itself again upon the water within our field of vision. We saw only two bathing machines; but there were some lodging-houses of modest dimensions, and two good hotels, pleasantly situate, not far from the sea. We came also to a lifeboat station, where a good-looking lifeboat in its own house was in the care of a sailor. Near it, upon the sea-wall, was a very long and broad net, used for herring fishing, laid to dry. The fish chiefly taken off the coast here is the pilchard, and the fishermen of Penzance go to the fishing grounds off Whitby and thereabouts to exercise their calling. Further west, or south-west, is a village called Newlyn, occupied by fishermen and their families and such people as are dependent upon them. We walked nearly thither, and then, turning back, went along a piece of good road, called Alexandra Road, newly planted with trees on both sides. A drinking fountain at the entrance bears an inscription commemorative of the opening and naming of the road by the Princess of Wales, on the 24th of July, 1865. We reached a highway, by which, turning to the right towards the town, we soon came to a little roadside inn, called "THE FIRST AND LAST.' In all probability there was no other inn between this inn, when first it was opened, and the Land's End; so that it would then be the first inn for a traveller from that point, and the last for one going thither. Two empty and unhorsed omnibuses stood at the door, kept, no doubt, for the accommodation of excursionist visitors. Continuing our walk, at a short distance we came to a large, substantial, quadrangular building of stone, in which are a museum, the police offices, and some other apartments for public use. We were too tired to enter and explore it; so went forwards, and to our comfort and joy, were immediately at our hotel, glad of rest. We dined at a little beyond half-past two, the time we had fixed for dinner. We had a loin of delicious lamb, with kidney beans and potatoes, followed by apple tart and Cornwall cream. The latter they will not call Devonshire cream, because it is a product of their own county and they will not give to Devon the honour that Cornwall may equally claim. After dinner we were glad to rest awhile in our rooms. When we first went out in the morning we passed through the shambles, which, though the day was not the regular market-day, were abundantly supplied with first-rate meat. On inquiring prices, we found them much lower than in London, and the large manufacturing towns of the midland and northern districts. Legs of mutton were 94d. and 10d. per pound, and legs of pork 74d; inferior joints proportionably lower. We were surprised at the quantity displayed on an ordinary day. A little lower than the market-house is the Post Office, in front of which is a fine statue of Sir Humphrey Davy, who was a native of Penzance. A short stroll in the evening by two of us sufficed for the day. Saturday, October 6th, was a very beautiful day, and a day of rare enjoyment as well as sufficient fatigue. We wanted to make the best of our time, and to see as much of the country as we could. We hired a carriage-and-pair at our hotel, and went a round that comprised several points and objects of celebrity and interest; and among them coast scenery of the boldest and most romantic character. We started at a quarter past nine o'clock for St. Just, and in going thither we rose to an elevation that commanded a very extensive prospect, embracing the whole of Penzance Bay, St. Michael's Mount, and a sweep of country inland; and then, a little further, we had before us the Bristol and St. George's Channels, with an expanse of sea bounded only by the horizon. We passed through extensive moorland, and some peat grounds, having upon them a few small stacks of peat here and there; but the most common fuel observable was gorse, or furze, piled in stacks wherever there were dwellings. We saw very few cattle, as few sheep, three or four beautifully white goats in one place. only, but many herds of black pigs, and many flocks of fine geese. Other poultry were not plentiful, and only in two or three places were ducks. The people and their dwellings were as much as possible like those of Wales. Everything except the language reminded us of Wales. The Cornish language has died out. It was a branch of the Celtic, like the Welsh, Irish, Manx, and Gaelic: but English has displaced the Cornish tongue. There was none of the shyness that distinguishes the people of some parts of Wales; a shyness that may be attributable to difference of language, and that may also be partly consequent on the traditional influence of former military conflict and eventual conquest. The Welsh are free enough in their communications with each other, and the Cornish are so with strangers also. There is a peculiarity