On the opposite side of the estuary, high on the cliffs, lies the small
village of Portlemouth. The cross-shaped church is dedicated to a Celtic
saint, St Winwaloe, locally called St Onolaus. A proverb without much
point (probably only the fragment of a more coherent saying) mentions St
Winwaloe amongst several saints whose days fall on windy dates.

'First comes David, next comes Chad,
And then comes Winneral, as though he were mad,
White or black,
On old house thack [thatch].'

[St David's Day, March 1; St Chad's Day, March 2; St Winwaloe's Day,
March 3.]

In his church here is a very finely carved screen, and of one of the
figures on it Mr Baring-Gould tells an amusing story: 'The sixth is Sir
John Schorne, a Buckinghamshire rector, who died in 1308, and was
supposed to have conjured the devil into a boot. He was venerated
greatly as a patron against ague and the gout. There is a jingle
relative to him:

'"To Maister John Schorne, that blessed man born,
For the ague to him we apply,
Which judgeth with a bote; I beshrew his heart's rote
That will trust him, and it be I."'

South of Portlemouth the land ends in the grand headland of Prawle
Point, the most southerly point in Devon. Prawle Point is very striking,
and is 'principally composed of gneiss rock, which on the western side
is weathered like a surface of snow which has been exposed to the sun's
rays. It is everywhere broken into crags.' Prawle Point--'Prol in
Anglia'--was known to foreigners for many centuries; and Mr R. J. King,
in an admirable article on Devonshire, says that it 'is mentioned by an
ancient commentator on Adam of Bremen's "Historia Ecclesiastica," as
one of the stations at which vessels touched on their voyage from Ripa
in Denmark. The passage was made from the "Sincfala," near Bruges, and
"the station beyond 'Prol'" is St Matthieu--one day's sail. Adam of
Bremen dates about 1070, and his commentator a little later.'[6] St
Matthieu is in Brittany.

[Footnote 6: 'Sketches and Studies.']

To the south of Salcombe rise the great cliffs of Bolt Head, and a few
miles farther to the west is Bolt Tail. Mr Norway points out that 'no
other town in South Devon possesses, nor, indeed, more than one or two
on any coast, a headland so high and dark and jagged as the entrance to
the harbour. It is wild and rugged like a Cornish headland, and the walk
across it to Bolt Tail is the finest between Portland and the