Here we pass from confusion of language into mere confusion of thought, the classical instance of which is the Mevagissey man who, having been asked the old question, "If a herring and a half cost three-halfpence, how many can you buy for a shilling?'" and having given it up and been told the answer, responded brightly, "Why, o' course! Darn me, if I wasn' thinkin' of pilchards!" I met with a fair Devon rival to this story the other day in the reported conversation of two farmers discussing the electric light at Chagford (run by Chagford's lavish water-power). "It do seem out of reason," said the one, "to make vire out o' watter." "No," agreed the other, "it don't seem possible: but there,"--after a slow pause--"'tis butiful water to Chaggyford!" It was pleasant, while the Magazine lasted, to record these and like simplicities: and though the voyage was not long, one may recall without regret its send-off, brave enough in its way:-- "'WISH 'EE WELL!' "The ensign's dipped; the captain takes the wheel. 'So long!' the pilot waves, and 'Wish 'ee well!' Go little craft, and with a home-made keel 'Mid loftier ships, but with a heart as leal, Learn of blue waters and the long sea swell! "Through the spring days we built and tackled thee, Tested thy timbers, saw thy rigging sound, Bent sail, and now put forth unto the sea Where those leviathans, the critics, be, And other monsters diversely profound. "Some bronzed Phoenician with his pigmy freight Haply thy herald was, who drave of yore Deep-laden from Bolerium by the Strait Of Gades, and beside his city's gate Chaffered in ingots cast of Cornish ore. "So be thou fortunate as thou art bold; Fare, little craft, and make the world thy friend: And, it may be--when all thy journey's told With anchor dropped and tattered canvas rolled, And some good won for Cornwall in the end-- "Thou wilt recall, as best, a lonely beach, And a few exiles, to the barter come, Who recognised the old West-country speech, And touched thee, reverent, whispering each to each-- 'She comes from far--from very far--from home.'" I have a special reason for remembering _The Cornish Magazine_, because it so happened that the first number (containing these hopeful verses) was put into my hands with the morning's letters as I paced the garden below this Cornish Window, careless of it or of anything but a doctor's verdict of life or death in the house above. The verdict was for life. . . .