On a lonely hill," at the western extremity of St. Martin's, are three objects of greater interest than any other on the island. I allude to the circles, or carns, or barrows, for they partake in part of each character, to be seen there. They are very perfect, though many of the stones have been removed for building purposes. Still, enough remains to show the outline. There, beneath those great rocks, lie the hands that once tilled these lands, and the feet that once trod them. These "warriors of the age of hills" tell us a solemn tale. "How, or when, the nation that dwelt here, became extinct," says Borlase, "we have no means of judging." All we know is that they are gone. Their place knows them not. Like those of Petra, who dwelt in the clefts of the rocks, the men of that forgotten brood lie here, on every headland, each in his stern and lonely sepulchre. The arms that piled above them that mass of stones are dust and ashes like themselves. The Emim, and the Avim, and the Zumzummim of Scripture, are as unreal and as indistinct to our sense as these chieftains. I stand now by the opened cell of one of them, and the words of Ossian come upon me with a strange and appropriate truth :—

"Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days? Yet a little while, and the blast of the desert comes; it howls through thy deserted courts, and whistles round thy half-worn shield."

The transition from these dim religious dreams to the cultivation and the cleanliness of High Town is certainly unromantic, but it is scarcely unpleasant. The Spaniards have a proverb which is not mal à propos here; and, indeed,

Called "Cruthers."

it would be difficult to find a circumstance to which they have not applicable some quaint old saw. That which occurs to me now seems at first sight rather alien to the character of that most unpractical and impracticable nation. They say,

"El Primero es el Omnipotente,

Y don dinero es su lugarteniente." "The chief one is the Omnipotent,

And Don Money is his Lieutenant."

I am afraid that even the aspect of this little long rock, resembling what an Irishman once called "The back bone of the world, picked by the Ould One," is a proof of the truth of this saying. The capital spent on these islands by a generous and skilful hand has developed the resources placed within their reach by God. We come down from dreamland, and leave the narrow homes of those to whom worldly good and evil are now alike of no account, and stand in the hollow below High Town, and look upon the many traces of its peace, and plenty. Yet the reputation of the recipients by no means corresponds with these blessings. The people of St. Martin's are said to be the hardest and the most unfeeling of any of the inhabitants of these isles. I have heard some singular stories of their selfishness and want of heart, such as the following. The wife of a sick man, who was very well to do in the world, bought two pounds of meat for making broth. Before it could be put into the pot the husband died, and his spouse, seizing the piece of mutton, ran out of the house, and went round to the neighbours, trying to dispose of it.

We ascended the steep hill, enjoying at once the prospect,

the walk, and the gleamy sunlight that brightened every object around. My companion was one who had a right to take pride in what we beheld. While we toiled up the ascent, walking slowly, and detained by our remarks on what we saw, I was irresistibly reminded of an anecdote which I once heard adduced, as an evidence of Irish wit and readiness. The Duke of Wellington, as every one knows, is extremely punctual, in keeping even the most trifling appointment. He was one day, when in Ireland, going out -I believe to dinner, and the horses being such as they usually are in that ingenious country, where you find everything handy but what you really want, canie nearly to a stand-still. The Duke put his head out of the window, and swore like forty Pictons, and he, it is said, swore like forty dragoons. At last one of the postillions, a fellow with a rich brogue, and an eye worthy of Lazarillo de Tormes, could. stand it no longer. He turned half round on his saddle, and, coolly confronting the angry Duke, addressed him thus:

"Is it weak you call them, the poor bastes? Sure, its not weak they are at all; your Honour well knows that it isn't the carriage that they feel, but it's the weight of your Honour's glory that keeps them back!"

And the rogue beat the Duke, who drew in his head, and held his tongue.

HE chief boatman and pilot of Tresco is waiting for me, to set off on a sailing excursion to Annet, and the islands of the West:

My conductor is himself a curiosity in his way. He is a handsome, dashing sailor, of first-rate skill in his profession, and as civil and obliging as he is trusty. The people of Scilly speak the purest English of any of the Queen's lieges.* Their correctness both of language and of pronunciation is really marvellous. And our coxswain is quite equal to other Scillonians in this accomplishment. From some circumstance, which it was out of his power to avoid, he was a little behind his time, but it was not his fault that he was so. "I am very sorry

to have kept you waiting so long, ma'am," said he, to a lady of our company, you must have thought me very much wanting in courtesy, in fact, quite a deceiver," and he handed

Some of the phrases used are odd: I asked a man how his wife was, and was told that she was quite "clever and easy,”—that is, well. A person "surprised" is said to be "frightened." "Brave and punctual" signifies "firm." "Rich" means

good."

her over the dank sea weed, and slippery rocks, with a manner worthy of Sir Charles Grandison.*

We spread our sails to the wind, and ran gaily through St. Mary's Pool. Here, formerly, lay the frigate of the Grand Duke Cosmo, receiving and returning the salutes of the Castle. A little farther on is the rock on which the Dutch East Indiaman struck and went to pieces, having on board a treasure of two hundred and fifty thousand guilders, many of which have been, and are still, picked up. The lady to whom it belonged was a passenger, and was drowned. She was proceeding to join her husband, and by this sad accident, as the account somewhat quaintly adds, prevented from seeing him again." Onward yet a little more, and we see the scene of the awful disaster that befell the five families, the whole population of St. Agnes, on their return from their wedding excursion. Alas for all these terrible records of wreck and destruction! The sea glances from our bow in a thousand rainbows, catching the sunlight on the crest of every wave. A homeward bound corvette

was

There is a general tone of good breeding in the manners of the Scillonians that strikes a stranger forcibly. They have a self respect which gives them confidence, and real dignity, in the presence of their superiors, and which is very far removed from presumption, or from what is misnamed independence. When a person addresses you, it is with no assertion of equality, and yet there is, in the air of people of the lower orders here, a something indefinable, but striking, and very different from the subdued demeanour of the English peasantry. If you go into a cottage, you observe the same thing. The owner, whether man or woman, does the honours of the house without embarrassment, hands you a chair with quiet civility, and gives you a simple welcome, with the self possession of one who knows the place both of the visitor, and of the host. I certainly never saw in humble life so much good taste, so much what may be really termed well-bred ease, as at Scilly.

Y