Wilkie Collins’s Experiences as a Pedestrian—Taken for “Mapper,” “Trodger,” and Hawker—An Exciting Wreck at Penzance—The Life‐line sent out—An Obstinate Captain—A Brave Coastguardsman—Five Courageous Young Ladies—Falmouth and Sir Walter Raleigh—Its Rapid Growth—One of its Institutions—A Dollar Mine—Religious Fishermen—The Lizard and its Associations for Voyagers—Origin of the Name—Mount St. Michael, the Picturesque—Her Majesty’s Visit—An Heroic Rescue at Plymouth—Another Gallant Rescue. Mr. Collins’s experiences as a pedestrian are amusing. Says he:—“We enter a small public‐house by the road‐side to get a draught of beer. In the kitchen we behold the landlord and a tall man, who is a customer. Both stare as a matter of course; the tall man especially, after taking one look at our knapsacks, fixes his eyes firmly on us, and sits bolt upright on the bench without saying a word—he is evidently prepared for the worst we can do. We get into conversation with the landlord, a jovial, talkative fellow, who desires greatly to know what we are, if we have no objection. We ask him what he thinks we are? ‘Well,’ says the landlord, pointing to my friend’s knapsack, which has a square ruler strapped to it for architectural drawing, ‘Well, I think you are both of you _Mappers_; mappers, who come here to make new roads; you may be coming to make a railroad, I dare say. We’ve had mappers in the county before this. I know a mapper myself. Here’s both your good healths.’ We drink the landlord’s good health in return, and disclaim the honour of being ‘mappers;’ we walk through the country, we tell him, for pleasure alone, and take any roads we can get, without wanting to make new ones. The landlord would like to know, if that is the case, why we carry these loads at our backs? Because we want to carry our luggage about with us. Couldn’t we pay to ride? Yes, we could. And yet we like walking better? Yes, we do. This last answer utterly confounds the tall customer, who has been hitherto listening intently to the dialogue. It is evidently too much for his credulity; he pays his reckoning, and walks out in a hurry without uttering a word. The landlord appears to be convinced, but it is only in appearance; he looks at us suspiciously in spite of himself. We leave him standing at his door, keeping his eye on us as long as we are in sight, still evidently persuaded that we are ‘mappers,’ but ‘mappers’ of a bad order, whose perseverance is fraught with some unknown peril to the security of the Queen’s highway. “We get on into another district. Here public opinion is not flattering. Some of the groups gathered together in the road to observe us begin to speculate on our characters before we are quite out of hearing. Then this sort of dialogue, spoken in serious, subdued tones, just reaches us. Question—‘What can they be?’ Answer—‘_Trodgers!_’