lish Channel, indenting the shore with its deep bay as far as the land-locked harbour of Christchurch, shut in by Hengistbury Head and the white Swanage rocks; and, on the other, it sweeps away by the long beach of Hurst and its round gray castle. Opposite, glitter the coloured sands and chalk cliffs of Alum Bay, and the white Needle Rocks running wedge-shaped into the sea. Farther eastward, rise the treeless downs, and the breach opens across the Island to Freshwater Gate, and the two batteries, built into the cliff, one by one appear: the long scene ended at last by the houses of Yarmouth—the Solent still winding onward, like some great river.
An uninterrupted path runs, for some three or four miles, along the top of the cliff—the scene constantly changing in its beauty. Below hangs a broken under-cliff, shelving down to the sea, strewed here and there with blocks of gravel, the grass and furze growing on them just as they fell. On the shore stretch long reaches of yellow sand, separated by narrow strips of pebbles, and patches of dark green Barton clay, embossed with shells, and studded with sharks' teeth.
Passing the Coastguard Station and the Gangway, we reach Becton Bunny—very different to Chewton, but equally lovely, with its bare wide gorge, and its beds of furze and heath fringing the edge of the cliff.[1] Very beautiful, too, are the summer sunsets seen from this point—the sun sinking far down the channel, lighting up the coloured sands of Alum Bay purple and gold, tinting the white chalk cliffs with rose and vermilion, the
- ↑ At this point the Marine Beds end, and the Brackish-Water series crop up; and then, lastly, the true Fresh-Water shells commence—the Paludinæ and Limnææ, with scales of fish, and plates of chelonians, and bones of palæotheres, and teeth of dichodons. See, further, chapter xx.
