{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_28609/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_28609","id":"gutenberg_28609","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28609","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - British","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Travel Writing","Cornwall (England : County) -- Description and travel"],"text":"Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE CORNISH RIVIERA\n\nDescribed by SIDNEY HEATH\n\nPictured by E. W. HASLEHUST\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBLACKIE AND SON LIMITED\n\nLONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO FOWEY HARBOUR]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBEAUTIFUL ENGLAND\n\n_VOLUMES READY_\n\n\nBATH AND WELLS\nBOURNEMOUTH AND CHRISTCHURCH\nCAMBRIDGE\nCANTERBURY\nCHESTER AND THE DEE\nTHE CORNISH RIVIERA\nDARTMOOR\nDICKENS-LAND\nTHE DUKERIES\nTHE ENGLISH LAKES\nEXETER\nFOLKESTONE AND DOVER\nHAMPTON COURT\nHASTINGS AND NEIGHBOURHOOD\nHEREFORD AND THE WYE\nTHE ISLE OF WIGHT\nTHE NEW FOREST\nNORWICH AND THE BROADS\nOXFORD\nTHE PEAK DISTRICT\nRIPON AND HARROGATE\nSCARBOROUGH\nSHAKESPEARE-LAND\nSWANAGE AND NEIGHBOURHOOD\nTHE THAMES\nWARWICK AND LEAMINGTON\nTHE HEART OF WESSEX\nWINCHESTER\nWINDSOR CASTLE\nYORK\n\n\nBEAUTIFUL IRELAND\n\nLEINSTER\nULSTER\nMUNSTER\nCONNAUGHT\n\n\nBEAUTIFUL SWITZERLAND\n\nLUCERNE\nVILLARS AND CHAMPERY\nCHAMONIX\nLAUSANNE AND ITS ENVIRONS\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n                                         Page\nEntrance to Fowey Harbour      _Frontispiece_\n\nTruro Cathedral from the River              8\n\nPolruan                                    14\n\nThe Harbour, Fowey                         20\n\nView of Falmouth Harbour                   26\n\nSt. Michael's Mount                        32\n\nOn the Lerryn River                        38\n\nPenzance from Newlyn Harbour               42\n\nIn the Harbour, Newlyn                     46\n\nLand's End                                 50\n\nIn St. Ives Harbour                        54\n\nThe Cliffs, Newquay                        58\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nTHE CORNISH RIVIERA\n\n\n\n\nPLYMOUTH TO LAND'S END\n\n     \"By Tre, Pol, and Pen,\n     You may know the Cornishmen.\"\n\n\nThe majority of our English counties possess some special feature, some\nparticular attraction which acts as a lodestone for tourists, in the\nform of a stately cathedral, striking physical beauty, or a wealth of\nhistorical or literary associations. There are large districts of rural\nEngland that would have remained practically unknown to the multitude\nhad it not been for their possession of some superb architectural\ncreation, or for the fame bestowed upon the district by the makers of\nliterature and art. The Bard of Avon was perhaps the unconscious pioneer\nin the way of providing his native town and county with a valuable asset\nof this kind. The novels of Scott drew thousands of his readers to the\nNorth Country, and those of R. D. Blackmore did the same for the scenes\nso graphically depicted in _Lorna Doone_; while Thomas Hardy is probably\nresponsible for half the number of tourists who visit Dorset.\n\nCornwall, on the contrary, is unique, in that, despite its wealth of\nCeltic saints, crosses, and holy wells, it does not possess any\noverwhelming attractions in the way of physical beauty (the coast line\nexcepted), literary associations, beautiful and fashionable spas, or\nmediaeval cathedrals.\n\nHistory, legends, folklore, and traditions it has in abundance, while\nprobably no portion of south-west England is so rich in memorials of the\nCeltic era. At the same time one can quite understand how it was that,\nuntil comparatively recent years, the Duchy land was visited by few\ntourists, as we count them to-day; and why the natives should think and\nspeak of England as a distant, and indeed a foreign, country. Certain is\nit that less than a quarter of a century ago those who crossed the Tamar\nand journeyed westward into the sparsely populated Cornish towns and\nvillages, were hailed as \"visitors from England\".\n\nBounded on the north and south by the sea, cut off on the east by the\nTamar, the delectable Duchy was a singularly isolated strip of land\nuntil the magic connecting link was forged by Brunel. Indeed it is not\ntoo much to say that Cornwall owes its present favourable position as a\nhealth resort almost entirely to the genius of Brunel and the enterprise\nof the Great Western Railway.\n\nThe lateness of the railway development of Cornwall is somewhat\nremarkable when we remember that the county contained, in the\npicturesque Bodmin and Wadebridge Railway, the third line opened for\npassenger traffic in the kingdom. A quarter of a century later Plymouth\nwas connected with the outer world, but for long after the historic\nports and towns of the southern seaboard had been gradually linked up,\nthe splendid isolation of the northern coast remained until\ncomparatively recent years. It is but a short time ago that the only way\nof reaching Newquay was by means of a single mineral line that ran from\nPar Junction. Contrast this with the present day, when there is a choice\nof no less than five trains by which passengers can travel from\nPaddington to Newquay, to say nothing of the morning coach which meets\nthe South Western train from Waterloo at Wadebridge. The famous Cornish\nRiviera expresses, that do the journey from Paddington to Penzance in a\nfew hours, have become a familiar feature to those who live in the\nwestern counties, and few seaside resorts, situated three hundred miles\nfrom London, are so favoured by railway enterprise as the beauty spots\nof Cornwall.\n\nThis is essentially a county that is best toured by railway. The places\nand towns most worth visiting lie far apart, and are divided by a good\ndeal of pleasant but not very interesting country, and one can obtain a\nmore than sufficient amount of walking along the vast stretch of\nseaboard.\n\nThe line from Plymouth to Truro crosses the fine estuary of the Tamar\nupon the Albert Bridge, one of Brunel's triumphs, and runs along the\nnorthern bank of the river Lynher. Almost at the head of the river is\nSt. Germans, where, for those who can spare the time, a stay of a few\nhours may be profitably made. According to tradition it derives its name\nfrom St. Germanus, Bishop of Auxerre, who visited Britain in 429, and\nagain in 447. From 850 to 1049 the town was the seat of the bishopric of\nCornwall, which was afterwards incorporated in the see of Devon. The\nchurch is a good one with an ancient porch highly enriched with carvings\nand traceries. The greater part of the present building dates from 1261,\nand it occupies the site of the ancient Cornish cathedral.\n\n[Illustration: TRURO CATHEDRAL FROM THE RIVER]\n\nThe fine ancestral home of Port Eliot, the residence of Lord St.\nGermans, was formerly called Porth Prior, from an Anglo-Saxon religious\nhouse granted to Richard Eliot in 1565, but of this original building no\ntrace whatever remains above the ground. Within the house are some good\nportraits of the Eliots, including a large number by Sir Joshua\nReynolds.\n\nFrom St. Germans our journey lies through pleasant vales and wooded\nhills to Liskeard, a quiet little market town situated partly on the\nslope of a steep hill, and partly in a valley traversed by the Looe and\nLiskeard Canal. The district abounds in mysterious piles of rock such as\nthe Trethevy Stone, and the Hurlers; while the student of folklore will\nnot fail to be attracted by the sacred wells of St. Keyne and St. Cleer.\nThe latter was used formerly as a Bowssening Pool, and held in great\nrepute for its efficacy in restoring the insane to \"mens sana in corpore\nsano\". Not far away is the interesting church of St. Neots', with a\nquantity of very fine mediaeval glass.\n\nThe site of the old castle of Liskeard is preserved to some extent in a\ntree-planted public walk, while in the ancient Grammar School, \"Peter\nPindar\" (Dr. Wolcot) and the learned Dean Prideaux received their\neducation. St. Martin's Church has a set of curious gargoyles, while\nportions of a nunnery, dedicated to St. Clare, are said to have been\nbuilt into the walls of one of the houses. In 1644, during the Civil\nWar, Charles I was here, and again in the following year.\n\nFrom Liskeard, Looe may be reached either by rail, road, or canal. The\nroad passes St. Keyne, where the waters of the well are said to possess\na remarkable property, according to Thomas Fuller, who says, \"whether\nhusband or wife came first to drink thereof, they get the mastery\nthereby\". The well has been immortalized in Southey's well-known ballad,\n_The Well of St. Keyne_.\n\n\n     \"A well there is in the west countrie,\n       And a clearer one never was seen,\n     There is not a wife in the west countrie\n       But has heard of the well of St. Keyne.\"\n\n\nThe ballad goes on to relate that a traveller, sitting beside the well,\nmet a countryman, with whom he had a long chat about its tradition:\n\n\n     \"'You drank of the water, I warrant, betimes,'\n       He to the countryman said;\n     But the countryman smiled as the stranger spoke,\n       And sheepishly shook his head.\n\n     \"'I hastened as soon as the wedding was o'er,\n       And left my good wife in the porch;\n     But faith! she had been quicker than I,\n       For she took a bottle to church!'\"\n\n\nSt. Keyne or St. Keyna, the tutelary saint of this well, is said to have\nbeen a pious virgin, the daughter of Braganus, Prince of Brecknockshire,\nwho lived about the year 490. She is also said to have made a pilgrimage\nto St. Michael's Mount, and to have founded a religious establishment\nthere.\n\nTwo miles in a southerly direction is Duloe, where some upright stones\nhave been conjectured to be portions of a druidical circle some\ntwenty-eight feet in diameter. A little to the west of the twin villages\nof East and West Looe is Trelawne, an ancient seat of the Trelawny\nfamily; but the house is not shown to visitors, although a request to\nview the fine collection of pictures, which includes a portrait by\nKneller, is generally granted. Kneller's portrait is of the famous\nbishop, Sir Jonathan Trelawny, whose counterfeit presentment recalls the\nstirring times when every Cornish village echoed with the defiant\nstrain:\n\n\n     \"And shall Trelawny die? and shall Trelawny die?