Page:The Cornwall coast.djvu/63

 FOWEY 57 on the lonely sea-washed crags ; and in quiet weather there are more of the gulls seaward than up among the gardens. But they may certainly he regarded as the presiding genius of Fowey. The village of Fowey — it calls itself a town — runs along in a single street on the westward bank of the river. At first sight this street is almost unattractive ; it is narrow, with some awkward bends, and it gives no view of the water except an occasional peep through a low doorway. It runs to a considerable distance, and tries to increase its importance by changing its name at intervals ; a few small alleys and by-roads strike off from it. One of its turnings is a sharp drop as well as a curve, perilous to all but the initiated. In some parts when a vehicle passes it is necessary to press very close indeed to the wall or in the kindly shelter of a doorway ; the ample omnibus of the chief hotel spares little space for pedestrians. It may be with something of a malicious chuckle that one notices that this four-wheeled tyrant is often empty ; but the malice is of evanescent nature, born of narrow escape. There are some shops, respectable if not imposing, and a goodly supply of inns ; a fine church and a notable old Cornish manor-house. But all the time one has a sense that the real life of the place is the river behind these houses ; even the leisurely little railway station does not seem of much consequence, though it acts as a feeder of the boats that busily ply here. Quite obviously this is no resort of mere pleasure, and it is all the more pleasurable for that ; it has set itself to live sturdily, not troubling to attract the idler and the luxurious. Fowey is not alto- gether content to repose on its memories, though these are great. Generations of those who