The Giants of Trecrobben and the Mount

Traditions and Hearthside Stories of West Cornwall, Vol. 1, by William Bottrell, [1870], at sacred-texts.com

p. 49

The Giants of Trecrobben and the Mount

Some of the giant race were still to be found in the high countries a few centuries ago, who had six fingers on each hand and six toes on each foot, but they were much smaller than their forefathers. In old times one of this extra-fingered, double-jointed race lived in his castle on Crobenhill, at the same time that a cousin of his kept house in a cavern of the Mount, about three miles from Trencrom. These two giants being on very friendly terms made one cobbling-hammer serve for the use of both. This hammer they used to throw forth and back between the Mount and Trencrom, as either of them happened to want it. One afternoon the giant of the Mount called from the mouth of his cave, "Hallo up there, Trecrobben, throw us down the hammer, west ah?" "Iss, in a minute; look sharp and catch en," says he. It so happened that the wife of Careg-Cowse (as the giant of the Mount was called), having her full share of curiosity, wanted to see Trecrobben, to ask after his old woman, and to know what was going on up amongst the hills. The sun shining bright at the time, dazzled her eyes when she came out of her dark cave, and before she had the time to shade her face with her apron, whilst she was poking in her husband's way, down came the hammer, whack hit her right between the eyes, and settled her. The noise the giants made in mourning over the death of the giantess was dreadful to hear;—the roaring of Tregeagle was nothing to their bellowing, echoed from hill to hill. Trecrobben buried his treasures deep among the cairns of his castle, and grieved himself to death for the misfortune to his old croney's wife. Every now and then, down to the present time, many persons have dug all about the cairns on Trecrom, of moonshiny nights, in hopes of finding the crocks of gold that the giant buried there, but whenever they dig so deep as to touch the flat stone that covers the mouth of the crock, and hear it ring hollow, out from the crevices of the rocks and cairns come troops of frightful-looking spriggens who raise such dreadful weather that it scares the diggers away.