238 BABBICOMBE TO HOPE'S NOSE. 



no less effectual barrier to the breaking billows ; they 

 run up, up, up, as if they would take the whole area 

 by storni, but are broken and dispersed, like a charge 

 of cavalry against a wall of British steel. 



We lift our gaze to the summit of the great cliff. 

 It is almost as level as a wall, and crowned with a 

 thin stratum of short verdant turf, like that around 

 us. A single-coast guard is seen on the solitary 

 height, with a telescope his invariable fidus Achates 

 at his eye. He looms like a giant, as his dark form 

 is projected against the bright sky. 



Turning toward the west, there is the episcopal 

 palace, an Italian villa, with its garden of terraces 

 and statues, and formal lines of cypresses, and par- 

 terres of brilliant colours ; and the little old village of 

 Marychurch behind in the distance, loftily seated, 

 and its ancient square tower cleaving the sky. Far- 

 ther to the south is Warberry Hill, whence a noble 

 panoramic view of Torquay, and much more, is com- 

 manded ; the woods of Bishopstowe nearer at hand, 

 with a pretty new village church rising beyond them : 

 then rounded hills of turf , with a sweet little peep 

 of the sea lying in a cleft between, as in a goblet 

 half filled ; a little glimpse of Torbay, blue and glit- 

 tering, with many white-sailed craft speckling its 

 bosom. 



Eastward lies the sea ; the grim sea, the beautiful 

 sea, the many-sounding sea. Ships are swiftly scud- 

 ding over it, under a freshening easterly breeze, which 

 is covering it with " white horses," and breaking the 



