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on your right, as though porpoises were spouting. The streams issue from slits in a rock, under which the water has free play from one side of the Island to the other, as is believed; and the swell of a wave and compression of the air produce the phenomenon in question. It occurs at intervals of about a minute, and is best seen at half-tide. The large slit is called the Bellows; the smaller one, a few inches higher, the Post-office: the latter because of a sudden and powerful indraught of air that takes place in the intervals of the spoutings, which carries in with a snort a piece of

paper or any

loose substance held near the orifice.

A few yards more of rock, and then an easy ascent to the top, where you may recline at ease on the soft, springy turf, and contemplate the majestic features of the view. The character of the scenery is indeed extraordinary; made more impressive by the two lofty headlands which shut in the cove. Around you grow the wild asparagus, and a variety of flowers, ferns, and samphire. The presence of samphire conveys an assurance that the rocks on which it grows are never covered by the sea. Though it thrives within range of the spray, it is always beyond reach of the tide; and there is a story extant that a party of shipwrecked sailors once kept themselves from despair, clinging to the rock on which they were cast in a stormy night, from one of the number being acquainted with this peculiarity. Looking outwards you see the tall pinnacled mass of Gull Rock—the Mont Blanc of daring tourists—who contrive to get across the channel that separates it from the Island and climb to the summit; where they are rewarded by a peep down a hole called the Devil's Throat. Some have left upright stones standing on the angles of the

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crags to remain as memorials of their exploit; but while the top of the Rill—a much greater elevation-is accessible, the ascent of Gull Rock becomes only a venturesome feat. You will need to be cautious in descending from the Island by the track on the eastern side; making sure of one foothold before you release the other. There are caves in the base which may be explored at low water; at all events, you will do well to examine the serpentine, for nowhere else will you see it so full of colour and so varied as in the cliffs round the cove. What a contrast between the waterworn masses and those which lie about on the downs; the former polished, with every stain brought out; the latter covered with a scaly coat, rough and rusty.

Refreshments are sold at a little tenement facing the sea, and specimens of serpentine and other local rarities. And in order that the visitor shall not escape, a guide's cottage, a mile or two distant, on the road to Helstone, notifies SERPENTINE SOLD HERE: a clever trap for parties on their way to Kynance.

Our time expired. I shook hands with the lightkeeper, not without hope of some day meeting him again. The sight of his face would be as welcome to me as that of his lantern to the homeward-bound mariner. He went up one side of the valley; I, the other. The view from the top of the Rill is particularly striking: to the east a panorama of the coast you have travelled for miles; to the west, the broad expanse of Mount's Bay, St. Michael's Mount, and away towards the Land's End. No more looking forward to a week's ramble along the cliffs, with daily change, when the ultimate point is almost within sight.

I wished to get to Penzance the same evening, and

had therefore to see all I could without losing time. The Apron String, as a jumble of stones lying on the summit is called, required no second glance; and away I strode for Pradanack Downs, getting a brief glimpse of the approach to Gue Graze, in which stands the famous Soap Rock. Next, Vellan Head on the left; then Pradanack Head, a rival to Penolver, and on to Mullion, past Gunwalloe church, and so to the outlet of Loo Pool; getting over ground in three hours that should have had a whole day. Trees become more numerous, and the landscape more cheerful, soon after the boundary of the serpentine is passed. Loo Pool is a remarkable lake, lying in a hollow formed by a sudden dip of the land, separated from the sea only by a low pebbly beach, through which the water oozes slowly away and maintains its average level. But in rainy seasons, when the Cober and other streams which feed the lake pour in superabundant tribute, the discharge becomes inadequate, the water rises, floods the shores, stops the mills; and then, in compliance with ancient custom, a purse containing threehalfpence having been presented to the lord of the manor, leave is obtained for cutting through the bar of pebbles. Labourers set to work: a passage is dug; the waters begin to run, and presently gaining strength, the irresistible outflow scours the channel and carries all before it with such impetuosity, that the discoloration of the water has been observed as far as the Scilly Isles. For a time the communication with the sea remains open, and the rising tide mingles with the lake; but a westerly gale replaces the pebbles, and the Pool gradually resumes its ordinary limits-about two miles in length and from two to six furlongs in width.

Standing on the bar, a mere strip at high water, the ocean on this side, the lake on that, a singular impression is produced on the mind. The barrier seems so frail that you half expect to see it give way, and admit the invading waters to form a spacious estuary. Sundry projects have been formed for securing the influx of the sea, and keeping the mouth open ; but hitherto without effect.

Helstone, three miles distant, is just visible at the extremity of the hollow; and the hill-slopes on either side being covered in places with plantations, the eye

is refreshed by the sight of verdure. It is a pleasant walk by the side of the lake and through Penrose Park to the town: you will see diminutive oaks of grotesque appearance; pretty nooks hung with ferns, revealed by the winding of the road; and quiet bays, where patient anglers fish for trout.

I got to Helstone just as the omnibus was starting for Penzance; a lucky chance, as it secured my being in time for the packet to Scilly the next morning. Now the mile-stones indicated the distance to the Land's End, and every mile brought us nearer, inspiring a feeling which cheered a ride for the most part uninteresting. We passed through Breage (pronounced Brague); saw wheat-fields and mining works; and, on quitting Marazion, had a capital view of St. Michael's Mount and the grand sweep of the Bay.

Penzance, with the cupola of its town-hall rising above the houses, looks best at a distance. The main street is but a shambling thoroughfare; and when you see where the domed edifice is built, you will believe the townsfolk to be as indifferent to space and light as their ancestors were. Let them bear the reproach ! But higher up the hill you pass from the old town to the new, inclined to be satisfied with improvements, which, as at Falmouth, indicate the reverse of that decay apparent in some of the coast towns through which you have passed. Considering that about the middle of the last century the people here refused to have the mail-road extended to their town, that they possessed but one cart and one carpet, and not a single silver fork, and saw no other newspaper than the Sherborne Mercury, as Dr. Davy tells us in the Life of his brother, it must be admitted that Penzance has made satisfactory progress.

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