ride royally about the sky,' flinging their deep shadows over one and another feature of the landscape, it may appear grand and impressive, even on a bright sunny day during a storm it may become sublime. By moonlight it is always a remarkable sight. Of course every one who visits the back of the island will visit Black Gang: in forming an estimate of it, let its subjection to the skyey influences be borne in mind by those whose test of scenery is its picturemaking capacity. They who can be interested in every object in nature that is unusual, will be sure to be satisfied with this. (Cut, No. 4.) To Walking along this rough beach is rather tiring; and as the tide is rising, it, in parts, becomes rather dangerous. Yet he who is here has sometimes a long way to traverse before he can find a slope which he can climb. We, however, are not so tied down: "Without and or if, We can leap from the shore to the top of the cliff." The villages along the summit have some attractions in point of beauty, and are full of interest to the antiquary. Chale, that nighest Black Gang, is a very pretty place; its scattered houses straggling irregularly for a mile along both sides of the road. The church is a good-sized, a very good-looking, and a very old one. It is now being thoroughly repaired. Chale farm-house is also an old building worth looking at: it has some windows, and other details of a strictly ecclesiastical character; a peculiarity the rambler will notice in a good many of the oldest cottages and small farm-houses about the island: They were evidently built by church masons, and may probably have been the property of some of the religious establishments. Mottestone church is worth turning aside to see: it is of different dates, and has the peculiar picturesqueness that so many of these old churches possess, which have thus grown into their present form by the addition of new limbs in different ages. The old manor-house just by it was the birthplace of Sir John Cheke, the tutor to Edward VI., and one of the revivers of Greek learning in our universities. The little secluded village of Brooke, lying in a hollow betwixt the hills, close by the chine of the same name, and looking upon a rough rock-strewn beach, might also be seen; but it will be well to ascend the Downs, at Mottestone, and proceed along them to Freshwater. The views from these grounds are of vast extent, and are hardly surpassed in the island in any respect. The prospects from Afton Down have always been famous: the view over Freshwater is especially striking. Freshwater Bay stretches round in a splendid curve, the chalk cliffs rising perpendicularly to a height of some five or six hundred feet from the sea, which rages constantly against their base, and crowned by the Needles lighthouse. Beyond is the broad belt of ocean, along which ships of all sizes are constantly passing to and fro. In the extreme distance lies the coast of Dorset, which is visible from Poole Harbour to Portland Bill, while the foreground obtains boldness and strength from the shattered and detached masses of rock that lift their heads far above the waters at Freshwater Gate. Nor, though less grand, is that inland view less pleasing where the Yar wends "its silver-winding way" along the rich valley to which it gives its name, enlarging rapidly from a scarcely traceable rivulet, till, in a mile or two, it has become a goodly estuary. Over the next few miles we need not linger. one who is staying in the neighbourhood, and has time to stroll about, the coast all along here will be found full of interest, and so will the villages above: here we need only mention their character. Chale Bay, in which Black Gang Chine is situated, is a wide and noble-looking bay; the cliffs are bold, precipitous, and deeply cloven; they are of the iron-stained sand and blue marl, crowned by chalk and sand-stone. Huge inasses impend over head; and numerous shattered fragments are strewed along the beach. Both here and in Brixton Bay, which immediately succeeds to Chale, the cliffs are broken by a number of chines. Some six or seven of them occur in as many miles, and all of them have some differences of character. Some, as Whale and Brixton Chines, stretch far inland, without any positive waterfalls; others, as Brook and Chilton, would be thought sufficiently striking elsewhere to be sought after by strangers. The shore here is shallow and rocky, and the sea sets in, in rough weather, with a heavy ground-swell, which nothing can brave with impunity. Along Brixton Bay the cliffs are lower, but the beach is more rocky, and the bay itself no less dangerous than Chale Bay. At Barnes there is a cavern of considerable height, known as Barnes Hole; and at Grange, not far from Grange Chine, is another, called Dutchman's Hole, from a Dutch ship having run into it. Several of the ledges of rock along here have received trivial names from a fancied resemblance to some object, and sometimes from ships to which they have proved fatal. This is the most dangerous part of the island, and many a spot in both these bays is pointed out by the old fishermen, as that where some vessel has been wrecked. The inhabitants