From the Falm or road skirting the edge of the precipice from the head
of the stairs to Government House, one of the loveliest views in all the
world lies before our eyes. Immediately beneath are the winding stairs,
with their constant stream of broad-shouldered seamen, or coquettish
girls, or brown boys, passing up and down, while at each resting-place
some group is sitting on the green-red-white seats gossiping over the
day's business. Trees and plants nestle in the stair corners, and almost
conceal the roadway at the foot.
Lifting one's eyes away from the little town, the white pier sprawls on
the, sea, and countless boats at anchor spot with darkness the shining
water. Farther away, the Duene lies like a bar of silver across the view,
ribbed with emerald where the waves roll in over white sand; and all
around it, as far as the eye can reach, white sails gleam in the light,
until repose is found on the horizon where sea and sky meet in a vapory
haze. At night the Falm is a favorite resort of the men whose houses are
on the Oberland. With arms resting on the broad wall, they look down on
the twinkling lights of the houses far beneath, listen to the laughter
or song which float up from the small tables outside the cafe, or watch
the specks of light on the dark gleam of the North Sea.
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