The first thing that a stranger, on landing, seeks, is rest and quietude;
for which purpose, he generally locates himself at one or other of the
hotels. Ordering dinner, he prepares an appetite by a walk in and about the
town, which he will find to be a quiet, though thriving place, with good
handsome shops. He may be arrested by the town church, which is as handsome
a structure as any in England; and in many of its portions displays some
cunning specimens of the ancient chisel. Should he be thinking of becoming
a resident, he may probably stroll into the shambles, the fruit and poultry
markets, and from thence to that splendid area the fish-market, where
doubtless, if the slabs are in the same condition as in the earlier part of
the morning, he will exclaim: "Well, this beats any thing of the kind I
have ever seen!" On deliberating on the building and its vast supply, he
will put us down as a fish-eating people, unless by enquiry he finds that
vast quantities are exported. Having communed within himself on the various
markets, he will not be a little amused with the fantastic head-dresses of
the Norman women.
Proceeding through the town, he may visit the Grange, Rohais and St
Andrew's roads, where he will find handsome, uniform buildings, much after
the style of his own country; and having as it were by necessity passed the
College, he will stop short to give it an extra consideration best known to
himself. By the bye, he may fall in with the New Ground or parade, with
which he can scarce fail to be pleased, as it is the admiration of every
one.
Having procured a tolerable appetite, he will, in all probability, sit down
to a dinner of John dorey or turbot, which, with the addition of a piece of
roast beef as good as that of old England, and a good supply of delicious
vegetables and fruit, may be a further proof of the qualities of Guernsey.
After dinner being generally considered an interlude for good feelings and
a kindly impression, the visitor no doubt will be anxious to chat with his
neighbour on the economy of living in Guernsey and so on, or in his absence
may skim the pages of a Guide or Almanack. Such being the case, he retires
to bed to dream of the morrow's excursion, which, in all probability, will
be towards the outskirts of the town; in which case, should he select the
Rohais, he had better drop into Luff's nursery, as he will find in it much
to interest the florist and the horticulturist. Taking a circuitous bend to
the left through the fields adjoining Mr Martin's, he will fall in with
Havilland Hall, the present residence of the Governor, which from over the
hill has a fine appearance, and is seen to its best advantage. It is
remarkable for its altitude, and an entrance of four lofty Doric columns,
which but for a gentle swell in the middle, would be somewhat grand. The
rest can scarce fail to be admired, as it consists of a deep ravine,
babbling brooks, hanging woods, sheltered vale and cultivated farm.
Leaving the secluded quietude of Havilland Hall, you again fall in with one
or the other of the public roads in the suburbs, wherein may be marked the
growing importance of the town in the newly cut roads, and the handsome
houses on either side. From the English tourist's knowledge of affairs so
far, methinks I hear him exclaim: "What, from housekeeping, rent, and taxes
in England, I am persuaded I can live here for about one half of my income.
Indeed I can save one fourth owing to the entire absence of duty on
excisable articles in England; not only can I live cheaper, but with much
comfort and satisfaction to my wife and family. Here are no taxes,
toll-bars, or any other kind of imposition, consequently can keep my horse
and carriage at an average rate of 20l. per annum."
Keeping on he will arrive at Fort George, which is an elevation from whence
he can see many objects of attraction, such as Doyle's Monument, on the
right, and the small adjacent isles of Sark, Herm, and Jethou in the
distance; and with a telescope, if the day is clear, the houses and trees
of St Peter's, in Jersey, and not unfrequently a clear out-line of the
coast of France over the main. In other positions he will also make a
tolerable discovery of the craggy line of coast scenery from the
precipitous crags and ravines of Fermain Bay, to the little point of
Jerbourgh. Amongst some of these are pretty little retreats begirt with
trees and underwood, which from their neatness may be pictured into the
abodes of peace and contentment. Fort George is a brick building, and is
surrounded by a deep trench over which is a draw-bridge at the entrance.
The interior is well supplied with ammunition, and the ramparts are
surmounted with plenty of guns which are kept in excellent repair. The
adjoining grounds are spacious and open, part of which is reserved for an
exercising arena to the garrison; the remainder is let for grazing and
general cultivation.
Having taken an excursory glance of the town and its suburbs, the visitor
will probably return home, satisfied that if what he has already seen is
sufficient to demand his attention, the country scenery will, in a greater
or lesser degree the same. Devoting the afternoon to reading and
conversation, he will find in the "Directory" all necessary information for
making a tour of the island, which, together with the aid of the "Guide,"
will occasionally introduce him to the chief places worthy of notice,
particularly antique ruins, Druids' altars, pools and churches, which
latter, in a measure, have been made station posts. The rich fertile
plains, the upland woods, and the indented and irregular coast, will also
come in for their full share of observation; indeed every thing that may be
found to interest the agriculturist, horticulturist, artist, botanist, and
tourist, will be carefully noticed, and if possible brought within the
range of his own natural observation. Should he be only desirous of an
out-line or broad cast view of the island, he had better take a horse, as
he can be satisfied in a few hours. However, presuming the contrary, he
will arise invigorated from rest and change of air to a substantial
breakfast, when tapping his egg, he will propound over the coffee-pot the
shortest and most rural cut to St Sampson.