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diff --git a/20170.txt b/20170.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cc8729f --- /dev/null +++ b/20170.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1607 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Legend Land, Vol. 1, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Legend Land, Vol. 1 + Being a collection of some of the Old Tales told in those + Western Parts of Britain served by The Great Western + Railway. + +Author: Various + +Release Date: December 23, 2006 [EBook #20170] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGEND LAND, VOL. 1 *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, David Garcia and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +[Illustration: + +G.W.R: The Line to Legend Land + +THE HURLERS Page 8 +PERRAN SANDS Page 12 +ST ALLEN Page 16 +ZENNOR Page 4 +ST MICHAEL'S MOUNT Page 20 +THE LOOE BAR Page 24 +"FURRY DAY SONG" Page 52 + +Vol. One Front End] + + * * * * * + + + + + + +LEGEND LAND + + + Being a collection of some of the _OLD TALES_ told + in those Western Parts of Britain served by the + _GREAT WESTERN RAILWAY_, now retold by _LYONESSE_ + + +[Illustration] + + +VOLUME ONE + + + _Published in 1922 by_ + THE GREAT WESTERN RAILWAY + [FELIX J. C. POLE, GENERAL MANAGER] + PADDINGTON STATION, LONDON + + + + +CONTENTS AND ILLUSTRATIONS + + + The Mermaid of Zennor _Page_ 4 + The Stone Men of St. Cleer 8 + How St. Piran Came to Cornwall 12 + The Lost Child of St. Allen 16 + The Giants who Built the Mount 20 + The Tasks of Tregeagle 24 + The Lady of Llyn-y-Fan Fach 28 + St. David and His Mother 32 + The Vengeance of the Fairies 36 + The Old Woman who Fooled the Devil 40 + The Women Soldiers of Fishguard 44 + How Bala Lake Began 48 + The Furry Day Song (_Supplement_) 52 + + + * * * * * + + This is a reprint in book form of the first series of + _The Line to Legend Land_ leaflets, together with a + Supplement, "The Furry Day Song." + + The Map at the beginning provides a guide to the localities + of the six Cornish legends and the "Furry Day Song"; that at + the back to the six stories of Wales. + + * * * * * + + _Printed by_ SPOTTISWOODE, BALLANTYNE & COMPANY LIMITED, + _One New Street Square, London, E.C.4_ + + + + +FOREWORD + + +In those older, simpler days, when reading was a rare accomplishment, +our many times great-grandparents would gather round the blazing fire of +kitchen or hall on the long, dark winter nights and pass away the hours +before bedtime in conversation and story-telling. + +The old stories were told again and again. The children learned +them in their earliest years and passed them on to their children and +grandchildren in turn. And, as is natural, in all this telling the +stories changed little by little. New and more familiar characters were +introduced, or a story-teller with more vivid imagination than his +fellows would add a bit here and there to make a better tale of it. + +But in origin most of these old legends date from the very dawn of +our history. In a primitive form they were probably told round the +camp-fires of that British army that went out to face invading Caesar. + +Then with the spread of education they began to die. When many folk +could read and books grew cheap there was no longer the need to call +upon memory for the old-fashioned romances. + +Yet there have always been those who loved the old tales best, and they +wrote them down before it was too late, so that they might be preserved +for ever. A few of them are retold briefly here. + +All people should like the old stories; all nice people do. To them I +commend these tales of Legend Land, in the hope that they may grow to +love them and the countries about which they are written. + + LYONESSE + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + + +THE MERMAID OF ZENNOR + + +Carved on one of the pews in the church of Zennor in West Cornwall is a +strange figure of a mermaid. Depicted with flowing hair, a mirror in one +hand and a comb in the other, the Zennor folk tell a strange story about +her. + +Years and years ago, they say, a beautiful and richly dressed lady +used to attend the church sometimes. Nobody knew where she came from, +although her unusual beauty and her glorious voice caused her to be the +subject of discussion throughout the parish. + +So attractive was she that half the young men of the village fell in +love with her, and one of them, Mathey Trewella, a handsome youth and +one of the best singers in the neighbourhood, determined that he would +discover who she was. + +The beautiful stranger had smiled at him in church one Sunday, and after +service he followed her as she walked away towards the cliffs. + +Mathey Trewella never returned to Zennor, nor did the lovely stranger +ever attend church again. + +Years passed by, and Mathey's strange disappearance was almost forgotten +when, one Sunday morning, a ship cast anchor off Pendower Cove, near +Zennor. The captain of the vessel was sitting idling on the deck when he +heard a beautiful voice hailing him from the sea. Looking over the side +he saw the mermaid, her long yellow hair floating all around her. + +She asked him to be so kind as to pull up his anchor, for it was resting +upon the doorway of her house under the sea and she was anxious to get +back to Mathey, her husband, and her children. + +In alarm, the captain weighed anchor and stood out to sea, for sailors +fear that mermaids will bring bad luck. But later he returned and told +the Zennor folk of Mathey's fate, and they, to commemorate the strange +event, and to warn other young men against the wiles of the merrymaids, +had the mermaid figure carved in the church. + +And there it is to-day for all the world to see, and to prove, to those +who do not believe the old stories, the truth of poor Mathey Trewella's +sad fate. + +Zennor is a lovely moorland village in the neighbourhood of some of the +wildest scenery in Cornwall. To the south-west rugged moors stretch away +to the Land's End. To the north a quarter of an hour's walk brings you +to the coast with its sheltered coves and its cruel cliffs. Gurnard's +Head, one of the most famous of all Cornish promontories, is less than +two miles away. Grim, remote, yet indescribably fascinating, the country +around Zennor is typical of that far western corner of England which is +swept continually by the great health-giving winds of the Atlantic. + +In its sheltered valleys flowers bloom all the year round. On its +bold hill-tops, boulder-strewn and wild, there remain still the old +mysterious stones and the queer beehive huts erected by men who +inhabited this land in the dark days before Christianity. + +Gorse and heather riot over the moorland. There is a charm and peace +about this too little known country that compels health and well-being. + +Yet Zennor is only five and a half miles by the moorland road from St. +Ives, that picturesque little fishing town that artists and golfers know +so well. St. Ives, less than seven hours' journey from