ery frequent walks to
Newquay. As a commercial centre it may freely be admitted that
Crantock is limited. Its chief link with civilisation is the tiny
post-office, which is also a provision store; but Cornwall has
acquaintance with a kind of glorified hawking or peddling with which
dwellers in town have no concern. A shop on wheels may occasionally be
seen in the heart of some quiet hamlet, surrounded by speculative
housewives and wondering children. But Crantock has its charm of the
present, as well as a delightful association with the past. Close to
its undulating slopes lies the grandeur of a glorious coast, meeting
the deep blues and greens of the Atlantic. On the headland across the
Bay there are barrows that tell of days before the coming of Saxon and
Norman; and among these sport numberless rabbits, vanishing with
marvellous quickness at the slightest movement. In storm all is
magnificence; in calm there is the brooding of a fathomless peace. It
is a perfect rest to lie on the sandy dunes or breezy warrens, gazing
dreamily at sky and waters. The air rings with the cry of sea-fowl and
the song of the lark, while from beyond comes the eternal wash of
waves or the low boom from hidden caves. Blended with these comes the
more homelike sound of cattle, and often the laugh of children. At
nightfall the village and its surrounding meadows soon become
slumberous. The field-paths and lanes become utterly lonely and
solemn. Bats swoop down, and around the isolated farms may be heard
the strange cry of the owl. It is little wonder that superstition dies
slowly in such an atmosphere; and there was one such superstition
that long lingered around the Gannel gorge. Perhaps it is not yet
quite dead, but is told by some mothers to their children at
nightfall.

[Illustration: CRANTOCK CHURCH.

_Photo by Alex. Old._]

Penpoll Creek is reached by a delightful wild-flower lane leading from
Crantock; it is the quickest way into Newquay. What may be called the
main road goes inland, by Trevemper Bridge, a good four
miles--sometimes to be chosen instead of taking the ford. The Gannel
is only a small stream in itself, but here, at its sandy mouth, it
broadens to a considerable width, and flows with rapid current. At
Penpoll the road runs to meet the river on either side, and there is a
narrow plank-bridge by which travellers can pass dryshod when the tide
is low. But the banks of sand are very shallow, and are quickly
flooded by the