""* J. A. " tiWfS^m'!' JOOKSELLER, f^V & SECOND-HAND, Market Jew St., PENZANCE. < S754 atnrneU Intoeraitg Slihrarg Siltaca, New ^atk kCV«r\4 ■ Gi--OK(;ii Cjiia,oR\. I llooksellot to 1 H RI Queen A\exaiKlrLi. I -Jl^iT^vlir St.. HATH._) The date shows when this volume was takeh< To renew this book copy the call No. and give to the librarian. HOME USE RULES Jt-'v' •tVoZ:-v;-« All Books subject to recall All borrower must regis- ter in the library to borrow books for home use. ,11 books must be re- 'ned at end of colleRe ye4[ for inspection and Limited books must be returned within the four week limit and not renewed. Students must' return all books before leaving town. Officers should arrange for the return of books wanted during their absence from town. Volumes of periodicals and of pamphlets are held in the library as much as possible. For special pur- poses they are given out for u limited time. Borrowers should not use their library privileges for the benefit of other persons. Books of special value and gift books, when the giver wishes it, are not allowed to circulate. Readers are asked to re- port all cases of books marked <** lautilated. Do not dvlftce books by marks Knd writing. Cornell University Library GR142.C8 B754 Stories and folk-lore of West Cornwall; olin 3 1924 029 890 559 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029890559 STORIES AND FOLK-LORE OF WEST CORNWALL BY WILLIAM BOTTRELL. ' ' The proper study of mankind is man. " — Pope. WITH ILLUSTEATIOMS BY MB. JOSEPH BLIGHT. THIRD SERIES. f,^ i-'tlKfzANCE I; ' '^ , ISSO. yii'/A^ «/ 'J'raimlatiiiu rrxn'reit. J i. ' i • ■ I H 1) :■> ^ ' : >' i 1 1 Y ■ : ; • I or r-l H PREFACE. IHE publication of the present work has been attended S by circumstances of pathetic interest. It is to be ?^ feared that it will be the la|t literary testament of its author, who, before the whole was completed, was stricken by ii severe stroke of -^laralysis, which has incapacitated him from holding a pen in his hand. He, must, therefore, claim the indulgence of the critics and the public in this third series of Cornish tales. The whole subject of folk-lore, however, is at this moment of §uch general interest, that still it isAoped that this little addition CM to the stores now being gathered from every nation under heaven, 04 may be acceptable to the literai-y world. The publication of y Meluaine, a jieriodioal solely devoted to folk-lore subjects, at Paris, was followed in Eligland by the Torniation of the Folk-lore Society in 187y, which promises to take an important position among the learned societies of tli(.; English nation, and whose publications have already reached the tliiid volum(\ The valuable collections of this society have doubtless done much to systematize the work already done, and to encourM^e the lalionrs of collectors of folk- lore throughout the world. The poet truly says, — "The prciper study of mankind is man." and so the folk-lore student, in collecting the myths, the proverbs, the traditions, the customs of the peasants of many lands, is doing an important work in accumulating facts bearing on the history of mankind; not the mere records of the wars and doings of kings and generals, but of the beliefs, aspirations, thoughts and feelings of the working classes of various nations. In this work the author has done some valuable service, and it is to be hoped that this addition to his former labours may be found of value, seeing that it deals not with the traditions of the peasantry of distant and foreign lands, but with the legends and traditions of the counti'y folk of one of the most romantic and interesting counties of " Merrie England." CONTENTS. PAGE Legends of Ladock 1 The Prize Wrestler and Demon 3 The Feathered Fiend 12 The Ghosts of Kenegie 21 Laying Wild Harris's Ghost , 26 Cornish Castles 37 The Haunted Lawyer » 39 Hallantide : or a St. Just Feast fifty years ago 48 Mill Stories _. 60 A Poor Tinner's Feast 62 An old Droll about a Poor Tinner's Feast 69 A Madron Feast of fifty years ago 73 ' Zeruior Hearthside Stories SO The Seaman's Ghost ai The Old Woman's Ghost 88 The Mutton Feast of St. Ives 89 The Witch of Kerrow 91 Fairies on the Eastern Green .., 92 The last Threatened Invasion : Commotion and False Alarm in the West , 95 Mai Treloare and Sandry Kemp kiss and become good friends again : or Backbiting Crull out wi tted 97 The Three Geese 100 The Earl of Stairs' Son 105 From Penzance to Carn Galva : Noteworthy objects by the way 114 Madron 114 Madron Well. 115 Madron Chapel 117 VI. CONTENTS. PAGE Lanyon Quoit , 117 Lanyon Town Place and House 119 Tlie Crick-stone 119 MenScryfa 121 The Pour Parishes 121 The Giant of Cam Galva 122 The Penzance of our GrainifatlK i>, 126 The Old Market-House and its aurrounrJings 126 The Battle of Architfeotural StyliS 128 The Self taught Architect .. 128 • The Bustle of a Market Day 129 Madam Trezillian's Head-Dress 130 The Ancient Fish- Women uf Penzance 131 The School -days and Home of Pellew 131 The Westei-n a]i])roach to Penzance. 133 Parson Spry and his Wo'idrn Horse and Dog '■ S])ort '' .. 133 The T!('v. .Jiiines B(^van ., 137 Coiintiy Clerks and Country Clifiiis ] 3S Old Cliristiniis f'arols .,138 A nciput mode of conducting Funerals 132 Former means of information among the people 140 The Astrologers of the West Ill Conjurors and their Spoils 142 Old Justice Jones 143 Tho Vingoos of Trinillf , j^.;} Pellew and his Cornish crow I44 A ncient Games m Old methods of Couvi-yaiic'— Riding Pillion U.") Popular Songs of the tinn-s, iiarllirook, and Sentimental Ditties j^g Gri-en Lanes and Foot[iaths 14g Pack-Saddles, ic j^^g Going to Town on Market-day I4.9 Early part of this Century igy An old-fashioned greeting igi CONTENTS. ' VU. PAGE The Ghosts of Chapel-street and St. Mary's Chapel-yard L^Sa Local Nicknames 155 Merry-geeks and Market-Jew Crows 155 Lndgvan Hurlers and Gulval Bulls ..: 155 Moushal Cut-throats and Ne wlyn Buckas 156 Sancras Pigs and Bui-yan Boars 156 St. Levan Witches, &c 157 Santust Fuggans and Morvah Chick -chacks '. 158 Nanoledrea Rats and Zennor Goats , 158 Towednack Cuckoos and St. Ives Hakes .; 159 ,A Cornish Droll : Betty Toddy and her Gown .'.,. 161 The Ghost-layer ; 171 Cornish Dialogue between two old men , ,17.3 A Dialogue between Gracey Peni'ose and Mally Trevisky ... 175 Christmas Carols ,.,., , 177 Ancient Midsummer Customs 179 The"Hilla" : Ibl The Ancient Cornish Language in the Colonies 183 According how ei may drop ' 18-1- Gornish words in use ., 18" Cornish observances with regard to the Sun and lUooii 187 Cornish Conj iirors' Charms against Witchcraft 190 All on one side, like Smoothy's wedding 193 Piikies 193 Old ConiLSii Words 195 Glossary , of Local Words 197 Sub.scribers' Names .' ,.,.,.' 199 ERKATA. Page 83.— For 32nd, read 47th. ,, 197. — Insert navers, the darnel, „ 198. — For " gleanings, &c.," read " naked oats " {ai'ina nuda). LEGENDS OF LADOCK. "A good man there was of religioun, That was a poure persone of a toun : But riche he was of holy thought and werk, He was also a lemed man — a clerk. And though he holy were and vertuous, He was to sinful men not despitous, Ne of his speche dangerous ne digne (proud), But in his teohing discrete and benigne." Chatiobk. otf^r. ■ l^fflK LITTLE more than a century ago the Rector of Ladock l^ilp^ was the Rev. Mr. "Wood, who was a most zealous churchman even in the days of misty prejudice, when churchmen in general looked upon nonconformists as scabbed sheep in their fold, and held that no schismatics f were to be tolerated. From having unwavering faith in f the grace conferred by his ordination, he was endowed with remarkable powers as an exorcist and ghost-layer. rhe reverend gentleman was also an adept in astrology and other )ccult sciences, which enabled him to perform wcmders. The limple folk of that secluded place, believing that their good parson )ossessed more knowledge than is attributed to ordinary members )f the three learned professions combined, sought his aid in their jhysical infirmities and social disturbances, as well as for their spiritual wants. These simple, honest people were not much iroubled in regard to the latter. In those tranquil times they vere comparatively temperate in religious matters. There were nany traits in the secular side of Mr. Wood's character for which je was much liked and respected. If any dispute arose between lis parishioners the matter was referred to him ; and, such was their 3onfi.dence in the justice of his award, that they always abided by tiis decision. If they had difficulties in parish business the parson jxplained the law on the subject, and the matter was settled iccordingly. With the youngsters, too, he was a great favourite. He encouraged them to keep up the old games of wrestling, hurling, md other manly sports. The silver hurlLng-ball was left in the mrson's care, and at the Tides, when he gave it to the young men, le would say to them, " IVow, my h@ys, he on your honour with each }ther, and let it he your pride to hehave according to the legend A 2 LEGENDS OP LADOCE. engraved on your hall, in old Cornish, which means, as you know, that ' Fair Play is Good Play ! ' Be sure, too, that One and AIL observe the ancient laws of your games, which I will explain to ye if there should he any uncertainty." Mr. Wood mostly gratified the youngsters by being a spectator of tbeir games, and, unless he appeared on the Green, some of them went to request his presence. He would often say to the men, "A knowledge of the science of wrestling is as necessary as that of boxing to give one a ready means of self-defence. Besides, it is a respectable exercise from its antiquity. Old chroniclers say that the hero Oorineus (or Corin) with his Trojan hosts, by their faculty of wrestling subdued the Giants by whom this Western Land was possessed when he and Brutus, with their followers, landed at Totnes." He told them how Corin threw the Giants' king, Gogmagog, on Plymouth Hoe, and then cast him headlong into the sea over the cHff ever since called Langomagog, or the Giant's Leap. " For whicli the conquering Brute, on Corineus brave This horn of land bestowed, and mariced it with his name. Of Corin, Cornwall oaU'd, to his immortal fame. " " Soon after this," Mr. Wood used to say, "the rest of the giants died for grief. The remembrance of Corin's exploit was also preserved by the figures of the wrestlers being cut out in the turf on Pl3rmouth Hoe. These were renewed as they were worn out. The Cornish should be proud to excel in this exercise, for the remembrance of the great Corineus from whom they are said to derive their pedigree ! So shew yourselves like brave Trojans, my boys — equally ready to fairly fight and then to feast with their opponents, using no curuiing wiles or tricks to betray. They were good hurlers, too, as well as wrestlers. Besides this, our old heroic games, and the chase, which may be classed with them, afford such wholesome excitement as serves to dispel melancholy thoughts, which, if they be brooded over, are apt to render people crazy, especially when they lead such solitary lives as most country-folk must. The wisest of eastern sages ha.s said that there are proper times for joyous diversions as well as for labour. Such old romances, too, as are related aroimd the \vinter's hearth, serve the same good purpose in that dreary season." It seems that, formerly, in spite of all the subtle disguises that the devil assumed, he was mostly known when ranoiucr abroad ■ and Mr. Wood was always able to detect and conquer him, if he ventured within his jurisdiction. The parson changed the Evil One into the shape of an animal, and then belaboured the infernal beast lustily with his hunting-whip, until it ran away, howlino- like Tregagle. When walking, Mr. Wood usually carried a stout ebony stick. On its massive silver head was engraved a pentacle or THE PRIZE WRESTLER AND DEMON. S Solomon's seal, and on a broad ring or ferrule, just below the knob, were planetary signs and mystical figures. This staff was regarded with curiosity and awe. It was said that, by means of it, " he ruled the planets, controuled evil spirits, repelled witchcraft, and performed supernatural work generally." The following stories are still told by the winter's fireside in Ladock and adjacent parishes. As iisual there are various versions, which differ in detail, because our old droll-tellers claimed a free flight for fancy in such portions of their stories as admitted of it. THE PRIZE WRESTLER AND DEMON. •■s»- |HERE was a famous wrestler of Ladock, called John Trevail, though more generally known among his comrades as " Cousin Jackey," from the common practice of thus styling favourites who may be no relation. One Midsummer's-day Jackey went into a neighbouring parish and threw their champion wrestler. In his pride, he said, as he swaggered round the ring, " I am open to a challenge from any man, and wouldn't mind having a hitch with the Devil himself, ef he'd venture !" After the wrestling he passed a few hours with his comrades in the public-hoiise. On his way home, alone, about the " turn of night," he came to a common called Le Pens Plat, which is two miles or more from Ladock Churchtown. As he was going on slowly, from being somewhat tired, and not very steady in the head, he was overtaken by a gentleman dressed like a clergyman, who accosted him in gentle tones, saying, " I was at the wrestling to-day, and I think you are the prize wrestler. Am I right 1" " Yes, sir, I won the prize that I now carry," replied Trevail, who felt very uneasy at meeting there such a strange, black-coated gentleman at that time of night, though a full moon and clear sky made it almost as light as day. " I am very fond of wrestling myself," resumed the stranger ; " it's an ancient, manlike exercise, for which we Cornishmen have have always been renowned ; and, as I want to learn more science in my play, I should much like to try a bout with you ; say for your gold-lace hat and five guineas, which I will stake," 4 ' THE PRIZE WRESTLER AND DEMON. " Not now, sir, for I'm tired," Jackey replied, " but I'll play you after dinner-time if you please, when I've liad a few hours rest say two or three o'clock, if it will please you." " Oh no ; it must be at midnight, or soon after, now the nights are short," said the stranger ; "it would never do for one m my position to be seen here wrestling with you, high by day ; it would scandahze my cloth in these particular and gossip-loving times." Trevail hesitated, and thought of the wild words he had uttered in the ring. He had then challenged the DevU, and he felt persuaded that he was now face to face with his enemy, in this lonely spot. Thinking it best, however, to be as civil as possible, he agreed to the stranger's proposal to meet him there at midnight, or soon after ; they shook hands to the bargain, and the gentleman gave him a purse with five guineas in it for his stake, saying at the same time — " You are well known to be an honest fellow, I've no fear of your not bringing the money and your prize won to-day ; and if, by any mischance, I shouldn't come, the money is yours ; but - there's little doubt of my beiug here sharp upon midnight." He then wished Jackey good morrow, and went away over the common by another path leading northward. The poor fellow felt, as he trudged along homeward, that he had sold himself to the Old One. In looking down, when he said good morrow (he couldn't bear the stranger's eye) he saw w;hat he believed to be a cloven foot peeping from beneath his long black skirts. Poor fellow ! he felt as bad as gone, unless he could be rescued some way. But he could devise no plan by which to avoid his fate. Dragging himself along, as best he could, afraid to look behind him, he got to his dwelling about three o'clock bx tRe morning. His wife, on heariiig the door opened, came downstairs. Seeing Jackey's haggard looks she refrained from " jawing " him as usual, when he came home late, and the want of her rough talk made him feel worse than ever. Jackey took from his pocket the bag of guineas, and threw it into the tool-chest, among a lot of lumber, saying, " Molly, my dear, doesn't thee touch that shammy leather bag for the world ! 'Tes the Devil's money that's in am !" Little by little he told her what had happened on the common, and concluded by moaning out, " Oh Molly, my dear, thee hast often wished that Old Neck would come and take me away bodily, and now et do seem es ef thy prayers are to be answered." "No, no, Jackey my son, never think of et," sobbed she; "whatever I said was only from the lips outwards, and that's of no effect, my darlin. I can't afford to lose thee yet for awhile. As the sayan es, ' Bad as thee art it might be wes (worse) without thee.' Go the wayst up to bed, my son, et mayn't come to that for awhile : I'll MR. WOODS ASSISTANCE. fi this minute put on my cloak and hat, and away to the passen. No good for thee, nor all the world, to say no, for he only can save thee.'' On her way to beg Mr. Wood's as.sistance she called up a ctoney with whom she was on pretty fair terms just then. " Arrea ! soas ; what's the matter V exclaimed the gossip, looking from her chamber-window. " Have anybody cried out that you're in such 'stroath' (hurry) at this untimely hour." "Come along to the passen's," replied Molly. "I'm so 'flam- bustered ' (worried) I can hardly speak. Somethan dreadful have happened to our Jackey ; and you mustn't drop a word to anybody, for your life, of what I'll tell 'e on the road." The reverend gentleman, being an early riser, was standing at his door, looking out in the grey of the morning, when he saw the two women, in much agitation, coming towards him. Ere he had time to speak, Jackey's wife, with her apron to her eyes, sobbed out, " Oh, your reverence, I be a poor woman ruined and undone, that I be ; for our dear Jackey have ben and sold hisself to the Old One, and will be carried away bodily the Very next night ef you don't save am ! That a will." After some questions Mr. Wood got an inkling of the case, and said to Molly, " Make haste home, my good woman, and tell Jackey, from me, to cheer up ; I'll see bim presently and tell him how to act, and I'm pretty sure the Devil will meet his match, with my assistance." Shortly after svLorise Mr. Wood entered the wrestler's dwelling, and found him stretched on the chimney-stool, sound asleep. When Jackey knew the wise step his wife had taken — the only one indeed of any use under the circumstances — he became tranquil, and, worn out as he was with great exertion of body and mind, he soon forgot his troubles. Mr. Wood roused him and said, "Why, Jackey, is there any truth in what your wife has just told me, or did you fall asleep on the common and have an ugly dream ? The chamois-bag that Molly spoke of may contain nothing more than wart^stones that bad luck cast in your way ; but teU me what happened from first to last, and let's see the bag." Trevail related his adventures, and concluded by saying, " Tes all like an ugly dream, sure enow, your reverence, and I wish it were nothing else, but the Old One's money es there in my tool-chest, and I remember every word that passed ; besides I should know him again among ten thousand,^ — such fiery eyes I never beheld in any other head, to say nothan of the glimpse I had of his cloven foot." Then Jackey brought the bag, holding it at arm's length with a pincers, as he might a toad. Urged on, he opened it and turned out five pieces of glittering gold. The parson, having examined them, said. 6 THE PRIZE WRESTLER AND DEMON. "The sight of these spade guineas, with what you have told me, leave no doubt that you bargained to wrestle with the Devil ; for he it is ; you could get this gold no other way ; I'm certain you wouldn't use unfair means to obtain it. The money seems good enough, whatever mint it might have been coined in. Yet take courage, you must be as good as your word, and to-night meet the Old One, as you call him. Don't fail to be at the appointed place by midnight, and take with you the stakes, as agreed on." Jackey looked very dejected on hearing this ; intimated that he didn't like to go alone, and that he had trusted to have Mr. Wood's company. " You must keep your word with the Devil," continued the parson, "or he may come and fetch you when least expected. J shall not go with you, yet depend on it I'll be near at hand to protect you against unfair play." Whilst saying this Mr. Wood took from his pocket-book a slip of parchment, on which certain mystic signs and words were traced or written. " Secure this in the left-hand side of your waistcoat," said he, in giving it to Jackey ; " don't change your waistcoat, and be "sure to wear it in the encounter ; above all, mind ye — show no fear, but behave with him precisely as you would with any ordinary wrestler, and don't spare him, or be fooled by his devices." Jackey's wife now came in. She had been " courseying " (gossiping) on the road, to ease her mind. Mr. Wood left the dwelliag ; and Trevail, now in pretty good heart, went with him some distance. On parting the parson cautioned him to keep the matter private. " That I will be sure to do," replied Jackey ; "I havn't told a living soul but my wife, and she can keep a secret first-rate — for a woman. There's no fear now of my showing a white feather, thanks to your reverence." At the appointed time our prize-wrestler went boldly to Le Pens Plat Common and waited near the spot agreed on. At midnight the gentleman in black arrived by the same path he took in the morning. They looked hard at each other for some minutes without speaking, till Trevail said, " I'm come in good time you see, and there are the prizes on that rock. You know the rules of the game, I suppose, that one must lay hold above the waist ; whichever makes three falls in five bouts wins the prize; it belongs to you, as the challenger, to take the first hitch." Still the stranger made no reply, and kept liis gleaming eyes on the wrestler, who, feeling uncomfortable under his persistent stare, looked towards the rock, where the prizes lay, and said, "Then, if you won't wrestle, take your money, and no harm done." THE CONTEST. 7 That instant Trevail felt himself seized, all unawares, by his waistband and lifted clear ofi the ground. It seemed to the man as if the Old One rose with him many yards above the earth ; and its "far-re-well to all the world with me now," thought Cousin. Jaokey to himself. During a desperate struggle in the air, however, the man got his right arm over his opponent's shoulder, and grabbing him on the back with a good holdfast, took a crook with his legs. In the encounter the wrestler's breast, or rather his waistcoat, touched the Evil One, who on the instant lost his hold, fell flat on his back, as if knocked down, and writhed on the ground like a wounded snake. The wrestler pitched to his feet as he came down, never the worse, but his temper was now raised to such a point that he was ready to fight or wrestle with any man or devil. The other rose up with fury in his countenance, and exclaimed, " You have some concealed weapon about ye that has wounded me ; cast off that waistcoat." " No, by golls," replied Jackey, " that I wont, to please ye; feel my jacket if you like ; there's no blade in am' not even a pin's point, but 'tes you that show the queer tricks ; catch me off my guard again ef you can." Saying this he clenched the Old One like a vice; but they had a hard struggle for more than five minutes, pushing and dragging each other to and fro at arm's length. The Old One seemed afraid to close in. Jackey felt all out of sorts with the blasting gleams of the other's evil eyes, and couldn't get a crook with his legs. At last, making a desperate plunge, he freed himself from the Devil's grasp ; took him with the " flying-mare," and threw him on his back with such a " qualk " as made him belch brimstone fumes. The devil quickly sprung up, looking very furious, and said, " I'm deceived in. you, for your play is very rough, and I desire you to request Parson Wood to go home. I am confused and powerless whilst he is looking on." " I don't see Mr. Wood, nor anybody else but you,'' retvxrned Jackey. " Your sight mayn't be so good as mine," replied the other. " I can only just see his eyes glaring on me from between the bushes on yonder hedge, and I hear him mumbling something too. ' If I'm foiled again it will be all owing to your confounding parson. I hope to serve him out for this some day." " Never mind our passon, he can wrestle very well himself," said Jackey in a cheerful tone, " and do like to see good play; so come on, at it agen." Saying this he grasped his opponent in a " Cornish hug," with more vigour than ever, laid him on his back as flat as a flounder, and said, " There, you have had three fair falls ; but if 8 THE PRIZE WRESTLER AND DEMON. they don't satisfy 'e, I've more science to teach 'e yet." The wrestler kept a sharp eye on the prostrate one, intending to give him another thumping qualk the instant he rose, unless he asked for quarter. During the half minute or so that he watched the demon crameing on the ground like a serpent, the sky became overcast, and the moon obscured with gathering clouds, which seemed bursting with thunder. Looking closely, in the dim light, at the gentleman in black, Jackey was frightened to see that, in a twinkling, his feet and legs had become like those of a huge bird ; his skirts changed to a pair of wings ; and his form was still changing to that of a dragon, when he flew away, just skimming the ground at first, and leaving in his wake a train of lurid flame ; then soared aloft and entered the pitch black clouds, which, on the instant, became all ablaze with lightning, and thunders roared, echoing all around frohi hill to hill. As the black cloud ascended, with a whirling motion, it appeared like an immense wheel revolving in the air, flashing lightning and shooting thunder-bolts from all ai-ound its border. The demon's sudden change and flight, with the noxious vapours spread around, so confused and stupefied Jackey, that for a minute or so he lost sight of all above and below. Whilst still like one in a trance, gazing on the sky, now clear overhead, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard Parson- Wood say, in cheery tones, " Well done, my boy ; I was proud to see thy courage and good play. See, there's the devil's battery," continued he, pointing to a small black cloud so far away as to be almost lost to view ; and casting a glance round he noticed, on a rock, Jackey's gold-lace hat and the bag of money. " Come, my son, rouse thee," said he, " take up thy prizes and let's be off homeward." The wrestler took up his hat, but looked askaunt on the bag of guineas, as if unwilling to touch it. "Take the money," urged Mr. Wood. "It's fairly won; but some old sayings are passing in thy mind such as ' A guinea of the devil's money is sure to go, and take ten more with it.' ' What's gained over the fiend's back will slip away under his belly;' and other old saws of the like meaning, which don't refer to such money as that ; but to unfair gains gotten by those thieves in heart who are too greedy to be honest. Yet even such often hold fast the cash for themselves and theirs, when the devil cries quits by taking them all at last." Trevail took up the bag, and, as he pocketed it, a flash of light drew their attention to the fiend's retreat, now so high that it appeared a mere dot in the clear sky. They saw a streak of fire leave it, and, descending like a shooting star, fall in a neighbouring parish. ST. ENDOR WITCHES. 9 "Mark that, Jackey !" exclaimed Mr. Wood, "for it's no other than your wrestling devil, or one of his company, who has come down amongst St. Endor witches ; and it strikes me that we havn't seen the last of him yet." " There's a hut on a moor just where he dropped," said Jackey, " in which a number of hags meet every now and then ; and when they have agreed on the mischief they are to work, about midnight they fly away on their brooms or ragwort stalks. In the small hours of morning they are often seen beating homewards in the shape of hares. Many old hags over that way get what they like for the asking. If any one of them hap to be refused she'll shake her bony finger at the one who denies her, and say, 'You will wish you ^lad,' and sure enow, from the fear of some ill wish falling on them or theirs, the old witch is pretty sure to get all she looked for." On their way home Jackey thanked the parson most heartily for his protection, and told him that in the fii«t bout he thought all was over for him in this world, when the Old One rose with him off the earth " ever so high." " You are mistaken in that, my son," replied Mr. Wood, " it was only your fright on being seized unawares and suddenly lifted off the ground that made ye think so ; for, to give the devil his due, he never tried to fl}' away with you. I saw it all, and precautions had been taken to guard against foul play on his part, if any tricks were attempted, as you will understand by-and-bye, when I tell you of my night's work." Jackey didn't contradict the reverend gentleman, but he was of the same opinion still ; and whenever he told the story in after years, always asserted that on his first hitch he was taken up "towers high," and still getting higher, until he came to close quartere with the Old One. " I have had a busy time of it," continued Mr. Wood. " Long before midnight I was on the ground — which I knew from your description to be the place of your encounter, — and summoned thither many powerful spirits, who attended with pleasure to see such a wrestling. They hadn't, of late, beheld the like, though, in days of yore, contests between men and demons were not unfrequent. The one you have conquered is a devil of high rank. He came attended by a great number of lower degree ; and precautions were taken to place around ye a ring of my true and valiant spirits, who made your opponent's attendant fiends remain in an outer circle. " Besides, there were crowds of vagrant spirits wandering to and fro, on the earth and in the air, as is their custom from midnight to cock-crowing ; all of them stopped to witness your contest. They were all visible to me, though by you unseen ; and well for ye it was so, because a sight of such beings would be sure to shock 10 THE PRIZE WRESTLER AND DEMON. ye or any other unprepared mortal. Many in the crowd were very ghastly in appearance. Your demon's retainers were in their usual form, which suits them for air or earth. " Many bets were made between the spectators in both circles and overhead ; and a great many of the demon's backers are bound to serve the winners for ages. They don't much mind that, however. Time hangs heavy on their hands ; and of all spirits, fallen ones are the most restless, as it goes against their grain to, do mortals a good turn. For the sake of some change in their wearisome existence they lise tempests, serve the evil behests of witches, and perform other acts of deviltry, such as we often hear of ; yet they are a melancholy set that one might pity." The wrestler expressed his wonder at what the parson related ; yet, from what he had heard of devils' doings, wasn't much surprised. Over a while Mr. Wood resumed, "I am somewhat chagrined though all has gone well on the whole ; for I was watching to see thee give three fair falls, intending then to rush on the devil and shame him, if possible, with a lusty thrashing with my hunting- whip, it's fastened round my waist ; but, as bad luck would have it, in getting hastily over the hedge my skirts caught in brambles, and I dropped my ebony staff. That instant, whilst it lay on the earth, the demon took a form which used to be common amongst the infernal brood. At his signal the attendant fiends formed a thunder-cloud to receive their chief. The guardian spirits, well pleased, only quitted their charge when my hand was laid on your shoulder ; all the rest you saw." " I have often heard," said Jackey, of a dragon that burned Helston, was that a devil too V "Very likely, or something as bad," replied Mr. Wood. "The tradition handed down simply says that, in old times, before there was a bar formed at the Loe, and when the tide flowed past the site of St. John's Mill, a dragon often came from over sea and burnt the ancient town. Yet the dragon which visited Helston might only have been a northern pirate's ship known by that name. " I was going to tell you that I owe this wrestling devil a grudge. Who, indeed, in my place wouldn't be vexed with the beast for taking the disguise he so impudently assumed ] Decked as he was in a three cocked beaver and black garments, he might easily pass himself off for a clergyman, without a close scrutiny." " I thought sure he was," said Jackey, " he wore a white neck- cloth too ; and one could hardly make out if he had a cloven foo't or no." From walking slowly home it was broad day when they arrived at the parsonage. Mr. Wood gave the wrestler a substantial breakfast of cold beef, bread, and ale. After a hearty meal, Jackey MORE TROUBLES. 