A DRIVING TOUR IN ENGLAND.

Lyttelton Times, Volume LIV, Issue 6119, 6 October 1880, Page 6

A DRIVING TOUR IN ENGLAND.

No. VIII. As the rain showed nosigns of departing from Two Bridget, it woe necessary to depart from it. So wo started off on a visit to Hobo. As usual we were pretty well dry by l ho timowo reached our destination. Wo put up Polly at Ohuroh House, whore Baby made the acquaintance of a widow lady and her family who wore spending a month at Mrs Kasterbroek's. The Jody gave Baby some grapes, and the children lent he** a doll to ploy with, and she stayed with them while wo started off in tho hot sun to see the romantic grounds of Auckland and Hobo Chose, which follows tho course of the Dart. About a mile above tho bridge the river (lows through rather a deep ravine, whore tho rooks are widely scattered about, their savagery softened by ferns and mosses of tho softest greens imaginable. What a change Hobo Obaso was to us after our wild moorland ! Tho thick woods, wiio smooth lawns, and brilliant llowor gardens and conservatories, tho hot sun ana sultry airs and cloudless sky made it almost impossible to realise that an hour or two ago wo wore defending ourselves as best wo could from tho wrathful elements, while our umbrellas turned inside out, and cascades continually flowed down our noses and the back of our nooks. Yet so it was j and so it would bo again, probably*, when wo once more reached the high lands in another few hours time. Also, strange to say, wo did not desire to remain in this romantic neighbourhood Hobo Inn (or Church House) is rather shut in and dirty. Tho porch was full of uncomfortably worm village children, ond the room where wo lunched contained five concertinas ; _ suggestive of musical evenings, exhilarating, no doubt to the performers, but not wo should think—to tho widow lady upstairs. So wo turned oar backs upon Charles Kingsley’s birthplace, upon tho old churchyard, with its solemn solitary vow and hoary orois, and started for Buckland and the Moor. The men of Holne, like the men of most villages, are bad at describing a route. How many did wo implore with open map to explain to us tho ways wherein wo ought to drive F The map gave a straight road over the moor from Hobe to Prince Town, but nobody travels by that we were told. “ Why P” wo asked, and this question no one could answer. In our dilemma we met our acquaintance Captain Westhcad, of Prince Ball, near Two Bridges. He was driving a farmer’s cart, containing a calf, whoso mother followed with a man on foot. When Polly had done shying at this equipage, Captain Westhcad informed us that ho had ones driven to Prince Town across tho moor by Huckaby, and never should again. So wo made up our minds to travel as far as the cross roads, and then turn into tho Ashburton road once more. Our route was on almost continuous ascent for nearly three miles. Buckland Beacon, on our right, a rocky outlier of tho moor, must have a glorious prospect, for wo on our mountain side beheld all the lands as far as the coast to the cast, with the blue sea showing nt every dip of tho distant hills. The estuary of the Teign looked like a lake, and tho country between tho beacon ond the hills round Torquay and Mary Church, with their thickly clustering villas, was spread out peacefully in the soft evening sunshine. We climbed upon tho granite rocks that crowned the hill at tho highest point of our route. As usual, one could have declared they must have been piled up there, the look of arrangement about them being just that presented by huge ruins. Tho winding Dart was once more with us now, and more beautiful than ever this lovely evening. The various colours of the hills, among which it cuts its circuitous course, were diversified by the blues and purples of the distance no less than by the local hues of pine woods, gorse, heather and bracken. Sudden freaks of sunshine lit up now a sharp peak, now a patch of crimson heather, now a furzey slope, soon to be thrown into purple shadow by swiftly passing clouds. Before leaving Dartmoor it was necessary to explore a few of the valleys that branch off from tho principal one wherein stands two bridges. How different are their characteristics ! One just opposite our inn is very narrow, adorned on each side of the rocky stream by beautiful tall trees, sheltered by the high and steep hillsides. At its widest point is a charming little meadow, not destitute of boggy places, where small streams trickle to join the winding