Paddington, is an +ideal centre from which to explore the coast and moorland beauties of +England's furthest west. + +[Illustration: _The Mermaid of Zennor: Bench End in Zennor Church_] + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE STONE MEN OF ST. CLEER + + +A thousand feet above sea level among the heather and bracken of +Craddock Moor, four or five miles north of Liskeard, you may find to-day +the remains of three ancient stone circles known as "The Hurlers." +Antiquaries will tell you that the Druids first erected them, but the +people of the countryside know better. From father to son, from +grandparent to child, through long centuries, the story has been handed +down of how "The Hurlers" came to be fixed in eternal stillness high up +there above the little village of St. Cleer. + +Exactly how long ago it was nobody knows, but it happened in those early +days when pious saints were settling down in the remote parts of savage +Cornwall and striving to convert the wild Cornish from their pagan ways. + +Then, as even to this day, the game of Hurling--a sort of primitive +Rugby football--was a popular pastime with the people. Village used to +play against village, with goals perhaps four or five miles apart. And +the good folk of St. Cleer were as fond of the game as any of their +neighbours--so fond, in fact, that they would play it on any and every +occasion, despite the admonitions of their local saint and parson, after +whom the village was named. + +Again and again he would notice that his little church was empty on +Sunday mornings while the shouts and noise of a hard-fought Hurling +match drifted across the moorland in through the open church door. Again +and again he would take his flock to task for their godless ways and +their Sabbath-breaking games. But it was of little use. For a Sunday or +two they would be penitent and attend service. Then would come a fine +morning, and a challenge perhaps from the Hurlers of St. Ive or North +Hill, on the other side of the moors, and the young men would decide to +chance another lecture from the patient saint, and out they would go to +the hillside to do battle for the honour of their parish. + +But even the patience of saints comes to an end at last, and good St. +Cleer saw something more than words was needed to lead his people into +the right way. And so it happened one Sunday morning, in the midst of a +hot tussle on Craddock Moor, the outraged St. Cleer arrived in search of +his erring flock. + +He bade them cease their game at once and return to church. Some of them +obeyed, wandering sheepishly off down the hill; some were defiant and +told the worthy man to go back to his prayers and not to come up there +to spoil sport. + +Then St. Cleer spoke in anger. Raising his staff he told them in solemn +and awful tones that it should be as they had chosen. Since they +preferred their game on the moor to their service in church, on the moor +at their game they should stay for ever. He lowered his staff and to the +horror of all onlookers the defiant ones were seen to be turned into +stone. + +Many centuries have passed since then. Time, wind and rain have +weathered the stone men out of all semblance of humanity. Some have been +destroyed, but most still remain as an awful example to impious Sabbath +profaners. And there you may see them silent and still, just as they +were struck on that grim Sunday in the dark long ago. + +The glorious moorland, rugged and wild, stretches all about them--a +wonderful walking country, where one may escape from all cares and +wander for hours amid the bracken and sweet-smelling grasses and find +strange prehistoric remains seldom visited by any but the moorland sheep +and the wild birds. It is a country of vast spaces and far views. You +may see on one hand the Severn Sea, on the other the Channel; to the +east the upstanding blue hills of Dartmoor and to the west the rugged +highlands by Land's End--and then trudge back at night weary but happy +to Liskeard, described as "the pleasantest town in Cornwall," and find +it hard to believe that only five hours away is the toil and turmoil of +London. + +[Illustration: _"The Hurlers," St. Cleer_] + +[Illustration] + + + + +HOW ST. PIRAN CAME TO CORNWALL + + +Some sixteen hundred years ago, so tradition tells, there lived in the +South of Ireland a very holy man named Piran. Such was his piety that +he was able to perform miracles. Once he fed ten Irish kings and their +armies for ten days on end with three cows. Men sorely wounded in battle +were brought to him to be cured, and he cured them. Yet the Irish grew +jealous of his power and decided he must be killed. + +And so one stormy, boisterous morning the pious Piran was brought in +chains to the summit of a high cliff, and with a huge millstone tied to +his neck his ungrateful neighbours hurled him into the raging billows +beneath. This horrible deed was marked, as the holy man left the top of +the cliff, with a blinding flash of lightning and a terrifying crash of +thunder, and then, to the amazement of the savages who had thus sought +to destroy him, a wonderful thing happened. + +As man and millstone reached the sea the storm instantly ceased. The sun +shone out, the waves and the wind died down, and, peering over the edge +of the cliff, the wondering crowd saw the holy man, seated peacefully +upon a floating millstone, drifting slowly away in the direction of the +Cornish shore, some hundreds of miles to the south-east. + +St. Piran's millstone bore him safely across the Atlantic waves until at +length--on the fifth day of March--it grounded gently upon the Cornish +coast, between Newquay and Perranporth, on that glorious stretch of sand +known to-day as Perran Beach. Here the Saint landed, and, taking his +millstone with him, proceeded a little distance inland and set himself +to work to convert the heathen Cornish to Christianity. + +He built himself a little chapel in the sands and lived a useful and +pious life for many years, loved by his people, until at last, at the +great age of two hundred and six, he died. Then his sorrowing flock +buried him and built over his grave St. Piran's Chapel, the remains of +which you can see to-day hidden away in the sandhills of the Penhale +Sands. + +Although Cornwall can boast many saints, St. Piran has greater right +than any other to be called the patron of the Duchy. To him the Cornish +in the old days attributed a vast number of good actions, among them the +discovery of tin, the mining of which has for centuries formed one of +the chief Cornish industries. + +This came about, according to the old story, from the saint making use +of some strange black stones that he found, to make a foundation for +his fire. The heat being more intense than usual one day, these stones +melted and a stream of white metal flowed from them. + +The saint and his companion, St. Chiwidden, told the Cornish people of +their discovery, and taught them to dig and smelt the ore, thus bringing +much prosperity to the country, the story