Nooks and Corners of Cornwall

King Dungarth and King Alfred

It is pleasant, after following the footsteps of an English king so foolish that his people out of sheer exasperation presently rose up and slew him, to come upon traces of one whom the nation, from his day even until now, has blessed and called great. To the north of Liskeard lies the big parish of St. Neot, once called Gueryr, and St. Neot, 'tis said, was a near relative of King Alfred, a relative noted for sanctity and of whom many wonderful stories are told. He appears to have been on friendly terms with Dungarth, King of Cornwall, who lived at Liskeard, and at whose palace Alfred stayed in order to hunt the red deer on the surrounding moors. Nor was it only for the hunting that Alfred came to Liskeard. Gueryr, St. Neot's fellow saint, was supposed to have had some medical knowledge, and the King, delicate from boyhood, was in bad health. He went across the moors to pray, and possibly to bathe in the spring of clear water, still known as the well of St. Neot; and as faith in the doctor is half the battle we may hope his ills were alleviated. Dungarth—a fine monarch we must believe or else no friend to Alfred—was drowned in the River Fowey when hunting near Redgate, 875. In the parish of St. Cleer is a fractured granite pillar about 8 ft. high, and in digging near, a second fragment was found, inscribed in Latin, "Doniert (possibly Dungarth) asks you to pray for his soul."

To think that a thousand and odd years ago, Alfred was staying in this little old market town with a friend; that they were planning hunting expeditions; and that Dungarth was recommending his own doctor—"just like any other man." How queer it all is and how little human nature changes.

The corporation at Liskeard has some interesting silver, and in the church is a monument to Joseph Wadham said to have been "the last of that family whose ancestors were the founders of Wadham College, Oxford." This church is unique in Cornwall in having thirteen fifteenth-century consecration crosses cut on the north and south aisles. In the town is Stuart House, where Charles I. stayed for about a week in 1644.

A little south of Liskeard, on the way to Menheniot, is Clicker Tor, a mass of serpentine rock resembling the rocks of the Lizard. That beautiful heath (Erica vagans) that grows on the serpentine is found here.

Menheniot

Until the introduction—at the wish of the Cornish—of the English liturgy during the reign of Henry VIII., the ancient tongue was the language of the county. Dr. Mooreman, Vicar of Menheniot from 1530 to 1554, was the first parson in Cornwall to teach his parishioners the Lord's Prayer, the Belief and the Commandments in English. Nowadays, while it is not uncommon in Wales—which had only the Welsh liturgy—to hear the "Dim Sassenach," which means that some old person is unable or unwilling to speak English, the Cornish equivalent, "Mee a navidra cowza Sawzneck," has been entirely forgotten.

Menheniot (after St. Columb Major) is the most valuable benefice in the county, and the church possesses two interesting flagons of sixteenth-century Lambeth stoneware, with lid and collar of silver dated 1578 and 1581.

St. Keyne

On the other side of the valley, not far from the famous old mine of Herodsfoot, is the Well of St. Keyne. Over it, in an astonishingly small space, are five trees, oak, elm, and ash, and although these were planted in 1750, it was only in the place of older trees mentioned in 1602. Concerning the water of this celebrated well, it is fabled that if after marriage the wife should drink of its waters before her husband she shall have the mastery and vice-versa. Southey's ballad tells us of a bride who took some to church with her in a bottle and drank it while her husband was running to the well.

At Duloe is a circle which probably encloses a burial place. The stones are all of quartz, which is unusual, and they are large, the biggest being 8 ft. high and 7 ft. wide. In this church lies gallant old Sir John Arundell, the defender of Pendennis Castle.

Looe

East and West Looe are two quaint fishing-villages divided by the estuary and joined by a bridge. They are, as usual, huddled together as near the bottom of their hills as possible and consist of a few crooked and narrow streets, with houses built anyhow and anywhere. Like Fowey, they look as if presently they might slip a little, make a tiny splash, and disappear into the water, to be talked of by succeeding generations as a "great city of seven churches and thousands of inhabitants that for some forgotten crime on the part of its people had been overwhelmed by a sea wave," and to prove this thing they would quote from the Chronicle (not the Saxon this time but the Daily), "in this year came that great sea flood, widely through this land, and it ran up so far as never at any time before, and it drowned many towns and mankind too innumerable to be computed."

