We all congratulated my brother on his almost providential escape from what might have been a tragic ending to his long walk.  He had told me he had a foreboding earlier in the evening that something was about to happen to him.  From the position in which he was seated in the bottom of the trap he could not see anything before him except the backs of the three men sitting above, and he did not know what was happening until he thought he saw us tumbling upon him and myself jumping in the air over a bush.

He described it in the well-known words of Sir Walter Scott: 

  The heart had hardly time to think. 
  The eyelid scarce had time to wink.

The squeeze, as he called it, had left its marks upon him, as his chest was bruised in several places, and he was quite certain that if we had slid backwards another half-inch on our seat in the trap we should have finished him off altogether—­for the back of the trap had already been forced outwards as far as it would go.  He felt the effects of the accident for a long time afterwards.

We complimented our driver on his wonderful presence of mind and on the way he had handled his horse under the dangerous conditions which had prevailed.  But we must needs find the smithy, for we dared not attempt to ride in our conveyance until it had been examined.  The wheel had been rather seriously damaged, and other parts as well, but after some slight repairs it was so patched up as to enable us to resume our journey, with a caution from the blacksmith to drive slowly and with great care.

We arrived at Penzance safely, but much later than we had expected, and after paying our driver’s fee together with a handsome donation, we adjourned with our friend to the hotel for a substantial dinner and to talk about our adventure until bedtime.  When bidding us “good night,” our friend informed us that, as he had an engagement in the country some miles away, we should not see him on the next day, but he promised to visit us after his return to Liverpool.  This he did, and we saw him on several occasions in after years when, owing to unforeseen circumstances, we found ourselves, like him, in the timber trade.

Sunday, November 19th.

Sir Matthew Hale was a member of Cromwell’s Parliament and Lord Chief
Justice of England in 1671.  His “Golden Maxim” is famous: 

  A Sabbath well spent brings a week of content,
    And health for the toils of to-morrow;
  But a Sabbath profaned, whate’er may be gained,
    Is a certain forerunner of sorrow!

Anxious as we were to reach our home as soon as possible, our knowledge of Sir Matthew’s maxim and of the Commandment “Remember that thou keep holy the Sabbath Day,” prevented us from travelling on Sunday.

Penzance is said to have a temperature cooler in summer and warmer in winter than any other town in Britain, and plants such as dracaenas, aloes, escollonia, fuchsias, and hydrangeas, grown under glass in winter elsewhere, flourished here in the open air, while palms or tree ferns grow to a wonderful height, quite impossible under similar conditions in our more northern latitude, where they would certainly be cut down by frost.  We also noted that the forest trees were still fairly covered with autumnal leaves, but when we arrived home two days later similar trees were quite bare.