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 aerial 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."

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 were commenced two or three years ago, in the vain expectation of finding coal. 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 120 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 which lie about the hollowed bases or hang ready to fall, proclaim the change that is going surely forward. 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.

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 to 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 bay the cliff is hollowed into a circular arch, perhaps two hundred feet high; and further still the waves have wrought a low gloomy cavern which penetrates far into the cliff, and the neighbouring rocks have been pierced and torn in a most strange fashion by the angry elements. If there is not a heavy ground-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.

The cliffs 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 are 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 seafowl: 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.

The tourist may land at Freshwater Gate, or return to Alum Bay; at either there is a good hotel, which after such a sail he will be prepared to appreciate. The Needles Hotel, at Alum Bay, is a favourite one, and very convenient for examining the scenery of this end of the island. And if, as is quite likely, he be 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."

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 sufficient-it 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 shew. 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. 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 between Alum Bay and Yarmouth. After crossing the ferry we pass Scone Point, and soon reach Cliff End, where the island approaches nighest to the mainland; the distance from Cliff End to Hurst Castle, which stands on the shingle bank known as Hurst Point, being only three-quarters of a mile. Geologists have little doubt that the Isle of Wight was once united to the mainland; and there has always been a tradition among the islanders to the same effect. Etymologists, too, fancy they perceive confirmation of it in the name of the strait which divides the island from the coast of Hampshire-Solent (which they remind us Bede wrote Solvente), pointing plainly to the manner in which it has eaten away the channel between the coasts. Colwell Bay, and Totland Bay, which we come to in succession, both deserve to be visited. Their banks are bold for some way from the beach, and are tossed about as though by an earthquake. The roughness is doubtless the effect of a long series of land-slips. Headon Hill, the noble headland which divides Totland Bay from Alum Bay, is one of the objects for which the geologist visits the Isle of Wight -it affording a good type of the vertical strata of chalk which we have already mentioned more than once: and we ought perhaps to remind the reader that we here quit the chalk and sandstone cliffs along which we have hitherto travelled. The chalk extends in a range of lofty Downs, so as to form a sort of spine, or long axis, to the island, and terminates at the opposite extremities in the steep Culver and Needles Cliffs. This elevated ridge rises to its greatest height towards the centre of the island, and, as we have seen, forms the cliffs along its southern side. The northern side of the island is of the tertiary formation, and nowhere rises into hills of any great height; the northern coast is for the most part low and shelving.

COWES.--Beyond Yarmouth the stranger will not care to pursue the coast, which has nothing very characteristic about it, merely consisting for the greater part of the way of a sandy beach, with low sandy banks beyond. The best plan will be to take the steamer at once to Cowes. The only town that occurs near the coast between Yarmouth and Cowes is Newtown, which lies some distance up the river of the same name. It was once a place of some importance; but is now quite decayed; and though it still retains its corporate privileges, has altogether not a hundred inhabitants, and only about five-and-twenty mean houses and the ruins of a church. Till the passing of the Parliamentary Reform Bill, it returned two members to the House of Commons. Along the banks of the river there are some salterns, but they are not much used.

The river allows vessels of 500 tons burden to reach the town, but they do not ascend it. Newtown is rather prettily situated, and is worth going to see, if within a mile or two of it.

Cowes lies along both sides of the estuary of the Medina; that part of it which is on the west bank being called West Cowes, while that on the opposite side is called East Cowes: they are connected by a ferry. West Cowes is the principal town, the other being little more than an adjunct to it, though it contains the Custom-house. The appearance of Cowes from the Solent is very fine. The mouth of the Medina is half a mile across, but it contracts rapidly, so that the town seems to lie round a goodsized harbour; and West Cowes being built on a steep hill, whose summit is crowned by a number of gentlemen's villas, it assumes a consequence far beyond its due. To add to its dignity, too, there are generally numerous vessels lying along the banks, and not a few of the handsome craft belonging to the Royal Yacht Squadron moored off the mouth of the river; with perhaps one or more ships of war in the Solent.