\n     There's thirty thousand underground shall know the reason why.\n     And shall they scorn Tre, Pol, and Pen? and shall Trelawny die?\n     There's thirty thousand Cornish boys will know the reason why.\n     Trelawny he's in keep, and hold; Trelawny he may die,\n     But thirty thousand Cornish men will know the reason why?\"\n\n\nThe villages of East and West Looe are among the most picturesque on the\nsouthern seaboard. The estuary on the sides of which they are situated,\nis confined between lofty hills whose slopes are covered with allotment\ngardens and orchards. The bridge that crosses the creek a quarter of a\nmile from the haven mouth, was erected in 1855, when it displaced a\nremarkable old bridge of fifteen arches. In the days of the third Edward\nthe combined Looes furnished twenty ships and a contingent of 315 men\nfor the siege of Calais.\n\nSome delightful boating excursions may be made from Looe, the one most\nin favour being that to Watergate up the West Looe river, which unites\nwith the main stream half a mile above the town. The stream winds among\nlofty hills, covered with rich and abundant verdure.\n\nThe ancient Guildhall of West Looe, said to have been built originally\nas a monastic chapel, is a picturesque old building, the framework of\nwhich is composed of ships' beams. The cage for scolds has disappeared,\nbut the stocks, of a very barbarous kind, have been placed across an\nopen gable. The building was re-consecrated in 1852, since when services\nhave been regularly held within it.\n\nThe eleven miles that separate Fowey from Looe should be traversed on\nfoot by way of Talland, Polperro, and Polruan. Talland Church is\ndelightfully placed, while its tower is connected with the main building\nby means of a porch. The bench ends within are very interesting,\nparticularly a set with finials in the form of winged figures\nadministering the Eucharist. These pew ends are quite unlike any others\nin the country, and they are somewhat of an ecclesiastical puzzle. From\nTalland a rocky coast walk of less than two miles leads to Polperro,\nwith the narrowest of all the narrow little ravines that offer shelter\nto the mariner on this exposed portion of the coast. The antiquary\nLeland describes it as \"a little fischar towne with a peere\". It is an\nextraordinary jumble of habitations which press upon each other so\nclosely that it is only by wriggling through the narrow streets and\nturnings that one can make any progress at all.\n\nThere is no coast track west of Polperro and both the roads to Fowey are\nvery hilly. The pedestrian should proceed by way of Lansallos, where the\nchurch in the Perpendicular style forms a conspicuous sea-mark. From\nPolruan the descent to Fowey is very steep, but the view of the harbour\nfrom the high land is one of great charm.\n\nAs we look at the little stranded and sunlit port to-day, it is\ndifficult to realize that Fowey once shared with Plymouth and Dartmouth\nthe maritime honours of the south-west coast. In those days Looe,\nPenryn, and Truro were regarded as creeks under Fowey. The harbour,\nwhich is navigable as far as Lostwithiel, a distance of eight miles, is\nformed mainly by the estuary of the river Fowey, the town stretching\nalong the western bank of the harbour for a mile.\n\nSeen for the first time Fowey is a revelation. Much known and rather too\nmuch visited, it is yet one of Cornwall's most picturesque and\ninteresting towns. Nature and art have combined to make it so; the art\nof the old village builder, not the so-called art of to-day. A modern\nelement exists, but it is of small proportions. May it always remain so.\n\nStanding on the heights one looks down upon the river below. On either\nside is a jumble of ancient houses with leaning and weather-stained\nwalls. It is doubtful if we ought to admire such ill-ventilated and\nout-of-date dwelling houses, in this essentially scientific age. But the\ngeneral effect of line, of light and shade produced by a mass of broken\nand highly unconventional contours--gables where there should be\nchimneys, and chimneys where one is accustomed to look for doorposts--is\nhighly satisfactory and pleasing from the artist's point of view.\n\nSteep hills and zigzag roads, at every alarming angle of declivity,\nintercept the labyrinth of houses, which stand on each other's heads, or\npeep over each other's shoulders, and settle down on the ledges of the\nriver bank.\n\n[Illustration: POLRUAN]\n\nAs the principal Cornish seaport, the town sent Edward III no less than\nforty-seven ships and 770 mariners for the Calais expedition--a quota\nexceeded only by the eastern port of Yarmouth. Leland tells us that the\nplace rose rapidly into importance \"partely by feates of warre, partely\nby pyracie; and so waxing riche felle all to marchaundize, so that the\ntowne was hauntid with shippes of diverse nations, and their shippes\nwent to all nations\". When the Cinque Ports of Rye and Winchelsea\nthreatened to oust Fowey from its position as the premier Channel port,\nthe Cornishmen defeated the mariners of Kent in a desperate sea fight,\nwhen they quartered the arms of the Cinque Ports on their own scutcheon,\nand assumed the title of \"Fowey Gallaunts\". They then made war on their\nown account against the French, and became little better than pirates\nready to attack the ships of their own and every country, in port or on\nthe high seas. They became such a thorn in the side of the king, Edward\nIV, by reason of their continuing to capture French ships after peace\nhad been concluded, that the angry monarch caused them to be enticed to\nLostwithiel, where their ringleaders were taken and hanged. From this\nperiod Fowey's maritime position began to decline. The inhabitants were\ncompelled to pay a heavy fine, and the whole of their shipping was\nhanded over to the port of Dartmouth.\n\nCarew tells us that sixty ships belonged to Fowey at that period. The\ntwin forts of Fowey were erected in the reign of Edward IV to protect\nthe roadstead from the ravages of the French. Standing something like\nthose below Dartmouth, on each side of the water, a thick boom or chain\nstretched across the mouth of the river would be sufficient protection\nagainst vessels propelled by sails. The last gallant action performed\nby these forts was in 1666, when they were assisted by the then almost\nnew fort of St. Catherine. A Dutch fleet of eighty sail of the line was\noff the town in the hope of capturing an English fleet bound for\nVirginia, which had put into Fowey for shelter. A Dutch frigate of 74\nguns attempted to force the entrance, but after being under the\ncrossfire of the forts for two hours, was forced to tack about and\nregain the open sea.\n\nSir A. T. Quiller-Couch writes thus of Fowey in _Troy Town_. \"The\nvisitor,\" says he, \"if he be of my mind, will find a charm in Fowey over\nand above its natural beauty, and what I may call its holiday\nconveniences, for the yachtsman, for the sea-fisherman, or for one\ncontent to idle in peaceful waters. It has a history, and carries the\nmarks of it. It has also a flourishing trade and a life of its own.\"\n\nThe church of St. Fimbarrus, almost hidden from view except from the\nharbour side, is mainly of fifteenth-century date, although portions may\nwell be a century earlier. The roof of the tall tower is richly\ndecorated, and the north aisle is undoubtedly the remnant of a much\nearlier edifice. There are two good brasses and some interesting\nmonuments, also a memorial to Sir John Treffry, who captured the French\nstandard at the battle of Poictiers.\n\nThe most important piece of domestic architecture in the neighbourhood\nis Place House, the seat of the Treffry family. This is a fine Tudor\nmansion, that is said to occupy the site of a royal palace, reputed to\nhave been the residence of the Earls of Cornwall. Leland records that on\none occasion, when the French attempted to take the town, \"the wife of\nThomas Treffry with her servants, repelled their enemies out of the\nhouse, in her husband's absence; whereupon he builded a right faire and\nstrong embattled tower in his house, and embattled it to the walls of\nhis house\". The ancient church also is worth a visit, and among its many\nmemorials is an elaborate monument to one of the Rashleigh family,\nanother of the old Cornish families, whose history seems to be as\nancient as the legends of the county. The inscription on the tomb\nreads:--\n\n\n     \"JOHN RAISHELEIGHE LYVED YEARES THREESCORE THREE\n     AND THEN DID YEILDE TO DYE,\n     HE DID BEQVEATHE HIS SOVLE TO GOD\n     HIS CORPS HEREIN TO LYE.\n\n     \"THE DEVONSHEIRE HOWSE Y^t RAISHELEIGHE HEIGHT\n     WELL SHEWETH FROM WHENCE HE CAME;\n     HIS VIRTVOVS LIEF IN FOYE TOWNN\n     DESERVETH ENDLESS FAME.\n\n     \"LANION HE DID TAKE TO WIFE, BY HER HAD CHILDREN STORE,\n     YET AT HIS DEATHE BOT DAVGHTERS SIXE, ONE SONNE HE HAD NOE MORE.\n     ALL THEM TO PORTRAHE VNDER HERE, BECAVSE FITTE SPACE WAS NONE,\n     THE SONNE, WHOSE ONLI ECHARGE THIS WAS, IS THEREFORE SETT ALONE.\"\n\n\nFor the yachting man Fowey is very attractive, although during the\nseason the small harbour is rather too crowded with craft. The entrance\npresents difficulties to the unexperienced amateur, but once inside the\nheadlands there is usually no difficulty in securing a safe and\nconvenient berth.\n\nThe favourite anchorage is off Polruan, but there is deep water for a\nconsiderable distance beyond that straggling village.\n\nThe river excursions from Fowey are full of charm, but so much depends\non the state of the tide. The short trip by boat to Golant, a distance\nof two miles, should not be missed. The village occupies a cleft on the\nhillside, where the gardens and orchards reach down to the water's edge.\nLuxulyan, with its deep sylvan valley and large perched blocks of stone,\nis another favourite spot for excursions.\n\nAt the head of the river stands Lostwithiel, with a church whose tower\nthe late Mr. G. Street, R.A., was wont to designate \"the pre-eminent\nglory of Cornwall\". Near the church are the ruins of Restormel Castle,\nwhile the Fowey and the little river Lerryn are good fishing streams\nwhere plenty of salmon and trout fishing may be enjoyed.