Here, trusting for their future
security to certain sand-hills which the capricious waves have thrown
up to encourage them, the people of Aldborough have boldly established
their quaint little watering-place. The first fragment of their earthly
possessions is a low natural dike of shingle, surmounted by a public
path which runs parallel with the sea. Bordering this path, in a broken,
uneven line, are the villa residences of modern Aldborough--fanciful
little houses, standing mostly in their own gardens, and possessing here
and there, as horticultural ornaments, staring figure-heads of ships
doing duty for statues among the flowers. Viewed from the low level
on which th ese villas stand, the sea, in certain conditions of the
atmosphere, appears to be higher than the land: coasting-vessels gliding
by assume gigantic proportions, and look alarmingly near the windows.
Intermixed with the houses of the better sort are buildings of other
forms and periods. In one direction the tiny Gothic town-hall of old
Aldborough--once the center of the vanished port and borough--now
stands, fronting the modern villas close on the margin of the sea. At
another point, a wooden tower of observation, crowned by the figure-head
of a wrecked Russian vessel, rises high above the neighboring houses,
and discloses through its scuttle-window grave men in dark clothing
seated on the topmost story, perpetually on the watch--the pilots of
Aldborough looking out from their tower for ships in want of help.
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