80 THE FLEET. 



ners coming up the Channel, hut hurry through it, 

 and across the fields to the sq,ndy water's edge. 



A curious and interesting scene was here hefore 

 me ; the tide was out, and the water was reduced to 

 what looked like a shallow rivulet, scarcely more than 

 a ditch in fact, with large patches of mud uncovered, 

 green with confervoid plants. On the opposite side, to 

 which one could have thrown a stone, rose a high beach 

 of pebbles, on which several fishermen's boats were 

 lying. This was the Chesil Bank, one of the most 

 singular and most extensive ridges of pebbles in the 

 world. It is a natural barrier thrown up by the sea, 

 sixteen miles in length, consisting of smoothly rolled 

 pebbles of white spar, quartz, j asper, &c. which regu- 

 larly diminish in size from that of an egg (their dimen- 

 sions down here) to that of a horse-bean at Abbots- 

 bury, and thence to mere fine gravel. This bank, 

 which connects Portland with the main, divides from 

 the sea of West Bay a very narrow inlet called the 

 Fleet, which runs up to a length of ten miles, and 

 forms at the extremity a swannery of about a thou- 

 sand swans. The creek is the resort in winter of the 

 Wild Swan, as well as many other species of water- 

 fowl. 



I was curious to observe what zoological features 

 so remarkable a water might furnish ; and though I 

 did not obtain much, some peculiarities were noticed. 

 The little pools left isolated, and the shallow indenta- 

 tions of the muddy shore were tenanted by multitudes 

 of little fishes, which were lying motionless in great 

 numbers, but shot away so invariably on the approach 

 of a footfall that it was difficult to ascertain their 