Dart. Over the river at this spot stretches a fine clapper bridge. B. sketches it amid sharp showers of rain, while Baby leaps the boggy places, rufhei for shelter into the tall woods close by. The neighbouring valley a mile or two away is a very different affair. Here a stony stream winds along unsheltered by trees, uncrossed by bridges ; no farmhouse stands at the head of the vale, no “ cows feed in narrow flowery mead.” The hills are steep on either side, and their tops are crowned with piles of granite slabs. All down the hillside where wo picked our way among boggy places, stones were strewn, some in groups of circles or avenues, while others had evidently toppled down from the granite summit above. Having examined those boulders with much interest both of tho party manifesting much judicious scepticism regarding tho others discoveries of circles and menhires, and a pitiable credulity concerning his own, we descended to the gaol of our pilgrimage—Wistman’a Wood. This grove of ancient heavy stunted oaks is the most weird sight wa have yet met with. Tho trees have knotted, entangled branches, and thick stems all thickly coated with moss and lichen. But the most curious throughout this isolated wood, growing among thick bracken and huge stones on the bleak hill side is its height—never will you find a tree nine feet high. Wo plucked a twig off a tree not quite as tall as a man, but possessing three stems, each bigger round than a man’s body, and branching out of tho ground. Tho tree was covered with fine leaves of a peculiarly bright dark green, and was, notwithstanding its extreme age and hoariness and dwarfish form, evidently in excellent condition. It is almost impossible to walk among these aged oaks by reason of tho masses of sharp blocks of granite all around them, and snakes find shelter among the stones and bracken. This wood is supposed to bo the only remnant of ancient Dartmoor Forest. There is, wo believe, nothing like these oaks anywhere. Perchance the patch of hill side whore they grow is sheltered, and these aged pigmies, unambitious, have continued through centuries and centuries of change to put forth fresh loaves vigorously, wherewith to adorn their lichen crusted limbs. Of course wa were wot through during this excursion, our cheerful companion, the rain, never deserting us for long. Before starting for Ohagford, wo had a visitor—Mr Perrot by name—a name, as he informed us, which was to bo found in all Dartmoor guide books, as that of the wellknown guide to this boggy intricate region. Unfortunately we had no Dartmoor guide book, but we hod hoard of Perrot, and we informed him that we desired to go to Oranmoro Pool tho next day. He was shocked at the suddenness of our request. The subject of Cranmoro Pool should be approached cautiously, circuitously as you approach the Pool itself, and with fitting reverence, especially in addressing one who is, as it wore, the high priest of its mysteries. “ Oranmere Pool! to-morrow ? " said tho ancient cicerone, crushing the enthusiastic B. with the overwhelming scorn of his speech and aspect. "Can you not take us there?" said B.’ submissively. “ We want so much to go, and wo believe that you alone, Mr Perrot, know how to steer clear of tho bogs, and load us safely there." " Yes,” ho said, doggedly, “ tho pool is surrounded on all sides by bogs. I’ve taken folks there these forty-five years, I am the only one who knows tho safe path to tho pool." " Well, can’t you take us there ?" "I can’t) not yet, at all events. Tomorrow I take a largo party of gentlemen from Plymouth. Can’t go two days running. Mr Perrot is getting old and shaky on his logs. _ And now from a laudable aesire to magnify his office ho threw all imaginable difficulties in the way of our excursion. To judge by his talk, you must be happy to bo only wet through from head to foot during this perilous expedition. A slight bog or two was of course to be thought nothing of. One might be very thankful if one did not dis-