of which eventually reached +the far-away Phoenicians and brought them in their ships to trade with +the Cornish for their valuable metal. + +Good St. Piran has left his name all over the wonderful country +south-west of Newquay. In Perranporth, with its rocks and caves and +glorious bathing beach; in St. Piran's Round, that strange old +earth-work not far away; in the parish of Perranzabuloe, which means +Perran in the Sands; in Perranwell, near Falmouth, and even further +south in Perranuthnoe, which looks out across the waters of Mounts Bay. + +But although memorials of him are to be found over most of South +Cornwall, it is the district of the Perran Sands, where he landed, lived +and died, that is his true home. There, where the soft Atlantic breezes +or the fierce winter gales sweep in to Perran Bay, you may look out over +the dancing sea towards Ireland and America with nothing but Atlantic +rollers between, or wander amid the waste of sand dunes that comprise +the Perran Sands and breathe in health with every breath you take. + +Perranporth is on the edge of these sandhills, which stretch away +north-east to within four miles of Newquay--all within seven hours' +journey from London. + +[Illustration: _St. Piran's Chapel_] + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE LOST CHILD OF ST. ALLEN + + +They never talk of fairies in Cornwall; what "foreigners" call fairies +the Cornish call "piskies," or "small people." And all about the Duchy +piskies still abound for those who are fitted to see them. The old folk +will still tell you many strange stories of the piskies. One of the best +known is that of the lost child of St. Allen. St. Allen is a parish on +the high ground about four miles from Truro, and there, in the little +hamlet of Treonike, or, as it is now called, Trefronick, on a lovely +spring evening years and years ago, a small village boy wandered out +to pick flowers in a little copse not far from his parents' cottage. + +His mother, looking from the kitchen door, saw him happily engaged in +his innocent amusement, then turned to make ready the supper for her +good man, whom she saw trudging home in the distance across the fields. +When, a few minutes later, she went to call her boy in to his evening +meal, he had vanished. + +At first it was thought that the child had merely wandered further +into the wood, but after a while, when he did not return, his parents +grew alarmed and went in search of him. Yet no sign of the boy was +discovered. + +For two days the villagers sought high and low for the missing child, +and then, on the morning of the third day, to the delight of the +distracted parents, their boy was found sleeping peacefully upon a bed +of fern within a few yards of the place where his mother had last seen +him. He was perfectly well, quite happy, and entirely ignorant of the +length of time that had elapsed. And he had a wonderful story to tell. + +While picking the flowers, he said, he had heard a bird singing in more +beautiful tones than any he had heard before. Going into the wood to +see what strange songster this was, the sound changed to most wonderful +music which compelled him to follow it. Thus lured onward he came at +length to the edge of an enchanted lake, and he noticed that night had +fallen but that the sky was ablaze with huge stars. Then more stars +rose up all around him, and, looking, he saw that each was in reality a +pisky. These small people formed themselves into a procession, singing +strange fascinating songs the while, and under the leadership of one who +was more brilliant and more beautiful than the rest they led the boy +through their dwelling place. This, he said, was like a palace. Crystal +pillars supported arches hung with jewels which glistened with every +colour of the rainbow. Far more wonderful, the child said, were the +crystals than any he had seen in a Cornish mine. + +The piskies were very kind to him, and seemed to enjoy his wonder and +astonishment at their gorgeous cave. They gave him a fairy meal of the +purest honey spread on dainty little cakes, and when at last he grew +tired numbers of the small folk fell to work to build him a bed of +fern. Then, crowding around him, they sang him to sleep with a strange +soothing lullaby, which for the rest of his life he was always just +on the point of remembering, but which as certainly escaped him. He +remembered nothing more until he was awakened and taken home to his +parents. + +The wise folk of St. Allen maintained that only a child of the finest +character ever received such honour from the small people, and that +the fact that they had shown him the secrets of their hidden dwelling +augured that for ever afterwards they would keep him under their +especial care. And so it was; the boy lived to a ripe old age and +prospered amazingly. He never knew illness or misfortune, and died +at last in his sleep; and those that were near him say that as he +breathed his last a strange music filled the room. Some say that the +piskies still haunt the woods and fields around Trefronick, but that +they only show themselves to children and grown-ups of simple, trusting +nature. Anyhow, those that wish to try to see them may reach the place +where the lost child was spirited away in an hour and a half's walk from +Truro, Cornwall's cathedral city, which is at the head of one of the +most beautiful rivers in the world. + +The trip from Truro down the Truro river and the Fal to Falmouth +at any time of the year is a pleasurable experience that can never be +forgotten. Truro is an ideal centre for South Cornwall. Wild sea coast +and moorland, and woods and sheltered creeks, are all close at hand, yet +the city itself has the cloistered calm peculiar to all our cathedral +towns. + +The tourist neglects Truro too much, for as a lover of the Duchy once +said: "It is the most convenient town in Cornwall; it seems to be within +an hour and a half's journey of any part of the county." + +[Illustration: _Truro Cathedral_] + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE GIANTS WHO BUILT THE MOUNT + + +St. Michael's Mount, that impressive castle-crowned pyramid of rock that +rises from the waters of Mounts Bay, was not always an island. In fact, +it is not always an island now. At low tide you may reach it from the +mainland along a causeway. But once upon a time the Mount stood in the +midst of a forest; its old name, "Caraclowse in Cowse," means "the Grey +Rock in the Wood," and that was at the time when the Giants built it. + +Cormoran was one of the Giants; he lived in this great western forest, +which is now swallowed up by the sea, and there he determined to erect +for himself a stronghold that should rise well above the trees. So he +set to work to collect huge stones from the neighbouring granite hills, +and his new home grew apace. + +But the labour of searching far afield for suitable stones, and of +carrying them to the forest and piling them one upon another, was a +wearying task even for a giant, and as Cormoran grew tired