Mount’s Bay, a few miles further west, has a fine anchorage, but is more interesting to the visitor as containing an isolated pyramidal collection of grand rocks, which, with their castle, are the delight of the landscape artist. The old castle on the rocky islet rises to a height of 230 feet. The island is connected with Marazion, a village on the mainland, 400 yards distant, by a causeway of stones. In 1846 her Majesty Queen Victoria and Prince Albert paid a visit to the spot, and the event is commemorated on a tablet let into the wall of the pier, and by a brass foot‐plate placed on the spot first touched by the Royal feet when they conveyed Her Majesty ashore. There is a snug little harbour, and the pier just named will allow several hundred vessels to unload at the same time. The population of Mount St. Michael is composed almost entirely of pilots and fishermen. Plymouth, Devon, with its grand breakwater and many associations, has often been mentioned in these pages. Comparatively recently it was the scene of a most gallant rescue. Five boys were playing on the beach in front of the Hoe, when they entered a cave in the rocks, and remained there until the tide, which flowed in with unusual rapidity on account of a gale outside, completely hemmed them in. Their screams were heard from the road and promenade above, and hundreds of people quickly congregated. The waves were dashing furiously on the beach, and surging into the cave where the terrified lads were crouching, shivering with wet and cold, and trembling at their apparently inevitable fate. No boat could live in the surf, or dare approach the rocks. But seamen’s proverbial ingenuity came to the rescue; ropes were procured, and two seafaring men, George Andrews and Thomas Penny by name, were lowered over the precipitous crags through the blinding spray and dashing foam to the mouth of the rocky recess. Here, still attached to the ropes, they allowed themselves to be washed by the sea into the cave far enough to seize a boy, when, the signal being given, they were hauled out and up. This was repeated, until amid enthusiastic cheering, the fifth and last boy was saved. Has the reader ever visited Dartmouth, one of the loveliest spots in Britain? The men, and, if history tells us aright, the women too, of that ancient town rendered a good account of themselves when the French, in 1404, after burning and sacking Plymouth, thought they would have an easy prey. The inhabitants of Dartmouth pluckily resisted the invaders, and with such success, that the commander of the fleet, three barons, and twenty knights, were taken prisoners. But then out of a comparatively small population, then as now, a large proportion were men of the sea. [Illustration: SOUTHAMPTON.] CHAPTER XXI. SKETCHES OF OUR SOUTH COASTS.