a vow made when Richard "fell sick," they went on a pilgrimage to the Mount, and whilst he was in the chapel,
"She left him to pray, and stole away
To sit in St. Michael's chair.
Up the tower Rebecca ran,
Round and round and round;
'Twas a giddy sight to stand atop
And look upon the ground.
'A curse on the ringers for rocking
The tower!' Rebecca cried,
As over the church battlements
She strode with a long stride.
'A blessing on St. Michael's chair!"
She said as she sat down:
Merrily merrily rung the bells,
And out Rebecca was thrown.
Tidings to Richard Penlake were brought
That his good wife was dead;
'Now shall we toll for her poor soul
The great church bell?' they said.
'Toll at her burying,' quoth Richard Penlake,
'Toll at her burying,' quoth he;
'But don't disturb the ringers now
In compliment to me.'"
Old writers give the name of "Caraclowse in clowse" to St. Michael's Mount, which means the Hoar Rock in the "Wood; and that it was at one time surrounded by trees is almost certain, as at very low tides in Mount's Bay a "submarine forest," with roots of large trees, may still be clearly seen. At these seasons branches of trees, with leaves, nuts, and beetles, have been picked up.
Folk-lore speaks of a time when Scilly was joined to the mainland, which does not seem very improbable when we remember that within the last twenty-five years a high road and a field have been washed away by the sea between Newlyn and Penzance. An old lady, whose memory went back to the beginning of the present century, told me that she had often seen boys playing at cricket in some fields seaward of Newlyn, of which no vestige in my time remained.
But the Lyonnesse, as this tract of land, containing 140 parish
