“And shall Trelawny die? Here’s twenty thousand Cornishmen Will know the reason why!” the rest is mainly, if not wholly, the composition of the late Rev. R. S. Hawker, of Morwenstow. It was written by him in 1825, and was printed first in a Plymouth paper, and then by Mr. Davies Gilbert, the antiquary and historian. It appeared in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ of November, 1827. Sir Walter Scott, and later, Lord Macaulay, quite thought it was a genuine ancient ballad. That it is not an antique is almost certain, as it has no local and original air to which it is set; it is sung to “Le Petit Tambour,” and no old miners or labourers know it. There is a novel by Mrs. Bray, _Trelawny of Trelawne_, written in 1834, that relates to this house, and by no means deserves to be forgotten. Mrs. Bray’s novels, though old-fashioned, are guides to the neighbourhood of Tavistock, and that just mentioned interests the reader in the district about Trelawne.[17] “Looe,” says she, “beautiful as it is, is not to be compared to Polperro, two miles distant from Trelawne. The descent to it is so steep, that I, who was not accustomed to the path, could only get down by clinging to Mr. Bray’s arm for support; it was slippery, and so rocky that in some places there were steps cut in the road for the convenience of the passenger. The view of the little port, the old town in the bottom (if town it can be called), the cliffs, and the spiked rocks, that start up in the wildest and most abrupt manner, breaking the direct sweep of the waves towards the harbour, altogether produced such a combination of magnificent coast scenery as may truly be called sublime.” Access to Polperro is very much easier than it was in 1833, when visited by Mrs. Bray. A good many of the quaint old houses have been pulled down, but the place is still eminently picturesque, and is a haunt of artists. In 1807, the year of the treacherous peace of Tilsit, privateering was carried on briskly at Polperro. Among other vessels, the _Lord Nelson_ sailed from this port, manned by a crew of hardy and experienced sailors. After cruising in the Channel for a week without success, she put into Falmouth for provisions. Here she was boarded by the _Recruit_, and several of the men were impressed. Amongst these was one Robert Jeffrey, who had been brought up as a blacksmith by his stepfather. The _Recruit_ was a sloop-of-war commanded by Captain Lake, which at once sailed for the West Indies. Whilst cruising in the Caribbean Sea, Jeffrey got at a barrel of spruce beer. The captain, very angry, ordered the boat to be lowered, and Jeffrey to be taken to a barren rock and left there.