of idiom and expression in the English spoken by the natives of Cornwall. Our driver used the third person singular for the plural number as well as the singular of each person, indiscriminately. The roads are good, but in some places very steep, and in villages and towns twisted about, like those of Wales. St. Just reminded me, in that respect, of Dolgelley. One of its houses that we passed had a front stone bearing the date of 1665. All the houses are of hard, rough stone, roofed with the stone of the country, and all built in the same style as those of Wales. Even the windows and doors are of the same character and dimensions. Our driver took us direct to the Botallack mine, where we found the process of pulverising the tin ore, and washing the pulverised tin to free it from earthy mixture. The overlooker told us that the yield of tin is not more than two per cent. from the whole bulk of ore, the fine particles of tin being incorporated with granite. There is an admixture of iron, but not of sufficient quantity to be worth smelting, because of the dearness of coal. The iron yields a vast quantity of red colouring to the water, and comes away in an impalpable black powder, leaving the residuum of tin to form itself into a thin heap by its specific gravity. When accumulated in sufficient quantity, it is dug out of the washing basins, put into bags, and carted away to Penzance to be smelted. There were men at work at the washing mill and one girl. The manager told us the girl was paid ninepence a day, and the men only about 2s. 4d. Those who work under ground, getting the ore, are not paid at a higher rate, or but little higher if any. Who can wonder that such labourers emigrate to the opposite side of the globe when they can? Their condition is very pitiable. Some years ago the mine extended about half-a-mile under the sea. The Prince and Princess of Wales were here a few years since, and went down into the mine, descending in an iron carriage used by the miners, which is now a dilapidated frame of rusty iron, kept in a yard on the surface, and which was shown to us. Subsequently to the visit of their Royal Highnesses, the sea broke in and flooded the mine; so that it had to be abandoned. The entrance to it is now boarded up, and the works to seaward, along the face of the lofty and rugged rocks, are mostly in ruins. This once celebrated mine is a mere wreck. The rocks and abandoned works have a wild, savage, weird look, upon which the imagination might work until it had associated spells and demons with the demolition and ruin spread around. The swell and dash and roar of the waves below complete the enchantment. The coast is very rough, and bare rocks everywhere confront the sea, rising to a great height, with jagged ribs and frowning aspect. As a mining county, Cornwall is half ruined. Tin commanded a high price for some time, reaching as high as £96 a ton: but mines have been discovered in Australia and Tasmania, of so rich an ore and in such abundance, that they have undermined those of this county; the price of tin now being down to £34 a ton-not much more than one-third of what it was at one time, Leaving this desolate mine, we drove to Sennen, the last village in the west of England, containing the last church, and at the present time the last fixed hotel. Proceeding two miles further, we reached the Land's End; near which there stands now a season hotel, newer than the one at Sennen; at which however, we could obtain nothing but Allsopp's ale. We might have had mutton chops by previous order; but thinking our stay would not be long, we declined to wait for their being cooked. Breadand-cheese were proffered, and we expected some would be brought; but none made its appearance: so we did without, and availed ourselves of some grapes brought from the home vinery. There were several conveyances besides ours at the Land's End; two of them being public, at fixed fares; and others, like ours, hired for the occasion. We spent more time than we had expected in rambling about the rocks and cliffs; the invalid resting on the sward and enjoying the sea air and scenery, all of us admiring its romantic and beautiful features. The rocks near us, the Longships and lighthouse, the other rocks and lighthouse to the north, the charming green of the sea and play of its white surf-a succession of pictures of manifold and combined beautyexcited intense interest, and afforded uncommon enjoyment. Historical associations and recollections of the past increased the pleasurable emotion, though not without some touches of the melancholic at the thought of the ravages of time, and the numerous wrecks of noble ships and loss of human life and property so near to where we were rambling. The " narrow neck of land" on which the Wesleys stood a century or more