d on
foot by way of Talland, Polperro, and Polruan. Talland Church is
delightfully placed, while its tower is connected with the main building
by means of a porch. The bench ends within are very interesting,
particularly a set with finials in the form of winged figures
administering the Eucharist. These pew ends are quite unlike any others
in the country, and they are somewhat of an ecclesiastical puzzle. From
Talland a rocky coast walk of less than two miles leads to Polperro,
with the narrowest of all the narrow little ravines that offer shelter
to the mariner on this exposed portion of the coast. The antiquary
Leland describes it as "a little fischar towne with a peere". It is an
extraordinary jumble of habitations which press upon each other so
closely that it is only by wriggling through the narrow streets and
turnings that one can make any progress at all.

There is no coast track west of Polperro and both the roads to Fowey are
very hilly. The pedestrian should proceed by way of Lansallos, where the
church in the Perpendicular style forms a conspicuous sea-mark. From
Polruan the descent to Fowey is very steep, but the view of the harbour
from the high land is one of great charm.

As we look at the little stranded and sunlit port to-day, it is
difficult to realize that Fowey once shared with Plymouth and Dartmouth
the maritime honours of the south-west coast. In those days Looe,
Penryn, and Truro were regarded as creeks under Fowey. The harbour,
which is navigable as far as Lostwithiel, a distance of eight miles, is
formed mainly by the estuary of the river Fowey, the town stretching
along the western bank of the harbour for a mile.

Seen for the first time Fowey is a revelation. Much known and rather too
much visited, it is yet one of Cornwall's most picturesque and
interesting towns. Nature and art have combined to make it so; the art
of the old village builder, not the so-called art of to-day. A modern
element exists, but it is of small proportions. May it always remain so.

Standing on the heights one looks down upon the river below. On either
side is a jumble of ancient houses with leaning and weather-stained
walls. It is doubtful if we ought to admire such ill-ventilated and
out-of-date dwelling houses, in this essentially scientific age. But the
general effect of line, of light and shade produced by a mass of broken
and highly unconventional contours--gables where there should be
chimneys, and chimneys