We will now start for town in good earnest, as we don’t know what fine
doings may be going on there this week, besides the wrestling-match on
the Western Green, where the best gentlemen in the land do not disdain
to try a hitch with the poorest labouring man—not for the value of the
prize, but for the honour of proving their manliness. There is also to
be a grand hurling-match on the Eastern Green between Ludgvan hurlers
[22] and any two other parishes who have a mind to accept the
challenge. There we shall see all the gentry from the eastward, who no
more think themselves degraded by joining the commontry, in the ancient
manly game, than a real old squire’s lady would think it unbecoming to
ply the spinning-wheel in the ancient hall, surrounded by her maidens
at the same work. So now we bid good morrow to the hearty old folks of
the Land’s End, and hope we shall have a pleasant journey to Penzance.