11 said, "I should be glad to serve yovir rererence at any hour by day or by night, for I owe you more than life." " Not so, my son," the parson replied, " for I have only done my duty in guarding from the wolf a wild and thoughtless one of my flock." The money, however, did the wrestler but little if any good, and it was the cause of quarrels between him and his wife, and of both with their neighbours. Jackey soon learnt how it was rumoured all around that he had sold himself to the Old One to have his wishes gratified for a few years, with the usual consequences to follow. Now he had told nobody but his wife — of course, Mr. Wood's prudence was not to be suspected, — and she had only spoken of her trouble to her crony, who went with her to the parson. Accordingly, dame Trevail accused her gossip of having spread many falsehoods round the parish, and abused her for the breach of confidence. The crony retorted by saying, " Pool that thee art, however oust (canst) thee expect me, or anybody else, to keep thy secrets, when thee cusn't keep them thyself? And what do I care ; I han't had any share of thy dirty money ; by golls ! I wedn't touchen weth a peer of tongs ; I han't got a spoon long enow to sup weth thy old gentleman. 'All the neighbours do say that of late, since thee hast had thy new rig out, from top to toe, thee art become so huffish and toit (uncivil in reply) that they can't venture to say ' What cheer,' or give thee the ' time o' day'; and that poor Cousin Jackey han't got a minute's peace in his own house with thy constant ballarggan (abuse) and naggan that will fret am to death before long. Then thee mayst wring thy hands and cry ' bad as Jackey was, a es wes (worse) to live without am.' Well, soase ! my bedgownd and towser (large coarse apron to come all round and tie behind) es good enow for me or any other honest workan woman. They say that thee wert decked out like a lady in church a Sunday, with thy new covertail (kirtle) gownd, who but thee forsooth ! A clean bedgownd, check-apron, and quilted-pettiooat do more become thee. 'Tes no wender people do gibe thee for thy pride ; and 'tes as good as an old ' merable ' play to hear what they do say about thee. Now, go thee wast along home, and think over what I've told thee." For many years after this Jackey continued to be the champion wrestler of his neighbourhood; and the story of his midnight adventure took the form of a droll just like the above. Shortly after Mr. Wood gave the wrestler his ghostly aid, the reverend gentleman had much fiendish annoyance on that account, as will be seen in the sequel to this story. One may remark that many old folks often compare a droll subject to an old miracle )jlay, though they have but a misty idea ]2 THE FEATHERED FIEND. of what it was. The other day an elderly man of Newlyn, in speaking of old droll-tellers meeting together and spinning their yams, said, "It is as good as an old miracle-play to hear them." On my asking what an old miracle play was, he replied that he couldn't say exactly, but from what he had heard, he thought it was much the same as an old guise-dance. He wasn't much out, as " St. George and the Dragon " was the guise-dance he had in view. THE FEATHERED FIEND. iADOCK men were famous ringers of old ; but from a few H weeks before their champion's victory over the demon- wrestler, the fine old bells of their church had been silent because their ropes were quite worn out, and other gearing connected with them required repairs to be used with safety. Shortly after Trevail's victory, an evil spirit, in the form of a very large bird, with coal-black plumage, and fiery eyes, but of a kind unknown to Ladock folks, was seen perched on the tower for several nights in succession, where it remained for hours jumping from one pinnacle to another, and making an unnatural clamour, which was heard far away. Shortly after it came by day, and even during Divine Service. The pastor and his flock were distracted by its croaking and cawing, as if in derision. When the clerk, with five or six other elderly men and two women, who formed the choir, quavered through the psalms — ^whioh they sung in parts, much in the mode of old " three-man-songs," -^this feathered fiend, just over their heads, on the tower, would utter such infernal noises as to make sad discord of the old men's music. The clerk seldom used a book, as he knew pretty well, by heart, the three or four psalms they usually sung ; but sometimes he would commence with a verse from one, and then give out portions of others ; and now his memory was so confused by irritation that one Sunday he concluded by giving, — " And now may Heaven amend us all. And into bliss us bring ! " , Happily the two female singers discovered his mistake as he was going to finish the verse with — " This was the hunting of the Cheviot : God send us all good ending ! " Every now and then the accursed thing would mimic all sorts CLEEK COURTNEY. 13 of familiar but jarring sounds ; sometimes it screeched " like a pig caught in a gate;" then quickly changed its note to imitate the cry of hounds in full chase ; or the cackling- and scolding of old women. By such noises coming down from the elevated site, many of the congregation were constrained to burst out in roars of laughter, which, like yawning, is very catching. Prim folks, who put great restraint on themselves in order to retain a solemn demeanour, suffered such pains that they had to leave Church and give vent to their pent up feeling. Mr. Wood was nonplussed ; the Evil One was too high up to be reached with his hunting-whip, and the methods by which he had formerly exorcised demons now failed. From this one's position, he could not comply with all the prescribed formulas, such as enclosing him in a magic circle, &c. The reverend gentleman felt his fame as an exorcist was at stake. He told his people that the accursed thing was no other than a mean mocking devil sent thither by the demon-wrestler to torment him, out of revenge for his aid to their champion, whereby Jackey's victory and the Evil One's discomfiture were assured. The increasing vexation continued for many weeks, until Mr. Wood was struck with an idea which he turned to good account ; and which should be recorded for the benefit of others who may ever have to encounter the like difficulties. One Sunday, after evening service, when the congregation had dispersed— the clerk and sexton waiting in the porch, — the parson came out of the Church sighing, " Oh ! for how long is this grevious trial to endure;" and, turning to his clerk, said, "We and the people might as well have stayed at home for all the benefit derived by them from either the service or the sermon this after- noon. I could not help observing that their attention was more given to the horrid noises' which reached them from the tower than to my instructions from the pulpit." " It's a very hard tryal for you, to be sure," replied the clerk, " but, as for me, I've more than once had a great mind to smash my bass-viol and rush out of Church ; 'tes always hard work for me to keep our singers in time and tune ; and now, with this screechan devil on the tower, we are always in confusion, and might as well sing ' Chevy Chace ' for all the words anybody can hear ; et wed try the patience of Job ef he, like me, had a ' pare ' of singers to lead, and the devel makan such a ' drilzey ' (irritating noise) over hes head ; it wed be wes for am than havan to listen to hes conceited com " " Pray thee leave Job and his comforters for the time," exclaimed Mr. Wood. " The good man, like many another, might well say, ' Save me from my friends.' I noticed, too, that many strangers come from a great distance, more and more every Sunday, drawn 14 THE FEATHERED FIEND. hither by curiosity. I have tried all authorised means for expelling demons that the position taken by this one admits of ; but I find the truth of what has long been said, that, of all devils, those of the mocking kind are the most difiicult to subdue ; they may be likened unto hairbrained, self-conceited fools amongst mortals, who can only be ruled by the rod, and this fiend keeps too high up to be reached by my whip. Yet sometimes, indeed, when I read to the fiend at the utmost pitch of ray voice, he remained so still that I hoped he was being subjected to my will; but the conjuration or incantation ended, he always hopped upon a pinnacle, cocked his tail, danced round, and cried caw, caw, as much as to say it's all a farce, and I like to hear your voice." " Now only to think of es emperance," murmured the clerk. " T have heard, too," continued Mr. Wood, " that some thought- less yoimgsters have proposed to try on him the virtues of powder and lead. I am glad to learn, however, that they have been better advised ; the result of such temerity would, probably, be something awful for them. I now come to the particular matter I wish to speak with you about. " During a long pause I had to make in my sermon this after- noon, whilst the plumed devil, took his turn, a thought occurred to me which I hoped might be a happy inspiration." " Goodness grant et," cried the impatient clerk; "do 'e tell me what et es, and hear the devil screaman now." " You know what is said in Holy Writ respecting little children," resumed Mr. Wood. You likewise know that sage old folks have a saying, ' the Evil. One can't endure the sight of an innocent chUd,' and " "Aye, verily," interrupted the clerk; "bless me, sure 'tes a wender I dedn't think of that before, why old people — who are the only ones that know anything — say a babe in a house es more use to keep evil sperats out of en than a five-poirtted star (pentagram) cut on the drussell (door-sill), and any number of hos shoes nailed to the lentran (lintel). Besides, we all know the rash lawyer who summoned the sperat of that unjust stewart, Jan Tregagle, into Court, by sayau, ' ef Tregagle seed the money paid, may Tregagle appear and declare et.' By the time the words were well out of hes mouth, the enraged sperat stood before am, sayan, — 'Thee hast found et easy to bring me hei-e, but thee west find et harder to put me away agen ;' and the enraged Tregagle wed ha torn the lawyer lem from lem, ef he hadn't snatched a little chUd from a, woman's arms and held et in hes own. Weth that protection he defied the wild sperat — who was jest the same as a devil, from beean weth them so long, — drove am into a corner and pinned am there, while all the other people tore out of Court, for their lives except the cheeld's mother and the judge. As a was 'sizes there TREOAGLE. 15 happened to be many passens in town (Bodmin), and they, on hearan of et, went all together to lay Tregagle. You know what trouble they had nearly all night, and couldn't quell the 'sperat till the Rector of Roach came among them and " " Ho ! " exclaimed the parson, " west thee keep me here all night with thy endless fables about Tregagle, that we have all heard from our childhood. Listen to what I was about to say regarding the means whereby I hope to expel this fiend from Ladock. " I suppose there are several unbaptised children in the parish, as many women have been in childbed, I know, since last Ladock- tide (the parish feast), but none of their children have been christened." " Haif a dozzen, or more, have ben in the straw," replied the old man, " and all their children are kept tel next feasten-tide, to be christened then, accordan to custom, that the same treat may serve for witnesses (sponsors) and feasters ; that et may be ' the more the merrier,' for feasten-time ; and some of them are nearly ready to tumble in agen before they've returned thanks for their last deliverance. I was gwean to say just now," continued the clerk, as Mr. Wood was about to speak, " that ef you had only been in the world in Tregagle's time, and qualified for a sperat- queller and devel-driver as you are now, that Evil One, who es more like a devel than a mortal's sperat, wedn't ha been left to carry on, in the way he ded, for many years ; after sweepan the sand from one West country cove to another, in a crack, when they were miles asunder ; stoppan up the Loo, and so changan Helston from a seaport to an inland town ; then back again for another job, and frightnan people out of their lives almost, with the devel and hes hounds chasan am round and round Gosmoor and about, tryan to keep am from the Chapel on the rock, where Tregagle always took refuge. Happely passons fixed am, at last, to team out Dosmery. There he'll have to stay, for ever and ever and aye. He mait as well try to dip the ocean dry weth hes leaky croggan (limpet shell) as that bottomless pool, which as a part of the sea, they say, as et do fall and rise with the ebb and flow of the tide ; and for a few minutes after the tide's turn to ebb, there's a whirlpool in the meddle of en, when bushes and other light things floatan near are sucked down, and sometime afterwards they rise agen in Falmouth Harbour or St. Austell Bay, I forget which, — some say the one and some 'tother. I wanted to ax 'e somethan about 'n, fearan I shud forget, but " "Stop-, for goodness sake," cried the pai'son, "leave Dosmery and Tregagle to the charge of Old Nick and be — be attentive to what I have fai'ther to say regarding our own devil, and the means to be essayed for driving him ; and when we have happily concluded, we will — on some winter's night — overhaul these old stories, to see 16 THK FEATHERED FIEND. if there be a few grains of truth underlaying the mass of fables. "Now, as I take it that recently baptised children have the greatest power to drive away evil spirits, I wish you to go round the parish to-morrow, and request all prudent women who have lately undergone the pains and perils of childbirth, to come and be churched next Sunday afternoon, if they are able, and to bring their babes to be christened at the same time. If a goodly number can't be got to come next Sunday, let it be on the following week, but arrange with the mothers that they all come at the same time." "I'll do the best I can, accordan to your wishes, replied the clerk, " but they won't be willan to come before the feast, because poor people don't care to make two treats when one would do." " 'Tell them to give the sponsors cake and ale, for the time," replied Mr. Wood, and put off their chief entertainment tiU the tide, when we'll have a merry time of it. The feasten week I'll go round and visit them all ; and you, being fiddler-in -chief, shall have enough to do. Call at my house when you come back to tell me how you have got on, and that we settle on the number, and other matters to be observed." Whilst talking they had walked slowly towards the parsonage. The clerk having agreed to Mr. Wood's proposals, they wished each other good night and separated. Early on the following morning Clerk Courtney, as he was called, began his journey round the parish to ask the mothers of all unbaptized children to bring them to be christened the next Sunday afternoon. After ^stating the urgent reason for his request, the women replied to the effect that they would have preferred leaving their christenings till the feast, for the sake of economy ; yet being desirous, above all things, to please their good parson, they promised to attend, as required, and thought it nothing strange that they should be wanted for such an occasion, as they knew the trouble the devil had given, and the prevalent belief in the power of young children to I'out evil spirits. Few of the good dames were provided with wheaten flour, as barley-bread was the " staff of life " then in all labourera' and most small farmers' households. They told the clerk, however, that if they couldn't get wheat to take to mill, in time for making a christening cake, they would buy a few penny worth of biscuit, so as to have white-bread for offerings on their way to be "uprose." They would on no account neglect this old custom of giving to the first person met on the way to be churched a good slice of cake or wheaten bread of some sort ; it was believed to bring good luck to the giver, receiver, and child. The mother also drew a presage, from the first person by whom met or overtaken on leaving her threshold. She regarded en- countering boy or man as a good omen that her next born would TOUCHING THE CKAVEL. 17 be a boy, .Such was the dislike of many mothers to meeting another woman that they often left the path, or, if they saw no way for avoiding a meeting, the poor woman passed the omen of ill-luck on the right hand, as she would a witch, and appear not to see her. Yet their most general plan was to turn back home, if not far from it, and tyuch the " cravel " (mantle-stone across the head of an open chimney) with her forehead, and cast into the fire a handful of dry grass, or anything picked up, on the way back, that would burn ; then start again, hoping for better luck. The practice of resorting to the hearth and touching the " cravel " * with the head, is regarded as the most effectual means of averting any impending evils of a mysterious nature. The reasons for their preference of boys to girls may be found in the old sayings : — ■" While the boy is away his bread winning, the maid is home doing nothing but spinning." " Boys can take care of themselves, but maidens can't." The dames would all get a " half-a-strike " of w;heat each and take it to mill if they could. They liked going thither to " serge " (sift) their flour to their liking, and hear the latest gossip from the miller's wife, or other women who brought their grist. Mills were so noted as places for scandal, that any slanderous tale used to be called a "mill story." The mill, too, was the usual place of rendezvous for young folks of summers' evenings, when they generally had a dance, to music> from the miller's fiddle, — all the * The once general custom of "touching the cravel" for the piirpose of averting evils foreshadowed by iU-omens, &c., seems to have almost died out with the disuse of open fire-places for burning furze and turf. Some fifty years ago the practice must have been known all over the county, and farther ofli. A "pellar," called Lutey, then in great repute, enjoined those under his " protection " to perform the rite at stated periods, as a safeguard against witchcraft and bad luck generally. • In the spring — as soon as there was twelve hours sun — this wise man was resorted to by people from all parts of the county, and farther away, to have their " protection " renewed. This was always the term used, and its meaning well understood. Great numbers came over from the Scilly Islands, and the captains and crews of Welsh vessels trading to Hayle often sought this conjurer's aid. One may hope that the pleasant old Christmas pastime of burning ivy-leaves and rushes was still observed, last Twelfth-night, in some outlying hamlets where the good folks are not yet so " enlightened " as to conceive that they know much more than their grandparents. Those who have taken part in this old observance for obtaining presages regarding the most important events of life, know that "touching the cravel" must be carefully complied with on leaving the hearth to gather what they require ; and the first thing on their return, before any of them may speak, and their more interesting rites commence. If any of the company happen to speak by the way, the charm is spoiled, and the seeming presages will be unreliable, unless the incautious ones return, touch the cravel, and resume the work. One may be excused for dwelling so long on these almost forgotten customs, as they may have some significance, interestiog to antiquaries at least. It is high time to glean the little that remains of old-world observances ; for even in such remote places as the northern parishes, most folks, under middle age, are chary of giving any information about them. B 18 THE FEATHERED FIEND. old millers could play dance tunes. If the miller hadn't leisure, some of the merry company either beat up the time on a " crowd " (sieve-rind with a sheepskin bottom, used foi' taking up com, flour, &c.), or they sung verses of old ballads which suited the measure. We will no longer linger over our pleasing old customs. As most of the sponsors were courting couples, living in the parish, the clerk gave them timely notice, too, that the young women might get up their best rig-out, as he called it, against the grand occasion. Some of the mothers, poor dears, who were so earnest that there should be no " hitch " in the matter, accompanied the clerk to houses' where they apprehended finding any difficulty, to help him over it. They had no occasion, however, for the women, without exception, agreed they could go through "fire and water" to please their good parson. "Bless hes heart," said they, "hes door es always open to a poor body in want; he'd 'give ther shirt from hes back to any one in much distress ; and he esn't a bit sticked up, though wise man as he es, he might well be proud of his leaman." " 'Tes never his w;ay,'' said another, " to be like the old priest of the fable, who was ever ready weth hes blessan, but wed never bestow a farthan ; as for our passon, he wed have us all be merry and glad tell the end." "Aye, we all know there esn't his equal round about," said the clerk. " Moreover, et will be something for 'e all to remember weth pride ; and your cheldren's cheldren may well feel exalted to hear how their ' grammars ' help't to rout the devil from Ladock." Before night the old man was assured by as many mothers as he thought sufficient that they would bring their babes to be christened the next Sunday. On his way home he, called in at several farm-houses, in all of which he was made welcome with something substantial to eat, and good strong ale to help him on. The folks were always glad to have him and his violin at their merry-making times, such as "gulthise " ,(harvest-feast) weddings, christenings, feasten tides, &c., although he had no great variety of dance tunes. Soon after day-down he arrived back to the parsonage, not a bit the worse for liquor, because he had taken little else than good wholesome home-brewed. Having told Mr. Wood how he had succeeded, the reverend gentleman, after a pause, said, " You have done well, better in fact than I expected ; the number of women to be depended on amounts to eight, though you thought them more. Now everything is significant. It was held by wise men of yore, and is by many of the present day, that peculiar virtues belong to particular numbers, representing the signs of planetary and other powers; indeed, a magic square is as powerful for controling LUCKY NUMBERS. 19 demons as the impress of Solomon's seal, which you call the five- pointed star. So to neglect nothing which might tend to bur success, we will have a fortunate, or what you would call a lucky number of children. You know everybody hereabouts use nine in all their charms and many other matters. They also call old stone circles ' nine-maidens,' though they are, for the most part, formed of many more than nine stones. The latter part of this name, however, is a double corruption, first from the old Oomish men (stone) into medn (just as pen is changed to pedn) ; thence it became Saxonised to maiden, which, in turn, suggested foolish legends about dancing-maidens turned to stones to account for this unmeaning name. The general use of nine seems to indicate that the ancient inhabitants regarded it as a saci'ed number. According, to eastern sages, twelve is the best of all, because it contains the number of signs on the sun's yearly circuit, and for various other reasons. "So we will make up a round dozen with four of the youngest christened last year. You can go and select them to-morrow ; the mothers will make no difficulty, as they have nothing to provide ; and here, take this," said Mr. Wood, placing in the other's hand a good sum in silver, " and give it amongst the poor women, that they may buy biscuit for their offerings, and not want to ask for trust." The clerk, having supped heartily, promised to find the additional number on the morrow, and went home well content, particularly so because " the master," as he called the parson, had given him money for the poor mothers. Next Sunday afternoon a dozen matrons came with their infants and the sponsors. There were many strangers as well as the regular congregation, and the devil on the tower, making his usual disturbance. There were nine women churched; and as many children christened, after service ; when the parson walked out of Church, followed by twelve mothers, with their babes in their arms, and the godfathers and godmqthers, in a procession, marshalled by the clerk. They were all arranged in lines, five deep, the mothers in front, opposite the belfry door. Mr. Wood directed each mother to pass her child from one of its sponsors to the other, the last handing it to him. He then held it up awhile, that the devil might behold it, and returned it to its mother. All the babes having been thus passed from hand to hand, their mothers held them aloft, whilst the parson walked to and fi-o, before them, reading and cutting the air, in various figures, with his ebony staff". He read and read for a long spell, in loud tones, yet the infernal being still remained, — pretty silent, however, — 20 THE FEATHERED FIEND. " clutted in " close by a pinnacle, on the tower's eastern edge, where he seemed quite heedless of the important proceedings below. At last some of the children, becoming tired, perhaps, began to cry, the, others followed suit, and the twelve blessed babes, each one and altogether, seemed trying their utmost to scream the loudest ; whilst the parson read or recited with increased vehemence. Then it was that the fiend hopped over on to the western parapet, and stretching his neck glanced down on the good folks. The effect of what he heard and saw was magical ; at least it seemed so to the spectators. Giving a prolonged scream, which was heard for miles around, he darted straight up, to the height of a bow-shot, or more; then, shaping his course towaj-ds St. Ender, he quickly disappeared. Many of the spectators said they saw sparks and blue flames thrown off with every flap of his huge wiiigs ; but all of them agreed that his display of fire was nothing like what they had expected to behold when a devil takes his departure. Over a while, when it was found that he didn't return, there was great rejoicing in Ladook ; and he has nevermore been seen there from that time to this. The bells were put i^ order without delay, and their frequent joyous peals kept all such fiends at a distance. Note. — The clerk spoken of in the foregoing story was much respected by his neighbours on account of his ancient lineage ; he was a descendant of the Courtneys who long owned Tretnurf, in Ladock, and Kved there for many generations. THE GHOSTS OF KENEGIE. sLD folks of Gulval say that, in their grandparents time, the ancient mansion of Kenegie and its grounds were constantly haunted by three " sperats," and, on some nights by many more. The following stories respecting them were told by an aged tinner of Lelant, as they had been often related to him by his mother, who had lived for many years in service at Kenegie, previous to her marriage, about four- score years ago ; some incidents are also taken from other versions. The first ghost, of whom there is any remembrance, and the one which remained longest, was the spirit of a thrifty old Harris, who made great additions to the house and walled-gardens, and was most unwilling to die and leave them. This spirit, however, gave but little trouble. He merely came on a certain night in every year — which was known to his descendants — to review the place in which he had taken so much delight ; and only required that, on the night of his accustomed visit, the principal entrance- door should be left open, as well as one opposite, opening into a paved court surrounded by offices. At that time the grand entrance was approached by a straight, stately avenue, flanked by a bowling green, with a picturesque two- storied summer-house or " look-out " at its further end. It was believed that any negligence in leaving open these doors, at the stated time, would be a cause of misfortune to the Harris family, or a token of its decline. Consequently, this custom was duly observed from farther back than there is any remembrance, until within a few years of the time when the last Harris of Kenegie disposed of his ancestral home. 'Tis said that when the spii'it came and found the doors closed — through some mistake, it is supposed, — he made much unearthly wailing, till cock-crowing, then went moaning away and never returned. It is surmised that when the old family residence, in which he so much delighted, came into the possession of strangers, he neither desired to see it nor to hear of it again ; and that he has, ever since, shut himself up in his family vault, where he has plenty of company, as one may judge from the great number of monuments in Gulval Church, recording the virtues of his descendants. Before 22 THE GHOSTS OF KENEGIE. that unlucky time, crickets were heard chirriping around the hearths of their old home all night long ; but afterwards not one was heard or seen, — sure token of impending misfortune. The next ghostly visitor, and a more troublesome one, had been housekeeper and a great favoui-ite with a later Squire Hai-ris, much to the prejudice of his son and heir. The very night after her funeral, disturbances began; the whole household were annoyed by this husey of a ghost prancing along stone-paved passages, from one room to another — doors clashing and banging behind her, — till, she entered the kitchen, where she would next be heard winding- up the great roasting-jack, — one of the old fashioned noisy clock- work machines, kept in motion by a heavy weight passing through the chamber floors, and attached to a rope or chain working over screeching pullies, fixed somewhere in the upper regions of the mansion. After an interval of scolding, shrieking, and the other accessories of a row, she would beat the table or dresser-bed with a rolling-pin, and make the pewter-plates rattle, by way of announcing, as she was wont to do, that the roast was ready, and to summon the servants to dish it up. Between the thumps, she screeched " Quick, come quick ! " and another voice replied " Anon, anon ! " Then the parlour furniture would be shifted, as if preparations were in progress for entertaining a large company. At length the inmates were glad to hear her high-heeled shoes patting over stairs and along the gallery, until they stopped at her late master's bed- chamber door, which was usually the conclusion of her noisy exploits for the night. The shadowy figure of this old woman, in a long-bodied gown and kirtle, was frequently seen passing quickly through the court. Now and then it happened that a new servant, wishing to get ahead with her work — on washing days especially,— -and not hearing any disturbance, ventured downstairs in the small hours of the morning ; but, on entering the kitchen, her light was almost always blown out, and she got a slap in the face, from an invisible hand, that "made her see fire before her eyes;" and, on turning to leave the room, received a kick behind which made her remembe;r to stay abed till cock-crowing. This housekeeper was " put to rest," however, many years before the Harrises left their old home, nnd bound to perform such a task as she richly deserved. There are no particulars known of the way in which this was done ; it is only stated that some powerful exorcists — neighbouring clergymen, who were then supposed to possess power over ghostly visitants — succeeded, after much conjuration, in quelling her, in some measure; but, as she absolutely refused to leave the place, they compromised matters by confining . her to a small room, on the eastern or northern side of the WILD HARRIS'S GHOST. 23 nansion ; with her were placed a fleece of black wool, a pair of sards, a "pole and kiggal" (distaff and spindle) and knitting leedles. With these she was required to card the black fleece until t became white, and then to spin it and knit stockings of the yam. Eer closet door is walled up ,or plastered over, so that few know ixactly where it is situated, though old folks who served the Harris 'amily say they have often heard the clicking of cards in some •emote part of the buildings, and that thei-e was always a little lole, such as sparrows might nest in, through and through the wall ; if filled up, it was sure to be opened over night, without )eing touched by mortal hands. Whether this old jade's ghost still gives signs of her presence, is jest known to the inmates. One would gladly dismiss her, but ve shall have to mention her again in connection with " Wild larris," who next came back and haunted the place, down almost 10 recent times. The last Ghost of Kenegie — at least of whom there is any Tustworthy tradition — was that of a spendthrift heir, known as ' Wild Harris," who is best remembered, because ordinary parsons' ;oUective power was found insufficien,t to lay him. He extended lis walks all over the grounds and far away down in the " bottom" owards the mill. He was also often seen on horseback, chasing vith one hound, on Kenegie Downs and elsewhere. Belated market folks and others dreaded to pass Kenegie Gate, or they frequently saw the " Squire's sperat " standing in an alcove, ust over this grand entrance. The ghost mostly wore a steeple- Town and feather, hunting-coat and riding-boots, or a long, black fown an(^ flat cap, with lace and plume. He usually stood beside his family coat-of-arms, which may still )e seen, and glared down on the road with a look as immovable as hat of the lions carved in stone, that, on either hand, then guarded Re gate. Sometimes, too, he was beheld seated beside the hurchway-stUe, a few yards further up the hUl. Often on pproaching this spot, people were made aware of the spirit being leai", though invisible, by a sulpherous smell which pervaded the ilace. On winter nights, the Squire's ghost, with a dozen or more of lis " old comrades," or such-like spirits, would assemble in the lowling-green summer-house, where they might be seen and heard L'om the mansion even, talking, singing, swearing, and shouting, in , state of uproarious mirth. Altogether, Kenegie must have been i lively place of nights, with the old housekeeper reacting scenes f her former rule within, and " Wild Harris's " nocturnal carouse a the " look-out." Few servants, however, lived there long ; they idn't relish such ghostly merriment, in which they had no other hare than to be kept awake and terrified all night. 