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accidentally, when coming from London to Kilkhampton to his father's funeral, leaving a son, William Henry, third Earl of Bath, seven years of age when his father died. Thus, as was said, at the same time there were three Earls of Bath above ground. William Henry died at the age of seventeen, in 1711; and then the Granville property was divided between the sisters of Charles, second Earl of Bath, — Jane, who married Sir William Gower, ancestor of the Dukes of Sutherland; and Grace, who at the age of eight married George, afterwards first Lord Carteret, then aged eleven.

The letters of this little pair to one another, when the husband was at school, and she at Haynes, exist in the possession of Lord John Thynne.

Stowe house was pulled down. Within the memory of one man, grass grew and was mown in the meadow where sprang up Stowe house, and grew and was mown in the meadow where Stowe had been.

A few crumbling walls only mark the site of the old home of the Granvilles.1

The Cornish people in former days were passionately fond of theatrical performances. In numerous parts of Cornwall there exist green dells or depressions in the surface of the ground, situated generally on a moor. These depressions have been assisted by the hand of man to form rude theatres: the slopes were terraced for seats, and on fine summer days, at the "revels" of the locality, were occupied by crowds of spectators, whilst village actors performed

1 A picture of old Stowe is in the possession of Lord John Thynne; another in that of Mrs. Martyn of Harleston, Torquay.

on the turf stage.1 Originally the pieces acted were sacred, curious mysteries, of which specimens remain, relating to the creation, or the legendary history of St. Mary, or the passion of the Saviour, the prototypes of the Ammergau Passions-spiel. These in later times gave way to secular pieces, not always very choice in subject, and with the broadest of jokes in the speeches of the performers; not worse, however, than are to be found in Shakspeare, and which were tolerated in the days of Elizabeth. These dramatical perfomances were in full vigor when Wesley preached in Cornwall. He seized on these rude green theatres, and preached the gospel from their turfy platforms to wondering and agitated crowds, which thronged the grassy slopes.

The Cornish people became Methodists, and playgoing became sinful. The doom of these dramas was sealed when the place of their performances was turned into an arena for revivals. The camp-meeting supplanted the drama.

But, though these plays are things of the past, the dramatic instinct survives among the Cornish people. There is scarce a parish in which some are not to be found who are actors by nature. For telling a story, with power of speech, expression, and gesture, they have not their equals in England among unprofessionals.

One of the most brilliant "raconteurs times was Mr. Hicks, mayor of Bodmin.

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Some years ago a member sauntering into the Cos

1 There is one such not far from Morwenstow, in the parish of Kilklampton.

mopolitan Club would find a ring of listeners gathered about a chair. In that ring he would recognize the faces of Thackeray, Dickens, and other literary celebrities, wiping away the tears which streamed from their eyes between each explosion of laughter. He would ask, in surprise, what was the attraction.

"Only the little fat Cornishman from Bodmin telling a story.” '

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His tales were works of art, wrought out with admirable skill, every point sharpened, every detail considered, and the whole told with such expression and action as could not be surpassed. His "Rabbit and Onions" has been essayed by many since his voice has been hushed; but the copies are pale, and the outlines blurred.

The subject of this memoir had inherited the Cornish love of story-telling, and the power of telling stories with dramatic force. But he had not the skill of Mr. Hicks of telling a long story, and keeping his hearers thrilling throughout the recital, breathless lest they should lose a word. Mr. Hawker contented himself with brief anecdotes, but those he told to perfection.

I shall, in the course of my narrative, give a specimen or two of stories told by common Cornish peasants. Alas that I cannot reproduce the twinkling eye, the droll working countenances, and the agitated hands, all assistants in the story-telling!

1 He was formerly governor of the lunatic-asylum at Bodmin, and afterwards clerk of the Board of Guardians, and in turn mayor of Bodmin. Being very fat, he had himself once announced at dinner as "The Corporation of Bodmin."

CHAPTER III.

Description of Morwenstow. - The Anerithmon Gelasma. - Source of the Ta mar.-Tonacombe. - Morwenstow Church. -Norm an Chevron-Moulding. -Chancel. — Altar.-Shooting Rubbish. The Manning Bed. - The Yellow Poncho. — The Vicarage.—Mr. Tom Knight. - The Stag, Robin Hood.-Visitors. - The Silent Tower of Bottreaux. The Pet of Bos

castle.

A WRITER in "The Standard" gives this description of Morwenstow: "No railway has as yet come near Morwenstow, and none will probably ever approach it nearer than Bude. The coast is iron-bound. Strangely contorted schists and sandstones stretch away northward in an almost unbroken line of rocky wall to the point of Hartland; and to the south-west a bulwark of cliffs, of very similar character, extends to and beyond Tintagel, whose rude walls are sometimes seen projected against the sunset in the far distance. The coast scenery is of the grandest description, with its spires of splintered rock, its ledges of green turf, inaccessible, but tempting from the rare plants which nestle in the crevices, its sealhaunted caverns, its wild birds (among which the red-legged chough can hardly be reckoned any longer, so much has it of late years lessened in numbers),'

1 This is inaccurate. There is scarce a cliff along this coast which has not its pair of choughs building in it. On the day on which this was written, I

the miles of sparkling blue sea over which the eye ranges from the summits ablaze and fragrant with furze and heather; and here and there the little coves of yellow sand, bound in by towering blackened walls, haunts which seem specially designed for the sea-elves,

'Who chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
When he comes back.'

"Even in bright weather, and in summer, — in spite of the beauty and quiet of the scene, and in spite, too, of the long, deep valleys, filled with wood, which, in the parish of Morwenstow especially, descend quite to the sea, and give an impression of extreme stillness and seclusion, no one can wander along the summit of the cliffs without a consciousness that he is looking on a giant, at rest indeed for a time, but more full of strength and more really terrible than any of the Cormorans or the Goemagots who have left their footprints and their strongholds on the hills of Cornwall. The sea and the coast here are, in truth, pitiless; and, before the construction of the haven at Bude, a vessel had no chance whatever of escape which approached within a certain distance of the rocks. Such a shipwreck as is described in Gait's story of The Entail'-when persons standing on the cliff, without the smallest power to help, could see the vessel driven onward, could watch every motion on its deck, and at last see it dashed to pieces close under their feet — has more than once been ob.

went out on Morwenstow cliff, and saw two red-legged choughs flying above A friend tells me he has counted six or seven together on Bude sands.

me.

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