\n\nFor the pedestrian there is a large choice of walks within a moderate\ndistance, to Par Harbour, St. Blazey, and St. Austell, the last with a\nfine church, on the walls of which is a well sculptured representation\nof the Veronica. The shore rambles are equally numerous and attractive.\n\nCornwall may be said to possess three capitals. Launceston the historic\ncapital, Bodmin the town of Assize, and Truro the ecclesiastical and\ncommercial centre. To reach the last named for the purposes of our\npresent journey, the visitor cannot do better than take train at Par\nJunction. Truro itself cannot be said to possess much in the way of\ncivic beauty or historical interest, although it is an excellent centre\nfor touring purposes. Moreover it has, pending the completion of the\nfine structure in the course of erection on the banks of the Mersey, the\nhonour of possessing the only Protestant Cathedral erected in this\ncountry since the Reformation. The name \"Truro\" is thought to be derived\neither from _Tru-ru_, the three streets, or _Tre-rhiw_, the village on\nthe slope (of the river). There is a general impression that Truro is on\nthe river Fal, but the truth is that the triangular piece of land on\nwhich the city stands, is washed on the east by the river Allen, and on\nthe west by the Kenwyn. Between these two streams lies modern Truro,\nwith its stately cathedral rising high above the houses that surround\nit. Truro's most eminent son, Samuel Foote, was born in 1720 at the town\nhouse of his father's family, the Footes of Lambesso. The house, now the\nRed Lion Hotel in Boscawen Street, has retained a good many of its\noriginal features, including a very fine oak staircase. Foote is\ngenerally considered to be the greatest of the dramatic authors of his\nclass, while in power of mimicry and broad humour he had few equals. In\nlate life he lost his leg through an accident in riding, a circumstance\nthat led to his producing a play, _The Lame Lover_, in which his loss of\na limb might be made a positive advantage. In all, his plays and\ndramatic pieces number about twenty, and he boasted at the close of his\nlife that he had enriched the English stage with sixteen quite new\ncharacters.\n\nTruro was also the birthplace of the brothers Richard and John Lander,\nthe explorers; Bode, a painter of some merit; and Richard Polwhele, the\nhistorian of Devon and Cornwall.\n\n[Illustration: THE HARBOUR, FOWEY]\n\nThe cathedral is not entirely a modern building, for it has incorporated\nwith it the south aisle of the old parish church of St. Mary, with its\nlong associations with the municipality. The narrow lanes and streets\nsurrounding the stately pile of buildings differ essentially from the\ngardens and canonical residences that are the pride of so many of our\nmediaeval cathedrals; but they make a fitting environment for the mother\nchurch of a working ecclesiastical centre.\n\nOf several interesting houses in the neighbourhood the most important is\nTregothnan, the residence of Lord Falmouth. The mansion is beautifully\nplaced upon high ground, the views from which include the numerous\nwooded creeks of the lovely Fal, and the wide expanse of Falmouth\nHarbour, studded with the shipping of many nations. The house was\ndesigned by Wilkins, the architect of the National Gallery, and is in\nthe Early English and Tudor styles.\n\nThe gatehouse of Tregothnan is situated at Tresilian Bridge, the spot\nwhere the struggle between Charles I and Cromwell was brought to a close\nin Cornwall, by the surrender of the Royalists to General Fairfax.\n\nThe ecclesiologist will find many interesting old churches in this\nneighbourhood, of which perhaps that at Probus is the most important, as\nit is the least known. The tower is over one hundred feet in height,\nbeing the highest in the county, and is exceptionally rich in delicate\ncarvings and clustered pinnacles. The present building is mainly\nPerpendicular, but the foundation of a church here is attributed by\ntradition to Athelstan, who is said to have established a college of\nsecular canons dedicated to St. Probus. The chancel screen is modern\nwith the exception of the lower portion, which has been made up of the\nold fifteenth-century bench ends. A full and highly interesting account\nof this church, by Canon Fox Harvey, appeared in the _Truro Diocesan\nMagazine_ for 1905. Above the woods of Tregothnan, on the left bank of\nthe Truro, stands the fourteenth-century church of St. Michael Penkivel,\nwith numerous brasses to the memory of the Boscawens; while on the right\nbank of the Fal is Trelissic, a classical building whose portico is an\nexact reproduction of the temple of Erectheus at Athens.\n\nAll visitors to Truro make their way to the historic port of Falmouth by\nwater, when they travel along a length of river scenery that possesses\nno equal in beauty with the exception perhaps of a somewhat similar\nreach of the romantic Dart, in the adjoining county of Devon. Any\nmention of the Dart, however, as a possible rival to the Fal, is much\nresented by Cornishmen, and one that had better be left unsaid within\nthe boundaries of the delectable Duchy.\n\nThe old port of Falmouth is situated in a sheltered bay with the\nglittering sea beyond. Landward lie the villages of Mabe and\nConstantine, with their great granite quarries, and beyond them wide\nexpanses of undulating and treeless land that is not devoid of beauty.\nHere the climate is so mild that hydrangeas become large bushes, and the\neucalyptus attains the proportions of a forest tree. The port rose\nperhaps to its greatest height of prosperity in the days of the fourth\nGeorge, when the famous Falmouth packets--ten-gun brigs officered by\nnaval men--carried the mails to various Mediterranean ports, and to the\nNorth American and West Indian stations. A well preserved relic of these\ngood old days may be seen at Swanpool, where, in a cottage built by\nCommander Bull, may be observed a chiselled relief of the old\n\"Marlborough\" packet at the top angle of the facade. As a port Falmouth\nhas not kept pace with the steady growth in the size of steamships,\nalthough the opening of the railway to Truro set Falmouth cogitating\ngreat schemes in the way of spacious docks and large hotels. Some of us\ndo not regret that the town's maritime ambitions have been but partially\nrealized. We have many busy and flourishing seaports, but there is only\none Falmouth, with its quaint little alleys leading to the waterside,\ninconvenient and hopelessly behind the times, yet picturesque beyond\ndescription and redolent of the spirit of the past. One of the most\npleasing views of Falmouth is that obtained from the little township of\nFlushing across the harbour, once a quite fashionable suburb, but now a\nrather poor little fishing village.\n\nThe excursions from Falmouth, and the places of interest that lie within\neasy reach are too numerous to mention, for their very names are an\nattraction to the inquisitive topographer. Mylor lies over the hills of\nFlushing on the beautiful waters of the Fal; St. Mawes and the fishing\ntown of Gerrans are equally near; while the most hardened tourist could\nnot fail to wish to visit a village endowed with the charming name of\nSt. Just in Roseland.\n\nA reference should be made to the fine promontory of Pendennis, almost\nsurrounded by the sea, on the summit of which stands the historic castle\nthat has played no small part in our island story.\n\nThere are two road routes from Falmouth to the Lizard--the regular route\nthrough Helston, and the other, a trifle longer, by way of the woods of\nTrelowarren, the seat of the Cornish Vyvyans. The most enjoyable way,\nhowever, of viewing this well-known promontory is to sail from Falmouth.\nThose who would woo the charms of the Cornish coast from the water\nshould remember that even on the calmest day sailing along this exposed\nseaboard is no child's play, but a serious business. As a matter of fact\nno one who is not intimately acquainted with the coast should take a\nboat out of the harbour without an experienced man on board, and no\namateurs should attempt unaided, to sail the lugsail boats in general\nuse among the fishermen. The best boat for yachting in these waters is a\nten or fifteen ton cutter or yawl, such as can be hired at Falmouth for\nquite a moderate sum. But the coast is a dangerous one, for although the\nmorning run past the dreaded Manacles, Helford river, St. Keverne's, and\nright down to the Lizard, may present no difficulties, the return\nevening journey, with a stiff breeze from the land making a choppy sea,\nand the puzzling lights at the complicated entrance to the anchorage,\nare disturbing elements that make one feel thankful to have the skipper\non board to guide the little craft through the maze of shipping, and\npick up her moorings. For small boat sailing the waters of the Fal are\nideal, but here also, as on the salt waters beyond the river mouth,\ngreat care is required by reason of the wind cutting down the creeks and\ngullies with practically no warning. What a halo of tragedy lies over\nthe dreaded Manacles! and what wonderful escapes some fortunate vessels\nhave had. The author once saw a schooner of five hundred tons thread the\nnarrow channels of the needle-pointed rocks in safety, but the feat was\nregarded by his companion, an old sailor of Falmouth, as little short of\na miracle. As a matter of fact captains who get their ships among the\nManacles are so anxious to keep the news from reaching the owners that\nthey hang a sail over the names of their ships.\n\nBy a glance at the map it is obvious to anyone that no vessel going up\nor down the Channel need be within a dozen or more miles of the\nManacles. Yet many still get there; and few are fortunate enough to get\naway without becoming total wrecks. Not only on account of nearness of\ntime do the _Mohegan_ and the _Paris_ disasters take undoubted\nprecedence in the Manacles' victims, but on one occasion the loss of\nlife was appalling. The _Mohegan_ was a steamship of 7000 tons in charge\nof Captain Griffiths, the commodore of the Atlantic Transport Company.\nAt half-past two on her second day out she signalled \"All well\" at\nPrawle Point. Four and a half hours later, when the light was good and\nthe wind not high, she dashed into the Vase Rock, one of the outer\nManacles, and within twenty minutes all except the upper portions of her\nmasts and funnels were beneath the water. How the _City of Paris_ got on\nthe rocks is equally a mystery, for she is computed to have been twenty\nmiles out of her proper course when she struck, and the weather was fine\nand the night clear.