24 THE GHOSTS OF KENEGIE. No satisfactory account is handed down" as to why these trouble- some spirits could riot or would not rest; there are, however, fragments of misty traditions which throw a little light on the subject. Of the old improving gentleman, who delighted in building, no more seems to be known than what has been stated. The other unresting Harris is said to have been an eager sporl^sman, with much wild-oats in his composition, who cared for little else but his hunter and hounds, except a young lady, a poor relation, dependent on his family, with whom she lived much like a fish ont of water, being regarded as too low for the parlour on grand occasions ; and, at all times, as too high for the kitchen, where she was treated as an intruder by the housekeeper and her creatures. This unfortunate damsel passed much of her time in the pleasant upper room of the summer-house with old maiden ladies of the family, who here wrought everlasting tapestry, fine lace, or embroidery, varying their labours by spinning, to stretch their legs, and by doing much other useful and ornamental work, — then regarded as necessary accomplishments. Here, too, the ancient dames sipped choice cordials of their own distilling or compounding ; perhaps, in latter days, enjoyed their tea and gossip ; and, from the balcony-like outer stair-landing, have watched the gentlemen's healthy exercise and sports on the bowling-green. This, choice retreat was finished with decorative wood and plaster-work ; over the fireplace may yet be seen the family coat-of-arms ; a broad window, opposite the entrance, commanded a delightful view over miles of rich pasture, orchards, and gardens; the western hills, with several parish churches ; St. Buryan tower, standifig boldly out, like a lofty landmark, against the sky. In the ground apartment, which also contains a fireplace, gentlemen, after their exercise on the bowling-green, rested and partook of refreshments with more enjoyment than — • " A party in a parlour, Cram'd as they on earth are cram'd." When the poor gentlewoman was in her bloom, "Wild Harris's " father was a widower, in his dotage, and too much influenced by his housekeeper, who had been, during his wife's lifetime, and was still, a special favourite with him. The old faggot, may she never cease carding, and her wool never becbme white ! She ever disliked her young master, arid detested the poor orphan lady, of whom she was jealous, fearing lest she might supplant her one day in governing the household. The dame was a malicious spy on the lovers, who frequently met in the summer-house and retired walks down the vale. Their interviews were all the sweeter for being stolen ; yet soon, alas, they resulted in sorrow to the young lady. A POOK COUSIN. 25 The old gentleman was much prejudiced against his poor cousin by being persuaded that, only for this unfortunate attachment, his son would have wedded a, rich heiress, whose lands lay near the Harrises' " up-country " property. He declared that the day his son married his cousin, he would wed his housekeeper, so that she should stUl rule the roost. In spite of all opposition, however, the young man would have made an " honest woman " of his betrothed, but was hindered by the malice of the old dame and his father until too late ; for the poor damsel, distracted with grief, wandered away one night, she knew not whither, and next morning was found, by her lover, drowned ia a mill-pond. Shortly after this tragic event the old Squire died, and " Wild Harris " found himself master of Kenegie, but disenherited of much other propepty, bequeathed to his brothers in the army or navy. He had some satisfaction, however, in turning to doors the old mischief -making minion, but not much ; she soon fretted herself to death, and was hardly laid in her grave ere she was back again, making such a dia, out of mere spite, as hindered the inmates from getting a wink of sleep during the dead hours of night. The master of Kenegie became more reckless than ever ; his days were spent in hunting, or holding games on the bowling- green ; and his nights were passed in revelry. He kept open house, for rich or poor, who chose to partake of his hospitality. One and all were cordially welcomed. With all his faults, he had an open heart and hand ; but, in a few years, he came to an untimely end, whilst still in his prime, by a fall from his horse when hunting on the Castle Downs. It is said that his horse was startled by a white hare that often followed him, and was believed to be the unfortunate lady's spirit. He was borne to Gulval Ohurch and laid in the vault at night, as was the fashion then with some of our old families. His burial was attended by many friends; and when some of them — who remained late at the funeral supper — came down the avenue to return home, they beheld him, as natural, seemingly, as life, standing by the summer-house steps, arrayed in his hunting-dress, and, by his side, a favourite old dog that had died when his master breathed his last. LAYING WILD HARRIS'S GHOST. jpHE following account of this ghost-laying is given as "*■- related by the old tinner,* except where his dialect might be uniatelligible to general readers. It is curious that he made the spirit-queller address the ghost by the uncouth word "Nomme domme," which he 'thought a proper name. One cannot doubt that the expression used by the original story-teller was [In) nomine Domini, which became corrupted, as above, by the usage of more ignorant droll-tellers of recent times. On asking my venerable gossip what the term signified, he replied to the effect that it would take a conjurer to tell. He had heard it was a magical word, very likely the spirit's name among spirits, for old folks held that they acquire new ones quite different from what they bore when in mortal bodies ; that persons, knowing and using these secret names, obtained power ovei; spirits, whether black or white ; by this means conjurers controlled them, and witches summoned fiends to wor'k their wicked will for a time. According to old belief, the infernal gentry were fond of wandering mcog'., just like mortals of high rank, that they might not have too many witches to work for. That strange word was the only one remembered of the parson's conjuring formulary ; " the others," said he, " were as long as to-day and to-morrow, not like ours, for none but a parson, or some such learned body, could utter them." When speaking of evil spirits, he called them "Bukkaboos," which is a recent corruption of " Bukka-dhu" (black spirit,) as old folks, who knew anything of Cornish, pronounced it. Within the writer's remembrance, " Bukka-g^idden " (white spirit) was also in frequent use, though there was great latitude allowed to its signification. All good spirits, including, " small people" (fairies) were thus termed, except Piskey ; he was regarded as " something between both," like St. Just Bukka said he was, on seating himself between a mine-captaia and a " venturer," who asked him if he were a fool or a rogue ■? If Piskey threshed poor old people's corn and did other odd jobs for them by night, he was just as ready to lead them astray and into bogs, for mere fun ; to ride the life out of colts ; dirt on blackberries ; and do other mischievious pranks. A precocious child, one " too wise to live long," who bothered old folks by asking awkward questions, was called a " Bukka-gwidden," as well as a poor simple, innoeent, harmlessly insane person, or near to it. * See the Tinner, page 21. PARSON POLKINGHORNE. 2% My old "west-country schoolmaster, of a little more than fifty years ago, often applied this name to his scholars. Persons who have been acquainted with our old droll-tellers know that they gave free rein to fancy, provided they had an audience to their mind ; being well aware that, for the most part, "A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it. " It is often remarked by strangers that the Cornish don't under- stand a joke ; but, if one may judge by the grotesque scenes and adventures of our old stories, that was not the case in past times, when there was less affectation and Puritanism than at present. Some of the incidents related seem absurd enough, yet, as they - may dimly shadow forth some old belief, it was thought best to give them, for better' for worse, as consistency is not expected in very old stories, such as follow : — The housekeeper was confined to her task, as already stated, long before the family succeeded in getting " Wild Harris "laid. Many ineffectual attempts were made, which only resulted in harm, by raising tempests which destroyed crops on land and life at sea ; besides, after these vain trials of parson's power, the ghost became more troublesome, for awhile, than he was before their interference with his walks. Fortunately, however, the Rev. Mr. Polkinghorne, of St. Ives, acquired the virtue whereby he became the most powerful exorcist and " spirit-queller" west of Hayle. From the little that is known of this gentleman, one may infer that he wasn't, by any means, such as would now be styled a " pious character." He is said to have been the boldest fox-hunter of these parts, but he would never chase a hare ; any attempt to kill one would make him swear like a trooper. He kept many of these innocent animals— the hares — running about his house like cats ; foolish people said they were the parson's familiar spirits or witches he found wandering in that shape. He was a capital hurler, and encouraged all kiads of manly games, as he said they produced a cordial "one and all" sort of feeling between high and low. The parson was mostly accompanied by his horse and dog, which both followed him. When he stopped to chat, Hector, his horse, came up and rested his head on his master's shoulder, as if desirous of hearing the news too. If he called at a house, both his attendants waited at the door, his horse never requiring to be held. He made long journeys with Ms steed walking alongside or behind him, the bridle-rein passed round its neck and the stiiTups thrown across the saddle. Wonderful stpries are also told about the high hedges and rocky ground that the parson's horse would take him safely over, when after the hounds; and how the birds, which 28 LAYING WILD HARRIS S GHOST. nestled undisturbed in Ms garden, and other dumb creatures seemed to regard him as one of themselves. On being requested to do his utmost in order that " Wild Harris's " ghost might rest in peace, or be kept away from Kenegie, the reverend gentleman replied that he hoped to succeed if it were in the power of man to effect it. Other clergymen, hearing of what was about to be attempted, expressed a wish to be present at the proceedings. Mr. Polkinghome replied that he nfiither required their assistance nor desired their presence, yet,-any of his reverend brethren might please themselves for what he cared. Moreover, he charged them that, if they came to Kenegie on the appoLated night, not to intermeddle in any way, whatever might happen. A night in the latter end of harvest was appointed for this arduous undertaking. Several clergymen being anxious to see how the renowned spirit-queller would act with a ghost that had baffled so many of them, about an hour before midnight four from the westward of Penzance, a young curate of St. Hellar (St. Hilary), and another from some parish over that way, arrived at Kenegie, and waited a long whUe near the gate, expecting Mr. Polkinghome. At the turn of night, a terrific storm came on, and the six parsons, drenched to their skins, took refuge in the summer-house. Candles had been lit in the upper room of this building, as it was under- stood that the spirit-quelling operations would be performed there. They waited long, but neither Polkinghome nor Harris's ghost appearing, the curate of St. Hellar — impatient of inaction — took from his breast a book, and read therefrom some conjuring formulas, by way of practice, or for mere pastime. As he read, a crashing thunder-clap burst over the building, shook it to its foundations, and broke open the window. The parsons fell on the floor, as if stunned, and on opening their eyes, after being almost blinded by lightning, they beheld near the open door a crowd of " Bukka dhu " grinning at them, and then partially disappear in a misty vapour, to be succeeded by others, who all made ugly faces and contemptuous or threatening gestures. " It was enough to make the parsons swear," if they hadn't been so frightened, to see how these jeering " Bukkas " mocked them. The reverend gentlemen crawled to the window and looked out, to avoid the sight of such ugly spectres, and to get fresh air, — ^that in the room smelt worse than the fumes of brimstone. Presently, an icy shiver ran through them, and they felt as if something awful had entered the room. On glancing round, they beheld the apparition of a man standing with his back to the fireplace, and looking intently towards the opposite wall. His eyes never winked nor turned away, but seemed to gaze on something beyond the blank wall. He wore a long black gown or loose coat which AN ABLE SPIRIT-QUELLER. 29 reached the flgor ; his face appeared sad and wan, under a sable cap, garnished with a plume and lace. He seemed unconscious of either the black spirits' or parsons' presence. Over a while, he turned slowly round, advanced towards the window, with a frowning countenance, which showed the parsons that he regarded them as intruders ; and they, poor men, trembling in every limb, with hair on end, pressed each other into the open window, intending to drop themselves to the ground, and risk broken bones and an ugly "qualk" (concussion), for they were most of them fat and heavy. Meanwhile, scores of " Bukkas" continued to hover behind the ghost, grimmacing as if they enjoyed the parsons' distress. Every minute seemed an hour to the terrified gentlemen ; but, as some of them got their legs out through the casement, the tread of heavy boots was heard on the stone stairs, and PoLkiaghorne bounced into the room, when the ghost, turning quickly round, exclaimed, " Now Polkinghorne, that thou art come, I must be gone ! " The conjurer quietly holding out his hand towards the ghost, quietly said "In nomine Domini, I bid thee stay ;" then he turned to the black spirits, made a crack with his hunting-whip, said, "Avaunt, ye Bukkadhu," and off they went, at his word, howling and shrieking louder than the tempest. The ghost stood still ; Polkinghorne uttered long words in an unknown tongue whilst he drew around it, on the sanded floor, with his whip-stick, a circle and magical signs, with a "five-pointed star" (pentagram) " to loci; the circle." He continued speaking a long while without pausing, and his words sounded deep and full, as if, at once, near and afar off, like the " calling of cleaves " and surging of billows on a long stretch of shore, or thunder echoing around the hills. At length the spirit felt the able conjuror's power, crouched down at his feet, holding out his hands, as if praying him to desist. Mr. Polkinghorne, whilst still saying powerful words, unwound, from around his waist, a few yards of new hempen " balsh " (cord), leaving much more of it attached. Having made a loop at the end, he passed it over the ghost's head and under his arms; then, addressing him, said, "In nomine Domini, I bid thee stand up and come with me." On saying this, he lifted from the floor, with his whip-stick, the spirit's skirts, and under them nothing was seen but flaming fire. When Polkinghorne had the spirit standing beside him, with his eyes fixed and limbs motionless, like one spell-bound, he exclaimed, " Thank the Powers, it's all right so far." Casting a glance towards the other parsons, and seeing a book on the floor, he took it up, opened it, and speaking for the first time to his reverend brethren, said, " You, too, may thank your lucky stars that I came in the nick of time to save ye from grievous 30 LAYING WILD HAERIs's GHOST. hai-m." Holding it towards the St. Hellar curate, lie continued, "This belongs to you, my weak brother; strange such a book should be in your possession ! The penmanship is beautiful ; it must have cost a mint of money, yet it is worse than useless, — nay, it's perilous to such as you. By good luck, you read what merely brought hither silly ' Bukkas'j one can't properly call them demons, though no others were known here in old times ; they now mostly keep to old ruiaed castles, ' crellas,' and ' fougoes,' yet they are always abroad in such a night as this. But, if you had chanced to have pronounced a word, that you don't understand, on the next leaf, you would have called hither such malignant fiends, flying in the tempest this awful night, as would have torn ye limb from limb, or have carried ye away bodily. Perhaps, becoming tired, they might have fixed ye on St. Hellar steeple. For my part, I wish you were there, lest a greater evil befall ye this night. "You ought to have known, as any old ' pellarS ' (conjurors) would haVe told ye, if you had deigned to talk with such without preaching to them, that the secret of secrets, the unwritten words which make this book of use, are the names of powerful and benevolent spirits, by whose aid fiends are expelled. These secret names, by which alone they may be invoked, are only taught, by word of mouth, to the few who are initiated, after long probation, mental and bodily, and a more severe examination, by nine sages, than the likes of you would ever pass. Many, to their sorrow, have been presumptuous to make the essay. Sages hold that if these sacred names werie written they would lose their magic power. " The mystic signs, necessary for obtaining mastery over some spirits, are only traced in sand, or other substance from .which they are readily effaced when those deemed worthy have this knowledge ' imparted. Not so very long ago, the learned in occult science met, at stated times, on the lonely downs, and at the same places in which sages were wont to confer in days of yore for the examination of such as sought admission into their fraternity, and for the preservation of their mystic lore. Novices were principally examined as to their proficiency in the science of extension, and in making such reckonings as are required for constructing a planetary scheme at any given time. Not that these sciences had much connection with the more mysterious subjects treated of in this manuscript ; but, it was justly considered that the person having a mind capable of comprehending geometrical problems, and of making abstruse astrological calculations, was worthy to be admitted into the brotherhood of sages, and, in time, to their higher mysteries." After a pause, in looking sadly at the ghost, who seemed 'to listen with attention, he continued, addressing the gentlemen of DEMONS AND WITCHES OF YORE. 31 St. Hellar, " I suppose you have heard the old saying, ' Women and fools can rise devils, but it takes wise men to lay them.' Indeed, tradition says that, in ancient times, fair young witches first obtained this dread knowledge from their demon lovers, to summon them whenever they desired ; old hags soon pried into the secret — as they will into all kinds of deviltry, — and quickly communicated from one to another, until witches became numerous in all Christian lands ; ■thou.sands of them were burnt as a warning, but their burning didn't deter others from the like evil practices. "The demons became disgusted of witches continually crying after them, to wreck their vengeance on innocent man and beast, and did their best to evade them. Much more may be said on the subject, but time presses. I have stiU arduous work to perform, so only another word, my over-curious brother, — burn this book of magic in the first convenient fire." Saying that, he cast down the book ; spoke a few words, which the others didn't understand ; drew his foot over a mystic sign that "looked" the charmed circle; and, turning towards the spirit, said, "In nomine Dmnini, come thou with me," and "Wild Harris's " ghost was led away, quiet as a lamb. Mr. Polkinghorne, having reached the outer gate, took his horse, which he had left there. The poor beast trembled, though this ghost was not the first, by many, that had been near it. Having mounted, he gave the ghost more rope, and bade him keep farther from Hector. A minute afterwards the four west-country parsons, without as much as saying, " I wish'e well, till we meet again," took down hill as fast as their horses could " lay feet to ground;" it was " the devil take the hindmost " with them. In passing up Kenegie lane, the parson's horse was very " fractious ;" it jumped from side to side, tried to leap over hedges, and screeched like a child ; yet it became pretty quiet at last, when the spirit kept off to the end of his tether. Few bleaker places are to be found than the old road to St. Ives, passing over Kenegie downs. When they got there, the wind seemed to beat on them from all points at once ; rain and thunder never ceased ; the Castle-hill seemed all ablaze with lightning ; at times, too, when a more violent blast than usual whirled around them, clouds of fiends hovered over them like foul birds of prey ; the sky was pitch black, and demons were only seen by the forked lightning that burst from their midst. The ghost, as if seeking protection, came nearer the parson ; then hjs horse's terror became painful to witness, until a few magical words and a crack of his whip sent the devils howling away, and the ghost to the end of his rope. At last they came . within a stone's cast of a few dwellings called Castle-gate, and leaving the highway took a path on the left that wound up the hill to Castle-an-dinas. 32 LAYING WILD HARRIS'S GHOST. We leave them for awhile to look after St. Hellar curate and his friend. One might think that the two parsons from eastward would have taken their nearest way home, over Market-jew-green ; but no, St. Hellar curate thought he would rather go many miles out of his way than miss this opportunity of seeing a spirit put to rest, and his friend was afraid to go home alone ; so they both started after the ghost-layer, keeping sufficiently near to see him on horse-back, leading the spirit, as they ascended the hUl. The lightning was almost continuous, otherwise the night was very dark. On reaching the open downs, however, they found it impossible to keep their saddles, even by holding on with both hands to their horses' manes. Their hats were blown away, and their cloaks flying from their necks like sails in a hurricane rent from the yards. They alighted and trudged along, in single file, dragging their unwilling steeds behind them, for the horses wanted to take their accustomed road home, and did'nt like the ghostly company ahead. When Mr. Polkinghorne reached the hamlet, called Castle-gate, and entered a narrow lane leading up to Castle-an-dinas, they were so far behind as not to see his departure from the highroad ; and, on coming near the lonely cottages, decided to stay there, if they could find shelter ; but, on a closer view, the dwellings appeared to be deserted ; the thatch was stripped from their roofs, leaving bare rafters on all but one of them. On approaching that dweUing,-they heard Mr. Polkinghorne's Hector neigh from the downs ; their horses replied, and there was more whlnnjdng from Hector, which showed the direction taken, and set St. Hellar parson all agog, to follow the ghost-layer. As they crossed the road and paused a moment, a whirlwind passed over the house, where they thought of seeking shelter, and took up a bundle of spars (small rods, pointed at both ends, and used for securing the thatch) which a thatcher, who had been repairing the roof, had left there, pianed to the work with a broach, that he might find them to hand when he continued his thatching. The bundle being taken high up and whirled about, its bind broke, and one of the devil-directed spars pierced St. Hellar curate's side, just above his pin-bone, (hip-joint) like an arrow shot from a bow. He fell on the ground like as if killed, and his companion, in drawing the spar out of his friend's side, had his hand burnt, just as if he had grasped red-hot iron. Presently, the black clouds rolled away westward, and the wind lulled. Then the spar-wounded man was raised by his companion ; lifted on to his horse ; and laid across the saddle, like a sack of com. They went slowly on and reached Nancledery about day- break. Having rested a few hours at the Mill, it was found that ON CASTLE-AN-DINAS. 33 the St. Hellar curate was still unable to sit on horseback, and he was taken home in a cart. The reverend gentleman was, ever after, lame ; and bore to his grave marks of his spar-shot wound ; that's the last we heard of him. We now return to Mr. Polkinghorne. At the time of this ghost-laying there were, around the Castle hill, extensive tracts of open heath, which are now enclosed ; and the highway is skirted by hedges, where it was then open downs, there being several more small dwellings built at Castle-gate. The parson's Hector was well acquainted with the lay of the country all around, as he had often crossed it following the hounds ; and, after scrambling through the narrow lane, tried his utmost to take away down over the moorland to a smith's shop in Halangove, where he had often been shod. By a firm hand on the bridle-rein his master kept him up-Mll for a furlong or so, when they came to an old gurgie (ruined hedge) that once enclosed a fold. On one side there was a bowjey (cattle or sheep-house). A. dwelling and outhouses have since" been built, and a few quillets (small fields) enclosed near this spot. Mr. Polkinghorne alighted, turned his horse into the old " shelter," and bade the ghost approach. They walked on in silence until they came to the Castle's outer enclosure, whicli screened them from the blast. Then the reverend gentleman said, " Now that we are alone, and not likely to suffer any more intrusion, tell me, my unhappy brother, what it is that disturbs thy rest 1 Be assured, my desire is to procure thee peace." The spirit replied to the effect that, at the time of his decease, he was much troubled, because he owed several sums to work- people and others, fearing they would'nt be paid by his successor. Moreover, he related how he had walked about for years, hoping some honest body would speak to him ; how the longer he was left unspoken to the more uneasy and troublesome he became ; and when his relations brought the parsons to lay him, who were unqualified for that office, he was much exasperated, and he determined never to leave Kenegie. " Yet, it gave me some pleasure," said the ghost, "to make those who came and read long curses, as if exorcising an evil spirit to "cut and run" and nevermore return, by only advancing a step towards them. Though spirits seldom speak until first addressed, I couldn't help exclaiming, as I did, and wished to escape when you surprised me by entering the summer-house ; but I am now satisfied to be in your power, trusting you will procure me rest." " Be assured, my son," replied the parson, " that I will see all thy debts paid." " That will relieve me of much," said the spirit, "yet there are other subjects that trouble me ; but you must promise me never to divulge them, ere I make a clean breast of them," C 34 LAYING WILD HARRIS'S GHOST. " My profession obliges secrecy in such cases," replied his adviser, " therefore speak on without reserve." The poor ghost having unburthened hitoself, Mr. Polkinghorne gave him words of comfort, and concluded by saying, " think no more about your little faults and failings, for if, when in mortal life, you had more of what we call the devil in ye, you would have overcome your opponents, and much grief would have been spared to yourself and others. " Besides, my son," continued he, " from your simple, honest, and confiding disposition, you were unable to cope with sly, mercenary hirelings." Then the parson took the cord ofi, saying, " This is no longer required to protect ye from evil spirits, for they have all departed with the tempest they raised, and the sky is now serene." As they ascended the hill the moon shone bright on the old fort's inner enclosing wall, which was then almost intact. The upper enclosure is nearly oval in outline, and they entered it at its south- eastern end. Stopping a minute on the hill-top, Mr. Polkinghorne said to the ghost, " There is no cure for a troubled spirit equal to constant employment, and I shall allot you an easy task, which, with time and patience, will procure ye repose ; but I must first make the whole of this enclosure secure against infernal spirits." Mr. Polkinghorne then used a form of exorcism, which, as far as it could be understood by the old story-teller's account, was something like the following : Having placed the ghost on his right hand side, he passed with him three times around the enclosed hUl-top, going from east to west, or with the sun, and keeping close to the wall. At the first round, he merely counted the number of paces ; at the next, he uttered, in some ancient eastern tongue, such exorcisms and adjurations as serve to expel infernal spirits ; at the last circuit, he made, near the bounding wall, twelve mystic signs, at equal distances. He then passed through the middle of the ground to its noi-th-westem end, " cutting the air " with his whip, and tracing on the earth more magical figures. Being arrived at the end opposite the entrance, hfe drew a line with his whip stick, from a large stone in the wall, on one side, to another opposite, and told the spirit to remember them as bound-stones. The space thus marked off might be three or four " laces " of pretty even grass-covered ground, with a few furze bushes and large stones scattered over it. The reverend gentleman rested a while on the ruined wall, which rose some ten feet above a sui-rounding foss, and three or four from the inner ground. " Now, my son," said he, turning towards the ghost, who stood near, " all within the Castle's upper walls is as safe for ye as consecrated ground; and here is your task, which is merely to count THE PABSON's soothing COtTNSBL. 36 the blades of grass on this small space, bounded by the wall and a straight line from stone to stone, that you can always renew or find. " You must reckon them nine times, to be sure that you have counted right ; you needn't set about it till I leave, there's plenty of time before ye. " Whilst at your work, banish from your thoughts all remem- brance of past griefs, as far as possible, by thinking of pleasant subjects. There is nothing better for this purpose than the recollection of such old world stories as delighted our innocent childhood, and please us in mature age." The spirit looked disconcerted and said something — the old tinner didn't know his words exactly, — to intimate that he thought the assigned task a vain one, as it produced nothing of lasting use. He would rather be employed in repairing the Castle walls, or some such job, " No, my dear son," replied the parson, " it would never do for ye to be employed on anything that would be visible to human eyes ; the unusual occurrence would draw hither such crowds of gazers as would greatly incommode ye. ' No more need ye trouble yourself on the score of its mere use, in your sense ; for if restless mortals employed themselves solely in such works of utility as you mean, the greater part of them would find nothing to do, and be more miserable than ghosts unlaid." The pooE ghost assented to the greater part of what the parson said, and the reverend gentleman resumed his discourse, which was enough of itself to " put spirits to rest " one might think. " Believe me, gentle spirit," said he, " the world is just as much a show as our old Christmas ' guise-dance ' of St. George ; for a great number pass their lives in doing battle with imaginary dragons ; others in racing about on their hobby-horses, to the great annoyance of quiet folks. There are numerous doctors, too, both spiritual and physical, for ever vaunting of their " little bottles of elecampane, as sovereign cures for all ills but their own ; whilst the motley crowd is bedizened in fantastic rags and tinsel, just like 'guiseards.' Indeed, except honest husbandmen, simple artisans, and a few others, the rest might just as well pass their time in spinning ropes of sand, counting blades of grass, or in any other ghostly employment, for all the good they do, unless it be to tranquilize their restless minds." The ghost made no reply, but seemed " all down in the mouth," w^hich expression of sadness the parson remarked, and said, "Don't ye be out of heart, brother, but have patience, and you will find that, with constant work, years will pass away like a summer's day. Then you will wonder how your mortal crosses ever had the power to trouble ye. All remembrance of them will fade like a dream, and you will rest in-peace. 