its area, six feet from the lower edge of the roof, but in all respects perfect, with Gothic windows, painted glass, pulpit, reading-desk, pews, altar, bell, &c.-every part constructed on a proportionate scale, and habitually occupied as a place of public worship.

The Needles, like the Icebergs, shooting up their sharp points towards heaven, presenting their awful fronts, jutting out their acute angles into the sea, and, like the Icebergs, the dread of the mariner, are at the southwestern extremity of the island.

On a second visit to the Isle of Wight, in the summer of 1834, in company with another friend, with whom I had the privilege and happiness to lodge the last fifteen months of my residence in London, whose memory is dearer to me than that of any other man, and a sense of whose virtues will live in my heart while I have being, I made the following notes at our lodgings in Ryde:

Warren Cottage stands in one of the sweetest places of this charming town. It is situated in the centre of a plane inclined towards the east, the bulk of the town being on a corresponding declivity to the north. At the foot of this plane is a flat lowland of about one hundred acres, called Monk's Meads, a few feet above the tide, redeemed from the sea, or from which the sea is supposed to have retired. They are now making hay in this bottom under my eyea pretty scene. On the rising ground beyond, about half a mile, I see the white frocks of six mowers, swinging the scythe with a simultaneous stroke. Over the tops of Appley Wood, in the same direction with the mowers, are the fullspread sails of an India ship, leaving the roadstead under easy sail. A little to the left, and almost twenty miles across the water, is Chichester Cathedral. Further still to the left are Portsmouth and Gosport, with the lines of fortifications on either side of the entrance to the harbour, and a forest of whitewashed stumps (mainmasts) of the ships of war lying in ordinary. The apparently circular line of England's shore, defined by the reflected rays of the sun from the shingle (pebbles) on the beach, with the dark line of verdure above, and an indistinct range of higher ground far beyond, stretches before my eye some 30 or 40 miles towards Brighton, till it sinks beneath the horizon, or is merged in a smoky atmosphere. Returning to nearer objects, Appley House and wood, immediately on the shore, and within a mile, with their various features, are a grateful scene. Rising still to the right, and crowning the hill, is St. John's Place, the seat of Sir Richard Simeon, M. P., a Jew, as I am informed, and as his name might import. His title, however, as I suppose, comes by Gentile connexions, and by accommodating his Jewish faith to paganized Christian names. His seat is good enough, either for a Christian or a Jew; and

I, for one, am much obliged to him for the pleasure it affords me in looking at it. It is one of the most desirable places in the vicinity of Ryde.

Ryde is the beauty of Wight, and one of the pleasantest watering-places and summer resorts of the very many which the coasts of the British islands afford. It is a town of 4,000 residents, having in addition, at the visiting season, from 1,000 to 2,000, principally from London. It lies on an inclined plane, on the north side of the island, towards its eastern extremity, directly opposite Portsmouth, of which, as well as Gosport, and an extended line of the southern shore of the mainland, it commands a perfect view. The famous roadstead, Spithead, is before this town, where we have a constant scene of the coming in and going out of shipping from and to all parts of the world. Even while I am writing this line, an English frigate is coming to anchor before my eyes, having fired a salute as she rounded the eastern point of the island, and is now receiving a return-salute from the flag-ship Victory, in Portsmouth harbour, on the decks of which Nelson ordered his last naval battle, and obtained his last victory; and from my window I hear her guns, and see the volumes of smoke ascend. It is about five miles distant across the channel, called the Solent Sea, separating the island from the mainland.

Ryde differs from most English towns in not being crowded in a heap on narrow streets-is well built-rural in its aspects the whole constituting a great perfection of convenience and of taste. There is a pier running out into the Solent Sea one third of a mile, at the extremity of which steamers are hourly arriving and departing, connecting this town with Portsmouth, Southampton, Cowes, Lymington, and other near ports. There is probably no country in the world that supports so many public watering-places, and other points of resort for pleasure and health, as England. The entire circle of the island is lined with places built almost exclusively for this object, furnishing every allurement of convenience and luxury. The inland watering-places are also numerous, and in the appropriate season crowded; such as Bath, Cheltenham, Tunbridge Wells, Leamington, Harrowgate, &c. That so many towns and villages can be well supported, and rise from year to year in their importance and magnitude, as mere resorts of pleasure, is a notable proof of the wealth of the nation, and of the high degree of independence which a large share of the population enjoys.

ON A STILL DAY.

London, the place of eternal smoke and fog, where the sun and stars are never seen in their glory; where the rumbling of wheels and the tramping of horses never cease by day or night, Sundays or week-days; where the Sabbath

morning sees the pleasure-seeking world pouring out to the country, and the evening witnesses their return, while all the public promenades and parks teem with countless floods of immortal beings; London, that great and noisy Babylon, is to me as if it were not. I cannot realize its existence; I almost forget that I have ever been there. I find myself planted in the midst of a deep and solemn repose—which seems like the repose of the universe. The dark blue sea, that stretches out before me on the east, is at rest; the winds are at rest; the ships in the roadstead, and every boat that lies on the water, are at rest; the clouds seem to be at rest; the road below, and the rising grounds beyond, with a grove, are at rest: the stretched-out line of the coast of England, in the distance, with its towns and villages, its cliffs of chalk, and a cathedral spire, all lie in silent repose; this little town and its inhabitants seem to be all at rest; no bustle, no rolling of carriages, no running to and fro. How different gratefully, sweetly different from the London world. I did not think it were possible to be transplanted so suddenly into circumstances so widely at variance in the effects they produce upon the mind-from the great centre of human society, where there is no Sabbath externally, to a remote scene where the Sabbath seems perpetual.

ANOTHER DAY.

