The sand-hills that abound near the church of Lelant, by St. Ives, are
now famous the world over for providing one of the most excellent golf
courses in this country. But in the far-away simpler days, before golf
had come south, and when Cornwall was a distant land seldom visited by
strangers, the Lelant sand-hills had a different fame.
In those days they used to say that they were the favourite
meeting-place of the piskies, or, as folks from other parts of England
would call them, fairies. Strange stories were told by the people
of Lelant of the moonlight revels indulged in by the small folk in
sheltered corners of that great stretch of sand-dunes that borders the
Hayle river.
One of the strangest stories is that of a piskie funeral, seen with his
own eyes by a respectable villager ever so many years ago.
Old Richard, who witnessed this amazing sight, was returning late
one night from St. Ives, whither he had been in search of fish. As he
ascended the hill towards his home, he thought he heard the bell of
Lelant church tolling. This struck him as being curious, for it was
just midnight, so he went out of his way to have a look at the church,
in case anything was wrong.
Arriving in sight of the building, he saw faint lights within; and still
the bell continued to toll, though, as he noticed then, in a strange
way, with a queer muffled sound that aroused no echo.
Richard then crept forward to see what was happening. Peering cautiously
through one of the windows, he was at first unable to distinguish
anything, although a strange light illuminated the whole church. But
after a few moments he was able to discern a funeral procession moving
slowly up the centre aisle. It consisted of the little people, crowds of
whom filled the church. Each piskie looked very sad, although, instead
of being dressed in mourning, each carried a gay wreath or garland of
roses or myrtle.
Presently the watcher beheld a bier borne by six piskies, and on it was
the body--no bigger than a small doll, he said--of a beautiful lady.
The mournful procession moved forward to the sanctuary, where Richard
observed two tiny figures digging a wee grave quite close to the altar
table. When they had completed their task, the whole company crowded
around while the pale, lovely corpse was gently lowered into the earth.
At this moment all the piskies burst into the saddest notes of
lamentation, tearing their wreaths and garlands asunder and casting the
flowers into the grave. Then one of the midget grave-diggers threw in a
shovelful of earth and the most piteous cry of sorrow went up from the
small folk, who wailed, "Our Queen is dead! Our Queen is dead!"
Old Richard was so much affected by this that he joined in the cry of
lamentation. But no sooner was his voice heard than all the lights were
extinguished and the piskies fled in consternation in every direction.
Richard himself was so much alarmed that he ran for his home, firmly
convinced that he was fortunate to have escaped with his life.
Lelant Church and the sand-hills remain to-day much as they were on that
long-ago midnight when Richard attended the piskie's funeral, but
nowadays the country round about has become one of the most favoured, by
visitors, in all Cornwall.
Lelant with its golf course, pretty Carbis Bay with its wonderful bathing
beach, and St. Ives, beloved of artists and those in search of rest
and health, a few miles further on, are all places that exercise the
strongest fascination for those who have once visited them. The district
is singularly attractive to the tourist; wild, rugged coast or grim
moorland scenery is to be found within easy walking distance, while
nestling in between the forbidding cliffs are pleasant 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]