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Even under these circumstances imagination, as though rebelling against the conditions of sunshine and summer then maintaining, leaped to picture Men Scryfa under the black screaming of winter storm or rising darkly upon deep snows; casting a transitory shadow over a waste ghastly blue under flashes of lightning, or throbbing to its deep roots when thunder roared over the moor and the levin brand hissed unseen into quag and fen.
Joan, keeping her way to where Carn Galvas rose over the next ridge, walked another few hundred yards, crossed a disused road, climbed a stony bank, and then stood in the little croft sacred to Men Scryfa. At the center, above a land almost barren save for stunted heath and wind-beaten fern it rose a tall stone of rough and irregular shape.
The granite pillar of Men Scryfa was crested with that fine yellow-gray lichen which finds life on exposed stones; upon the windward side clung a few atoms of golden growth; and its rude carved inscription straggled down the northern face.
With a plump pasty of meat and flour in her pocket and one of Uncle Chirgwin's walking-sticks to help her footsteps, Joan went on her way, passed the Wesleyan Chapel of Sancreed, and then maintained a reasonably direct line to her destination by short cuts and field paths. She intended to visit Men Scryfa, that famous "long stone" which stands away in a moor croft beyond Lanyon.
Men Scryfa marks the memory of a good Briton one who knew King Arthur, very likely. I love the old stones too. You are right to love them. They are landmarks in time, books from which we may read something of a far, fascinating past." "Iss, but I ded'n tell 'e all 'bout the Madern waters.
Presently she prayed for the coming child. Her soul went with the words; and they were addressed with vagueness as became her vague thoughts, half to Men Scryfa, half to God, all in the name of Christ. That they should have coexisted and not destroyed each other is the point of most peculiarity.
An' 'tis good for grawn people tu, awnly folks is afeared to try now 'cause t'others laugh at en. But I reckon the Madern brook's holy water still. An' theer's wonnerful things said 'bout the crick-stones an' long stones tu. A many of 'em stands round 'bout these paarts." "D'you know Men Scryfa the stone with the writing on it? That's a famous long stone, up beyond Lanyon Farmhouse."
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