"'What!' said I, 'the Tennyson?'
"'What do you mean by the Tennyson? I am Alfred Tennyson, who wrote "Locksley Hall," which you seem to know by heart.'
"So we grasped hands, and the Shepherd's heart was glad."
Churches of the Neighbourhood
With regard to certain old churches, St. Olaf's, at Poughill, has two rather crudely restored mural paintings and, set heavily in the south door, what is reputed to be one of the few genuine sanctuary rings still in existence. The church at Marhamchurch also shows the remains of frescoes, while Stratton has a fine stoup, and in the north wall of the chancel an Easter sepulchre, probably the only one in the county. That of Swithin—dear apple saint—at Launcells, has a circular font reputed to date from Saxon times, and the fifteenth century bench-ends, though rudely carved, show a play of symbolic fancy, unusual in Cornwall. On one you see the visit of Mary when she mistook the gardener for Christ, Mary being represented by a spice-box, the gardener by a spade! On another the Harrowing of Hell is represented by the jaws of a dragon, and so with the various subjects. An empty grave and cross triumphant tells the story of the resurrection, while the supper at Emmaus, though faithfully suggested, is given without the introduction of a single human figure. It is all symbolism—riddles which are interesting to guess, but not always easy.
Week St. Mary
Some five miles or so south of Marhamchurch lies Week St. Mary, about a native of which village a sort of Dick Whittington story is told. In a field adjoining the churchyard the remains of extensive buildings can be traced, and these, once a chantry, were said to be due to the pious energy of Dame Thomasin Perceval. As a girl she herded geese on the common of Greenamore, until in the shape of a staid and, alas! already married merchant, the Prince came riding by. He spoke to the girl and found her as pleasant in discourse as to the eye. Without more ado, therefore, he took her away with him—and here, though propriety is preserved, the fairy-tale suddenly drops to unromantic fact—he took her to wait upon his wife! In course of time, however, that good lady died and the middle-aged Prince was free to marry his goose-girl.
After many years she returned as a rich widow to her native parish, and there spent the remnant of her days in a cheerful and rather bustling philanthropy, repairing anything in the way of churches, bridges, and roads that required attention, portioning the virtuous and hard working of her own sex and generally playing Lady Bountiful—or so it is said!
In the churchwardens' Accounts of Stratton under date 1513 we read:
"paid for my lady parcyvale ijs Meneday [i.e. day of prayer for her soul] to iiij preistes & for bred & ale 1s. 1d."