\n\n[Illustration: VIEW OF FALMOUTH HARBOUR]\n\nAs Mr. Albert Bluett says: \"We have the uncontradicted statements of\nseamen of all classes, that the bell-buoy, fixed to one of the outer\nManacles, is utterly inadequate to warn vessels of their nearness to\ndanger. And when the sounds of that bell came in the landward breeze to\nwhere I stood looking across the reef, they seemed, not a message of\nwarning to those who cross the deep, but as the death-knell of the\nhundreds of men, women, and children who have breathed their last in the\nsea around the Manacles.\"\n\nThere is no doubt that generations of smugglers and wreckers existed all\nalong this exposed and dangerous coast, and the lawlessness of the\nCornish folk in such matters as smuggling, and pilfering from wrecks,\nearned for them a very unenviable reputation. The deeds of Jack\nRattenbury, of Beer, and the daring exploits of Harry Paye, of Poole,\nfade into insignificance by comparison with the doings of John Carter,\nwho was known and feared all along the wild Cornish seaboard. He was\nknown locally as the \"King of Prussia\", owing, it is said, to his\nresemblance to Frederick the Great. Be this as it may, Bessy's Cove, a\nsmall bay a few miles to the west of Helston, has, since Carter's day,\nbeen known as Prussia Cove, a striking tribute to the power of the\nsmuggler. At this cove Carter widened the harbour, fortified the\npromontory that overlooks it, and adopted the numerous caves for the\nstorage of illicit cargoes. These splendid and natural storehouses may\nstill be seen, together with the \"King of Prussia's\" house, and the\nremains of the battery he erected; for this intrepid smuggler did not\nhesitate to open fire on any of the king's ships that ventured within\nrange of his guns. Carter flourished in the middle of the eighteenth\ncentury, and it is difficult for us to realize to-day that such a state\nof lawlessness could have existed in the days of our great-grandparents.\n\nThe difficulties of patrolling the coast in the days before steamships,\nand the passive assistance he must have received from the people,\nenabled Carter to carry on a very profitable trade, although he\nnaturally had many escapes from capture.\n\nEven when arrested in the act of conveying kegs of brandy to his\ncustomers, he appears to have found no difficulty in proving an _alibi_.\nThe reason for this of course is that smuggling was regarded with more\nthan toleration by the people and the gentry alike, while even the local\nadministrators of justice had an interest in the ventures. The result\nwas that it was impossible for the Revenue officers to obtain a\nconviction, for the magistrates regarded the flimsiest _alibi_ as excuse\nsufficient for them to set the \"King of Prussia\" at liberty.\n\nAt length the authorities appear to have realized that the ordinary\nlegal methods, as administered by the local magistracy, were quite\nuseless. Accordingly a strongly armed Revenue cutter sailed for Prussia\nCove with orders to storm the stronghold and destroy the battery. As the\ncutter's instructions were not sent through the usual local channels,\nthere was no leakage of the commander's intentions, and having received\nno warning of the expedition, the smugglers were taken completely by\nsurprise. As soon as the hostile intentions of the cutter were revealed,\nCarter opened a heavy fire on the small boats that conveyed the landing\nparty; but after a fierce fight, in which there were heavy casualties on\nboth sides, a landing was effected, and the fortress carried by storm.\nThe work of dismantling the fort was considered of more importance than\nthe immediate capture of the smugglers, and nothing seems to be known as\nto whether they were ever arrested and tried.\n\nFor the exploration of the Lizard and Kynance districts there is no\nbetter centre than Helston, although those who find little to interest\nthem in the interior of the peninsula may be advised to proceed direct\nto Lizard Town, as being in closer proximity to such attractive spots as\nMullion and Cadgwith. Helston itself is an oldfashioned town that has\nnot many attractions for the modern tourist. It is a borough of some\nantiquity, and once possessed a Norman castle which fell into ruin in\nthe reign of Edward IV. The annual festival known as Helston Flora Day\nis generally considered to be a survival of an old Roman custom. It was\noriginally held on the 8th of May, but in recent years has taken place\non any convenient date. The greatest attraction of the place to-day is\nthe Loo or Loe Pool, a large sheet of water two miles in length and five\nin circumference. This is quite one of the largest natural lakes in the\nsouth of England, and is a favourite resort for anglers. It is separated\nfrom the sea by a bar of shingle, scarcely three hundred yards wide at\nlow tide. On this bar, in 1807, the _Anson_, a 40-gun ship, was wrecked,\nwith a loss of sixty lives. One of the small inlets of this lake,\nPenrose Creek, is well known to botanists as the home of the little\nplant _Nitella hyalina_. The weed is found in four feet of water,\noccupying less than twelve square yards, and is not known to exist in\nany other locality in Great Britain.\n\nMullion Cove is considered by many people to be the most beautiful spot\nalong the Cornish Riviera. It certainly has many attractions for the\nartist, and its caves and crags have been photographed, sketched, and\npainted _ad nauseam_.\n\nNo one with antiquarian tastes should neglect to visit the church of\nMullion Church-town, a good Perpendicular building that was restored in\n1870. The many features of interest include portions of the old rood\nscreen, and a very fine set of carved bench ends which are justly\nconsidered to be the richest in carving of any in the west of England.\n\nThe view from the high land above the cove is one of great beauty, with\nSt. Michael's Mount rising abruptly from the waters of the bay, and\nbeyond it the clustered houses of Penzance.\n\nKynance Cove is an equally charming place that lies one and a half miles\nto the north-west of the Lizard. The bay is studded with a quantity of\nscattered rocks, which rejoice in such curious names as Devil's Bellows,\nDevil's Throat, the Letter Box, &c. At Landewednack in the parish of\nLizard Point, the last sermon in the ancient Cornish language is said to\nhave been preached in 1678. The church is one of the most beautifully\nsituated along these wild southern shores.\n\nThe first view of Penzance from Marazion (known locally as Market Jew)\nis one that is never forgotten. Right before us, rises the famous St.\nMichael's Mount, capped with its architectural adornment; to the right\nthe bay swings round in a semicircle to Penzance, beyond which is the\nharbour of Newlyn, the village that has played so great a part in the\nhistory of our modern school of painting.\n\nCertainly nowhere else in England is found the like of St. Michael's\nMount, with its curious mingling of a mediaeval fortress and modern\nresidence; of antiquarian treasures and up-to-date conveniences. At the\nfoot of the rock is a tiny harbour and a cluster of cottages, and here\nalso is a kind of station for the railway, which carries coal,\nprovisions, and luggage up to the top of the Mount. When the tide is out\nthe Mount can be reached along a causeway, but the road is very rough\nfor walking, as one would expect from its peculiar position on the bed\nof the sea.\n\nThe Mount is really a pyramidical mass of granite, a mile in\ncircumference, capped by a cluster of castellated buildings. The steep\nascent up the side of the rock is commanded by a cross-wall pierced with\nembrasures, and a platform mounting two small batteries. The house\nitself has a few interesting points and an excellent chapel with some\ngood details of the Decorated and Perpendicular periods. From the summit\nof the rock a superb panorama of the Cornish coast and the\nwide-spreading Channel may be obtained. The mythical legends and\ntraditions that have grown up around this solitary rock bear much\nresemblance to those that are told about its French counterpart, the\nMont St. Michel of Normandy. The romantic legends of both concern great\nheroes and super-terrestrial beings doing battle with evil dragons and\nfiendish monsters.\n\n[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT]\n\nThe Mount is certainly a very attractive spot, and, by the kindness of\nthe owner, access to the castle is generally allowed. The building has\nbeen much modernized during recent years, but many of its original\nfeatures remain. Some alterations at the chapel led to the discovery of\na blocked-up Gothic doorway, which, being opened, revealed a flight of\nstone steps terminating in a dark vault, wherein lay the skeleton of a\nman. The old refectory of the monks is the most distinctive feature of\nthe present house. The Mount is a parish without a public-house, the\nonly one which ever existed there having been closed a few years ago.\n\nIn an old volume on Cornwall, published in 1824, we learn that \"Turbot\nare caught in great plenty during the Summer Season. In Mount's Bay\nthere have been instances of 30 being taken in an evening with the hook\nand line. When plentiful, they are sold from 4_d._ to 6_d._ per pound.\"\nLeland writes: \"Penzantes about a mile from Mousehold, standing fast in\nthe shore of Mount Bay, is the Westest Market Town of all Cornwall,\nSocur for botes or shypes, but a forced pere or Key. Theyr is but a\nChapel yn the sayd towne, as ys in Newlyn, for theyr paroche Chyrches be\nmore than a mile off.\"\n\nThe neighbourhood of Penzance is rendered very attractive by the variety\nof its scenery, and the glorious bay offers unlimited opportunities for\nboating and fishing. The mother church of Penzance is that of Madron a\nshort distance away. The building stands 350 feet above the sea and\ncontains some old memorials, including a tombstone to the memory of\nGeorge Daniell, a local benefactor. His epitaph reads:\n\n\n     \"Belgia me birth, Britaine me breeding gave,\n     Cornwall a wife, ten children, and a grave.