st^v, NATURE NEAR LONDON ^^^ 



the face of the sea. A Roman trireme suddenly 

 rounding the white edge-line of chalk, borne on 

 wind and oar from the Isle of Wight towards the 

 grey castle at Pevensey (already old in olden days), 

 would not seem strange. What wonder could sur- 

 prise us coming from the wonderful sea ? 



The little rills winding through the sand have 

 made an islet of a detached rock by the beach ; 

 limpets cover it, adhering like rivet-heads. In the 

 stillness here, under the roof of the wind so high 

 above, the sound of the sand draining itself is 

 audible. From the cliff blocks of chalk have 

 fallen, leaving hollows as when a knot drops from 

 a beam. They lie crushed together at the base, 

 and on the point of this jagged ridge a wheatear 

 perches. 



There are ledges three hundred feet above, and 

 from these now and then a jackdaw glides out and 

 returns again to his place, where, when still and 

 with folded wings, he is but a speck of black. A 

 spire of chalk still higher stands out from the 

 wall, but the rains have got behind it and will 

 cut the crevice deeper and deeper into its founda- 

 tion. Water, too, has carried the soil from under 

 the turf at the summit over the verge, forming 

 brown streaks. 



Upon the beach lies a piece of timber, part of 

 a wreck j the wood is torn and the fibres rent 

 _ 27 6- 



