S. W. D. THE STORY OF THE TOYS I wish to preface this memorial by a little sketch of Cornwall, especially those parts of it most nearly connected with our family history. I have gathered the materials for it from a little book on Cornwall, by Mr. Tregellas. The long coast-line of Cornwall, the most southern and western county of England, has been, like Italy, compared in shape to a Wellington boot, the iron heel of which is the mass of serpentine rock which forms the southern point of the Lizard, and the foot that part which lies between Mounts Bay and Land's End. The instep is at St. Ives Bay, and the body of the boot constitutes the main portion of the county, the highest part toward the eastern end forming the Bodmin moors. Along the northern coast, the mural cliffs, against which the Atlantic rollers forever break, are in marked contrast to the tamer and more sylvan scenery of the south and west shores; while across the low-lying lands between St. Ives and Mounts Bay the sea often threaten to meet in the spring tides. The climate of Cornwall, owing to its situation, is so remarkable as to deserve notice. The month of January at Penzance is as warm as at Florence or Madrid, and July is as cool as at St. Petersburg. There is scarcely a country in the world with a climate so mild and equable. The people are "ardent and vivacious, self-reliant and versatile." It is no uncommon thing for a Cornishman to build his own house, make his own shoes, be both fisherman and miner, and, possibly, small shop-keeper besides; and wherever the Cornish miner emigrates, he is pretty sure to take the lead in enterprise and danger. Wilkie Collins says: "As a body of men they are industrious, intelligent, sober, and orderly, neither soured by hard work, nor depressed by harsher privations"; and the old poet Taylor, in 1649, writes: "Cornwall is the compleate and repleate Home of Abundance, for high, churlish hills and affable, courteous people. The country hath its share of huge stones, mighty rocks, noble free gentlemen, bountiful housekeepers, strong and stout men, handsome and beautiful women." Many curious old customs linger in Cornwall, among them the ceremony of "cutting the neck," or last few ears of corn at harvest time, the lighting of bonfires on the hills at St. John's Eve, and the "furry" or Flora dance at Helston, on the eighth of May. Among the peculiar dishes of the Cornish cuisine, prominent is the pasty, the almost universal dinner of the working class. It is a savory compound of meat and potatoes, inclosed in a crescent-shaped crust; but one must be a Cornishman to appreciate this dish thoroughly. The variety of pies is truly marvelous. It has been said that the devil himself would be put into a pie if he were caught in Cornwall. Most of them are richly saturated with clotted cream, a real Cornish dainty, which is very popular, as are also Cornish seed-cakes.