he forced his +unfortunate Giantess wife, Cormelian, to help him in his task, and to +her he gave the most toilsome of the labour. + +Was there a gigantic boulder in a far part of the Duchy that Cormoran +coveted, unhappy Cormelian was sent to fetch it; and she, like a dutiful +wife, never complained, but went meekly about her work, collecting the +finest and biggest stones and carrying them back to the forest in her +apron. Meanwhile Cormoran, growing more lazy, spent much of his time +in sleep, waking up only very occasionally to admonish his wife or to +incite her to greater efforts. + +One day, when Cormelian had been twice as far as the Bodmin moors to +fetch some particularly fine stones Cormoran had seen, and was about +to set off on a third journey, she, noticing her husband fast asleep, +thought to save herself another weary walk by going only a short +distance and breaking off some huge masses of greenstone rock which +existed in the neighbourhood and placing them upon the nearly completed +Mount without being seen. Although Cormoran had insisted that the stone +be grey, Cormelian could see no reason why one stone was not as good as +another. + +So, carrying out her plan, she was returning with the first enormous +piece of greenstone, walking ever so carefully so as not to awaken +Cormoran, when, unfortunately, he did awake. He flew into a terrible +rage on seeing how his wife was trying to delude him, and, rising with +a dreadful threat, he ran after her, overtaking her just before she +reached the Mount. + +Scolding her for her deceit, he gave her a terrific box on the ear. Poor +Cormelian, in her fright, dropped the huge greenstone she was carrying, +and ran sobbing from her angry husband to seek refuge in the deepest +part of the forest; and it was not until Cormoran himself had finished +building the Mount that she would return to him. + +And to-day, as you walk along the causeway from Marazion to St. +Michael's Mount, you will see on your right hand an isolated mass of +greenstone, the very rock that Cormelian dropped. It is called Chapel +Rock now, because years and years afterwards, when pious monks lived +upon the summit of the Mount and devout pilgrims used to visit their +church to pay homage at a shrine, they built a little chapel, upon poor +Cormelian's green rock, of which only a few stones now remain. + +You may visit Chapel Rock and St. Michael's Mount from Penzance, which +is between three and four miles away and is the ideal centre for some of +the most wonderful scenery in Cornwall. Both Land's End and the Lizard +are within easy reach of this, England's westernmost town, where a +climate that rivals that of the Mediterranean may be enjoyed in the +depth of winter. Semi-tropical flowers and trees bloom in the open, +and in February and early March--in what is, in fact, winter weather +for those in less favoured parts--Penzance and its neighbourhood are +surrounded by glorious spring flowers, the growing of which forms a +very considerable industry. + +London and our other big towns often get their first glimpse of coming +spring in the narcissi and wallflowers grown around the shores of Mounts +Bay, and packed off to the grim cold cities only a few hours away. + +[Illustration: _St. Michael's Mount_] + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE TASKS OF TREGEAGLE + + +The name of the demon Tregeagle is a household word in nearly every part +of Cornwall. His wild spirit rages of nights along the rocky coasts, +across the bleak moors and through the sheltered valleys. For Tregeagle +is a Cornish "Wandering Jew"; his spirit can never rest, since in life +he was the most evil man the Duchy ever knew. + +His story, as the legend has it, is that he was a man who amassed great +wealth by robbing his neighbours in the cruellest manner. As he approached +the end of his most evil life remorse seized him. There was no sin he +had not committed, and hoping to escape from the just reward of so +wicked a life, in the hereafter, he lavished money upon the Church and +the poor, trusting to obtain the help of the holy priests to save him +from the clutches of the Evil One. + +The priests, ever anxious to save a soul, banded themselves together, +and by constant prayer and powerful exorcisms kept the powers of +darkness at bay, and Tregeagle died and was buried in St. Breock Church. +But the demons were not so ready to give up what they felt was their +lawful prey. An important lawsuit occurred shortly after his death, and +as the judge was about to give his decision against the unjustly accused +defendant, to the horror of all in court, the gaunt figure of the dead +Tregeagle stalked into the room. His evidence saved the defendant. + +Now Tregeagle being brought from the grave, despite the honesty of +his mission, placed himself once more in danger of the demons. The +defendant, who had raised the spirit, calmly left him to the Churchmen +to put once more to rest, and after a long conference, presided over by +the Prior of Bodmin, it was decided that the only hope of ultimate peace +for the evil man's spirit was that he be set to some task which might +last until the Day of Judgment. And so long as he worked unceasingly +at that task he might still hope for salvation. + +So the task appointed him was to empty out Dozmary Pool, a gloomy lake +on the Bodmin Moors, with a limpet-shell with a hole in it. For years +Tregeagle laboured at this, until one day during a terrible storm he +ceased work for a moment. Then the demons descended upon him. He fled +from his pursuers, and only escaped them by leaping right across the +lake--for demons cannot cross water--and rushing for sanctuary to the +little chapel on the Roche Rock, where he managed just in time to get +his head in at the east window. But the howls of the demons outside, +and the roaring of the terrified Tregeagle within, made the life of the +unfortunate priest of the Roche chapel unbearable, and he appealed to +his brethren of the Church to do something about it. So they bound the +wicked spirit with holy spells and took him safely across to the north +coast, where another task was set him. He was to weave a truss of sand +and spin a sand rope to bind it with. But as soon as he started on his +work the winds or the waves destroyed it, and the luckless creature's +roars of anger so disturbed the countryside that the holy St. Petroc was +prevailed upon to move him once more, to a wilder part of the country, +and the saint took him to the coast near Helston. + +Here Tregeagle was set to the task of carrying all the sand from the +beach below Bareppa across the estuary of the Looe river to Porthleven, +for St. Petroc knew that each tide would sweep the sand back again and +the task could never be completed. But the demons were always watching +Tregeagle, and one of them contrived one day to trip him up as he was +wading across the river. The sand poured from the huge sack Tregeagle +was carrying and dammed up the stream, thus forming the Looe Pool, which +you may see to-day