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absent, for several " painted-lady " butterflies ( Vanessa Cardui), no- 

 where, I believe, A'ery common, were sporting about, and seemed 

 restricted to this beautiful recess. 



In passing slowly on, the sea, that had previously spread its bound- 

 less view in front, becomes contracted by the junction of a mass of 

 intervening rock with the jutting and eastern headland, and a placid 

 lake appears in silent seclusion, seeming a retreat where the world is 

 totally shut out, and every care shut out with it. The limestone 

 rocks, perfectly bare though they are, above this apparent lake, and 

 gray with high antiquity at their summits, yet from the oxydation of 

 their surface lower down, assume a deep burnt-sienna tint, varying in 

 its intensity, and are almost indigo at the water's edge — this variation 

 of colour adding much to the beauty of the picture, which without it 

 would here have but a sterile aspect, though the samphire occa- 

 sionally imparts a touch of verdure to the rocks. Just at this inte- 

 resting point, where the rocks meet and the sea appears to be shut 

 in, one can scarcely do otherwise than sink down upon the turf 

 quietly to enjoy the prospect that presents itself, and with a hermit's 

 feelings give contemplation its fill. 



Proceeding on, a fissure opens in the rocks, through which a nar- 

 row passage winds, and on emerging, another smaller cove appears 

 even wilder than the former, with white pebbles and broken rocks on 

 its margin, on which the surge dashes with hollow sound. But the 

 hollows and declivities of this glen are thickly covered with vegeta- 

 tion, from which its shattered rocks vainly strive to escape, for they 

 are held in its embraces, and it covers them with a vesture in almost 

 every part. Here, wildly wandering over the steeps, the wood vetch 

 -{Vicia sylvatica) spreads most luxuriantly around, almost bathing its 

 purple tresses in the sea ; and clustered in many spots, the beautiful 

 blossoms of the bastard balm {Melittis Melissophyllum) — white, 

 blotched with purple — appear strikingly conspicuous ; while the air is 

 loaded with fragrance from the wild honeysuckle and the sweet-briar. 



Why has not some poet seized a simile from the Melittis ? — here it 

 is, to be worked out by any one who wants a subject. While grow- 

 ing, the scent of the plant is most horehoundish and ungrateful ; but 

 treasure it up, and as it dries no odour of hay-field in summer can be 

 more delicious. Is it not like some adverse circumstance — bitter in 

 its growth, but losing its acrimony with time, and at last scenting the 

 memory ? " Sweet are the uses of adversity." But it is enough to 

 indicate the sentimental, though few I imagine but would imbibe 

 poetical thought in some degree from a brief sojourn in Anstey's Cove. 



