osed to erect it at
the foot of the hill, but each morning found the previous day's work
undone and the materials carried to the top. After some days'
perseverance they gave up the contest, and set up their beacon of the
faith on the spot indicated by their invisible combatants.

Not far from Newport, by a way filled with delight, one reaches
Shorwell, a little village beautifully placed, and with a curious old
church full of interest. Upon one of the walls is an old fresco
illustrating the life and adventures of St. Christopher, and there is a
quaint memorial brass erected by Barnabas Leigh in honor of his two
deceased wives, and with a flattering allusion to wife No. 3, then
living! One wife is followed by a troop of children--the other is
forlornly alone. There is also a memorial to Sir John Leigh and his
grandson Barnabas, who died seven days after the grand-sire:

Inmate in grave he took his grandchild heire,
Whose soul did haste to make to him repaire;
And so to heaven along, as little page,
With him did poast to wait upon his age;

and to Lady Elizabeth Leigh--"Sixteene a maide, and fiftie yeares a
wife."

In the opposite direction from Newport lies Arreton, where Legh Richmond
found the heroine of a narrative we have all read--_The Dairyman's
Daughter_. Her memorial is in the churchyard, which is unusually full of
interesting inscriptions. Here is an early English one from a brass,
dated 1430, within the church:

Here is yburied vnder this graue
Harry Hawles his soul God saue
Longe tyme steward of ye yle of Wyght
Have mercy on hym God ful of myght.

Legh Richmond was curate of two near-by villages, Brading and Yaverland,
during the first years of the present century. Both villages are very
old and full of interesting antiquities--churches, Jacobean manor- and
farm-houses, parish stocks, a bull-ring where our enlightened
forefathers amused themselves savagely as well as sadly.

The excursion to Freshwater, twenty-two miles from Ventnor, is
sufficiently charming when made on top of a coach in the veiled yet warm
friendliness of an English summer day; but the way of ways to make it,
as indeed to see the whole island, is as a pedestrian. Freshwater is at
the extreme western point of the island. In going thither from Ventnor
one traverses all the western portion of the Undercliff, where every
glimpse is a joy; then emerges into a wilder, solitary region, with a
bold coast-li