A Cage for Scolds

Meanwhile East and West Looe still lie poised insecurely above the tide, while donkeys laden with panniers scramble up the precipitous streets, and in this way your groceries and so forth come to your door. It is thoroughly in keeping with the place that the old ducking stool and they say the cage for scolds should still exist. About the latter Mr. Bond tells the following appropriate story:

"At East Looe Hannah Whit and Bessy Niles, two women of fluent tongue, having exerted their oratory on each other, at last thought it prudent to leave the matter in dispute to be settled by the Mayor. Away they posted to his worship. The first who arrived had scarce begun her tale when the other bounced in, in full rage, and began hers likewise, and abuse commenced with redoubled vigour. His worship, Mr. John Chubb, ordered the constable to be called and each of the combatants thought her antagonist was going to be punished, and each thought right. When the constable arrived, his worship pronounced to him the following command: 'Take these women to the cage, and there keep them till they have settled their dispute.' They were immediately conveyed thither, and after a few hours' confinement became as quiet and inoffensive beings as ever breathed, and were then liberated to beg Mr. Mayor's pardon."

Looe Island and the Smugglers

Except the Scillies, the only inhabited island of Cornwall is St. George (or Looe Island). It measures fourteen acres and was once exceedingly useful to smugglers. Not many years since, the floor of a respectable looking building gave way, and the reason thereof became apparent when it was found that it had been hollowed underneath to form a receptacle for those good spirits which came from France by way of the Looe galleys. The most wonderful hiding-place in this part of the country is the now well-known duckpond, said to have been at Lansallos, near Polperro. This swung on a pivot, and when moved disclosed a cavity. At all other times it presented an innocently rural appearance, so much so that the preventive officers often sat, all unsuspiciously, within a few feet of it.

East of East Looe is the little hamlet of Crafthole, with two crosses, one known locally as "Stump Cross," a fine specimen of a plain Latin cross with chamfered angles, and another of earlier date with a broken top. This bay, which stretches from Looe to Penlee, was once a valley filled with trees, but, as Florence of Worcester says, "The sea comes out upon the shore and buries towns and men very many, oxen and sheep innumerable."

The Armada

It is a quiet strip of coast, yet it was here between Rame Head and the Dodman, that on a breezy Sunday morning the Spaniards of the Armada first caught sight of the English fleet under Lord Howard of Effingham, and the volunteer flotilla that was led by Francis Drake. The Spanish plan was to divide fleet from flotilla, but as the light English boats could sail closer to the wind and were generally more easy to handle, it met with little success. The Spanish admiral was soon to discover that his little enemy's guns could carry further than his own, thus enabling the English to remain out of reach and yet pour in their raking broadsides. The light winds blew from the east, and the opposing navies fired and drifted and fired again, passing the Rame, passing Plymouth, and drifting up the coast. The engagement lasted till late on that Sunday afternoon, and later still the Capitana, first fruits of the demoralising tactics of the English, was towed into Dartmouth harbour.

"Keepe then the sea, about in special,
Which of England is the towne wall,
Keepe then the sea that is the wall of England,
And then is England kept by Goddes hand...."

In other words: "God helps those who help themselves."

Sheviock

Above Crafthole lies Sheviock, on one of the creeks of the Lynher, with a good fourteenth-century church. The Dawneys were lords of Sheviock, and we have it from Carew that while the husband was building the church, his more practical wife was erecting a barn. When they came to compare accounts it was found that the lady's expenditure had exceeded her lord's by three half-pence, "and so it might well fall, for it is a great barn and a very little church."

The Eddystone

Henry VII., when Earl of Richmond, is said to have landed near Rame Head, and seeing that he had in his train such energetic Cornishmen as Sir Richard Edgcumbe and Sir Hugh Trevanion, men who could help him to a good few of their relatives and retainers, no doubt he was well advised. From the headland can be seen the Eddystone, which is nine miles south. This ridge of rocks is a mile long, but has only one small rock appearing above the water and has for ages been the terror of seamen. The first lighthouse was built in 1699, and four years later was swept away by a storm. A second, built in 1708, was burnt in 1755. The third, built by Smeaton in 1759, resisted the wind and weather for over a hundred years. The rocks on which it was built were then found to be giving way, and it was removed to Plymouth Hoe, and a new and higher lighthouse built on another part of the ridge.

Mount Edgcumbe

The Rame forms the outer boundary of Plymouth Harbour; Penlee Point the western boundary of the sound; and a little to the north lies Mount Edgcumbe, which, though few people seem to know it, is in Cornwall. This interesting house was built in the time of Mary, but the park dates from Henry VIII., when the property came to the Edgcumbes by marriage. The grounds contain a great number of fortifications, from the battery and blockhouse built to oppose the Spanish Armada to more modern defences. The second Lord Edgcumbe, when a boy, was the friend of Sir Joshua Reynolds, a friendship which has resulted in the family portraits of three generations being painted by that artist. The house is as beautifully situated as the grounds are worth seeing and is on the end of a promontory several miles long and three wide.

