Gracey of Carn Kenidjack and Bob of the Carn

Gracey grew up on a wild sea-storm-blown hill near Carn Kenidjack. Here, flower and berry-rich hedges of bramble and gorse provided shelter for her family to tend their pockets of farmland. If life was hard she did not care, for up on that hill she felt the same joy that the wild birds of those parts do as they wheel across an abundance of vast blue sea and sky. But one day her cousin, who lived down in the soft, lazy, sheltered bay of Penzance came to visit. Cousin was to be married in a fine smooth dress to a fine smooth young man. This news was like a spike of gorse, that like a splinter could not be worked out. Her love of her home was interrupted by a longing for a smooth dress, a smooth young man and a smooth life. 'If you go into service,' her cousin told her, 'you can earn the money to buy a smooth dress, then I can take you to the dances, and the smooth young man and life will follow.'

 So Gracey gathered her old clothes into a bundle and set off. She didn’t get far before she sat down and wept with sadness at leaving her home. A clip-clopping interrupted her sorrow and before she knew it, there was a man on a horse at her side, speaking softly and kindly. Encouraging her to tell her woes. 'I am Bob o’ the Carn and I have a proposal for you. At home, I have a bonny young lad. If you work for me for a year as his nursemaid, I will pay you enough for a very fine dress.' He lifted her up onto his horse and took her to his fine house. 

Inside was a bonny young lad with rosy cheeks and laughing eyes. ‘Remember, every evening you must put this ointment into his eyes. And do not meddle.’ The end of the year approached and Gracey had done her duties well. She had been curious about the ointment and about the strange music she imagined she heard as she slept, but she did not meddle. But one evening, Gracey found she had put the ointment in her apron pocket and then found herself rubbing ointment in her eyes and she knew she was meddling. She peered round the door and saw little folk feasting in the dining room, and her master with them. Then the music and dancing started. She laughed with delight and the sound of her laughter broke the spell. The little people disappeared, and all that was left was her master's disappointed face. 

He bundled up her still meagre belongings, lifted her up onto his horse and took her back home. Tears falling, she untied her bundle. Inside was a fine dress and a bag of cold coins, enough for her and her family to live in riches. And as to Gracey's dreams of a smooth fine boy, well maybe she would think some more about that.