“September 2.—Set out about eleven for Canterbury. The road very hilly, but through a most rich country of orchards, hop-grounds and pastures, villages and pretty houses, with lawns and gardens frequently occurring. Feversham, a mile on the left; saw it with its arm of the sea, and the sea itself, at a distance. Soon after began the long ascent of Boughton Hill; the summit rewarded us with a prodigious prospect. The hill itself wild with fern and coppice wood. Many woods also in the near prospect, intermingled with surprising richness of pasture, orchard and hops. Descending the other side, saw the tower of Canterbury cathedral, cresting a hill beyond; the body of the cathedral and the city not yet appearing; the tower became visible again at intervals, and, at length, the city, with its ancient gates and buildings. The cathedral itself looked very tall and solemn, like a spectre of ancient times, and seemed to hint of what it had witnessed. As we approached the gate, supported by octagonal towers, a long line of horses and soldiers poured from the high narrow arch. Proceeded, after dinner, to Dover over Barham Downs. Views into rich little valleys on the right; each village having its tall grey steeple. Noble mansions and parks frequently on the rising grounds. “September 3.—Walked on the beach, watching the retiring and returning waves, and attending to the bursting thunder of the surge. “Afterwards stood on a fortified point below the castle, immediately and high over the beach, commanding a vast marine horizon, with a long tract of the French coast, a white line bounding the blue waters. Below, on the right, Dover curves picturesquely along the sea-bay; the white and green cliffs rising closely over it, except near the castle, where they give place to hills, that open to a green valley, with enclosures and a pretty village, beyond which it winds away. The most grand and striking circumstances, as we stood on the point, were—the vast sea view—the long shades on its surface of soft green, deepening exquisitely into purple; but, above all, that downy tint of light blue, that sometimes prevailed over the whole scene, and even faintly tinged the French coast, at a distance. Sometimes, too, a white sail passed in a distant gloom, while all between was softly shadowed; the cliffs above us broken and encumbered with fortifications; the sea viewed beyond them, with vessels passing from behind; the solemn sound of the tide, breaking immediately below, and answered, as it were, at measured intervals, along the whole coast; this circumstance inexpressibly grand; the sound more solemn and hollow than when heard on the beach below. A fleet of merchantmen, with a convoy, passed and spread itself over the channel.