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Updated: May 22, 2025
But the effect of that night was to shatter my health for a year and more, and force me to throw up my post of School Inspector. To this day I have never examined the school at Pitt's Scawens. But somebody else has; and last winter I received a letter, which I will give in full: 21, Chesterham Road, KENSINGTON, W. December 3rd, 1891. Dear Wraxall,
On leaving the University I had taken orders; but, for reasons impertinent to this narrative, was led, after five years of parochial work in Surrey, to accept an Inspectorship of Schools. Just now I was bound for Pitt's Scawens, a desolate village among the Cornish clay-moors, there to examine and report upon the Board School.
Pitt's Scawens lies some nine miles off the railway, and six from the nearest market-town; consequently, on hearing there was a comfortable inn near the village, I had determined to make that my resting-place for the night and do my business early on the morrow. "Who lives down yonder?" I asked my driver. "Squire Parkyn," he answered, not troubling to follow my gaze. "Old family?"
It is not usual for a village to lie a full mile beyond its inn: yet I never doubted this must be the case with Pitt's Scawens.
It is a long time since we have corresponded, but I have just returned from Cornwall, and while visiting Pitt's Scawens professionally, was reminded of you. I put up at the inn where you had your long illness. The people there were delighted to find that I knew you, and desired me to send "their duty" when next I wrote.
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