e Dumb Witness.' Next evening was to be
given 'The Vampire's Feast; or, The Rifled Tomb.' This tragedy was
followed by Allingham's play, 'Fortune's Frolick,' adapted to the
narrow capacities of the company. It was performed in broad Cornish,
and interspersed with some rather good and I fancy original songs. But
surely nowhere else but at Looe could such a reminiscence of the old
strolling company-show of fifty or sixty years ago be seen." It is
said that there are still queer things to be seen at the annual fair
of May 6th, the West Looe "cattle and pleasure fair." But the contact
with outside influences has had its natural effect; Looe is not quite
what it once was; better approaches have been made, so that the
visitor no longer drops sheer upon the roofs of the houses as he did
once; the claims of local improvement and sanitation have done
something to remove quaint and characteristic features. Yet there are
still picturesque whitewashed houses with ragged gables and outside
staircases; there are still curious old porches and delightful
hanging-gardens where myrtle, hydrangea, and geranium can thrive all
the year round. The shops still partake of the dual character that we
find in quiet villages, so that the grocer is also the chemist and the
butcher is the greengrocer. In one case the grocer has not only a
chemist's store but also keeps a circulating library--a charming
confusion of trades that enables the visitor to do his shopping within
very limited range. The fishing done here, both professionally and as
a sport, is fairly considerable; the Looe fishing-fleet often goes as
far afield as the shores of Ireland, but when at home the men hang
about the quay in the usual fashion of their kind, getting an
occasional job with visitors, but more often enjoying that dreamy
laziness for which they appear supremely qualified. They have the
faculty of gazing long and intently at nothing, and of disputing for
hours over subjects of scarcely greater tangibility; but their
capabilities and efficiency must not be measured by their customary
longshore attitude. Sometimes their wrangling almost equals that of
the gulls that clamour in crowds about the small harbour, and that are
always on the look-out for refuse thrown from the boats or from the
quaysides. A special haunt of these gulls is the little Looe Island
lying off West Looe, which is about a mile in circumference and 170
feet in height. This islet, also called St. George's