sheltered sandy
coves where one may bathe in safety or laze away the sunny hours,
protected from the harsher winds that sweep the uplands.

Large modern hotels are to be found at St. Ives and Carbis Bay, and the
sailing and sea-fishing of the Hayle Estuary are as good as any in all
that favoured land of Cornwall.

[Illustration: _Lelant Church_]

[Illustration]

THE SPECTRE COACH

In the days of Good Queen Anne, the parson of Talland, a quaint little
sea-girt village near Looe, was a singular man named Dodge. Parson
Dodge's reputation in that neighbourhood was that of being able to lay
ghosts and command evil spirits, and although the country folk were
rather terrified of their vicar, they had the utmost faith in his
marvellous powers.

And it happened that the good folk of Lanreath, a few miles away, were
suffering severely from a wild spirit that frequented the high moor in
their parish. The ghost was that, they said, of an avaricious landowner
who had wasted his fortune in lawsuits, attempting unjustly to seize
from the villagers a wide stretch of common-land. Disappointment had
killed him, but in the spirit world he could find no rest, for he used
to return of nights to the land he had coveted, and drive wildly about
in a black coach drawn by six sable, headless horses, much to the terror
of the country folk.

So the rector of Lanreath decided at last to appeal to Parson Dodge to
come over and exorcise the wandering spirit. Parson Dodge agreed, and
upon the appointed night he and the rector rode out on to the haunted
moor to see what could be done about the bad business.

It was a grim, barren spot that they reached at last and the rector did
not at all like his task. But Parson Dodge bade him cheer up, saying
that he never yet met the ghost that he couldn't best. So the two
parsons dismounted and tramped up and down for an hour, expecting every
moment the arrival of the spectre coach.

When at last midnight had passed and nothing had happened, they decided
to abandon their vigil and return some other night. So, taking leave of
one another, they separated, the rector to take a short ride to his
home, Parson Dodge going a mile across the moor to the road that led him
back to Talland vicarage.

Dodge had been riding about five minutes when, without any apparent
reason, his mare shied, then stood stock-still. The parson tried to urge
her on, but she refused; then he dismounted and tried to lead he