of the villages along this iron-bound shore had in olden time a bad reputation as wreckers; in more modern days they were no less notorious as smugglers. Their wrecking and smuggling propensities are both pretty well sub-gathering of cottages, with one or two houses of a dued now. better class on its outskirts. The church is old, but The village of Freshwater is about a mile from the beach, and on the river Yar, where it begins to expand into a broad stream. The village itself is but a little : ALUM BAY, THE NEEDLES, ETC. has been a good deal altered; it is, however, a noticeable | but more lumpish mass rising out of the sea at a little pile in the interior there are two or three curious distance from the Arched Rock. monuments. A bridge crosses the river near the church; and a good-sized mill is worked by the stream. From various points of view these several objects combine in a very picturesque manner, and often find a place in sketch-books. From the village there is a pleasant walk over the fields to Freshwater Gate: it leads by the source of the Yar, which is only a very short distance from the beach. This little river thus rises close by the coast on the opposite side of the island to that in which it enters the sea, and thus nearly insulates the western extremity of the island. In rough weather the ocean waves frequently beat over the narrow barrier, and mingle with the fresh water of this spring. Freshwater Gate lies in a deep narrow valley between the Downs, whence it is thought to owe its name-it serving as a gate, or opening, from the village of Freshwater to the sea. It is a very favourite resort of the tourist, and is in considerable repute as a bathing-place. There are a couple of large hotels here, as well as a few small houses; and there is a wooden box, which styles itself the Royal Museum, and contains a collec- | tion of sea-weeds, and shells, and bits of rock, and fossil remains. To one who should come down this little dale without knowing what he was to expect, the bay would be perfectly startling. On the one hand is a long ridge of chalk cliffs of enormous altitude with huge fragments scattered far into the sea; on the other are lower, though still high cliffs, of sandstone and chalk, with several huge detached masses of strange forms rising boldly out of the waves; and on both sides the heavy billowy sea is beating furiously over the outlying fragments, and against the bases of the cliffs, which it has worn into grim-looking blackmouthed caverns. Both the caverns and the rocks are among the curiosities of the place. What is called Freshwater Cavern may be entered at low tide it reaches to a considerable depth into the chalk cliff. The entrance is by a curious arch, some thirty feet high; the interior is rough and rugged. From the roof large pieces of chalk hang in a way that seems most unstable, and the many blocks that cover the floor show that they are little more stable than they appear. The look-out over the sea from the gloom of the cave is very singular: just outside, the waves are breaking over the rocky beach in spray of dazzling whiteness, while farther off the sea is of the most brilliant emerald. Another of the curiosities is the Arched Rock which stands on the eastern side of the bay. It is a very large mass of chalk, which has been originally part of the cliff, but now stands isolated in the sea, some six hundred feet from it. The same power that destroyed the intervening cliff has beaten a way through this rock, in the shape of a rude gothic arch; the surface of the rock is strangely worn and shattered: it has altogether a curious appearance, which is consider ably increased if the sea-fowl be disturbed that roost about its ledges in vast numbers. There is another At Freshwater you mount the cliffs, and continue along their summit to the Needles lighthouse. The walk is a most exhilarating one. The view across the sea is glorious, and the balmy breezes come over the wide waters with that delightful freshness which is never felt but in wandering along the lofty hills that rise at once from the broad ocean. The Downs are open, and only employed for grazing sheep; you may therefore make your own path over them: the lighthouse is a sufficient landmark. The cliffs here rise precipitously from the sea; and they are the highest chalk cliffs in the kingdom. At High Down they attain an altitude of above six hundred feet. The rambler may here perceive "How fearful And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low." Shakspere's lines have been often applied to these cliffs, and it is almost impossible to look over them without their recurring to the memory. Almost every word is applicable here; there is something almost of fascination in looking down upon the murmuring surge that is hardly heard, and watching the countless sea-birds that in ceaseless noisy motion "wing the midway air.” But the stranger should not approach the brink of these cliffs heedlessly: not only is there danger "lest the brain turn," and he "topple down headlong," but the sudden gusts of wind that are almost constantly happening, together with the slippery footing and the friable nature of the