prevalent in their composition. Not far from this cavern the face edges to the sea slightly divided, resembling a facade of slender columns, descending from an elevation of 250 feet perpendicular to the sea. The whole promontory is chloride schist, in strata of about six feet. Seated among these rocks, or whirling in circles above and around you, are various sea-fowls which seek these solitary abodes. You cannot look upon them without an interest seldom inspired by the tamer species; whether curlews, gulls, razorbills, guillimots, cormorants, or herons, there is something wild and eccentric in their habits and appearance, which produces ideas of solitude and freedom; for we feel that they are not our slaves, but commoners of nature. Occasionally may be seen on one of the loftiest rocks a peregrine falcon, in high repute when falconry was in fashion—one of those feudal warriors who has survived his fame, no longer the companion of courts and courtly halls. Indeed, there are few objects more interesting than the appearance of the South Stack, when approaching it by water—the Light-house towering, 212 feet above the level of the sea—the sound of life and industry—mingled with the lashing of the sea, and the cry of innumerable birds, are altogether of so unwonted a character, that if you were transported to the antipodes you would not feel more unfeigned surprise. “The traveller,” (observes Dr. Stanley, late Bishop of Norwich) “by day, in his passage up or down the Channel, near the eastern shores, must have observed a white tower, posted like a sentinel, on the brow of a low hammock, apparently forming a projecting ledge from the seaward base of Caer Gybi, or the Mountain of Holyhead. On approaching still nearer, he will perceive that this hammock, is, in fact, an island, torn from the main mass, but connected therewith by a link, at a distance resembling the gauze-work of a gossamer, which in its fall, had accidentally caught upon the corresponding projections of the disjointed rocks. Let him look a little longer, and he will now and then detect minute objects to and fro, and come to the obvious conclusion that this aerial pathway is neither more nor less than a connecting ladder of accommodation formed by the hand of man. The speck by night, the white tower by day, with its hammock and fairy bridge, comprise what is called South Stack, and, taken together it forms a prominent feature in the bold, romantic scenery of this iron-bound coast, and combines so many objects worthy of notice, natural and artificial, that be the observer what he may, poet, philosopher, or naturalist, he will find wherewithal to excite his curiosity, and reward his labour, in visiting a _spot which has not many rivals in its kind in the wide world_.”