36 LAYING witD Harris's ghost. " When you have a mind to pause awhile — say aft^r each time of counting, — ^you can go around the hill-top and enjoy the extensive prospect, as all within this higher rampart is a charmed circle for ye, where fiends dare not enter. There are other pleasant sights which you will often behold ; for the small-people' (fairies) still keep to the Ca^stle-hill and hold their dances and fairs, of summer nights, within these ramparts. On May-day, in the morning, they are frequently seen around the spring, just below, or going up and down the steps which lead to it, by young men and maidens who come at early dawn to clean out the Castle- well, and to deck it with green boughs and blossoming May, as is their wont. These gay beings are the spirits of old inhabitants who d-^elt — ^it may be thousands of years ago — in the ' Crellas,' at Chysauster. " There is something more which will serve to divert ye; people from far and near often come here to enjoy, the charming prospect ; you may learn by their talk what is going on in the country round, if you care to hear anything about it. Perhaps some of the neighbours may speak of you and your family, and say things neither pleasant nor true ; but let me beg of ye, however much you may be vexed to hear their slander, for goodness sake, don't ye contradict them, nor show yourself ; for your apparition, in its rich but antiquated garb, would frighten poor weak-minded mortals into fits." The poor ghost seemed " dumbfoundered," and said not a word : so the parson went on as if in his pulpit. At length he stood up and said, hastily, " One might mention more of what will make your abode pleasant, but it's high time for you to become invisible and for me to leave ye. The cocks will soon be crowing ; see how fast the light increases on Cam Marth, Cam Brea, and other noble hills that were giants' dwelling places in days of yore, and stand out against the grey sky like sentinels over this favoured Western Land." The parson, pointing to the eastern sky, told the spirit to put off his form. In a minute or so the apparition became indistinct, and faded gradually away, like a thin wreath of smoke dissolving in air. Mr. Polkinghome said farewell, and, as he turned to leave the spirit to his task, he heard a hollow Voice say, " Good friend, do thou remember me, and visit me again." When the reverend gentleman entered the old " bowjey," the joy that his horse showed at his approach was like recalling him from death to life. As Mr. Polkinghorne slowly wended his way homeward, he was grieved to see the wreck made by the preceding night's tempest. In Nancledry, low-lying as it is, dwellings were unroofed, and trees, which had withstood the storms of centuries were all CORNISH CASTLES. 37 uprooted. On higher ground " stones were blown out of hedges," arish mows laid low, and the corn whirled around fields. About sunrise, St. Ives folks, standing at their doors, were surprised to see their beloved parson, coming down the Stenaok, looking so sad and weary, and that he didn't give them " the time of day " (a greeting suitable to the time, as good morning, &c.,) with his accustomed cheerful tone and pleasant smile. Neither Mr. Polkinghorne nor his steed were again seen in the street for several days after their ghostly night's work. CORNISH CASTLES. It is not generally known to strangers that what are called Castles in Cornwall are little more than simple entrenchments, consisting of lai'ge and small stones built up about ten or twelve feet high and held together by their own weight, without any cement. These embankments are surrounded by a ditch, formed by excavating the soil which fills the ramparts. A well is always found within the Castle's enclosure. Traditions, which have been handed down by old stationary folks, such as freeholding farmers — whose families have long dwelt near these primitive strongholds — say that they were constructed by the ancient inhabitants, as places of refuge where their cattle and other property might be protected from the " red-haired Danes," who frequently marauded the country in days of yore. Near the outer entrenchment of Treen Dinas stood a bam, where there is now a dwelling called Caer Keis. This bam was inconveniently situated for farming purposes, and old proprietors of Treen held that it was used in old times for storing hay and com, which might be wanted for cattle when they were placed in the Castle to be safe from northern pirates who were accustomed to land at Parcurno, — then free from sand. It is a matter of regret that such interesting examples of primitive fortifications, as Castle-an-Dinas and others, should have been almost destroyed of late years, when they have been resorted to as to quarries, and the stones removed for building huts and hedges. Some years ago, a bad example was shown by the proprietor of Trazza, who was lord of the land on which Castle-an-Diuas stands, by his having a good portion of the inner entrenchment demoKshed at its south-eastern end, and the stones taken to construct, on the brow of the hill, a nondescript object, which looks best at a distance. In looking at the few fragments of " dry walling " that remain, 38 CORNISH CASTLES. one can but admire the thoughtful way in which the stones were laid — perljaps thousands of years ago— so as to " break the joints" and bind each other. The Castle Well, near the summit of the hill, used to be regarded as one of the curiosities of this old fort. The water was reached by descending ten or a dozen steps when the spring was low. From the upper entrenchment may be surveyed One of the most extensive and varied prospects west of Cam Brea. The rugged brown hills on the northern side offer a striking contrast to the beautiful bay and rich land, cultivated almost to the water's edge, on the other side. Eastward, the view is only bounded by hills which rise beyond St. Austel-l and stretch northward, Eoughtor and Brownwhilly being in this range. Looking westward the hills of Sancreed and St. Just, hide the Land's End ; yet, with a clear atmosphere, Scilly Isles may be descryed, on the horizon's verge, like clouds resting on the ocean. The fine tower of Buryan Church is a very conspicuous object, and it reminds one that near it, in Buryan parish, are the ancestral, but forsaken, homes of some who have made their mark in England's history ; and of others whose names live in romance and hearthside story, as Boscawen, Noy, Tresillian, Vivian, Le Velis, &c. The more immediate objects in the landscape are familiar to us all, yet the kind of bird's-eye view obtained from this elevated site gives a novel appearance to the scene scarcely to be 'fexpected. One may find a pleasant walk from Penzance to Castle-an-Dinas, nearly all the way through fields, by taking the Churchway path from Gulval to Angarrack ; thence across two or three small fields the heath-covered hill is reached, and one is soon on its summit. THE HAUNTED LAWYER. |«K| LITTLE while ago an aged native of Gulval spoke of another ghost that haunted Kenegie, biit only for a^ short time. Whether it was the "spirit" of aHarris or an Arundel he couldn't say, because it was so long past, but it was all in the same family ; for a Harris, he believed, changed his name for that of Arundel; i then, over a generation or two, the family resumed 1 their former name. People round about always called them Harrises, and this one was spoken of as the proud squire of Kenegie. He always rode a high horse. If he met people in the narrow lanes (and there were but few bi-oad ones in his time) they had to get out of his way, by leaping hedges sometimes, else he'd ride over them. They say that the only person who wouldn't make way for him was an old Rogers of Treassowe. On Castle Downs there was a wide piece of ground left for horse-tracks where the road to St. Ives passed, so that when one path was too much worn another might be taken, on th? turf In soine places the principal paths were divided by rocks or brakes of furze ; and in a little way the branches united again, or crossed others, in a bewildering maze. 'Tis said that if Rogers, when on a heavy horse, could make out at a little distance, the track which would lead to that on which Harris rode, he would be sure to take it ; if a deep one all the better ; and so they would both ride up, " full butt," against each other, like ^sop's two goats crossing the brook on a plank, and either have a " scruff" or a slashing fight with their whips. Yet they were good friends, at times ; hunted together over each other's lands ; and visited one another on ceremonial occasions. This burly gentleman-farmer of Treassowe, however, has nothing to do with the story about to be told ; yet thoughts of him occur in connection with the proud Harris from his being so often spoken of as his opponent. He was, also, a fair sample of "Ludgvan Hurlers " of old, who were noted as sturdy "sticklers" for their rights, with a trifle more from those inclined to domineer, as well as for their devotion to the manly game which procured them their honourable nickname — still retained, though for many years past they had never strengthened their muscles and minds as they were wont to do in days of yore, by hurling their silver ball, for miles, 40 THE HAUNTED LAWYER. forward and backward along Market Jew Green, then a common of great extent, or away inland "to the country." The game on the Green was called Hurling to the Goal. Now, when Harris the proud was on his deathbed he sent a man to Penzance for a lawyer, because he wanted to make an addition to his will. " Take the fleetest horse in my stable," said he to his servant, " ride for thy life, — for thy life ; stop not for anything in thy road ; tell him to take thy horse and hasten away if his own be unsaddled." On a chest, near the squire's bed, sat his son John, rocking himself to and fro, and crpng bitterly. "What art thou crying for, my son?" asked his father. "Because you are going to die, father," replied the boy. " Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?" And he went on crying more and more. "Stop crying, my son," said his father, " thou wilt do very well, for I am going to give thee Trengwainton ; and Castle Homeck, to look at ; don't cry any more, my son, for I'm very weak and want to sleep, my son." The lawyer having arrived at the squire's bedside, and writing materials being ready, asked what must be added to the will 1 The squire, when propped up with pillows, gasped out, " I wish, I wish," several times, untU he became exhausted, and fell back in bed. After resting awhile he made signs to be raised again, and then only repeated the same words, " I wish, I wish," untU the lawyer told him to stop a nioment and then say what it was that he wanted to- have written. " That my son John shall have Trengwainton," gasped the dying man. The lawyer, who had also been the squire's steward for a long time, was quite confounded. In a minute or two he said, "I don't know what you mean ; how can your son have Trengwainton 1 The place doesn't belong to you, I can't understand 'e at aU. The little blood in Harris's body seemed to rush into his face and turn blue; then he became pale, and cried, as hard as he was able, " Thou fool of a lawyer not to know how, when " unable to say any more he fell back in bed, more exhausted than before. Then he began twitching at the bedclothes, and kept on murmuring " I wish, I wish," lower and lower, and slower and slower, until he breathed his last, with the words on his lips. [The lawyer returned homeward, feeling very sad and much perplexed. He and the deceased had been constant friends from their boyhood. Of late years his connection with Harris was mainly as steward of his estate, and in that character we have to speak of him. The late squire had undertaken many improvements of his farm, then in progress, as well as alterations in his premises by his advice ; and the steward took just as much interest in his friend's family and estate as if they had been his own. He was, also, the only solicitor of note then in Penzance. People of that HARRIS APPEARS TO THE LAWYER. 41 time did not run for legal advice to settle trifling matters in dispute ; they were often a law unto themselves, rough and ready, as well as warm-hearted ; though far less hypocritical then than now. The unsatisfied dead man was laid in the family vault, when the customary time for keeping people of his quality above ground had expired. On the night of his funeral, towards the morning, doleful sounds were heard proceeding from the late squire's bedroom, with plaintive cries of " I wish, I wish,'' followed by agonising moans and groans. Next day the steward came over to arrange some business that required his presence on the place ; old greyheaded servants of the family soon told him of the ghostly sounds heard in the ancient mansion, only a few hours past. The strong-minded man of law ridiculed them, and said it was only their fearful fancies, followed by disturbing dreams, which had caused all their dread of their old master's return. The old servants followed the lawyer to the outer gate, begging him to stay at the house over night. "No, no, I've other fish to fry," replied he, " go'e to rest before you're ■ all tipsy, and let the squire come if he will or can." The steward proceeded slowly down the hill, thinking of his deceased friend. As he passed a churchway stile, a little below the principal entrance gate, a gentleman came over and walked close beside him, keeping pace with his horse. Neither spoke. The steward didn't even give the customary greeting of " Good night," so usual here when people meet in country lanes. The strange gentleman's broad brimmed hat and drooping plume so shaded his face that his features could not be distinctly seen; but his tall figure was attired in a dress precisely like that which had been usually worn by Harris, and which was of too grand a mode for anybody else in the immediate neighbourhood. The horse showed signs of great terror by rubbing his rider against the hedge, and by trying to I'un ofi at a gallop ; yet, however the steed altered his paces, the stranger kept alongside, with such an easy motion as if he floated in air, until, passiug the stream which flows to Ponsandane, when this strange companion disappeared, — there was no knowing whither. Having crossed the water, and the road ascending for a little way, the rider let his steed take its course ; then it went off at a furious rate, and only ceased its race when near the watering- trough at the top of Market-jew Street, opposite the " Star " Inn. After slaking its thirst, it went down a lane, now built on, and 'called New Street, which led to a yard, stable, and garden, at the back of the lawyer's house, on the eastern side of Chapel Street (formerly called Our Lady Street) and a little above the end of Vounder Yev. ' It is not known whether the lawyer surmised or not that the 42 THE HAUNTED LAWYEE. companion of his ride down Kenegie Hill was his late friend' s ghost, which it was : for he, like most of his profession, could keep his own counsel, especially in doubtful cases. Next day, however, when he was expected by the family at Kenegie to settle such business as could only be arranged with his help, he begged for delay, on the plea of illness, and took to his bed, which he did not quit for some days. Night was dreaded ia the old mansion at Kenegie. Even the decline of day made its inmates shudder with apprehensive terror. The slamming of doors, rattling of furniture, and other disturbances commenced earlier and continued later into the morning than they did at first ; and the spirit's cries of " I wish, I wish," seemed to be uttered in anger rather than in grief. During all the family's trouble the steward was unable, or unwilling, to come near them. Yet, almost daily, one or other of Harris's old servants came in to enquire after the lawyer's health, and told his family how their late master's ghost had been seen and heard before candle-lighting time in a court behiad the house ; and that it was intended, over a few nights, to try what " spirit-quellers," as ghost-layers were called, could do in order to give the troubled spirit rest. The steward was stni far from well, when one night, about a week after his last visit to Kenegie, and just after he heard an eight-day clock on his stair-landing strike two, whilst he was listening for the town-clock, five minutes slower than his own, he heard a loud knocking at his front door. Shortly afterwards his housekeeper came to his bedroom door, and asked, "Are e waking, , master 1 " Having spoken to her, she said, " There's an old clergyman, from over Hayle way, below ; I've seen him here before; he must speak with you, he says : he has a message of the utmost importance to you." The steward told her to strike a light and show the parson up at once, as he was an old acquaintance who didn't stand on ceremony vith him. The old dame sat on her three-legged stool, hammering away with flint and steel, in making vain endeavours to kindle the tinder, which wasn't touched by a spark, for the box had overturned in her lap without her knowing it ; her skirts being huddled on in a hurry she hardly knew where to find her knees to steady the tinder- box between them. There was a glimmer of light coming through the diamond-shaped lead lights from a ghostly-looking bit of a morning moon, when the venerable gentleman told her to take no more trouble ; as he was well acquainted with the house and her master he could find the way to his room without a candle and alone ; his business was too urgent for any farther delay. The reverend gentleman, on entering the lawyer's bedroom, drew back the window curtains, and said, whilst shaking hands, "I hope to be excused for calling at this imseasonable hour on PROUD Harris's ghost. 43 account of the message I bring ; the importance of -whicli, to you, -will be best understood when I tell ye of this night's odcurrences." Now, the lawyer was impatient to learn this urgent business, but it would seem as if the. parson were in no hurry — such good men take things easy. For he went to the window, opened a casement, and looked out, as if to recollect his thoughts. It was too obscure then for him to enjoy the extensive prospect, as seen by day — only bounded by distant eastern hills. Returning to the lawyer's bed- side, the reverend gentleman seated himself and continued thus : — " I calculate, by the stars now rising, as well as by the altitude attained by others, that it is now two hours and forty-five minutes since I, with four other clergymen of our neighbourhood, by a request of the deceased squire's family, assembled on the Bowling Green, at Kenegie, in order to give rest to the' unquiet spirit which quitted Proud Harris's mortal tenement a fortnight since. Having marked on the turf a circle, and placed on its circumference three lighted candles, to mark the points of an equilateral triangle, within which a ghost is as safe as in consecrated ground — the devil and his hounds are always on the watch for vagrant spirits, roaming from churchyards — we formed ourselves in line, facing south and behind the lights, in order of precedence, my station being at the right hand' of all. Then a reverend gentleman, who, like myself, has much knowledge of planetary influence and other occult sciences, as well as great ability in laying obdurate spirits, spoke a form of citation. Not a dozen words of this solemn summons were uttered when Proud Harris's ghost, in winding-sheet and shroud came before us, and, with a frowning countenance and angry gestures, abruptly said, 'Begone about your own business, if you have any, for you have none whatever here ; and learn, vain mortals, tha,t I will not leave this place for anything you can do or . say, until it pleaseth me to do so.' " "Ah, I see," said the steward, " it's the same resolute spirit still that always animated my deceased friend, for he never liked those of your cloth ; in fact he couldn't abide to see men feathered all in black and white ; he used to say, 'They are like Market-jew crows.'" "Well, well, let that pass," replied the reverend gentleman, "You have not yet heard the matter of importance to you. On my commencing a powerful form of conjuration the spirit approached me and said, ' Dear old friend of my youth, for the sake of those many happy days that we have passed together in the hunting-field, do thou go from me, and at once, to that accursed lawyer and steward of mine ; tell him that unless he comes here, and that shortly, to mind his business, I will go to him. Aye, you see that thin rim of the waning moon ; if he be not here, attending to his duty to me and mine, ere that moon be renewed, I will appear before him when least expected, whether he be in his office, his bed-chamber, or elsewhere, alone.' On my 44 THE HAUNTED LAWYER. assenting to convey his message the ghost vanished, and I at once came hither with such speed as my three-score and six years permit." . ' The parson paused a moment, but, the lawyer remaining silent, he continued : " I advise you as a friend, go, as desired, before you are three days older, for by that time this moon's diminished horns will have recommenced their growth. As I have now faithfully delivered the spirit's message, I bid you adieu, hoping you will have grace to follow my advice." "I intend going to Kene^e," replied the lawyer, "before another night comes round. Stay and take breakfast ; you must need rest after such trying work." "No, I must be gone,'' said the parson, "though I have neither eaten nor slept since my leaving Ruan yesterday morn." "Then if you won't stop, I wish e well," said the steward, " hoping never more to see ye here with a message from the dead. Fa,rewell." After this unpleasant interruption to his night's rest,, the steward lay awake and turned out of bed before his accustomed time of rising, with the intention of going to Kenegie without delay. Yet, from feeling very much out of order, when partly dressed, he returned to bed and sent for a medical man. ' The doctor felt the lawyer's hot forehead and rapidly-throbbing pulse, whilst the sick man told him that he could neither get tranquil sleep nor take his food with any appetite. "My good friend," replied the doctor, "you are working yourself to death, in trying to grapple with your extensive practice. Now, you must not think of entering your office for a month at least. Go away to the country,- when you are able, for the sake of getting rid of business cares ; your clients must have patience until you get well. If they won't, let them go to Old Nick for advice. His counsel will jilease the greater part of them much better than, the advice of an honest attorney." The patient then said, " I am most anxious first to go over and arrange some business in Kenegie which requires my presence there." " All right," replied the doctor, " you can do nothing better, when well enough, mind yovi, than ride over there daily; but don't stay long in the house, and say but little about professional matters. After taking some light refreshment, ride away up to Castle-an- Dinas, or, at least, as far as the hamlet called Castle Gate, and ride easily forth and back, over the stretch of level road on that high ground. When there you will breathe the sweet air of the hiUs, minglpd with ocean's breezes, which will do you more good than any amount of drugs. You must, however, take a small dose at once, in order to procure tranquil sleep. Never mind your appetite, doctor's advice. 45 that will return when you are able to take daily rides over the hills, and you will be able to eat like a horse, as the saying is." The doctor having sent for medicine, and seen his patient take the same, went downstairs, charged the household to keep still, and on no account to let their master be disturbed with busraess callers. " If he should sleep for 24 hours, let him," said the doctor, " and I'll call again shortly." The steward said nothing of his having been accompanied by Harris's ghost in his ride down Kenegie Hill, nor of the spirit's message, well knowing that his medical friend had no faith in supernatural appearances ; and the ailing man himself had but slight belief in such matters until the evidence of his own eyes, as well as the reverend gentleman's words, convinced him, in spite of his reason. The "doctor's stuff" had its desired effect. The steward slept soundly through the night, and until nearly noon next morning, when he took breakfast in bed, then more medicine, and slept again. About two o'clock the doctor called and asked the house- keeper how her master was. "I suppose," said she, "that he's going on as well as can be expected, for he slept well last night, ate a good breakfast for a sick man, and is sleeping again. A few minutes since I went into his room, and saw his eyes were shut, and didn't speak to him, as you told me not to, but I talked a little to myself, and he didn't ask me what I was gru.mbling about, as he mostly does if I speak a few words tq myself. " A precious nurse you are," said the doctor, " can't you keep your tongue still when in your master's room ? " The lawyer had the sfime tranquil rest on the following night ; got up at his usual time, and soon after an early dinner, took horse for Kenegie. The steward arrived at the old mansion about three or four o'clock. Having stayed a few hours with the bereaved fanjily, and said all he could to comfort them, he recollected that there were alterations, or repairs, going on down at the mill, which he ought to see. The lengthening shadows warned him that it was time for his departure, that he might see the mill on his way home. Having sent his horse down, by a servant, he took a pathway which made a short cut thither across some fields. This was always a favourite walk with him and the late squire, because it afforded delightful views over land and sea. When on the clear ground, and in sight of Eosemorran, he saw the sunbeams still shining through a few leafless trees on the hill, but the valley was all in shadow. On coming to a high-hedged and narrow lane, near the mill, the gentleman went on slowly, with eyes cast down, musing on times past. Glancing upwards, when his reverie ended, he beheld, at the distance of ten or a dozen paces, the late squire, looking as formerly. 46 THE HAUNTED LAWYER. and slowly approaching him. The steward, though much terrified at first, noticed that the garb taken by the apparition was, from looped-up hat to silver spurs, exactly like that which Harris had usually worn when following his hounds. At a glance the steward saw the same bright and unsullied attire for which the late owner of Kenegie had been distinguished. There were the same untarnished gold-lace and buttons on his bright scarlet coat ; and the boots, with their tops just touching, without hiding, the jewelled knee-buckles of his nether garment. Yet, for all this brightness of dress, the ghostly face, as seen by the terrified man on coming nearer, made his blood run cold. The eyes were like the unclosed eyes of the dead ; and the other features were pale and motionless as those of a marble image lying on a tomb. The lawyer had heard, like everybody else here, that one should never turn back from a ghost, but speak, if only a single word, as a spirit is powerless to impart its wishes till spoken to ; and if long delayed the person is in danger of receiving bodily harm, and will be ' haunted to death if he speak not before. The poor man forced himself, as it were, to advance with his eyes cast down, for he couldn't bear to see the ghastly countenance. When near he could only murmur, " What shall T do for e?" " I am rejoiced that thou hast come to meet me here, and spoken in time, for on the morrow I should have gone to thee. The anger I felt at thy delay hath passed ; why shouldst thou fear me, frail mortal that thou art, when, ere long, thou wilt be as I am, and then seek me with a greater desire to meet me than thou hast now to shun my company '? Besides thou knowest I always liked thee for thy honesty, and thy regard to me and mine, as well as for thy doing justice to thy poorer clients — as far as unjust laws and judges would allow thee. Now, with i-egard to my son John," continued the ghost, looking sorrowfully on his faithful steward, " Death, as thou knoVest, cut short my efibrts to explain how my wishes were to be accomplished touching Trengwainton. Thy eyes are cast on earth ; dost thou attend to what I say 1 " " I do my best to,"- replied the poor steward like one in a waking dream. " Well, as thou knowest, there is much money owing to me on the place ; no interest has ever been paid, and more cash is wanted. Do thou supply more and more until the place be indebted to nearly its value. Our boy John is now about fourteen. Before he will be of age, foreclose the mortgage, as the place by that time will be burthened to nearly its full value. If the eststte be ofiered for sale there will be no purchaser ; everyone hereabouts has enough to do to keep the land he has. All landowners here are much embarrased to hold what they have. Yet if the place be worth anything more than its encumberance, pay over the balance on putting my son in THE GHOST EXPLAINS HIS WILL. 47 -possession. The management of my family's property will be entirely on thy hands for many years, and thou wilt still be my trusty steward. Now understand me, clearly, of a Harris it must never with truth be said that he got his lands unfairly. Mark the little more T have to say, that I may depart for good, and no more have to revisit this miserable world. Look up now, that I may know thou attendest to my words, and learn that unless my wishes be accomplished none of my family, nor of thine, will be known in this part of the country for half the time they have flourished here, nor have an inch of land more than their graves occupy. Behold those aged trees which my forefathers planted. Ere they return to dust our ancient homes will know us no more, if my last wishes be disregarded." Before the lawyer could reply — if he had anything to say — Harris's ghost had vanished. The servant, who awaited the lawyer at the Mill, became uneasy when it was almost night and the gentleman had not arrived ;■ knowing him. to be unwell and that he was a man who would never " say die whilst there was a shot in the locker," as the saying is (everybody liked the steward for his pluck and kindly disposition.) He rode- slowly up the lane by which he expected the steward to arrive, and, at last found him sitting on a bank beside the road, seeming all bewildered and stupid, like a person recovering from a trance or just come out of a fit. The servant roused him up, as he said, but the steward didn't speak, even when he mounted his horse, and rode slowly homeward, with the servant following to his own door, where the doctor was anxiously awaitiog his patient's return. We heard no more of the good lawyer, but hope he rode out no more until perfectly recovered. Harris's ghost, satisfied with having told the, lawyer how its wishes were to be carried out, has never more been seen nor heard in Kenegie, fronl that day to this. HALLANTIDE : OR A ST. JUST FEAST FIFTY YEARS AGO. " The Saiat's Feaat is kept upon tlie Dedication Day, by every householder of the parish, within his own dores, each entertaining such forrayne acquaintance as will not fayle, when their like turne cometh about, to requite them with the like kindness."