oric remains, but Carn
Brea is the more interesting in this respect, for its cairn, whose
lower layer held the bones of some Stone Age chieftain, was crowned at
the summit by a Christian oratory. It is a great pity that this
chapel, probably one of the oldest religious structures in the
kingdom, was not preserved. Above the Stone Age burial was a dolmen of
the Bronze Age; and above this were layers that told of Romano-British
civilisation. But the antiquities of this district really need a book
to themselves. When we reach Cape Cornwall we are in the immediate
neighbourhood of mining again, and the fine headland itself is crowned
with an old mine-stack. Its formation gives Cape Cornwall the
appearance of reaching even farther westward than Land's End, and the
view from its summit is grandly impressive. This is the parish
of St. Just-in-Penwith (so called to distinguish it from St.
Just-in-Roseland). Mr. Hind thinks St. Just the dreariest town in
Cornwall, and its best friends do not call it lovely; but there is a
rather interesting Perpendicular church, with some earlier relics, and
there is also a _plan-an-guare_, like the Planguary of Redruth--an
old-world amphitheatre, first used for sports and later for
miracle-plays. The name means "place of play." It is now used for
religious and other meetings. The moorland country here is barren and
windswept, with disfigurations from mining; and the dismal summit of
Cam Kenidzhek is haunted with queer traditions. This is the "carn of
the howling wind" or the "hooting cairn," covered with traces of the
immemorial past and feared in old days as a special domain of evil
spirits. About a mile westward is the old Botallack mine, perhaps the
most famous in all Cornwall, which reached to the sea and considerably
beyond; it was long closed, and the decayed buildings had quite a
romantic appearance on the wild, bare cliffs, but the revival of
Cornish minings has brought a new activity. The old workings run for
about a third of a mile below the sea, and it is said that the pitmen
were often terrified by the roar of the waves above their heads,
dashing the loose boulders of rock. But the great Levant mine, a
little over a mile northward, runs for about a mile beneath the sea,
being worked for tin, copper, and arsenic. Once, not many years since,
the sea actually broke into its workings. This is mining, indeed, in
all its grimmest reality, and the arsenic-working in particular has a
bad ef