his was a cavern, the rocky roof of which
fell in about thirty-five years ago. Nestling under the middle headland
is the tiny port of Polpeor, the little harbor of the Lizard, a
fishermen's paradise in a small way. Around on the eastern coast of the
peninsula the rocks are also fine, and here are the fishing-villages of
Lizard Town and Landewednack, the latter having a strange old church,
reputed to be the last in which a sermon was preached in the Cornish
tongue. The grave of one of the rectors tells that he lived to be one
hundred and twenty years old, for people live long in this delicious
climate. These villages are devoted to the pilchard-fishery, and during
the season the lookout-men can be seen perched on the cliffs watching
for the approach of a shoal, to warn the fishing-boats that are ready to
put to sea from the sheltered coves below. Great crags are tumbled into
the ocean, and the coast abounds in caves, with occasionally a quarry
for the serpentine. Beyond can be traced the dim outline of the
headlands guarding Falmouth entrance. This is a unique district, whose
rock-bound coast is a terror to the mariner, but a delight to the
geologist and artist, and whose recesses, where the Cornish dialect
still flourishes among the old folk, are about the only places in
England not yet penetrated by the railway, which has gridironed the
British kingdom everywhere else.

[Illustration: POLPEOR.]

[Illustration: ROCKS NEAR THE LIZARD.]

ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT.

[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT.]

The western peninsula of Cornwall juts far out beyond Mount's Bay, which
acquires its name from what is probably the most remarkable crag in all
this wonderful region. This was the Iktis of the ancient geographers, an
object so conspicuous as to attract attention in all ages. It is a mass
of granite rising from the sands, covering about twenty-five acres, and
the top of the church which crowns it is elevated two hundred and
thirty-eight feet. It is impossible by either pen or pencil to give an
adequate idea of St. Michael's Mount--of the shattered masses of the
rock itself, its watch-turrets and batteries, the turf and sea-plants
niched in its recesses, and the gray, lichen-covered towers that rise
from the summit. Cornish tradition says that the giant Cormoran built
the first fortress here; and he is one of those unfortunate giants whose
fate is told under the name of Corincus in the veritable history of Jack
the Giant-k