\"\n\n\nMadron Well is a chalybeate spring once in much esteem for its curative\nproperties, and its prophetical powers in respect to love and marriage.\nThe holy well here, situated on the moor about a mile to the north-west\nof the church, was partially destroyed during the Parliamentary wars, by\nMajor Ceely of St. Ives.\n\nOne of the most delightful excursions from Penzance is that to Mousehole\nand Lamorna Cove, and one for which the whole of a day should be\nallotted.\n\nWhile in the neighbourhood of Penzance the visitor who is fortunate\nenough to be a good sailor should not fail to make the trip to the\nScilly Isles, although the passage is generally a trying one. The\nislands consist mainly of low rocks, covered with gorse and heather\nwhere their slopes are not given over to flower growing, that great\nindustry of these solitary isles. The coastward sides of the downs\nterminate in granitic rocks which are a terror to navigators. Even\nunder the guard of three lighthouses and a lightship, thousands of lives\nhave been lost on the Scillies, and there is a prodigious litter of\nwreckage wedged in among the granite boulders. Probably the worst\ndisasters were the wreck of Sir Cloudesley Shovell's fleet in 1707, and\nthat of the _Schiller_ in 1875. Of the hundreds of lesser calamities\nthere is no record. St. Agnes is perhaps the worst offender, and the\nlighthouse keeper there is a gloomy man. It has been fittingly said that\nhis landscape of rocks must be about as enlivening to him as a square\nmile or so of tombstones.\n\nPenzance itself is a town of many attractions of the civilized order,\nand the whole of the neighbourhood is lovely. It is the most westerly\ntown in England, and one that has a good deal of ancient history. The\nolder part of the town, lying between Market Jew Street and the harbour,\nhas retained a good deal of its ancient domestic architecture, but the\nchurches have no features of any particular interest.\n\nThe fishing village of Newlyn is a picturesque but ill-built group of\nold cottages, fish-cellars, bungalows, and artists' studios. As an art\ncentre it has played, and is still playing, a very considerable part,\nwhile many of the native models of the place look out from gilded frames\nin half the picture galleries of Europe. It must unquestionably be the\nmost painted spot in the British Isles, and it would be difficult to\nfind a single nook or corner that has not been depicted on paper or\ncanvas. One of the curious little streets bears the exotic name of \"Rue\ndes Beaux Arts\", a reminder of the fact that it was in a dwelling of\nthis street that Frank Bramley painted his dramatic picture \"_A Hopeless\nDawn_\", now in the Tate Gallery. There is a considerable artists' colony\nstill resident here, although a good many of those who first brought the\nplace into fame have migrated to pastures new, and particularly to the\nneighbouring port of St. Ives. At the same time Newlyn is still, and\nalways will be, a magic word in art circles, for here such painters as\nStanhope Forbes, Frank Bramley, J. A. Gotch, Walter Langley, Sydney\nGrier, Chevalier Tayler, to mention but a few, introduced a new if\nsomewhat exotic phase into the traditions of British art. Mr. A.\nStanhope Forbes, A.R.A., writes: \"I had come from France, where I had\nbeen studying, and wandering down into Cornwall, came one spring morning\nalong that dusty road by which Newlyn is approached from Penzance.\nLittle did I think that the cluster of grey-roofed houses which I saw\nbefore me against the hillside would be my home for so many years. What\nlodestone of artistic metal the place contains I know not, but its\neffects were strongly felt, in the studios of Paris and Antwerp\nparticularly, by a number of young English painters studying there, who\njust about then, by some common impulse, seemed drawn towards this\ncorner of their native land.... It was part of our creed to paint our\npictures directly from nature, and not merely to rely upon sketches and\nstudies which we could afterwards amplify in the comfort of a studio.\"\n\nThe road from Penzance to Land's End being rather dull and devoid of\ninterest, the best way to reach the outlying promontory is by one of the\nG.W.R. motors that make the regular journey. A stay of a short time is\nusually made at the Logan Rock, perched on the summit of a pile of\ncrags. To reach it involves rather a breakneck scramble down and stiff\nclimb up, and it is doubtful if the satisfaction of having done the feat\nis equal to the amount of fatigue involved. The stone rocks to a\nconsiderable degree, but less than it did before it was upset in 1824 by\nLieutenant Goldsmith, who was commanded to replace it by the Admiralty.\nSt. Buryan Church and Cross are both worth inspection. The former has a\ntower ninety feet in height, while the latter has been attributed to the\nRomano-British period. It is a plain little erection of stone standing\non a base of five steps. On one side is carved in low relief a fully\nclothed figure of the Saviour with hands extended horizontally.\n\nThe first aspect of Land's End, with its covering of turf, worn smooth\nby the feet of many trippers, is disappointing; and it is only when we\nbegin to wander about the lesser used trackways that it is possible to\nrealize that this is no ordinary promontory, but a lonely headland\nbroken into a hundred beetling crags, with huge granite boulders piled\none on another, forming a stalwart bulwark against the onrushing waves\nof the Atlantic. In the crevices of these miniature precipices purple\nheather and golden gorse have set them here and there, while the silver\nlichens have clothed the scarred surfaces of rock with a tender grace.\nThe wind-swept downs that cap the lonely headland are also not without a\ncertain beauty, from the very nature of the surrounding waste of wild\ngrey sea.\n\nAs we gaze over the waters from the top of this lonely rock, we think\ninstinctively of the lost land of Lyonesse, that antiquaries and\ngeologists tell us once stretched from our feet to the Scillies.\n\n[Illustration: ON THE LERRYN RIVER]\n\nThat such a denudation actually occurred is of course within the bounds\nof geological possibility, if we take the precaution to date the\nincident far enough back, to remote and prehistoric days. There is\nlittle credence to be attached to the local traditions, which affirm\nthat fishermen on a calm, clear day, have seen the ruins of house and\ncastle, cottage and farm, covered with dulse instead of stonecrop; or\nthe shattered spires of one or two of the reputed \"hundred and twenty\nchurches\". If such a kingdom ever existed it was long before the\nmediaeval era, and a spired church belongs to the Gothic period.\n\nSir Richard Carew, the friend and contemporary of Raleigh and of\nCampden, assures us not only that proofs of the lost kingdom remained in\nhis day, but that the fishermen's nets frequently brought up portions of\n\"doors and windows\" from the submerged houses.\n\nAt the same time there is probably a certain rough truth in the old\nlegends, the details having been added from time to time. As Mr. Arthur\nSalmon says: \"When we speak of a lost Lyonesse we are not dealing with\nabsurdities. We must only be careful to date it far enough backward, or\nrather to leave it without date. It is an alluring vision on which we\ncan linger without the sense of being actually unhistoric.\"\n\nCertain is it that if we examine _The Life and Death of Prince Arthur_,\nthe _History of Merlin_, or the _Mort d'Arthur_, we shall find\n\"Cornewaile\" and \"The Lyonesse\" spoken of with an airy indifference as\nto their geographical limits. Thus it may possibly be that, by the title\nof Lyonesse, Leonois, or any other of the various renderings of the\nname, it was intended to cover such portion of the west country as lay\nbeyond that part of Devonshire, which, down to so late as the year 410\nof the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, continued to be known as Cornwall.\n\nIt is well worth while to stay the night at the little hostel near the\nLand's End for the purpose of viewing this westernmost piece of England\nunder the magic spell of a stormy sunset or a misty dawn. The sun sinks\nbeyond the vast expanse of open, wide, and illimitable sea, heaving with\na deep and mysterious ground swell as the long waves roll shorewards.\nBetween the great pinnacles of rock blue chasms yawn and pass away, and\nthe bases of the nearer rocks are momentarily hidden by the foam of the\nsurging waves.\n\nFar out, far beyond where the Longships lighthouse blinks its warning\nlight over the waste of waters, a solitary ship goes down into the\nwestern horizon; and the golden clouds of summer follow her, one by one,\ninto the bosom of the night.\n\nThe holiday season, with its bands of health-seeking and somewhat noisy\ntourists, is not the best time of the year for a visit to Land's End. As\na show place it has been compelled to provide certain conveniences for\nthe traveller, and these jarring notes of modernity are rather\naggressive. There is much to be said for Mr. W. H. Hudson's plea for a\nnational fund that shall purchase the Land's End; but one fears much\nwater will have flowed around the historic headland before a \"Society\nfor the Preservation of Noble Landscape\" becomes an accomplished fact.\n\nAbout a mile from the cliffs stands the rocky little islet of Carn Bras,\nwhereon is situated the Longships lighthouse. Although such a short\ndistance away this lighthouse, and that on the Wolf Rock seven miles\noff, are frequently cut off from all communication with the mainland by\nstress of weather. The submerged crags that fringe this portion of the\ncoast are many, while the larger of those whose jagged points appear\nabove the water, are the Armed Knight, the Irish Lady, and Enys Dodman,\nthe last being pierced by a fine natural arch about forty feet in\nheight. The Cornish name for the Armed Knight was \"An Marogeth Arvowed\",\nand it was also called Guela or Guelaz, the \"rock easily seen\".