ing again to Culver cliff and the Freshwater cliffs, where they pass the night. The Culver is also much frequented by auks, and other birds that love to nestle in the holes and crannies of precipices. In former times it was famous for a breed of hawks much used in the sport of hawking, and of so valuable a kind, that, in 1564, Queen Elizabeth issued her warrant to Richard Worsley, esq., captain of the island, to make diligent search after some that had been stolen, as also "for the persons faultie of this stealth and presumptuous attempt."

66

The grand scenery of these coasts terminates at Culver cliff. Doubling the eastern extremity of the island, called the Foreland, and then coming to Bembridge point, the tourist will find himself at the narrow mouth of Brading haven, which is a shallow arm of the sea at high water, but a large and ugly puddle, with very little water in it, when the tide is out. Between eight hundred and nine hundred acres of marshy land are overflown at every tide and rendered useless. My adventurous and noble countryman, Sir Hugh Middleton," says Pennant, "in the time of James I., in concert with Sir Bevis Thelwal, of the house of Bathavern, in Denbighshire, and page of the king's bedchamber, employed a number of Dutchmen to recover it from the sea by embankments. Seven thousand pounds were expended in the work, but partly by the badness of the soil, which proved a barren sand-partly by the choking of the drains for the fresh water, by the weeds and mud brought by the sea --but chiefly by a furious tide which made a breach in the bank-they were obliged to desist, and put a stop to their expensive project."

CHAPTER VII.

THE ISLE OF PORTLAND.

OLD writers affirm that Portland was once separated from the coast of Dorsetshire, and that it was, therefore, really an island; but now it is joined by a ridge, which some have likened to a string. It is called the Chesil bank (see engraving), and an extraordinary bank it is. Its surface, or upper portion, is composed of rounded, loose pebbles, resting on hard, blue clay. From the northern extremity of the Isle of Portland it runs along the coast of Dorsetshire, separated from it by a narrow channel or arm of the sea, to near Abbotsbury, ten miles from Portland; it then joins the land, and forms the outline of the Dorset coast, from Abbotsbury to near Bridport, a distance of about six miles. Chesil bank is in some places about a quarter of a mile broad, but its general breadth is much less. Mr. Smeaton, the engineer of Eddystone lighthouse, thought it had been formed at a comparatively recent period: "but it is very difficult to account satisfactorily either for its first formation or its continued existence. There is a similar and still more extensive ridge, bounding the Frische Haf, on the coast of Prussia."

The bay between Weymouth and the isle is called Portland road, and this bay, in our cut, is represented as lying between Sandsfoot castle and Portland. Sandsfoot castle (old spelling, Sandes Foote) was built by Henry VIII. It is now, as our cut represents it, a ruin. The usual approach from Weymouth to Portland is by Sandsfoot castle and Smallmouth sands, Smallmouth being the name of the mouth of the narrow channel between the coast of Dorset and the Chesil bank. A walk of a mile on the Smallmouth sands conducts the tourist to a ferry, where he is rowed across the "Fleet" to the Chesil bank. Here he may remark the nature of this curious ridge. The pebbles by which it is covered to the depth of four, five, and six feet, are chiefly of a white, calcareous spar (these are called Portland pebbles), but partly of quartz, chert, jasper, &c., so loose that a horse's legs sink almost knee-deep at every step. The bank slopes on the one side toward the open sea, and on the other toward the narrow inlet of the Fleet; it rises gradually toward Portland, being there composed of pebbles as large as swans' eggs; but in its course along the Dorset coast the stones gradually diminish in size; at Abbotsbury they are about the size of horse-beans, and more westward they degenerate into mere sand. The

smugglers, who used to land at night, were thus furnished with a natural guage, by which they could tell where they were, whether near to Portland, or on the coast. The pebbly covering is continually shifting; a northeast wind sometimes clears away the pebbles in parts, leaving the blue clay exposed, but the bare spaces are soon covered again by the heavy sea which the southwest wind drives against the bank. At the northwest extremity of the Chesil bank there was once a "swannery," consisting of several thousand swans; wild swans still build in the neighboring swamps, and the Fleet is much frequented by different kinds of water-fowl.

