l West Indians, by fruitless invitations to islands and
ports, which to have seen were 'a joy for ever.'

But almost the most interesting group of all was one of Cornish
miners, from the well-known old Redruth and Camborne county, and the
old sacred hill of Carn-brea, who were going to seek their fortunes
awhile in silver mines among the Andes, leaving wives and children
at home, and hoping, 'if it please God, to do some good out there,'
and send their earnings home. Stout, bearded, high-cheek-boned men
they were, dressed in the thick coats and rough caps, and, of
course, in the indispensable black cloth trousers, which make a
miner's full dress; and their faces lighted up at the old pass-word
of 'Down-Along'; for whosoever knows Down-Along, and the speech
thereof, is at once a friend and a brother. We had many a pleasant
talk with them ere we parted at St. Thomas's.

And on to St. Thomas's we were hurrying; and, thanks to the north-
east wind, as straight as a bee-line. On the third day we ran two
hundred and fifty-four miles; on the fourth two hundred and sixty;
and on the next day, at noon, where should we be? Nearing the
Azores; and by midnight, running past them, and away on the track of
Columbus, towards the Sargasso Sea.

We stayed up late on the night of December 7, in hopes of seeing, as
we passed Terceira, even the loom of the land: but the moon was
down; and a glimpse of the 'Pico' at dawn next morning was our only
chance of seeing, at least for this voyage, those wondrous Isles of
the Blest--Isles of the Blest of old; and why not still? They too
are said to be earthly paradises in soil, climate, productions; and
yet no English care to settle there, nor even to go thither for
health, though the voyage from Lisbon is but a short one, and our
own mail steamers, were it made worth their while, could as easily
touch at Terceira now as they did a few years since.

And as we looked out into the darkness, we could not but recollect,
with a flush of pride, that yonder on the starboard beam lay Flores,
and the scene of that great fight off the Azores, on August 30,
1591, made ever memorable by the pen of Walter Raleigh--and of late
by Mr. Froude; in which the Revenge, with Sir Richard Grenville for
her captain, endured for twelve hours, before she struck, the attack
of eight great Spanish armadas, of which two (three times her own
burden) sank at her side; and after all her ma