The Tamar

The Tamar and Torridge spring from a rushy knoll on the eastern wilds of Morwenstow, three miles from the sea. From that, practically the most northern spot in the county, the larger river with some windings flows south, forming the eastern boundary of the county. It finally widens into the Hamoaze and, by way of Plymouth Sound, finds its way into the sea. Many are the bridges and ferries from the one county to the other, and every army that has come to invade, to subjugate, or even to punish the insurgent west, must have come by way of this peaceful stream. The first ferry is at Tor Point, where the Tamar is about a mile wide. It was the old coach route and thither came the people who would catch the packet at Falmouth, thither also in yet earlier times came the Cornish pack-horses, laden with tin at their going and merchandise on their return. It was the highway when roads were only tracks and the boats in which men voyaged were of wattle covered with hide. Now it is crossed by a "steam bridge" which starts every quarter of an hour!

Where another ferry crosses the estuary of the Lynher is the church and village of Antony East. Carew, whose amusing Survey supplies us with so many stories of old Cornwall, is buried here, the doggerel verses on his monument having been found in his pocket, after his sudden death when at prayer in his study. There is also a memorial to Margery Arundell, which is of interest, as it is the only example in the county of a canopied brass.

Trematon Castle

When Robert, Duke of Normandy, died, Arlette, the tanner's daughter, was sought in wedlock by one Herlwin, and in due course she bore him two sons, Odo, afterwards Bishop of Bayeux, and Robert, whom she named after the unforgotten lover of her youth. These twain, worthy half-brothers of the stern and rigorous Bastard, rode one on each side of him at the battle of Hastings—that fatal battle which delayed for so many years the consummation of our English liberties! Over against the Normans were the equally loyal brethren of Harold, the King. But William's star was in the ascendant, and two at least of the sons of Godwin and Gytha were among the slain. As soon as the Conqueror was firmly settled on the throne that he had seized, he bethought him of his favourite brother and added to Robert's earldom by the Breton march the more famous earldom of the kindred land of Cornwall. Robert of Mortain, riding gaily down to the west, found a wealth of manors awaiting him and two castles—afterwards to be mentioned in Domesday—those of Launceston and Trematon.

Trematon is on the Lynher which, rising near Five Lanes towards the centre of the county, flows steadily south until it is joined by the Tidy near Ince Castle, (the only sixteenth-century brick house in the county), and with a sharp easterly turn flows broadly and genially into the Tamar below Saltash. Above its placid waters rises the old keep, the keep that was built to keep the unruly Cornish in order. Tintagel, Restormel, and Launceston are ruinous, but Trematon is still in fairly good repair. The wall crossing the motte is of early date, probably thirteenth century, while the archway of the square entrance tower carries portcullis grooves, and the keep, once 70 ft. by 50 ft., is still about 30 ft. in height. The castle with its park and manor and the borough of Saltash was granted by Edward III. to the Dukes of Cornwall for ever. It is not generally known that in some respects this dukedom differs from all others. The eldest son of the reigning sovereign is the duke, and he comes of age as soon as he is born and preserves all the rights of the dukedom without patent of creation; the essential difference between this and the princedom of Wales being that the latter is specially conferred by the sovereign.

St. Germans

Not far from Trematon is St. Germans, birthplace of the famous Sir John Eliot, after whom Port Eliot was called. This worthy, though consistently loyal to Charles I., opposed that monarch's illegalities and died in the prison to which he was consequently consigned. He was one of the noblest of the fine band of Cornishmen who came to the front at that period of the nation's history, an honest, just, and fearless man. Port Eliot, though charmingly situated where the Tidy widens into a lake, is otherwise only interesting on account of its pictures, of which there are several by Sir Joshua Reynolds.

St. Germans is thought to have been the seat of the ancient bishopric of Cornwall, but there is no evidence in support of the theory. The "see," or bishop-stool as it was called by our fathers, was nothing more than the seat of the bishop, the church in which it rested being his cathedral church. In early times the bishop was generally attached to some monastery or else he moved from place to place, taking his "seat" with him. In course of time, a suitable place being found, the see would become fixed, but there is no evidence of any fixed see in this county until 1877, when it was placed at Truro.

Markets

The following entry in the exchequer book at the time of the Domesday survey marks one of the contrasts between then and now: "In this manor there is a market on Sunday, but it is reduced to nothing on account of the Earl of Mortain's market, which is very near thereto." Robert, Earl of Mortain and Cornwall, held his market by his Castle of Trematon, and so we are confronted with two markets on a Sunday in Sabbatarian Cornwall! The boldness of the folk, with all those petrified pipers and fiddlers and merry maidens to point a moral! And to think that nothing happened.

