"a natural seaside course, with charming views in all
directions. The holes are rather short and tricky, and put a premium
on local knowledge. Last, but not least, Lelant can boast a climate
absolutely ideal for golf in winter." Lelant Church is interesting,
but has lost its fine old bench-ends and screen. It is connected with
the memory of a former vicar, Parson Polkinghorne, who was a renowned
ghost-layer, a redoubtable fox-hunter, and a skilled hurler. His
exorcising formula is said to have commenced with the words "in Nommy
Dommy," and we are told it was in Latin throughout--as we may believe
from this specimen. But the days of the exorcist are over now--there
are no ghosts to lay, or only such as will not be laid.
There is a ferry at Lelant, taking the traveller across the Hayle
creek to sandy Phillack, one of the mother-parishes of Hayle. This is
the narrowest section of the Cornish peninsula, and from Hayle River
to Mount's Bay is only about four miles across; a good road makes the
journey from sea to sea. It is just a neck of land dividing north from
south, and persons susceptible to climatic change say that the
difference can be noticed when they get half-way across. Hayle, a
little waterside town of less than two thousand inhabitants, is not
particularly attractive. There is a charm in the endless sand-blown
dunes that stretch on both sides of the estuary, but dismal weather
can make them desolate, and wild weather converts them into a howling
waste; while Hayle itself, with some small shipping and industry, is a
place that the lover of beauty does not often care for. But it is not
altogether to be despised, and it is conveniently situated on the main
Great Western line. This Hayle district was once the great
landing-place of saints from Ireland, who came here rather numerously
about fifteen centuries since; those who came from Wales usually
landed near Padstow or came to Cornwall by way of Devon. One such
Irish saint was Gwythian, who built his oratory a few miles north of
Hayle, and the remains of this rugged little church have lately been
rescued from the sands, with a special service of commemoration held
over it. The Irish saints brought their style of building with them,
and such relics as those of St. Piran and St. Gwythian are exactly
similar in style to the oldest memorials of the same nature in
Ireland. The masonry was of the simplest--a mere laying of rough
stones together without mortar. Some hav
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