Betty Stoggs and Jan the Monster - part 2

'...The old people used to say--they wouldn't put the poor innocent chield to work to Bal, for fear the great rough heathens from Lelant might overcome her; so they kept her at home, and the old man would brag how his Betty could cut furze and turf. Instead of staying at home in the evenings, Betty was always racing round the lanes to class-meetings; for she had been a "professor ever since' she was a chield." Betty was an only child, and the old people had saved a little money, and they hoped some one "above the common" would marry her. In Higher Side there lived a man called Jan the Mounster (monster), and, tempted by the bit of money, he resolved to lay himself out to catch Betty. Jan became a converted character--he met in the same class with Betty, a expressed himself as being "so fond of the means of grace." Things went on in this way for some time, and it was found that Betty "had met with a misfortune." The old people were now in a great hurry to marry their daughter, and promised Jan money enough. to buy a set of cheene (china), and lots of beautiful clome (earthenware); but Mounster required more than this, and fought off. He left the "people," that he mightn't be read out. He said he was heartily sick of the lot, told strange stories about their doings, and became as bad a character as ever. Time advanced, and Betty 's mother--who was herself a wretchedly dirty woman, and, as people said, too fond of the "drop of drink "-- saw that she must lose no chance of making her daughter an honest woman. So she went to Penzance and bought a new bed--a real four-poster--a new dresser, painted bright lead and liver colour--an eight-day clock, in a painted mahogany case--a mass of beautiful clome--and a glass milk-cup. When all these things were ranged in cottage, Jan was well enough pleased with them, and hung his "great turnip of a watch" up in the middle of the dresser, to see how it would look. When he had satisfied himself he told the old woman he would marry Betty out of hand, if she would give them their great pretty, bright, warming-pan to hang opposite the door. This was soon settled, and Jan the Mounster and Betty Stogs were married...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

Fairy Funeral - part 1

'THIS and two or three other bits of folk-lore were communicated to the Athaenaum by me, when Ambrose Merton (Mr Thorns) solicited such contributions.

The parish church of Lelant is curiously situated amidst hills of blown sand, near the entrance of the creek of Hayle. The sandy waste around the church is called the Towen; and this place was long the scene of the midnight gambols of the Small People. In the adjoining village--or, as it is called in Cornwall, the "church-town "--lived an old woman who had been, according to her own statement, a frequent witness to the use made by the fairies of the Towen. Her husband, also, had seen some extraordinary scenes on the same spot. From her--to me, oft-repeated description--I get the following tale:-- lt was the fishing season; and Richard had been to St Ives for some fish. He was returning, laden with pilchards, on a beautiful moonlight night; and as he ascended the hill from St Ives, he thought he heard the bell of Lelant Church tolling. Upon a nearer approach, he saw lights in the church; and most distinctly did the bell toll--not with its usual clear sound, but dull and heavy, as if it had been muffled, scarcely awakening any echo. Richard walked towards the church, and cautiously, but not without fear, approaching one of the windows, looked in. At first he could not perceive any one within, nor discover whence the light came by which everything was so distinctly illuminated. At length he saw, moving along the centre aisle, a funeral procession. The little people who crowded the aisle, although they all looked very sorrowful, were not dressed in any mourning garments--so far from it, they wore wreaths of little roses, and carried branches of the blossoming myrtle...'[cont.]

Hunt 1903

Hunts notes on tom and the giant Blunderbus

'The similarity of this story to the well-known tale of "Tom Hickathrift" will strike every one. It might be supposed that the old story of the strong man of the Isle of Ely had been read by some Cornish man, and adapted to the local peculiarities, This may possibly have been the case, but I do not think it probable. I first heard the story from a miner, on the floors of Ding-Doug Mine, during my earliest tour in search of old stories. I have since learned that it was a common story with the St Ives nurses, who told it to amuse or terrify their children. Recently, I have had the same tale communicated to me by a friend, who got it from a farmer living in Lelant. This story is confined to the parishes of Lelant, St Ives, Sancreed, Towednach, Moors, and Zennor. Mr Halliwell thinks the adventures of Tons Hickathrift are connected with "some of the insurrections in the Isle of Ely, such as that of Herewood, described in Wright's ' Essays,' ii. 91" Now, Herewood the Saxon is said to have taken refuge in the extreme part of Cornwall, and we are told of many romantic adventures, chiefly in connection with the beautiful daughter of Alef, a Cornish chief. May it not be, that here we have the origin of the story as it is told in Lincolnshire and in Cornwall?'

Hunt 1903

Part 1 of Tom and the giant Blunderbus

[part 1] 'YOUNG giant, who does not appear to have been known by any other name than Tom, lived somewhere westward of Hayle, probably in Lelant. Tom would eat as much meat as three men, and when he was in the humour he could do as much work as half a dozen. Howbeit, Tom was a lazy fellow, and spent most of his time wandering about the parish with his hands in his pockets. Occasionally Tom would have an industrious fit; then, if he found any of his neighbours hedging, he would turn to and roll in all the largest rocks from over the fields, for "grounders" [b] This was the only work Tom took delight in; he was won't to say, he could feel his strength about such work as that Tom didn't appear so very big a man in those days, when all men were twice the size they are now. He was about four feet from shoulder to shoulder, square built, and straight all the way down from shoulder to cheens (loins).