just by Helston, and the Looe Bar, which separates it +from the sea. + +Tregeagle's next task he is engaged upon to-day. He was taken to near +the Land's End, and there he is still endeavouring to sweep the sand +from Porthcurnow Cove round the headland of Tol-Peden-Penwith into +Nanjisal Bay, and on many a winter night if you are there you can hear +him howling and roaring at the hopelessness of his task. + +These scenes of Tregeagle's labours are all situated amid most glorious +scenery. Dozmary Pool, bleak and lonely amid the Bodmin Moors, the +little chapel on the Roche Rock near St. Austell, and the beautiful Looe +Pool by Helston, that attractive little town on a hillside, which is the +tourist centre for that country full of colour, deep sheltered valleys, +and magnificent coast scenery, the Lizard peninsula. + +Porthcurnow, the miserable man's present abode, you will find nestling +amid the grim cliffs near the Land's End. And if you doubt this sad +history of the demon-ridden Tregeagle, go and look at the Looe Bar and +explain if you can how otherwise so strange a place could have been +created. + +[Illustration: _The Roche Rocks_] + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE LADY OF LLYN-Y-FAN FACH + + +Not many miles from Llandovery, in the midst of glorious mountain +scenery, is a lovely little lake known as Llyn-y-Fan-Fach, the scene of +a very remarkable occurrence. Once upon a time a simple cowherd, eating +his frugal meal by the edge of the water, observed with amazement, +seated upon the calm surface of the lake, the most beautiful woman he +had ever seen. So great was his admiration for her that he cried out, +and she, turning to him, gave a rapturous smile and silently disappeared +beneath the waters. + +The peasant was distracted, for he had fallen deeply in love with the +beautiful lady. He waited until dark, but she did not appear again; +but at daybreak the next morning he returned once more, and was again +rewarded by the sight of his enchantress and another of her alluring +smiles. + +Several times more he saw her and each time he besought her to be his +wife, but she only smiled and disappeared, until at length one evening, +just as the sun was setting, the beautiful lady appeared, and this time, +instead of diving beneath the surface, she came to the shore, and, +after some persuasion, consented to marry the youth. But she made one +condition: if ever he should strike her three blows without cause she +would leave him, she said, and their marriage would be at an end. + +So the two were married happily and went to live at Esgair Laethdy, near +Myddfai, the maiden bringing with her as dowry a large number of cattle +and horses which she called up from the bottom of the lake. + +For years the couple lived in great prosperity and happiness, and three +handsome sons were born to them; then the day arrived when husband and +wife were setting out for a christening, and, being rather late, the +husband slapped his wife merrily on the shoulder, urging her to hurry. +Sadly she reminded him that he had struck her the first of the causeless +blows. + +Years passed by, and the couple were at a wedding. In the midst of +all the merry-making the wife burst suddenly into tears. Patting her +sympathetically on the arm, the man inquired the cause of her weeping, +and she, sobbing the harder, reminded him that he had struck her a +second time. + +Now that he had only one chance left, the husband was particularly +careful never to forget and strike the third and last blow; but, after +a long while, at a funeral one day, while all were sobbing and weeping, +the beautiful lady suddenly began laughing merrily. Touching her gently +to quiet her, the husband realised that the end had come. + +"The last blow has been struck; our marriage is ended," said the wife, +now in tears; and with that she started off across the hills to their +farm. There she called together her cattle and other stock, which +immediately obeyed her voice, and, led by the beautiful lady, the whole +procession moved off across the mountains back to the lake. + +Among the animals was a team of four oxen which were ploughing at the +time. They followed, too, plough and all, and, they say, to this very +day you may see a well-marked furrow running right across the Myddfai +mountain to the edge of Llyn-y-Fan-Fach, which proves the truth of this +story. + +The disconsolate husband never saw his lady again, but she used +sometimes to appear to her sons, and she gave them such wonderful +knowledge that all three became the most famous doctors in that part +of Wales. + +Llandovery, from which place you may visit the scenes of this legend, +is a charming little town in East Carmarthenshire, situated in glorious +surroundings of mountains, vale, and moorland, where some of the finest +salmon and trout fishing in South Wales may be enjoyed. It stands in the +beautiful Towy Valley, on a branch line which runs up into the mountain +country from Llanelly. Llandovery is famous for its air, which is said +to be the purest and most bracing in the district. + +[Illustration: _Landovery Castle_] + +[Illustration] + + + + +ST. DAVID AND HIS MOTHER + + +St. David, everybody knows, is the patron saint of Wales, but few know +the unique little "village-city," the smallest cathedral city in the +United Kingdom, St. Davids, in the far south-west of Wales; and fewer +still the story of the holy David himself. This story really begins +with St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland. As the old legends tell, +St. Patrick sailed on his mission to Ireland from the neighbourhood of +present-day St. Davids, and he liked the look of the country so well +that many years afterwards he established there a sort of missionary +college known as "Ty Gwyn," or the "White House," and here on the slopes +of Carn Llidi some of the earliest of the old Celtic holy men and women +were educated. + +Among them, some fifteen hundred years ago, was a Welsh Princess named +Non, daughter of Cynyr of Caer Gawch, a powerful chieftain of the +district. Non was as pious as she was beautiful. There were few maidens +in the land who could compare with her. + +But on what seemed to be an evil day--although it became really for +Wales a very lucky one--a barbarous chieftain from the north, called +Sant son of Ceredig, espied the rapturous Non picking flowers on a +lonely part of the hillside, and in the manner of those boisterous times +he decided to carry her off and make her his wife. And so despite her +struggles the unfortunate Non was kidnapped. + +After some while she managed to escape from her fierce captor and +returned to live in a little cottage on the cliffs just south of St. +Davids, where subsequently a son was born to her. At the time of his +birth they say Non clutched at a stone in the wall of her cottage room, +and the marks of her fingers remained on it for ever. This stone was +seen by many people for years afterwards and was eventually placed over +her tomb. + +The little son grew up