point of the island is a fine barrow and circle. The old seaking has apparently not been left undisturbed in his solitary abode. Some idler, like myself, has turned aside to wrong the quiet of the dead. The puffin breeds, here, and at Menavawr, in great numbers, and we saw their parrot-like forms wheeling around us, as they watched our intrusion on their domain. The young cormorants were so tame that they fought each other before us, and would hardly get out of our way.

Leaving Round Island you cross St. Helen's pool, and reach the island of that name. Here there was once a church and, probably, a monastic establishment. Now it is utterly deserted. Some deer and goats were placed upon it a few years since, but only one of the former is left, and he goes backwards and forwards between this place and Tean. There are still standing the walls of the ancient pest-house.

We next visited Tean, or St. Theona, which is equally uninhabited, though at both there are walls and parts of buildings, some of the enclosures running far into the sea, and giving incontrovertible proof of the former union of if not all, of these now disjointed and separate rocks. Leland speaks of this portion of the group as especially dedicated to religion.

many,

"St. Lide's, whare of old was grate superstition." Some think that St. Lide is a corruption of St. Elid, and that again another form of St. Helen. Tean or Theona, which the erudite historian "much renowned for Greek" makes to be derived from that language, is now inhabited

* Others believe it to be Rat Island.

only by white rabbits, which are very beautiful, and remarkable for their long and silky fur. There is a Druidical circle on a hill called "Yellow carn." The whole place is very picturesque, and though its extent is but thirty-five acres, it consists entirely of hill and dale, and has many and charming views. We sailed from it, round St. Martin's, for the Eastern Isles. The sound is studded with rocks, terribly near the surface. A short time since a box was here washed up, bearing, I think, only the name of "Agnes Ewing." The vessel so called was a large Indiaman, that had left Liverpool for Calcutta. She was never heard of more, nor could any guess be made at her fate, save from this fragment, which was washed ashore at Tean. What a dread reply will be given when the trumpet shall sound, and the angel's voice go forth,

"Give up thy dead, thou sea!"

As we passed through St. Helen's sound, I asked why the Parsonage, which faces the harbour, was built in a situation so exposed to a cold quarter. The reason was particularly Scillonian. Every one formerly smuggled here, and among others, the then clergyman. The cellars of the building are far larger than is necessary, for a very obvious reason, and the house was made to face the north-east, in order that the worthy incumbent might watch the shipping in the pool, and receive, and reply to, any signal. He was obliged to run away, from having been detected in some gross smuggling affair. His sister, who was as great an oddity as himself, died of starvation, though fifty pounds were found in her possession. At her funeral, the parson's cellar was unceremoniously invaded, and a scene ensued only to be

equalled at an Irish wake. Troutbeck the amusing historian of Scilly, whose work is most interesting, left the islands, it is said, from fear of the consequences of a similar offence. In fact, I believe that had the Queen then lived at Scilly, she would have smuggled, like other people.

Doubling St. Martin's, we enter Crow sound and steer direct for the Eastern Isles. These are numerous, and, some of them, large; one, Great Ganilly, containing upwards of sixteen acres. They are distinguished by various names, for which, and for all local particulars, both here and elsewhere, I must beg to refer to North's laborious and exact account, as I only seek to record my impressions, and not the details, of what I see. We landed on the Arthurs, there being three of that name. On Great and Middle Arthur, are several barrows, one very large and capable of containing many persons. The remains of inclosures are visible, but there is now nothing living but lop-eared rabbits and rats. Where we embarked I fancied that I could trace the outline and materials of an antique pier.* The walls too appeared to be very old, almost, as it seemed to me, connected with the circles and barrows. It is really painful to see these vestiges of life and labour, like the dead bones spoken of by the prophet, once instinct with life.

There is nothing remarkable in any of the other rocks, except their picturesque roughness of form, and the fine contrast of the surf, flashing over the blue deep, upon their

I was not mistaken. A patriarch, nearly ninety years old, tells me that this place was formerly called Arthur's quay; and that, according to ancient tradition, whenever one of its stones was by chance removed, some invisible hand always replaced it by night.

grey stones and bright bays of sand. From them you emerge into the great ocean. The light-ship on the ridge called the Seven Stones is before you. On a clear day you can see the Land's-end, and you may lie in the stern of your boat, and muse about the Lionesse. The day is calm, a pair of sea-pies scream to you as you pass; so transparent is the water that, fathom deep beneath, you can distinguish rock from sand. All is repose, and beauty, and tranquillity. You are gliding by Arthur, and look upon its grey boulders. There, however, is a memorial of a different scene. Part of the mast of a large ship lies, broken and forgotten, on the shore. Why is it left there, unclaimed? Ask the tempest, ask the great green monster, over whose bosom you sweep, as it lies smiling and murmuring in the sunlight below!

.

૨૨

CHAPTER XI.

TRESCO. No. 2.

On

HERE is in Tresco so much that is interesting and beautiful that it deserves a residence of some days, to be devoted to exploring it. Considering its very limited size, one is surprised at the variety of its scenery. landing at the harbour, and passing the "Palace," called from the place used for drying pilchards, as is usual hereabouts, you ascend a slope, and reach the pretty little Parsonage. From thence the view is lovely. Old Grimsby harbour, and St. Helen's pool, lie below you, with Dolphin Town, and the neatly arranged church, and the excellent schools. You are surprised at the appearance of all around you. It is not picturesque alone, for the Island of Skye could be that, with all its misery. It is not only retired and undisturbed. It was so in the days of wreckers, when parsons smuggled, and when guagers and duties were

*Not from an Inn of that name as North thinks.
+ "Godolphin."

Both the schools are very good. The mistress of that for infants teaches and manages them admirably.