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tufted with pink seathrift and clad with yielding turf; while quarried out below by the constant sapping of the flood into an arch which is outspread like the stony jaws of some gigantic monster of the deep, yawning for its prey. Here in the eleventh century the ships of pilgrims touched, on their voyage from Ripa, in Denmark, to the Holy Land. Then crossing at Portlemouth, the estuary of Salcombe, where Sir Edmund Fortescue held the castle for a siege of four months, like a brave cavalier, and skirting the grounds of Moult (late Lord Courtenay's), and the North and South Sands, in which is buried a hazel-nut wood, petrified years ago, the traveller will reach the majestic Bolt Head, wild and desolate, with a certain savage sublimity, the fissures and chasms relieved by the orange lichen and the ivy, and the scattered heather in the hollows of its rocky scalp of mica slate, which rises to a height of 430 feet. From a cave beneath, according to a legend, found also in the Basque Province and on the western shore of India, a huge coalblack bull is said to have found his way beneath the cliffs to a bay two miles distant, where he issued out as white as new-fallen snow.

From this point to the Bolt Tail, under which is Ramillies Cove, where H. M. S. Ramillies was lost 1760, there is a succession of land slips which yielded after the storms and waves of ages had torn and riven these gloomy rocks, now wild and desolate, now grand and sublime, sometimes richly coloured, sometimes relieved by samphire and ivy, but all a vast solitude, silence on every hand, without a sound or sight of domestic life. There is not even so much as the tinkling of a sheep-bell, or a wreath of smoke curling from the humblest roof, but only the distant roar of the hoarse-sounding sea as it dashes against the echoing steeps, or the melancholy cry of the sea-bird as it flies homeward to its callow brood, safely nestling in their crannies. The pedestrian, proceeding by the coast to Plymouth, from Bolt Head, passes Stairhole and Falcombe Mewstone, Saw Mill Cove, Colbury Down, with the chasms known as Vincent Pits and the Smuggler Ralph's Hole; by the Bolt Tail, Ramillies Cove, Bigbury Bay,


457 the creek of Hope ; Thurlstone, across the mouth of the Avon, with Burr island before it; by Ringmore and Mothercombe across the inouth of the Erme; by the wind-worn lonely church of Revelstoke ; by the crag and Stoke Point, across the mouth of the Yealm ; by Wembury weather-stained church upon the further shore, where, in 851, Duke Ceorl, of Devon, defeated the Danes—the Mewstone far out at sea on the south; by Bovisand and Hoo lake, and the ferry across Catwater into Plymouth. In St. Lawrence's, Bigbury, are a brass of dame Elizabeth de Bigbury; and a finely-carved pulpit once at Ashburton. In St. Bartholomew, Yealmpton, lately restored, there are two sedilia, and a brass of Sir J. Crocker, cup-bearer to Edward IV., died 1508. There are three sedilia, a water-drain, and an octagonal font. If here there are no soft scenes of rural beauty, if there be no ruins which are the history of the past, and the sculptured stone its chronicle, to raise the heart from common-place realities to the purifying effect of storied and poetical association, yet in one respect every spot the most famous in history or fable must yield to these beetling rocks and this wilderness of stone. In their colossal proportions, and their resistance for ages to the tides, which have hollowed out bays on every side but here, they bear a sublime witness to the grandeur and omnipotence of the Creator, and have never been stained by the vices and passions of man.

The railway from Newton Bushel to Plymouth passes through the lovely country of the South Hams. At Newton station passengers bound for Torquay and Paignton proceed by the branch railway. The main line now mounts by sharp steep curves, with a rise of 1 in 38 or 40, through the haunted pass of Stony Coombe, to Dainton Tunnel; the church tower of Littlehampton is seen on the right before reaching TOTNESS station. The train passes over Rattery, viaduct, 50 feet high, and consisting of 6 arches, each of 30-feet span ; through Marley tunnel, three quarters of a mile long, so called from the adjoining Marley Park (Lady Carew); on the right rise the basaltic peaks of Dartmoor. The next station is South Brent ; St. Patrick's