chalk, renders it very needful to be careful. Many instances have occurred of loss of life even among those daily used to be about the cliffs. The "dreadful trade" of gathering samphire is still practised here. Samphire grows abundantly on these cliffs, and is in common use as a pickle among the poorer classes. But the main inducement to practise the perilous craft, is the profit arising from the sale of the eggs and feathers of the various sea-birds which build in amazing numbers on the ledges and in the crevices of the cliffs. In order to get at these eggs the men fasten a rope to an iron bar which they have driven firmly into the ground, and then placing themselves on a rude seat formed of two pieces of wood placed across, they lower themselves by means of a second rope down the face of the precipice. The practice is almost as dangerous as it appears to be: many a bold man has lost his life in pursuing it. Only last May a young man, named Lane, the son of a boatman in Alum Bay, and esteemed one of the skilfullest of the cliffmen, perished thus: he had gone out egg-gathering, and not returning all night his father and brother went in the morning to search for him-and they found his crushed corpse lying at the foot of one of the highest cliffs. He had his rope hanging over, but it seemed as though, trusting to his skill in climbing, he had disengaged himself from it, and gone along one of the ledges "half-way down," the more readily to come at the nests. The lighthouse stands on the brow of the hill, immediately above the Needles, to give notice of whose presence it is placed there. It is one of the show-places of the island: the prospect from it is, as will be imagined, of wide extent; and the lightmen have a good telescope, the use of which they proffer to the visitor. The inside of the lighthouse is worth seeing for the neat arrangements of the lights, and the perfect order and cleanliness in which everything is kept. It is a low building, but very substantial, as is indeed necessary, for the tremendous force of the wind just on this narrow tongue of land is hardly conceivable. It is said that the lighthouse people often dare not venture out of doors for days together. A somewhat lower point of land, a little eastward of the lighthouse, is the best place for seeing the Needles from the land: but it is from the water they are seen to most advantage. A boat may be hired at Alum Bay, the path to which from the lighthouse will be pointed out by the keeper; and a row or sail round to Freshwater Gate will afford a series of views of a far more remarkable kind than any others in the Isle of Wight-and that are as fine of their kind as any in England. Alum Bay itself will not be readily forgotten. You reach the shore by a deep and ragged ravine, which | prevents you from seeing anything of the bay till you find yourself on the beach in the centre of it. On looking around, you perceive that the two sides of the bay present the most strange and striking contrast to each other: on one side the vast cliffs are of chalk of the purest whiteness; on the other they are of sand and clay of the most varied and brilliant colours. But Alum Bay is best seen from a boat, and as so seen Sir Henry Englefield has described the appearance of the opposite sides of the bay with exceeding truth and beauty. He says, "The chalk forms an unbroken face, everywhere nearly perpendicular, and, in some parts, formidably projecting; and the tenderest stains of ochreous yellow, and greenish moist vegetation, vary without breaking its sublime uniformity. This vast wall extends more than a quarter of a mile, and is hardly less than 400 feet in height; its termination is a thin edge, not perpendicular, but of a bold broken outline; and the wedge-like Needle rocks, arising out of the blue waters, seem to continue the cliff beyond its present boundary, and give an awful impression of the stormy ages which have gradually devoured its enormous mass. The chalk rising from the sea nearly perpendicular, being totally in shadow, while opposed to the blue sky above, and the pellucid green of the sea at its foot, it has a sort of aërial tint, as if it were semitransparent; while here and there a projecting point of the edge of the cliff, catching the sunshine, is of a whiteness so transplendent that it seems to shine by its own native white. "The magical repose of this side of the bay is wonderfully contrasted by the torn forms and vivid colouring of the clay cliffs on the opposite side. These do not present rounded headlands, covered with turf and shrubs, as in some other parts of the coast, but offer a series of points which are often quite sharp and spiry. Deep rugged chasms divide the strata in many places, and not a vestige of vegetation appears in any part. The tints of the cliff are so bright and so varied, that they have not the appearance of anything natural. Deep purplish red, dusky blue, bright ochreous yellow, gray and black, succeed one another as sharply defined as the stripes in silk." As Sir Henry presently observes, the colours appear much brighter after rain : but the cliffs are liable to continual slips, generally of only a small