\n\nTo enjoy fully these western cliffs, one should stay in the locality for\nsome days; be on the spot at all hours, see the mists of morning and the\nmellow tints of evening when all is calm and peaceful. At such times\nthose who love the sea breezes, and the hoary rocks bearded with moss\nand lichen; those who are fond of the legends and traditions of the\npast, will find much to interest them at the Land's End. It is a\nfavourite spot with artists, many of whom come year after year to depict\nits frowning cliffs and heaving belt of sea, for, curiously enough, the\ngrandest effects of the waves are frequently seen in calm weather, when\nthe heavy ground swell causes the waves to break with great force on the\nrocks.\n\nIn his criticism on Turner's picture of the Land's End, Ruskin wrote:\n\n\n     \"At the Land's End there is to be seen the entire disorder of the\n     surges, when every one of them, divided and entangled among\n     promontories as it rolls, and beaten back post by post from walls\n     of rock on this side and that side, recoils like the defeated\n     division of a great army, throwing all behind it into disorder,\n     breaking up the succeeding waves into vertical ridges, which, in\n     their turn, yet more totally shattered upon the shore, retire in\n     more hopeless confusion, until the whole surface of the sea becomes\n     one dizzy whirl of rushing, writhing, tortured, undirected rage,\n     bounding and crashing, and coiling in an anarchy of enormous power,\n     subdivided into myriads of waves, of which every one is not, be it\n     remembered, a separate surge, but part and portion of a vast one,\n     actuated by eternal power, and giving in every direction the mighty\n     undulation of impetuous line, which glides over the rocks and\n     writhes in the wind, overwhelming the one and piercing the other\n     with the form, fury, and swiftness of lambent fire.\"\n\n\n[Illustration: PENZANCE FROM NEWLYN HARBOUR]\n\n\n\n\nLAND'S END TO NEWQUAY\n\n\nNo visitor to Cornwall can fail to notice the remarkable number of\nwells, situated near stone circles, dolmens, cromlechs, or churches that\nhave replaced them in more modern times, for well-worship was\nundoubtedly one of the most persistent of the pagan customs with which\nthe early Christian missionaries had to deal. Sir Norman Lockyer\nwrites:--\"It seems to be accepted now that well-worship in Britain\noriginated long before the Christian era; that it was not introduced by\nthe Christian missionaries, but rather they found it in vogue on their\narrival, and tolerated it at first and utilized it afterwards, as they\ndid a great many other pagan customs.\"\n\nIt is of course quite easy to understand how a once devout custom\ndegenerated into mere superstition, how some wells came to be called\n\"wishing wells\", &c., in which the modern village maidens drop their\npins, in much the same way as their pagan ancestors left offerings to\ninvoke the aid of the tutelary saint.\n\nThe superstitions attached to the wells of Cornwall are as strong\nto-day as ever they were in the past, and there seems little reason to\ndoubt that the good condition of wells, cromlechs, and other antiquities\nin the county, is due to the widespread traditions that dreadful harm\nwill befall those who disturb or mutilate any ancient remains.\n\nSennen Cove lying immediately to the north of Land's End is a very\ncharming little spot that shows signs of becoming a fashionable\nwatering-place. The church, situated a mile inland, is dedicated to St.\nSenan or Senannus, one of those numerous Irish saints who showed such a\npredilection for the land of Cornwall. It is a low, weather-beaten\nstructure with a good tower, and standing nearly 400 feet above the\nlevel of the sea, it forms a conspicuous land- and sea-mark. Within,\nthere is a mutilated alabaster figure that is thought to have\nrepresented the Virgin and Child, and a small piece of mural painting.\nEast of the church, a few yards from the roadside, and near the end of a\nsmall cottage, is the stone known as the Table Men, a block of granite\nnearly eight feet in length, and three feet high. The word \"main\", or\n\"men\", is the old Cornish for \"stone\". Here, according to tradition, a\ngreat battle took place between King Arthur and some Danish invaders,\nand the stone is also said to have been used as a royal dining table,\nwhen the number of kings who dined here is given by some old\ntopographers as three, while others speak of seven. Hals gives their\nnames as follows: \"Ethelbert, fifth king of Kent; Cissa, second king of\nthe South Saxons; Kingills, sixth king of the West Saxons; Sebert, third\nking of the East Saxons; Ethelfred, seventh king of the Northumbers;\nPenda, ninth king of the Mercians; and Sigebert, fifth king of the East\nAngles; who all flourished about the year 600\". Merlin, the Wizard, who\nappears to have prophesied something about every nook in the kingdom,\nforetold that a yet larger number of kings will assemble around this\nrock for a similar purpose on the destruction of the world. A rock near\nLanyon Cromleh claims a similar honour, and the same story is attached\nto another at Bosavern in the parish of St. Just.\n\nSennen Cove is situated on the curve of Whitesand Bay, which terminates\nto the northward in the fine bluff headland of Cape Cornwall. It was\nonce a favourite spot for smugglers and wreckers, and here Athelstan,\nafter his final defeat of the Cornish, started to conquer the Scilly\nIsles. Stephen landed here on his first arrival in England, as did\nPerkin Warbeck when he sought to seize the crown he claimed. King John\nis also said to have landed here on his return from Ireland. Cape\nCornwall, a mile and a half from the village, is one of the most\nprominent headlands of the western coast, but being in the\nneighbourhood of the great mining district it is somewhat neglected by\nvisitors, a remark that applies to the whole of this portion of the\ncoast as far as St. Ives, the great exception being Gurnards' Head. The\ninland country is bleak and barren, with a number of mining shafts\ncapping the hillocks, with the result that the uninviting hinterland has\ninspired few people with the desire to explore a really grand and rocky\npiece of coast.\n\nNearly a mile south-west of Cape Cornwall are the Brisons, two fearful\nand dangerous rocks, rising about seventy feet above high-water mark.\nBrison is Cornish for prison, and tradition affirms that these rocks\nwere once used as prisons.\n\nNorth of the cape is Kenidjack headland, Porthleden being the name of\nthe cove that divides the promontories. Skirting the coast from\nKenidjack many fine bits of rocky scenery are passed. Botallack Head,\nwith its old engine houses perched on its rocky crags, has a singularly\nsavage appearance. The mine is one of the oldest in Cornwall, and the\nancient workings continued for a considerable distance under the bed of\nthe sea. The Levant, another submarine mine to the north, has also\nconsiderable workings beneath the sea.\n\n[Illustration: IN THE HARBOUR, NEWLYN]\n\nThe next point of interest is Pendeen, or Pendinas, the \"castled\nheadland\", near to which is Pendeen House, now a farm, but once a\nseventeenth-century manor house, in which the celebrated Cornish\nhistorian and antiquary, Dr. William Borlase, was born in 1695. He\ncorresponded with Pope to whom on one occasion he sent a Cornish\ndiamond, which was thus acknowledged by the poet: \"I have received your\ngift, and have so placed it in my grotto, that it will resemble the\ndonor, in the shade, but shining\". The famous cave called the Pendeen\nVau, was discovered a few yards from his home. For his day he was quite\nan enlightened antiquary, and although modern research has shown his\n_Antiquities of Cornwall_ to be full of pitfalls for the unwary, it is a\nbook that has formed the basis for many an interesting volume on the\ncounty. The church of Pendeen occupies as bleak a site as could anywhere\nbe found in England. It was designed and built by Robert Aitken the\nfamous Cornish missioner. It was fashioned on the plan of the ancient\ncathedral of Iona, and was built almost entirely by the people\nthemselves.\n\nA little eastward of Pendeen is the church town of Morvah, \"the place by\nthe sea\", which has traditions relating to mermaids. Northward is\nPorthmorna, or Porth Moina, the Monk's Port, formed on one side by the\nfine cliff of Bosigran, where the rocks of granite have a pale reddish\ntint; so that when lit up by the sun they have a very brilliant\nappearance. A few years ago the bleak hills and towering cliffs in this\nlocality were a favourite haunt of the peregrine falcon, the cliff hawk,\nwhile the blue rock dove, and Baillon's crake have been found in the\ndistrict. Bosigran lies just under Cairn Galva, whose boldly-formed\noutline is a conspicuous landmark. Just beyond Porthmeor is the\nGurnard's Head, the finest and most romantic point on the north side of\nthe Land's End, and one of the show places of the county. The ancient\nname for the headland was Treryn Dinas. Portions of a small chapel\nremain on the isthmus, and there was once a holy well close by.\n\nThe village of Zennor, about a quarter of a mile distant, lies in a wild\nand stony district. Within the very interesting church are some quaint\nbench ends, one of which depicts a mermaid, complete with comb, mirror,\nand fishy tail, but the carving is of a very primitive order. On Zennor\nBeacon is the famous Zennor Quoit or Cromlech, the largest in Cornwall,\nand one of the finest in the country. Between Zennor and St. Ives a wild\ntract of country forms the parish of Towednack with an ancient church\nwithin which is a true chancel arch, a constructional feature that is of\nrare occurrence in Cornish churches.\n\nThe irregularly built little town of St. Ives, which has not inaptly\nbeen called the \"Art Centre of England\", is made up of two distinct\nparts. The older portion, which consists of oldfashioned houses, and\nnarrow tortuous streets, is situated on a low spit of land called the\n\"island\", while \"up-along\" on the higher ground above the station, is\nthe favourite and fashionable holiday resort. The ancient name of the\nplace, Porth Ia, perpetuates the memory of another Irish saint, Ia, who\nis claimed as a convert of St. Patrick, and who is said to have floated\nfrom the shores of the Emerald Isle to those of Cornwall on a miraculous\nleaf, \"by which\", Mr. Arthur Salmon tells us, \"is clearly meant a\ncoracle of the kind still to be seen in parts of Wales\". The cell of St.