The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1897-08-14


Especial Correspondence of the PREss.]
Clovelly, Devon County, July 16, 1897
With London as our centre our travels
have taken us to all four points of the
compass and we unhestitatingly declare
that "West is BEST AS little children
often hoard their choicest morsel so we
have saved our trip to Devon till the last.
No ''dove let loose in Eastern skies"
e'er took homeward flight more swiftly
than "we' after reaching London left
our party(who were to spend the next
few days in seeing what we had already
enjoyed) few to Cooks, dropped our bills,
folded our pinions and took the train for
Minehead. The prospect of a six hours
continuous ride in the railway carriage,
made US look anxiously for an accommo-
dating guard, and rejoice when we found
him, and never did small investment
yield such gratifying returns. 81 can
manage it, I think madam, but you can
help us by pulling down the shades as we
go into the stations" Our conscience
would have troubled US if there had been
crowd, but as there were ample accom-
modations we did enjoy having the COM
partment to ourselves. There was also
novel excitement in peering through
crack in the curtain, as we entered each
new place, and watching each man,
woman and child come directly toward
us, and try the locked door, while we
waited in breathless suspense until the
guard came up, and politely urged them
farther on. Bath and Bristol seemed most
attractive but W. was absorbed in con-
templating new variety of sheep, of a
lovely reddish brown hue, which here made
their appearance for the first time. Draw
ing E. attention to them she said,
"that's worth remembering, Devon sheep
are brown" and out came the notebook,
and an item was written which after
ward afforded E. much amusement;
when the driver of our coach, in giving
us full information about the country
and characteristics, incidentally re-
marked: "How very brown sheep get ly-
in the soil.' "That's worth remember
ing' E. began to quote mischievously,
when an appealing maternal glance re-
strained her. Reaching Minehead, not
only did we climb the ladder, but stepped
over intervening seats, until we reached
the topmost pinnacle of the bright yellow
coach. Loud and long rang the horn of
the guard, crack! went the whip of the
driver, and beaming at each other, the
passengers, and the scenery, we were off
for the hills, dales, and great moors of
Devon. Those steep ascents where we
rose ever higher and higher, seemed like
immense chess boards, each square
divided from it's neighbor by hawthorne
or holly hedges. The many 'tcombes''
delighted US, deep clefts or.gorges densely
wooded and all crowded by the glorious
moors, over which swept the freshest,
said the driver, indicating with his whip
spot upon the nloors, "last year hunt
er lost his horse from under him; while
following the hounds he felt the ground
suddenly give way,.Ethe struggling ami
NAL threw. him. clean over his head, and
when the man regained. his footing, the
poor beast had been completely swal-
lowed in the bog, not trace of him was
found" ''Does that often happen?" we
asked looking fearfully about; "Oh, not
so very, twas the answer but some horses
will not go near the bog, they're knowing
ones and scent the danger. I can take
you to bog, after rain, where you can
see and feel the ground shake under
you'', he added inquiringly after mo-
ments pause, but we eagerly declined
with thanks, assuring him fervently that
we were perfectly satisfied to accept his
word, without proving it forr ourselves.
When we had reached the highest moor
and paused to give the painting horses a
short rest, the descent began that brought
GRIP TTE1r