slice, as it were, of the surface, when the freshly-exposed part is singularly brilliant, and the mingling of colours in the debris at the base is very curious. These various coloured sands are collected by the cottagers' children, and are arranged fancifully in phials, or made into little ornamental articles, and sold to visitors. The white sand is of more importance, it being, on account of its purity, in considerable request among the manufacturers of the finer kinds of glass and china. The late Mr. Wedgwood fancied that the coloured clays would be found equally serviceable for some kinds of porcelain, and he caused pits to be opened, but they did not bear the process of firing well. The visitor will notice several door-like openings in the cliffs, and be curious to know their use. They are the entrances to some shafts that have recently been commenced here, in the expectation of finding coal. The works are placed under the management of a person from one of the northern coal districts, who is said to be quite sanguine as to the result. Coal has already been found, which, though not fit for fuel, resembles the imperfect coal which is met with on opening a vein. There are, in fact, several beds of an imperfectly carbonized wood here,—and the same occur at the opposite end of the formation at Whitecliff Bay; but it is not the coal which is useful for fuel, nor is there any chance whatever of real coal being found. These beds are what geologists term lignite, which occurs in several of the upper formations, while serviceable coal is only found in that group of strata which is known as the carboniferous. Many such experiments have been made, and always without success, in other places; as for example in a similar geological formation at Bexhill, in Sussex, where a large sum of money was expended; of course fruitlessly. As soon as the stranger has satisfied himself with looking at these extraordinary cliffs,—and no engraving he may have seen of the bay will have prepared him for its strange appearance,―he will direct his attention to the Needles, which now rise into importance before him. The Needles consist of three vast masses of chalk, that originally formed part of the sharp point of land in which the western end of the island terminates, but now stand far out in the sea detached from it and from each other. There are also two or three other blocks, but they are not ordinarily observable. The Needles resemble anything rather than the little implement whose name they bear: from some points they appear like a huge fortress, standing there to guard the island; from the sea they exactly resemble a fleet under full sail. But there was formerly another rock, -Lot's Wife, the sailors called it,-which stood out alone, rising from the waves like a spire to a height of a hundred-and-twenty feet, which is said to have given the name to the group ;-it fell in 1764. Their appearance from a boat is very striking. The sea rolls in here with great impetuosity, and the rocks are in constant course of disintegration: from being exposed on all sides the waves have full play upon them; the entire surface is deeply serrated, and the ledges and sharp spiry pinnacles, as well as the fragments that lie about the hollowed bases or hang ready to fall, proclaim the change that is going surely forwards. In fine weather the most timid may sail, or be rowed, between the Needles when there is a little wind abroad it seems rather fearful to those not used to the water; but the visitor may always trust to the boatmen, (whether of Freshwater Gate, Alum Bay, or Yarmouth,) who will not advise the excursion to be made if there is any real danger. They who are not afraid of a roughish sea, nor mind a little spray or a whiff of salt water, will not need to be told that the run round this wild point in a bit of a breeze is a rare treat. swell the stranger should land on the little strip of beach near the middle of the bay: if he does, he should go forward to the extremity of the great arch, looking out from which he will be amazed by the grand aspect of the bay; the surrounding rocks and the vast overhanging arch assume almost a terrible majesty, especially if a stormy sky is gathering its forces over the distant horizon. (Cut, No. 5.) In a smooth sea the boat can run into the cavern, and it may be worth while to go into it, or one of the seven or eight others that occur between Scratchell's Bay and Freshwater Gate. The boatmen from Alum Bay do not proceed beyond Scratchell's Bay unless they are ordered; if their advice be asked, they generally suggest that it is not worth while; the best is already seen, or something of the sort: but the visitor should go on to Freshwater. The cliff's between Scratchell's Bay and Freshwater are those lofty ones we spoke of above as being the highest chalk cliffs in the country. They rise, as we said, precipitously from the sea some six hundred feet. Like those we have passed the strata is nearly vertical, the dazzling white chalk being banded by lines of black flint. The base of this enormous wall is all along worn into caverns, and arches, and columns, in a fantastic manner; and the ledges and crevices