Cowes has a good deal of traffic; it being the port of the island, and the point of communication with the mainland by way of Southampton. It carries on also a large internal trade; and it is famous for its ship-building: the craft which are constructed here being celebrated for good sailing-those built for the Royal Yacht Squadron indeed have few rivals. West Cowes, notwithstanding its appearance from the river, is a most irregular ungainly-looking place when you are inside it. The narrow streets run crookedly and awkwardly along the hill side, and there is no public building to engage the attention. Just outside the town there is an old church, and in the other direction there is a new one-but neither is very remarkable. Along the river, and on the parade, there are some buildings that the stranger will look at; but they are not eminent for any architectural merits. One of these is the castle; a rather unformidable-looking building despite the battery in front of it. Another is the club-house of the Royal Yacht Squadron. To this body Cowes owes a fair share of its prosperity: the influx of summer residents must be very materially increased by the members of the Squadron and their connexions; and the annual sailing-match brings many strangers; while the presence of so many vessels, and the constant trials of skill that take place, add to the general attraction of the town, by adding so much to its cheerfulness. The number of large hotels on both sides of the river speaks aloud for the demands for temporary accommodation. On the hill above West Cowes, and in the neighbourhood around, there are a great many gentlemen's seats, villas, and cottages, and some of them are of rather a superior character: the walks, too, around West Cowes are very pleasing. East Cowes is an agreeable little place; about it there are many very good private residences, but it has no very distinguishing features. What is most commonly pointed out as its lion is East Cowes Castle,-a so-called Gothic mansion which Nash, the architect of Buckingham Palace, built for himself, in a commanding position on the brow of the hill, just above the village. It looks best at a distance-but the view from it is very fine. East Cowes is much in repute as a quiet watering-place; indeed both West and East Cowes are very lively agreeable

summer resorts.

From Cowes, steamers are in frequent communication with Ryde; and perhaps the ordinary tourist will be content with seeing as much of the coast between these places as he can from the deck of one of them. Indeed, if he wishes to see more of it, he can only do so from the roads some way inland-and they are not particularly tempting. But we must look a little more closely at one or two spots. On rounding the point, the lofty towers and long battlemented front of Norris Castle will catch the attention. From the Solent it is a striking object-appearing like some grim relic of ruder times;

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but it is in reality a modern mansion, having been erected by Wyattville for Sir Henry Seymour. It commands one of the finest views of the Solent and the opposite shore, of any spot in the island. Somewhat farther we see Osborne, the seat of Her Majesty, which shows very well from the sea, and we should fancy has a nobler view over the strait, as it has in every other direction, than Norris. We shall visit Osborne from Newport. The coast along rises into gentle well-wooded uplands, and wears a very cheerful air. At King's Quay we pass a river that enters the sea between banks covered with foliage to the edge of the water. A little further is Fishbourne Creek, the estuary of the Wootton river-in parts one of the most beautiful rivers in the island. The scenery about Wootton Bridge is celebrated, but the river is finer towards the sea-we mean of course at high water, for these tidal streams are little better than a mud-swamp when the tide is out.

At Quarr Abbey we might, had we time, stay a while: there are some remains of a Cistercian monastery, &c., with magnificent spreading elms about them, as old almost as the building. Binstead is a pretty secluded village of genteel residences, with a new church, which, though small, is of unusual gracefulness. Binstead is about a mile from Ryde.

NEWPORT.-We have thus made the circuit of this island; it now remains for us to visit Newport, its capital; and from thence we may hastily glance over one or two places in the interior.

Newport stands nearly in the centre of the island, on a spot apparently marked out by Nature for the site of the miniature capital. It is built on a gentle slope rising from the west bank of the Medina, which is navigable for vessels of considerable burden up to the town; and the nature of the surrounding hills allows of easy lines of communication to radiate from it to every part of the island. The town itself is neat, clean, cheerful-looking, and apparently flourishing. It contains about 5000 inhabitants, is a corporate borough, and returns two members to the House of Commons, being the only place in the island that was permitted by the Reform Bill to retain Parliamentary representatives. The streets are well paved and lighted, and filled with good well-stored shops. The public buildings are mostly modern; the townhall, and one or two other of the largest and showiest, were erected some thirty or forty years ago, from the designs of Nash, and are about on a level with what would be expected from the specimens of his genius which the metropolis possesses. The old church is very large, but plain and low, and far from pleasing in its external appearance, while the interior is blocked up and darkened by huge pews and galleries, and every kind of ungainly obstruction, till it would require a laborious search to discover any beauties there, if any there be. Among the monuments one or two are noticeable. There are a couple of new churches in the town; and Dissenting chapels abound. There is a literary society in Newport, which has one of the best buildings in the place. There is also a factory, wherein some hundred hands are employed in making the Isle of Wight lace, so much admired by ladies. There is, too, a theatre for the delectation of the town's-people, but it does not fill; and just by it there is a jail, of which no such complaint is heard. North of the town are extensive barracks; and not far from them is a House of Industry, or in other words a Union workhouse, for the poor of the island. With its grounds, which are laid out in fields and cultivated by the inmates, it occupies an area of eighty acres, and it has accommodation (happily never required) for 1000 persons. The Reformatory for juvenile offenders, or, as it is more commonly called, Parkhurst Prison, is also in the same neighbourhood,-all these three buildings being within the precincts of Parkhurst Forest.

Newport is not much dependent on summer visitors, who generally merely pass