LYNTON (population 1059) cluster. At LYNMOUTH,* the principal Inn is "The Lyndale;" at LYNTON, the "Castle" and the "Valley of Rocks Hotel" are both beautifully situated.

Lynton stands upon an almost perpendicular hill, 428 feet above the sea. A road winds down this steep declivity to the beach, where, at the junction of the East and West Lyns with the sea, lies the most romantic little village in the west of England. These two streams tumble down two deep valleys, or gorges, which start, as it were, from one common point, but diverge eastward and westward as they approach the coast. The valley of WEST LYN is clothed with umbrageous pines, while, on either hand, the rocks rise in fantastic forms to an extraordinary altitude; and the river leaps, and eddies, and whirls, and seethes, and frets along its rocky bed. The road to Lynmouth is carried down this valley. The valley of EAST LYN is still more romantic in its character, and the stream falls in a succession of shimmering cascades among ferny depths, and in the shadow of magnificent trees. Southey speaks of Lynmouth as "the finest spot, except Cintra and the Arrabida," which he had ever seen. "Two rivers," he writes, "join at Lynmouth. Each of these flows down a combe, rolling over huge stones like a long waterfall; immediately at their junction they enter the sea; and the river and the sea make but one sound of uproar. Of these combes, the one is richly wooded, the other runs between two high, bare, stony hills. From the hill between the two is a prospect most magnificent; on either hand, combes; and the river before the little village This alone would constitute a view beautiful enough to repay the weariness of a long journey; but to complete it, there is the blue and boundless sea." The West Lyn, in the course of a quarter of a mile, descends no less than 400 feet. On the west side, the hills reach an elevation of 700 feet above the sea, but farther inland they attain 900 feet, and at Chapman Burrows 1500 feet.

The CHURCH, dedicated to St. Mary, is ancient, but has been twice enlarged. Sir W. Herries has a beautiful park and pleasant house in the West Lyn valley. The angler will find an abundance of excellent sport in the "fishful stream;" and the botanist may look for the ivy-leaved campanula, many of the rarest

* Lynmouth was for awhile, in 1812, the residence of Shelley, and, about the same time, it was visited by William Godwin.

members of the beautiful fern family, Lastræa oreopteris, orpine, Lastræa filix mas palearia, and hymenophyllum unilaterale.

The tourist must not fail to follow the course of the river inland (for about 1 mile) to see the celebrated WATERS' MEET. One of the finest roads imaginable winds about half-way along the side of the romantic chasm of Lyndale (or East Lyn); while the river, 200 ft. below, flows with lucent wave through a picturesque and rocky channel, until the valley opens upon two other pine-clad glens, whose streams uniting form the river we have just been exploring. A pretty cottage (Rev. W. Halliday), built at the confluence of the streams, lends a peculiar grace to this lovely landscape.

The finest view of Lynmouth is, however, obtainable from the sea. The rugged mountain which rises above it—the two wooded valleys, obscure and shadowy, which open upon the shore-the cottages peeping out of their environment of foliage the river sparkling under its rustic bridge, and among its clustering ferns— combine to produce a picture, which, for "colour" and "ideality,” cannot be matched on the whole north coast of Devon.

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The VALLEY of Rocks at Lynton must next be visited, and the wayfarer, on entering it, will assuredly fancy that he has unwittingly plunged into the ruins of some antediluvian world. You ascend from Lynmouth by a road, 300 feet in length, which winds along the side of a fearful declivity, whose ridge is partially clothed with verdure, and suddenly opens into a wonderful gorge or ravine, bounded seaward by a fantastic rampart of contorted rocks. 66 Imagine," says Southey, a narrow vale between two ridges of hills, somewhat steep, the southern hill turfed; the vale, which runs from east to west, covered with huge stones, and fragments of stone among the fern that fills it; the northern ridge completely bare, excoriated of all turf and all soil, the very bones and skeleton of the earth; rock reclining upon rock, stone piled upon stone, a huge terrific mass. A palace of the PreAdamite kings, a city of the Anakim must have appeared so shapeless, and yet so like the ruins of what had been shaped after the waters of the flood subsided. I ascended with some toil the highest point; two large stones inclining on each other formed a rude portal on the summit. Here I sat down. A little level platform, about two yards long, lay before me, and then the eye immediately fell upon the sea, far, very far below. I never felt the sublimity of solitude before."

