Breock was now an old man, and could not walk, so his companions made for him a sort of cart in which he could sit, and in which they drew him about. One day they left him to sing psalms in his cart whilst they were engaged at a distance over some pressing business. When they returned they found a pack of wolves round the old man, but whether his sanctity, or toughness, kept them from eating him is left undecided. They drove the wolves off, and were careful in future not to leave him unattended. Conan, the chief, who lived at Pencarrow, came to know him, and, if we may believe the _Life_, was baptised by him, and made him a grant of land; this is S. Breock on the opposite side of the river to Pencarrow, where there is an interesting church in a lovely situation. It is only a coincidence that at the foot of Pencarrow is a chapel bearing Conan's name. It is dedicated to a tenth-century bishop. From Cornwall Breock departed for Brittany, about the year 500, and died there at an advanced age--over ninety--about 510. Padstow should be visited on May Day. It is one of the few places where the hobby-horse still prances; but the glory of the old May Feast is much curtailed. During the days that precede the festival no garden is safe. Walls, railings, even barbed wire, are surmounted by boys and men in quest of flowers. Conservatories have to be fast locked, or they will be invaded. The house that has a show of flowers in the windows is besieged by pretty children with roguish eyes begging for blossoms which they cannot steal. During the evening before May Day in years gone by, before shipbuilding had ceased to be an industry of Padstow, when the shipwrights left work they brought with them from the yard two poles, and carried them up the street, fastened one above the other, decorated at the top with branches of willow, furze, sycamore, and all kinds of spring flowers made into garlands, and from it were suspended strings of gulls' eggs. There hung from it also long streamers of coloured ribbon. A pit was dug, and the Maypole secured by ropes fastened to stakes. In the pavement was a cross laid in with paving stones differently coloured from the rest in the street; these were taken up every time the Maypole was planted, to be again relaid when the merry-making was over. But a doctor who lived in the house facing the pole objected, and so opposed the planting of the Maypole and the dancing before his door, that the merry-makers moved to an open space somewhat higher up the street, which was much less convenient. Opposition followed them even there, and a few years ago the Maypole was finally abandoned.