They now entered the little hamlet of Mottistone; a pretty little place, with a very picturesque church, and a curious upright stone, supposed to be part of a temple of the Druids. Then they passed through Brixton, a village containing nothing worth seeing but a donkey that had lain down, with a lady on his back: after which the road made a sharp turn to the right, and they now approached the sea; though the scene was devoid of beauty, from the barrenness and gloomy hue of the downs. They were, however, tired with their journey, and glad to approach a newly-erected Gothic cottage, which, they found, was the inn. The house was nearly full; and it was some time before they could be accommodated with a room. They were, however, at last shown into a tolerably large one, with two windows, one of which looked on the downs they had passed, and the other on the gloomy rocks of Black Gang Chine. Mrs. Merton ordered an early dinner; and, while it was preparing, Agnes ran out under the veranda, to play with a large black dog belonging to the people of the house, and Mrs. Merton turned over the leaves of an album which lay on the table. When dinner was over, Mrs. Merton having seen her husband comfortably placed on the sofa, inquired the way to the Chine, and set out, accompanied by her daughter. They first entered a kind of field, by a gate; and, crossing a small wooden bridge, they arrived at a fanciful-looking cottage, filled with toys; where they engaged a guide. While waiting for this person, Mrs. Merton bought Agnes a curiously-shaped bottle,—filled with sand from Alum Bay, arranged so as to represent the Needle Rocks washed by the sea, and some hideous trees,—with some other trifles; and Agnes was amused watching a large Kittiwake Gull, which seemed quite tame. The guide at length arrived; and they proceeded down the steep descent which leads to the Chine; the gull hopping before them, as though it were helping to show the way. The descent was very steep and slippery, and the rocks rose black and stern above them. The night was closing in more rapidly than Mrs. Merton expected; and, in fact, she began to get alarmed. “Do you not think it is getting dark very soon to night?” said she to the guide. “Why, yes, it is,” returned the man; “but I think we shall have a storm.” “A storm!” cried Mrs. Merton, looking at Agnes with terror. “Oh! you’ll have plenty of time to see the Chine, and get miss back before it begins.”