A good deal of water has flowed under Tamar bridges since those days. In the reign of Henry VIII. Andrew Furlong, priest and schoolmaster at Saltash, was imprisoned for having a Bible in his possession—and this is the tercentenary of that Bible's translation into the vulgar tongue. Verily times have changed.

Saltash

From the Hoe to Saltash, low hills flank an estuary of great width which narrows sharply where Brunel's triumph, the Royal Albert Bridge, spans the flood. This great railway bridge, which was opened by the Prince Consort in 1859, cost over three-quarters of a million and is still one of the wonders of engineering.

Saltash suffered considerably during the wars between King and Parliament. It was taken and retaken any number of times, occupied by first one party and then the other, fortified, attacked, and generally treated with scant courtesy. It has several points of interest; an old shop dated 1584, fine corporation regalia, a church containing a very ancient font bowl (brought from Wadgworthy), and an exquisite silver vessel of 1624 now used as a communion cup.

Moditonham

This part of the county is noted for its strawberries, its gooseberries, and for a sweet kind of small cherry called mazzards.

"Let Uter Pendragon do what he can
The Tamar water will run as it ran,"

says the Celtic proverb, embodying no doubt some forgotten story. It is certainly a fine sheet of water above Saltash and he would be a bold man who would seek to divert its flow. Not far from the town is the manor of Moditonham, which was built not long after the Restoration by Colonel Waddon, who, from long residence abroad, had gathered a love of foreign architecture, and who chose for his model a French château. John Grenville, Sir Beville's son (who attended Charles II. in all his wanderings, was sent by him to negotiate with Monk, and was King's messenger with his letter to the Parliament), had been made Earl of Bath and Governor of both Pendennis and Plymouth. He was the most loyal of Charles's subjects, but under James II. his long faith wavered, and it was at Moditonham that, with Colonel Waddon, the Deputy Governor of Pendennis, he treated with the commissioner of the Prince of Orange. His brother, Denis Grenville, Dean of Durham, less wise, but more loyal, followed James over seas and died in exile.

Paleologus

The river winds in such deep curves above Botus-fleming that Landulph is almost surrounded by its waters. In the quiet churchyard lies Theodore Paleologus, the last descendant of the Christian emperors of the east. Some years ago the vault in which he lies was accidentally opened and it was seen that he had been a tall man with a long head and a beard of unusual dimensions. During his lifetime this man, who might have been an emperor, had been reduced to such straits of poverty, that he had written to that soldier of fortune, the first Duke of Buckingham, praying to be taken into his service. In the letter, which has been preserved, he pathetically describes himself as a gentleman, born of a good house, a soldier from his birth, accomplished and worthy of the name he bears, but unfortunate in the reverse of fortune.

Pentillie

Above Landulph the curving flood gradually narrows into the semblance of an ordinary river and goes softly between woods and orchards and farmlands till the finely placed grey towers of Pentillie, built by that eccentric charlatan, Sir William Tillie, come into view. It is a mistake to hurry through this scenery in the bustling steamer that ploughs up from Plymouth, gives you barely time to swallow a fine strawberry at Calstock and rushes back again. The Tamar, with its forest-clad declivities, its rocks and crags and cliffs, its long reaches of shining water fringed with deep green meadows and woodland, is essentially a river for the man with leisure. In the opinion of those who have seen both, the scenery far surpasses that of the belauded Dart. The production of arsenic has discoloured the water in parts, as the mine shafts have destroyed the sylvan charm of the shore, but this is only for a short distance above New Bridge, the New Bridge over which Essex so foolishly led his troops in 1644.

Cotehele

The Tamar is navigable for good sized vessels as far as the Weir Head, but that is away beyond first Cotehele and then Calstock, past Harewood, the most easterly part of the county, a peninsula which, like Landulph, is nearly an island, and even past the craggy Morwell Rocks.

Cotehele, a Tudor mansion, "antient, large, strong, and fayre," was once the chief seat of the Edgcumbe family. On the cliff can be seen the little chapel built by Richard Edgcumbe in gratitude for his escape from the myrmidons of Richard III. (see page 136). The chestnut trees in these woods are large and of great age, but suffered severely from the blizzard of 1891. Within the house is an interesting chapel with, under the pulpit, a small apartment, known as "the Leper's Room." In the vault, the mother of the first baron was buried (1742) while in a trance. "The knave of a sexton, the night after the funeral, broke open the coffin with intent to steal the rings which adorned the body, when, to his utter alarm, she who was thought to be dead opened her eyes and began to move; thereat the thief fled amain as though chased by the awakened spirit, leaving his lanthorn behind him, which served to light the lady out of the vault."