To this graphic description we may add some general remarks. The valley would appear to have been the course of a vast and violent torrent, which rent asunder the mountains on its way into the Severn. Its length is about mile, its average width 100 yards, but it broadens as it approaches the sea. On each side the acclivities form an angle of about 47°, and exhibit huge masses of rocks, either fixed or detached, which have assumed the most fantastic forms imaginable. At the west extremity, which terminates in a small cove, stands an isolated pile of extraordinary magnitude, and conoidal shape. From its summit the view is one which our pen refuses to describe.

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Generally speaking, these rocks consist of a fine-grained argillaceous grit, of a lamellar fracture, and, in some instances, friable and loose textured; the colour is internally a bluish gray, and minute particles of mica may be distinguished throughout the mass."—(Maton.) In the centre of the valley are the remains of some stone circles, about 40 feet in diameter, which are supposed to be Druidical.

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The legend attaching to this remarkable locality is worth narration:-Of Lynton Castle not a stone remains, but once upon a time" it was as stately a stronghold as ever echoed to the clash of knightly arms. To its gates, one evening, came a stalwart monk, and he prayed for help in the name of the Blessed Virgin, but the lady of the castle liked not his gloomy brow, and bade him begone. Whereupon he raised his clenched hand, and drew up his well-knit frame, and vowed—“ All that is thine shall be mine, until in the porch of the holy church a lady and a child shall stand and beckon!"

Years glided away into the shadowy sea of the past, and lo, the church of St. John was pulled down by the baron who had succeeded to the estates of Lynton, and whose greed was such that he dared to lay his hand even upon holy treasures. Then, as he sate among his gold, the Black Monk suddenly entered, and summoned him to his fearful audit; and his servants, roused by his cries, found only a lifeless corse. His son, smitten to the heart by the doom which hung over his house, girded on his sword, took up the cross, and in Palestine did doughty deeds against the Saracen; but by his side was ever seen the Black Monk, as his friend and guide, and, alas, the wine-cup and the smiles of lewd women soon lured him from the path of right. Ah me! heavy were the souls of mother and sister when the ill tidings reached them

in the lone tower of Lynton, and happy were they when, at length, Death the consoler brought to them a sweet repose.

So the knight returned to the Devonshire valley, and lo, on the happy Sabbath morning, the chimes of the church-bells flung out their silver music on the air, and the memories of an innocent childhood woke up instantly in his sorrowing heart. In vain the Black Monk sought to beguile him from the holy fane, and whispered to him of bright eyes and a distant bower. He paused, for only a moment! In the shadow of the porch stood the luminous forms of his mother and sister, a glory wrapping them around, and a divine music issuing from the heavens above. They lifted up their spirit hands; they beckoned! The knight tore himself from the Black Monk's grasp, and rushed towards them, exclaiming, "I come! I come! Mother, sister, I am saved! O Heaven, have pity on me!" And lo, the three were borne upwards in a radiant cloud, while angels were glad over a sinner that had repented. But the Black Monk leapt headlong into the depths of the abyss beneath, and the castle fell to pieces with a sudden crash, and where its towers had soared statelily into the sunlit air was now outspread the very desolation of Nature—the Valley of the Rocks!

