the sea. On the one side the descent is perpendicular, on the other precipitous; but though Mr. Inglis says that a person would be more rash than bold in attempting a descent, with a little careful dexterity, one can scramble up and down. The bridge or neck of rock is, of course, dangerous in windy weather, there being no fence or protection on either side. Mr. Inglis tells a droll story about an inhabitant of Little Serk, who was a frequent visiter of Great Serk, and often prolonged his visit at the public house. But being cautious in his cups, he always made an experiment with himself before he ventured across the narrow bridge. A piece of artillery had been posted near the spot during the war, and the tippler would try himself by walking on the cannon from end to end two or three times. If he accomplished this without slipping, he judged himself steady enough to cross to Little Serk; but if otherwise, then he lay down in the heath and indulged himself with a nap. On awaking he renewed the experiment, and if then steady enough, he jogged homeward.

Altogether, Serk is a very remarkable place, with its caverns, its steep and manycolored rocks, its fruitful and romantic valleys and dells, its "creux terrible," a pit in the rock, into which the sea enters by a cavern below, and "from whose darkness and profundity one instinctively draws back;" not omitting the Coupée, and Little Serk, with the ladder of ropes on one side of the island, and the harbor and its doorway and tunnel on the other. Add to these its recently-opened mines, from which copper and silver have been obtained in small quantities. No wonder Mr. Inglis exclaims, "What a retreat would Serk be to the professional or the literary man from the din of the metropolis! What a contrast between the crowd, and bustle, and noise of Fleet street, and the repose and free air of Serk, with its deep still dells and flowery knolls, and quiet bays and monotonous sounds." Yet in speaking of the healthiness and longevity of the inhabitants, he dryly puts this question-"Are ten years added to one's life an equivalent for a life spent in Serk?"

Herm and Jethou need not detain us long. They are islets lying off the east side of Guernsey, about midway between it and Serk. Herm has granite quarries, the working of which gives employment to a number of individuals, and has increased its population to about two hundred; its shores are celebrated for the great variety and beauty of the shells to be picked up on them, though this reputation is more of a past than a present kind. From the nature of the rocky shores of Serk, there is scarcely any seaweed to be obtained; but the inhabitants have a privilege of gathering it on the shores of Herm, where it is to be obtained in great abundance. Jethou is smaller than Herm, but is a more picturesque object. It contains the proprietor's house, an excellent orchard, about a score of people, and a number of rabbits.

Alderney has given name to the beautiful little cattle of the Channel islands, and of which their natives are so proud. Special laws both in Jersey and in Guernsey protect the purity of the breed. The importation of foreign cattle is strictly prohib ited, under heavy penalties.

Alderney is distant from Guernsey (northeast by north) about fifteen miles, or twenty from port to port; from Jersey about thirty-three miles from coast to coast, and forty-five from port to port; and about fifty-five or sixty miles south-by-east of Portland Bill, the nearest point of England. The communication with Guernsey is much more frequent and regular than with Jersey. Alderney possesses four vessels, the total burden of which is only one hundred and fifty tons. During the oyster season some of them ply on the French coast; but two, at least, run regularly to Guernsey, paying a visit occasionally to Jersey.

The island is about three miles and three fourths long, from northeast to southwest; about one mile and three eighths broad; and about eight miles in circuit. The southeast coast is formed by picturesque and lofty cliffs, from one to two hundred feet high but as the island shelves toward the northeast, the coasts in that direction are of less elevation, and more indented with small bays, such as those of Longy or Câtel (query, Châtel-Castle ?) bay on the east, and of Braye on the northwest. The last affords good anchorage, and near it is the only harbor in the island, that of Crabby, which, however, is fit for none but small vessels. The approach to the island is dangerous in bad weather, in consequence of the rapidity and diversity of the currents, and the rocks and islets which surround it in every direction.

The "Race of Alderney" lies between the south end of the island and Cape La Hogue, the extremity of the Normandy peninsula. The width of the channel is about seven miles, and it affords sufficient depth of water for the largest ships; but in stormy weather it is very dangerous. The "Swinge" is on the north side, between Alderney and another island called Berhou. Mr. Inglis, who visited Alderney from Guernsey, says: "The sun was setting before we entered the Swinge. As it got lower the boatmen tugged the harder at their oars, anxious, as they said, to make Alderney before dark-not on their account, but on mine; for, supposing I had heard a good deal of the dangers of Alderney, they probably concluded that I was not perfectly at my ease, and they kept now and then repeating to me, in their own indifferent French. Monsieur, jour et nuit, c'est la même chose pour nous'-[day and night, it is all the same for us ]-that was to say, that they knew the navigation so well, that it signified nothing whether it was dark or light when they got into the Swinge. For my part, never having seen the Swinge, I felt no great dread of it; and it was so calm, and mild, and beautiful, that darkness seemed scarcely to have anything of terror in it.