Tom's old mother was constantly telling her idle son to do something to earn his food, but the boy couldn't find any job to his mind for a long time. At last he undertook to drive a brewer's wain, in the hope of getting into plenty of strong drink, and he went to live in Market-Jew, where the brewery was. The, first day he was so employed, he was going to St Ives with his load of beer, and on the road he saw half a score of men trying to lift a fallen tree on to a "draw." It was, however, more than the whole of them could do.

"Stand clear!" shouts Tom.

He put his hands, one on each side of the tree, and lifted it on the "draw," without so much as saying "Ho!' to his oxen, or looking behind him. The feat was performed in Ludgvan Lees, and a little farther on was a giant's place diverting the road, which should have gone straight to St Ives but for it. This place was hedged in with great rocks, which no ten men of these times could move. They call them the Giant's Hedges to the present day. There was a gate on that side of the giant's farm which was nearest Market-Jew, and another on that side which joined the highway leading on to St Ives. Tom looked at the gate for some time, half disposed to drive through, but eventually he decided on proceeding by the ordinary road. When, however, Tom was coming back from St Ives with his empty wain, his courage screwed up by the influence of some three or four gallons of strong beer which he had drunk, he began to reason with himself thus

"The king's highway ought not to be twisting and turning like an angle-twitch. [c] It should go straight through here. What right has the giant to keep his place closed, stopping honester men than he ever was longer on the road home? If everybody were of my mind, the road would soon be opened. Faith, I'll drive through. He wouldn't eat me, I suppose. My old mammy never told me I was to come to my end that way. They say the giant has had scores of wives. What becomes of them nobody can tell; yet there are always more ready to supply their place. Well, that 's no business of mine. I never met the man to make me turn back yet; so come along, Neat and Comely," shouts Tom to the oxen, opening the great gate for them to pass through. On went Tom, without seeing anything of the giant or of anybody else, except the fat cattle of all sorts in the fields. After driving about a mile, Tom came to a pair of gates in a high wall, which was close to and surrounding the giant's castle...'

Hunt 1903

Aunt Nancy and the giant of St Michaels Mount

[cont. from St Michaels Mount Giant grows old] 'We learn, however, from undoubted authority, that some time after this, Tom, the giant of Lelant, visited the giant on the Mount, and, finding him half starved, he took his aunt Nancy from Gulval to see his friend, with a large supply of butter and eggs. The old giant was exceedingly glad to see the farmer's wife, bought all her store at a very extravagant price, and bargained and paid in advance for more. He had a store of wealth in the caverns of the Mount. The knowing old woman kept him well supplied as long as the giant had money to pay her; and aunt Nancy's family became the wealthiest in the parish of Gulval.'

Hunt 1903

Trencrobben Giants

'THE rough granite hill of Trecrobben rises in almost savage grandeur from the wooded lands which form the park of Trevetha, close by the picturesque village of Lelant. From the summit of this hill may be surveyed one of the most striking panoramic views in Cornwall...

...Let the observer now turn his face northward, and a new and varied scene lies before him. Within two miles the waters of St Ives' Bay break against the cliffs. On the left is the creek of Hayle, which has been fashioned by the energy of man into a useful harbour, and given rise to the foundation of two extensive iron-foundries. Between those and the sea are the hills of blown sand, which have ever been the homes of the Fairy people....

....To the left, towards the sea, rises the cenotaph of Knill, an eccentric man, who evidently sought to secure some immortality by this building, and the silly ceremonials carried on around it; the due performance of which he has secured by bequests to the Corporation of St Ives. Around this the mining district of St Ives is seen, and her fishing-boats dotting the sea give evidence of another industry of vast importance to the town and neighbourhood. Westward of St Ives, hills more brown and rugged than any which have yet been viewed stretch away to Zennor, Morva, and St Just, and these, girding the scene beneath our feet, shut out from us the region of the Land's End.

On the summit of this hill, which is only surpassed in savage grandeur by Cam Brea, the giants built a castle--the four entrances to which still remain in Cyclopean massiveness to attest the Herculean powers by which such mighty blocks were piled upon each other. There the giant chieftains dwelt in awful state. Along the serpentine road, passing up the hill to the principal gateway, they dragged their captives, and on the great flat rocks within the castle they sacrificed them. Almost every rock still bears some name connected with the giants--"a race may perish, but the name endures." The treasures of the giants who dwelt here are said to have been buried in the days of their troubles, when they were perishing before the conquerors of their land. Their gold and jewels were hidden deep in the granite caves of this hill, and secured by spells as potent as those which Merlin placed upon his "hoarded treasures." They are securely preserved, even to the present day, and carefully guarded from man by the Spriggans, or Trolls, of whom we have to speak in another page.

[a] Bryn-whella, the highest hill, according to Mr Bellows.'

Hunt 1903