— Carew's Survey of Cornwall. ffi^M^ANY persons of Penzance and its neiglibourliood, whose ffip^^^ memories take them back fifty years or more, may recollect an aged man, usually called Dick Rastram, who for some weeks before Christmas, and after it, used to be heard calling around the market, — f" Moore's almanacks new, Some lies and some true.'' The almanacks he sold were supplemented with advertisements of patent medicines and other special articles kept by his master. On the whole Dick must have been a good servant, or his master would never have had the patience to bear with his provoking ways for so many years as he did. Dick was very fond of arguing the point as to the best mode of doing any job he was set about, and the time wasted in settling the matter was more than would have sufficed to do the work many times over; but he would exeri himself with double vigour when allowed to have his own way. Sometimes, however, the master becoming tired of his man's pig-headedness, would say "do the work as thou art told to; whether right or wrong no blame will rest on thy shoulders." Then Dick would keep a sharp look-oiit for a mistake, and if his master made any, by a " slip of the tongue," he would be sure to execute it to the very letter. One morning this precious man-servant was sent to the bake- house in Back Lane, for a twopenny, loaf of the proper age for mixing with other ingredients in making pills. In a few minutes he returned, placed the pence on the counter, and said " there's no bread there stale enough ; where must I go next 1" Then he was told some other place, and as often returned without bread, asking each time where he was to go next 1 So he (law died away great THE CHEMISTS MAN. 49 part of the forenoon, when everyone knew that if he had a mind he would find a suitable loaf in some shop best known to himself, in a few minutes. The last time he returned with -the two-pence and asked " Where must I go next?" his master, provoked beyond measure, said go to — , naming a place said to be very hot ; and to soften the angry expression, added the word " stone " in a lower voice ; but the man heard this cooling word, took up the pence, and went out to get the bread, it was supposed from some shop of his own choice. Night came, however, but no Dick ; and the following day passed without his having been seen or heard of in Penzance. A little after the usual closing time Mr. Harvey was in his shop with a few of his neighbours, wondering what had become of his man, and getting rather uneasy at not having had any tidings of him, and was about to have his shop closed, when Dick entered, put a two-penny loaf on the counter, and said. Here's a loaf that'll please 'e I 'spose. I've ben where you told me to go for ut. You will, of course, pay me for what it cost me in lodgings in Helston last night, and for meat and drink on the road. I went as cheap as I cud ; 'tes only two and twenty pence ; seeman to me you have kept the shop open very late, and all the lamps human, when every shop round the market es shut up except the two grocers' that are always the last. Dick then put up the shutters, turned down all the lamps except one near his master's desk, and asked if there was anything more for him to do that night. " If there es'nt, said he, " I'd like to go home and go to bed at once, that I may rise early in the mornan." Dick's master being one who always saw the humourous side of a matter — and who had a keen relish for it, could'nt, for his life, keep a stern look when he replied, " go into the kitchen and get thy supper and don't let me see thee any more to night." Yet, with all the man's deviltry, he was extremely proud of his master's repute as a skilful chemist and a clever man ; as well as of the old-established business, to which he regarded himself as a most important adjunct. The warehouses where Dick reigned supreme, as far as he could, were extensive and somewhat scattered... The shop was a large one for those times, with groceries on one side and drugs on the other. Grocers' kitchens were then the usual places in which their regular country customers left their baskets when their marketing was finished ; and there, too, boiling water was kept that country-folks might make themselves tea, after which the warehouseman helped them take their marketing to the inn-yard, at which their horses were left (market-carts were but few then.) All were anxious to keep in with Dick, to have his assistance, for he was as " ugly" as sin with some who gadded about to new shops, that they might ' pick up things sold cheap as a draw for a short time. D 50 HALLANTIDE. Amongst the old regular customers, to whom Dick paid much attention, was Mary Angwin, or Chygwin, the wife of a well-to-do miner in St. Just Ohurchtown, who also cultivated a few acres of land, in his spare time. A few weeks before Hallantide* Mary invited Dick to come out the Feasten Sunday, and he promised to come. .. On Feasten Eve, Mary and Jackey, her husband, were both in Penzance, to get meat and other things for the feast. They didn't want to kill their pig for winter's store before it was fat, and sell one side of it on the Thursday before the Feast, as many did that they might buy beef and other good things for the 'Tide. " Be sure you come early, in time to go to Church," said Jackey, when his wife had reminded Dick of his promise to come. St. Just folks, and others in Feasten time, were proud to show a goodly number of \'isitors in Church. "And now, Dick,'' said she, when ready to leave the shop, " if you will take one side of the basket, with me, Jackey will shoulder the sack of meat. The basket is heavy with Hallan apples, the largest I could get, and with other things ; the old mare will groan and grunt at some rate, all the way home, as she always do, the creature, when there's a few pounds more than usual on her back." After Mary had jogged away, seated on a bow-pad, with the heavy basket on her knees and the sack across the beast, Jackey stayed awhile waiting for some comrades who were going to tramp it home as well as himself., " You can find our house, mate, without any trouble," said he to his expected feaster, " 'tes nearly the first you will come to on entering Ohurchtown by the Penzance road ; and you will laiow et by the largest turf-rick you'll see close to the end of et, and 'tes sure to be sanded all about, from the door to the tui'f-rick and pigs' crow. I've ben along to Percurnow on purpose for a load ; none else will please Mary, for the Feast, but the sand from that Cove ; and I brought home ' gard,' (decomposed granite) from the Tinpit Hill, in St. Levan, too, that she may scour the life out of tembran things, — the dairy door and all, as well as the benches ; she's a capital wife, she es. Now good night, and be sure to come early." By 10 o'clock Dick arrived, and was treated to a dram, fiyst thing, whilst Mary laid before him a substantial breakfast. The only one there before, except those belonging to the house, was an old maid, a manlua-maker of Kelynack ; she was a staid old dear, yet not out of hopes of getting married. Hearing that Dick Rostram was expected she had invited herself to come and help Mary cook the feasten dinner ; and it was funny to see this dry The name usually given to St. Juat feast as it is the nearest Sunday to All- Hallows. THE FEASTEN DINNER. 51 old creature " setting her cap " at old Dick all the time he was there. Next came an elderly couple from Sancras ; then two blooming damsels, sisters, from Morvah. And when all those expected were come, Mary said, " Jackey, my son," (though speaking to her husband) " es time for thee to take our Feastere to Church, for 1 and Cousin Gracey want all the room to cook dinner, you'll stop a spell in the public-house as usual, and all will be ready to place on the board by the time you come in." Though late for service in Church they had one comfort, as Jackey said, " they would be out as soon as the rest." About two o'clock the feasters came home and found the big crock lifted off the brandes (trivet) on to the hearth. In the large vessel were boiled a rump of beef, a couple of fowls, and a nice piece of streaky pork to ea^ with them ; as well as turnips, carrots, and other vegetables, all in kipps (net-bags) to keep them seperate and for convenience in taking up. The vegetables were placed to drain on bars called "kipp sticks," placed across the crock; the beef was dished up on a round pewter platter ; the fowls had melted butter and parsley — some of the butter poured on them, the rest served in a boat. A rabbbit-pie was steaming on the chimney stool ; and a baked figgy (plum) pudding was on the dresser, turned out of the baker on to another pewter platter, and powdered over with white sugar. On one end of the hearth, over a few embers, stood a little pot, the very model of the larger vessel but not more than a tenth of its size, containing choice red- apply potatoes, steaming under a cloth, all the water having been poured off. At the sight of this Dick clapped his hands and cried ""what a dear little crock !" When the female guests came down, with their dresses pinned up, that they mightn't be foust (soiled or rumpled) they found dinner served. Mary took from the dresser pewter flagons, which shone like silver and were only used on grand occasions, to serve the ale. Tf the feasters didn't make a good dinner it was from no fault of their entertainers, for it was "cut and come again" till all declared they were' "choke full and ready to burst." Then they had a nip of brandy all round, to settle their stomachs. Jugs of hot toddy were next placed on the board, with a little tray of shag tobacco and long pipes. Crocks and pans put away, the fire was gathered to one end of the hearth ; fresh turves put on ; and the chimney-stool put back to its place on the other end of the roomy hearth, that those who liked best to smoke in the chimney corner might sit there. The men being made comfortable as their hearts could desire, Mary and her female friends went upstairs to have a cosy chat to themselves ; and there they had a bottle of old sweet- drink (mea^) which had been kept for the feast. Didn't their tongues go, two or three together, talking over the births and 52 HALLANTIDE. marriages that had lately taken place or were likely soon to occur amongst their acquaintances ; the new dresses seen in Church ; and scores of other matters dear to female hearts. When weary of being without the men, do-sCn they came to have a look round the " hale " (hall ?) Jackey asked if they, — the two blooming ones — would like to have a run down to the Cape 1 " No thank 'e, Jackey dear," said the elder, " tes too cold a place this time of the year, but well enow in summer. After we have warmed ourselves a bit we want to see the pretty things in your hale, brought home, from over sea, by your cousin, Tom Hattam." " You shall, my dears, and take a glass of hot toddy to warm 'e all through. I spose your sweethearts will be here soon ?" " No not yet, for hours," said the elder again ; " es time enow for them to come here when we want to be going home, and that won't be yet awhile. But I should'nt wonder if Nanny's Tom es here before long to know where he shall meet you and some other San Tusters to-morrow to go rabbit shooting. You must come over to Morvah, he said, for he can tell you where a hare's likely to be found and rabbits in plenty. Her boy, Tom es roving mad sometimes to get married and be off over sea to a place where many of his comrades went some years ago, and are doing well there, so Tom says. What's the place called Nancy, that thee art always dreaman about?" '* Dodgeville," replied the younger ; "es near Mineral Point." Jackey having set the Morvah girls a-talking about their sweethearts, and the subject of their discourse being of little interest to any but themselves, the Sancras man, taking Jackey's two elder children, went to visit some relatives of his and theirs in another part of Churchtown. His wife was asleep on Mary's bed, being tired after her walk from Trannack and a hearty meal. At last when the girls paused a moment they and the rest went to look at the pretty things in Mary's hale. Whether Jackey Angwin's best room be called a hale or a parlour, it was a very neat little place, ^ — almost too bright and nice and full of nick-nacks for one's eyes to rest on anything. The mantel-shelf was so crowded with china cattle, chiefly cows and sheep, with a shepherd and shepherdess under a tree, taking care of them, that they had scarcely room either to lie or to stand amidst crystals of quartz, or Cornish diamonds, and other choice specimens, and foreign shells. There were also two circus horses, red and white ones, rearing on their hind legs, on either end of the shelf, and ready for a spring down on the floor. Hanging on the walls over the mantel was that red-hot picture of Vesuvius and the Bay of Naples, which seamen so often bring home from some Levantine port to let their friends know something of the wonders they have seen. " Come here, Dick, and the rest of 'e, and tell us about this picture and other foreign things that THE HOUR IS COME BUT NOT THE MAN. 53 Cousin Jack brought home on his return from his first voyage abroad." Dick looked at the picture and said, " This is the same that one may see in almost every house in Capens Row, and in many on Sandy Bank. Sailors all tell a story about it and say tnat a long while ago, a vessel was becalmed for three days and two nights within sight of that burning mountain. About one o'clock, or earlier, on the third night, they heard a loud voice, coming from that mountain, say, ' the hour es come, but the man es'nt come.' Lookan to windward just after, the sailors saw a black cloud rising from out over the sea and coming straight towards them. When just over the main-tops they saw plainly that what they had taken for a cloud was a p ompany of infernal spirits, carrying off among them a man they had known. He was a Barbary pirate whose vessel they had sunk with all on board not long before. The men heard dreadful cries as the infernal spirits bore the pirate away right to the mountain that had only ben smoakan for days before ; but as the infernals approached and took the man down et blazed up and roared like thunder. Then a gale sprung up and brought the ship into port — thereabouts, where you see the red-lookan housen," said Dick pointing to Naples. [This sounds much like an old kmonish legend, and it probably is one adapted from the ancient myth which tells of Etna and Vesvivius being the chimney-tops of Tartarus.] " Can that story be true V asked Gracey, looking at the picture as if she expected to see the cloud of infernals. " I don't know I'm sure," Angwin replied, ". for Jack told us the same ; but sailors spin such queer yarns, and so besmeared with their tarbrush, that one can't ever tell what^s in them of truth. Now when Jack brought us this picture (and other things we'll see bem by) Granny was here. She put on her spectacles to have a good look, but couldn't make out what it was. When Jack told her et was a burnan mountain she said ' Hold thy tongue ; I'll never believe that ; es a bad picture of a house a fire I spose.' ' Well, old dear,' replied he, ' you won't credit me weth haven sen many things that you hav'nt. You wan't believe praps that when on the Red Sea shores I seed the axle-trees of Pharoah's chariots stickan out of the sand weth the linch-pins still in them. The wheels and the other tember was rotten and washed away.' 'Perhaps I may believe that, said she. ' An old ship-mate of mine,' continued Jack, ' who had ben a long way inland told me he had sen Lot's wife turned into rock-salt. 'Tes still standan in that dry climate, and he cracked off the little finger of her right hand. It's grown again : fingers and toes shoot out, or sprout anew, during a flowing tide.' 'Why what is become of the finger?' asked she. 'That, at the bottom of the sea, now,' replied he, ' weth many other strange things, such as Eve's apples, very fair to see but all full of ashes 54 HALLANTIDE. within jest like ' colebrands ' (smutty ears of wheat.) His ship was sunk with a blow from a whale's tail, and he wed a ben drowned, ef by good luck he hadn't a got hold of a dolphan, which he mounted when sinkan, and thei good fish, always friendly to sailors, bore him safe to shore.' ' Now I wan't heer any more of thy stories,' said Granny, 'for one can't tell what to believe of them.' When Jackey ceased talking the company passed on towards a large table, with turned-down leaves, which stood against the wall opposite the window. Resting on this table and supported by the wall was an oval mahogany tea tray of the old fashion, and above it pictures o^ the four Evangelists, seemingly painted on glass. The saints' raiment was of as deep a dye as the lurid flames of Vesuvius or the purple waters of Naples Bay. In front of the tea tray was a pile of books, and at either end a large foreign shell, so turned as to show the delicate pink of its inner surface. " Put one of these to your ear, my dear," said Dick to the younger Morvah damsel, "and you will hear waves surging on the shoi " I only jest remember that time," said another old' man, "there was much alarm amongst the farmers ; the ' guides ' were called out, and the cattle branded on horns and hoofs, that they might be known to their owners, when all the stock belongan to a neighbourhood, should be herded together, and drivan away up along, as it was expected they wed, that the enemy should not come at them." 96 ZENNOR HEARTHSIDE STORIES. "Don't 'e mind, too," resumed TJncle Ilonney, "how notices were put upon Churcii doors, and other places, forbiddan any bonfires to be made at Midsummer, lest they might be mistaken for bickan-fires,* and give a false alarm, like Santusters ded, when they theft the French had one night landed on Gwenvor Sand, where the Danes used to come ashore and pillage the country round. There were trusses of dry furze kept upon all the bickan- hills, ready for firan ; it was the women in Santust 'Chtown who raised the alarm and caused* the bickans to blaze from Chapel Cam Brea to Plymouth ; troops were dispatched from garrison, but they didn't know where to take to, lost their way west of Falmouth, and were found down in Gweek, a week after ' jousters ' and other market-folk had brought news of this false alarm to Falmouth. About that time it was when this song was often singed by tinners around Redruth. " I don't remember how the words were broft into rhymes mind 'e. Et said how , Englishmen had beaten the French over and over again ; taken countries they once ruled over, had them still, and meant to keep them too. Ef Boney's men landed upon Cornish shores, we wed beat them to bruss. Then it was said how the French were a 'heap of poor pelyacks't who, at home, had neither decent meat nor clothes ; but were glad to catch quilkans, J bullhorns, U and padgy paws;§ and to stampy about in temberan " The burden, or running verse, that came in at every four luies was this : — ' They shall not eat of our good meat, Our pelchers and petates.' " " There was an old Cornish Dialogue in verse, too,'' said another old man, " which gave much the same account." " I should dearly like," said the visitor, " to get copies of that song and dialogue, or of as much as is known of them." " That old piece Uncle Konney spoke- of es forgotten among us," replied our host, " but I know another, not so old, that's often told for Christmas pastime, in place of a Guise dance of St. George and the Turkish Knight ; we'll get'n up for 'e now, the same as we do at Christmastide ; ef Jenny will be Mai Treloar, I'll take the part of Sandry Kemp." " That I will," said our hostess, " and Uncle Honhey can give me the word when I may forget et, jest as he do to youngsters aotan a Christmas play ; he'll speak for the Cap'n, too, and say other bits requiran a third speaker." The company having placed themselves as the landlady directed, gave the following Cornish Dialogue : 'Beacon. + Mean men. {Frogs. IT Shell-snails. § Small Liiards. MAL TRELOAEE AND SANDRY KEMP KISS AND BECOME GOOD FRIENDS AGAIN: OR BACKBITING CRULL OUTWITTED. "T^WAS Kendle teenan, when jung Mai Treloare 1 Trudg'd hum from Bal, a buoken copper ore ; Her olathing hard andruflf, black was her eye, Her face and arms like stuff from Cairn Kye. Full butt she mit jung Sandry Kemp, who long She had been token'd to, come from Ding Dong ; Hes jacket wet, his faace rud like his beard. And through his squarded hat hes heer appeared. She 'said, ' ' Oh Kemp,- 1 thoft of thee well leer, Thees uaw that daay we wor to Bougheehere, That daay with ale and cakes, at three o'clock, Thees stiifFd me so, I jist neen eraok'd me dock : Jue said to me, ' Thee mayst depend thee life I love thee, Mai, and thee shust be ma wife.' And to ma semmen, tes good to lem ma naw Whether the words were aal in jest or no." Sandry. — Why, truly, Mai, I like a thing did zay That I wud have thee next Chewiden daay. But zence that time I like a thing ded hear Thees went wi' some one down, I naw where ; Now es that fitty, Mai ? What dost think ? Mai. — Od rat tha body, Sandry, whp said so ? Now, faath and traath, I'll naw afore I go ; Do lem ma naw the Gossenbary dog. SaTidry. — Why, then, CruU said jue wor down to Wheal Bog With he and Tabban, and ded play some tricks By dabben clay at jungsters makau bricks ; Aand that from there jue went to Aafe-waye house, Aand drink't some leoker. Mai, now there's down souse. Aand jue to he, like a think ded zay, Jue wed have he, and I mait go away. Mal.—l tell the lubber so ! I to Wheal Bog ! I'll scat hes chacks, the emprent, saucy dog. Now hire me, Sandry Kemp, now down and full, Ef thee arten hastes, the shust hire the whole. Fust jue must naw, tes true as thee art theere, Aant Blanch and I went to Golsinney feer. Who overtookt us in the dusty road. In common hum but CruU, the cloppen toad. Zes he to Aant, . " What cheer ? Aant Blanch, what cheer ? Jue maizes good coose, suppose jue ben to feer." " Why, hiss," zes Aant, " ben there a pewer spur ; I wedu't a gone ef nawed ed ben so fur. 98 ZENNOR HEARTHSIDE STORIES. I bawft a pair of shods for Sarah's cheeld." By this time, lock ! we cum jist to the field. We went to clember up the temberen style, (Haw keept his eye upon me all the while. ) Zes haw to Aaut, " Then whos es thees braa maide ? Come tha wayst long, dasent be afraid. " Then moVd by my side, like a thing, Aand pull'd my mantle, and jist toHch'd my ohing. " How arry, Jung woman ? " zes haw. " How dost do ? ' Zes I, " Jue saucy dog, what's that to jue ? Keep off, Jung lad, else thees have a slap. " Then haw fooch'd some great big doat figs in me lap, So I thoft, as haw had ben so kind, Haw might go by Aant Blanch, ef haw had a mind. Aand so haw ded, aand tookt Aant Blanch's arm. " Areah ! " zes haw, " I dedn't mane no harm." So then Aant Blanch and he ded talk and jest Bout dabbing clay and bricks at Perran feast. Sandry.- — Ahah then, Mai, 'twas there they dabbed the clay ? Mai. — Plaase Faather, Kemp, tes true wot I do saay. Aand hire me now, pla-sure, haw dedn't budge From Aanty's arm tell jest this side Long Brudge. Aand then zes he to Aant, " Shall we go in To Aaf e-way house, ^d have a dram of gin ■ Aand trickle mixt. Depend ol do es good, Taake up the sweat and set to rights the blud. " So Aant ded say, " Such things she dedn't chuse," Aand squeeze my hand, aand loike a thing refuse. So when we passed along by Wheal Bog moor, Haw jumpt behind, and pok't us in the door. Haw caal'd for gin, aand brandy too, I think. He clunk'd the brandy, we the gin ded drink. So when haw wish'd good night as es the caase, Haw kiss't Aant Blanch, shid jist neen touch'd my faace. Now, Sandry Kemp, there's nothing shure in this, To my moinde, then, that thee shust taake amiss. Sandry. — No fath, then Mai, ef this es all, aand true, I had a done the same ef I was jue. Mai. — Next time in any house I see or hear am, I'U down upon the plancheon, rat am, scat am, Aand I will so poam am, — Samdry. — Our Kappen's there, just byvthickey bush. Hush ! now Mally, hush ! Aand as hes here, so close upon the way I wedent wish haw nawed what we ded zay, Aand jett I dedent care, now fath and soul, Ef so be our Kappen wor to hire the whole. How arry Kappen ? Where be going so fast ? Jure goin' hum, suppose, juse in sich haste. Kappen — Who's that than ? Sandry, arten thee ashamed To coosy so again ? Thee wnst be blamed Ef thees stay nere all night to prate wi' Mai ! When tes thy cour, thee wusten come to Bal. Aand thee art a Cobbe, I tell thee so. I'll tell the owners ef thee dosent go. CORNISH DIALECT. 99 Sandry. —Why, harkee, Kappen, don't skoal poor I, Touch pipe a orum, jue'll naw the reason why. Coozen Mai aand I ben courtain bout afe a year. Hould up tha head, Mai ; don't be ashamed, dost hire ? Aand CruU one day made grief 'tween 1 and she ; But he shall smart for it now, I swear by G . Haw told me lies, as round as any cup. Now Mai and I have mit, we've made it up ; So, Kappen, that's the way I stopt, I vow. Kappen, — Ahah ! I dedent giss the oaase jist now. But what dost think of that last batch of ore ? Sandry -^Why pewer and keenly gossen, Kappen sure ; I bleeve that day, ef Franky's pair wornt drunk, We shud had pewer stuff too from the sump. But there, tes all good time, as people saay, The flooken now, aint throw'd us far away ; So hope to have bra tummalls soon to grass. How ded laast batch down to Jaudower pass ? Kappen. — Why, hang thy body, Sandry, speed, I saay, Thees keep thy clacker going till tes day. Go speak to Mally now, jue foolish toad, I wish both well, I'll keep my road. Sandry. — Good nightie, Kappen, then I wishee well. Where artee, Mally ? Dusten haw hire me, Mai ? Dusent go away, why jue must think of this. Before we part, shure we must have a kiss. She viiped her mumle from the mundic stuff. And he rubb'd his, a little stained with snuff. Now then, there, good night Mai, there's good night ; But, stop a crum. Mally. — Good night. Kappen. — Good night. Kendle teenan, candle lighting. Squarded hat, broken or cracked hat. Lem ma knaw, let me know, tell me. Wheal Bog, wheal, or, correctly spelt, huel, is old Cornish, and signifies a mine or work. Doat figs, broad figs. A Cobbe, a simpleton, a bungler. Bra tummalls, brave heaps, large piles of ore. The guest, for whose entertainment the old men had furbished up their memories, said, "that piece is a capital one, and it seems all the better from the way in which you have told it. Your dialect is pleasant to hear ; it is softer and more musical' than that of most other parts of England. " Many Cornish drolls remind me of Irish stories, which show similar traits of character. I have seen a piece by Tregellas, a St. Ann's man, I suppose, as he says much about people in that parish and its neighbourhood, 100 ZENNOE HEARTHSIDE STOEIES. "There is one story of his which shows how prone Cornish people are to stretch a point or two, as you call it. I mean that story of a boy telling his mother there are scores and hundreds of cats caterwauling upon the roof ; his mother reproves him for making such an unreasonable stretch, and sends him out to see how many are there ; he returned, and, condescending to teU the truth at last, says that he could 'only see grammar's cat and ours.' " An Irish story, called ' The Three Geese,' shows the habit of augmenting the number of things, and of obstinacy in sticking to the words said. " I'U tell the Irish story, if you'd like to hear it, as it's told by my old friend Patrick Kennedy." " We should all be delighted to hear et, I'm sure," said the host. " Then let us have a good large jug of toddy-^half-a-gallon or so — that all the company may drink together of the same, and make the story seem less dry," said the Irish gentleman. A jorum of hot grog having been brought and served, all the company wished the guest health, happiness, and a long Ufe ; and " may your shadow never grow less," added our host. Then the following Irish story was told in native style. THE THREE GEESE. SH, dear ! O, dear ! what headstrong crathers the woman- kind is ! The more you want them to do any thing that's right, the surer they are not to do it, unless the advice is given to a young girl by a gay deludher of a young man something above her station, or to a mistress of a family by some tay-dhrinking, gossiping, cabin- hunting, idle sthra that does nothing bat go about pretending to knit a stocking, and she does knit it at the rate of four rounds in the day. It reminds me of the tailor and his wife that were not satisfied without bringing trouble into their cabin, when it pleased Providence not to be sending any. The poor man was sitting contentedly on his board stitching away (I'm sure I wish I knew how a tailor manages to keep his thraneens of legs the- way he does for so long), and his wife that was cabin-hunting may be, bawled out, just as she was darkening the door, " Ah, you idle sthronshuch 1 there you are sitting at your GOING TO DIE THROUGH OBSTINACY. 101 aise, and a hundred geese trampling down our little oats ; get up, you lazy drone, and drive them away." " Musha, I think," says he, "you're more at leisure yourself; but rather than have a scolding match, here we go." So getting up, he went out, and when he looked to the field, " Arrah, woman," says he, " what's on your eyes at all? I see but two geese." "Two geese, inagh ! purshuin' to the goose less than fifty there, any way." " Fifty 1 1 wish I was as sure of fifty guineas as that there is only two in it." "Ah! goodness help poor creatures of women with their tyrants of husbands ! I tell you up to your teeth, there is forty geese there destroying the oats, as sure as there is one." " Well, well, two, or forty, or a hundred, I had better drive them off." When dinner came she poured out the potatoes, and laid his noggin of milk and plate of butter out for him ; but went and sat LQ the corner herself, and threw her apron over her head, and began to sob. " Arrah, Judy acushla," says he, " what's this for? come over and take your dinner, and let us be thankful, instead of • flying in God's face." " N-n-n-no indeed, I w-w-w-will not. To say such a thing as that there was only two ge-ge-ge-geese there when T reckoned a whole score!" "Oh! to Halifax with them for geese : let them go and be shot, woman, and come over to the table." " Indeed and I will not till you own to the truth." Well not a bit did she eat ; and when night came, she make a shake _ down for herself, and would not gratify the poor tailor by sleeping in her own good high-standing bed. Next morning she did not rise; but when her husband spoke kindly, and brought some break- fast to the bedside, she asked him to go for her mother and relations till she'd take leave of them before she'd die, as there was no use living any more, when all love was gone from him. " But, Judy dear, why do you go on in this way ? what have I done t " " Don't you say there was only two geese there, and at the very lowest there could not be less than a dozen. Can't you acknowledge the truth, you obstinate pig of a man, and let us be at peace again 1 " Instead of making any answer, he walked over to her mother's house, and brought her over, with two or three of her family; and they laid siege to the wife, but they might as well be preachin' to a stone wall ; and she almost persuaded them that her husband was to blame. " Now call him," says she, "and I'll insense you who is wrong. Darby, on the nick of your soul, and if you don't intend to send me to my grave, speak the truth like a Christian, and don't be heapin' sins on your miserable head. I'll leave you no back door, for I'll only insist on three geese, though I'm sure there was six at the very least ; wasn't there three geese in the field when I called you out ! " " Och, Judy asthore ? never miad : let there be three-and-thirty if you like, but don't let us be idlin' and tormentin' our people here. Get up in the name of goodness 102 ZENNOR HEARTHSIDE STORIES. and eat a bit." "But wasn't there three geese there, I say, Darby t " "Ah, dickens a one but two if you go to that," " Oh, Vuya, Vuya ! isn't this a purty story t Go home, go home, all of yez, and bid Tommy Mulligan prepare my coffin, and bring it over about sun-down, and just give me one night's dacent waking :* I won't ax the two, for I don't wish to give so much trouble to the neighbours, and indeed I think I couldn't stand the ungratitude and conthrariness of them that ought to know better, and feel for a body ; gind after all that I done and slaved for him, and gave up Neddy Brophy for him, that was six inches taller, and a carpenter besides." Well, thinking it might give her a fright, they went and brought a coffin that was ready made at the time, and some fresh shavings in the bottom ; and the women of the town, that gathered as soon as the coffin came, ordered out the men till they'd wash the corpse. She said nothing till the men were outside ; but then she gave tonguer, and asked how dare they think that she wanted washing ! It might do well enough for a real dead body, but she was thankful it had'nt come to that with her yet, and if she chose to die it was no concern of theirs ; and if any one attempted to lay a drop of water, on her skin, she'd lay the marks of her ten nails on their face. Well, she was got some way into the coffin, and a clean cap and friU'put round her face; and, as she was not pale enough, a little girl shook some flour on her cheeks. Before the men and boys were let in, she asked for a looking glass, and when she saw what a fright she looked with the flour, she got a towel and rubbed every bit of it ofi" again. She bid her husband be called in, and gave her sister and mother charge, in his hearing, to be kind and attentive to the poor a/ngashore after she was gone : at any rate till he'd get a new wife, which she supposed would not be very far off'; for though he was * Patrick Kennedy's description of an Irish walie, may remind elderly Cornish people of a custom generally observed in West Cornwall, at least, in the last century ; that of holding watch-night, with the deceased, for one night, and keeping lighted candles in the room in which the body was laid out, every night until the funeral. All those friends of the family who intended to follow the body to its grave, as "mourners" were expected to join the watchers. It was customary