398 A PRECIPITOUS PATH. 



cliff, to enjoy the solitude and the magnificence. Far 

 overhead, around the summits of the peaks, the husy 

 and clamorous daws are flying, and the wailing cry of 

 a gull issues now and then from some of the fissures 

 with which the cliffs are rent. Perhaps the tide is in, 

 and the wavelets are rippKng on the shingle, or the 

 green arching billows are dashing up with thundering 

 roar. Perhaps the tide is out, and from the beach 

 extends a broad area before the water's edge is reached, 

 a wilderness of boulders and masses of rock of all 

 forms and dimensions. As we proceed, the shore be- 

 comes more and more rugged, the strewn masses be- 

 come larger, and are piled on one another in yet 

 wilder confusion, until at length further progress is 

 stopped by a lofty promontory that projects into the 

 sea so far that no spring-tide leaves its base uncovered. 

 Yet, if the visitor have nerve for the enterprise, he 

 may ascend to the top of this ridge ; for there is a 

 flight of steps, very narrow, shallow, and shppery, 

 cut in zigzag lines up the face of the precipice, now 

 passing over a slender archway of rock, but just wide 

 enough for the foot, then climbing the edge of a sort 

 of steep sloping ridge or wall by long steps, with no- 

 thing on either side but the thin air, and the points 

 of rock far below. I have ascended and descended 

 two or three times, but never without a shuddering 

 coldness as I came to these parts, and an emotion of 

 thankfulness when they were passed. Yet the pros- 

 pect from the summit, the access into still more se- 

 cluded coves and bays beyond, and the exhilaration 

 always felt at a considerable elevation, make the ascent 

 worth the risk. Besides that, there is in most persons 



