THE COAST-SCENERY. 9 



it we pass, and come upon a wooden bridge over-arching an 

 ugly-looking spot bearing the name of Tracy's Cave, which 

 has of course its devout legend to tell, if you are willing to 

 listen. Let the legend be what it may, the place is grim, 

 and at first we tread cautiously as we pass over the bridge of 

 logs ; but soon familiarity reconciles us to this — as it does to 

 small-pox or the income-tax. Before reaching this spot we 

 have come upon another opening, leaned upon another para- 

 pet, and had another gaze at the sunset gleaming over the 

 sea. We now step on the wild and rugged shore. 



And what a shore ! Precipitous walls and battlements of 

 rock rise on each side, making a bay ; before us, sharply-cut 

 fragments of dark rock start out of the water for some dis- 

 tance. Every yard of ground here is a picture. The whole 

 coast-line is twisted and waved about into a series of bays 

 and creeks, each having a character of its own ; and whether 

 we stand on the Tors, and look along the coast — or on the 

 shore, and look up at the rocks, it is always some new aspect, 

 something charming for the eye to rest upon. 



" An iron coast and angry waves, 



You seem'd to hear them climb and fall, 

 And roar, rock-thwarted, under bellowing caves, 



Beneath the wind}' wall." * 



The rock is grauwacke or clay-slate, with occasional streaks 

 of quartz, and the stratification is very various. Look at 

 that reef, round and along which the stealthy tide is crawling ; 

 see how the back of it is ridged with sharp sudden lines 

 cutting against the sky ; or look at that sombre precipice 



* Tennvson. 