to have a supper for them (the watchers) about midnight ; and a few hours afterwards tl\e watching was concluded. It was never the custom here, withiji our remembrance to address the spirit, supposed to be hovering near its body, until the latter was consigned to earth, as the Irish do at this day. In their " croneing " the spirit is mostly spoken to in consoling or flattering words ; and often a little blarney is added also. Both in Ireland and here, it was thought a great slight or an insult if friends, who had formal notice of a decease, did not attend at the watch-night or wake. It is evident, however, that these customs are remnants of the same ancient British usage, amongst those of the Celtic race. A pleasing picture of this ancient observance may be seen in Cymbeline, — Act iv. Scene 2. A WAKE. 103 unkind and conthrary, thank goodness she knew her duty, and she supposed he could not help his nature, and it was better as it was, before they'd grow old, and she might get peevish and lose her temper, and they might become a gazabo to the neighbours by fightin' and scoldin.' " I'll engage now, after all is said and done, he wo'nt give way an inch, nor acknowledge the three geese." Well, the moment the geese were mentioned, he put on his hat without a word, and walked out. So evenin' came, and the candles were lighted, and the tobacco and pipes were all laid out, and the poor dead woman had to listen to a good deal of discourse not at all to her liking ; and the talk went on in this way. " Musha, neighbour, doesn't the corpse look mighty well t When did she die, poor woman 1 What ailed her, did you hear ? " " Indeed I believe it was Gusopathy, as Tom K. the schoolmaster called it just now ; something with ' goose ' in it any way : you know the way the skin does be in a sudden cold, with little white risings on it, they call it a goose's skin. May be she had it very bad, and her husband could not bear it, and so she died of grief." " Poor man, he'U feel her loss for a week or two, she was a careful woman." "Ah, but hadn't she a bitter tongue of her own?" "Troth I think Darby will bear her loss with Christian patience. He is a young man for his years ; he doesn't look forty, he'll be getting his choice of wives. I think poor Judy was careful and laid by a few guineas ; won't the new wife feel comfortable, and may be soon put wind under the money ! " " To my notion, Judy was in too great a hurry to die. From her looks there, she might bury two tailors yet, and may be get a big bodagh of a farmer for her third husband. Well, it can't be helped, but I would not like to be warming a bed for the best woman in the townland if I was Judy. She is at peace at last, poor woman ; and mighty hard she found it to keep the peace with her neighbours while she was alive. Who is that you said used to be walking with Darby of odd Sunday evenings before his marriage 1 If ghosts are allowed to take the air on Sunday evenings, poor Judy's will have something to fret her in a few weeks." Well, all this time, the poor dead woman's blood was rushing li^e mad through her veins ; and something was swelling in her throat as if she was going to be choked, but still the divel was so strong in her that she never opened her eyes nor her mouth. The poor broken-hearted husband came up after some time, and leaning over her face he- whispered, "Judy, acushla, isn't it time to be done with this foolery] Say but one reasonable word, and I'll send all these people about their business." " Ah, you little-good- for crather, you havn't the spirit of a man, or you would never bear all they have been saying of your poor neglected wife these two hours past. Are the three geese there ? " "Not a goose but , 1()4 ZENNOR HBAETHSIDE STOKIES. two if you were to be waked for a twelvemonth. ;'' and off lie went and sat in a dark part of the room till daylight. ^ He made another offer next morning, just as the led was puttm' on the cofiin, and the men were goih' to hoise it on their shoulders ; , but not a foot she'd move unless he'd give in to the three geese. So they came to the churchyard, and the coffin was let down in the grave, and just as they were preparing to fill all up, poor Darby went down, and stooping to where he had left some auger holes in the lid, he begged of her even after the holy show she made of himself and herself, to give up the point, and come home. " Is the three geese there 1 " was all he could get out of her, and this time his patiefice got so thread-bare, and he was so bothered by want of sleep, and torment of mind, that he got beside himself, and jumped up, and began to shovel the clay like mad, down on the coffin. The first rattle it made, however, had like to frighten the life out of the buried woman, and she shouted out, " Oh, let me up ! I'm not dead at all : let there be only two geese, Darby asthore, if you like." " Oh, be this ahd be that," said Darby, "it is too late : people have come far and near to the funeral, and we can't let them lose their day for nothing : so for the credit of the family, don't stir," and down went the clay in showers, for the tailor had lost his senses. Of course the by-standers would not let the poor woman be buried against her own will ; so they seized on Darby and his shovel, and when his short madness was checked, he fell in a stump on the sod. When j)Oor Judy was brought to life, the first sight she beheld was her husband lyin' without a kick in him, and a wag of a neighbour proposed to her to let Darby be put down in her place, and not give so many people a disappointment after coming far and near. The dead woman, by way of thanks, gave him a slap across the face that he felt for two days ; and not minding the figure she cut in her grave-clothes, fell on poor Darby, and roared and bawled for him to come to life, and she'd never say a conthrary word to him ugain while she lived. So, some way or other they brought the tailor round ; but how her and him could bear to look each other in the face for a while, I don't know. May be as there was a good deal of love under all the crossness, they found a way to get into their old habits again, and whenever she felt a tart answer coming to- her tongue, she thought of the rattling of the clay on the coffin, and of the three geese that were only two after all ; and if they didn't live happy — ; — but that's the end they put to lying fairy stories, and as this one is so true and moral, it can afford to do without a tail. When the ajjplause and remarks occasioned by this story had somewhat subsided, our hostess spoke a few words in her husband's MIGHTY GENTEEL IN THEIR MANNERS. 105 ear ; she might have meant to whisper, but the guest asked what she said about trouble. " That she and the rest," replied our host, " wed beg and pray for e to tell them another story, but they were afraid to trouble e." " It will give me much pleasure," said the Irish gentleman, " to teU another, of quite a different sort," and he ^jresently told the following story of a brave Irish boy's luck. THE EARL OF STAIRS' SON. |HE father was called the Earl of Stairs, because his little house was just on the side of Black Stairs, looking towards Puck's Bridge. One eave rested on the side of the rock, and the walls were good strong stone walls (there is no scarcity of stones in them parts), and the roof was as snug as scraws and heath could make it. The Earl enclosed as much land off the common as he could till ; so there was no scarcity of oaten bread, or potatoes, or eggs, or goats' milk ; and small thanks to him for keeping up a good fire, for the turf bog was within a hen's race of his castle. Both he and his wife were of old respectable families ; and so, as they had the good drop of blood, and some larning, and were mighty genteel in their manners, they were called Lady Stairs and the Earl of Stairs. One day, an ignorant omadhaun of a mountaineer came in on some business, and he sat down, and kept looking at a bunch of keys that was hanging from a table-drawer, and says he, after a long pause, " Ma'am, " says he, " do you sell kays here 1 " Well, when the little boy was about fifteen years old, and knew more nor any school-master within ten miles of him, he was so eager after the learning, that he set out over the mountain, and through Carlow, and Kilkenny, and whatever lies at the back of them, till he came to Munster. He got into a capital school there, and learned all them branches I mentioned while ago, ay, and grammar along with them ; I forgot the grammar. A Mr. Blundell teached in that school about twenty years ago, but I don't know the name of the young Earl's master who lived long before that time. He paid nothing for his knowledge, but helped the master now and then ; and the farmers' children going to the school were 106 ZENSrOR HEARTHSIDE STORIES. glad to take him home at night, as he was so ready to share his knowledge with them. , No wonder he should find it so easy to pick up learning in Munster, where they say the Little boys minding the cows converses with one another in Latin. At last and at long, he returned home, a fine genteel young man ; and did not his poor mother cry with joy, when she heard him talking to the priest the next Sunday, after Mass, and conversing with him in Latin, and French, and Portugee. Well, there was nothing to hinder him now from being a priest himself, if he chose, as the old people had some guineas laid up in the thatch in an old stocking ; but though he was pious enough iu his own way, he said he had no vocation ; and that any one becoming a priest without a vocation, would be only endangering his own soul and the souls of his flock. Every week he used to get an invitation to some great farmers' house for tay and hot cake, and wherever the priest had a station, he was sure to be there. The girls had an eye on him, but though he was polite enough, he paid no particular attention to any one ; and then they began to find out that his pai-ents were below their own rank in life, and that his geese were all swans in his own eyes, and that the concait of some people was astonishing. He used to ramble about the rocks with a book in his hands ; and though he was ready enough to help the Earl at his work, the deuce a hand would the old fool let him lay to a single thing. At last as they were sitting round the fire on a winter's night, tte young fellow up and told the old couple, that he was tired of doing nothing and having nothing to do, and that he would set out on his travels, and that he, hoped he would have something pleasant to write home about before long. The poor old people were sad enough at this ; but after doing all they could to persuade him to stay at home, and marry, and take a farm, or open a shop in Newtownbarry (it was only Bunclody then), or Enniscorthy, or New Eoss, he still held out, and one fine day he set forward to Dublin, and took ship there, and tale or tidings were not heard from him for two years, except one letter that he sent them from Paris about five months after he set sail ; and in this letter he said he was well off' teaching English to a merchant's children. A last one fine summer afternoon, a fine looking gentleman with a foreign appearance, and speaking English in a queer style, and travelling in a post-chaise, stopped at the inn at the cross of Rathduff, and put up there till next day ; but said he wanted a guide to show him the way to the Earl of Stairs' castle. The people knew the nickname well enough, and after he got some refreshment, a boy was sent to show him the way. When they came nigh the cabin which was on the open common, and near the AT THEIR SUPPER. 107 ending of a lane that came up straight through the enclosed fields, they heard a gi-eat grunting and squeeling, and there they saw two stout two-year old pigs with their noses to the half-door, shrovellin' at it with all their might, and only for the rings in their snouts they'd have it down in less than no time ; and the squeelin' they kept up all the time was enough to vex«a saint. A puckawn* and eleven meenshoguesi yr&ce surnadin' along the ridge of the roof, and cantherin' round the bawn, and givin' a puck now and then to the musicianers at the door to quicken the tune a bit. Well, the gorsoon got through the goats and gave a welt or two to the pigs, and got them out of the way, and then he bawled out, " Earl of Stairs, are you within if you please, sir ? Here's a gentleman from foreign parts come to see you." So with that the Earl came and opened the half-door, and requested the gentleman to walk in. There was as fine a dish of white eyes on their little table as you could wish to see, and a couple of noggins of boiled goats' milk by the side of it, and a plate of butter, and the moment the gentleman entered, they pressed him to sit down and join them ; and Lady Stairs filled out a mug of milk, and laid a knife and a pat of butter for the stranger. He thought to explain his business at once, but they would not hear a word till he would first eat and drink. So he hung his hat on a peg, and taking the knife in his hand, he cut one of the potatoes in two, and watched to see how the master and mistress managed theirs. And he was so polite that he laid down his knife, and began to peel ofi' the potato skins with his fingers. Well, he did not relish that way of going to work much, so he took up the knife again and dispatched a couple of potatoes, and took a pull at the milk which I'm sure was good enough for a queen. Well, the table was small, and the mistress thinking that the potatoes were not much to their visitor's taste, took down a wooden bowl, filled with good home-made cakes ; and la)ring it on her lap, as the little table was crowded, she buttered a good slice, and asked him to try it if he pleased. He done his best to seem to relish every thing, and the Earl holding a lighted dipped rush in one hand, pressed him to make a hearty supper. When the cloth was ofi" the table, the Earl wiped his hands on a wisp of straw in the corner : you will know by and by, why I mention this straw, and the other things. When he was done with it he thi-ew it into the blaze, and it was burnt. Now, don't forget the dish held on the lady's lap, nor the rush in the Earl's hand, nor the straw. At last says the Frenchman in broken English, as soon as they would let him speak, " Madame, the mistress of the house, havn't * He-Goat. t She-Goat. 108 ZENNOE HEARTHSIDE STORIES. you a son tliat left you about two years ago ? " The poor woman got into such, a tremble, that some of the cakes fell out of the bowl, and the father opened his eyes and his mouth, but couldn't say a word. " Oh sir, dear," says the mother, " have you seen our poor boy ! " " Yes," says he, " T have seen him, and he is aUve and well, and well to do, and likely to be better." " And when is he coming home, and why didn't he write, and how does he look, and why didn't he come with you ? " " As I can't speak the English very easily, you may better let me tell my story in my own way," says the Frenchman, for a Frenchman he was : " I am the head man of business to a merchant in Paris ; and about a year and half ago, a young genteel-looking Irishman was engaged by my employer to teach his children English. There was something so mild and engaging about the young fellow, that the children and the elder people got * very much attached to him, and the young lady their eldest daughter began to like him better than the others. Your son, for so he was, never took any airs on himself, and the young lady seeing that he paid no particular attention to her, began to mope and be dismal, and at last took to her bed, and was sick in earnest. The mother, by some means, found out what ailed her, and let her husband know ; but he was very angry, and indeed herself was not much better, but ' still the girl was ailing without making any complaint. The young teacher made a great many mistakes in the lessons from the first day he missed the young lady from her place ; and some of the servants remarked him several nights in the street at late hours, and looking up at the light of one of the windows. At last, fearing that they would lose their daughter altogether, the mother began to question the young Irishman about his family at home. He made no boast, except that he was descended from good old Irish families on both sides ; and that the lands belonging to his forefathers were taken from them, because they would not renounce their religion nor their king; and he , mentioned that his own father and mother were still called in jest, Earl and Lady Stairs. j " Well they had no great occasion to ask him what he thought :| of their daughter, for one of her young brothers happening to call one day at his lodging, and stepping in on tiptoe, and peeping over his shoulder, he found him sobbing and kissing a little picture which ; he had made of his sister, unknown to any body. s: - " So the old gentleman at last gave his consent, on condition "1 that a person he'd send over to Ireland, to his father's place, woiild- bo able to give a satisfactory account of the state of things here. ,| I think he expected that by getting time, and leaving the lady to herself, she might change her mind ; especially as there is no end to the balls and entertainments going on, and as all the yoiing i i ^ ^ SHARED THE BEST THEY HAD. 109 gentlenlen. of their acquaintance are invited to the house, night after night. Miss Mary is a very lively, rattling young damsel, ■with dark sparkling eyes ; and we all wondered how she was so taken with your son, who is very quiet in his manner, and used to say so little. My master hopes from the briskness of her character, that she wUl get tired of his quietness ; but I am sure he will be mistaken ; and now a good deal depends on the news I am to send home in a day or two." " Oh dear," says the poor mother, "what will you be able to say about such humble people as we, to make your employer think well of the match t " " At all events," 'says the stranger, " I can say of you, that before you knew anything of my business, you shared the best you had with me, and what more could you do if you were a real lady 1 Now if you have any way for me to sleep, I'll let my guide go back and bring up my dressing-case from the ion ; and we will take tomorrow to go to the top of this mountain here, and walk about, and settle how every thing is to be ; and next day I'll write home." Well, then, he pulled out a letter from their son ; and, between laughing and crying, they read, how at -first he wrote after getting into business, and then when the trouble came, he did not wish to send any letter till he would have something pleasant to say. He put in everything to make them cheerful ; and now and then something about the young lady would slip out, and her mother's kindness, and the love he had for the little brothers, and what a charitable good young lady she was, etc. So when the evening got late, Mounseer was put to rest in a snug little room where their son had his bed long ago, and well he might sleep too, for there was a feather pallet, with a nice dry mat tinder it ; and the fresh air of the mountain got in through chinks and crannies, and did not let the place feel too close ; and the sheets were clean and well aired, and the quilt had all the beautifulest flowers in the world cut out on it in the neatest patterns. Lady Stairs going in and out took notice that he spent a good deal of time about his razhurs and other dressing implements ; but if he passed any time on his kness, it ~ was a mighty short one entirelj'. Next morning they contrived to give the Frenchman a decent breakfast of tay, and white bread, and butter, though them things didn't often get so high up in the mountains ; and they say that the French don't iise tay at breakfast ; and after that he walked in his thin boots along with the Earl, to the very top of Blackstairs. I'm sure they had a delightful view from it, over the castles and demesnes of Mr. Colclough, Mr. Blacker, Mr. Carew, and all their plantations, and the woods of KUaughrim, and Tombrick, and the Slaney flowing along, and the towns of Ennis- 110 ZENKOB UEARTHSIDE STORIES. corthy and New Ross looking so small, and all the snug farmers' houses down in the county Carlow, with the green paddocks around them, and the bogs here and there, and the dry stone fences to the fields, and the town of Carlow, and the fine broad Barrow flowing off towards Graigue and New Ross. If they turned around to the sunrise, they covild enjoy the view of Mount Leinster, and the Wicklow hills, and Ferns, ' and Corrig Rua, and the far-off sea beyond all. Well, that evening he pulled out his letter paper, and his pen, and ink-horn ; and began a letter to the merchant in Paris, and this is the way a part of it was wrote. " Most respected sir, " I write these few Hues to you, hoping they shall find you in health as it leaves me at present, thanks, etc., etc., and the mistress, and Miss Mary, and the young Irish gentleman, and the other children. Thi^ country is very different from France ; land is so cheap and plenty that they cut away a great deal of every- field to make a big dyke, and they build up a great big ditch with the clay and stones they take out. The people are cheerful, and hospitable, and obliging ; but they are too fond of staying in their chapels, and saying long prayers. Our young gentleman was rather modest Ln speaking of his father's rank and possessions. I can hardly make a guess at the extent of the demesne that spreads round his mansion for miles and miles, without hedge or ditch, and the sheep and cattle that graze on it are beyond counting. When I drew nigh to the castle, up an avenue half, a mile long, it was in the evening, and the Earl and his Lady were at their supper. There were two musicianers stationed before the hall-door, and they played during the whole time, such music as you never heard in your life at any entertainment, no nor the King of France himself. Twelve halberd-men were drawn up in front by way of royal guard ; so venerable as they looked, and such beards as they had ! and while they were on duty they would not return a salute, nor answer a question to the King nor the Lord Lieutenant himself. Though the Earl and his Lady were at their supper in state, they showed me the greatest respect, when they heard from where I came. Will I ever forget the splendour of that supper ! The side table could not be valued by the owner at less than fifty thousand pounds ; and I am sure that the Earl would not part with the chief candkstidk that gave light to the feast for ten thousand any way. " After supper, the nobleman dried his hands on a towel with gold fringes,' at least they looked very like gold ; and so little regard had he for it that when he was done he thrune it into the fire. Moreover, he need not go out of his own desmesne for fii'ing for a hundred years to come ; and by the end of that time, A CLEVER LETTER-WRITER. Ill I'm sure you would hardly miss the trees that would be cut down. Such is the wonderful splendour of every thing here that I can hardly believe my own account of it ; and I'm sure the young Earl when he came to Paris, and ever since, pretended to be poor, that he might find some good young lady who would marry him for his own sake, and not for his rank nor his riches. " I will- take a look at Dublin, and the Wicklow and the Welsh mountains on my return ; and I hope to see my young mistress with the ring on her hand when I get home. " I am, etc., etc." Well, the clever Frenchman was asked to the priest's house to take tea that evening, and two or three of the gentlemen-farmers met him there. He was very glad to get in company with the priest, as he spoke French well, having studied at a place abroad called Louvain, and he told him the sort of letter he was sending home. The clergyman wondered at it, you may be sure, but he said that the young lady would be thankful for the invention ; and that her mother was won over already ; and that the' father only wished to make the thing look well in the eyes of their acquaintance ; and so the letter would satisfy everybody ; and from all he could hear of the young man from his old neighbours, his young mistress would never meet a better husband ; for he had good manners and a good appearance, and was a good scholar, and what few young Paris gentlemen were, he was a good Christian into the bargain. Well to make my long story short, the Earl of Stairs soon made an addition of two rooms to his castle, a parlour and a bed-room, and the next year, there was joy andi merriment in liis house, for his son and his beautiful black-eyed bride came home ; and they brought only a boy and a girl to wait on them ; and the servants were harder to please than their master and mistress ; and the merry young lady ran about among the heath and rocks, and her serious young husband and she were as fond as fond could be of one another ; and she laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks at the notion of the halberd-men, and the musicianers, and the demesne', and the side table, and the candlestick, and the towel with the gold fringes ; and she was as serious and devout at the little chapel as the poorest person there. They came to spend a fart of every summer at Blackstairs during the life of the old people J and if they didn't live happy, that we may ! " " These stories," continued the guest, " are pretty fair examples of such as are still related at Irish hearths." " We once had stories told here," said the host, " which were full of action and adventures, but they are forgotten now! Instead of such old tales, we have now mere quibbles on words, or modern 112 , ZENNOB HEARTHSIDE STORIES. anecdotes, 'with but little in them worth rememberLng. As Henny ' Quick said, years ago, — " Our Comisli drolls are dead, each one. The fairies from their haunts have gone ; There's scarce a witch in all the land. The world has grown so learn'd and grand." " Henny -wrote many short pieces,'' continued our hdst, " had them printed, and he sold them, with his mother's help ; yet wliat Henny called his copies of verses were on very doleful subjects when there was any new matter in them. " There was also a rhymster in Sancras, called Billy Foss, who would talk for ever so long in doggerel verse, but the greater part of it was very abusive ; this es what he said of Boslow : — " As I traversed Boslow I saw an old cow, A hog, and a flock of starved sheep ; Likewise an old mare, Whose bones were so bare They made her old master to -weep : A few acres of ground As bare as a pound, An old house just ready to fall ; Beside, there was no meat For the people to eat, , And that was the worst thing of all : No grass for the flocks. But a cam of dry rocks, Which afforded a horrible sight ; If you chance go that way, You must do so by day. For you'd smash out your brains in the night. No crock, pan, nor kettle ; No goods, much nor little. Was there to be found in the house ; No tables nor chairs. No bedding upstairs — Not so much as to cover a mouse." " There are rhymes enough in that,'' said the guest,* " and whether there's any reason you may best know." About this time the Cap'n of the tin-stamps and other old men rose and came to wish us good night, saying, " we must love e and leave e my dears, for we haave to get to work early ; the time es gone quickly, es past our landlord's hour for closean ; ef you' are goan away to-morrow we wish e well, and hope you may come to ' Sennor ' agen soon." We were glad to get sleep too, having had a long ramble in the morning, and expecting a tiresome walk back to Penzance before the next night. ZENNOR CHURCH. 113 In Zennor church we noticed, on a bench-end, the curious carving of a mermaid, -which has probably given rise to a legend* well known in the neighbourhood. The following epitaph on a, mural tablet, in the same church, is also somewhat remarkable ; — Here rest the Mortal part oe John Quick, of Wicka, Yeoman. He was hospitable, sociable, peaceable, humble, honest, and devout in manner. HE EXCELLED HIS EQUALS. In piett he was their example. He met death with composure. Sept. 12th, 1784, aged 74. " The Memory of the Just is Blessed." *See page 70. H FEOM PENZANCE TO CAEN GALVA NOTEWORTHY OBJECTS BY THE WAY. The past is slipping from our hold, as shadowy as dreams, The dim, mysterious, Ufeless past, — how faint, unreal it seems. But here and there we come across some waif upon the shore, Thrown landward by the waves of time, for man to ponder o'er. — J. B. ; AVING tiie day before us, we take our course to Madron, and only pause when near the village to turn round PI and admire the splendid landscape. Madkon. Madron Church is interesting to the archaeologist : the east end is said to be that of the original early English Church of about 1260. Among the objects worthy of notice in the interior, are the font, sedile, and piscina, and also several mural monuments. On one old tomb may be seen the following matter-of-fact inscription : — ' ' Belgium me birth, Braitaine me breeding gave, CornwaUe a wife, ten children, and a grave." Observe also the inscription on the brass of John Clies,~ln which the place now called Penzance is spelt Penzour ; and the north- west end window, recently presented to this Church by the Rev. M. N. Peters, the Yicar. There are many quaiat inscriptions on the old tombs, besides that to George Daniel. At Landithy farm house, near at hand, note the ancient doorway, which formed a portal to the preceptory of the Knights' Templars; a considerable portion of the college of these warrior monks, with some of the rooms adorned with curious portraits, supposed to he those of the early kings and queens of England, was standing until a few years ago, when the interesting old building was taken down and a farm-house erected on- its site.- From the old portal of Landithy college, we pass up the road north of the Church ; at the corner of the Union garden, take the path across the fields ; at the bottom of the lane leading out of the third field, turn down through the moors on the right, and a path OLD CUSTOMS. 115 over soft grass and camomile brings us to a stile, which takes us into the moor where are St. Madron's Well and Chapel. Madron "Well. To find the Holy Well, on entering the lower enclosure, pass down across the moor at a right angle to the hedge, and a minute's walk will bring us to the noted spring, which is not seen until very near, as it has no wall above the surface, nor any mark by which it can be distinguished at a distance. Much has been written of the remarkable cures effected by these holy waters, and the intercession of good St. Madron. This was when Madron Well was so famous that the maimed, halt, and lame made pilgrimages from distant parts of the country to the heathy moor. The water is still resorted to on the first three Wednesdays in May by some few women of the neighbourhood, who bring children to be cured of skin diseases by being bathed in the Well water. And its old repute as a divining fount has not yet quite died out, though young folks come here now to drop pins or pebbles into the spring, more for fun and the pleasure of each other's company, than through any belief that the falling together, or seperation of pins or pebbles, will tell how the course of love will run between the parties indicated by the objects dropped into the spring ; or that the number of bubbles which rise in the water, on stamping iiear the well, mark the number of years, in answer to any question of time ; but there was not such want of faith in the virtues of this water half a century ago. A feiw weeks before the Excursion, we took a ramble through Boswarva, Bossullow, and some other ancient hamlets on the higher side of Madron, to see if we could glean anything from the old inhabitants about the rites formerly practised at the Crick-stone, Madron Well, and elsewhere. An elderly dame, who had lived the best part of her time near Lanyon, gave us the following account of the doings at the Well about fifty years ago. "At that time, when she lived in Lenine, scores of women from Morvah, Zennor, Towednack, and other places, brought their children to Madron Well to be cured of the shingles, wildfires, tetters, and various skin diseases, as well as to fortify them against witchcraft and other mysterious ailments. " An old dame, called An (aunt) Katty, who then mostly lived about in the BossuUows, or some place near, and who did little but knitting-work, picked up a good living in the spring of the year, by attending at the Well, to direct the high country folks how they were to proceed in using the waters. " First she had the child stripped as naked as it was bom ; then the creature was plunged or pojjped three times through the water against the sun ; next, the child was passed quickly nine times 116 FROM PENZANCE TO CAEN GALVA. round the spring, going from east to west, or -with the sun ; then the babe was dressed, rolled up in something warm, and laid to sleep near the water ; if the child slept and plenty of bubbles rose in the water, it was a good sign," We enquired if a prayer, charm, or anything was spoken during the operations 1 " Why, no, to be sure," the dame replied, " there ' mustn't be a word spoken all the time they are near the water, or it will spoil the spell ; and a piece rented off from some part of the clothes worn by the child or any other person using the Well, must be left near the water for good luck, ever so small a bit will do ; this is mostly placed out of sight, alongside of the stream, which runs from the Well. " Whilst one party went through the rites at the spring, all the others remained over the stile, in the higher enclosure, or by the hedge, till they came up from the water, because if a word were spoken by anyone near the well, during the dipping, they had to come again. The old woman. An Katty, was never paid in money, but balls of yarn, or anything else she wanted, were dropped on the road, outside the Well-moors, for her. This old dame also got good pickings by instructing the young girls how to try for sweethearts at the Well. " Scores of maidens " (the dame's words) " used, in the summer evenings, to come down to the Well, from ever so far, to drop into it pins, gravel, or any small thing that would sink. The names of the persons were not spoken when the objects, which represented them, were dropped into the water ; they were only thought of, and as they remained together or seperated, such would be the fate of the couple. It was only when the spring -was working (rising strongly) that it was of any use to try the spells ; it was always unlucky to .speak when near the Well at such times." Such is the substance of what the dame told us. She never heard that any saint had anything to do with the water, except from somebody who told her there was something in a book about it ; nor had she or anybody else heard the water called St. Madron's Well, except by the new gentry, who go about giving new names to the places, and think they know more about them than the people who have lived here ever since the world was created. We enquired if the people ever went to the old chapel to perform any ceremony 1 Not that she ever heard of ; Morvah folks, and others of the Northern parishes who mostly resort to the spring pay no regard to any saint or to any body else, except some old woman who may come down with them to show how everything used to be done. Wo were also informed that there is a spring in some moor in Zennor, not far from Bosporthencs, which is said to be as good as Madron Well, and that children are often taken thither and treated in the same way. OLD CUSTOMS. 