aid the Provost), 'there is no remedy, for you have been
a busie rebel.' And so without respite or defence he was hanged to
death; a most uncourteous part for a guest to offer his host."
--Sir Rich. Baker, 1641.

(2) "Near the same place dwelt a Miller, who had been a busie actor
in that rebellion; who, fearing the approach of the Marshal, told a
sturdy fellow, his servant, that he had occasion to go from home, and
therefore bid him, that if any man came to inquire after the miller,
he should not speak of him, but say that himself was the miller, and
had been so for three years before. So the Provost came and called
for the miller, when out comes the servant and saith he was the man.
The Provost demanded how long he had kept the mill? 'These three
years' (answered the servant). Then the Provost commanded his men to
lay hold on him and hang him on the next tree. At this the fellow
cried out that he was not the miller, but the miller's man.
'Nay, sir' (said the Provost), 'I will take you at your word, and if
thou beest the miller, thou art a busie knave; if thou beest not,
thou art a false lying knave; and howsoever, thou canst never do thy
master better service than to hang for him'; and so, without more
ado, he was dispatched."--_Ibid_.

The story of one Mayow, whom Kingston hanged at a tavern signpost in the
town of St. Columb, has a human touch. "Tradition saith that his crime
was not capital; and therefore his wife was advised by her friends to
hasten to the town after the Marshal and his men, who had him in custody,
and beg his life. Which accordingly she prepared to do; and to render
herself the more amiable petitioner before the Marshal's eyes, this dame
spent so much time in attiring herself and putting on her French hood,
then in fashion, that her husband was put to death before her arrival."

Such was the revenge wreaked on a population which the English of the day
took so little pains to understand that (as I am informed) in an old
geography book of the days of Elizabeth, Cornwall is described as
'a foreign country on that side of England next to Spain.'

And now that the holiday season is upon us, and the visitor stalks our
narrow streets, perhaps he will not resent a word or two of counsel in
exchange for the unreserved criticism he lavishes upon us. We are
flattered by his frequent announcement that on