Church Services.

SONNING CHURCH:

Sundays, Eleven o'clock in the Morning; 3 o'clock in the Afternoon; and half-past 6 o'clock in the Evening,

Daily, Half-past 8 in the Morning.

ALL SAINTS' CHURCH:

Sundays, Eleven in the Morning; half-past 6 o'clock in the Evening.

ROYAL BERKS HOSPITAL.

The annual collections in aid of the Hospital, on Sunday, May 12th, amounted at Sonning Church to £29, and at All Saints' to £7 9s. 5d.

HOSPITAL FOR SICK CHILDREN.

Last month we sent the box to the Hospital for Sick Children, containing clothes, toys, and ten shillings, the result of a penny subscription. The following reply has been sent to the Editor of this Magazinë.

Great Ormond Street, Bloomsbury,

London, W.C. MAY 10th, 1872.

Sir,

On several occasions we have been favoured with presents of clothing and toys for the use of our little patients in this Hospital, kindly given by the friends connected with the "Sonning Parish Magazine." I have again to beg the favour of acknowledgment in your pages of a further gift of clothing and toys, with the proceeds of a 'penny subscription" to our funds. We desire to return our cordial thanks to all the kind friends who have contributed to the parcel, either in work or money.

It may interest your readers to know that we have at length been enabled to begin the long expected enlargement of the Hospital, and that the foundations are in progress for the central portion of the New Hospital. This part will contain 109 beds, and be complete in itself. No needless outlay on ornament will be permitted, the whole building is of brick; balconies have been introduced in order to enable the children in fine weather to breathe the fresh air; while projecting towers at each angle of the building will contain the cisterns, the sculleries, and other arrangements which it is important to isolate from the wards as much as possible.

Continued at End.

One special feature of the Children's Hospital ought not to be forgotten, it is at once a healer and a teacher. The gentle words heard there, the training to obedience, the habits of cleanliness, practically enforced, carry with them a lesson which is not forgotten when the little patients quit the Hospital; nor is gratitude wanting, as may be learned from the fact, that some of the old-young patients find their way back as visitors to their former nurses. It is always "more blessed to give than to receive," and it is certain that the givers to the Hospital for Sick Children will find their reward.

Should any of your readers desire to see the reports of our Hospital, or any of the reprinted notices of it, I shall have great pleasure in supplying them on being favoured with an intimation.

I am, Sir,

Your obedient and obliged servant,

SAMUEL WHITFORD.

Secretary.

LONDON TO LAND'S END.

A writer in this Magazine lately alluded, in a feeling manner, to the grievances felt by Englishmen abroad, owing to bad meals and cold feet. He might have added, that there are some to whom the passages of the Channel are at least four hours of solid misery; there are some who are overcome by a sensation of helplessness, from the moment they set foot on foreign soil, and have a vague feeling, not exactly that people are swindling them, but that if any one choose to do so they could not possibly help it; there are some who set a high, perhaps over-high, value on washing apparatus and general cleanliness; and who, again, when suffering from the manifold inconveniences of foreign railway arrangements and foreign custom houses, cannot repress an occasional sigh for the comparative comforts of their native land. To such as these, it is some consolation to reflect that it is, after all, possible to travel, and even to enjoy travelling, without going abroad, startling as the assertion may appear at first sight; and it was in consequence of the discovery of this fact, that certain travellers left London last April, with the intention of spending two months in the West of England.

Their first halting place was Salisbury, where they repaired at once to the Cathedral, and found it in a state of restoration. This appears now to be the normal condition of English cathedrals. The sign is a hopeful one, as shewing the general interest now taken in Church restoration. The repairs at Salisbury are altogether internal, and do not interfere with the grandeur of the great building towering from its trim level close. Ten miles drive across the "bleak and bare Salisbury Plain brings the traveller to the far famed Stonehenge, a monument which is impressive, not only because of its striking appearance, but also because no one seems to know anything of the way in which it was constructed, nor. indeed, do they appear to be quite certain about the use for which it was originally intended. It is agreed, however, that it was a temple of some kind, and a large flat stone which lies about ten yards from the great circle, is called by the suggestive name of the "slaughter stone,” and on it, no doubt, many hundreds of human beings have been put to death, amid the savage rites which once were wont to be celebrated in this desolate spot. It is quite refreshing to return to the little village of Amesbury, with its Manor house, and its Church, and its rows of comfortable cottages, and to feel that after all, modern civilization has its advantages.

