We revert to our old country folks to remark that, for an acquaintance with classic fables, and much other secular knowledge, they were beholden to the plain Welsh, or native, parsons—then appointed to the western parishes who lived amongst, and associated with, their flocks in an easy, comfortable way. Yet the reverend gentlemen's familiarity and sympathy with their parishioners' joys and griefs caused no diminution of respect for their sacred office. For example the Rev. James Bevan, from Glamorganshire, who was more than forty years curate of Sennen and St. Levan, was always spoken of, by the few old people who remembered him, with affection and respect. This gentleman resided in Trengothal; and so far was he from discountenancing wrestling, throwing quoits, and other manly recreations of the time, that he and his family, with many principal persons of the neighbourhood, always attended at[198] holiday games, on Penberth Green, where they danced with rich and poor, and their presence enforced decorum, and made our rural sports respectable. Another usage—probably handed down from Catholic times—was then common. Prizes won at wrestling, or any other manly games, were either worn to church or suspended within it to a pillar near the door, on the following Sunday. This custom was particularly observed when the victory was obtained in another parish. I have often heard one who when young was a noted wrestler, and for many years champion of his parish, speak of the satisfaction with which he used to hang up a pair of spurs, gloves, yards of ribbon, lace, or whatever it might be, as a trophy in honour of old St. Levan. A short time ago, it was usual for the winners of gold-laced hats to display them at Church, though the wearers—often gentlemen farmers' sons—looked for all the world like livery servants. "Many customs of no more than fifty years ago," said the old tinner, "would be regarded as strange now. One thing that I have just thought of, that stories which have been related by romancers, and are still repeated by others in books, about the savagery of old Cornish wreckers and smugglers, is vile slander. Who, I wonder, would have more right to dead wreck than the salvers; and success say I to the fair trade." The old tinner was now mounted on his favourite hobby, and as his stories about smuggling were interminable, I wished him good-night. [199] An Excursion to Chapel Uny Well, With a Legend of the Changeling of Brea Vean. These, when a child haps to be got, That after proves an idiot, When folks perceive it thriveth not, The fault therein to smother, Some silly, doating, brainless calf, That understands things by the half, Says that the fairy left this aulfe, And took away the other. Drayton.