The Mermaids Vengence - part 9

"...One midnight, Walter, who had been dancing and drinking for some hours, left the cottage wearied with his excesses, and although not drunk, he was much excited with- wine. His pathway lay along the edge of the cliffs, amidst bushes of furze and heath, and through several irregular, zigzag ways. There were lateral paths striking off from one side of the main path, and leading down to the sea-shore. Although it was moonlight, without being actually aware of the error, Walter wandered into one of those; and before he was awake to his mistake, he found himself on the sands. He cursed his stupidity, and, uttering a blasphemous oath, he turned to retrace his steps.

The most exquisite music which ever flowed from human ups fell on his ear; he paused to listen, and collecting his unbalanced thoughts, he discovered that it was the voice of a woman singing a melancholy dirge..." [cont.]

Hunt 1903

Wish Hounds - part 1

From Cresswell 1921

'THE tradition of the Midnight Hunter and his headless hounds--always, in Cornwall, associated with Tregeagle--prevails everywhere.

The Abbot's Way on Dartmoor, an ancient road which extends into Cornwall, is said to be the favourite coursing ground of "the wish or wisked hounds of. Dartmoor," called also the "yell-hounds," and the "yeth-hounds." The valley of the Dewerstone is also the place of their midnight meetings. ...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

The Demon Tregeagle - part 2

'..When midnight is on the moor or on the mountains, and the night winds whistle amidst the rugged cairns, the shrieks of Tregeagle are distinctly heard. We know, then, that he is pursued by the demon dogs, and that till daybreak he must fly with all speed before them. The voice of Tregeagle is everywhere, and yet he is unseen by human eye. Every reader will at once perceive that Tregeagle belongs to the mythologies of the oldest nations, and that the traditions of this wandering spirit in Cornwall, which centre upon one tyrannical magistrate, are but the appropriation of stories which belong to every age and country. Tradition thus tells Tregeagle's tale.


There are some men who appear to be from their births given over to the will of tormenting demons. Such a man was Tregeagle. He is as old as the hills, yet there are many circumstances in the story of his life which appear to remove him from this remote antiquity. Modern legends assert him to belong to comparatively modern times, and say that, without doubt, he was one of the Tregeagles who once owned Trevorder near Bodmin. We have not, however, much occasion to trouble ourselves with the man or his life; it is with the death and the subsequent existence of a myth that we are concerned.

Certain it is that the man Tregeagle was diabolically wicked. He seems to have been urged on from one crime to another until the cup of sin was overflowing.

Tregeagle was wealthy beyond most men of his time, and his wealth purchased for him that immunity, which the Church, in her degenerate days, too often accorded to those who could aid, with their gold or power, the sensual priesthood. As a magistrate, he was tyrannical and unjust, and many an innocent man was wantonly sacrificed by him for the purpose of hiding his own dark deeds. As a landlord, he was rapacious and unscrupulous, and frequently so involved his tenants in his toils, that they could not escape his grasp...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

Cadbury, Dolbury and the dragon

'...Cadbury Castle, a British camp on a lonesome hill, such as could not fail to stimulate local superstion.

"If Cadbury and Dolbury dolven were,

All England might plough with a golden share."

Dolbury is another camp-crowned hill, 4 miles south-east, across the Exe.  It is said that in teh bosum of these hills a vast treasure is hidden, and gaurded by a fiery dragon who, at "the mid-hour of night", may be seen on his flight from one to the other, but no English Siegfried has yet acheived the adventure of this double Drachenfels.'

Hope Moncrieff 1895

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

Knockers

'AT Ransom Mine the "Knockers" were always very active in their subterranean operations. In every part of the mine their "knockings" were heard, but most especially were they busy in one particular "end." There was a general impression that great wealth must exist at this part of the "lode." Yet, notwithstanding the inducements of very high "tribute" were held out to the miners, no pair of men could be found brave enough to venture on the ground of the "Bockles." An old man and his son, called Trenwith, who lived near Bosprenis, went out one midsummer eve, about midnight, and watched until they saw the "Smae People" bringing up the shining ore. It is said they were possessed of some secret by which they could communicate with the fairy people. Be this as it may, they told the little miners that they would save them all the trouble of breaking down the ore, that they would bring "to grass" for them, one-tenth of the "richest stuff," and leave it properly dressed, if they would quietly give them up this end. An agreement of some kind was come to. The old man and his son took the "pitch," and in a short time realised much wealth. The old man never failed to keep to his bargain, and leave the tenth of the ore for his friends. He died. The son was avaricious and selfish. He sought to cheat the Knockers, but he ruined himself by so doing. The "lode" failed; nothing answered with him; disappointed, he took to drink, squandered all the money his father had made, and died a beggar.'

Hunt 1903

Dean Coombe - The Pool of the Black Hound

'In the parish of Dean Combe is a narrow wooded valley, watered by a streamlet, that in two or three places falls into cascades of considerable beauty. At the foot of one of these is a deep hollow called the Hound's Pool. Its story is as follows : There once lived in this hamlet a weaver of great fame and skill. After long prosperity he died, and was buried. But the next day he appeared sitting at the loom in his chamber, working diligently as when he was alive. His sons applied to the parson, who went accordingly to the foot of the stairs, and heard the noise of the weaver's shuttle above. " Knowles !" he said, " come down ; this is no place for thee." "I will," said the weaver, "as soon as I have worked out my quill " (the quill is the shuttle full of wool). " Nay," said the Vicar, "thou hast been long enough at thy work; come down at once !" So when the spirit came down, the Vicar took a handful of earth from the churchyard and threw it in his face. And in a moment it became a black hound. " Follow me," said the Vicar, and it followed him to the gate of the wood. And when they got there, it seemed as if all the trees in the wood were "coming together," so great was the wind. Then the Vicar took a nutshell with a hole in it, and led the hound to the pool below the waterfall. "Take this shell," he said, "and when thou shall have dipped out the pool with if, thou mayest rest, not before." And at mid-day or at midnight the hound may still be seen at its work. —Notes and Queries, 1 S., ii. 515'

Hope 1893