The bluff promontory of Botallack, not far from Cape Cornwall, conceals in its rocky entrails a copper mine, the most singularly placed, probably, of any mine in the world, for nowhere do the triumphs of industry appear in more picturesque connection with the magnificent scenery of the ocean. The metalliferous veins running along the cliffs into the sea vainly concealed themselves beneath the swelling surge; in vain a huge barrier of rocks seemed to render them inaccessible to the miner, as soon as it became known that here, buried under the ocean, lay treasures that would amply repay the cost and labour expended, and the danger encountered in seeking for them. To those who stand below the cliff and look up from the sea, the view is fearfully grand, and remarkable for the combination of the wonders of art with the wonders of nature. The separate parts of an enormous steam- engine had to be lowered 200 feet down the almost perpendicular precipice, and a tram-road runs right up the face of the cliff. Lofty chimneys, pouring out dense volumes of black smoke, are seen perched on the verge and even on the ledges of a tremendous precipice, and the miner has built his hut over the sea-bird’s roost. All these constructions seem at the mercy of every storm, and to the beholder from beneath they almost appear suspended in the air and tottering to their fall. On one side of the cliff tall ladders scale the rock; but he must have strong nerves who can tread them fearlessly, the sea roaring under him and flinging its raging spray after him as he ascends, while in other parts mules and their riders may be seen trotting up and down the rocky tracks which the pedestrian visitor would scarcely dare to pass. A strange and restless life pervades a scene which nature seemed to have for ever removed far from the busy haunts of man. A visit to this remarkable mine leaves an ineradicable impression on the mind. Descending ladder after ladder, and passing on from gallery to gallery, stepping over rough stones and awkward holes, now stooping down under masses of overhanging rock, and now climbing over stony projections beneath your feet, you are at length informed that you are vertically 120 feet below the sea-level, and horizontally 480 feet under the bottom of the ocean or beyond low-water mark, while still deeper down human beings are hewing the hard rock. The brine oozes through the metallic ceiling, and the sound of distant waters falls faintly upon the ear.