I am now at my journey's end. As to the islands of Scilly, which
lie beyond the Land's End, I shall say something of them presently.
I must now return SUR MES PAS, as the French call it; though not
literally so, for I shall not come back the same way I went. But
as I have coasted the south shore to the Land's End, I shall come
back by the north coast, and my observations in my return will
furnish very well materials for another letter.



APPENDIX TO LAND'S END.



I have ended this account at the utmost extent of the island of
Great Britain west, without visiting those excrescences of the
island, as I think I may call them--viz., the rocks of Scilly; of
which what is most famous is their infamy or reproach; namely, how
many good ships are almost continually dashed in pieces there, and
how many brave lives lost, in spite of the mariners' best skill, or
the lighthouses' and other sea-marks' best notice.

These islands lie so in the middle between the two vast openings of
the north and south narrow seas (or, as the sailors call them, the
Bristol Channel, and The Channel--so called by way of eminence)
that it cannot, or perhaps never will, be avoided but that several
ships in the dark of the night and in stress of weather, may, by
being out in their reckonings, or other unavoidable accidents,
mistake; and if they do, they are sure, as the sailors call it, to