“July 19.—Went to see the rural village of Alfriston, over such a road as I never saw before; and leading over such hills! Two men helped the chaise down one of them. Some finely spreading oaks about the village, which stands on an eminence in a green valley backed by grey downs. Dined at a very old inn; had seats brought on the ground, before and after dinner. Walked the greatest part of the way back to Seaford; saw the sun set behind one of the vast hills. The silent course over this great scene awful—the departure melancholy. Oh GOD! thy great laws will one day be more fully known by thy creatures; we shall more fully understand Thee and ourselves. The GOD of order and of all this and of far greater grandeur, the Creator of that glorious sun, which never fails in its course, will not neglect us, His intelligent, though frail creatures, nor suffer us to perish, who have the consciousness of our mortal fate long before it arrives, and of HIM. He, who called us first from nothing, can again call us from death into life. “In this month, on the 24th of July, my dear father died two years since: on the 14th of last March, my poor mother followed him: I am the last leaf on the tree! The melancholy greatness with which I was surrounded this evening, made me very sensible of this.” From Seaford the tourists proceeded to Eastbourne, and visited Beachy Head. The journal contains the following short description, which places a striking scene before us, with a few strokes of a masterly pencil. “July 20.—Dined at the little village of Friston, seated deep down between immense hills, in a valley, that about a mile off opens to the sea, at the dangerous place called Burling Gap. A Prussian captain, whose vessel had been wrecked at the foot of Beacky, as our landlord called it, had been nine weeks at our poor little inn. The village had been almost buried in the snow, which came down upon the village from the steep sides of the hills; then the thaw nearly overwhelmed it. From the summit of a hill, on our way to Eastbourne, immense retrospect of sea and land. Surprising appearance of the sea, which seemed to rise so high, that it could scarce be distinguished from clouds; ships looked like birds in the sky. Nothing seen but great and simple objects—the round sea—the huge uncultivated headlands.” The ascent of Beachy Head, and the view from it, are described at some length in the Journal; but the following scene on the shore is more peculiar and striking.