vaunt of their townes antiquitie, than the towne of Some writers pretend that Ptolemy

their abilitie."

mentions it.

Two miles more and you come to Probus, the bestfarmed parish in the county, where a lofty churchtower, said to be the most beautiful specimen of ecclesiastical architecture in Cornwall, appears far too good for the bleak-looking village from which it rises. It is built of hewn granite, faced with sculptured devices, now in many places obscured by a growth of lichen, and a double buttress at each corner tapering off into groups of pinnacles at the top. It "was builded," says the writer above quoted, "within compasse of our remembrance, by the well-disposed inhabitants." What with the great height, more than one hundred feet, and the Perpendicular style, the whole effect is extremely light and graceful. The church has, besides, an especial distinction, in being dedicated to a married pairProbus and Grace-rare among the saints..

A little excitement was apparent in the village : expectant loungers hung about, heads projected from open windows; a stall covered with lollipops and nuts stood at the door of each of the two taverns, between which a hasty messenger came and went. It was, as one of the loungers told me, "wrostlin' day;" the sport had begun the day before; but having been interrupted by a fierce dispute, was to be resumed at two o'clock, and if possible settled. I had frequently heard of Cornish wrestling as a fine manly exercise, and took advantage of the opportunity to see for myself. There was an hour to wait, which I found none too long for a stroll round the church, and a peep at the rival parties in the taverns, where they sat in noisy talk, drinking

bad beer and worse cider, and, as I thought, in anything but the generous mood supposed to precede a "fine manly exercise." At the first notes of the drum and clarionet I walked up to the field where the ring was formed on the smooth turf, and where each tavern had an improvised tap, with casks of ale, bottles of spirits, and pipes and tobacco, all in readiness. A considerable number of spectators were already seated on the forms round the ring, some of them none the better for drink, and a few lying in drunken sleep in the ring, all the worse. The latter, as also some among the throng of foul and brutal speech, were, I incline to believe, not natives, but immigrant navvies from the railway works in the neighbourhood. Ere long up came the music, followed by the "wrostlers" and their friends; and their arrival was the signal for so vehement a debate among the umpires, that it seemed likely to result in a continuation of the yesterday's quarrel. While it was going on, two Devonshire men got into the ring to wrestle by way of pastime; and true to the old Devonshire practice, they kicked each other's shins so vigorously with their thick-soled shoes, that the blows could be heard above all the noisy altercation. Order being at length restored, the sleeping drunkards were dragged to one side, the amateurs left off their playful bruisings, and proclamation was made: "All standers come into the ring"-signifying all those who had not been thrown the day before. About a dozen men obeyed the call, forming a group on opposite sides of the circle; and two having been selected-one from each group-they proceeded deliberately to undress. Kicking of shins not being recognised in Cornish wrestling, they pulled off shoes and stockings, and gar

ment after garment, even to the shirt; and I was beginning to surmise that gladiators had come again, when off flew the shirts, and with the exception of brief drawers round the loins, each man stood in a state of nudity. To me this absence of restraint was something unaccustomed; but to the others only the familiar prelude to a wrestling-match. A party of well-dressed women standing near me on the bank, under a cloud of gay parasols, looked on with perfect composure. But soon each wrestler had put on a large loose jacket, tying with strong tapes down the front; and then bending forwards, with hands on knees, they slowly came together, each fixing a keen look on the other's face. Both were about the middle height, and of ordinary muscular development. One, however, with his shock head of hair, and bushy sweep of whisker, seemed to me as he stooped no unapt resemblance to a grisly bear. Now they turned this way, now that; now a few paces to the right, now to the left, still with the same fixed stare; and at last one, stretching out a hand, gripped the shoulder of his opponent's jacket, and was in turn seized by the elbow. Another moment, and the other two hands were fast; and keeping their legs as far as possible out of reach, they wheeled round and round, a convulsive jerk showing now and then an effort for a fall; the two umpires keeping a jealous watch on their movements. Not for an instant did a knee bend, or an arm slacken; and when a leg was suddenly advanced, it was as suddenly withdrawn. So the contest went on for about half an hour. The grisly bear became impatient, and growled a few words, which, ominous for himself, sounded like ill-temper. No retort; but a moment later the quiet one, with a sudden jerk of his

3

leg, and a twist of the body to the left, threw the other off his balance, and down went the bear, his shoulder indenting the turf. A burst of acclamation followed, interrupted by denials from the discomfited; but " fair fall!”—“ a fair fall!" was the cry all round the ring; whereupon the vanquished gave up his jacketequivalent to striking the flag—and acknowledged himself beaten. Then more acclamations; and lively appeals to the beer-barrels. I had seen a specimen of Cornish wrestling.

As a people, we are not so fond of out-door athletic sports as we ought to be, and are too fond of work— that is, money-making. But I have little faith in sports and exercises which cannot be carried on for their own sake, without the aid of beer or betting, and the excitement of the Stock Exchange. Pastime should be pastime, not business. The wrestling at Probus seemed to me more a speculation of the two tavern-keepers than the emulous recreation of a parish.

Two more "standers" came into the ring: but my curiosity was satisfied. After these two more were to come, and so on till all had wrestled, when the remaining standers would be paired, and in the end two champions left to contend for the victory.

On the road again, through a pleasant undulating valley well sprinkled with trees. At Tresilian Bridge, two miles from Probus, you cross St. Clement's Creek, which, winding under the beautifully-wooded eminence of Tregothnan, the seat of the Earl of Falmouth, communicates with the Truro river and Falmouth Harbour. History and Nature combine to give interest to the spot. Here it was that Sir Ralph Hopton surrendered to Fairfax in 1646, and Cornwall closed her obstinate

struggle with the Parliament: able no longer, even with her ancient rallying cry, One and all! to make head against the new order of things. There is now the charm of scenery to soothe whatever may remain of sorrow; and the neighbouring park abounds in delightful prospects.

It was market-day at Truro, and there was all the lively bustle incident to the weekly throng. On the right of the entrance to the market-house you may see a carefully-preserved inscription, which, on the authority of Jenken Daniel, Mayor, and bearing date 1615, sets forth:

A precept which certain traders of the present day would do well to bear in mind.

The concourse was very miscellaneous: miners and mariners, cattle-dealers, fat and lean farmers, and the usual gathering of buxom damsels, and kerchiefed dames with poultry and butter. Strange was the mixture of talk I heard while strolling through, about tin and copper; prospects of the harvest; how the turnips looked; wheat up because of the war; vessels waiting for cargo, and a running accompaniment about eggs and butter. But it was more to use my eyes than my ears that I went among the crowd. A market-place on a market-day is a good spot from which to observe local peculiarities; and varieties are to be seen in every county. How different, for example, the tall, burly, shrewd-looking men seen in the market-place at Leeds, or the stalwart yeomen who congregate once a week at Cockermouth, to those met with at Hereford or Basingstoke! And here, again, a difference at Truro: the eye,