[HINTS FOR RAMBLES.-In the vicinity of Lynton the walks are numerous and beautiful, and the whole country side is replete with charm and interest. 1. What finer ramble can pedestrian desire than through the Valley of the Rocks, and by Combe Martin and Watermouth to ILFRACOMBE-17 miles, returning, by coach, along the turnpike road, a 20 miles' drive (Fares, 6s. and 4s.) 2. TO BARNSTAPLE is a long day's excursion, and, of course, the tourist must pass the night there, but the road lies through a very delectable landscape. 3. Shorter strolls will take him to the pretty little nook on the bank of the Parracombe, where the "Hunter's Inn" affords a modest refection; or, 4, to BRENDON, 4 miles south-east, a romantic hamlet in a deep ravine; or, 5, across COUNTISBURY HILL (1100 feet high, and crowned with an ancient camp), and by way of OLD BARROW, another British hill-fort, into the luxuriant groves of GLENTHORNE (Rev. W. Halliday), 7 miles, returning along the coast. 6. The adventurous tourist may even penetrate into EXMOOR FOREST, now a broad expanse of heath and gorse, enlivened by some abundant trout streams, as far as MOLE'S CHAMBER-a dangerous morass named after a rash Devonshire farmer who, spite of warnings, rode right into its depths, and was swallowed up immediately. LEE ABBEY (Charles Bailey, Esq.) is only 1 mile west of Lynton. The house is modern, occupying the site of a mansion built by Von Wichhalse, a wealthy Fleming, driven from Holland by the tyrannies of the terrible Alva. The fair daughter of Sir Edward Von Wichhalse was betrayed by one of James II.'s courtiers, and gradually sinking into decay, was found, at last, among the rocks of Duty Point-a corpse. The infuriated father, unable to obtain any justice from the King, eagerly enlisted under the banner of Monmouth; and after the defeat of Sedgmuir, rode in hot haste to Lee Abbey, embarked all his family on board a small skiff, and

at night attempted his escape. But the winds rose, the boat was overcrowded; it foundered in the storm, and all were lost.

During the season, steamers from Bristol, Swansea, and Tenby call regularly at Lynmouth and Ilfracombe-fares, 3s. and 2s. Saddle-horses are also procurable at Ilfracombe for a day's ride (by turnpike road) to Lynton and back-fares, 7s. Coaches run daily, during the summer months, between Lynton and Minehead and Bridgewater, and between Ilfracombe and Lynton.]

ROUTE III. AXMINSTER to EXETER-by RAIL.

LONDON AND SOUTH-WESTERN RAILWAY.-Express from London at 9 a.m., reaches Exeter, 2.5 p.m.

[Axminster to Colyton, 4 m.; Honiton, 6 m.; Ottery Road, 34 m.; Whimple, 5 m.; Broad Clyst, 3 m.; Exeter, 4 m. (Queen Street Station); 188 m. from London = 25 m.]

Onward and onward the highway runs to the distant city,

impatiently bearing

Tidings of human joy and disaster, of love and of hate, of doing and daring!-Longfellow.

AXMINSTER.

[Population, 2700. Inns: The George, and the Old Bell.

147 m. from London; 7 m. from Axmouth; 23 m., by road, from Exeter; 14 m. from Crewkerne; 12 m. from Bridport; 27 m. from Dorchester; 5 m. from Lyme Regis; 9 m. from Honiton ; 7 m. from Chard; 19 m. from Collumpton.

Bankers: Messrs. Williams & Co., and Branch of Wilts and Dorset Banking Company. Market days: Tuesday and Friday.]

Omnibuses run daily between Axminster and Lyme; Colyton and Seaton; Honiton and Sidmouth.

There are many reasons why the tourist should pause at Axminster. The valley of the Axe is very beautiful; abounding mostly in a soft and tranquil kind of loveliness; but, where it opens upon the sea, assuming an aspect of actual grandeur. Grassy slopes, and broad rich meadows, and quiet villages nestling among patriarchal trees, brightly salute him at every turn. From a hill about a mile westward of the town a fine view of the valley is obtainable the wood-crowned heights of Shute and Colyton rise against the purpling sky; the murmurous stream ripples pleasantly below; to the eastward lies the old town upon the hillside, "looking quaintly enough with its comfortable thatch-covered dwellings clustering around its ancient church." The valley stretches southward, its sloping sides luxuriantly clothed with oak, and beech, and elm, and sycamore. Through an opening in the

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