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We now approach a most singular and romantic tract of the south-eastern coast, dividing the claim of interest even with the sublime scenery at the west end of the island:  we mean ...

THE UNDERCLIFF,

Which commences at East End, and terminates at Blackgang Chine, an extent of above eight miles, averaging about one mile’s breadth:  and bounded on the land-side by a towering ridge of perpendicular stone cliffs, or precipitous chalky hills; presenting in many parts the venerable time-worn appearance of some ancient fortress.  Between this craggy ridge and the sea-cliffs, every spot bears the striking impress of some violent convulsion, such in fact as would be produced by an earthquake:  but in proportion to the time that shall have elapsed, so all the more rugged marks of devastation are either obliterated by the liberal hand of Nature, or converted into positive beauties.  Originally the whole of this tract, or nearly so, was rock resting on a sort of loose marly foundation:  this being perpetually exposed to the undermining action of the sea at its foot; accelerated in wet seasons by the marle being rendered soft and yielding,—­it is evident that, sooner or later, such a foundation would give way to the immense superincumbent pressure, and be attended with all the direful effects of a real earthquake.

Most probably other subsidences will yet take place, until more of the oozy, sliding foundation shall be removed, and its place occupied by a sufficient quantity of fallen rock, as will secure the stability of the ground; as we find to be the case for the greater part of this singular tract, which has certainly been in a state of repose for seven or eight centuries at least.  Fragments of the cliff are indeed frequently shivered off, but rarely or never attended with any very injurious consequences:  it is those extensive landslips which are alarming, when many acres of valuable land are completely overturned and laid waste in a few hours.  The huge masses of solid rock thus torn and dashed about, produce the grandest scenes of terror:  but are at the same time the source of those singular beauties—­that variety of fractured cliff and broken ground, which are the greatest ornaments of this romantic country.

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EAST END.

     >>_The Tourist ought, if possible, to walk through this very
     romantic scene, and if in a vehicle, be upon his guard that the
     driver does not hurry him by it, as is often the case._

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Here, as we have said before, the Undercliff commences:  and as soon as the stranger has nearly compassed the valley of Luccombe, he should particularly enquire for the spot which is the entrance to this romantic scene ...

    “Where twines a path in shadow hid,
    Round many a rocky pyramid.”