Church contains a rich parclose and screen; the line crosses the Avon, in winter a fierce torrent, and traverses Glazebrook viaduct, 72 feet high. In the Pool of Blood here, barbed fishing-spears with bronze heads have been found. Its next stoppage is at Kingsbridge road. Kingsbridge, 10 miles south, is built upon a hill-side and in the valley. A fair in July, as at Exeter and Chester, is an. nounced by a glove which is hung up at the market-house. At Dodbrooke was born Dr. Wolcot (Peter Pindar.) Eight miles distant is Modbury on the Plymouth-road. St. George's Church has a beautiful spire, 134 feet in height, built 1621. Here was the seat of the Champernownes, one of whom was the English Cornelia, mother of Sir Humphrey Gilbert and Sir Walter Raleigh. The former founded the trade to Newfoundland, where some Devonshire customs have been reproduced and preserved. St. George's contains effigies of two knights, a Prideaux and a Champernowne. At Ermington (11 mile), St. Peter's Church spire leans on one side. There is a brass of J. Strachleigh, 1583. Passing over a skew-bridge, of 100 feet span, through a deep cutting in the shale, and over Bittaford viaduct (62 feet high), the train enters Ivybridge station : the beauty of the village is the pride of South Devon. The next viaduct is 113 feet above the river Erme, famous for its salmon-peel and trout, but here brawling among blocks of granite; two more viaducts are traversed: like the rest they are of wood, and white-washed to guard against danger of fire by the fall of hot coals or sparks from the engine; they support a single line of rails. They are named Blatchford, 105 feet high, and Slade, 103 feet high. The Hemerdon incline of 1 in 40 conducts to Plympton St. Mary station. The views of Saltram Park and the Lara prepare the traveller for the beautiful scenery, which he will visit from the next station.

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Presents a spectacle and panorama far different from the country which we have just described. The natural scenery is of every conceivable variety, and of uncommon beauty; the triumphs of engineering skill in peace are shown at the Breakwater and Eddystone; the terrible defences of war, in the citadel and lines; and the preparations for the destruction of human life, stored in the naval armaments and military arsenals, give cause for the most conflicting emotions of the human heart. Von Raumer was greatly struck with the sight of a British naval port: he writes,—“The immense number of ships—these proud, bold, floating castles, make an impression of energy, power, activity, nay, of beauty, of wbich no conception can be formed without seeing them together.” Lord Chatham declared that he felt “a magnanimous fear" lest the royal navy should fall below the exigencies of the country; and Lord Bacon called it “ the outworks, walls, and impregnable forts of the realm," and the safe harbours its “redoubts.” “For beauty,” said Lord Coke, “ they are so many royal palaces; for strength (no part of the world having such iron and timber as England hath), so many moving castles and barbicans; and for safety, they are the most defensive walls of the realm.” Quin, the actor, however, found in the abundance of its John Doreys and grey mullets, the integral happiness of the inhabitants of Plymouth ; but he afterwards corrected himself on discovering, to his intense disgust and contempt, that they were ignorant of the mystery of melted butter. “Sweet country!” he exclaimed," there is nothing sweet in it but the vinegar !”

The history of Plymouth, unlike that of most other towns upon this coast, is of great interest. In the time of

Edward III. it could furnish 325 ships, and returned two members to Parliament. On May 20, 1339, eighteen piratical galleys burned seven ships in Plymouth harbour; but the townsmen, under Hugh, Earl of Devon, rose in arms, and while they lost 89 men, slew 500 of the enemy: these corsairs, however within two days destroyed all the vessels in the Sound, and some houses of the town. In 1355, the Black Prince was detained here during 40 days, before the glorious campaign which resulted in the victory of Poictiers; and here he landed May 5, 1377, with his royal prisoners, King John and the Dauphin of France. The French again attacked and plundered the town in 1370 ; in 1403 they burned 600 houses. In 1400, James Bourbon, Earl of March, who was bringing aid to Owen Glendower, being driven in by stress of weather, levied booty on the town, and fired the neighbouring villages; and in 1403, Sir W. de Chatel burned part of the town, but spared the rest on receipt of a large ransom. In 1405, Pedro Nino, afterwards Conde de Buelna, with 40 ships and three galleys, attacked Looe, and subsequently visited Falmouth, Plymouth, Portland, and Southampton, but was repulsed at every point. In 1470, the Earl of Warwick, the King-maker, landed here : on Oct. 2, 1501, Catharine of Arragon. In April 1506, Philip the Fair, of Castile, and Joanna, sailed from the Sound. On July 20, 1588, Lord Howard, Sir Francis Drake, and Sir John Hawkins, assembled here 120 sail, to which Plymouth contributed seven ships and one fly-boat; with this fleet they chased the Spaniards down channel.

- When the great fleet invincible ʼgainst England bore in vain

The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain,
It was about the lovely close of a warm summer day
There came a gallant merchant ship full sail to Plymouth bay ;
Her crew hath seen Castille's black fleet, beyond Aurigny's isle,
At earliest twilight on the waves lie heaving many a mile;
At sunrise she escaped their van by God's especial grace,
And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close in chase.
Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the wall;
The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe's lofty hall.”

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