stward of the Parade: but were it not for a small
battery of eleven guns in front, the stranger might search in vain for a
fabric which he could identify as "a Castle," at least by any portion of
its modernized architecture and surrounding embellishments. In fact, the
original dwelling was a few years ago greatly enlarged--made a story
higher--the open ground at the back inclosed (!)--with other alterations
to render it a fit residence for nobility. It was built by king Henry
VIII, about the same time as those at Sandown, Yarmouth, and Calshot,
for the purpose of securing the coast against the then frequent attacks
of pirates, as well as the more formidable invasions of the French.

Beyond the Castle are the bathing-machines; the villas of Earl Belfast
and Lord Grantham; and behind these several others built in various
tasty styles, and acquiring a picturesque effect from being more or less
screened by the copse-wood on the steep slope at their back. But the
chief ornament of this quarter is the new Episcopal chapel, whether
viewed near, or from a distance on the water,--being a chastely-elegant
structure in the Gothic style, in a most commanding situation: it is
private property. Should the stranger feel disposed to extend his walk
for about a mile further on the beach, which he would find very
agreeable--he will come to a gentleman's residence distinguished by an
air of antiquity, named Westcliff, though the neighbourhood is popularly
called EGYPT.

We make this remark, because there is a lane close by, which turns
up to the high-road from Cowes to Gurnard Bay, and by this road we
would recommend the visitor by all means to return, for the sake of
the magnificent prospect which it affords, and on the peculiar
character of which the _permanent_ attractions of the place so much
depend. But to do this justice, the reader must have recourse to
his Map. The most prominent objects are Calshot Castle, standing
apparently isolated at the mouth of Southampton Water, and the tall
tower of Eaglehurst, seated on the neighbouring shore.

By "permanent attractions," we mean, that many landscapes of the
most romantic character fail to attract our attention for any
considerable time, on _repeated_ visits, if destitute of those
ever-varying circumstances which have in some degree the interest
of NOVELTY such for instance as the rural, and more particularly
th