appear altogether—which one certainly would do without hi* guidance. So much wo wrung from him—that ho would ho about taking us, but thinking over tho matter afterwards wo shrewdly suipooted that there might bo perchance another person in tho world who know tho path to Oranmoro Pool, and in truth to it proved, for at Drowsteignton wo discovered an old thateher, who chuckled hugely at the idea of Pcrrot being tho only man who knew tho way, and offered to take u* there tho very next day j “ only," ho said, ** it may juit happen that there be no pool.' Cramnoro Pool is certainly a wild spot, and there is a considerable amount of bog to be traversed, or, if possible, avoided in getting there. It is tho only lake in Dartmoor, and tho place where half » dozen of it* stream*, including the Dart, have their rise. Both Polly ami Bruce became very saucy and impudent with tho moorland air; tho former noighe whenever her master approaches and nibbles any portion of our garment* that she can reach, and the latter not only appropriate* tbo easy chair whenever it i* vacant, and refuse* to give it up union violently dislodged, but whenever ho find* hi* master or mistress Boated therein, and ho himself is not equally comfortable, he plant* himself before them and squeak* lon ff and deliberately. Soothing and petting failing to pacify his majesty, the only resource is to quit the chair in which ho immediately ensconces himself. An hour or go later lie rolls down on tho floor in hi* sleep, to hi* groat surprise and confusion, and when insult is added to injury by tho derision of hi* friends, he remain* very sulky for *omo time after. Wo took him down to tho river hard by, along with a scrubbing brush and piece of soap, and ho stood still in tho water, and endured a thorough bathing with exemplary patience, Tho capers ho cut in the meadow* when his scrubbing was over, sent all tho animals, cows, pigs, ducks and fowls, flying in all directions, and set Baby a-laugh* ing and dancing with delight and emulation. Instead of continuing on the road to Moreton, ve once more diverged to tho right as if on our way to Widdicombo-on-the-Moor. Wo left the carriage and Baby at the way* side inn of Nowhouse in tbo care of an old woman, and sot off to walk down to tho valley over heathery hills, cut and disfigured by tho mines. Our destination was Grimspound, an ancient stone village on tho north-west slope of Hamildon. It was tantalising to see the pound in front of us, and have to descend into one valley, ascend a hill and descend and ascend again before reaching it. Owing to tho constant wetting our boots had been subjected to of late, walking was uncomfortable on this rough ground. The walk was full of excitement for Bruce. The enormous number of rabbits that unceasingly called for his notice, was fast wearing him out. At every step he took, a a rabbit appeared looking at him out of his hole. Off he started in pursuit, then half a dozen more capered away through the crimson heather, up and down atoney mounds aid along the sides of mining quarries, till tho Eoor dog was quite out of breath. Yet, when o returned panting, limping along with bleeding feet after his mad pursuit, no sooner did ho reach our side than five or six more rabbits looked forth at him from out of holes, behind knolls or tufts of heather. H* could not bear it, and off he rushed again. Grimspound was tho largest stone circle we had seen. The wall in parts is 20ft thick at the base, but it is only six feet high. The area enclosed is between four or five acres, and contains several hut circles. “At last!" exclaimed B. as she sat herself down in the shelter of those Cyclopean walls that had protected her savage forefathers so many centuries agone. “At last!" we did not quite know why we had made such a point of visiting this ancient fortress, but so it was. Twice before wo had started ; twice the storm had foiled us. “ Yeu’m going to try again be you ?” the old woman at Postbridge Pike had said that day as wo drove through with our white pony for the third time and paid our sixpence. And now, after all, what was it we had come to see in the midst of tlie rough moorland and ragged tors, up lull and down dale? “A cattle pound,” said A. But this theory was inadmissible. ‘lf it be not an aboriginal fortress,” remarked B. with dignity, “which is much more likely than that it should be such a vulgar thing as a cattle pound with keepers* dwellings—then it is a Scandinavian fortress erected for protection against the native Kelts—what would be the use of a cattle pound with walls 20ffc thick ? ” Baby was very much interested in circles and cromlechs,* and was only distressed that her nurse at home would be too ignorant to sympathise with her in this particular. We visited a fine cromlech on our way to Drewsteignton this day, but Baby observed sadly, as she gazed at it, “ There is no use in my telling Watts about this, you know—she wo. ’t even know what a Cromlech is !” she added with pitiful scorn.