The simple brevity of the account is delightful. No nerves on the part of the dame, whose motto must have been "noblesse oblige." We picture her stepping gracefully out of her narrow bed, taking that lanthorn, so conveniently left, and in her white shroud making her way to the supper-room, where no doubt her sorrow-stricken descendants were sustaining life with beef and beer and bread. Were they really and truly glad to see her? She must have been a woman, not only of great presence of mind, but of strong character, and we, at this distance, can look back admiringly; but as to her dutiful and obedient children—well, one wonders.

Hingston Down

The New Bridge leads directly out to the high land of Hingston Down, where before stannary laws were enacted and coinage towns assigned, the tinners of Devon and Cornwall met on Kit Hill and held their parliament. During the fourteenth century difficulties arose, and after that only the Cornish came to the old earthwork for their debates. An interesting light is shed, by a speech of Sir Walter Raleigh's in Parliament, when Lord Warden of the Stannaries, on the men and their earnings. In those days it would appear that the pay of a working tinner was 4s. a week, finding himself. Of this Sir Walter boasts as a great change for the better inasmuch as previously the tinner had received but half that amount.

These hills used to be famous for their tin, hence the saying:

"Hingston Down well wrought
Is worth London Town, dear bought."

In 835 the Cornish were defeated by the men of Devon on this open ground, and some centuries later Charles I. crossed it on his way to try conclusions with Lord Essex. A little beyond Callington is St. Ive, one of the most lovely churches in the duchy. The east end and north side are fourteenth-century work of great merit, and the remainder is fifteenth century. The beautiful tower has clustered pinnacles, but the chief interest lies in the chancel window with its fine tracery, and the ogee-headed niches in the jambs of the scoinson arch, while some of the glass in the east window is of the same date as the tracery.

The river no longer curves in upon itself so frequently, but the landscape, deeply wooded and with the fine Carthamartha Rocks above the junction of the Inny with the Tamar, is softly beautiful. Greston Bridge crosses the river between Lezant and Lawhitton, and at Trecarrel House in the former, Charles I., with his army sleeping round him in the fields, lay on the night of August 1, 1644. At Lewannick, west of Lezant, a cresset stone has been preserved. This structure resembles a font, but with the top hollowed out into a number of bowls to contain oil and floating wicks. Before the days of matches, a light was kept perpetually burning in the church in order that the parishioners might resort to it, if by any chance their hearth-fires, always carefully sodded up, should be extinguished. Cresset stones are now rare. The one at Calder Abbey has sixteen bowls, but that at Furness resembles the one at Lewannick in having only five.

Polyfant

In this parish, at a little distance from the church town, is the famous stone quarry of Polyfant. The greater number of the Norman arches in this part of the county are made from this stone, the quarry having been worked for over a thousand years. There are three old crosses in this neighbourhood, the one at Holloway being of unusual design, while the "four-holed" cross at Trelaske has projections at the neck. Trelaske is a well-wooded and picturesque country-place, and contains the remains of an encampment, while the view from Trelaske Beacon is extensive. A couple of miles above Greston Bridge the river takes a bend almost at right angles to its former course, and runs east and west until it reaches Poulston Bridge, across which Charles I. led his army that never-to-be-forgotten August and marched on Launceston.

CHAPTER X

The Upper Reaches of the Tamar

Above Launceston, the Tamar soon has a companion in the shape of the Bude Canal, which was built at great cost, but is no longer worked. At Werrington, the river of that name joins the mother stream, after forming an artificial lake, and Werrington is also interesting as a place to which several bequests were made for the benefit of the poor and the support of a school. Many years ago the parish chest, which contained the donation deeds of these charities, was stolen from the church. After a long time and great hue and cry it was discovered built up into the wall of one of the houses and, of course, empty.

Boyton, a little north, is divided by the Tamar between Devon and Cornwall. Here lived Agnes Brest, brought to the stake 1557, the only one among the Cornish Protestants who was actually burnt. North Tamarton, like Boyton, has a piece of land on the other side of the river, but, unlike its neighbour, this portion was returned to Cornwall by an Act of Parliament in 1832. The church of St. Denis is worth a visit for the sake of the beautiful carving of the pulpit.

Launceston

These upper reaches of the Tamar are well stocked with trout, and Launceston which, though not on the river, has a stream of its own, not to speak of a special and personal canal, is a good centre for anglers as well as a most interesting old ruin of a place. Its ancient name was Dunheved, and a castle of some sort was crowning this great hill when William the Conqueror gave Cornwall to his half-brother, Robert of Mortain. The most noticeable thing about these Cornish fortifications is the frequency and ease with which they fell into a ruinous condition. Seeing that the walls are at their thinnest 3 ft. thick and elsewhere 10, one would have thought them capable of withstanding a little wind and weather. But the contrary was the case. The present ruins are mostly late Norman and Transition Norman of Henry III.'s time, but already in 1312, not a hundred years after they had replaced the older building, we find them calling urgently for repair; while, when the Black Prince came down to Cornwall in 1353 to make acquaintance with his duchy, for he took that as seriously and conscientiously as everything else, the stronghold was in a parlous condition. Yet it occupies a commanding position and was evidently a place of considerable strength. No doubt the good young Prince restored this Castle Terrible with its great wall—the base court—containing three gateways, one of which is still standing, and its dungeon of Doomsdale; this castle to which "the vill of Truro yearly rendered one laburnum bow and the manor of Scilly three hundred puffins!"

