mpire. But the ghosts that walk here among the crowd of
sight-seers, or at night when the moon glitters brilliantly on the
broad estuary, or when the dark, moonless expanse is pierced with
lights from pier and masthead and distant Eddystone--these ghosts are
not such as we dread; they are the gracious figures of old-time
guests, grizzled seamen of Elizabethan glory when men dreamed of new
worlds and found them: kings, nobles, poets, painters, they are all
here to greet us on our approach to the enchanted regions of the
Delectable Duchy.

It is said that a parish clerk, more than a century since, wrote a
poem about Mount Edgcumbe in which he stated that--

"Mount Edgcumbe is a pleasant place,
It looketh on Hamoaze,
And on it are some batteries
To guard us from our foes."

The batteries are certainly there, more numerous than ever, and we may
hope that they will fulfil the purpose ascribed to them. Picklecombe
Fort, on the cliff below the grounds, is particularly powerful, and in
conjunction with the similar forts on the opposite heights of Staddon
might be able to render a good account of itself if Plymouth Sound
were ever attempted. The massive breakwater might also become an
effective obstacle to unfriendly navigation. This defence, built to
protect the harbour from south-west and south-easterly winds, is a
very fine piece of engineering. It was begun in 1812, and its
construction took twenty-eight years. About four and a half million
tons of limestone were brought from the Oreston quarries, and two and
a half million cubic feet of granite from Dartmoor. The central
length is 1,000 yards, each of the wings being 350 yards, making the
total length nearly a mile. The original cost was L1,500,000, to which
may be added the expense on the lighthouse and on frequent repairs and
renovations. The utility of the work has amply repaid the outlay.
Though the surface rises several feet above normal high water, there
are many times when the breakwater is swept by waves from end to end.

Mount Edgcumbe is in the parish of Maker, and there is a sensational
tale attaching to the interesting and finely situated church. It is
said that a former Lady Edgcumbe was brought here for burial, and the
sexton, left to himself, was trying to tear the rings off her fingers,
when she gave a sigh and awoke. She had been merely in a trance.
Returning to her home, she lived for many years after. This tale is
sometimes told