SUBLIME SCENERY.
The Road over the Downs from Brooke to Freshwater-gate.
We shall now leave the familiar scenes of cultivation and of village life for a time, to enjoy the charms of unbounded prospect, as we journey for four miles over a succession of pasturing downs, where in many parts our road will be upon a natural carpet of the finest turf.
Tasteless indeed must be those who can travel over these lofty and beautiful downs, without experiencing the most lively gratification from the checquered and magnificent prospects which invite their contemplation on every side: but to enjoy the pleasure in perfection we must occasionally pause, to discriminate (by reference to a friend or a map,) some of the more remarkable features.—Looking to the westward, the high cliffs of Freshwater stretch away in a noble promontory of three miles, forming the foreground to the soft azure perspective of the coast of Dorset: but to the north, so diversified is the extensive landscape with towns and villages, hills, woods, forests, sea, and river, as to mock our most ardent wishes to convey even a faint idea of the grandeur of the composition.
Another source of no inconsiderable pleasure, when traversing these beautiful downs,—soaring as it were in the higher regions—is feeling that we actually breathe the purest atmosphere, so exhilarating to the human frame. Nor is the reverse of this desirable clearness of the weather without its share of amusement—to witness the formation of clouds, as the vapors are drawn up from the sea, and gradually condensed; rolling by, and enveloping us in their misty volumes. It is true indeed, that these exhibitions are not without danger to the traveller, lest he unwarily approach too near the fatal precipice: but this circumstance imposing the necessity of caution, excites an interest—and interest is the very zest of adventure. [Footnote: Near the edge of the cliffs about half a mile eastward of Freshwater-gate, a small tablet has lately been erected, to commemorate the unfortunate fate of a youth who slipped over and perished on the rocks beneath.—Some years ago two successive keepers of the Needles Light-house lost their lives in a similar manner over the precipices on which that establishment is located.]
In short, whether for the splendor of the prospects, the refreshing purity of the air, or the novelty of literally walking in the clouds, we esteem the journey over these downs, as pleasurable as any portion of the tour.
We shall now suppose the Visitor to be descending the last down, and in a few minutes, walking on the beach—here to commence his examination of ...