Penzance is itself the most westerly port of England. It has a noble pier, 700 feet long, and a lighthouse, the red light of which can be seen nine miles off. It has a lifeboat, the crew of which has done many a gallant deed. Out of a population of twelve or thirteen thousand in and about the town, at least twenty‐five per cent. are hardy men of the sea—fishermen or sailors. It was the scene, only a couple of years ago, of a most exciting event. [Illustration: ROCKET LINE THROWN TO A WRECK NEAR PENZANCE.] A French brig, the _Ponthieu_, went ashore near the town, during the prevalence of a strong south‐west gale. The Marazion rocket apparatus was worked successfully, and the line was thrown over the wreck, but the crew, being ignorant of the mode of working it, fastened it loosely on board, instead of hauling it in taut. One of the crew managed, however, to get safely ashore by it. The Penzance lifeboat was then got out, but on her arrival at the ill‐fated vessel, the French crew, though in infinite peril, great seas washing over them, took no notice, the captain apparently forbidding them to leave, or even throw a line to the boat. The wind and sea rapidly increased in fury; the vessel was evidently doomed, and must soon break up. In vain the life‐boatmen entreated. They were actually warned off, and had, after earnest warning, to leave. But seeing the inevitable loss of life that must ensue, the brave coxswain of the boat determined to return. Result: five lives saved. The captain still remained obstinate, and at length a coastguardsman, all honour to him! volunteered for the perilous duty of going out to the wreck by the rocket line, taking with him a letter from the French Consul, urging the captain to leave. In the presence of hundreds of intensely‐excited spectators, the coastguard made his way, often under the waves for several seconds, and in peril of being washed off. The captain was watching him from the brig, but stood motionless, even when his deliverer had arrived under the bows. Just then a furious sea broke over the hero of the rocket line, and washed him away, and it was feared by all on shore that he must perish. Happily, however, he regained the rope, and more dead than alive, was washed ashore. Meanwhile the brig was fast breaking up. The masts fell over the side. The stern, on which the captain was standing, was first battered in, and then clean carried away. It was supposed that the captain had perished, but presently he was seen among the wreckage, mounting to the foreyard, the sail of which somewhat sheltered him. The coastguardsmen fired two more rockets, and one line falling close to the captain, he seized it, but even then seemed irresolute whether to save himself or perish with his brig. After a quarter of an hour the love of life constrained him to fasten the rope round his body, and the foolhardy man was dragged ashore. Within an hour nothing was to be seen of the vessel but a few floating spars.