Perhaps the most graceful curve of coast line in Dorset is Swanage Bay, and to see it at its best one should stroll across the rising ground of Peveril Point.  To the right are the dark cliffs of Purbeck marble that encircle Durlston Bay; to the left across the half-moon stretch of water is the white chalk of Ballard Point guarded by “Old Harry’s daughter,” the column of detached chalk in front.  At one time this was one of a family, but “Old Harry” and his “wife” have sunk beneath the waves and the sole remaining member of the family may disappear during the next great storm.  Beyond, indistinct and remote during fine weather but startlingly near when the glass is falling, are the cliffs of Alum Bay in the Isle of Wight, and the guardian “Needles.”

The picturesque High Street should be followed past the Town Hall with its alien Carolean front, and the long wall of Purbeck House that is said to be made up from the “sweepings” of the Albert Memorial at Kensington.  Down a lane at the side of the civic building is the old “Lock Up,” with an inscription as quaint as it is direct, for it tells us that it was erected “for the prevention of Wickedness and Vice by the Friends of Religion and Good Order.”  Farther up High Street is a cottage, creeper-clad and picturesque, where Wesley stayed while preaching to the quarrymen.  The best part of this stroll is towards the end, where a space opens out on the right to St. Mary’s Church and the mill pond which is surrounded by as extraordinary a jumble of queer old roofs and gables as may be seen in Dorset.  The church has been rebuilt and much altered and enlarged, but the tower is as old as it looks and has seen several churches come and go beneath it.  There is no door lower than the second story and it must have been reached by a ladder.  It was undoubtedly built for, and used as, a fortress in case of need.

Although there is little of beauty in the quarries that honeycomb the hills to the west of Swanage, the industry that is carried on is of much interest as a surviving guild or medieval trades union.  One of the laws of the “company,” unbroken from immemorial time, is that no work may be given to any but a freeman or his son who, after seven years’ apprenticeship, becomes a senior worker upon presenting to the warden a fee of 6_s_. 8_d_., a loaf of bread and a bottle of beer.  The guild meet every Shrove Tuesday at Corfe to transact the formal business of the year.  Each quarryman and his partner, or partners, hold the little independent working allotted to them apart from the remainder of the quarry.  This obviously prevents blasting and each block of stone is cut out by manual labour.

[Illustration:  TILLY WHIM.]