Imagine the arrival at the buttery hatch of those three hundred puffins! We think them a leathery, fishy kind of food, and nowadays the servants would leave in a body if required to eat them. But those were the good old times, and in guardroom and kitchen no doubt they had puffin roasted and puffin boiled and puffins in their pasties until the lady of the castle said to her lord: "My love, in this weather, of course, you can't expect those puffins to keep; really the Scillies are most inconsiderate, one hundred at a time would have been sufficient!" and then they had puffins potted and variously preserved until the garrison groaned in chorus the old grace:

"Puffins young and puffins old,
Puffins hot and puffins cold,
Puffins tender and puffins tough,
I thank the Lord I've had enough."

At the time of the Civil Wars the Castle, nodding in age-long sleep and slow decay, was restored and fortified. Charles I. and his troops passed through the town in August 1644; and Richard Grenville, new-made Lord of Lostwithiel, was imprisoned here, when his turbulence had exhausted the royal patience. Now the county gaol is at Bodmin; but in those days of dungeons and fetters the folk were incarcerated in the fortress—what is now a playground being the place of execution.

The ruins are certainly the most interesting part of Launceston, and it has ruins not only of the ivy-grown castle, but of a priory founded in 1126. Its faint remains, with the exception of a doorway built into the White Hart Hotel, lie in a valley between the town and St. Stephen's. When the privilege of sanctuary was abolished except in churches and churchyards, Launceston was one of the seven towns that were made sanctuaries for life, except for heinous crimes. The result, however, was not altogether pleasant for the aforesaid towns, which, much to their dismay, presently found themselves harbouring all the criminals and rapscallions of the country. Preferring the room of these would-be citizens to their company, the towns petitioned James I. for "desecration" and the right of sanctuary was finally abolished.

The Church of St. Mary Magdalene was built by Sir Henry Trecarrel in 1524 on the death of his only child. It is of granite, and has the peculiarity of being worked all over with picks instead of chisels. The ornamentation is florid and excessive. A granite carving of the Crucifixion, however, and other interesting monuments form part of the churchyard wall. The vestry was once a shop that separated the tower from the church, which though it seems strange to our modern notions was by no means unusual in olden days.

The Old Highways

The oldest road in the county is no doubt the one that runs from Tor Point by way of the principal towns to the Land's End, but a great part of this ground has already been trodden. Another ancient road leaving Launceston goes via Bodmin Moors to Bodmin, branching off right and left at Altarnon. It then crosses Tregoss Moor, passes St. Enoder and Mitchell, and joins the first near Redruth. This road, running as it does like a backbone down the centre of the county, we propose to take. Egloskerry, Treneglos, and Trewen have churches which are mildly interesting. In the first are two good Norman tympana, one over the north doorway, representing a dragon, and one, now placed over the interior of the south doorway, carved with the Agnus Dei. Here also is a mutilated stone figure supposed to represent one of the Blanchminster (anglice, Blackmonster) family. At Treneglos is another fine Norman tympanum, having cut on it the tree of life with a lion on each side; and Trewen has a good mediæval bell inscribed, "St. Michael, pray for us!"

At Lancast J. C. Adams, the discoverer of the planet Neptune, was born. He was also the Senior Wrangler of his year at Cambridge, and one of the exceptions to the old rule that Senior Wranglers never distinguish themselves after leaving college. Another Cornish Senior Wrangler was Henry Martyn, the missionary, to whose memory the baptistery in Truro Cathedral is dedicated.

St. Clether

Basil or Trebasil, in the parish of St. Clether, was for long the seat of the Trevelyans. Among the ruins of the house is a large moorstone oven, now used as a pigstye, while in the immediate neighbourhood are four granite crosses in a good state of preservation. The Trevelyans, like most of the Cornish gentry, were Cavaliers, and on one occasion a party of Roundheads made shift to seize the squire in his own house.

"If you come on," said he, "I will send out my spearmen against you."

As there seemed nothing at the back of this threat, come on they did. Whereupon he up with a teeming beehive and threw it among them. Not a man-jack waited for the onslaught of those spearmen.

