This is not quite correct. He was a bard, and perhaps of royal race, but we do not know his pedigree. He was a disciple of S. Kieran, and was the father of the first writer of the lives of the saints in Ireland. He composed a poem in honour of S. Finnan of Moville, and he had the honour of having under him, for a short while, the great Columba of Iona. He had several brothers, who passed into France, and are mentioned by Flodoard, the historian of the Franks. The date of his death was about 530. I have elsewhere told a story about him tubbing with S. Kieran, and catching a fish in the tub. Near Germoe, but nearer the sea, is the very fine remnant of a castle, Pengersick. It was erected in the reign of Henry VIII. by a certain man of the name of Millaton, probably of Millaton in Bridestowe, Devon. He had committed a murder, and to escape justice he fled his native county and concealed himself in the dip of the land facing the sea at Pengersick, where he constructed a tower amply provided with means of defence. The basement is furnished with loopholes for firing upon anyone approaching, and above the door is a shoot for melted lead. The whole building is beautifully constructed. Here Millaton remained in concealment till he died, never leaving his tower for more than a brief stroll. The land had not been purchased in his own name, but in that of his son Job, who, after his death, was made Governor of S. Michael’s Mount. Job had a son, William, who was made Sheriff of Cornwall in 1565, and he married Honor, daughter of Sir William Godolphin of Godolphin. According to a local legend, William Millaton and his wife Honor lived a cat-and-dog life. They hated each other with a deadly hate, and at length each severally resolved that this incompatible union must come to an end. William Millaton said to his wife, “Honor, we have lived in wretchedness too long. Let us resolve on a reconciliation, forget the past, and begin a new life.” “Most certainly do I agree thereto,” said she. “And,” continued William, “as a pledge of our reunion, let us have a feast together to-night.” So a banquet was spread in Pengersick Castle for them twain and none others. And when they had well eaten, then William Millaton said, “Let us drink to our reunion.” “I will drink if you will drink,” said she. Then he drained his glass, and after that, she drained hers. With a bitter laugh she said, “William, you have but three minutes to live. Your cup was poisoned.” “And you,” retorted he, “have but five, for yours is poisoned.” “It is well,” said Honor; “I am content. I shall have two minutes in which to triumph over your dead carcass, and to spurn it with my foot.” On the death of this William, the estate passed to his six sisters, who married into the families of Erisy, Lanyon, Trefusis, Arundell, Bonython, and Abbot of Hartland.