are crowded with sea-fowl: this is indeed their chief haunt, and it is worth while to carry a gun,-a bugle will do as well if the tourist likes not villanous gunpowder,-to see what prodigious flocks start, when the report is heard, from every side, though not a feather was discoverable by an unpractised eye. It is over this tremendous precipice that the cliffmen lower themselves when searching for the birds' eggs. Scratchell's Bay, as the cove is called in which you find yourself on passing the Needles, is one of the most magnificent things in the island, and one which you must travel many miles to match. Precipitous and beetling rocks of from four or five hundred feet in height circle the little bay, which is bounded at one extremity by the rugged Needles and at the other by a stern wave-worn promontory, called Sun Corner. The rocks are of chalk, divided into nearly perpendicular strata by bands of flint nodules. Towards the eastern end of The tourist may land at Freshwater Gate, or return the bay the cliff is hollowed into a circular arch, per- to Alum Bay; at either there is a good hotel, which haps two hundred feet high; and further still the after such a sail he will be prepared to appreciate. waves have wrought a low gloomy cavern which pene- The Needles Hotel, at Alum Bay, is a favourite one, trates far into the cliff, and the neighbouring rocks and very convenient for examining the scenery of this have been pierced and torn in a most strange fashion end of the island. And if, as is quite likely, he be by the angry elements. If there is not a heavy ground-weather-bound there, the tourist may while away an idle hour in turning over the leaves of the Album, and reading how "Miss Gibbins and her mamma much approved of the scenery of Alum Bay," or how Alderman S. "thought the dinner very good-particularly the mutton;" or if the day be very long and very wet, he may even reach the middle of the interminable verses which a serjeant learned in the law spent a rainy week here in inditing. YARMOUTH. But if he be of an economic turn, and do not mind walking an additional mile or two, he will find cheaper and very respectable inns at Yarmouth-a place at which tourists seldom stay, but which is not an inconvenient centre for exploring all this western end of the island from. There are a couple of inns at Yarmouth: the principal-a noticeable old high-roofed red-brick edifice-was once the mansion of the Governor of the island, and has had a King as its guest. It was built by Admiral Sir R. Holmes, who entertained Charles II. here, in 1671. Now in its plebeian condition, it is known as the 'George,' and has a very creditable fame. The other inn, 'the Bugle,' is also a respectable one; and the host, Master Butler, being an excellent shot, very knowing in birds, and filling up his leisure hours in stuffing the best specimens his gun brings down, his guests may generally see such a collection of the various birds that frequent the island-whether common, rare, or rarest-as they will probably not find anywhere else. Butler is well known to naturalists and collectors of sea-fowl; and many a bird of his shooting and preserving has found a perch in foreign as well as home museums. Yarmouth itself is but a poor place. Although a corporate town, with its mayor and burgesses, and all municipal addenda,-and one that used to send two representatives to the Imperial Parliament; and though it has a town-hall and market-place, a steam-boat pier, a church, and two or three chapels, it yet has only a single shop of any size or pretension: but that is sufficientit being one of the 'general' order only met with in country towns, wherein everything is kept, from drugs and grocery, down to door-mats and letter-paper; and everything prepared, from physicians' prescriptions to British wines. Half an hour will suffice to examine all that the town has to show. The church is old, but has been repaired and modernised; the exterior may be called ugly, and the interior is anything but handsome. The town-hall is nought. The 'castle' is one of the 'blockhouses' built by Henry VIII., and of the plainest kind. But the town is pleasantly situated: it stands at the mouth of the Yar, which forms a convenient harbour for small vessels; while there is excellent anchorage for those of larger size in the Solent. From the opposite side of the Yar-to which there is a ferry-the town, lying along the side of the broad estuary, with the Solent before and beyond it, seems as though built on a tongue of land, which projects into the sea, and has a very picturesque air. (Cut, No. 6.) As we spoke of some of its conveniences as a centre for the hardy tourist, we may add to these that the watermen are skilful, and moderate in their charges, which cannot always be said of the island watermen; and there are good sailing as well as row-boats, for a run along the coast. Moreover there are steamers plying daily to Lymington and Gosport, which also call at Cowes and Ryde. The neighbourhood around Yarmouth is pretty, but not such as to call for further notice here. Before however we proceed onwards, we must turn back a little way, in order to glance at the coast be |