Altarnon

At the junction of this northerly road with those running south to Liskeard and west to Bodmin, lies Altarnon, the largest parish in Cornwall. The patron saint is Non, the mother of St. David, and her church is full of interesting memorials of the past. It possesses not only an exceptionally large collection of sixteenth-century bench-ends, but an oak rood screen, which antiquarians declare to be "by far the finest specimen of fifteenth-century woodwork in Cornwall and one of the very best existing examples of perpendicular oak-work in England." There are also two paintings on wood (date 1620), a fragment of ancient glass in the east window, locally supposed to contain a portrait of St. Non, a communion rail of 1684, and other objects of interest. On several of the bench-ends may be seen carvings of the little corn man or "neck," that is to say, the figure that is plaited out of the heads of wheat in the last sheaf at a harvest, and which is sometimes to be seen preserved over the winter in a cottage.

Nor is the carefully restored church all that Altarnon has to show. St. Non's Well was celebrated for the cure of lunacy, and Carew gives a startling account of the proceedings. "In our forefather's days, when devotion as much exceeded knowledge as knowledge now cometh short of devotion, there were many bowsening places for curing madmen; and amongst the rest one at Altarnunne, called St. Nunne's Pool, which saint's altar it may be, pars pro toto, gave name to the church. And because the manner of this bowsening is not so unpleasing to hear as it was uneasy to feel, I will deliver you the practice as I received it from the beholder.

"The water running from St. Nunne's Well fell into a square and close-walled plot which might be filled at what depth they listed. Upon this wall was the frantic person set to stand, his back towards the pool, where a strong fellow, provided for the nonce, took him and tossed him, and tossed him up and down, along and athwart the water, until the patient, by foregoing his strength, had somewhat forgotten his fury. Then was he conveyed to the church and certain masses sung over him; upon which handling, if his right wits returned, St. Nunne had the thanks, but if there appeared small amendment, he was bowsened again and again, while there remained in him any hope of life or recovery."

The well is now dry, and the "square and close-walled plot" in ruins, for which—lest it should occur to our medical men to try these old remedies—thanks be to whom thanks are due.

Trebartha

The Lynher which rises in Altarnon flows southward to Trebartha, where it forms a fine cascade and is crossed by the road to Liskeard. Not far from this bridge is the manor of Treveniel, whose lord claimed the right, whenever the Mayor of Launceston mounted his horse on the occasion of the duke coming into Cornwall, of holding the stirrup. It seems strange that any gentleman should set store by this right, which is, after all, a relic of some forgotten form of tenure. What elderly children we remain, squabbling over our foolish plays, in spite of the twentieth century, the new humanitarianism, and all the other solemnities!

The Trethevy Dolmen

Before marching on Liskeard, Charles I. drew up his troops on the north side of Caradon Hill. The copper mines on the south-west of this moorland eminence have yielded ore to the value of several millions of money, but are no longer worked. Near them is the Trethevy dolmen, the largest in Cornwall, the cover stone being 14 ft. long and 9 ft. wide. An old writer described it as "a little house raised of mighty stone, standing on a little hill within a field." In comparison with some of the foreign dolmens, however, it is but small. Several of the French cromlechs are large enough to be converted into chapels, while one at Copenhagen, called the "Chamber of Giants," will allow of twenty people walking about in it.

The Cheesewring

To the north of Caradon Down are three stone circles known as the Hurlers and not far from them the remarkable granite stone known as the Cheesewring. This curious natural phenomenon stands on the side of a hill, the summit of which is encircled by a large entrenchment of unhewn stones, while over against it is Kilmar Tor (1297 ft.), third highest peak in Cornwall. It looks like large blocks of tabular granite poised on smaller ones till the base of the Cheesewring is only about half the size of what it supports, this irregularity being due to weathering. A part of the top is broken. In consequence of careless quarrying close by, the pile has had to be artificially supported.

Antiquaries once thought the Cheesewring a memorial to the dead, from which in the course of centuries the covering earth had been washed away. In this neighbourhood there are many such cairns and monuments. A barrow near by was opened in 1818 and in it an extended skeleton and a gold cup were found. This cup was of Scandinavian type, 3½ in. high, and weighed nearly three ounces, which suggests that some sea rover found his last resting-place in these heathy solitudes.

St. Cleer

From near the Cheesewring a moorland road leads down to St. Cleer, which is divided from St. Neot by the lovely valley of the River Fowey. This parish contains a number of antiquities of varying ages, in fact, as has been said, "dead faiths and dead beliefs lie about this countryside like withered leaves in autumn." At Trewartha Marsh is a prehistoric settlement which probably belongs to the early iron age. Some of the oblong huts are small, but others are fully 50 ft. long, while in the group is what was possibly a public hall with stone benches along its sides, and at the end a chair with arms. A few hut circles and an ancient circular pound are also to be seen.

