covers them in the form of a rude, slanting roof. These slabs are
so irregular in form as to look quite unhewn. They all vary in size and
thickness. The whole structure rises to a height, probably, of fourteen
feet; and, standing as it does on elevated ground, in a barren country,
with no stones of a similar kind erected near it, presents an appearance
of rugged grandeur and aboriginal simplicity, which renders it an
impressive, almost a startling object to look on. Antiquaries have
discovered that its name signifies The Place of Graves; and have
discovered no more. No inscription appears on it; the date of its
erection is lost in the darkest of the dark periods of English history.

Our path had been gradually rising all the way from St. Clare's Well;
and, when we left Trevethey Stone, we still continued to ascend,
proceeding along the tram-way leading to the Caraton Mine. Soon the
scene presented another abrupt and extraordinary change. We had been
walking hitherto amid almost invariable silence and solitude; but now,
with each succeeding minute, strange, mingled, unintermitting noises
began to grow louder and louder around us. We followed a sharp curve in
the tram-way, and immediately found ourselves saluted by an entirely new
prospect, and surrounded by an utterly bewildering noise. All about us
monstrous wheels were turning slowly; machinery was clanking and
groaning in the hoarsest discords; invisible waters were pouring onward
with a rushing sound; high above our heads, on skeleton platforms, iron
chains clattered fast and fiercely over iron pulleys, and huge steam
pumps puffed and gasped, and slowly raised and depressed their heavy
black beams of wood. Far beneath the embankment on which we stood, men,
women, and children were breaking and washing ore in a perfect marsh of
copper-coloured mud and copper-coloured water. We had penetrated to the
very centre of the noise, the bustle, and the population on the surface
of a great mine.

When we walked forward again, we passed through a thick plantation of
young firs; and then, the sounds behind us became slowly and solemnly
deadened the further we went on. When we had arrived at the extremity of
the line of trees, they ceased softly and suddenly. It was like a change
in a dream.

We now left the tram-way, and stood again on the moor--on a wilder and
lonelier part of it than we had yet beheld. The Cheese-Wring and its
adjacent rocks were visible a mile and a half aw