cutter, and of an unowned shot that found a Preventive Officer's
heart. But the whole tale remains to this day full of mystery, nor
would I mention it save that it may be held to throw some light on my
grandfather's sudden disappearance no long time after. Whither he
went, none clearly knew. Folks said, to fight the French; but when
he returned suddenly some twenty years later, he said little about
sea-fights, or indeed on any other subject; nor did many care to
question him, for he came back a stern, taciturn man, apparently with
no great wealth, but also without seeming to want for much, and at
any rate indisposed to take the world into his confidence.
His father had died meanwhile, so he quietly assumed the mastership
at Lantrig, nursed his failing mother tenderly until her death, and
then married one of the Triggs of Mullyon, of whom was born my
father, Ezekiel Trenoweth.

I have hinted, what I fear is but the truth, that my grandfather had
led a hot and riotous youth, fearing neither God, man, nor devil.
Before his return, however, he had "got religion" from some quarter,
and was confirmed in it by the preaching of one Jonathan Wilkins, as
I have heard, a Methodist from "up the country," and a powerful mover
of souls. As might have been expected in such a man as my
grandfather, this religion was of a joyless and gloomy order, full of
anticipations of hell-fire and conviction of the sinfulness of
ordinary folk. But it undoubtedly was sincere, for his wife Philippa
believed in it, and the master and mistress of Lantrig were alike the
glory and strong support of the meeting-house at Polkimbra until her
death. After this event, her husband shut himself up with the
tortures of his own stern conscience, and was seen by few. In this
dismal self-communing he died on the 27th of October, 1837, leaving
behind him one mourner, his son Ezekiel, then a strong and comely