. Highways and byways in Devon and Cornwall. nown in a tree-clad country. But if trees one must have, tinyare not so far to seek, for every mile brings up a richer landscape,till at last, when the road begins to drop towards the sea, theoutlook is across a prospect which in varied beauty lias surelyfew equals in this country. The ground dips rapidly, andbeyond the valley rise the park enclosures of Clovelly Court,dotted over with red cattle grazing peacefully in the back a dark hill rises, lying sombre under a cloudshadow, while the green and red fields higher on the slopecatch the
. Highways and byways in Devon and Cornwall. nown in a tree-clad country. But if trees one must have, tinyare not so far to seek, for every mile brings up a richer landscape,till at last, when the road begins to drop towards the sea, theoutlook is across a prospect which in varied beauty lias surelyfew equals in this country. The ground dips rapidly, andbeyond the valley rise the park enclosures of Clovelly Court,dotted over with red cattle grazing peacefully in the back a dark hill rises, lying sombre under a cloudshadow, while the green and red fields higher on the slopecatch the sun, and just beyond them the sea stretches far andwide, all tinted with the palest turquoise, with here and there adarker patch upon it. Lundy lies like a flat table in the dis-tance Suddenly the sun shines out and the bay turns a deeperblue. The path plunges downwards, tall trees rise around it 364 CLOVELLY CHAI\ through which one catches glimpses of sea and cliff and a deepvalley below, set in a frame of tender green and yellow ^m^ mvfy The Gateway, Clovelly. A rich scent of flowers is in the air, and as yet there is no tasteof the sea, but all around is green shade, and an azure mist ofbluebells. Then suddenly the trees break away a little, and XX CLOVELLY one sees far below a reach of brown water breaking on .1shingly shore, and the roots and chimneys of a little town. Buithe tires march with one up to the first houses of the town, andthe blackbirds and thrushes whistle in the silent wood justabove the street What is like Clovelly, and with what .similitude shall I makeclear the aspect of the most exquisite town in England?There is none. One is the richer in experience for havingseen Clovelly; elsewhere there is nothing like it. I sit onthe balcony of the New Inn, a pleasant hostelry with old bow-windows. I have but this moment left the- woods, and theirgreen shade is close to my right hand. Below me lie- ,1 si 1 in-more exquisite than could have been devised by
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