which, narrowing as it descends, opens into a large cavern known as Cave's Hole, and, looking down, you see, through the dim green light, the waves rushing and foaming among the rocks below. A south-west wind sends the water up in foaming jets; and it is said that small vessels have been driven into the cavern by stress of weather. All along here the cliffs are worn into deep cavernous hollows; in some places detached masses of rock, quite surrounded by water, show where the roofs have fallen in, leaving the craggy buttresses in the form of rude pillars and arches to bear the shock unsupported. A quarter of an hour farther, and there is Pennsylvania Castle, a spacious mansion built by a former governor of Portland, John Penn, a descendant from the famous Quaker. He did besides what was thought to be an impossibility: he made trees grow, and the grounds are now sheltered by goodly belts of sycamoresa phenomenon where trees are so rare as on the Island. A little beyond, on the top of a projecting cliff; stands a venerable relic, Bow and Arrow Castle, built, as some say, in the reign of Stephen, though others hold its second name, Rufus' Castle, to prove a still earlier date. Whichever it be, the time-worn building is still inhabited, and looks picturesque perched on the beetling precipice. Near by is an ancient churchyard, and if you choose to descend to the undercliff where garden plots are laid out, you will find a steep and rugged path leading down to the beach. Here, seeing the broken condition of the cliffs, and the numerous rocks beneath,

you may be led to believe there is more than mere tradition in what the inhabitants say about their Island having been at one time as large again as at present, and that where Pennsylvania Castle now stands was not far from the centre. If true, the destruction on the eastern side has been enormous. On again, and you soon come to the Convict Establishment, protected by its escarpement, within which are the prison and offices, and some sixteen hundred men, nearly all of whom are employed in getting stone for the Breakwater, and in building a strong fort to the north of the Vern Hill. A daily register is kept of each man's work, one effect of which is to rouse a spirit of ambition for a good character for industry. The 210 shoemakers, cooks, and tailors, as shown by the Report for 1853, earned 351. each in the year, and those working at the quarries nearly as much. In the same year there were but eight · deaths from all causes; a proof that the prisoners are not underfed or overworked. Except during the dinnerhour no stranger is permitted to enter without an order from the Secretary of State.

The convict land cuts you off from the cliffs, but skirting its inner border, you may go on till you look down on Castletown, and so complete the tour of the Island. Before leaving the hill, however, step aside to look at the quarries, which, compared with those at the Bill, are stupendous. The narrow ways winding about between precipitous walls and huge mounds of refuse, have something impressive about them. It seemed to

me more than once as I threaded the devious route, that I should come presently to the disinterment of some long-buried city, so much did the cuttings remind me of Mr. Layard's interesting account of his excava


I had next to see the Breakwater, a work which, when complete, will be greater than that at Plymouth. Leaving Castletown by the road running to the east along the foot of the hill, about half a mile brings you to a scene of stirring activity and enterprise. A level space is crowded with piles of stone and timber, cranes and triangles—a locomotive dashes past with a train of wagons laden with stone-another comes speeding from the opposite direction with empty ones-yonder is a third waiting its turn-there is whizzing of steam and a noise of saws and hammers, and every one about the place appears to have more than enough to do. At one side are the smithy and other workshops; on the other, standing where the sea rolled prior to the commencement of the works, are the offices of the resident engineer. The hill is here so close to the water, that land had to be made by filling in to provide sufficient space. The work has been going on ever since 1848, and will probably be continued as many years longer.

The question of a Breakwater at Weymouth was first started during the war with France, but nothing came of it until 1844, when the Commissioners appointed to consider the subject of harbours of refuge, reported in favour of a Breakwater at this place, there being no safe

harbour where a ship might ride out a gale between Portsmouth and Plymouth. Weymouth itself was much injured by the gale of 1824, the pier and esplanade having been nearly demolished for want of protection. Such a spacious bay, too, as that between St. Alban's Head and Portland ought to be made the most of, and as abundance of stone lay close at hand, there would be an important saving in the expense. "The harbour," said the Commissioners, "would complete the chain of communication and co-operation between Dover and Falmouth, a distance of 300 miles." The plans which had been drawn up by Mr. Rendel, one of the ablest engineers of the day, were accordingly approved; Parliament voted 150,000l. towards the sum estimated, 600,000l.; surveys were made and land purchased, and the preliminary works forthwith commenced; and in July, 1849, the first stone was laid by Prince Albert. The proposed plan includes a Breakwater 2500 yards— nearly a mile and a half-in length, which shall shelter more than 2000 acres of Portland Bay, where the depth varies from two to upwards of five fathoms at low water. Starting from the north-eastern corner of the Island, it was to extend in a straight line to the east for 1800 feet, and there finish in a circular head of solid masonry. Then for 400 feet a clear opening was to be left to allow for vessels running to sea in case of emergency; then another circular head similar to the first, and the principal Breakwater carried in the same straight line for 300 feet, from which, curving round,

it went to the north 1800 yards farther, and there terminated in a third circular head. It may thus be considered as one great Breakwater divided by a gap into two unequal portions.

The mode of construction is ingenious and eminently adapted to its purpose. The Plymouth Breakwater, which is not quite a mile long, and cost a million and a half of money, was formed by dropping large stones through the bottom of the boats in which they had been transported from the quarries; but Mr. Rendel builds a timber stage running out from the shore into the sea as far as may be required, and laying down rails, wagons laden with stone are pushed along the stage by locomotives, and made to drop their load into the water beneath by a very expeditious process. The plan is the same as that followed in the construction of the great works now in progress at Holyhead.

Had screw-piles not been previously invented, it is doubtful if such a stage could have been built. Everything depends on them, as we shall see on looking for a few moments at the way in which the great framework is put together. First, a row of piles standing upright a few feet apart, some yards from the water's edge, are screwed down into the sea bottom; a strong beam, one end of which rests on the shore, is then laid out to each pile and properly secured. Here is at once a step gained over the sea; and from this, by a bold contrivance, a second row of piles is similarly fixed in advance, and a second series of beams thrust out to rest

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