"Notwithstanding all the exertions we made, it fell almost dark before we reached the coast; and when we entered the Swinge there was just light enough to see that its dangers had not been exagerated. Suddenly, from the calmest water we were plunged into an ugly, plashy sea; dancing and breaking as if there were rocks not a foot from the surface. I was just able to see that in some places there were currents like cataracts, and in others singular wide hollows and eddies, like whirlpools; while at no great distance I could perceive the black heads of rocks, appearing and disappearing as the swell of the troubled sea rose and fell among them; and still the boatmen continued their solitary sentence, 'jour et nuit, c'est la même chose pour nous.' It soon became as dark as it is on any March moonless night; but I felt secure in the knowledge and skill of the boatmen; and about an hour after dark, something black and square and high appeared on our bow, which turned out to be the back of the harbor, which we soon after-but apparently with great straining at the oars safely entered; and from what the boatmen now told me, I had reason to

congratulate myself, not on an escape from danger, for I do not suppose there was any, but from considerable inconvenience. Owing to our protracted voyage, the tide had already began to turn; and if we had been half an hour later, or had not been favored by a light breeze which sprang up when it fell dark, no efforts could have carried us into Alderney; and we should have been obliged to have submitted to be carried again through the Swinge, and to have passed the night as we best could.” The climate of Alderney is mild and healthy, though from its more northerly position it is more exposed than the other islands to the northeast winds that sweep the channel; "there is scarcely a rood of land throughout the island that is not exposed to every wind that blows;" fogs, too, are not unfrequent. The soil is sandy, gritty,' and gravelly, round the coast, but in the valleys it is very fertile, producing excellent corn and the best kind of potatoes, much superior to those of Jersey or Guernsey. In the meadows they grow rye-grass and clover, which give excellent milk and butter. The grass lands occupy about one third of the area of the island. The land is generally elevated, but consists both of high and low tracts; a good supply of excellent water is procured in every part of the island.

CHAPTER X.

THE SCENERY OF WALES.

WALES has already been described as a mountainous region, the chief peaks of which somewhat exceed 3,000 feet in height. It is visited by tourists from all parts of the kingdom, on account of the picturesque scenery with which it abounds, particularly in the northern district or North Wales. Its hollows or vales contain none of those beautiful expanses of water which mix such softness with the grandeur of the Cumbrian scenery, but are traversed by impetuous rivers and torrents, according with the precipitous and savage character of the landscape. The vales of North Wales are deeper and narrower than those of South Wales; these expand in many instances into broad plains, affording scope for the operations of the agriculturist, and for the building of towns and villages.

Among the rivers of Wales, the Wye is celebrated for the beauty of its course, and the picturesque scenery presented by its banks. It takes its origin from the mountain of Plynlimmon, a mountain of South Wales, which is about 2,462 feet above the level of the sea, and situated on the verge of Cardiganshire and Montgom eryshire, and gives birth to five rivers, the most important of which is the Severn. and the most beautiful the Wye. The sources of the Severn and Wye (like the fountain-heads of those grander streams, the Danube and the Rhine) are close to each other, and, after pursuing opposite courses, their waters meet, and roll into the ocean together.

For the beauty and variety of the scenery on its banks, there is no river in England at all comparable with the Wye, nor do we believe, notwithstanding the superiority of some of them in point of size, that there is a single river on the continent of Europe that can boast such scenes of alternate grandeur, gracefulness, and pastoral beauty-such an uninterrupted chain of exquisite landscapes as occurs on the Wye all the way from Goodrich castle to Chepstow castle.

