ttle
hamlet of Treen is just across the fields. Logan rocks are simply a
freak of nature, in spite of the Druidic nonsense that has been talked
about them; softer soils have been eroded beneath, and the rock has
remained balanced. Treen is in the parish of St. Levan, but we have to
pass Porthcurnow Cove before reaching that saint's immediate locality.
Porthcurnow, with its fine shore and grand seas, and its memories of
Tregeagle, whose doom is to sweep the sands from Porthcurnow to the
farther side of Land's End, has in some sense had its romance knocked
out of it by the establishment of the Eastern Telegraph Company, and
the presence of about a hundred keen, sport-loving telegraphists. They
have a comfortable settlement for their exile here, with excellent
cricket and tennis grounds and perfect accommodation. Their duties
resemble those of any telegraph instrument-room in the country, but
the locality should render their leisure hours delightful. Hunt tells
a tale of a Spectre Ship at Porthcurnow, but all these traditions were
dying when he told them, and that is a good while ago now. The name of
Porthcurnow is interesting, as it probably embodies the root of the
name of Cornwall itself; and there was once a very ancient chapel
here, raised on a burial cairn of far greater antiquity; very slight
traces remain. Perhaps Penberth and St. Loy's Coves ought to have been
mentioned; but we must pass on to St. Levan, who was a very attractive
saint, with an engaging touch of human nature about him. Even so, his
identity is a little doubtful. The prefix St. is quite modern in
Cornwall, and as this parish was once spoken of as Siluan, and is
still sometimes called Slevan, it is possible that the real saint was
Silvanus, and not Levan at all. Whoever he was, he had a little
oratory and holy well on the cliff below the site of the present
church; and he lived on a single fish each day. One day two fish
persisted in being caught; and when he reached his cell he found that
his sister Breaca (whose name survives at Breage) had paid him a visit
with her two children. This legend goes on the usual supposition that
the saint was really the Irish Levan, brother of St. Breage. Unhappily
the children ate so eagerly that they were choked by the fishbones, in
memory of which bream (or sometimes chad) used to be called
"choke-cheeld." Mr. Baring-Gould says this caused a coolness between
brother and sister. He had another unpleasantness with a