le incident in its career, when a wild officer
of the navy displaced it from its pivot by means of seamen and crowbars,
and was thereafter ordered to replace it (a herculean task, which he
accomplished at great cost) on pain of we know not what penalties. But,
as we make no pretensions to the important office of a guide, we pass
this lion by, with the remark that Oliver and his friend visited it and
rocked it, and then went back to Penberth Cove to sup on pilchards,
after which followed a chat, then bed, sound sleep, daybreak and
breakfast, and, finally, the road to Penzance, with bright sunshine,
light hearts, and the music of a hundred larks ringing in the sky.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

SMALL TALK AND SOME ACCOUNT OF CORNISH FAIRIES.

"What a splendid country for a painter of cliffs!" observed Oliver, as
the friends walked briskly along; "I wonder much that our artists do not
visit it more frequently."

"Perhaps they find metal more attractive nearer home," replied
Tregarthen; "all the world has not fallen so violently in love with
furze-clad moorland and rugged sea-cliffs as you seem to have done.
Besides, the country is somewhat remote. Mayhap when a railway runs
into it, which will doubtless be the case before many years pass by, we
shall see knights of the brush pitching their white tents on the Land's
End; meanwhile we have a few promising young men of our own who bid fair
to rival the great Opie himself. You have heard of him, of course?"

"I have heard of him indeed, and seen some of his works, but I'm ashamed
to confess that, having left Cornwall when very young, and been a
dweller in the far north of the kingdom ever since, I have only known
the facts that he was a celebrated Cornish artist, and became the
President of the Royal Academy. Can you tell me anything of his
personal history?"

"Not much, but I can give you a brief outline of his career. John Opie
was the son of a carpenter of St. Agnes, near Truro, and was discovered
and extracted, like a `bunch' of rich ore, from the midst of the
tin-mines, by Dr Wolcot--who was celebrated under the name of Peter
Pindar. The doctor first observed and appreciated Opie's talent, and,
resolving to bring him into notice, wrote about him until he became
celebrated as the `Cornish Wonder.' He also introduced people of note
to the artist's studio in London, many of whom sat for their portraits.
These gave so much satisfaction that the reputation of the `Corni