feature, and expression, are Celtic. You can distinguish rustics from miners and fishers: the latter have the look of men accustomed to reflect and observe, to find in themselves resources against emergencies. Lord Exmouth, when Captain Pellew, once sailed from Plymouth with a crew composed chiefly of Cornish miners. That the Celtic blood prevails is perhaps the reason why a strong spirit of distinct nationality is still cherished in Cornwall. Not more than ten years ago a speaker at a scientific meeting at Falmouth argued that the county should be treated as an island, and mourned for the days when it had forty-four representatives all to itself, instead of only fourteen, as now. As though little towns that could not keep themselves from decay were qualified to assist in the national councils. The motto One and all! betokens a clannish feeling. Some two hundred and fifty years ago, when their language was dying out, "driven into the uttermost skirts of the shire," and scarcely one was acquainted with it, they would still, if accosted in English, reply in a short phrase which meant-"I can speak no Saxonage." I have sometimes fancied the Dym Sassenach one hears in North Wales at the present day to be a similar instance of proud reserve. In ardent loyalty to the Stuarts the Cornishmen showed their affinity with the Celts of the north: Charles's letter may still be seen on the walls of some of the village churches. But loyalty gave way to patriotism when James shut up Bishop Trelawny with the other prelates in the Tower. One and all! was again the cry, for the bishop came of one of the most ancient Cornish families, and the high-wrought feeling found expression in the spirited song: And shall they scorn Tre, Pol, and Pen? and shall Trelawny die? "Out spake their captain, brave and bold, A merry wight was he: 'If London Tower were Michael's Hold, We'd set Trelawny free. We'll cross the Tamar land to land, The hills shall be no stay; All side by side, and hand to hand, And who shall bid us nay ?' And shall they scorn Tre, Pol, and Pen? and shall Trelawny die? "And when we come to London wall, Our coming they shall rue : 'Come forth, come forth, ye cowards all To better men than you!' Trelawny lies in keep and hold, Trelawny he may die, But here's twenty thousand Cornish bold Will know the reason why. And shall they scorn Tre, Pol, and Pen? and shall Trelawny die?! The burden of this song, says Mr. Macaulay, is "yet remembered." He would have said more than the burden, had he ever heard a Cornish lass sing it, as many a one can, with a voice and spirit that would make him wish he were a Cornishman himself. The clannish feeling exhibits itself at times with violent demonstrations in the mining districts on the banks of the Tamar, where Devon and Cornwall meet. Fierce disputes break out between the miners of the two counties, and the Cornish raise the old slogan to animate themselves for the fray. And when that aged dame, Mary Kelynack, walked to London to see the Great Exhibition, and Burnard, struck by the expression of character in her face, requested leave to take her bust, she replied, with a hearty laugh, "Oh, bless your heart, my dear! if you be a Cornishman you may do what you like with me; for I'll stick up for the Cornish as long as I've a drop of blood left in my body;" emphasizing the latter words by a thump on the table. The bust was made; and when exhibited at the Polytechnic meeting at Falmouth, Cornwall felt prouder than ever of her sculptor's genius. While walking about Truro, Boscawen-street will remind you of a gallant admiral; and the Red Lion Hotel of Samuel Foote, for in that house the English Aristophanes, as his contemporaries called him, is said to have been born; but Polwhele, also a native, mentions another house as that in which the humourist made his first appearance in the world. Here, too, were born those meritorious travellers, Richard and John Lander; the first to descend the Niger and clear of its union with the sea. up the mystery A handsome granite column, erected in a commanding situation at the end of Lemon-street, perpetuates their memory; and remembering what the brothers were, and what they did, you will hardly fail to stay a few minutes to look at the statue of Richard Lander standing on the capital. From Truro by a long ascent and descent, past the tin smelting-works at Calenick, and you are at Carnon, crossing the creek on an embankment, once more in presence of busy mining operations. Numerous excavations still show how keen has been the search for metal hereabouts. There was something to reward the search-one of the richest beds of stream-tin in Cornwall. Stream-tin, as its name indicates, is deposited by the action of running water, and is generally found at the bottom of valleys and along the courses of streams. Floods sweeping over and bursting from the hills in past ages have washed away the decomposed rock, laid bare the veins of tin, and brought it down in grains, pebbles, and nuggets; small as sand, and up to ten pounds in weight. Rocky nuggets have been found weighing two hundred pounds. In some places, as here at Carnon, the deposit is covered by beds of seasand and river-mud, intermingled with twigs and roots of trees. At Pentuan, bones of the red-deer and human skulls were found among the other refuse: a discovery which has suggested important conclusions as to the elevation of the land in this part of England. It is remarkable that all the tin-streams are on the southern side of the county, while the richest veins are all on the north: a fact which indicates the direction of the tin-bearing current. Traces of its action are met with all the way from Dartmoor to the Land's End. Here at Carnon the deposit of "tin-stones" was so valuable, in some places twelve feet thick, that the waters of the creek were dammed out to a considerable distance, to enable the miners to excavate the bed. But one day the tide broke in and stopped the proceedings; and now other means will have to be devised for the extraction of the long-buried treasure. For some distance around the land is curiously interpenetrated by water; straggling arms from the head of the deep inlet which lower down expands into Falmouth Harbour. The many bends and reaches are puzzling to a stranger. Here and there a few pleasant snatches of scenery remain, where the hill-sides have been left unmutilated, with their trees growing down to the tortuous shore. Some of the reaches form a snug anchorage, where Norwegian ships discharge their cargoes of timber, for use in the mines; the demand being incessant. The quantity of Norway pine required every year for constructions on the surface, and for supports below, is indeed enormous: one hundred and fifty thousand trees a year, requiring one hundred and forty square miles of forest to keep up the supply. Here, too, is the outlet of the great adit which drains the mines of a large district as far as Redruth. Its importance to the underground operations may be inferred from the fact that its main branches alone are said to comprise a length of thirty miles; while the discharge of water, as ascertained by observations made at different seasons, is from one thousand to two thousand cubic feet a minute. The mouth of the adit is thirty-nine feet above the sealevel in a valley communicating with the creek. A good deal of ingenuity is exhibited in getting full duty out of the water-making it turn as many wheels as possible before it is finally allowed to run to waste. Arsenic in its crude form is found in most of the mines of Cornwall; and here are the works for converting it into a marketable commodity. You will have little desire to witness the process should you meet some of the men employed, who, with ugly knots or deadly sores on the exposed parts of their skin, show proof of its malignant effects. Woe to the man who perspires while exposed to the poisonous fumes: a sore is the inevitable consequence, and he is at all times liable to injury in the armpits. Another surprise awaits you half a mile farther, at |