certain
that John Trelawney was committed to the Tower in 1627 by the House of
Commons, but was shortly released by order of the King and created a
baronet. It is very probable, therefore, that this occasion was really
the origin of the much-debated refrain, and that its use was revived
by the committal of Bishop Trelawney, if not on other occasions and
attached to other names as well. Hawker was not always sufficiently
explicit as to the derivations of his poems, and he was guilty of one
or two mystifications, some of which still survive in the popular
guide-books (such as his story of the "Silent Bells of Bottreaux");
but he cannot be accused on this occasion, as he never asserted that
his ballad was really ancient; and he certainly did fine service in
embodying and perpetuating the stirring refrain. As Hawker states, he
never claimed the chorus, but he did claim the ballad.

But after making all allowance for the beauties and varied
associations of the Looes and of Talland, it must candidly be
confessed that the great gem of the district is Polperro. From West
Looe it is reached by way of Portlooe and Talland; there are daily
excursions by brake from Looe in the season. Of course visitors can go
by boat if they prefer; the distance is about four miles. The little
port was once much more inaccessible than it is now; passengers
literally dropped into it by a path part of which was cut into steps;
no wheeled vehicle could possibly get down. The houses cluster at the
mouth of a deep ravine that runs up to the village of Crumplehorn.
Approaching the place by road, Mr. Norway says that "just at first one
sees nothing of the town, but all at once it bursts upon the sight as
the road runs round a bend, a striking huddled group of houses, cast
so strangely into a heap as to produce the impression that they must
have been built originally upon the hillside at comfortable distances
apart; and that by some slipping of the rock foundations the houses
have slid and slid until they can slide no further, but are brought to
a standstill in the very bottom of the hollow.

"The confusion of the town is immense. It is a labyrinth of winding
alley often ending in a _cul-de-sac_. But the downward sweep of the
headlands is superb; and under the towering cliffs studded with bosses
of golden furze lies a little pier and harbour with the sea-foam
flying sharply round the jutting peaks of rock before a stiff
south-wester, while the gulls wh