“There was anciently a chapel,” replied Mr. Merton, “which was built in the year 1323, by the lord of the neighbouring manor; and a certain yearly sum was assigned to it to maintain a monk there, whose duty it was to sing mass, and keep a constant light burning to guide mariners. But at the Reformation the poor monk’s revenues were swept away, and his chapel has become a ruin. There was, however, a light-house erected near it about fifty or sixty years ago, but I believe it soon fell into disuse.” “The sailors could not see the light on account of the fogs,” said the driver. “What! are there fogs on the summit of that down?” cried Mrs. Merton. “So thick that you could not see your hand before you. It is not very long since the landlord of that very house you stopped at walked over the cliff one foggy night, when he thought he was going home to his own house. So they had no light-house at all here till the loss of the ‘Clarendon’ made such a talk; and then they built the light-house of St. Catherine’s, that you see down yonder.” They had now just passed a pretty romantic-looking Gothic cottage called the Sand-rock Hotel; on the fine lawn before which were several persons sitting, enjoying the cold morning breeze. It was, in fact, a delightful scene: the air was fresh and pleasant, though the sun shone brightly; and the sea, instead of the boisterous force which it had shown the preceding night, curled gently round the cliffs, with a snow-white crest mantling on its edge, and seemed as if it were smiling at the mischief it had done. They had now a good view of the light-house which the driver had mentioned. It was an octagon building about one hundred and twenty feet high, standing upon a cliff about fifty feet above the level of the sea. Advancing rapidly, they soon reached the pretty little church of St. Lawrence; which is said to be the smallest parochial church in Great Britain; as it is only twenty feet long, twelve feet wide, and six feet high, in the lowest part; though, from the roof being of a steep slope, it is much higher in the middle of the church. Mrs. Merton and Agnes got out of the carriage, and walked round this curious little building, which appeared to have been constructed for Lilliputians, rather than for human beings of the ordinary size. They walked round the church-yard, and found one of the tomb-stones erected to the memory of a gentleman, upwards of ninety years of age, who had lost his life by falling from the downs just above the church, while travelling through the island. After satisfying their curiosity by inspecting the church, Mrs. Merton and Agnes returned to the carriage; and they drove on to St. Lawrence’s Well, where the water of a delightfully clear and pure spring is received in a stone-basin, protected by a kind of alcove, which forms an elegant little stone building surrounded by trees. Fortunately the party had a travelling case with them containing a glass; and they were all, except