\nIa stood on the site of the present parish church, which is said to\ncontain her bones, and this saint is not to be confounded with those of\nSt. Ive, near Liskeard, or St. Ives in Huntingdonshire. The position of\nSt. Ives, on the western slope of an extensive bay, and with two\nremarkably fine sandy beaches, is one of uncommon beauty. The finest\nviews of the town and the neighbourhood are those obtained from the\ngrounds of the Tregenna Castle Hotel, and from the Battery Rocks.\n\nA lofty hill to the south of the town, has a pyramidical erection of\ngranite in memory of John Knill, born in 1733. The obelisk bears three\ninscriptions: \"Johannes Knill, 1782\"; \"I know that my Redeemer liveth\";\nand \"Resurgam\". After serving his apprenticeship to a solicitor, Knill\nbecame Collector of Customs, and afterwards Mayor of St. Ives. Long\nbefore his death, which took place in 1811, he erected this mausoleum on\nWorvas Hill, but it was never applied to its purpose, as he was buried\nin London. Among the provisions of a curious will he ordained that\n\"certain ceremonies should be observed once every five years, on the\nfestival of St. James the Apostle; ten pounds to be spent in a dinner\nfor the mayor, collector of Customs, and clergyman, and two friends to\nbe invited by each of them, making a party of nine persons, to dine at\nsome tavern in the borough; five pounds to be equally divided amongst\nten girls, natives of the borough and daughters of seamen, fishermen, or\ntinners, each of them not exceeding ten years of age, who shall, between\nten and twelve o'clock of the forenoon of that day, dance for a quarter\nof an hour at least, on the ground adjoining the mausoleum, and after\nthe dance sing the 100th Psalm of the old version, to the fine old tune\nto which the same was then sung in St. Ives Church; one pound to a\nfiddler who shall play to the girls while dancing and singing at the\nmausoleum, and also before them on their return home therefrom; two\npounds to two widows of seamen, fishers, or tinners of the borough,\nbeing sixty-four years old or upwards, who shall attend the dancing and\nsinging of the girls, and walk before them immediately after the\nfiddler, and certify to the mayor, collector of Customs, and clergyman,\nthat the ceremonies have been duly performed; one pound to be laid out\nin white ribbons for breast-knots for the girls and widows, and a\ncockade for the fiddler, to be worn by them respectively on that day and\non the Sunday following\". The observances have been duly carried out\nsince the death of John Knill. The next observance will be in 1911, and\nwhen once at St. Ives the present writer was fortunate enough to witness\nthe quaint ceremonies that are enacted every five years around the\nmausoleum of John Knill, who has succeeded in making a posthumous name\nfor himself at a very trifling cost.\n\n[Illustration: LAND'S END]\n\nIt was at St. Ives that Anders Zorn, the celebrated Swedish artist,\npainted his first picture with oils, a fine work that now hangs on the\nwalls of the Luxembourg. The sketcher from nature who clambers along\nthis rocky coast in search of colour notes or impressions, will\nperpetually experience the difficulty of not knowing where to halt,\nalways a difficult problem for a painter in a new territory. Many are\nthey who have seen the day draw to a close with nothing accomplished.\nThis is not the result of idleness, but on account of the feeling of\nexpectancy, the ever-alluring idea, that by going a little farther\nsomething really uncommon will be found. Points of interest innumerable\nwill be passed in the pursuit of this beautiful will-o'-the-wisp, this\nperfect composition which never can, and never will, materialize on\npaper or on canvas.\n\nHayle and Lelant are both worth visiting. The former has a fine beach\nfor bathing, and the latter is renowned for its golf course. Lelant is a\nvery ancient town whose fine old church is the mother church of both\nTowednack and St. Ives.\n\nRedruth and Camborne are important mining towns to which no one would go\nin search of the picturesque, and the bleak and barren surroundings may\nnot inaptly be called the \"Black Country\" of Cornwall. Gwennap Pit, near\nRedruth, was the natural amphitheatre where John Wesley preached with\nmarked success to thousands of Cornish miners. For the antiquary there\nare many interesting remains at Carn Brea, a rocky eminence overlooking\nthe town, and capped with a monument, erected in 1836, to Francis, Baron\nde Dunstanville and Basset, of Tehidy.\n\nThe best mine to explore, should one's tastes run in that direction, is\nthe Dolcoath Mine, near Camborne station. The mine yields both copper\nand tin, and has reached the depth of 2250 feet. Portreath is to a\ncertain extent the port of Redruth. The cliffs are rather fine and the\nseas exceptionally so in rough weather, but as a good deal of refuse\nwater from the mines is discharged here the result is that the sea for\na considerable distance is frequently tinged with a thick reddish\ncolour.\n\nBetween Portreath and St. Agnes the coast scenery is rendered very\nattractive by reason of the number of coves into which it is broken,\nsuch as Porth Towan, a very favourite spot with visitors.\n\nThe little town of St. Agnes is steadily growing in popularity, while\nSt. Agnes Beacon is of great geological interest, and from the summit a\nfine view is obtained of the Cornish coast from Trevose Head to St.\nIves.\n\nOpie, the painter, was a native of St. Agnes, where he was born in 1761.\nThe house is passed on the way to Perranporth, and is known as \"Harmony\nCottage\". Opie's artistic talent is said to have been first recognized\nby \"Peter Pindar\", when that worthy resided at Truro. A large number of\nhis early paintings may still be seen in many of the houses in the\nvicinity of his birthplace, although a considerable number have been\ncarried off by discerning collectors.\n\nA few years ago Perranporth was nothing but a small cluster of\nfishermen's cottages, but the fine stretches of golden sand and some\nimposing masses of arched rocks have brought many visitors, for whom\nincreased accommodation has had to be found. One and a half miles from\nPerran Round, an ancient amphitheatre, are portions of an old church,\nlong hidden in the sand, over which St. Piran, or St. Piranus officiated\nin the sixth century. The church of Perranporth is a chapel of ease to\nPerranzabuloe, i.e., _Piran-in-sabulo_.\n\nAlthough Max Mueller satisfied himself that St. Piran was a purely\nmythical figure, and that the word \"Piran\" meant merely a \"digger\",\nothers assure us that there is enough evidence to satisfy a court of law\nthat Piran was connected with the school founded by Patrick, and that in\nthe fifth century he was a missionary in Cornwall. Excavations are being\nmade constantly around this little church half-buried in the fine sand,\nand many important discoveries have resulted. There appears to be little\ndoubt that the church shares with Gwithian oratory the distinction of\nbeing the earliest Christian edifice of which any considerable portions\nremain in England. At the same time it is as well to bear in mind that\nthe part of the material structure revealed by the spade is some two\ncenturies later in date than St. Piran, the patron saint of the Tinners.\n\n[Illustration: IN ST. IVES HARBOUR]\n\n\"There is a charm in the Cornish coast which belongs to no other coast\nin the world.\" So wrote Dean Alford many years ago, and no portion of\nCornwall possesses greater charm than the section as seen from Newquay\nBeacon. Like so many of its neighbouring holiday resorts, Newquay was a\nvery small and not very well known little place until the Great Western\nRailway gave it four trains a day from London, advertised its charms in\nthe press, and depicted them in glowing colours on innumerable posters.\nThe result is that Newquay has boomed to such an extent that it is now\nthe great centre of attraction on the north coast. Twenty years ago\nNewquay was little more than a cluster of cottages, but so rapid has\nbeen its development that we seem to be centuries away from the days\nwhen there was no fashionable hotel on the Headland, and when the place\nwas reached along a jolting little mineral line from Par Junction.\n\nThe town itself is not old enough to be interesting, and as it possesses\nno \"front\" but few of its streets command a view of the bold\npromontories, fine beaches, tidal inlets, and the singularly blue sea,\nthat make it such an attractive place for a holiday.\n\nAs Mr. J. Henwood Thomas says: \"One of the chief glories of Newquay is\nits grand headland. Running right out into the Atlantic it forms a bold,\nnatural pier, in comparison with which the costly artificial piers which\nare to be found at most watering-places of repute are mere toys. Nothing\ncan be more exhilarating than a walk to the extreme end of this jagged\npromontory. It is like breathing a vitalizing essence.\"\n\nHere, on the beaches of Newquay and Fistral Bay, one may go to the\nverge of the waves, and breathe the ozone that rises from the line of\nbreakers, without the necessity of making detours to avoid fruit-stalls\nand bathing-saloons. Fortunately the fine sands around Newquay have not\nyet become a mart for sweetmeats and cocoanuts, nor are they the happy\nhunting ground of the negro minstrel and other troupes of fantastic\nentertainers.\n\nThe chief, and one might say the only glory of North Cornwall, is the\nmagnificent line of coast, particularly that portion of it bounded by\nBedruthan Steps on the one hand, and Watergate Bay on the other, with\nMawgan Porth and Beacon Cove lying between.\n\nAt low tides Watergate Bay has a splendid stretch of sands, more than\ntwo miles in length, and along the cliffs here sea-pinks, sea-lavender,\nand golden samphire may be found, although the last named is becoming\nextremely rare. The cliffs along this portion of the coast are pierced\nby numerous shady caves and caverns, some of which, like the Cathedral\nCavern and the one known as the Banqueting Hall, are of vast extent, and\nare not infrequently used for concerts and other entertainments held in\naid of local charities.\n\nIn spite of the necessary changes and improvements due to the ever\nincreasing number of visitors, there is still much that is primitive to\nbe seen around Newquay. Almost every ruin, rock, and church has its\nlegend, more or less ancient and authentic, and once off the beaten\ntrack there is much that will interest the lovers of saint and folklore,\nas well as the admirers of coast scenery of a bold and broken kind.