Beyond the flowery wet meadows, favored by starlings and a
breeding-place of swans, is the famous Chesil Bank, one of the
seven wonders of Britain. And thanks to this great bank, a
screen between sea and land extending about fourteen miles
eastward from Portland, this part of the coast must remain
inviolate from the speculative builder of seaside holiday
resorts or towns of lodging-houses.
Every one has heard of the Fleet in connection with the famous
swannery of Abbotsbury, the largest in the land. I had heard
so much about the swannery that it had but little interest for
me. The only thing about it which specially attracted my
attention was seeing a swan rise up and after passing over my
head as I stood on the bank fly straight out over the sea. I
watched him until he had diminished to a small white spot
above the horizon, and then still flying he faded from sight.
Do these swans that fly away over the sea, and others which
appear in small flocks or pairs at Poole Harbour and at other
places on the coast, ever return to the Fleet? Probably some
do, but, I fancy some of these explorers must settle down in
waters far from home, to return no more.
The village itself, looked upon from this same elevation, is
very attractive. Life seems quieter, more peaceful there out
of sight of the ocean's turbulence, out of hearing of its
"accents disconsolate." The cottages are seen ranged in a
double line along the narrow crooked street, like a procession
of cows with a few laggards scattered behind the main body.
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