In autumn the sea and landscapes of the Isle of Wight, towards evening and in very still weather, seem to belong to some enchanted country. The hills of the Island, seen from the water, grow utterly unsubstantial then. They turn dove-coloured, and so soft and light in their appearance that they might, to a stranger to the place, pass for clouds on the horizon. The sea, with the mild sun on it, is emerald; and the band of colour that adjoins it to the north, given by the wooded shores of Hamble and Southampton Water, is a splendid purple. At other times, on an autumn evening like this, but with some imperceptible difference in the atmosphere, the faint outlines of hills far beyond Portsmouth and its land forts, have the peculiar appearance of being partly covered with a thin coating of stained snow. Every shade of blue and green touches these waters between mainland and island in early autumn as in summer, often changing with a changing sky from minute to minute.... Not all the illusions of this sea are kept for the hush of sundown and the shade of coming night. The sea blooms of the Solent, films and hazes, at all seasons glorify and mystify every ship they touch, clumsy coal barge, harbour-dredger, graceful racing yacht. More than half-way on our path starts up Puckpool or Spring Vale, a row of seaside lodgings nestling under the protection of a fort that makes a link in Portsmouth’s fortified _enceinte_. Here the shallow shore spreads at low water a wide stretch of sand, so firm that horses as well as children can disport themselves upon it; and it seems as if the nearest fort could almost be reached on wheels. The path holds on by a strip of meadowland; and thus we come to Seaview, that has overlaid the old name of Nettlestone Point.