. The North Devon coast. days as a banker, and the Mar-chioness of Bute ; and the stream of visitors grewso rapidly that by 1807 h^ was able to open theoriginal Valley of Rocks hotel, up at adjoining Castle hotel soon followed. About the time when Lynmouth and Lyntonwere thus first rising into favour, the poet Southeycame this way, and wrote a description that hasever since been most abundantly quoted. Butit is impossible not to quote it again, even thoughthe comparison with places in Portugal is uncalledfor, absurd, and entirely beside the mark. Thus, Southey : My walk to Ilfracomb
. The North Devon coast. days as a banker, and the Mar-chioness of Bute ; and the stream of visitors grewso rapidly that by 1807 h^ was able to open theoriginal Valley of Rocks hotel, up at adjoining Castle hotel soon followed. About the time when Lynmouth and Lyntonwere thus first rising into favour, the poet Southeycame this way, and wrote a description that hasever since been most abundantly quoted. Butit is impossible not to quote it again, even thoughthe comparison with places in Portugal is uncalledfor, absurd, and entirely beside the mark. Thus, Southey : My walk to Ilfracombe led methrough Lynmouth, the finest spot, except Cintraand Arrabida, which I have ever seen. Two riversjoin at Lynmouth ; each of these flows down acombe, rolling over huge stones, like a long water-fall. Immediately at their junction they enterthe sea, and the rivers and the sea make but oneuproar. Of these combes, tlie one is richlywooded, the other runs between two high, bare,stony hills, wooded at the base. From the. LYNMOUTH 13 Summerhouse Hill between the two is a prospectmost magnificent—on either hand combes andthe river ; before, the beautiful little village, which,I am assured by one who is familiar with Switzer-land, resembles a Swiss village. And so with a host of others, to whom the hills beetle, the rocks * frown savagely, the sea roars like a devouring monster. And all thewhile, you know, they dont do anything of thekind. Instead, the hills slant away beautifullyup skyward, the rocks, draped with ivy and mossand studded with ferns, look benignant, and thesea and the Lyn together still the senses with theircombined drowsy murmur, as you sit lookingalternately down upon the harbour or up at thewooded heights from that finest of vantage points,the * Tors terrace, after dinner, when the lightsin the village and those of the hillside villastwinkle in the twilight, like jewels. The poetryof the scene appeals to all, except perhaps MissMarie Corelli, who, in the Migh
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectdevonen, bookyear1908
