h family, the duellist Mohun, is a
prominent figure in Thackeray's _Esmond_. The Mohuns, coming from
Dunster, settled at Hall House in this parish in the fourteenth
century; it was doubtless in connection with them that the church once
belonged to a Bridgwater foundation. But the Mohuns had removed to
Boconnoc by the time that they achieved their greatest notoriety, in
the person of Lord Charles, some of whose duels partook rather of the
nature of assassination than of fair fight, the most notable being his
slaying of the actor Mountford. It was in keeping with his life that
Mohun should die in a combat of such fierceness that both the
combatants, himself and the Duke of Hamilton, received mortal wounds.
Hall House, near the Bodinnick side of the ferry from Fowey, is now a
farm, embodying some remains of the old mansion. The Hall Walk above
this eastern bank of the river gives a magnificent view of Fowey town
and harbour. Fowey itself needs to be seen from such a spot to be
fitly appreciated. The house was taken and held for the King by Sir
Richard Grenville, and it is said that Charles, who was here in
August, 1644, was nearly struck by a ball from across the river, Fowey
being at that time in the hands of the Parliamentarian Essex.

Bodinnick is just a tiny hamlet, a small cascade of houses tumbling to
the riverside, with its own stone slip to meet the ferry at its foot.
The road to this ferry is so steep as to be almost precipitous, and
the cottages abutting on its side are embowered in fragrant bloom.
There is a runnel of water at the roadside, and in one place this
water is collected in a round stone basin that looks immensely old;
from this it trickles forth again with coolness and musical plash.
Having reached this spot, we may as well pass over into Fowey by the
ferry here instead of by that from Polruan. If we had already come
from Fowey to Bodinnick we should find that the ferryman would carry
us back without further payment; the outward fee included a
return--not like the ferry of Charon which had no return for
passengers. The oars dip peacefully into the water, breaking its
surface of glistening light; a delicious coolness, that phantom
fragrance of water to which we can give no name, steals upward
soothingly and sweetly.

Fowey, whose position is strikingly like that of Dartmouth, is named
from its river, which rises at Foy-Fenton on the Bodmin Moors and
passes through Lostwithiel on its journey to the mo