straight line of the Pebble Ridge; and, still closer, Buck’s Mills, standing prettily amidst the wooded hills. On the left, the first rocks shut out the coast view; but Lundy Isle, about eighteen miles away, is generally distinguishable. For those who are good sailors it is an interesting expedition to Lundy. Our stay was not long enough to enable us to go; but we heard much of its wildness and beauty. There is generally a good dish of fish to be had for breakfast at Clovelly, if you are not too early. Fresh herrings or whiting are plentiful in the autumn, and the nearer your lodging is to the pier the better choice you will have.
Our first walk was to Buck’s Mills. The sea was so fresh and beautiful that we did not care to leave it, and when the tide went down we determined to go by the beach. We passed the old terraced houses, and over the rusty chains and brown fishing-nets; and at first our walk seemed easy enough, skipping from one great stone to another, but we did not find it so as we went on. The stones were, some of them, slippery, some sharp, and always we had to pick our way. A short distance from Clovelly the red-brown cliffs come down upon the shore in broken rocks. There is a passage through one; and near it, looking back, is a good view of the lower part of the village and the pier. All along the way the cliffs are beautifully wooded to the very edge; and as we saw them in their rich autumnal foliage, with the grey boulders beneath, and the fresh sea dashing and foaming about the rocks, there was much to delight the eye whichever way we turned. We rounded point after point; but Buck’s Mills was a long time before it seemed nearer to us. When at last we reached it we found a curious little place built up the hill—something in the style of Clovelly. We rested, watching the men and donkeys busily at work with the sand, and then made our way up a circuitous path, and looked at the picturesque water-mill above. Our way was along the cliff towards the Hobby: it was to be a short cut, but proved, as usual, a much longer route. We lost the path, and found that there were walls to climb and two little streams to cross. But when you are out for a walk like this such obstacles are rather diverting than otherwise; and in the end we found ourselves where we wished to be.
The Hobby is a pretty shady walk, following the bends of the coast; and as we went on here and there, between the overhanging trees, we caught beautiful bird’s-eye views of Clovelly. We believe that, by asking, any one may obtain permission to ride through, if unequal to the walk; and a carriage from the New Inn, Bideford, can always go through the Hobby the last mile. All other vehicles go round, as we did the night before. In the evening we were down on the pier, watching the boats come in. Generally something interesting is going on there, and the sailors are always willing to talk. Fine, handsome fellows, many of them are, with bright, open-hearted faces. No wonder that a painter like Hook has found many of his models here. One thing specially strikes you about them,—they all seem well to do. How this is we do not know. One would hardly think that the fishing and trading of the place could bring in very handsome incomes.
Our next day, Saturday, was spent in exploring in an opposite direction. Clovelly Court is not open to the public; but when persons have once been through with a guide they are free to do as they like. It was rather tiresome to have to follow their footsteps and listen to the tittle-tattle; but many a pretty peep would have been missed if we had gone without one. Several little summer-houses and seats are put up at the most interesting points of view. From one on the Clovelly side of the deer-park there is a good view of the Gallantry Bower Bock, which stands out boldly in a precipice of 400 feet. Of course, there is a romantic story attached to it—of a fair lady and a knight—from which it derives its name. There is a rough path down to the beach, and perhaps its height is even more imposing from below. The park was rich with heather and gorse, and troops of deer went leaping down before us. We soon ascended the hill into a place called the Wilderness, from which we had a view of the coast nearly to Hartland Point. Here we left our guide, and came back alone. We found a pleasant walk by a lower path through a beautiful wooded glen, which led us out into the road near the church. Not far from this point are Clovelly Cross and Dykes, where are the remains of an old Roman encampment.
Most of our readers know, we doubt not, the pure enjoyment of a Sunday afternoon by the sea amongst the rocks. They will find many quiet little nooks near Clovelly. Is it true, as an eloquent author of modern times has suggested, “that the Teutonic eye has a keener instinct, and the Teutonic mind a purer relish, for landscape beauty,” than the ancients had, or foreign nations of the present day? Then would we thank God that we are English men and women, that the glories of His earth and sky can awaken such deep feelings in our hearts.
Thou who hast given me eyes to see,
And love this sight so fair,
Give me a heart to find out Thee,
And read Thee everywhere.
