HISTORY AND THE PARISH 175 



from the window of a burning house, with many anxious 

 men holding up their hands from below. The smell of 

 flowers and of sun-warmed furniture and old upholstery 

 mingles in such rooms. 



But the kitchens are often as charming as in Wales. I 

 remember one especially near Carn Galver. The farm- 

 house was of whitened stone under a steep thatch. In 

 front were fuchsia trees in the corner of a stony yard; to 

 one side, the haystacks and piles of furze and bracken 

 and peat. The farmer's wife was carrying peat on an 

 iron hook into the kitchen and I followed her. A pan 

 of yellow scalded cream stood inside. The fireplace was 

 a little room in itself, with seats at each side and a little 

 fire of wood and three upright turves in one corner of 

 the great stone hearth : over the fire the kettle boiled. 

 Horse ornaments of polished brass surmounted the fire- 

 place. The wallpaper had given up its pattern long since 

 to a smoky uneven gold; nailed to it were calendars and 

 lists of fairs and sales; against it were two small tables, 

 one to support a Bible and an almanac, the other spread 

 with a white cloth on which was a plate and a bowl of 

 cream. Behind the door and between it and the fire was 

 a high-backed settle of dark wood, with elbow-rests. The 

 floor was flagged and sanded. The light came in through 

 a little square window on to the Bible by the opposite 

 wall, and through the open door on to the figure of the 

 housewife, a woman of forty. A delicate white face 

 shone beneath a broad untrimmed straw hat that was tied 

 tightly under her chin so as to hide her ears and most of 

 her black hair. Her black skirt was kilted up behind; a 

 white apron contrasted with black shoes, black stockings 

 and black clothes. At first her face was hardly seen, 



