is the very zest of adventure. [Footnote:  Near the edge of the cliffs about half a mile eastward of Freshwater-gate, a small tablet has lately been erected, to commemorate the unfortunate fate of a youth who slipped over and perished on the rocks beneath.—­Some years ago two successive keepers of the Needles Light-house lost their lives in a similar manner over the precipices on which that establishment is located.]

In short, whether for the splendor of the prospects, the refreshing purity of the air, or the novelty of literally walking in the clouds, we esteem the journey over these downs, as pleasurable as any portion of the tour.

We shall now suppose the Visitor to be descending the last down, and in a few minutes, walking on the beach—­here to commence his examination of ...

THE FRESHWATER CLIFFS.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  FRESHWATER BAY, I.W. (The two remarkable isolated Rocks and Entrance to the principal Cavern.)]

    “Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway,
    Seem nodding o’er the caverns gray.”

>>_Several romantic_ CAVERNS near Freshwater-gate:  the Needles LIGHT-HOUSE—­and the wonderfully COLORED SANDS of Alum Bay, are accessible without taking boat:  the celebrated NEEDLE ROCKS are seen (though not to advantage,) from the down and beach:  but the GRAND ARCH, the WEDGE-ROCK, and several deep CAVERNS and other curiosities of Rock-scenery, can be viewed only by water, which is extremely desirable in calm weather.

* * * * *

THE WHITE CLIFFS OF ALBION is so favorite a poetical designation of the English coast, that it is with some degree of pride we hail our “sea-girt isle” as surpassing in the magnificence and splendor of this characteristic, every other part of the kingdom; for even Shakspeare’s cliff at Dover, immortalized as it is by the pen of the bard himself, is little more than half the elevation of some of the chalk precipices of the Isle of Wight,—­which, at Freshwater, rise from the bosom of the blue ocean with a perpendicular face of the most dazzling whiteness, the sublime altitude of more than 600 feet!—­being nearly one-half higher than the pinnacles either of St. Paul’s or Salisbury Cathedrals.

A stranger from the inland districts, who may never have seen a precipice upon a grander scale than is presented by the sides of some deep chalk-pit, would be at a loss to imagine wherein consisted the BEAUTY and the INTEREST of such seemingly monotonous scenes; especially when informed that they are indebted to no borrowed ornament from either tree or shrub:  and indeed it would prove equally difficult on our part to furnish a comprehensive definition.  One eminent writer enthusiastically eulogises their appearance as “singularly elegant when viewed at