rst beach and along the shore of the Isle
of Wight, papa remarked that he wished people would be as careful in
guarding their religious and political liberties as they are in throwing
up forts to prevent an enemy from landing on our shores. Many appear to
be fast asleep with regard to the sacred heritage we have received from
our forefathers, and allow disturbers of our peace and faith, under
various disguises, to intrude upon and undermine the safeguards of our
sacred rights and liberties.

Presently we found ourselves in a beautiful little spot called Alum Bay.
The cliffs have not the usual glaring white hue, but are striped with
almost every imaginable colour, the various tints taking a perpendicular
form, ranging from the top of the cliff to the sea. If we could have
transferred the colours to our pallet, I am sure we should have found
them sufficient to produce a brilliant painting. West of the coloured
cliffs is a line of very high white cliffs, extending to the extreme
west point of the island, at the end of which appear the Needle Rocks,
rising almost perpendicularly out of the sea. Once upon a time two of
them were joined with a hollow, or eye, between them, but that portion
gave way at the end of the last century. On the outer rock, by scraping
the side, a platform has been formed, on which stands a high and
beautifully-built lighthouse, erected some years ago. Formerly there
was one on the top of the cliff, but it was so high that it was
frequently obscured by mist, and was not to be seen by vessels steering
for the Needles passage.

As we stood close into the shore, and looked up at the lofty cliffs, we
agreed that it was the grandest and most picturesque scene we had yet
visited.

On the other side of the channel are the Shingles, a dangerous sandbank,
on which many vessels have been lost. A ledge of rocks below the water
runs off from the Needles, known as the Needle Ledge. When a strong
south-westerly wind is blowing, and the tide is running out, there is
here a very heavy sea. Vessels have also been wrecked on the Needles;
and Paul Truck told us how a pilot he once knew well saved the crew of a
vessel which drove in during the night on one of those rocks, which they
had managed to reach by means of the top-gallant yard. Here they
remained until the pilot brought a stout rope, which was hauled up by a
thin line to the top of the rock, and by means of it they all descended
in safety. The pilo