town's maritime ambitions have been but partially
realized. We have many busy and flourishing seaports, but there is only
one Falmouth, with its quaint little alleys leading to the waterside,
inconvenient and hopelessly behind the times, yet picturesque beyond
description and redolent of the spirit of the past. One of the most
pleasing views of Falmouth is that obtained from the little township of
Flushing across the harbour, once a quite fashionable suburb, but now a
rather poor little fishing village.

The excursions from Falmouth, and the places of interest that lie within
easy reach are too numerous to mention, for their very names are an
attraction to the inquisitive topographer. Mylor lies over the hills of
Flushing on the beautiful waters of the Fal; St. Mawes and the fishing
town of Gerrans are equally near; while the most hardened tourist could
not fail to wish to visit a village endowed with the charming name of
St. Just in Roseland.

A reference should be made to the fine promontory of Pendennis, almost
surrounded by the sea, on the summit of which stands the historic castle
that has played no small part in our island story.

There are two road routes from Falmouth to the Lizard--the regular route
through Helston, and the other, a trifle longer, by way of the woods of
Trelowarren, the seat of the Cornish Vyvyans. The most enjoyable way,
however, of viewing this well-known promontory is to sail from Falmouth.
Those who would woo the charms of the Cornish coast from the water
should remember that even on the calmest day sailing along this exposed
seaboard is no child's play, but a serious business. As a matter of fact
no one who is not intimately acquainted with the coast should take a
boat out of the harbour without an experienced man on board, and no
amateurs should attempt unaided, to sail the lugsail boats in general
use among the fishermen. The best boat for yachting in these waters is a
ten or fifteen ton cutter or yawl, such as can be hired at Falmouth for
quite a moderate sum. But the coast is a dangerous one, for although the
morning run past the dreaded Manacles, Helford river, St. Keverne's, and
right down to the Lizard, may present no difficulties, the return
evening journey, with a stiff breeze from the land making a choppy sea,
and the puzzling lights at the complicated entrance to the anchorage,
are disturbing elements that make one feel thankful to have the skipper
on board to guide the little