12G 



THE GEOLOGIST. 



From the Lees the greensand-cliff ranges westward, presenting a 

 })old, rugged face, with jutting beds of warm greenish-yellow stone, 

 glowing in the sun's bright beams, and looking ruddier in their con- 

 trast with the dark bushes of intermingled gorse and the tufts of 

 thyme and other plants which grow from every sandy seam. A 

 pretty walk it is on a summer's afternoon along the foot- way. Below 

 is the turnpike-road and the great natural sea-wall of fallen rocks, 

 resisting still the buffets of the waves. There, too, below us is the 

 broad expanse of the British Channel, dotted with white sails of 

 fi-eighted ships and fishing-boats, and streaked and clouded with the 

 paddle-foam of smoking steamers. Butterflies and moths flutter 

 amongst the rank herbage, and grasshoppers chirrup along the bank 

 that bars us from the level and fertile fields. 



As we approach Sandgate, the pretty little village with its long 

 street of straggling houses and its round castle set in its ring of semi- 

 circular lunettes bursts suddenly on the sight, A charming ^ iew 



I-itrn. 10.-Sniulj^'at<>. from the end of the Folkestone Cliffs. The foregi'ound consisting of the 

 upper, the nud-disuince behind the village of the middle division, beyond, in the distance, 

 the Ken tush rag-beds of Hy the. > j- j 



uuWd it is ivom (his abrupt termination of the Folkestone chffs. A 

 slt>(>p path, skirting a i\[artello-tower— for these round forts extend 

 for miU's along the coast— winds down to the villao-e beneath, at the 