and was baptised David by a kinsman of Non's, +one St. Ailbe. Like his mother, he was sent to the "Ty Gwyn" to school +and he became a very pious youth. Then he was sent away to the holy +St. Illtyd to be trained as a priest. + +His grandfather Cynyr, who was by no means a holy man, growing +remorseful in his old age, was so much impressed by David's piety, +that for the good of his soul he made over to him all his lands, and +on this estate David founded a sanctuary for men of all tribes and +nationalities, and, to mark the privileged ground, he caused a deep +trench to be dug, and traces of this trench you may find to-day known +as "The Monk's Dyke." + +Here in his sanctuary the holy David lived his pious, peaceful life for +many years, converting the heathen and performing miracles. And when +at last he died his sorrowing companions built over his grave a great +church to his memory, which years afterwards, when David had become +recognised as a saint, was replaced by the wonderful old building which +stands there now--St. David's Cathedral. + +The remains of Non's old cottage on the cliff, which the monks +afterwards turned into a Chapel, may still be seen, and because of her +holy life she also became a saint. Near to the ruined Chapel you will +find, too, St. Non's well, or St. Nunn's well as it is sometimes called, +from which the holy woman drew her water when she lived her lonely life +at the time of St. David's birth. + +Quaint little St. Davids lies far from a railway station, but a road +motor service will take you there in a two hours' journey across +magnificent country from Haverfordwest in Pembrokeshire, or you may +approach it along a wild, hilly road from Fishguard. + +St. Davids is unique: it is literally both village and city. Situated +right by the coast of picturesque St. Bride's Bay on one side and +Whitesand Bay on the other, it occupies a position of peculiar beauty. +Good bathing, fishing and shooting abound; there is a golf course, and, +chief of its attractions, the glorious Norman architecture of its +jewel-like cathedral, its ancient monastic ruins, its old cross and all +the other relics of the careful work of the old ecclesiastical builders +in the far-away days. + +[Illustration: _St. David's Cathedral_] + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE VENGEANCE OF THE FAIRIES + + +Overlooking the sea that washes the beautiful coast of the Gower +Peninsula in Glamorganshire stands the ruined castle of Pennard. All +about it is a waste of sandhills, beneath which, so the old stories have +it, a considerable village lies buried. For it is told that in the old +days, when the lands about Pennard were fertile and populous, the lord +of the castle was holding a great feast one day to rejoice over the +wedding of his daughter. + +This happy event was being celebrated by the villagers too, and, unknown +to lord or serf, by the "Tylwyth Teg," or the fairy folk who abounded in +the neighbourhood, for the little people enjoy an innocent merry-making +as much as do mere mortals. + +And that night, long after the villagers had gone to bed, the +festivities in the castle were continued. Wine flowed free and the +revellers became more and more boisterous. From mere jesting they came +to quarrelling, and, in the midst of their drunken orgy, there was heard +an alarm. A sentry on the walls of the castle reported that he heard +stealthy movements in the distance as of a large number of people +approaching with care. + +The frenzied warriors, fearing a surprise from their enemies, armed +themselves and rushed from the castle to attack the intruders. They, +too, could hear a gentle murmur in the valley below, and towards it they +charged, uttering terrible threats, striking right and left with their +swords at the unseen foe. But, apart from a few shadowy forms that +quickly faded away into the undergrowth, nothing was to be seen, and at +length the knights and soldiers returned rather crestfallen, and much +more sober, to their stronghold. + +Now the truth of the whole matter was that the alarm had been caused +by the festivities of the fairies, and they were so deeply incensed at +having their party broken up by this violent intrusion of wine-maddened +men that they determined to be revenged. + +That very night the whole family set out for Ireland, where they +descended upon a huge mountain of sand, and each one of the small +people, loading himself with as much sand as he could carry, returned +to Pennard and deposited it upon the village at the base of the castle, +intending to bury both village and castle in sand. + +To and fro the fairies went, intent upon their task of vengeance, and, +when morning broke, those in the castle looked out to see what they +thought was a violent sand-storm raging. By mid-day the village below +the castle was overwhelmed, and those in the stronghold began to fear +that it too would be smothered. But fortunately for them the Irish +sand-mountain gave out, and the fairies' complete vengeance was +thwarted. Still, they had destroyed the rich and valuable lands that +belonged to the castle, and from that day its fortunes and those of its +lords began to decline. + +In proof of this story the old Irish records maintain that an +extraordinary storm arose that night and blew away a whole +sand-mountain. + +Few tourists ever explore the beauties of the little Gower Peninsula, +save holiday-makers from the neighbouring town of Swansea; yet it is +a country of amazing charm, with a glorious coast and high ridges of +heather and moorland. It is only about eighty square miles in extent, +but it has over fifty miles of coast. + +Remote from the world, this country, with its churches, castles, and +many prehistoric remains, is an ideal holiday land. + +[Illustration: _Pennard Castle_] + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE OLD WOMAN WHO FOOLED THE DEVIL + + +One of the most beautiful spots in all Wales is the Devil's Bridge--an +easy excursion into the hills from Aberystwyth--which spans the gorge +through which the Mynach cataract descends in four boiling leaps a +distance of two hundred and ten feet. How this place received its name +is an old story, which goes back to the days before the monks of sweetly +named Strata Florida, who subsequently replaced the earlier bridge +across the gorge. + +The beginning of the story is told in an old rhyme which runs:-- + + "_Old Megan Llandunach of Pont-y-Mynach_ + _Had lost her only cow;_ + _Across the ravine the cow was seen,_ + _But to get it she could not tell how._" + + +Such was the sad plight of old Megan, who was bemoaning the loss of her +property on the wrong side of the gorge so many years ago, when there +appeared to her suddenly a cowled monk, whose dark face was scarcely +discernible, with a rosary hanging to his girdle, and a deep but +pleasant voice. + +Enquiring the cause of her distress, the monk, in sympathetic tones, +promised to aid her. He would, he said, build a bridge across the +ravine, so that she might recover her lost