198 THE LAND'S END 



supernatural man who had it in his power to call down 

 God to them. That same God who had been grow- 

 ing further removed from their lives and dimmer in 

 their minds for years and for generations, until He 

 was little more than one of the Cornish giants or 

 supernatural monsters believed in by the "old people" 

 now once more an awful stupendous reality, a 

 gigantic kite hovering on broad black wings over 

 their congregated thousands, his burning, rapacious 

 eyes fixed on them, while from time to time he made 

 his little tentative swoops to set them fluttering and 

 screaming. For they were like terrified fowls and 

 chickens in a farm-yard, each expecting and dreading 

 to be made a victim each knowing that his miserable 

 soul might not be saved until the winged terror fell 

 upon him to grip and bury its crooked lacerating 

 talons in his flesh. And when the stoop and grip 

 came he rolled on the ground bellowing and shrieking 

 to the accompaniment of groans and sobs and piercing 

 cries of those around him. Dreadful as this was, 

 and horrible and loathsome to witness by any person 

 of a decent or reverent mind, it was yet a joy to them 

 and gave them what they wanted a glorious emo- 

 tional feast. From the days of Wesley to the present 

 time these unseemly spectacles have been common 

 throughout the length and breadth of the peninsula, 

 as they have been in Wales, and one may be thankful 

 that the Irish kept the old faith, which does not 

 permit such things, since it saved them from a like 

 degradation. 



I rejoice, and all who have any respect and love for 