ago, has disappeared. Since the time of my own visit, nearly twenty years ago, or perhaps a little more, there has been washed away the narrow projection of rock upon which I then stood. We now look sheer down the rocky cliff into the sea. The detached mass of rocks, also, between the land and the Longships, seems to me considerably diminished since that time. The sea must have an awful force here in a storm ; and it is a universal fact, that however mighty the rocky barriers of a coast, the sea makes inroads upon them, devouring the land wheresoever the two are in conflict. Taking our departure, we passed to the right of Sennen, and through the little village of Treen, where there is a small Wesleyan chapel. Along our road there are telegraph posts-some of wood and some iron-supporting three wires; one of which is connected with the Scilly Islands, passing under the sea, and the other two communicate with the Mediterranean Sea, India, Australia, and other parts of the globe. There is a telegraph station where there is constantly in training a large number of clerks for telegraph service abroad. Whenever a few of these are removed for telegraph service in India or elsewhere, new-comers take their places. We drove onward to another little village where are a little inn and a Wesleyan chapel. Our horses were unharnessed, and we obtained a little dry bread and bad water. The latter we tried to make palatable with a small quantity of poor whisky. If any teetotal brother blame us for this, I would have him go to the place and try the water there: or, if more convenient, he may go to Fleetwood and make the like experiment, unless that place is now supplied with better water than it was thirty years ago. From this place we crossed several fields along a path to the renowned Logan Stone. We fell in with a man who told us the little chapel we had observed was used for a preaching service on a week evening once a fortnight, but only occasionally on a Sunday. Methodists may think of that, and try not to be over dainty in their tastes as to the preaching they get, nor over exacting upon preachers. Our informant spoke highly of his own father as a Local Preacher among the Bible Christians, whose ministry he himself attends, and whose cause he helps to support; but he is not a member of the body. I spoke to him seriously on the subject of membership. He admitted what I said to be right; and he promised to give the matter serious thought. I shook hands with him at parting, and told him the LORD had perhaps sent me to speak to him about it. Continuing our progress, we came to a vast mass of towering rocks, intersected by a path, which we threaded without hesitation. We felt all the more confidence from observing a dog on the top of a lofty rock, looking out and watching us. We felt sure, therefore, that the animal would not be in such a place alone, but that someone of our own species would be there. Two men soon appeared, one of whom had a handful of small photos for sale: the other pointed out the Logan Stone, and helped one of us to climb the rocks up to it, and then stood by him whilst he moved it. There is no difficulty in moving this immense block of weatherworn granite rock, although its weight is said to be little less than seventy tons. Standing at some distance, upon a mighty mass of rock, I observed the motion distinctly. From that position we had a good view of the sandy cove where the telegraph wires dip into the sea for their foreign destination. We had a very pleasant run from the little village, through St. Buryan, back to Penzance, which we entered by Newlyn and the Esplanade. We all were thoroughly tired, and very hungry. We enjoyed our tea, together with suitable solids. Biography. MEMOIR OF JOHN PAINE. (Concluded from page 18.) His diary still continues, though not so frequently; doubtless for want of time; but he often refers to his Sabbath labours, how greatly he was blessed in his "work of faith and labour of love." There was a very small Wesleyan cause at Tingewick, two miles from the farm. He was appointed class leader there, and long and earnestly did he wrestle with God for ground on which a sanctuary should be built. He writes, Feb. 1st, 1863, "We have laid the foundation of the chapel and vestry at Tingervick; may the Lord prosper it. I find little help at present. I want much faith; feel much tried about it in my present temporal circumstances; but 'salvation is of the Lord."" He took the greatest interest in its completion, thought nothing too much that he could do to help forward the work; and the following December he had the joy of being present at the opening services, conducted by the Rev. Henry Fish. Many were the happy seasons he enjoyed there, often delighting to sing "The hill of Zion yields A thousand sacred sweets; |