Liskeard church was the second largest in Cornwall, and in it we saw a “Lepers’ squint” and also a turret at the corner of the aisle from which the priest could preach to the lepers without coming in contact with them, for the disease was very infectious—­so much so that the hospital built for them was a mile or two from the town.  “Lepers’ squints” had been common in some parts of England, and as the disease is often mentioned in the Bible, we considered it must have been imported from the East, perhaps from Palestine by the Crusaders.  We had not seen or heard of any cases of leprosy on our journey, and we concluded that the disease could not have been natural to our colder climate, and had therefore died out as a result of more cleanly habits.  The pulpit was dated 1632, the carving on it being the work of a local sculptor, whose remuneration, we were told, was at the rate of one penny per hour, which appeared to us to be a very small amount for that description of work.  Possibly he considered he was working for the cause of religion, and hoped for his further reward in a future life; or was it a silver penny?

[Illustration:  LISKEARD CHURCH.]

The houses in Liskeard were built of stone, and the finest perhaps was that known as Stuart House, so named because King Charles I stayed there for about a week in 1644.  This was of course in the time of the Civil War, when Cornwall, as it practically belonged to the King or his son, did not consider itself as an ordinary county, but as a duchy, and was consequently always loyal to the reigning sovereign.  It was also a difficult county for an invading army to approach, and the army of the Parliament under the Earl of Essex met with a disastrous defeat there.

But we must not forget the Holy Wells, as the villages and towns took their names from the saints who presided at the wells.  That of St. Keyne, quite near Liskeard, is described by Southey: 

  A Well there is in the West Country,
    And a clearer one never was seen;
  There is not a wife in the West Country
    But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne.

  An oak and an elm-tree stand beside,
    And behind doth an ash-tree grow,
  And a willow from the bank above
    Droops to the water below.

St. Keyne introduced the rather remarkable belief that the first of a newly married couple to drink of the water of her well, whether husband or wife, should in future rule the home.  We supposed that the happy pair would have a race to the well, and the one who arrived there first would ever afterwards play the first fiddle, if that instrument was in use in the time of St. Keyne.  But a story was related of how on one occasion the better-half triumphed.  No sooner had the knot been tied than the husband ran off as fast as he could to drink of the water at St. Keyne’s Well, leaving his wife in the church.  When he got back he found the lady had been before him, for she had brought a bottle of the water from the well with her to church, and while the man was running to the well she had been quietly seated drinking the water in the church porch!