The next stage in the westward journey is Exeter, a pleasant, picturesque old city, with much pretty country in the neighbourhood. Here, again, the Cathedral is under repair. From Exeter a very pretty line of railway runs by Dawlish and

Teignmouth, keeping close to the sea and tunnelling frequently through the bright red cliffs to Torquay; and now the traveller is fairly launched in Devonshire scenery. Here he first finds the magnificent cliffs, the luxuriant foliage, and the warm pleasant air which he will enjoy for the rest of his pilgrimage through the county. The town of Torquay has been distinguished during the past winter by the residence of two great men, namely, the Ex-Emperor of the French, and Herr Krupp, the celebrated manufacturer of Prussian cannon. Whether, during their stay, they met, and whether, if so, they enjoyed each other's society, appears to be not generally known. There is a beautiful drive which leads past Kent's cavern where the bones of hyenas and other animals now extinct in Britain, have lately been found, to a cliff which commands a magnificent view of the blue waters and red cliffs of Tor Bay. To the right is Paignton, half hidden in trees, and exceedingly proud (as a watering place) of its five miles of sandy beach; to the left, Brixham, now a large and prosperous fishing village, where William III. landed his storm tossed troops, and began his bloodless march on the capital. To the eastward are Anstie's Cove and Babbicombe Bay, with its brilliant beach of white pebbles, and the view stretches far beyond, headland after headland, till it is bounded at last by the dimly seen outline of Portland Bill.

Torquay is indeed beautiful, but it is, after all, only a prelude to Dartmouth, which is certainly the most lovely harbour on the South Devon Coast. The town lies within a mile of the sea, but such are the windings of the harbour that it has the appearance of being built on a lake, which is full of craft of all shapes and sizes, Greeks, Americans, and Norwegians; while above them all towers the great three-decker, the Britannia, which, though she looks so imposing, is only used as a school for little boys. For here the naval cadets, our future Nelsons, are trained; and the traveller who visits the floating academy, and sees the apple-pie order in which everything is kept, baths, kitchens, sleeping places, and dining-rooms, and marks the appearance of discipline, industry, and comfort which prevails throughout, can hardly help wishing that the Government could be induced to undertake Public School Education generally.

From Dartmouth to Plymouth the railroad skirts Dartmoor, and passes over several viaducts of stupendous height, from which are seen glimpses of lovely valleys running far up into the barren hills of the moorland. To describe Plymouth fully would require at least two whole numbers of the Sonning Magazine; its docks full of ironclads, its breakwater which is a mile long, and cost a million and a half, its fortifications which seem endless, and, finally, the extreme beauty of the neighbouring scenery, Saltram, Mount Edgcumbe, and Antony, must be left to the Guide Book. But to many the most striking sight hereabouts is the Hamoaze, that is, the part of the harbour (some three miles long) in which men-ofwar are kept when past work, There they lie, towering from the water in long lines, representing, probably, many millions of money,—some have never been to sea-and all perfectly useless-because they are made of wood. Apart from the economical point of view, it is very melancholy to think that the half-affectionate skill lavished on their construction, and the almost superstitious love felt for them by the crews that have worked them, should end in this-the Royal Naval Workhouse.

Pursuing our way Westward, we cross the celebrated Saltash Bridge, which spans the Tamar in two gigantic strides of 155 feet each, and find ourselves in Cornwall. The character of the country speedily changes; there is less wood, more rock, and here and there bare bleak hill tops to be seen topped by hideous little engine-houses for working the mines of the district. We pass Truro, (which lies far below us as we speed over the house-tops on a viaduct some 100 feet high), branch off sharp to the left, and find ourselves at Falmouth. This, perhaps the best harbour in Great Britain, is the creation of one man. Sir Walter Raleigh, returning from one of his voyages, happened to put in to what was then a deserted creek, but now is Falmouth harbour. He was much struck by such a splendid opportunity for making a first-class haven, and brought the matter before the authorities in London; the notice of the public was attracted, and Falmouth speedily became an important place. The harbour is not only large, but exceedingly beautiful; it should rather be described as several harbours branching out from one large Roadstead; and such are its windings that it is said that 100 sail of vessels may anchor in it, and yet not one see the mast of the other. The entrance

