passed; the river was running swiftly, and waves
were leaping hungrily about the usual track of passage. Yet it meant a
long delay to go round by the bridge, and the occasion was pressing.
Merging all his virtue into one brave deed, the man plunged into the
boiling torrent, and never reached the other side. In consideration of
this last action the doom that would otherwise have been his was
mitigated into a nobler penance. He is permitted to haunt the shores,
and by his cries to warn passengers when the ford has become perilous.
So does he save others and work out his own salvation.

Immediately beyond the Warren, with its old-world tumuli, is Fistral
Bay, the eastern point of which is Towan Head, giving Newquay its
finest promenade. Here, just beyond the golf-links, are two of the
largest hotels, and beyond these is the lifeboat-house, with its slip
for launching. Beneath are caverns and natural tunnels once devoted to
smuggling; while a memorial of old Newquay's other industry exists in
the quaint Huer's House, on the eastern point of the headland. It was
from this look-out that the hue-and-cry was raised when the shoals of
pilchards were sighted; a man being on watch here, to give signal to
the fishing-boats. But the pilchards do not come so far eastward now;
the house remains to remind Newquay, now in the day of its pride and
fashion, that it was a humble lowly fishing village. Carew, three
centuries since, spoke of "newe Kaye, a place in the north coast of
Pydar Hundred, so called because in former times the neighbours
attempted to supplie the defect of nature by art, in making there a
kay for the rode of shipping."

There is usually some amount of charm about a harbour; but neither the
harbour nor even the sea is visible from the streets of Newquay,
except in rare glimpses. Modern Newquay seems to have striven to
render itself uninteresting; Mr. Hind says that it is the ugliest
though the most popular coast-town in Cornwall. Of course, this only
applies to the town, not to its situation, its fine cliffs and broad
sands; Newquay townsfolk might with a little foresight have made their
leading street into a most attractive promenade by leaving one side
open towards the sea. As it is, the streets are resorted to for
shopping and business purposes, and for nothing else; they have
nothing else to offer. Commonplace on this plateau above the cliffs,
the coast becomes glorious below, eaten out as it is into grand caves