cow, if she would promise +to give him the first living being to cross the bridge. + +This seemed a natural enough suggestion to the sorrowing old dame, for +the good monks of the neighbourhood were ever about the countryside, +seeking converts; so Megan agreed, and the monk set to work with amazing +energy and skill to construct the bridge. And as he worked Megan sat on +a boulder and watched him. + +Before sundown the marvellous bridge was finished, and the smiling monk, +walking over it, invited Megan to follow him and seek her cow. But Megan +had been observant. She had noticed two or three things. One, that there +was no cross attached to the monk's rosary; another, that while he was +labouring at his building he had slipped, and his left leg was exposed +through his long habit, and the knee was on the back of the leg, and not +the front; also the leg ended not in a foot, but in a cloven hoof. + +And cunning old Megan was taking no chances. Feeling in the pocket of +her skirt she found a crust, and walking to her side of the bridge she +called to a black cur that was playing about. Hurling the crust across +the bridge she bade the dog fetch it. He ran over the bridge, and Megan, +smiling at the monk, thanked him, and told him to take the dog as his +reward. + +The devil, realising that he had been fooled, disappeared in an +awe-inspiring cloud of smoke and sulphur fumes; but the bridge remained, +and its name to this day recalls the discomfiture of his evil plans. So, +having fooled the devil, Megan was able to recover her lost cow. + +Wordsworth and Borrow, among other famous writers, have immortalised +the impressive beauties of the Devil's Bridge and its roaring cataract. +It is easily reached from that most attractive of Welsh seaside towns, +Aberystwyth, and lies in a country dominated by great Plinlimmon, from +the top of which a view of unrivalled beauty may be obtained. + +All about this country of mountain and moorland are scenes of intense +historic interest and natural beauty. It is a district bleak and bracing +on the summits, warm and sheltered in the valleys, and as yet quite +unspoiled by the crowd, as too is the charming town which is the centre +of this country. + +Aberystwyth retains the quiet charm of an old-world "watering-place," +and glories in its wonderful climate and healing sea breezes that blow +in across Cardigan Bay, which have won for it its reputation in winter +and summer for being a British Biarritz. + +[Illustration: _Devil's Bridge, Aberystwyth_] + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE WOMEN SOLDIERS OF FISHGUARD + + +They tell a story down in Pembrokeshire of how the Welsh country-women +once defeated an invading army. It was in the days of the Napoleonic +wars when, on a winter's afternoon, four hostile ships appeared +unexpectedly off Fishguard Bay. On board were fourteen hundred soldiers +intent upon an invasion of Britain. + +The wild country of the far west of Wales was in those days even more +remote than it is now. In the neighbourhood were but three hundred +militiamen, and the invaders had an easy task in landing at Llanwnda, +about two miles away from modern Fishguard, in a charming sheltered +inlet known as Careg Gwastad Bay. + +But the gallant Welsh determined to drive out the invader. They were +furious, and, armed with scythes and other farm implements, they quickly +gathered together. For such firearms as they had there was little +ammunition, so they stripped the roof of beautiful little St. David's +Cathedral of its lead in order to make bullets. + +And the women of the country followed their men. Clad in their red +cloaks and high black steeple-crowned hats, in the distance they had +all the appearance of regular soldiers, and the leader of the defending +forces was quick to realise this fact. + +He marshalled them into something like military formation and marched +them about in various places where they could be seen by the invading +troops. Up and down hill the willing Welsh women trudged until darkness +fell and they were tired out. + +Meanwhile there was consternation in the invaders' camp. The commander +knew that scarlet was the colour of our soldiers' uniform, and he could +only conclude that overwhelming reinforcements were arriving from the +interior. Believing his cause hopeless, he sent in a letter under a flag +of truce to the British commander, offering to surrender, and within +three days of landing the whole invading force was made prisoner. + +There is an amazing sequel to this invasion, for it seems that most +of the troops employed were criminals, released from French gaols, and +other similar undesirable characters, and since they had failed in their +primary object the French Government was none too anxious to have them +back in France again, and refused to exchange them. + +The British Government was no more pleased than the French to have so +unsavoury a band of ruffians in its midst, and it had at last to force +the Frenchmen to receive their own rogues back again. This was done by +threatening that if the prisoners were not exchanged within a certain +time they would be landed with arms on the coast of Brittany and left +to do their worst. + +The French preferred to have them in control and exchanges were promptly +arranged, the discomfited invaders going back, it is assumed, to the +safety of the French prisons from which they had been brought. + +Careg Gwastad Bay, the scene of this landing, is but one of the many +fascinating little inlets that abound along the coast in the Fishguard +neighbourhood. Excellent fishing--for sea fish, trout, sewin, and often +salmon--abounds off the coast or in the streams. Fishguard is fortunate +in possessing a modern steam-heated hotel close to the station--the +Fishguard Bay--which is equipped with every modern luxury and comfort. + +From Fishguard one can approach, too, that romantic and historic +country known as Kemaes Land, which extends away to the borders of +Cardiganshire, a country--bounded on the north by the cliffs that run +down to the waters of Cardigan Bay--full of old churches, castles, and +strange remains of earlier civilisations, standing remote upon its +mountains and moorlands. + +This is a land of flowers too, for its mild winter climate enables +many plants to flourish in the open that must seek the security of +greenhouses in the bleaker parts of the south. + +[Illustration: _Welsh National Costume_] + +[Illustration] + + + + +HOW BALA LAKE BEGAN + + +There is a Welsh couplet, still well known in the neighbourhood of +beautiful Bala Lake in Merionethshire, which, translated into English, +runs: + + "_Bala old the lake has had, and Bala new_ + _The lake will have, and Llanfor, too._" + + +For there is an ages-old belief in the countryside that Bala will +continue to grow bigger until it has swallowed up the village of +Llanfor, now about a couple of miles from the water's edge. + +According to the old story the site of the original town is near the +middle of the present lake, at a spot opposite