The letter is disingenuous, and is the composition of a man impudent and conceited. He knew the estimation in which the Logan Rock was held, and it was because Borlase had pronounced it impossible of displacement that he resolved to displace it. He pretends that he tried to "move" it, whereas from the context it is clear that he intended to throw it down, and for this purpose had brought the handspikes. He boasts vaingloriously of his intention of replacing it and gaining glory thereby, and never says a word about his having been given by the Admiralty the alternative of doing that or losing his commission. Nor does he mention the generous help he received from Mr. Gilbert and his kinsman Mr. Edye. On November 2nd, in the presence of vast crowds, ladies waving their handkerchiefs, and men firing _feux de joie_, the block was raised, Mr. Goldsmith, his natural conceit overcoming his sense of vexation, superintending the operation. But, although replaced, it was no longer so perfectly balanced as before. As one wrote who was present at the time, "it rocked differently, though well enough to satisfy the people." An account of the feat, written in the true style of the penny-a-liner, appeared in the _Royal Cornwall Gazette_ of the 6th November:-- "The Logan Rock is in its place, and _logs_ again. Lieut. Goldsmith has nobly repaired the error of a moment by a long trial of skill and energy and courage. I say courage, for it was a work of great peril; and wherever danger was, there he was always foremost--under the weight of the mass of machinery, and on the edge of the precipice.... I shall content myself with barely observing, as a proof of the skill of applying the complicated machinery employed, that many engineers had their doubts whether it could be so applied, and even when erected, they doubted whether it would be efficient. "The moment, therefore (on Friday last), when the men took their stations at the capstans was an anxious one, and when, after twenty minutes' toil, Lieut. Goldsmith announced from the stage, 'It moves, thank God!' a shout of applause burst from all who beheld it. Endeavour to conceive a group of rocks of the most grand and romantic appearance, forming an amphitheatre, with multitudes seated on the irregular masses, or clinging to its precipices: conceive a huge platform carried across an abyss from rock to rock, and upon it three capstans manned by British seamen. Imagine the lofty masts which are seen rearing their heads, from which ropes are connected with chains in many a fold and of massive strength. A flag waves over all: the huge stone is in the midst. Every eye is directed to the monstrous bulk. Will it break its chains? Will it fall and spread ruin? Or will it defy the power that attempts to stir it? Will all the skill and energy, and strength and hardihood, have been exerted in vain? We shall soon know: expectation sits breathless; and at last it moves.