SHAKESPEARE CLIFF 247 



yachts, cutters, hoys, smacks, brigantines," billy-boys," 

 and steamers of every age, size, and trade, from the neat 

 passenger-boats, with their decks holystoned to wonder- 

 ment, to the dirty ocean-tramp, or the ink}^ wallo^ving 

 collier ; together with other craft whose names are 

 unknown to the landsman. Likewise, there are many 

 of the mercantile marine about. One may not, 

 contrary to general belief, know these by their dress, 

 for there is no peculiarity in the raiment of the 

 mercantile Jack — except perhaps for its raggedness, 

 poor fellow — by which he may be recognized. Rather 

 would one know him by his anxious expression of 

 countenance and by that inveterate habit of his, 

 ashore, of leaning heavily against walls and posts, or 

 anything capable of giving support. You may notice 

 poor Jack's favourite haunts hereabouts by the bare 

 and burnished appearance of the brick and paint 

 bordering on the Docks, and situated at a height of 

 about four feet from the ground, where his shoulders 

 have rubbed immemorially. 



XLII 



Since we are in the way of it, it comes naturally to 

 include Shakespeare Cliff in this little survey. You 

 reach it from here either by a hideous contrivance 

 called the Shaft, fashioned in the cliffs that frown down 

 upon Snargate Street, or by Limekiln Street beyond. 

 Here, on the way, is Archcliffe Fort, between the Citadel 

 and the sea. They say, who should know, that it is 

 heavily armed, but it is not at all impressive : old boots, 

 tin cans, brick-bats, cabbage-stalks, and rusty umbrella- 

 frames rarely are ; and of these there are rich and varied 

 deposits lying in the fosse, amid the scanty grass where 

 industrious sheep endeavour to earn a living. Indeed, 

 this is the most eloquent picture of mild-eyed Peace 

 I have ever seen, and Landseer's painting which shows a 



