as she rises and sinks in the broad-backed swell; but there is
something more than pleasant, there is something deeply and
peculiarly interesting, in the same scene when viewed from such a
position as the Bell Rock; for there, owing to the position of the
rock and the depth of water around it, the observer beholds, at the
same moment, the presence, as it were, of storm and calm.

The largest waves there are seen immediately after a storm has passed
away, not during its continuance, no matter how furious the gale may
have been, for the rushing wind has a tendency to blow down the
waves, so to speak, and prevent their rising to their utmost height.
It is when the storm is over that the swell rises; but as this swell
appears only like large undulations, it does not impress the beholder
with its magnitude until it draws near to the rock and begins to feel
the checking influence of the bottom of the sea. The upper part of
the swell, having then greater velocity than the lower part, assumes
more and more the form of a billow. As it comes on it towers up like
a great green wall of glittering glass, moving with a grand, solemn
motion, which does not at first give the idea of much force or
impetus. As it nears the rock, however, its height (probably fifteen
or twenty feet) becomes apparent; its velocity increases; the top,
with what may be termed gentle rapidity, rushes in advance of the
base; its dark green side becomes concave; the upper edge lips over,
then curls majestically downwards, as if bowing to a superior power,
and a gleam of light flashes for a moment on the curling top. As yet
there is no sound; all has occurred in the profound silence of the
calm, but another instant and there is a mighty crash--a deafening
roar; the great wall of water has fallen, and a very sea of churning
foam comes leaping, bursting, spouting over rocks and ledges,
carrying all before it with a tremendous sweep that seems to be