Legend Land, Vol. 1 | Page 6

carrying,
and ran sobbing from her angry husband to seek refuge in the deepest
part of the forest; and it was not until Cormoran himself had finished
building the Mount that she would return to him.
And to-day, as you walk along the causeway from Marazion to St.
Michael's Mount, you will see on your right hand an isolated mass of
greenstone, the very rock that Cormelian dropped. It is called Chapel
Rock now, because years and years afterwards, when pious monks

lived upon the summit of the Mount and devout pilgrims used to visit
their church to pay homage at a shrine, they built a little chapel, upon
poor Cormelian's green rock, of which only a few stones now remain.
You may visit Chapel Rock and St. Michael's Mount from Penzance,
which is between three and four miles away and is the ideal centre for
some of the most wonderful scenery in Cornwall. Both Land's End and
the Lizard are within easy reach of this, England's westernmost town,
where a climate that rivals that of the Mediterranean may be enjoyed in
the depth of winter. Semi-tropical flowers and trees bloom in the open,
and in February and early March--in what is, in fact, winter weather for
those in less favoured parts--Penzance and its neighbourhood are
surrounded by glorious spring flowers, the growing of which forms a
very considerable industry.
London and our other big towns often get their first glimpse of coming
spring in the narcissi and wallflowers grown around the shores of
Mounts Bay, and packed off to the grim cold cities only a few hours
away.
[Illustration: St. Michael's Mount]
[Illustration]

THE TASKS OF TREGEAGLE
The name of the demon Tregeagle is a household word in nearly every
part of Cornwall. His wild spirit rages of nights along the rocky coasts,
across the bleak moors and through the sheltered valleys. For Tregeagle
is a Cornish "Wandering Jew"; his spirit can never rest, since in life he
was the most evil man the Duchy ever knew.
His story, as the legend has it, is that he was a man who amassed great
wealth by robbing his neighbours in the cruellest manner. As he
approached the end of his most evil life remorse seized him. There was
no sin he had not committed, and hoping to escape from the just reward
of so wicked a life, in the hereafter, he lavished money upon the

Church and the poor, trusting to obtain the help of the holy priests to
save him from the clutches of the Evil One.
The priests, ever anxious to save a soul, banded themselves together,
and by constant prayer and powerful exorcisms kept the powers of
darkness at bay, and Tregeagle died and was buried in St. Breock
Church. But the demons were not so ready to give up what they felt
was their lawful prey. An important lawsuit occurred shortly after his
death, and as the judge was about to give his decision against the
unjustly accused defendant, to the horror of all in court, the gaunt
figure of the dead Tregeagle stalked into the room. His evidence saved
the defendant.
Now Tregeagle being brought from the grave, despite the honesty of
his mission, placed himself once more in danger of the demons. The
defendant, who had raised the spirit, calmly left him to the Churchmen
to put once more to rest, and after a long conference, presided over by
the Prior of Bodmin, it was decided that the only hope of ultimate
peace for the evil man's spirit was that he be set to some task which
might last until the Day of Judgment. And so long as he worked
unceasingly at that task he might still hope for salvation.
So the task appointed him was to empty out Dozmary Pool, a gloomy
lake on the Bodmin Moors, with a limpet-shell with a hole in it. For
years Tregeagle laboured at this, until one day during a terrible storm
he ceased work for a moment. Then the demons descended upon him.
He fled from his pursuers, and only escaped them by leaping right
across the lake--for demons cannot cross water--and rushing for
sanctuary to the little chapel on the Roche Rock, where he managed
just in time to get his head in at the east window. But the howls of the
demons outside, and the roaring of the terrified Tregeagle within, made
the life of the unfortunate priest of the Roche chapel unbearable, and he
appealed to his brethren of the Church to do something about it. So
they bound the wicked spirit with holy spells and took him safely
across to the north coast, where another task was set him. He was to
weave a truss of sand and spin a sand rope to