117 The silent proceedings were altogether new to us, because we had often gone to other Wishing Wells with parties of young folks who always kept noise and fun enough ; yet the old dame regarded the proceedings as a very solemn matter. In answer to the questions of " What was the reason for going round the Well nine times t leaving the bits of rags 1 following the sun?" &c. ; it was always the same reply, "Such were the old customs, and everybody knew it was unlucky to go, or to' do anything, against the course of the sun ; no woman, who knew anything, would place pans of milk in the dairy, so as to have to unream them against the sun." Mad EON Chapel. By following down the brooklet from the Well, in a minute's space we came to the Chapel. In the southern wall may be noticed an opening for letting the water from the Well-brook flow into a baptistry in the South-western corner of the Chapel. Entering by a door-way, on the northern side of the Chapel, we see that this simple font appears to have been arched over, after the manner of the bee-hive huts, by one row of stones projecting over the other. The table-slab of the altar (which stUl remains at the east end) has a square pit, worked in the centre to mark the place on which an image, or the monstrance, was probably placed. There is a step to mark the division between the little nave and the sacrarium, and remains of the stone seats which were carried all round against th^ walls. A rare and beautiful little plant, the Cornish Money-wort, may be found among stones beside the Well-brook. Lanyon Quoit. We return to the highway, and continuing on the Morvah road, pass a broken cross, which once served to direct the pilgrim to the Holy Well and shrine, or to the Templar's roof A little farther on, a church-way path through fields makes a short cut across the hill ; from the road at the foot of this hill, on the Lanyon side, one gets the most striking, though not the first view of _ the Quoit. From this low ground, the mass of rock (more than eighteen feet long and nine abroad) is seen looming against the sky like a gigantic tripod. When near it, we find that its height from the ground is only from five to six feet ; yet Dr. Borlase says, that in his time it was high enough for a man to sit under it on horseback. In 1816, the cap-stone of the cromlech was thrown down by a violent storm, and a large piece of one supporting stone broken off. In 1824,afterthe Logan Rock was replaced, the powerful machinery brought into the country for that purpose, was used for raising the Quoit; and, preparatory to replacing it, the other two uprights 118 PROM PENZANCE TO CAHN GALVA. ■were sunk several feet. One may speculate on the means first employed to raise the ponderous mass, -which has been beaten by the storms of more than twice ten hundred years. Few can view " this lonely monument of times that were " without joining in the prayer of the following beautiful lines : — * * * " Let no rude hand remove, Or spoil thee ; for the spot is consecrate To thee, and thou to it ; and as the heart Aching with thoughts of human littleness Asks, without hope of knowing, whose the strength That poised thee here." It does not seem likely to be soon decided whether these weird- looking monuments on our silent hills were giants' altars, kist veans, or the tombs of giants who have left the marks of their footsteps on all our granite cairns and hills. Our mythic giants may not be altogether fabulous, and it seems beyond dispute that gigantic remains have been found under promlechs when first denuded of the barrows with which many, perhaps all, were formerly covered. Another idea, in connection with them, may be suggested by what we have farther to state. A Cornish gentleman,* who resided many years in various parts of India, and to whom we are grateful for much exact and curious information on various antiquarian subjects, informs us that he has, in many remote parts of India (where the most ancient and simple forms of Hindooism prevail), seen huge monuments of unhewn stone so like some of our cromlechs in their construction, that they always reminded him of our giants' quoits, and his distant home on the Cornish hills. He says that in the granite districts, they were precisely simular in plan to our cromlechs ; and in the slate districts the slabs were thinner and the construction more regular. In all, an opening was left on one side. Between the supporting stones and within the recesses of these rude structures sacred lamps were always kept burning. The priesthood, who attended these sacred fires, were so much opposed to Christians comuig near their sacred places, that the gentleman referred to had no means of ascertaining whether these Hindoo cromlechs were regarded as altars, tombs, or shrines. They might have been all three combined, as it has been usual, in all times, for the sacredotal hierarchy of all gloomy creeds to make the most of the bones of the dead to impress the minds of the living with awe for the unearthly mystery with .which they ever aim to invest priestly functions. At last, by the gloomy creeds and rites of these mysterious religions, they make a personification of death their deity. "We must leave it for our learned antiquaries to decide whether * Mr. W. J. Henwood. MEN-AN-TOL. 119 this huge Quoit was a giant's tomb, or anything else which was ever applied to any mortal use, except to make us feel that the ancient Cornish who could raise such ponderous masses, high enough for a man to sit under on horseback, were no despicable race. Lanyon Town Place and House. As we proceed 'on the Morvah road toward Lanyon, the rugged top of Carn Galva is seen rising over the northern hills. The first sight of this huge cam, piled up against the sky, suggests the thought that the good old giant who lived there in ancient times could not have selected a better place for his stronghold. We now approach the town-place of Lanyon, Lanion, of rather Lanine, for every one here calls the place by the latter name, as well as the family, who probably took their name from this, their ancient home. If you enquire of any person hereabouts for Lanyon, they wOl wonder where you came from, and it is not at all easy for a stranger to get any information out of our good folk by abrupt questioning, which they detest. The best way is to tell them frankly what you want. Then, they will do their utmost to gratify your wishes. So now we are here, we shall always speak of the place as Lanine, and tell a yarn to get two in return. Many fanciful meanings have been given for the name of Lanyon or Lenine ; yet there appears to be little doubt that the name is a contraction of Lanython, which is composed of Lan, an enclosure, and Ython, or Eithin, furze (the adjective comes after the noun in Cornish) ; or the name may be simply the plural form of Lan. This word Lan (often contracted into la) enters into the construc- tion of many names of ancient places, as Landithy, Lamoran, Lamorna, &c. In Wales and Brittany, names are equally common, which are formed of Llan or lan, followed by some qualifying word ; and as some of the oldest settlements or enclosures were the first places in which Churches were erected, the word Lan came to be regarded as designating the Church. In Lamorna and other similar words the n is dropped, from a natural disposition to avoid the exertion which the pronunciation of certain combinations of consonants entails on the speaker. The strongly-built dwelling- house of Lenine shows that Madron masons of the last century were good craftsmen. Note the sturdy strength of the broad chimney-stacks, which seem determined to put a hard face on all the fierce blasts they encounter in this unsheltered place. The sturdy expression of this simple building harmonises well with the bleak character of surroxmding scenery. • The Criok-stone. Another noteworthy object, on this site of ancient enclosures, is the remarkable group of three stones called by antiquaries the 120 FROM PENZANCE TO CAEN GALVA. men-an-tol, and by country folk the crick-stone, from the old custom (not yet extinct) of "craming" (crawling on all fours) round the centre stone, and of creeping through the hole in the same (when the person was thin enough) for the cure of lumbago, sciatic, and other " cricks " and pains in the back. This mysterious monument is situated in a croft to the right of the Morvah road, about half-a-mile in a northerly dii-ection from Lenine town-place. Our antiquaries are as much at variance with respect to the purpose for which this remarkable group was erected as they are about the real purpose of the cromlech. Some hold that it is a sepulchral monument, as well as the Men Scryfa (written stone) farther on, because there is a tradition that in G-endhal, or Gednhal moor, a little below, there was once a battle so great that the moor " ran with blood." Others suppose it to have been used for some druidical ceremonies similar to those not long since practised there j and by a great number it is conjectured that this mysterious monument served for the computation of time. Among those who think that the object of its erection was probably astronomical is Professor Max Miiller. This gentleman, in the Qua/rterly Review for August, 1867, after stating that the three stones are in a line bearing nearly east and west, says : — " This men-an-tol may be an old dial, erected originally to fix the proper time for the celebration of the autumnal equinox, and, though it may have been applied to other purposes likewise, such as the curing of children by dragging them several times through the hole, still its original intention may have been astronomical." In another place, after speaking of the Min-heers, or long stones (which, being mostly found in pairs bearing nearly east and west, he thinks served the same purpose), he continues : — " If their astronomical character could once be firmly established, it might even be possible, at least approximately, to fix the time of their erection. If we suppose that the shadow of the stones on each side of the men-an-tol was intended to fall through the hole on the day of the autumnal equinox, then, if there is any slight • deviation at present, and that deviation in the direction demanded by the precession of the equinoctial, points of difference might be calculated, and translated into years, and we should thiis be enabled to fix, at least with a margin of a century or two, the time when that time piece was first set up on the high plains of Cornwall." In concluding his notice of the Holed-stone of Lanine, he says : — " A mere shepherd, though he had never heard the name of astronomy, might have erected such a stone for his own convenience, in order to know the time when he might safely bring his flocks out, or take them back to their safer stables. But this would in no way diminish the interest of the men-an-tol. It would still ON GOON-MEN-SCRYFA. 121 remain one of the few relics of the childhood of our race ; one of the witnesses of the earliest workings of the human mind in its struggle against, and in its alliance with, the powers of nature ; one of the vestiges in the first civilization of the British Isles." Less than half-a-mile over the downs, in a northerly direction, brings us to the Men Sceyfa (written stone.) The safest plan for a stranger to take, in order to find this interesting monument, is to return to, and proceed on, the Morvah road until nearly opposite BosuUow, where a path will be found, on the right hand, leading to this ancient inscribed pillar, which is one of the most important monuments in the west country, if not in the kingdom. One side of the stone will be found inscribed with the words Eialobran-Cunoval Fil, signifying that Rialobran, the son of Ounoval, was here buried. The tradition of the country folks says that a king slain in the battle of Gendhal moor, was buried here with all his arms and treasures ; and that the king stood nine feet high, which was found to be the length of this pillar monument, when about half a century ago an old curmudgeon of the neighbourhood upset the tombstone of Rialobran, the sou of Cunoval, in searching for the crock of gold, which he, in common with many others, believed to be buried there. It is not known whether he found any treasures by his digging, but he caused the stone to fall face downward, in which position it remained, little heeded, until 1862, when it was replaced by the Antiquarian Society over the warrior's grave. A large tract of ground covered with furze and heath, surround- ing this monument, used to be called " Goon-men-scryf a " (inscribed stone downs.) The Four Parishes. At a short distance to the northward of Men-scryfa, there is a large flat stone, with a cross cut on it, to show that the four parishes of Madron, Gulval, Morvah, and Zennor meet there. There is a tradition that some Saxon tings dined on this stone in days of yore. According to another tradition, when Prince Arthur and four British kings were On their way to drive the Danes from Pen with, they rested on this rock. Then, on their way down along towards the Land's End, Prince Arthur and the four kings collected the native Cornish, who fought the Danes, and under guidance of the royal personages, conquered them, ill the battle of Vellan-drucchar (wheel-mill) moor ; where the Danes were nearly all killed, and so great was the slaughter, that "the mill was worked with blood," so old folk said. 122 FROM PENZANCE TO CARN GALVA. From Goon-men-scryfa, tte bold and curious pile of Gam Galva (goats' earn) is a very striking object in the view, standing out as it does near the sea, and six hundred feet or more above the sea level. From Men-scryfa, we take a northerly course, over the downs, to Cam Galva. One can't fail to pass a pleasant time, should the weather be fine, among the rocks and glades of Cam Galva. Above all, if we ramble hither through the ferns, heath, and furze, in the whortle- berry season, we may pick the rich fruit, roll in the shade, or bask in the sun, on the beautiful green patches of turf, as soft as velvet, to be found everywhere ; or one may ramble in and out, and all around, playing hide-and-seek, through the crellas between the earns, whence the good old Giant of the Cam often sallied forth to protect his Morvah and Zennor people and their cattle against the incursions of the giants of other cams and hills. Those of Trink and Trecrobben vrere the most troublesome, because they lived near in castles strong and high. Now they say that when the Trecrobben giant once got the cattle, or tin, into his stronghold, he would defy all other giants in the country. By the traditions, still preserved in Morvah and its neighbourhood, The Giant of Cakn Galva was more playful than warlike. Though the old works of the giant now stand desolate, we may still see, or get up and rock ourselves upon, the logan-stone which this dear old giant placed on the most westerly cam of the range, that he might log himself to sleep when he saw the sun dip into the waves and sea-birds fly to their homes in the cleeves. Near the giant's rocking-seat, one may still see a pile of cubical rocks, which are almost as regular and shapely now as when the giant used to amuse himself in building them up, and kicking them down again, for exercise or play, when alone and he had nothing else to do. People of the northern hills have always had a loving regard for the memory of this giant, because he appears to have passed all his life at the earn in single blessedness, merely to protect his beloved people of Morvah and Zennor from the depredations of the less honest Titans who then dwelt on Lelant hills. Carn Galva giant never killed but one of the Morvah peoisle in his life, and that happened all through loving play. i'he giant was very fond of a fine young fellow, of Choone, who used to take a turn over to the Carn, every now and then, just to see how the old giant was getting on, to cheer him up a bit, play a game of bob, or anything else to help him pass his lonely time away. One afternoon the giant was so well pleased with the good play they had together, that when the young fellow of Choone DEATH OF THE GIANT'S PLAYMATE. 123 threw down his quoit to go away home, the giant, in a good-natured ■way, tapped his playfellow on the head with the tips of his fingers. At the same time he said, " Be sure to come again to-morrow, my son, and we will have a capital game of bob." Before the word " bob " was well out of the giant's mouth, the young man dropped at his feet. The giant's fingers had gone right through his play- mate's skull. "When, at last, the giant became sensible of the damage . he had done to the young man's brain-pan, he did his best to put the inside workings of his mate's head to rights and plugged up his finger-holes, but all to no purpose ; for the young man was stone dead and cold, long before he ceased doctoring his head. When the poor giant found it was all over with his playmate, he took the body in his arms, and, sitting down on a large square rock at the foot of the earn, he rocked himself to and fro ; pressing the lifeless body to his bosom, he wailed and moaned over him, bellowing and crjing louder than the booming billows breaking on the rocks in Permoina. " Oh, my son, my son, why didn't they make the shell of thy noddle stronger 1 A es as plum (soft) as a pie-crust, dough-baked, and made too thin by the half ! How shall I ever pass my time without thee to play bob and mop-and-heede ■? (hide-and-seek.)" The Giant of Oarn Galva never rejoiced any more, but, in seven years or so, he pined away and died of a broken heart. So Zennor people say, and that one may judge of the size of their giant very well, as he placed his logan-rock at such a height that, when seated on it, to rock himself, he could rest his feet comfortably on the green turf below. Some say that he gathered together the heap of square blocks, near his favourite resting-place, that he might have them at hand to defend his people against the giants of Trecrobben and Trink, with whom he fought many a hard battle. Yet when they were all on good terms they would pass weeks on a stretch in playing together, and the quoits which served them to play bob, as well as the rocks they hurled at each other when vexed, may still be seen scattered all over this hilly region. Surely a grateful remembrance of this respectable giant will ever be preserved by the descendants of those he protected in the northern hills. We have often heard the high country folks relate this legend of their giant in a much more oii'cumstantial manner than we can attempt, because we do not, like the good Morvah folk, give impKcit credence to all the traditions of Oarn Galva. Yet this romantic region makes us feel that " Surely there is a hidden power that reigns Mid the lone majesty of untamed nature, ControUing sober reason." 124 PBOM PENZANCE TO CARN GALVA. DiNG-DoNG, Wheal Malkin, and Pusser Hosking's Moils. On our return from Carn Galva -we may visit Ding-Dong. The works of Ding-Dong both " at grass " and under ground, are very near our road to Cam Galva, and much of the foimer visible nearly all the way from Men-scryfa. It is one of the most ancient and extensive mines in the County. There are traditions (if not more trustworthy records) that part of this old bal, called by a somewhat similar name (Din-an-doyng, if I remember rightly), and other ancient workings known as Wheal Malkin, which are now united to Ding-Dong, were wrought by the Jews in the time of King John. Little more than half a century ago. Wheal Malkin portion of this I'ich old mine was solely in the hands of four or five adventurers. All of them, Isut one, held large shares in Ding- Dong. They wished the two speculations to be united, as they might, it was thought, be thiia worked to greater advantage. But Mr. Hosking, of Lanyon, the only one of the owners of Wheal Malkin who had no share in Ding-Dong, being averse to this arrangement, his co-adventurers proposed that he should either sell his share, or buy theirs. Mr. Hosking became the purchaser of the whole of Wheal Malkin. Some say that a device, sometimes resorted to in similar transactions, was put in practice by a working miner, to induce him to close with the dear bargain. However that may have been, it is well known that he continued to work this property more to benefit the public than himself. This worthy gentleman was generally known as Captain Hosking, from having been for many years captain of the Mount's Bay Yeomanry Cavalry, or the Guides, as they were often styled, but his most popular designation in the part we are now rambling over was the Pusser (purser) Hosking ; and this latter title seems likely to be long preserved, as well as some remembrance of the " Pusser's " moils, in one of our odd every-day sayings. After Mr. Hosking built the sturdy-looking house we still see in Lenine, he resided there for some years, and held the farm in hand. For the purpose of taking his tin to smelting house, the captain, kept a great number of mules (here called moils) on the extensive furze-grounds of Lanyon. Some of the tinners, in passing over the downs, to and from their work, often tried to get a ride on the " Pusser's moils " and others, for fun's sake or out of pure wantonness, took great jjleasure in tormenting these sedate-lookiag animals ; but the Pusser's moils, to show how they disapproved of practical joking, often imprinted the marks of their hoofs and teeth on theii' tormentors ; and, at last, they, one and all, took to give chase to every person who ventured on their ground, except, indeed, the boys who brought them out straw or hay, now and " WAANT BEAR JESTAN." 125 then, in winter, and their well-known driver, Mr. Hosking's Ealfey, who was as fond of the moils, and they of him, as if they had been brothers. If one only pointed a finger, in derision, at these testy animaLs, and called them by their names, in a tone which they didn't like, when they were filing along the lanes with sacks of tin on their backs, they would at once leave their ranks and show fight in spite of all Kalfey could do to soothe them. From these mulish traits of inordinate self-esteem and combativeness in Mr. Hosking'.s cattle originated the common saying, often applied to a teasy person, " He's like Pusser Hosking's moUs — waant bear jestan." Near Ding-Dong there are some ancient barrows, and the remains of what is supposed to have been a Druidic circle called the Nine Maidens. THE PENZANCE OF OUR GRANDFATHERS. THE OLD MARKET-HOUSE AND ITS SURKOUNDINGS— BATTLE OF ARCHITECTURAL STYLES-THE SELF-TAUGHT ARCHITECT OF THE LAND'S END— BUSTLE OF A MARKET DAY— MADAM TREZILLLiN'S HBAD-DEESS— THE ANCIENT FISH-WOMEN OF PENZANCE— NEW MANSIONS IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD -THE SCHOOLDAYS AND HOME OF PELLBW— THE WESTERN APPROACH TO PENZANCE (ALVERTON LANE)-PARSON SPRY, THE CURATE OF SENNEN AND ST. LEVAN, HALF-A-CBNTURY AGO, AND HIS WOODEN HORSE AND DOG "SPORT "-"SPORT'S" BEHAVIOUR AT CHURCH AND IN CHUECHYARD-THE REV, JAMES BEVAN-COUNTRY CLERKS AND COUNTRY CHOIRS— OLD CHRISTMAS CAROLS— ANCIENT MODE OF CONDUCTING FUNERALS-FORMER MEANS OF INFORMATION AMONG THE PEOPLE— ASTROLOGERS OF THE WEST -CONJURORS AND THEIR SPELLS-OLD JUSTICE JONES AND CHEAP LABOQK -THE VINGOES OF TREVILLE-THE JUSTICE'S PUNISHMENT- PELLEW AND HIS CORNISH CREW-THE ANCIENT GAMES" OF HURLING AND WRESTLING- OLD METHODS OF CONVEYANCE- BIDING PILLION- POPULAR SONGS OF THE TIME, MALBROOK, AND SENTIMENTAL DITTIES— GREEN LANES- AND FOOTPATHS- PACK- SADDLES, OX-BUTTS, AND THE FIRST CARRIAGE-GOING TO TOWN ON MARKET-DAY— PENZANCE IN THE EARLY PART OF THIS CENTURY, do.— Written September, 1867. Dim, dream-like forms ! Your shadowy train Around me gathers once again, The same as in life's morning hour. Before my troubled gaze you pass'd : Oh ! this time shall I have the power — Shall I essay to hold you fast ? — GoetJie's Faust, Filmore's Translation, The Old Maeket-House, and its Surkoundings. ffilKi^HE completion of Penzance Public Buildings forms an ffiS|^ epoch in the history of the place, and an elderly person cannot help contrasting the present appearance of the town with what it was three score years, or a century, ago ; as we know it to have been from well-remembered vestiges of the old time, and from the accounts of our grandparents, who, if they revisited the glimpses of the gaslight in our town at the present time would baimuch surprised, and not over well pleased, at all the changes which have taken place duiing the last hundred years, many of OLD BUILDINGS. 127 wHch. are alterations without improvement, nay often wanton destruction of what can never be restored, however regretted. Who that remembers the picturesque and interesting old market- house, with the corresponding buildings surrounding or near it, such as the house in which Sir Humphry Davy was born, the cosy nook under the balcony of the 'Star' Inn, where often of an evening he held his youthful comrades spellbound by the wonderful stories that his poetical imagination inspired, can help regretting removal and loss ? I can't understand, nor can many others, what was the inducement to remove the old balcony from this inn, and other houses throughout the town. They were no obstructicm to the footpath, and the very aspect of these appropriate, cosy-looking entrances to the old inns infused a feeling of comfort and seclusion that one misses very much in the glaring lantern-like modern hotels. Besides, as an interesting memorial of our most illustrious townsman, it is ten thousand pities it should have been destroyed. The picturesque scene is gone, never td be restored, which was formed by the projecting balcony, with its rustic pillars and casemeuted lights, combined with the high gables, mullioned and labled windows, with the penthouse-like projections of the old market-house. It is much to be regretted that, when the old building was taken down, its site should have been occupied by any structure more massive than an elegant monument to Sir Humphry Davy — suppose it had been a fountain, of an antique Gothic pattern, surmounted by the statue of Sir Humphry, with niches in the basement for memorials of other celebrities connected with the town, or its vicinity, as Pellew, Davies Gilbert, (fee, &c. The first mistake was to build on the site at all ; the second to adopt the Italian style for a building to be erected in such a confined space. It must be apparent to anyone who has studied the matter that the Gothic or old English style, with its acute gables, pinnacles, pendants, balconies, oriels, and other projecting appendages for use or ornament, which that style admits, is felt to be more suitable to a confined space, because any imitation of the classical styles is very unsatisfactory, unless it has suflB.cienL breadth and massiveness to produce the impression of grandeur, as well as just proportion, which cannot be appreciated, however just it may be, unless there is suflicient space aroufiid to allow the spectator the choice of a station from which the whole facade of the building may be taken into the view. In the old English, on the contrary, one does not look for breadth, massiveness, and correspondence in the various portions of the structure, but rather to that lightness and variety which is even more interesting when seen only in such broken portions, and from such points of sight as would spoil the efi'ect of the regular styles. Besides, perhaps from being accustomed to meet with the picturesque old style in ancient 128 THR PENZANCE OP OUR GRANDFATHERS. ■walled towns, wbere the streets are always narrow, it never seems out of place in a confined space, if the surrounding buildings are of a simple or corresponding style, or at least are not such as to produce a violent contrast. Any small building, designed after classical examples, looks naked and poor, and particularly mean, imless the building- materials are of the best description and finish, and is quite unsuitable for the houses of a narrow street, which must necessarily be small and irregular, where the frontages range only from about 20 to 40 feet, and where the adjoining houses belong to different proprietors, who delight to display their independence of each other and common sense, by each one building on his 20 or 30 feet frontage according to his own caprice, and desire to show off his own originality of conception. The Battle of Architectural Styles. If our beautiful old English style (which is the most suitable for the climate and everything else) cannot be again restored, the next best is the Venetian, which may be defined as the Saracenic (or what the French call the Grec-Arab) engrafted on the Italian. The Venetian, Uke our old English (or domestic Gothic, if you will), admits of great irregularity, and of great variety in the ornamentation. French architects have shown their apprecia- tion of the peculiar suitableness of this variety for irregular and comparatively narrow streets, from their having adopted it in many of the old narrow streets abutting on the Seine, as may have been noted by some of our townsmen, who have recently visited the Exhibition and the gay capital generally. The Self-Taught Architect of the Land's End, As pretty fair examples of the adaptability of the old English to all the exigencies of modern comfort and refinement, and to prove that one may do whatever one likes with this pliable style, we have the Abbey, the Marine Retreat, some small cottages in Back Lane, also two or three pairs of semi-detached cottages near the Catholic Church. There are also some caricatures and abominable shams about, which throw discredit on the style. As interesting looking, therefore pleasing, villa residences we have Pendrea and Trewidden. Farther afield, there is an excellent example of picturesque simplicity and variety in the parsonage-house near Halsetown. This house is well worth the study of builders for its convenient arrangement on a square plan, for the variety of pleasing forms in the doorways, windows, and well-proportioned chimney-stacks and gables, as well as the ornamental slate-work with which some of its gables are dressed, as being more durable than ordinary barge-boards, which soon decay, whereas the slate THE BTJSTLE OF A MARKET DAT. 129 is everlasting. Nothing can form more pictiiresque groupings than this parsonage, and its church of corres250nding style. As another example to show how our old English seems at home, and at its ease everywhere, observe how well the addition made to the " First and Last," becomes its site. This portion of the ancient inn at Sennen, and the cottages in Back Lane, Penzance, were designed by a self-taught architect, born and bred in Sennen, Mr. Charles Hutcheus, who resided many years at Torpoint, constructed many buildings in Devonport, in the Three Towns genei'ally, and in other parts of the country, of which any architect might be proud. The nephew of this gentleman, Mr. Thomas Hutchens, of Sennen, is now Mr. Gilbert Scott's right-hand man ; and, like his master, his whole heart and soul is devoted to Gothic architecture. In the opinion of many persons of taste, the quaint old market house — low, irregular, and devoid of all pretentions to ornament — when surrounded by houses of as simple a mode, was a more pleasing object than the present insipid, silly-looking structure, which, when first seen from Market-jew-street, looks like. a heavy wall to support a portico and dome to which there is no body of building. A grand entrance, to which one cannot see the means of access, and which apparently leads to nothing. This end is the more faulty, because the most pretentious. The old French chateau style, with its steep pitched roofs, turrets, galleries, "balconies, &c. , (of which we have a fair example in the Queen's Hotel) is far better adapted for a private residence in our wet and windy climate than the naked, cold-looking Italian, with its flat, low-pitched roof, ashamed to be seen, and such other appurtenances as are only suitable for a temple, or other large public building, in a sunny clime. The Bustle of a Market Day. We cannot think of the old market-house without remembering the animated scene around it of a market day. On the higher side, at the corn-market steps, opposite the 'Golden Lion,' the jolly farmers and their buxom wives would be seen arriving, seated each on two or more sacks of grain, with a basket of butter. and eggs on the dame's arm, and probably a basket of poultry on that of her lord. The crowing, squalling, laughing, and scolding, showed a sound heart and lungs, and that the old folks were neither ashamed nor afraid to be seen to do their own work ; and the appetizing steam which ascended through the open kitchen window of the cozy hostel, at the foot of the stairs, told them, as the screechiug, hard-labouring, roasting-jack, as plainly as jack could speak, that plenty of good substantial fare would soon be ready for their equally substantial appetites. There is no mista,ke about it; there was less nonsense about people then than now. I 130 THE PENZANCE OF OUR GEANDFATHEES. At that time the ladies of squires, merchants, and farmers, did their own marketing, aye and often such dames as Mesdames Noye, Trezillian, Ustiok, Pender, in the west country, and others of equal rank in town, would ride to mill on sacks of corn and bolt the meal themselves. The sturdy butchers — to be seen in the meat market then — were mostly occupiers of land near the town, and cultivated many of the farms of Madron. The crooks with which the transverse bars (between the stalls and overhead in all parts of the house) were armed, sometimes caught in the ladies' towering head-dresses. Madam Trezillian's Head-Dress. There is a story told of a gay Madam Trezillian, of Raftra, who outdid all other ladies in the west country in the breadth of her hoops and the height of her tete, as the tower of cushions, ribbons, lace, and hair was called with which the heads of the dames were surmounted. Against one St. Levan feast a barber was had out from Penzance to dress the lady's head-piece in the most approved mode of the town. It must be understood that when the heads of these ancient belles were put en grande toilette they were not taken down at night, often for weeks together. That these monstrous head-pieces might not be deranged, the bedsteads were made a foot or two longer than the ordinary affair of the present day. During the feasten week, having company to entertain all the time, madam's tete of course was not disturbed, nor for a week or two after, when she jwas engaged in visiting, unto, she felt such a head-ache that she was obliged to send for Dr. Maddron, from St. Just, that he might see what ailed her noddle. Still the precious mass of wool, pomatum, &c., remained undisturbed on the outside, when the doctor arrived, and insisted on having it taken down and opened. Then they say that he found a nest of mice had been littered in the greasy pads which raised the lady's hair, besides any quantity of fly-blows in their different stages of growth. No doubt, the old mother mouse came every night to nurse her interesting tender brood of young ones. Madam's head was in such a state that she was obliged to have it shaved. The hair was carefully saved and made up into a false head-dress (one could hardly call it a wig) against Madron-tide, when she came to pass the feast with Squire Daniel at Alverton. The feasten eve, in walking through the market house with Madam Daniel, the bows of her towering tete caught on the crooks. Still, on she walked the whole length of the market, when she discovered her loss by the uproar of laughter with which the lady's bald pate and her svispended head-dress were greeted by the butchers and their boys, and by their wives as well. PELLEW. 