THE NARROWS. 127 



opening in the rocky Avail is seen, as if by some con- 

 vulsion of nature the great dark rampart had been 

 rent asunder and the sea had rushed in. As the ship 

 glides through this cleft, the traveller looks not with- 

 out a touch of awe at the great cliffs of dark red sand- 

 stone, piled in broken masses on a foundation of gray 

 slate rock. On the right he sees an almost perpen- 

 dicular precipice 300 feet in height, above which rises 

 with almost equal steepness the crest of Signal Hill, 

 520 feet above the level of the sea, on which stands 

 the block house for signalling vessels as they ap- 

 proach the harbor. On the left the rugged hill at- 

 tains a height of six hundred feet; from its base a 

 rocky promontory juts out, forming the entrance to 

 the Narrows on one side. On the summit of this 

 projection is Fort Amherst lighthouse, where is heard 

 the hoarse music of the restless Atlantic, whose waves 

 lash the rocks beneath. 



THE NARROWS. 



Formerly batteries armed with formidable guns rose 

 one over the other on the projecting shoulders and 

 narrow platforms of the surrounding cliffs, and at the 

 narrowest point a rock above water stands off from 

 the shore known as Chain Rock, where in former 

 times, during the troubles with foreign nations, a huge 



