JET. 30-34.] SHAKESPEARE'S CLIFF. 57 



where on foot ; and when in later years he took the 

 reins in driving a pony-carriage, he was so much en- 

 grossed with the very roadside banks that the pony 

 ran up hill and down hill as it chose, and his companion 

 felt that these drives were scarcely safe. 



While out on field-work, letters from his mother 

 attest her constant solicitude about his health, and 

 her anxiety lest he should take unduly long walks or 

 over-tax his strength. It is not surprising that he was 

 an inveterate walker, as he was lithe and spare, light of 

 step, with little weight to carry. It goes without say- 

 ing that he was an expert climber : he scrambled over 

 cliffs and rocks with a nerve which was never shaken 

 but on one memorable occasion, to which he scarcely 

 cared to refer. He made the ascent and we presume 

 that it was about this date of the sea-face of Shake- 

 speare's Cliff, yet never spoke of it without a shudder. 

 Situated about a mile from Dover, it rises to a height 

 of 340 feet, and, as is well known, presents a sheer wall 

 of chalk to the sea. He was overtaken by the tide, 

 when unaided and alone he began the ascent of the 

 cliff. He had climbed up half-way, when he felt un- 

 able to go a step farther. There was bare foothold, and 

 retreat was impossible. It was the most perilous moment 

 of his life. He made a desperate effort, and we can 

 imagine the slim tapering fingers so curiously delicate 

 grasping any and every projection. After several awful 

 minutes, the summit was reached, where during half an 

 hour he lay on his back on the grass, unable to move. 

 It is needless to say that this experience was never 

 repeated. 



During the presidency of Sir R. I. Murchison in 

 1846 he was elected a member of the Council of 

 the Geological Society, when the veterans Sedgwick, 