It is only at a comparatively recent date that the Wye has become at all frequented on account of its scenery. About the middle of last century, Dr. John Égerton, who was afterward bishop of Durham, was collated by his father to the rectory of Ross, in which pleasant town, situated on the bank of the river, and just at the point where the beautiful scenery begins, the doctor resided for nearly thirty years. He was a man of taste, and had a lively enjoyment of the pleasures of society amid the beautiful scenery of his neighborhood. His chief delight was to invite his friends and connexions, who were persons of high rank, to pay him summer visits at Ross, and then to take them down the Wye, which river, the "Pleased Vaga echoing through its winding bounds," of the poet, as well as the town of Ross, had

derived an interest from the verses of Pope. To this end Dr. Egerton built a pleasure-boat; and year after year excursions were made, until it became fashionable to visit the Wye. The poet Gray, too, remarks: " My last summer tour was through Worcestershire, Gloucestershire, Monmouthshire, Herefordshire, and Shropshire, five of the most beautiful counties in the kingdom. The very principal light, and capital feature of my journey, was the river Wye, which I descended in a boat for nearly forty miles, from Ross to Chepstow. Its banks are a succession of nameless beauties." It may almost be said that the last happy moments Gray knew in this world were spent upon the Wye; for a few months after we find him a prey to ill health and despondence, complaining of an incurable cough, of the irksomeness of his employment at Cambridge, and of "mechanical low spirits ;" and he died in the course of the following summer.

Descending from the lofty sides of Plynlimmon, the Wye, at first an insignificant stream, flows on in a southerly direction, traversing the county of Radnor, which it divides from Brecon. For the first ten miles, or as far as Llangerrig, the country has little to recommend it, being naked and dreary, with brown peat-covered hills in the distance; but from Llangerrig to Rhayader (a distance of twelve miles) the scenery is rather romantic, the river being flanked by bold rocks, and running over a declining irregular bed, in a succession of falls or rapids. At Rhayader, which is in itself a curious, romantic specimen of the small towns of Wales, the river commences to be very picturesque, and there is a fine view of it from the bridge at the entrance of the town, where it falls over a ledge of rocks and forms some deep and dark pools, after which it tears its way through white rocks and crags into a somewhat open and spacious bed. Near to this spot the Wye receives two tributary streams-the Eilon and the Ython-which materially increase its importance; and the whole of the valley between Rhayader and Bualth, or Builth, a distance of thirteen miles, is singularly romantic. The road lies for the most part, close to the bed of the stream, and affords the most favorable views of the lofty banks, the rocky channel, and the winding, devious course of the river. At one point a grand mass, called the Black mountain, seems to choke up the vale and deny all passage to the Wye, which runs rapidly toward it; but just as the river reaches the foot of the mountain, it turns toward the north, and, after opening an unexpected narrow passage, it expands into a broad picturesque bay, a little above Bualth. From this old town, which is entered by crossing a long and rather rude stone bridge, the views of water, wood, mountains, and plain, are fine and extensive. The town itself has an essentially Welsh character; and some of the most interesting events in Welsh history took place in its neighborhood. It was here, on the left bank of the Wye, that the celebrated hero Llewellin was defeated and slain, in 1282, by the army of Edward I.

The road from Bualth to Hay affords some fine prospects of the Wye, though it does not always lie near to the bed of that river. On approaching Hay the scenery loses much of its picturesque wildness-mountains and rocks begin to disappear, neat villas and country-houses occur frequently. The town of the Hay, or, as it is commonly called, the Welsh Hay, is pleasantly situated, and is in part very picturesque. There is a tower with the gateway of an old castle finely covered with ivy, and, in the rear of the church, there are some slight vestiges of fortifications which are supposed to be Roman. A little below the Hay the Wye bends to the east, and enters the beautiful plains of Herefordshire with a slow and majestic pace. Having travelled sixty miles from its source in Plynlimmon, and received numerous tributary streams, it has here the appearance of an important river; but the bed is broad and shallow, and no kind of vessel is seen upon it before reaching the city of Hereford. About two miles below the Hay, and close on the banks of the Wye, stands an old castle, partly surrounded by woods. This was the birthplace of the fair Rosamond, of whom the old chroniclers and poets made so much, and of whose real history so very little is known. The antique building is called Clifford castle, and forms a good feature in a very pleasing landscape. The whole valley of the Wye, from the Hay to Hereford, is highly cultivated and pretty, but devoid of grandeur.

In the ancient city of Hereford, which has a singular air of tranquillity and of the olden times throughout, the tourist may spend a delightful hour or two in examining the fine Gothic cathedral. There are some pleasant promenades in the outskirts of the town, particularly one on a quay immediately above the Wye, which is here a quiet, stately river, as unlike as possible to the brawling mountain torrent which it