As one approaches the end of the Chesil bank, he distinguishes a line of houses disposed along the slope of the rock; this is the village of Fortune's Well.

The Isle of Portland is about four miles long, and in the widest part, nearly one and a half broad. It is a bed or rock of freestone. The highest point in the island is 458 feet above the level of the sea; the cliffs on the western side are very lofty, but those at the Bill of Portland are not more than twenty or thirty feet high. There is sufficient depth of vegetable soil to render the island tolerably productive, but not sufficiently so for the entire sustenance of the inhabitants, who get much of their provisions from Weymouth. Water is somewhat scarce; there is no stream in the island, and the necessary supply is obtained from springs and wells, which are not numerous, but in which, however, the water is copious and good. The whole island is included in one parish, which contained, in 1831, a population of 2,670.

The road from Fortune's Well to the western cliff is very steep, and commands fine views of the Chesil bank, and the low but picturesque shores of western Dorsetshire; and from the top, on a clear day, Torbay in Devonshire may be distinguished. Having attained the summit, the road runs to the right, on the extreme edge of the cliffs, from which a number of smaller roads, recurring at every hundred yards, run between lofty gullies in the face of the rocks, which rise about twenty feet above the main road. These "by-paths" lead to the quarries. If the visiter take any one of them, it will lead him through a series of well-stacked piles of sandstone, into a stone-pit of irregular form, measuring, perhaps, 200 feet or more each way, and shut in by solid walls of variously stratified stone, to the height of about sixty feet. The scene is now a beautiful one: blocks of stone as large as goodsized rooms lie tumbled about in the most picturesque confusion-white intermingled with shades of yellow, gray, and red; and enormous orange-colored stalactites, called by the quarrymen "congealed water," hang from the projecting rocks. Stains, the slow result of various decaying mosses and linchens steeped in the little rills, which are strongly impregnated with iron, give their mellowing hues to the picture. Before proceeding to explain the processes used in getting the stone, it will be necessary first to describe the structure of the crust, or superficial strata of the island. A visiter would accomplish this at once by a glance at any clean-faced cliff in his neighborhood, but in the absence of occular demonstration, the following description, and the cut in the next page, will very clearly exhibit its constitution :— First occurs the surface-soil, seven feet deep; second, three layers of grit, called "burr-stone, cap, and skull-cap," or collectively, the "turf-layer," sixteen feet; third, roach-stone, nine feet; which immediately covers the good Portland stone of commerce, in a compact, horizontal bed of about eight feet in depth. Beneath it follow various beds of clay, marl, flint, &c. Here, then, we have a superincumbent mass of earth and stone, 32 feet in depth, which must all be removed before a single foot of the good stone it covers can be procured-a hard task, and one which is rendered still more so by the fact, that till this is done the workmen are not entitled to any remuneration. In a quarry of ordinary size, the labors of three years are required to accomplish the task. First, the layers of surface-soil and rubbish are dug, and carried in strong iron-bound barrows, to be thrown over the fallow-fields in the neighborhood. Next, the "turf-layer" is raised, but the obstinacy of its structure and its weight, make it a work of serious labor. The strata of which it is composed sometimes present great solidity, and at other times are naturally split in large masses; in both cases they have to be reduced to small lumps, and lifted into carts. The breakage is done by driving wedges, and other similar contrivances; and the lifting by a peculiarly-formed shovel, whose long handle is laid along the thigh, and the load raised by a sudden jerk, the combined action of the arm and knee, and thrown into a cart, to which seven or more horses are attached, and by whom it is carried, either to be thrown over the cliffs into the sea, or piled up in large mounds, at a distance.