Doniert's stone, supposed to have been raised in memory of King Alfred's friend, Dungarth of Cornwall, is near Redgate; and in the village of St. Cleer is a Latin cross which stands beside a holy well reputed to have been used like that at Altarnun for the "bowsening" or cure of maniacs. This well has a beautiful little chapel built over the clear spring.

"Tell me the street to Heaven.
This? Or that? Oh, which?
What webs of streets!"

Noguchi.

The fifteenth-century tower of St. Cleer is unusually fine, and the church contains a Norman north doorway, and an early English font of great beauty.

St. Neot

To the north of both St. Cleer and St. Neot lie the wild and uncultivated moors, and the saints must have been brave men who sought the solitude of this granite strewn district. It is little wonder that strange, and to our thinking, absurd legends, should have grown up about them. St. Neot, as has been already said, was a cousin of King Alfred, and it appears that in those days even minor royalties worked for their living. The saint's oxen were stolen—he evidently farmed the land—so the stags of the neighbouring forest performed all the necessary labour, and for this good deed were endowed with a white mark wherever the yoke of labour had touched their brown hides! This and similar stories are depicted on one of the beautiful stained glass windows of the church.

This parish, like so many others in Cornwall, is rich in ancient crosses, there being no less than three, all having incised crosses on them, in the vicarage garden. In the churchyard is one on which is quite the finest interlaced work on granite in the county. It has been mounted on the stone, on which legend says St. Neot, who was a small man, stood in order to unlock the church door. From which story it appears that in those days the churches were kept locked!

Little St. Neot must have been glad to welcome his great kinsman, when as the Book of Hyde (1200 a.d.) says: "Alfred went to Cornwall and repaired to the Church of St. Gueryr, where St. Neot reposes, for the purpose of alleviating his illness." Let us hope Neot was not too saintly to feel a cousinly interest in the King's health and that the two compared their widely differing lives and asked after old friends and what had been the history of this one and that; and that they ate in peace of the wheaten bread which St. Neot, after his farming operations, would be able to offer, and the fish with which another legend daily provided him, and so parted, the one to his burden of life, the other staying on, content with uneventful peace.

The glory of St. Neot's Church is its collection of stained glass. It dates from 1528, and though not quite the oldest in the county, it is said that none comparable with it for beauty and richness exist either in Cornwall or Devon.

The old road from Bodmin to Plymouth, that interesting prehistoric highway by which the early Cornish probably sent their tin for shipment abroad, runs through the village. Long before Alfred came to hob-nob with his cousin, before the Romans so much as knew that Britain existed, and while the mammoth in the valley of the Thames was still shaking his great hairy sides over the littleness of man, the rough stuggy ponies, whose descendants still feed on Goonhilly Downs, were carrying their heavy packs along this track, over the old clapper bridges, past heath, morass, forest, and settlement, at the call of need.

Dozmaré

On the high land north of St. Neot and a little beyond Brown Gilly (1058 ft.) lies Dozmaré, the only inland lake of Cornwall. This tarn, which by old writers was called the Dead Sea from the lifeless appearance of its waters, lies on an elevated plateau in a dreary sad-coloured region. It is nearly square and in circumference about a mile. Tennyson told Mr. J. J. Rogers that the Loe Pool was where he pictured the throwing away of the sword Excalibur. His description suits that and does not suit Dozmaré, while the moormen talk only of "Jan Tergeagle," that unjust steward who does penance for his evil deeds in so many parts of Cornwall. It is said that he has been set to bale Dozmaré—supposed to be bottomless—dry, and has been given to aid him in his task a limpet shell pierced with a hole through which the water drips as he lifts it.

It is perhaps "flogging a dead horse" to mention that in the hot summer of 1869 Dozmaré dried up, thus proving that it was far from bottomless. By disclosing a number of unfortunate trout and eels, it also showed it was by no means "dead." To a moorman the suggestion that Tregeagle has evidently accomplished his task, however, has but little weight. His imagination overleaps the trifling fact of the dry summer and its consequences, and only looks before and after. The pool seems mysterious, it has a healthy legend, and to that legend any one hearing the wind howl over these wastes on a December night may well give credence.

What was the origin of the moated grange? In Dozmaré is a subaqueous pile of stones on which once stood a crannog or lake dwelling, while many arrow heads and worked flints have been found in the neighbourhood. Did the folk who built their homes over a pool find the water so great a protection that their children going east and west, and being unable to discover any more convenient lakes, built a stockaded house, and for its greater safety must by their personal labour surround it with the element in which they had always trusted? Is the moated grange then only the direct descendant of the lake dwelling?

CHAPTER XI