They never talk of fairies in Cornwall; what "foreigners" call fairies
the Cornish call "piskies," or "small people." And all about the Duchy
piskies still abound for those who are fitted to see them. The old folk
will still tell you many strange stories of the piskies. One of the best
known is that of the lost child of St. Allen. St. Allen is a parish on
the high ground about four miles from Truro, and there, in the little
hamlet of Treonike, or, as it is now called, Trefronick, on a lovely
spring evening years and years ago, a small village boy wandered out
to pick flowers in a little copse not far from his parents' cottage.
His mother, looking from the kitchen door, saw him happily engaged in
his innocent amusement, then turned to make ready the supper for her
good man, whom she saw trudging home in the distance across the fields.
When, a few minutes later, she went to call her boy in to his evening
meal, he had vanished.
At first it was thought that the child had merely wandered further
into the wood, but after a while, when he did not return, his parents
grew alarmed and went in search of him. Yet no sign of the boy was
discovered.
For two days the villagers sought high and low for the missing child,
and then, on the morning of the third day, to the delight of the
distracted parents, their boy was found sleeping peacefully upon a bed
of fern within a few yards of the place where his mother had last seen
him. He was perfectly well, quite happy, and entirely ignorant of the
length of time that had elapsed. And he had a wonderful story to tell.
While picking the flowers, he said, he had heard a bird singing in more
beautiful tones than any he had heard before. Going into the wood to
see what strange songster this was, the sound changed to most wonderful
music which compelled him to follow it. Thus lured onward he came at
length to the edge of an enchanted lake, and he noticed that night had
fallen but that the sky was ablaze with huge stars. Then more stars
rose up all around him, and, looking, he saw that each was in reality a
pisky. These small people formed themselves into a procession, singing
strange fascinating songs the while, and under the leadership of one who
was more brilliant and more beautiful than the rest they led the boy
through their dwelling place. This, he said, was like a palace. Crystal
pillars supported arches hung with jewels which glistened with every
colour of the rainbow. Far more wonderful, the child said, were the
crystals than any he had seen in a Cornish mine.
The piskies were very kind to him, and seemed to enjoy his wonder and
astonishment at their gorgeous cave. They gave him a fairy meal of the
purest honey spread on dainty little cakes, and when at last he grew
tired numbers of the small folk fell to work to build him a bed of
fern. Then, crowding around him, they sang him to sleep with a strange
soothing lullaby, which for the rest of his life he was always just
on the point of remembering, but which as certainly escaped him. He
remembered nothing more until he was awakened and taken home to his
parents.
The wise folk of St. Allen maintained that only a child of the finest
character ever received such honour from the small people, and that
the fact that they had shown him the secrets of their hidden dwelling
augured that for ever afterwards they would keep him under their
especial care. And so it was; the boy lived to a ripe old age and
prospered amazingly. He never knew illness or misfortune, and died
at last in his sleep; and those that were near him say that as he
breathed his last a strange music filled the room. Some say that the
piskies still haunt the woods and fields around Trefronick, but that
they only show themselves to children and grown-ups of simple, trusting
nature. Anyhow, those that wish to try to see them may reach the place
where the lost child was spirited away in an hour and a half's walk from
Truro, Cornwall's cathedral city, which is at the head of one of the
most beautiful rivers in the world.
The trip from Truro down the Truro river and the Fal to Falmouth
at any time of the year is a pleasurable experience that can never be
forgotten. Truro is an ideal centre for South Cornwall. Wild sea coast
and moorland, and woods and sheltered creeks, are all close at hand, yet
the city itself has the cloistered calm peculiar to all our cathedral
towns.
The tourist neglects Truro too much, for as a lover of the Duchy once
said: "It is the most convenient town in Cornwall; it seems to be within
an hour and a half's journey of any part of the county."
[Illustration: _Truro Cathedral_]
[Illustration]