What a sliding, slipping, torn, and rugged ruinous heap is that far-famed Copt Point itself, with its ravines of shattered clay-splinters, and its shivering peaks and promontories. How the rotten clay breaks and crumbles away beneath your foot-tread, and goes scattering down in multitudes of leaping, racing, bounding chips on to the hard and sea-worn rocks below. Pyritous casts of Ammonites, amber-like Belemnites, and phosphatic casts of Nuculæ, with their two prominent muscle-marks, strew the cindery-looking ground; while here and there, like horny flakes, are the thin angular shell-pieces of Pollicipes.