elow these
crags fish are so plentiful that whoever takes the trouble to cast is
likely to reap a rich reward.

But he who would fall in love with the Scillies before seeing them had
better read the first half of Besant's _Armorel of Lyonesse_. The
novelist was at his best when he wrote these pages. There is also good
literary use of the islands in Mr. Mason's _Watchers_. It is possible
that the first arrival will disappoint; it should not be expected that
Scilly can compare with the magnificent coast scenery of the mainland,
or with the verdant luxuriance of richer soils. But the spot has its
own special charm of effect and atmosphere, which it may not surrender
at once to its casual guest. The visitor must wait till he has seen it
in ruddy dawns and purple or golden sunsets, under chequered skies, or
wreathed in mysteries of sea-fog. He may then come to believe that
when saints of old legend touched on Islands of the Blest, situate
somewhere westward of Europe, they may really have simply drifted on
Scilly, and have found its loveliness like that of the "island-valley
of Avilion." Some small concession must be made to actuality. Large
portions of the isles are treeless down, salt-marshes, sand-hills; we
must not look for the wondrous native vegetation of an English
country-side. Sub-tropic plants cannot wholly compensate for such a
lack. But if trees are scarce, plants like the fuchsia grow to
tree-like luxuriance; there is a rich abundance of ferns, while both
the land and the marine flora are very rich. There is much to come
for, and those who come must be willing to brave a passage that may be
exceedingly unpleasant. When Dr. Benson, then Bishop of Truro, and
afterwards Archbishop, paid his single visit to the Scillies, his
episcopal dignity was entirely overwhelmed by the direst woes of
sea-sickness. On landing, he is reported to have said that before he
started he feared he would be drowned; when half-way across he prayed
that he might be; and now his one thought was how in the world should
he get back again.

CHAPTER XI

FROM LAND'S END TO ZENNOR

The western promontory of granite to which we give the name of Land's
End is not the grandest piece of coast in these parts; but it has the
prestige of a deep sentiment attaching to it, and there is no other
spot in England that draws visitors with such a powerful attraction.
In one sense the Scillies are the true Land's End, beyond which the
deeper gulfs