131 The Ancient Fish- Women op Penzance. One can't take leave of the old market withovit some notice of tlie handsome fisherwomen, in their picturesque old costume of short scarlet cloaks and broad felt hats, which well became their coal-black eyes and hair, and heightened the oriental cast of their countenances. Then their tongues, loud and musical, haUing every one who jjassed the street : — " Wount e buy some nice fresh fish to-day, my dear ? " " Cheeld vean ; why you shall have en for nothan ; do come here ! " As well as their chaffing and slack jaw at each other and all the world besides. Above all, the shoemakers, who kept their stalls near by, came in for a good share of their gibes. People had a heart to laugh then, and were all the better friends even for a little rough talk, before so much organised hypocrisy, whining cant, and morbid feeling became the fashion, which seems, if possible, to be increasing in intensity and stupidity in Penzance. The buildings surrounding the Market Place, Green-Market, and many other parts of the town, were mongreHzed about the time of tlie erection of the new structure by taking the mullions out of the windows of many houses, lowering the pitch of their roofs, erecting useless unmeaning parapets, covering walls of dressed granite and ornamental slate work with plaster and other shams, until the surrounding buildings were changed into worse- looking objects if possible than the centre piece. A specimen of the true appreciation of just proportion which seems to have been intuitive with old masons may yet be seen in the dressed chimney- stacks, with embattled mouldings, belonging to an old house at the north-western corner of the market-place. In the premises, more examples of the old style will be found. When this old house was first built, it was said to have been th^ grandest mansion in Buriton, as a good part of what is now included with old Penzance was then named, — all around the Market Place. The School-Days and Home op Pellew. Near the Alverton entrance to Fox's gardens is an old thatched cottage * which ought to have been regarded with much interest, as it was the home of Pellew (Admiral Lord Exmouth) during his boyish days. Here he lived with his aged grandmother. Madam Woodhouse, nntil he left to commence his career of usefulness and glory that added much to the renown of the British nation. I have heard many anecdotes of the hero's boyish days from an old lady of the West Country (the daughter of a gentleman farmer of Sennen) who, when a girl in her teens, was sent to Penzance * Before this old building was demolished, a few months since, it was photographed by Mr. K H. Preston. 132 THE PENZANCE OF OUE GRAND FATHfeES. to reside witli - her uncle' and aunt, that she might attend a better school than was to be found in the West Country. At that time boys and girls often went to the same school until they were mxich older than it would be considered decorous for them to remain together in these thin-skinned, fastidious times. Young Pellew went to the same school as the girl from the Land's End, who, being two or three years older than the boy, called for him at his grandmother's house ; but the country girl always had a hard task to get him to school, and often, in spite of all she could do, and threats of the old lady's cane, young Pellew would take off to the Quay, whither the girl had to follow, as, if she was known to have let him escape, she would get a sound thrashing from her own aunt, who was a great friend of the boy's grandmother and paid the same attention to the boy Edward Pellew as to her own children. As soon as the boy reached the pier he would spring into the first boat he found afloat, cast off the painter, and away to sea, without staying to notice if there were oars in the boat or not. His companion and guardian in petticoats would remain on the Battery rocks, or pier, with her knitting or needle-work, that she^ might signal to Pellew when it was time for him to come in, to return home to dinner. Often the fishermen and sailors at the Quay, who all loved the daring boy and kept a watch over him, would go out in another boat and help him to come ashore in time to save his bacon. Sometimes one or both of the old ladies would find out the truants, come to the Quay after them, and beat them both home to Alverton lane, where Pellew would take refuge with old Mr. Boase, who always took the boy's part, as well as that of his niece (the west country girl) in spite of all the old ladies and the schoolmaster might say.- 'To make amends for the beatings the Sennen girl got for letting Edward Pellew escape from school (which she liked to do very well herself noM' and then) and for doing his sums for him (whilst he occupied himself in making boats and ship's gearing under the desk), he would often drive her uncle's cows from the Weeths (the ground that is now Mr. Bolitho's lawn) down to Alverton to water, or bring them home to their yard in Alverton lane — the site of which was near where our worthy Mayor's (Mr. Francis Boase) garden now stands — to be milked of an evening. As he was soon taught to be a famous boxer by his friends the sailors of the Quay, who would always have him with them if they, could, he wanted to put his science in practice by thrashing any boy double his size, if they happened to offend his protectress, who, when fourscore years of age, has often shown me a lot of trifles Pellew sent home to his grandmother for his old school-mate ; PARSON SPEY AND HIS WOODEN HORSE. 133 among other things a variety of perforated foreign coins,, such as sailors like to suspend from their watch chains, a pair of ladies' silver shoe-buckles, &c. When Pellew went to sea the old lady, his grandmother, used often to say, " If I could hut live to see my Teddy made a captain I would die contented." The old lady lived long enough to see him knighted, and I think made an Admiral, before she died. How Sir Edward Pellew would have none, or few, but Cornish men for his crew ; how the Mount's Bay and St. Just men would volunteer for him, when the press gang (who wanted men, and the devil a man could they get for other ships but his) were beaten out of Mousehole by the women, led on by Ann St. Doyd (Ann's right name was Pentreath), armed with a red-hot poker, is. well known. As every incident of his life, after he went to sea, became matter of history, we cannot claim any more of it as belonging exclusively to Penzance. The Western Approach to Penzance (Alverton Lane.) From the house in which Admiral Lord Exmouth passed his boyish days there was a pleasant footpath, long after that time, through the fields to Alverton, seperated from the lane by a high hedge^ and shady trees ; and the lane itself, from the Ellises' Mansion (or the site of the Western hotel) to the seat of the -Daniels, in Alverton (or probably the Jenkin's at that time), was like a bower all the way, with the overhanging trees, except a good strip of green extending from Mr. F. Boase's house down almost to the pathway leading to Alverton well. On this green the fair was formerly held. It has but recently been removed to a field. All the highroads at this time were pleasant green lanes. There was no such thing as a cart West of Penzance. Here and there an ox- butt might be found. We will return to the green lanes, and those who jogged along them on bow-pad or pillion, when we come to take a retrospective view of the country. Parson Spry, the Curate of Sennen and St. Levan, Half A Century Ago, and His Wooden Horse AND Dog " Sport." Before leaving this part of the town, let us cast a glance at the three or four little cottage-like dwellings just opposite the lane leading to the Well fields, on the higher side of the entrance to The Hollies. These cottages were regarded as very genteel residences, half a century ago, before the North Parade and some score of other terraces, which now form the most pleasant poi-tions of the town, were ever born or thought of. Then, the cottage nearest to The Hollies' gate was the residence of the Kev. William Spry many years curate of Sennen and St. Levan. The reverend 134 THE PENZANCE OP OUE GRANDFATHERS. gentleman was one of those eccentric, or independent, characters ■who pay no regard either to conventional modes or to the opinion of those who have no need to trouble themselves about- their harmless whims. His dapper little figure, dressed up in the most anti-clerical, not to say ridiculous, of costumes, must still be well remembered by many in town and country. Notwithstanding his eccentric vagaries, he was always a welcome guest, for the sake of 'his neverrfailing good humour, quick repartee, and the droll stories of which he was generally the hero. His most extravagant freaks were mostly harmless, and always amusing, at least to the spectators (yet with all the care taken to qualify his characteristics, we may have to make some exceptions when the parson mounts his wooden horse.) When in the reading-room, public library, or any other place of resort for gentlemen of the town, the parson was always the centre of attraction and fun. One day, in the library, Mr. Spry was, as usual, relating some of his amusing drolls, when an elderly gent. Gen. Tench (who very much liked to hear himself talk), finding that he could not have the chance to get in a word edgeways even, interrupted the parson by saying " Come, Mr. Spry, as you appear to know a great deal about everything, be pleased to explain the difference between a major canon and a minor canon?" "Pho! pho !" replied Mr. Spry, in his lisping accent, " what a general ! not to know the difference between a major cannon and a minor cannon. Why a major cannon is a great gun, and a minor cannon is a thun (son) of a cun (gun), to be thure (sure.)" The general wheeled on his heels, and went away without firing any more of his guns at the parson for that day._ The reverend gentleman, finding the hire of a horse to take him to the scene of his clerical duties more than he could well afford out of his slender income, took it into his head to have a velocipede, hoj)ing, with the assistance of the machine, to be able to ride out to the Land's End at his ease, hills excepted, when be would have to drag his horse. He first exercised his wooden horse, by way of breaking it in, on the descent from St. Just lane's end to Alverton. He was very proud of his horse, when he found it would run down the hill with so much speed. The next market day, early in the morning, the parson stationed himself, mounted on his horse, on the top of T'ul-tuf hill, to challenge anybody coming from, or going to the market, to try a race, always down the hUl be it understood. Plenty of the farmers desired no better fun than to try a race with the parson on his wooden horse ; but their own nags, not knowing what to make of the parson's queer beast, going like the wind on three legs, in their fears and doubts about the nature of the thing threw their riders in the ditch, and sprung over the hedges, that they might not be overtaken by what PARSON SPRY. 135 they must have thought a most unnatural-looking afikir. So the parson won the wager, and boasted long and loud that his horse was the best in the West ; but in the last race that Thursday morn, the three-legged Bucephalus attained such velocity in descending the hill near Alverton that it became quite unmanageable and fairly ran away with its gallant rider as fast as its wheels could spin. When it came to Alverton water (there was no bridge over the water which then worked the old factory) several market women were on their nags, in the midst of the pooled-up water, to let their horses drink and breathe awhile. Whilst their heavy baskets of butter and eggs rested carelessly on their knees to give rest to their weary arms whilst having a chat, in dashed the parson, on his horse, in the very midst of them. He tumbled over in the watei-, with the machine between his legs. All the women were thrown off their horses, which galloped away — some home, some like mad into the town to their accustomed yards and stables, others ran they did'nt know where ; but fancy what a wreck was there, with the broken eggs, barm-jars, butter, and baskets on the road, or floating down the streaili ! The women were so exasperated that they half-killed the parson between them. In the heat of their passion they pelted him with butter and eggs, then rolled him in the mud, until luckily some gentlemen came to the rescue of the parson and his steed. The next Sunday the reverend gentleman being unable to attend to his duties at the Land's End, his parishioners, as well as most of the people of the West, who had congregated at St. Levan church and along the roads, hoping to see the parson racing his horse, were much disappointed. The fame of his Thursday's adventure had spread far and near, so that such a gathering was never seen before in the church except at the feasten tide. Against the following Sunday the parson had sufiioiently recovered his broken skin and his courage to be off early in the morning, for fear of disappointing his congregation again. The people waited long about the cliff and Eospletha hill, looking out in vain ; at last, fearing some accident had happened, from seeing neither sight nor sign of their pastoi', a good number of them proceeded along the road towards Penzance, two miles or more, when they saw the parson's well-known dog. Sport, coming towards them. Sport testified his joy at seeing some of his friends, and ran back, yelping and barking, and looking behind him to beg the people to follow him fast. In a few minutes, on turning the corner of Cotneywilley, they found the parson and his horse in a deep pool of mud at the bottom of the hill, or rather the runaway steed was deep in the muddy hole. The rider had contrived to scramble out and shake himself just as they arrived. Old Mr. Ellis, of Trendrennen, being among the people who came to the relief of their forlorn pastor, he was helped along to that 136 _ THE PENZANCE OF OUR GRANDFATHERS. old gentleman's house, which the parson usually made his resting- place. Mr. Spry never trusted his wooden horse to make such long journeys any more, and people of the two western parishes, who liked their parson very much, because he was very sociable, never wearied them with tiresome platitudes, nor bothered them with what some call deep (that is inexplicable) dogmas and notions, were very indulgent, and never complained whether he came early or late, or stayed away for weeks together on account of bad weather. "Sport's"' Behaviour at Ohurch and in Churchyard. The doings of the parson's handsome black dog Sport added much to the interest of the Sunday's performances. Sport seemed to think that some dogs belonging to his master's parishes had not so much right to enjoy church privileges as himself. To others — larger dogs than himself — he was more indulgent, and even con- descended to wag his tail at them, but woe to any audacious dog of a smaller size, or a shorter tail, that presumed to ventuj'e into the more respectable or parson's portion of the church East of the rud locks (rood loft.) Sport would then show the rustic dogs the colour of his teeth and drive them into the belfry, where the other country dogs would follow to see' fair play, or perhaps to give the town-bred puppy a bite by the sly, if they saw their own comrade likely to get the worst of the game. One Sunday, a dog belonging to a farmer who sat near the chancel, seemed inclined to come nearer the parson's ground than he liked. Both dogs then said as plain as looks could express, "Come then, to decide which shall look the biggest; let's try our right, down in the belfry, by a quiet bit of a fight." Off walked the two dogs, began and continued their fight without making much noise, until the parson was in the midst of reading the second lesson. Then Spoi"t gave some dreadful yells, which so much alarmed his master, that he stopped reading, bundled up his sur- plice under his arm, ran in all haste down to the belfry, drove out the country dog, and shut in his own by way of penance among the shovels, brooms, jDickaxes, bell-ropes, planks, and other lumber. When the parson returned to the reading-desk, he leaned over towards the old clerk, and asked " Where was I, Josey 1" meaning the verse of the lesson at which he left off. Uncle Josey, the clerk, being rather deaf, like most deaf peojjle spoke rather loud — loud enough to be heard all over the church — when he intended only to whisper " Where war e ? What do e mean, master 1 Why down in the belfry, parting the dogs to be sure ! " Sport took it in high dudgeon, to be imprisoned like a felon. When he found barking and howling of no use towards procuring his release from durance THE EEV. JAMES BEVAN. 137 vile, he contrived to entangle himself in the bell-rope (left dangling \ip and down) by getting his head into the running noose, made by the sexton for his foot, to assist in tolling the great bell, which Sport set a ringing and soon rung himself out. Another day, whilst the parson was reading the burial service over the defunct, his dog Sport behaved himself in a very unseemly manner, for such a solemn occasion, by -kicking up a dust among the dry-bones, howling at the mourners, catching their dresses in his mouth, and renting off yards of the deepest affliction or crape from the young widow, and other such like pranks. The parson, reading, with one eye on the book, the other on his dog, at the end of every portion where the clerk had to respond Amen, called " Sport ! " and Sport replied with a bark. At the conclusion, in the same breath wdth the words, " Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, I commit this body to the ground," the parson called out louder than ever " Sport ! Spoi-t ! Come here ; " turning quickly round at the same time as if to catch the dog and bury him. There is much more told by good folks of the two most western parishes about the freaks of this reverend gentleman who had the cure of their souls half a century ago ; but enough has been related to give some idea of the greater simplicity of those times, when there certainly was not the same sourness, and disposition to magnify faults and failings into mortal sins, as there is now by the rampant religionists, who display their ferocious virtue pi-incipally by circulating slander, under the guise of pity for those who do not choose to adopt their morbid notions, whining cant, and grimace. A short time after the velocipede adventure, Mr. Spry removed hence to Morwelham, and soon became as well known on the Tamar as here, for his eccentric freaks. The Rev. James Bevan. :,; A little more than sixty years ago, the Rev. James Bevan, of Glamorganshire, died at St. Levan. This gentleman lived amongst his parishioners, and served as curate in the two western parishes, nearly half a century. Old folks of the West always speak with great respect of this venerable clergyman and his family, who were regarded by the people with as much affection as if they had been their near relatives. A handsome tablet has recently been erected to the memory of this gentleman in St. Levan church, as also one to Miss Thomazine Dennis. This lady was born at Sawah, and noted for her literary and scientific acquirements, which were the more notable in one brought up in that remote part of the world. "We hope these memorials, and many other objects of interest in the remarkable old church, will long remain 138 THE PENZANCE OF OUE GEANDPATHEES. undisturbed in spite of the contemplated destruction of one of the most interesting monuments of ecclesiastical architecture to be found in the county, and which is hallowed by traditions dear to the people who properly belong to the place. CouNTEY Clerks and Country Ohoirs. In conjunction with the good parsons, we have a pleasing remembrance of the respectable, unaffected old clerks, to be found in most of the country churches half a century ago. In general, the clerks were small farmers sufficiently well educated to be able to read the Bible and church service fluently (occasionally passing over hard words) ; but, from their having no other books to read in country schools than the universal spelling-book, psalter, and Bible, they were incapable of understanding any work of general literatiire (as a great part of our agricultural population are now, in fact.) Old Christmas Carols. Our clerks were mostly the leaders of the choir, if such a term may be applied to the four or iive old men who droned out the psalms from the singing-loft, where every Sunday one or two psalms from the old version were sung in parts, much after the manner of the old three-man's-songs. One might often hear the old clerk in Sennen give out the lines beginning with, " My saule is like a timmersone bur-r-d-e, &c." Then, after he had made the pitch-pipe produce a shrieking squeak, the three or four old souls, accompanied by their bass-viol, would quaver on, making such shrill and startling sounds as would set your hair on end and shake your teeth loose. Down in St. Levan, Uncle Josey, the clerk, would always have his own way about the singing, in spite - of the parson and everybody else. His favourite psalm was all about " the precious ointment running from Aaron's beard down unto the skirts of his raiment." From the old man's admiration of this odorous and unctuous song of praise, one seldom had any other than what were known as the Aaron psalm and " t'other." In the carol singing, on Christmas eve at night, the old men sang, and their brass buttons shone in all their glory, when, with heart and soul, they were ringing out such joyous strains as " Now let us be merry, and set sorrow aside," &c. Another favourite was an older carol, with the chorus of "Noel, noel, noel, born is the king of Israel." There were often sung still older ones, which contain many such old catholic traditions as are found in the apocryphal gospel of St. Nichodemus and Lives of the Saints, such as one about the blessed Mary walking through the orchard, when she longed for a red ripe apple far above her reach, "Then up spoke the babe in blessed Mary's womb; bow OLD FASHIONED FUNERALS. 139 down, apple tree, bow down, apple tree, that mother may have some." These simple ditties were then regarded with much reverence for their high antiquity. Some of the old manuscript carol-books, formerly used in churches at Christmas-tide, are still preserved with religious care by old folks of the West. Ancient Mode of Conducting Funerals. At this time, and long before, the men of Zennor were noticeable for their singing and other musical attainments, which they made a source of pleasure and profit, to themselves at least, from their being often asked to parish-feasts from a good distance off, especially down West (the wise folk live t'other side) that the feasters might be gratified by their harmonious strains in church on the Sunday, and brisk dancing tunes on their fiddles to set their heels a-shaking on other nights of the feasten week, besides for the sake of the new songs they often contrived to learn from the show people in Corpus Christi fair. But they were not often asked two years following, because when they once got into comfortable quarters, it was no easy matter to get rid of them until long after servy-day,* when they had more than eaten their welcome. For the sake of their psalm-singing they used also to be often asked to attend funerals round about, when the friends wished to show more than ordinary respect to the deceased, or themselves, and have the disconsolate widows cheered. The Zennor men, with their wives and children, never failed to come, with half a word's asking, from miles away, and they have the same fondness for funerals still ; whether seed-time or harvest, sunshine or rainy day, Zennor folks, old and young, will leave their work and scamper over hiUs and moors miles away to " a good buryal " (burying), where there is Ukely to be plenty of toddy and tobacco, cake and biscuit, provided for all comers. But their room is often better liked than their company; for, after the men have smoked and pocketed up as much good shag as opportunity would favour them to take, by stuffing into the palm of the hand instead of the bowl of the pipe, drunk as much toddy as they could possibly contrive to get hold of by shifting about from place to place, so as to be always near the jug of hot liquor as it is carried round for the people who remain outside, the women and children all push indoors that can, to look sharp after the cake and biscuits, of which they contrive to pocket up a gootl store for the children left home, and don't forget the toddy, believe me, even if they have a " dish of nice, sweet, strong tea, siiure enotigh." After having stuffed and quaffed till near bursting point, they will scamper -away home like prall'dt dogs, and the devil a finger will they lend to help take the poor defunct * 'Wednesday in Feasten week. t Dogs with old tin pans, or the like, tied to their tails. 140 THE PENZANCE OF OUR GRANDFATHERS. to his last home, often miles away, leave alone the singing. They are often too drunk to raise' the funeral note, and make some*^un, which serves just as well, by getting into an old ballad-tune by mistake. Zennor folks are not often asked to parish feasts for the sake of their singing now : they may stay home and bleat to Carn Galver for what anyone cares about the greedy goats. Former Means of Information Among the People. We may hei-e take leave of our old clerks, observing that they were in general better educated, or at least better informe4, than • the rest of the community, few of whom knew anything about what might be regarded as the current literature of the time. Yet, with all their ignorance of every work of fiction, except E-obinson Crusoe and the Pilgrim's Progress (the former always i-egarded as literally true), the oldest of old folks of fifty years ago knew many scraps of Grecian and Roman lore, as well as rare legends of ordinary saints, besides all those of our local ones. The story of the taking of Troy town was as well known to many as the game of that name. I well remember an old farm labourer who did not know his a, b, c ; yet he would tell you much about the principal heroes of mythic history, and acquired the nickname of Plato from his always going about singing, when alone, the old song almost worthy of the sage, " Says Plato, why should man be vain, since bounteous heaven has made him great?" great distance from Vellandruchar is the site of another ancient mill called VeUansager. This name is equally suggestive, as denoting that the serging or bolting apparatus was not then common in the mills. These old mills were situated in the lower part of Burrien, on the stream which divides that parish from Paul. According to tradition, a sanguinarj' battle was fought on the moors a little above Vellandruchar, between Arthur and the Danes, when they say the mill was worked with blood, and that arrow, si>ear and axe-heads, with the remains of other weapons, have frequently been foimd in the bog-turf (x)eat soil) which is cut for fuel from Vellandruchar Moors. These moors were also said to be so much infested with adders, in old time, that cattle could not be tamed into them in Summer, until one day an adder got into a pot of milk, which a man who was cutting turf on the moor brought with him to drink. The man placed a turf on the mouth of the pot, and stopped the adder in it. In a short time the imprisoned adder made a peculiar noise, which attracted other adders round the pot. These, in turn, seemed to call others, until from all parts of the moors the adders were seen directing their course straight to the interesting captive. The men cutting turf on the moors were all obliged to flee the low grounds. Towards night, when they ventured into the moor, they found that a mass of adders, as large as an ordinary hay-cock, had interlaced themselves into a solid heaj) over and round the pot. The people then formed a ring of dry furze, and other fuel they found ready cut, around the mass of adders, now apjjarently torpid. When many scores of trusses of furze were collected, fire was placed at the same instant to several parts of the ring of furze. They say that the noise made by the burning adders was frightful, and that a great number of mUpreaves were found in the This story of the adders is also told about Trevethow Moors, the ground now called the Hay MeadoW, and many other places, THE FRENCH ES LANDED. 169 grubs, took an extra glass of brandy; and was in bed snorin