MOTTISTONE succeeds:  a pretty hamlet nearly shrouded in wood, with a very picturesque church.  On an elevated part of the farm are the remains of some small druidical temple called LONGSTONE, which is a rude piece of rock of a quadrangular figure, evidently erected by art, and rears itself about twelve feet above the ground; near it another large stone lies partly buried in the earth, of not less than eight feet long.

BROOK is the last village we pass till we reach Freshwater:  much the same character as the others:  the Mansion-house, which is surrounded with wood, being the only object to notice, besides the little church, which we shall presently pass, posted solitarily on an eminence near the foot of the down.

* * * * *

CHAPTER IV.

THE WESTERN QUARTER OF THE ISLAND, DISTINGUISHED

FOR ITS

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