hundreds of tons. It would
puzzle even your strong arm to toss such a quoit! One of these giants
was a very notable fellow. He was named `Wrath,' and is said to have
been in the habit of quenching his thirst at the Holy Well under St.
Agnes's Beacon, where the marks of his hands, made in the solid granite
while he stooped to drink, may still be seen. This rascal, who was well
named, is said to have compelled poor St. Agnes, in revenge for her
refusing to listen to his addresses, to carry in her apron to the top of
Beacon Hill the pile of stones which lies there. But here we are at
Penzance, so we shall have done with fiction for the present, and revert
to matters of fact. You have business with a lawyer, I believe, and I
have business for a short time with a friend. Let us appoint a time and
place of meeting."

"What say you to the Wherry Mine at two o'clock?" said Oliver. "It is
probable that my business will be concluded by that time, when we can go
and see this mine together. My uncle seems to set great store by it,
because of an old prophecy to the effect that some day or other it will
enrich somebody!"

"Why, that prophecy has been fulfilled long ago," said Tregarthen, with
a laugh. "The mine was a bold undertaking, and at one time paid well,
but I fear it won't do so again. However, let us meet there; so
farewell, old boy, till two."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE MINE IN THE SEA.

True to their appointment, young Tregarthen and Oliver Trembath met at
the western end of the town of Penzance, close to the sea-beach, where a
mass of buildings and a chimney indicated the position of the Wherry
Mine.

Oliver's countenance betrayed anxiety as he came forward.

"Nothing wrong, I hope?" said Tregarthen.

"Well, I can't say exactly that things are wrong; but, at the same time,
I don't know that they are altogether right."

"Much the same thing," said Tregarthen, smiling; "come, Oliver, unbosom
yourself, as novelists say. It will do you good, and two heads, you
know, are better than one."

"It's not easy to unbosom myself, old fellow," returned Oliver, with a
troubled look; "for my poor uncle's affairs are in a perplexed
condition, and I hate explanations, especially when I don't understand
the nature of what I attempt to explain, so we'll not talk about it,
please, till after our visit to the mine. Let it suffice to say that
that notorious smuggler Jim Cuttance is concerned in it, and that we
must go