and hollows, with alluring stretches of weeded beach and firm
shell-sand. Fistral Beach and the bracing headlands have their own
special charm; but the popular beach at Newquay is that which reaches
towards St. Columb and Trevalgue Head. Visitors find particular
delight in the Island, a mass of rock that is really insular at high
water, and the numerous caves are a constant temptation to young and
old explorers. There are barrows also above the Crigga Rocks, linking
modern Newquay with a far-forgotten past; and at St. Columb Porth,
generally called Porth for short, are traces of submerged forest.
Trevalgue Head is practically an island, joined to the mainland by a
narrow bridge; and in tempestuous weather this is a grand spot for
noting the force and sublimity of Cornish seas. The Banqueting Hall
and Cathedral Cavern are especially fine caves here. Of course, care
must always be taken to watch the tides, or trouble may be expected.
About a mile inland from the Porth is the village of St. Columb Minor,
the mother-parish of Newquay; farther inland still is St. Columb
Major, and both churches appear to be dedicated to a maiden Columba,
who suffered martyrdom in Gaul. We must not think of the great Irish
Columba here. The district has long been a chief centre of Cornwall's
popular game of hurling, which still enjoys an annual revival,
sometimes in the village itself, sometimes on the sands reaching
towards Newquay. The ball used on these occasions is a little smaller
than a cricket-ball, and has a coating of silver; it is inscribed with
the verse--

"St. Columb Major and Minor,
Do your best;
In one of your parishes
I must rest."

The sides are not now confined to the parishes, but usually consist of
"Married _versus_ Single," or "Townsmen _versus_ Countrymen." The ball
is thrown up and hurled from hand to hand, no kicking being allowed;
and the game is won by him who reaches the opponents' goal with it.
From Carew's account of the game as formerly played, we may judge that
a very extensive ground was used; he speaks of the players as taking
"their way over hills, dales, hedges, ditches--yea, and thorou bushes,
briers, mires, plashes, and rivers whatsoever--so as you shall
sometimes see twenty or thirty lie tugging together in the water,
scrambling and scratching for the ball. A play verily both rude and
rough." A writer of half a century since gives this description: "A
ball about the size of a cric