The mile or so of moorland over which we now walked to the Land's End
must have looked very beautiful earlier in the year, as the gorse or
furze was mingled with several varieties of heather which had displayed
large bell-formed blooms of various colours, and there had been other
flowers in addition. Even at this late period of the year sufficient
combination of colour remained to give us an idea how beautiful it must
have appeared when at its best. From some distance away we could see the
whitewashed wall of a house displaying in large black letters the words:
"THE FIRST AND LAST HOUSE IN ENGLAND," and this we found to be an inn.
Here we were practically at the end of our walk of 1,372 miles, which
had extended over a period of nine weeks. We had passed through many
dangers and hardships, and a feeling of thankfulness to the Almighty was
not wanting on our part as we found ourselves at the end. We had still
to cross a narrow neck of land which was just wide enough at the top for
a footpath, while almost immediately below we could hear the sea
thundering on each side of us. As we cautiously walked across in single
file our thoughts were running on the many Cornish saints in whose
footsteps we might now be treading, and on King Arthur and the Giant
Tregeagle, when our friend, who was walking ahead, suddenly stopped and
told us we were now on the spot where Charles Wesley stood when he
composed a memorable verse which still appeared in one of his hymns:
Lo! on a narrow neck of land,
'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand
Secure, insensible;
A point of time, a moment's space,
Removes me to that heavenly place
Or shuts me up in hell.
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