All visitors to Truro make their way to the historic port of Falmouth by water, when they travel along a length of river scenery that possesses no equal in beauty with the exception perhaps of a somewhat similar reach of the romantic Dart, in the adjoining county of Devon. Any mention of the Dart, however, as a possible rival to the Fal, is much resented by Cornishmen, and one that had better be left unsaid within the boundaries of the delectable Duchy.
The old port of Falmouth is situated in a sheltered bay with the glittering sea beyond. Landward lie the villages of Mabe and Constantine, with their great granite quarries, and beyond them wide expanses of undulating and treeless land that is not devoid of beauty. Here the climate is so mild that hydrangeas become large bushes, and the eucalyptus attains the proportions of a forest tree. The port rose perhaps to its greatest height of prosperity in the days of the fourth George, when the famous Falmouth packets--ten-gun brigs officered by naval men--carried the mails to various Mediterranean ports, and to the North American and West Indian stations. A well preserved relic of these good old days may be seen at Swanpool, where, in a cottage built by Commander Bull, may be observed a chiselled relief of the old "Marlborough" packet at the top angle of the façade. As a port Falmouth has not kept pace with the steady growth in the size of steamships, although the opening of the railway to Truro set Falmouth cogitating great schemes in the way of spacious docks and large hotels. Some of us do not regret that the 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.