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had also to take into account the risk to the tugs, which were of a total value of £16,700. The wind was a strong breeze, but it was foggy, and the coast was most dangerous. The captain had very properly engaged the tugs to help the lifeboats, for if any lives had been lost through delay he and his company would have incurred just censure, and he therefore very properly took every step to land all on board as quickly as possible. The tugs could not have come where they did without risk, though the danger may not have been very great on account of their skilful navigation. The lifeboat-men and Mr. Vivian had made light of the danger, but they were extremely courageous men, accustomed to risk their lives; and though they did a very valuable work and could very probably have saved all the lives without the tugs, it would only have been with much greater fatigue and additional risk. It was noteworthy that one of the Suevic's boats was stove in, and another, after landing a number of women and children at Polpear Point, thought it safer not to return to the wreck. The work was well done and expeditiously. It was said the value of the Suevic was £55,000 and her cargo £210,000, but he took little account of that in life salvage or of the saving of the specie; the number of people taken from the wreck was the chief factor, and he then made the award already given.

The precipices around the Lizard Lighthouse are of black rocks, and several tiny sandy bays nestle in their wild embrace, quite shut off from the land side in consequence, and only approachable from the sea. One pretty cove, however, has a path made down to it, and this is Housel Bay, which is the bathing-place of the Lizard. At its head stands a large solitary house, Housel Bay Hotel, which dominates the cliff at the top, and is austere-looking in its clothing of grey stones, slate roof, and red-brick chimneys. On the east of this bay is the Lloyd's signal-station and to the west the lighthouse. A rocky point just below the hotel has a large natural arch right through it, and makes a fine picture at all states of the tide and weather.

The coast is dangerous for children, as the cliffs are entirely unprotected and the precipices around quite sheer in places. Housel Bay is about a quarter of a mile across, and the sand looks dirty, but it is not, the dark colour being due to the

detritus of the black rocks which run out on either side into the deep water.

In one of these rocky coves at the Lizard Point I saw the wreck of a ketch, the Fanny, which had recently taken place. She had discharged her coal at Cadgwith, and with three men on board had taken to the rocks here, when, being light, she drifted close inshore. Curiously enough, she refused the help of the rocket apparatus which was brought to her assistance, but the men got off safely, and she drifted on to her last resting-place immediately below Lloyd's signal-station—a signally inappropriate place, one would imagine, for a wreck.

In the natural amphitheatre below Lloyd's, fronting on a rocky, precipitous little bay, a Morris-tube rifle practiceground has been laid out, which gives an unusual appearance to the wildness of the spot.

The church of the Lizard is Landewednack, which means the white-roofed church, or church of St. Wednoc. It lies in a sheltered position three-quarters of a mile to the west of Lizard Town, surrounded by trees, and is the most southerly church in England. About midway between Lizard Town and the church, at a point where the side road to Landewednack branches off from the main road, is a cross of the usual Celtic design-rudely round head on a thick shaft, the whole formed out of one block of granite. There are far fewer crosses about this part of Cornwall than the Land's End district, and therefore this one is worthy of notice.

The church is situated in a little heterogeneous collection of umbrageous cottages which is dignified with the name of Lizard Churchtown. After passing the church, on the left-hand side, a lovely avenue of trees leads directly upon some of the prettiest cottages artist can imagine, and then the road, making a sharp turn to the right, ends abruptly after some fifty yards at the sea at charming Lizard Church Cove. The whole of this spot-church, cottages, avenue of trees, tiny bay—forms a delightful picture, one that stands out in the memory from many other beauty spots in Cornwall.

Opposite the church, in the lane, are some remarkably large, tall tamarisk trees which are particularly graceful,

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especially in the flowering season. The originator of this plantation at Lizard Churchtown is said to have been brought hither by a carter from St. Michael's Mount, who, having lost his whip, gathered a rod at that place, and when he arrived here at the end of his journey stuck it in the hedge and forgot all about it. This plant, with its greyish-green delicate foliage, always grows well by the sea, and if the leaves are tasted they will be found to have a distinct salt flavour.

As the churchyard is entered, on the left is a bare patch of land on which grow five fine elm trees, in a straight

row.

These were planted on the spot where, in 1645, the bodies of those who died of the plague in Landewednack were buried.

In that year the clergyman of the place, Mr. Robert Sampson, also died of the plague. About a hundred years afterwards the ground was opened to receive the bodies of a number of shipwrecked mariners, upon which the plague reappeared, but in a milder form. In consequence of this, trees were planted upon the plot of land to mark it out for ever, so that it shall never be reopened.

I remember hearing of a similar case at Beer, near Seaton. A number of plague victims were buried in the churchyard, and when, long after, the plot was reopened for fresh interments, the plague broke out afresh.

The porch of Landewednack Church is a fine specimen of Norman architecture in a fair state of preservationthanks to the preservative properties of numerous layers of whitewash with which the tracery was covered up. I know that it is usual to bitterly condemn whitewash, but I have found in several churches in Cornwall that we may bless it, for had it not been for its preservative effect we should not have had handed down to us many interesting frescoes and delicate traceries. Much that is of value in Sherborne Church, in Dorset, is, for example, due to whitewash having been freely used in past times.

Above the door in the porch is a niche, or bracket, now empty, which was no doubt intended for a figure of the Virgin Mary. It may once have supported such an effigy, but I could see no evidence thereof. The roof of the porch is