWL, ST. AGNES 66 ST. MARTIN’S PIER 74 CRAB-POT-MAKING BY ST. AGNES CHURCH 76 A FLOWER-BARROW, HUGH TOWN 82 DAFFODILS ON ST. MARTIN’S 90 OLD CHURCH, ST. MARY’S 98 SUNSET OVER SAMSON 104 A SHAG PARLIAMENT 110 THE ENTRANCE TO HUGH TOWN, FROM THE OLD PIER 118 PICKING FLOWERS BY THE CASTLE ROCKS 128 MONK’S COWL ROCK, ST. MARY’S 134 GIMBLE BAY, TRESCO 148 ARMOREL’S COTTAGE 156 A FLOWER-HOUSE ON ST. AGNES 162 ROUND ISLAND, FROM ST. HELEN’S 174 OFF TO ST. MARTIN’S 180 MAP OF THE ISLES OF SCILLY 10


MAP OF THE SCILLY ISLES George Philip & Son Ltd


I
INTRODUCTORY

A “COLOUR-BOOK” on Scilly needs no apology, so far as the subject is concerned, for there is no corner of Great Britain which more demands or deserves a tribute to its colour than do these little islands, scattered about in the Atlantic twenty-eight miles from the Land’s End.

For they are all colour; they gleam and glow with it; they shimmer like jewels “set in the silver sea.” No smoke from city, factory, or railway contaminates their pure air, or dims the brilliancy of their sunshine. They are virgin-isles, still unspoiled and inviolate in this prosaic age, when beauty and charm are apt to flee before the path of progress.

And though their compass is but small, the same cannot be said of their attraction, which seems to be almost in inverse proportion to their size. Scilly exerts a spell over her lovers which brings them back and back, again and yet again, across that stretch of the “vasty deep” which separates her from Cornwall. In this case it might almost better be called the “nasty deep,” for very nasty this particular stretch can be, as all Scillonians know!

Nor do the islands lack variety. There are downs covered with the golden glory of the gorse, with the pink of the sea-thrift, with the purple of the heather; there are hills clothed with bracken breast-high in summer, and changing from green-gold to red-gold as the year advances; there are barren rocks on which the sea-birds love to gather; there are lovely beaches of white sand, strewn with many-coloured shells and seaweed; there are clusters of palm-trees growing with Oriental luxuriance, next to fields and pastures where the sheep and cattle feed; there are bare and dreary-looking moors, “the sad sea-sounding wastes of Lyonnesse”; there are stretches of loose sand, some planted with long grass to keep the wind from lifting it, some with a mantle of mesembryanthemum, which here grows wild like a weed;—and all of them seen against a background of that wonderful and ever-changing sea, which is sometimes the pale blue of the turquoise, sometimes the deepest ultramarine, sometimes again shimmering silver or radiant gold. And then in spring there are the famous flower-fields. Let us visit the islands on an April day, and see for ourselves

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