is guarded by two castles, St. Mawes and Pendennis, the latter of which stands very finely on a height, and is no doubt a very efficient protection to the harbour in these piping times of peace; but, judging from the thickness of the walls and the character of the ordnance, it seems probable to the non-military mind that a single gun-boat, armed with a single gun (such as are made in these degenerate days), could blow the two castles to pieces, and proceed to capture or sink every vessel that happened to be lying in the harbour-a number often amounting to over 500.

At Falmouth the gorse, which is the great feature of much Devon and Cornwall scenery, is to be seen in its full glory. No doubt, in order to appreciate fully a tour in these counties, a traveller needs to be a botanist; and even one ignorant of the science of herbs feels a certain awe when he is shewn, for instance, a fern, and is told that it grows here, and in a small district in Portugal, and nowhere else in the world. But it is not necessary to be a botanist to observe the wonderful beauty of the wild flowers, which in this district seem to be not only more numerous, but even richer in colour than in the East; of the rhododendrons and camellias which flower freely in the open air, and above all, of the gorse, the plant for whose beauty Linnæus, when first he saw it in flower, fell on his knees and thanked God. It was worth choosing the spring for travelling in the West, if only to see the great walls of golden flowers which serve as hedges to most of the Cornish lanes, and stretch far away over every tract of uncultivated land, seeming almost by their own brightness to change a gloomy day into sunshine.

As we proceed towards Penzance, the country grows more and more bleak, and mining engines with their ugly chimneys more and more frequent upon every eminence. You begin to be tired even of so short a journey, and to wish for the terminus at Penzance. Suddenly the train shoots out from between high banks, and you are in full view of all the glories of Mount's Bay; while there, to your left, facing the white houses of Mara Zion, stands the great mount itself, "crowned with castles and mantled with ivy," where once was seen the great vision of the Archangel Michael, standing on the topmost turret, and looking southwards forth upon "Namancos and Bayona's hold." However high may be the expectations which the pilgrim may bring with him, the effect of St. Michael's Mount is pretty sure to exceed them; and from whatever point it is seen-whether from Lamorna Cove to the West, or dimly from the distant Lizard Point, or close at hand from the little village of Mara Zion, its shape is always beautiful and always striking, from being (tame as the phrase may sound) so utterly unlike anything else. The Mount can be approached, four hours out of twelve, by a natural causeway, formed by the meeting of two tides; at other times a boat is necessary. The ascent is easy, and the mount itself, instead of being rocky and barren, is clothed over more than half its surface with turf, small trees, ivy, and wild flowers. the summit is a dwelling house, with a chapel.

On

Penzance is a pleasant town, chiefly renowned for its fisheries; few sights are prettier than that of the fleet of fishing boats with their brown sails, 600 or 700 strong, putting to sea and stretching in an almost unbroken line to the horizon. The fishermen are famous sailors, and their craft are excellent sea boats; one of the fleet, by name the "Mystery," of 15 tons burden-that is to say about one quarter of the size of an ordinary Thames barge, such as those which pass daily through Sonning Lock—with a crew of five men, made a quick and successful passage to Australia, not many years ago. Persons not well acquainted with English history are apt to suppose that, on the dispersion of the Great Armada, the Spaniards subsided, and were for many years no more heard of. They will, therefore, be surprized to hear that in 1595—only seven years after "Britain's Salamis" -the Spaniards landed in Mount's Bay, and sacked and burned not Penzance only, but also several flourishing fishing villages in the neighbourhood; after which they went away rejoicing. Truly we hear a great deal more of our victories than we do of our reverses.

And now, having brought our reader 326 miles by railway from London, it remains for us to conduct him 10 miles further by road. And first we pass the Logan Rock, which weighs 60 tons, but is so balanced that it can easily be rocked by one man. The romance of this object is rather spoiled by the remembrance that, not many years ago, Lieutenant Goldsmith, with a party of sailors, tumbled the Logan Rock from its position; but was ordered by the Admiralty to replace it, on