If I had not witnessed a scene to spoil the pleasures of the day, I should have been in excellent mood to record some of the agreeable impressions I had received in a seaside walk towards the eastern extremity of the island, to a little hamlet called Sea View, about three miles from Ryde, returning by an inland route of four miles-making a circuit of seven. But just as I had descended the hill, and passed the porter's lodge at St. John's Place, near town, I discovered a crowd of rustics occupying the road a few rods before me, apparently in an earnest and somewhat noisy conference. There were perhaps a dozen men, old and young. At the moment, as I came up, two of them stood face to face, like fighting-cocks, fending and menacing by signs and words, one of them saying-" I'll out with your eyes;" and the other stoutly replying-"Do it." They appeared to be about twenty years old. I had scarcely passed when the battle begun.

Boxing is a science in England, and men devote themselves to it professionally. The lower orders of the English have a notable taste for fighting. Except with the parties who give and take the bruises, it is a public sport, as much as horse-racing and fox-hunting. In all the lower ranks of life, whenever a trifling dispute occurs between any two individuals, old or young, down even to boys of ten and six

years old, a ring is immediately formed, and every possible incitement is employed to set them on. The ring is the jury, and the executive authority, to see that the rules of boxing, &c. are fairly kept between the parties. This panelling of a jury is an indirect and singular proof that all this part of the community understand the rules-as is a matter of fact—and they have a great delight in seeing them well kept.

I never before came into such intimate contact with a scene of this kind. The crowd filled the road, and the combatants were fairly pelting each other as I came upon them. I was surprised to find, that instead of being shocked, these rustics were amused; instead of endeavouring to separate and pacify the antagonists, they considered it their part to order fair play, and to stimulate them to do their best. Grave men were there, who were doubtless husbands and fathers, and who, but for being seen in that place and thus employed, might have been thought fit to act the part of jurors at the king's assizes, and who very likely had performed that duty. And yet they seemed as much interested and animated by this scene as any young fellow that was there. The combat was so earnest, and the knocks so rude and violent as I passed, that mere anxiety and sympathy for them, as sufferers, involuntarily arrested my steps, and forced me, at the distance of a rod or two, to look round on this novel and strange sight. After a few moments' pounding of each other, they were encouraged by the lookers-on, the jurors, to rest; and two men stepped forward, each offering his knee to a combatant, and their arms to hold them up. After giving them a little space to breathe, they set them on again, and cheered them. I felt a powerful impulse to interfere; but a moment's reflection instructed me that I might as well have put my hand between two fighting bears. The second round-which I believe is the scientific term-the blood streamed from the nostrils of one of them, and he staggered, and fell into the arms of one that caught him, and assisted him to rest upon his knee for a renewal of the conflict. None of them seemed frightened at the sight of blood; but some one dipped his handkerchief in the rill by the side of the road, and attempted to wash the blood from his face; but it flowed faster than he could wipe it away. All seemed to enjoy the sport; and made their criticisms upon the manner in which it was conducted. In a moment they were set on again, till one was knocked down. He was picked up and held till his face was washed from the blood that covered it, and they were pushed at each other again, and cheered on, when one of them could hardly stand, and he was knocked down a second time; helped up, and knocked down again; and again; till by some law, unknown to me, the battle was ended, when both the parties might have been killed by the

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violence inflicted on each other. It was indeed a frightful scene-barbarous-brutal. I have no apology, nor can I account for the fact, that I stopped even a moment to witness it. I was taken by surprise; I was anxious; I was afraid they would kill each other; I tried several times to go; then turned about under the impression that I ought to interfere. But before I could decide to go, or what to do, the affair was brought to a close. It was obviously an accidental quarrel; and the spectators seemed to enjoy it very much. I should have pronounced them in other circumstances sober Isle-ofWight men, of the class of common labourers. It was an unexpected, singular, and painful exhibition-a relic of a barbarous age-an anomalous accident in the present state of civilization and refinement-a prodigious incongruity under the blazing light and softening influence of Christianity. But I must not forget that which is more agreeable. A large moiety of the pleasant winding shore, from Ryde to Sea View, is built up into a strong stone wall, in front of the several estates which border on the sea, and directly in the line of high tide. These walls are compact pieces of masonry, composed of large blocks of stone, bound together with water cement, as firm and immoveable, apparently, as a native and undisturbed quarry. This artificial line of wall seems to say to the sea, which dashes against its base-"Here shall thy proud waves be stayed." It constitutes a pleasant terrace promenade, and is a great convenience to the meditative stroller, if he does not forget where he is, in his poetic absorptions, and walk into the sea. There are several enchanting estates, mansions, and villas along this shore, among which is St. Clair, belonging to Lord Vernon.

But we find pleasure and pain where we least expect it. I set out for a seashore ramble-was in pursuit of gratification from that specific source. Invoke and pursue pleasure, and it takes wings and cannot be found. The tide was up and covered the beach; a hot sun beat upon the shore; I became fatigued in picking my way over the pointed rocks, climbing the bank, and getting down again; and arrived at Sea View at last with little relish for the promised vision.

But before long I plunged into one of the narrow winding roads of the Isle of Wight, to return by an inland route, fenced by an uninterrupted hedge on either side; shaded here and there by a range, or a grove of elms and various shrubbery, perpetually rising or descending the undulated surface, swollen often to hills, exhibiting their highly-cultivated sides, marked with the frequent hedge, and studded with farmhouses, barns, clusters of hay-ricks, villas, and more superb mansions; occasional peeps of the inland sea, specked with sails, and of sections of the mainland, opening and closing as I passed along; a narrow road, scarcely a rod wide, and ever devious, like the track of a serpent, so