our faces, we soon reached the topmost
rocks that crown the Lizard Head: and then, the whole noble line of
coast and the wild stormy ocean opened grandly into view.

On each side of us, precipice over precipice, cavern within cavern, rose
the great cliffs protecting the land against the raging sea. Three
hundred feet beneath, the foam was boiling far out over a reef of black
rocks. Above and around, flocks of sea-birds flew in ever lengthening
circles, or perched flapping their wings and sunning their plumage, on
ledges of riven stone below us. Every object forming the wide sweep of
the view was on the vastest and most majestic scale. The wild varieties
of form in the jagged line of rocks stretched away eastward and
westward, as far as the eye could reach; black shapeless masses of mist
scowled over the whole landward horizon; the bright blue sky at the
opposite point was covered with towering white clouds which moved and
changed magnificently; the tossing and raging of the great bright sea
was sublimely contrasted by the solitude and tranquillity of the desert,
overshadowed land--while ever and ever, sounding as they first sounded
when the morning stars sang together, the rolling waves and the rushing
wind pealed out their primeval music over the whole scene!

And now, when we began to examine the coast more in detail, inquiring
the names of remarkable objects as we proceeded, we found ourselves in a
country where each succeeding spot that the traveller visited, was
memorable for some mighty convulsion of Nature, or tragically associated
with some gloomy story of shipwreck and death. Turning from the Lizard
Head towards a cliff at some little distance, we passed through a field
on our way, overgrown with sweet-smelling wild flowers, and broken up
into low grassy mounds. This place is called "Pistol Meadow," and is
connected with a terrible event which is still spoken of by the country
people with superstitious awe.

Some hundred years since, a transport-ship, filled with troops, was
wrecked on the reef off the Lizard Head. Two men only were washed ashore
alive. Out of the fearful number that perished, two hundred corpses
were driven up on the beach below Pistol Meadow; and there they were
buried by tens and twenties together in great pits, the position of
which is still revealed by the low irregular mounds that chequer the
surface of the field. The place was named, in remembrance of the
quantity of fire-arms,--espec