How silent and how solitary it was; for even what men were near were underground, and not a roof to be seen any where, nor track of man nor beast, nor even a tree.
There had been men enough, and beasts and trees too, in old times--heathen and ravening creatures, and huge forests; but it seemed, as the wayfarer looked around him, as though all things had been as he now beheld them from the beginning of creation.

Richard, artist though he was by calling, had not the soul to take pleasure in a picture for the filling in of which so much imagination was required; and he turned aside to one of the stony hills, and climbed it, in hopes to see some dwelling-place of man.

He was gregarious by nature, and, besides, he was in want of his mid-day meal.
There was feast enough before him for his eyes.
In front lay a great table-land, indented here and there with three chasm-like bays, which showed how high the cliffs were which they cut.
In one, nestled a fishing-town, with its harbor; in another, a low white range of cottages hung on the green hill-side; and in the third, at sea, as it appeared, stood up an ancient castle, huge and rugged.

This last object was of such enormous size that Richard rubbed his eyes like one in a dream.

He had heard of Cornish giants, and certainly here was a habitation fit for the king of them.