Llangower. There, years +and years ago, a peaceful community lived a happy, prosperous life in +their houses clustering around a well called Ffynnon Gwyer, or Gower's +Well. + +Only one very important thing had these long-ago people to remember, and +that was to cover up their well every night, otherwise, as they knew +from their fathers and grandfathers before them, the spirit of the well +would grow angry with them and wreak some dire punishment upon them. + +But one night, after some special festivities, the guardian of the well +forgot his task. Too late this omission was discovered, for as soon as +the last inhabitant was in bed, the well began to gush forth water. + +Soon the whole village was in a state of alarm. The quickly rising +waters began to flow into the cottages, and young and old rushed to +Ffynnon Gower, which they realised was the cause of their distress. +There they saw a great stream of water gushing upward. In their anger +they called upon the negligent guardian, but he, seeing the harm that +had come of his forgetfulness, had fled, though it is said he did not +escape the angry waters, for they overtook him and drowned him +miserably. + +A frenzied effort was made to cover up the well and stop the unwelcome +flow, but it was useless, and the people of old Bala had to escape as +best they could to higher ground. When morning broke they looked out to +where their homes had been and saw, instead of their fields and houses, +a great lake three miles long and a mile wide. + +To-day the lake is five miles long; and they say that on clear days, +when its surface is absolutely calm, you may see at the bottom, off +Llangower, the ruins and chimneys of the old town that was overwhelmed +so long ago. + +And, as the old couplet tells, they say too that the spirit of Gower's +Well is not yet appeased. On stormy days water appears to ooze up +through the ground at new Bala, which is built at the lower end of the +lake, and some day they believe that too will be swamped and the waters +will cover the valley as far down as Llanfor. + +Llyn Tegid is the old name for Bala Lake; it means the lake of +beauty, and Bala well deserves that title. Its shores are verdant and +beautifully wooded, commanding in many places magnificent distant views +of the mountains which encircle it only a few miles away. Its waters +teem with fish; trout up to fourteen pounds and pike twice as big have +been caught there--but the flyfisher must not expect always such giants. +There is salmon-fishing to be had in the Treweryn river in September. + +In the neighbourhood are places of wonderful beauty. Dolgelly, +nestling beneath great Cader Idris, is easily accessible, as also is +that charming seaside town of Barmouth. Bwlch-y-Groes, one of the finest +mountain passes in the Principality, is only ten miles away, and an easy +excursion takes one across another very beautiful pass to Lake Vyrnwy, +which gives to Liverpool its splendid water supply, and provides anglers +with magnificent baskets of Loch Leven trout. + +All around is a paradise for artists and fishermen, and a country rich +in mountain streams, wild woods, and wide, far views unbeaten in any +part of Wales. + +[Illustration: _Bala Lake_] + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE FURRY DAY SONG + + +The celebration of "Furry Day," on May 8th each year, at Helston, in +South Cornwall, is one of the most interesting survivals of an old +custom in the whole country. On "Furry Day" the whole town makes +holiday. The people go first into the surrounding country to gather +flowers and branches, and return about noon, when the Furry dance begins +and continues until dusk; the merrymakers, hand in hand, dancing through +the streets and in and out of the houses, the doors of which are kept +open for the purpose. + +The origin of the word "Furry," and of the song and dance, is lost in +the ages. Some authorities hold that these celebrations are a survival +of the old Roman Floralia, others that it began in celebration of a +great victory gained by the Cornish over the Saxons. The words and +music, as they have come down to us, show many signs of Elizabethan +origin. The music reproduced here is from a very old setting and +contains many crude harmonies unfamiliar at the present day. + +There is one line of the song, "God bless Aunt Mary Moses," that most +people will find incomprehensible. It refers to the Virgin Mary, "Aunt" +being among the Cornish a term of great respect; "Moses" being a +corruption of the old Cornish word "Mowes," a maid. "Mary Moses" means +literally "Mary the Maid." + + +THE FURRY-DAY SONG + +[Illustration: THE FURRY-DAY SONG (Sheet Music page 1)] + +[Illustration: THE FURRY-DAY SONG (Sheet Music page 2)] + + + Robin Hood and little John, + They both are gone to fair, O! + And we will go to the merry green wood + To see what they do there, O! + And for to chase, O! + To chase the buck and doe. + + With Halantow, + Rumble Ow! + For we were up as soon as any day, O! + And for to fetch the Summer home, + The Summer and the May, O! + For Summer is a-come, O! + And Winter is a-gone, O! + + Where are those Spaniards, + That make so great a boast, O? + They shall eat the grey goose feather, + And we will eat the roast, O, + In every land, O, + The land where'er we go. + With _Halantow, &c._ + + As for Saint George, O, + Saint George he was a Knight, O! + Of all the Knights in Christendom, + Saint Georgy is the right, O! + In every land, O, + The land where'er we go. + With _Halantow, &c_. + + God bless Aunt Mary Moses, + And all her powers and might, O, + And send us peace in merry England, + Both day and night, O, + And send us peace in merry England, + Both now and evermore, O! + With _Halantow, &c_. + + + + +THE FURRY-DANCE TUNE + +[Illustration: THE FURRY-DANCE TUNE (Sheet Music)] + +The simple air only of "The Furry Dance" is given here. It was probably +originally played by a musician on the pipe, accompanying himself on the +tabor. + +Remote Cornwall is still full of queer old customs and survivals of +other days. Helston, the "Metropolis" of that picturesque wild district +near the Lizard, forms a perfect setting for this interesting relic of +the past, and an ideal centre for those who wish to enjoy the beauties +and mystery of one of the most remote corners of our island. + +[Illustration: _The Furry Dance To-day_] + + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: + +G.W.R: The Line to Legend Land + +BALA Page 48 +CARREGGWASTAD COVE Page 44 +DEVIL'S BRIDGE Page 40 +ST. DAVID'S Page 52 +PENNARD CASTLE Page 36 +LLYN-Y-FAN-FACH Page 28 + +Vol. One Back End] + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Legend Land, Vol. 1, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEGEND LAND, VOL. 1 *** + +***** This file should be named 20170.txt or 20170.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/1/7/20170/ + +Produced by Chris Curnow, David Garcia and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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