We found Chagford quite full. Tkere are three good-sized inns and many lodging houses, and not a bed to be had. But four miles off at Drewsteignton, a tiny village with a good church, wo found a clean little inn with a horsey host, who groomed Polly well, and a comely hostess whoso cooking was confined to the production of watery poached eggs, and the toughest and thickest masses of bacon we had yet experienced. Hero we met our thatcher, before mentioned. On our excursion to Cranmere, he related the most salient events of his life. “ Perhaps you won’t believe what I’m telling your honour,” he said, “ but there’s many a time for months together, when mo and my Missus have lived on nothen but a crust of bread and a glass of water. We’ve ad twelve children, and ten of em living.” “ Ay, Zir," said our host, when he heard this. “ Ay, Zir,” though ’e ’avo got all they, ho aint as badly off as many more in this parish in that way.” The old thatcher was eloquent on the subject of Mr Whyddon, of Whyddon Park, a wild rock strewn, and tree - clothed hill-side in the defile of the Teign above Kingle Bridge. “ I mind the times about fifty yearagono f ”hosaid, “when I wore a boy of thirteen or fourteen, when he come from King’s Teignton to live at Whyddon Park, and were loft by his father thirty thousand pounds ; now I don’t suppose ho have thirty thousand shillings! One thing ho were a terrible fellow for going to law, and as my father used to say, zir, them as gets the best of it only gets a .ragged coat, and them as gets the worst of it gets no coat at all.” With all these rich country gentlemen about, and with such a wealthy rector, it seems strange that a hard-working man should ever be so near starvation as our thatcher. The rector has a largo estate with rich glebe lands into the bargain. He performed the service in the pretty stone church the next day—a service more destitute of the letter H than any no have heard in our wanderings. The congregation consisted of two or three pews of quietly dressed ladies, who arrived in ono horse chaises from the country round, two or three paws full of very smart, pinohed-in, shiny-faced round-backed farmers’ daughters and cottage girls, and a few quiet hand-fide villagers, a friend or two of the parson-squire's, and a hard-faced solicitor from Chagford. The most prominent performer was of course the ancient scornful, solemn, and important. We e beseech thee-ce tu ’oar us oude Lo-ord,” ho repeated, doubling the syllables of every important word in his responses. When this pillar of the Church first loomed upon our sight, his raised eyebrows with outside corners travelling to his temples, his tightly pursod-up lips, important wrinkles downwards from eyes, nose, and mouth, his quavering speech and palsied hands, seemed too muah of a caricature not to force a smile oven in that holy place. But one gets accustomed to everything, and wo doubt whether it occurs to the lightest spirit among that simple congregation that there is aught to be amused at in yon time-honoured institution. Our parson’s sermon surprised us. It did not strike us os in keeping with this mildlooking gentleman-—tall, with fair smooth brow, spectacles and brown beard. It began with a description of a 11 document three yards long,” containing the enumeration of the crimes of a convict at Norfolk Island, which convict wag subsequently executed. At the eleventh crime, sleep overcame us, but not before we had remarked with sadness that the H-loss-ness of the clerk and the choir and the most pronounced members of the congregation, had communicated itself to the parson himself. After church, Baby entered into a convert otion with a lady member of the

congregation,whowa* waiting at tin)inn door. j Having * series of weU-oood acted inqowe*, that thi* lady’* name was Bragg, that »h* fired » few mile* off, and that the carriage w« her Tory own and having satisfied herself concerning tho number ami name* of her interlocutor’* offspring, and received from her » gelatine lozenge, eho condescendingly bode her adieu, and ezprcMed her doiire to riiit the grate* in tho churchyard. Three granite tombstones at the hi-*d of throe grave*, covered thickly with lovely (lower*, and railed in with care, touched u* by their sod history. They war* all that remained of the poor Schoolmaster'* beloved one*-—hi* wife and two children. Hie wife aged thirty-one year*, hi* baby who survived it* mother for five month*, and hi* little daughter aged six. " Thine eye* (hall *«e the King in hi* beauty, and tho land which la very far off," Thi* !• what tho poor bereaved one write* above his wife’s grave—the consolation wherewith ho tries to quiet bis own moaning—the thought of the beautiful sights she will see. " Ho’m so oat up, ho’* net got over it yet, though its three year* back," said tho landlord, approaching.