Wastralls: A Novel

Trevorrick River was but a little stream to have fretted so deep a cleft between the hills as that which sloped from the main road of Tregols parish to the sea. From the source to the engulfing sands was barely a mile and the twinkling waters if full and fierce in winter showed a summer fear of their own broad stepping-stones. Nevertheless the sharp declivities the juttings of rock even the shelves and crags and walls of Dark Head had been formed by the gnawing of this tiny but persistent flow.