\n\nAll visitors to Newquay make their way to Crantock \"churchtown\",\nsituated on the western side of the Gannel, a small tidal stream which\nis crossed by means of a plank bridge. The village of Crantock is\nancient and interesting, but the great attraction of the place is the\nchurch. Less than a dozen years ago the fabric was in a ruinous\ncondition until the vicar succeeded in raising sufficient funds with\nwhich to preserve the building. In his appeal for help, an appeal that\nwas well responded to by the visitors to Newquay, the vicar explained\nthat \"the foundation dates from the sixth century, when the Celtic\nBishop, Carantoc--or Cairnech--whose name the church bears and who was a\ncompanion of St. Patrick, first founded a religious cell here. The\nchurch became collegiate before the time of King Edward the Confessor,\nand continued so, with large endowment, until it was utterly despoiled,\nand its community scattered by King Henry VIII.\"\n\nThe circular font bears the date 1473, and many portions of early work,\nincluding the twelfth century walls and arches, are likewise to be seen\nwithin the building. The font, which is thought to be late Norman, bears\na date cut in bold relief on the side:--\n\n\n     \"ANNO DOMINI MILLESIMO CCCC^o Lxxiij (1473).\"\n\n\nThere were once small columns supporting the heads still to be seen at\neach angle, but these have disappeared.\n\nMr. Arthur Salmon tells us that tradition speaks of Crantock as having\nbeen once part of a large town or district named Langarrow, or sometimes\nLanguna, most of which now lies beneath the sand-towans. \"This town is\nsaid to have had many fine churches and buildings, vying with the best\ncities in the Britain of that day, which seems to have been the tenth\ncentury.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE CLIFFS, NEWQUAY]\n\nBe this as it may, and there is no doubt a good deal of truth in the\ntradition, we do know that until comparatively recent years the now\nsand-choked estuary of the Gannel had a sufficient depth of water for\nfishing craft and coasting schooners; while old historians assure us\nthat the channel could at one time be navigated by ships of large\ntonnage. It is quite possible that the \"new quay\" of the now fashionable\nwatering-place owes its existence to the silting-up of the estuary that\ngave access to the old quay at Crantock. In Carew's _Survey of Cornwall_\nreference is made to \"newe Kaye, a place in the north coast of this\nHundred (Pider), so called, because in former times, the neighbours\nattempted, to supplie the defect of nature, by art, in making there a\nKay, for the Rode of shipping\".\n\nAn old well in the centre of the village is said to be a \"holy\" one, but\nthis has been disputed by antiquaries.\n\nThe weird and uncanny cry of the \"Gannel Crake\" is heard by everyone who\nwoos the charms of a romantic coast after the sun has set beyond the\nwestern sea. It is said to be the cry of some species of night gull, but\nis traditionally referred to by the superstitious natives as the cry of\na troubled spirit that ever haunts the scene.\n\nA short distance inland from the porth is St. Columb Minor, the church\nof which, together with that of St. Columb Major some six miles farther\ninland is said to be dedicated to Columba, a maiden saint who is not to\nbe confounded with the great Irish saint of the same name. St. Columb\nMinor is the mother parish of Newquay and possesses a fine late\nDecorated church with a remarkably good western tower, said to be the\nsecond highest tower in the county. The village is quite a large one\nfrom which some fine views of the coast may be obtained. Close at hand\nis Rialton, from which the statesman Sidney Godolphin took his title,\nand where, in the surrounding park and dells, many sketches were made by\nStansfield, when he visited the district with his friend Charles\nDickens.\n\nRialton Priory is a much desecrated building that once belonged to the\npriory of Bodmin, it having been erected towards the end of the\nfifteenth century by Thomas Vivian, prior of Bodmin. In 1840 someone\ncarried off a large amount of the priory's ancient stonework to\nSomerset, where it was placed in private grounds, but the Crown made an\norder for it to be returned and re-erected at Rialton.\n\nSt. Columb Major occupies the crown of an eminence, the conjectured site\nof a Danish fortress. The church is large, mainly early Decorated, and\nof much beauty. In the chancel is the pre-Reformation stone altar,\nmarked with the five crosses, and supported on slabs of granite. This\nhad been buried beneath the floor and was discovered during some\nrestorations in 1846. Other noteworthy features are the window of the\nsouth transept and the grotesque carvings that adorn the font. There are\nalso three good brasses commemorating members of the Arundell family.\n\nThe whole of this neighbourhood is famous for its \"hurlers\" and\n\"wrestlers\", a memento of which could be seen at the Red Lion a few\nyears ago, for here the landlord used to exhibit with pride the silver\npunchbowl given to his grandfather (Polkinhorne) when that worthy\nescaped defeat in a wrestling bout with Cann, the champion of the\nadjoining county of Devon.\n\nThe art of wrestling appears to have died out, but the once popular game\nof hurling is revived once a year, either in the village itself or along\nthe sands towards Newquay. The ball used is about the size of a cricket\nball, and after being coated with silver is inscribed:--\n\n\n     \"St. Columb Major and Minor,\n       Do your best;\n     In one of your parishes\n       I must rest.\"\n\n\nAt one time the game was very common throughout Cornwall, and many\ninteresting records relating to it are in existence; but at the present\nday only the two parishes of St. Columb keep up a survival of this\nancient game.\n\nThe whole of the St. Columb district is rich in large tracts of wild and\npicturesque country, which include such heights as Denzell Downs, St.\nIssey Beacon, and St. Breock Downs, near which last stand the \"Naw\nMean\", or, in modern English, the Nine Maidens. At the present time\nthere are but eight of these upright stones, which tradition asserts\nwere originally maidens who were turned into stone for dancing on Sunday\nto the strains of a fiddler, who shared the same fate, as witness a tall\npillar of rock near by called the \"Fiddler\".\n\nOn the drive from Newquay to Bedruthan Steps no one should fail to make\na halt at Mawgan, or, to be strictly accurate, St. Mawgan in Pydar,\neither on the outward or the return journey. The village is a pretty one\nthat lies in the centre of the beautiful Vale of Mawgan, or Lanherne,\nwhich stretches from St. Columb to the porth, or cove on the coast.\nMawgan possesses an ancient parish church and a Roman Catholic convent\nand chapel. The church is a very fine Perpendicular building with a\ntower 70 feet in height. The building was restored by Butterfield, but\ncontains some interesting old screenwork and a number of well-carved\nbench ends. The brasses include that of a priest, _circa_ 1420; Cecily\nArundell, 1578; a civilian, _circa_ 1580; and Jane, daughter of Sir John\nArundell, _circa_ 1580. This last is a palimpsest, made up of portions\nof two Flemish brasses, _circa_ 1375. The churchyard contains a\nbeautifully sculptured fourteenth-century lantern cross, of mediaeval\ndate, in the form of an octagonal shaft. Under four niches at the summit\nare sculptured representations of: God the Father with the Dove bearing\na crucifix; an Abbot; an Abbess; and a King and Queen. The height of\nthe cross is 5 feet 2 inches, the breadth of the head being 1 foot 1\ninch.\n\nThe convent, the \"lone manse\" of Lanherne, was originally the manor\nhouse of the Arundells, which was, in the last years of the eighteenth\ncentury, presented by a Lord Arundell of Wardour to a sisterhood of\nCarmelite nuns who had fled from Antwerp in 1794. One or two of the\npictures in the convent chapel are attributed to Rubens. Strangers may\nattend service in the chapel, but the nuns, like those of the order of\nSt. Bridget at Syon Abbey, Chudleigh, are recluses of the strictest\nkind.\n\nWhile at Mawgan a stroll should be taken through the groves of\nCarnanton, the old-time abode of William Noye, the \"crabbed\"\nAttorney-General to Charles I, whose heart, we are told by his\nbiographers, was found at his death to have become shrivelled up into\nthe form of a leather purse.\n\nA mile beyond Mawgan Porth are the far-famed Bedruthan Steps seven miles\nfrom Newquay. Here the visitor will find a fine stretch of cliff\nscenery, with a succession of sandy beaches strewn with confused and\nbroken masses of rock, and some large caverns that are well worth\nexploring should the state of the tide permit. The largest of these\ncaverns is of vast extent and is said to be unrivalled in this respect\nalong the whole of the Cornish seaboard. At low tide the great spurs of\nrock embedded in the sand have a fantastic beauty, while one of the\nlargest of them bears a more than fancied resemblance to Queen\nElizabeth, and is named after her. Another is known as the Good\nSamaritan, as against these jagged points an East Indiaman of this name\nonce came to grief, when the local women folk are said to have\nreplenished their wardrobes with a quantity of fine silks and satins.\n\nThe coast beyond Bedruthan, by Trevose and Pentire Heads, Padstow,\nTintagel, Boscastle, Bude, and Morwenstowe, although abounding in wild\nand rugged scenery, and full of romantic and literary associations, is\nbeyond our present limits. This being so we may conclude with the words\nof J. D. Blight, one of the most learned of the older school of Cornish\nantiquaries:\n\n\n     \"Those who wish to behold nature in her grandest aspect, those who\n     love the sea breezes, and the flowers which grow by the cliffs, the\n     cairns and monumental rocks, all hoary and bearded with moss, those\n     who are fond of the legends and traditions of old, and desire to\n     tread on ground sacred to the peculiar rites and warlike deeds of\n     remote ages, should visit the land of Old Cornwall.\"","title":"The Cornish Riviera","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":14050}