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in front, and a deep face of perpendicular rock, whose beetling head is crowned with wood. Half-way down this precipice, are seen traces of masonry, in four small windows and some regular arrangements of stone, which prove that human art had exercised itself in this singular spot. They form the facing of an excavation called St. Constantine's cell, consisting of three rooms and a gallery, either the seat of solitary sanctity in superstitious times, or of retreat and safety in violent ones, or perhaps designed for both purposes as occasion might require. The inhabitant at all events might have been sure of resting unmolested in this retreat, since it can only be reached by a path steep, narrow, and perilous, and which, before the wood was cleared away, must also have been invisible. With this object, and the rocky bank on our right, the river before us, and a castellated summer-house crowning the distant eminence, we paced along the margin of the stream for half a mile, when the rock to the right suddenly rears itself to a tremendous height, its perpendicular face embossed in the most singular manner with the knarled roots of some vast and ancient oaks, whose giant arms, aloft in air, stretch themselves over the walk beneath. This grand scene is opposed on the other side by a bank of gentle
