Bickleigh is, at least, nine miles from Tavistock; but we proposed first to visit Shaugh Bridge: so two of our charioteers determined to cut across the country, and to find a shorter way over Roborough Down. The rest went round by the usual road, which turns off beyond Jump. Notwithstanding the unevenness of the road, I enjoyed the drive over the turf exceedingly.

An open carriage gave us full liberty to admire the prospects, and my companion kindly indulged my love of seeing everything, by driving here, there, and everywhere, without much regard to the difficulties of the way. Sometimes a level bit of ground enabled us to get on smoothly, but generally there were sufficient obstacles to be overcome; we drove twice through the Plymouth leat; and the very best road was a narrow cart track full of deep ruts. A steady horse, and a tight rein, were quite in requisition: and however much we were pleased with the success of our experiment, I would advise no traveller to undertake the same route, unless he should happen to be on foot, or on horseback.

Down, and
Here some

We proceeded in a direction across the descended a steep hill towards the bridge. of the party were in anxious expectation of our arrival. A wagon-load of gay people from Plymouth assisted in giving animation to the scene. The confluence of two rivers, the Mew and the Cad, takes place just by Shaugh Bridge; they proceed thence under the name of the Plym. The promontory of land rising between these winding streams is to be gained only by stepping stones, which are crossed with the greatest ease when the water is low.

I was soon landed on the opposite side, and seated in a quiet nook to attempt a sketch of the bridge; but I found this to be the least interesting object in the surrounding scene. The twisted trunks of the fine old trees, which fling their branches across the water; and

the bold form of the granite rocks, which present their rough sides to the brawling rivers, pleased me far more than this tame specimen of hewn masonry; and I left my sketch unfinished, to wander at will amongst the beauties around. Above arose the broad outline of Dewerstone, from whose summit the clouds had just rolled away. Broken ridges of stones presented tempting opportunities of climbing the eminence; at the foot of the hill were groups of young saplings, towering above the decrepid figures of their parent oaks. The tall grass was still damp to the feet, and time would not allow my proceeding far; but I had already traversed the same ground, and may here give the result of my observations on a former excursion. Dewerstone rock may be ascended by a winding path on the western side from the base. We chose a shorter mode of gaining the summit, and clambered up by the jutting stones in a strait direction. By this means we gained more time to enjoy the extensive prospect around. The eye wandered over hill and dale, diversified by corn fields and pasture land, woods and streams, scattered cottages, and clustering villages with church towers rising from the midst, until it rested on the expanse of the ocean rolling its glittering waves into the Plymouth Sound. By the aid of a telescope we could discern the vessels as they rode at anchor in their secure haven. The towns of Plymouth and Devonport also appeared, like small spots in the broad map spread before us. The view is really magnificent, but we were still more pleased with a river scene which awaited us below. Descending the declivity on the eastern side, we came suddenly upon some rocks which rise almost perpendicularly from the banks beneath. A general exclamation of surprise and delight broke forth as we gazed on the noble defile, through which the river pours its waters with even impetuous violence. The valley on a smaller scale resembles Tavy Cleaves,

but the rocks bear a different character, being here and there clothed with tall grass and brushwood. If we might note the distinction we should say, that the view from the heights above Tavy Cleaves is wilder, but that from Dewerstone more beautiful. No visitor to Shaugh should neglect this lovely valley, which is about a mile above the bridge, if the path be followed through the woods by the stream.

The companions of my second excursion to this favored spot were anxious to proceed on towards Bickleigh vale, partly because it was the place of rendezvous, and partly (or mainly) because we were to take our dinner there. So we lost no time in re-ascending our vehicles, and preparing once more to traverse the rugged roads; the cart with a bountiful supply of provisions in front, and our hungry selves following close behind. Many a lingering look was cast at the scenes we left, but we paused only once, wheeling round on the side of a steep hill to gaze on the old manor house of Ley, (formally belonging to the family of Slanning,) which appeared by the river, rising above the trees. The rest of the way was merrily pursued through narrow lanes, above which the woodbine and hazel formed a continued bower, while the wild rose lent its fragrance as we passed.

Our generous caterer had prepared a sumptuous feast by the time we were all assembled; it was served on the ground, in primitive fashion, beneath a spreading oak near the entrance of the vale. The carriages were arranged in the back ground; their cushions raised upon some hay formed handsome seats. Our steeds allowed to range at pleasure, pastured on the green sward near. How much delight we find in recalling the happy scenes, and imagining the groups which hav shared in our various pleasures! Reason as we may, there is no amusement in a town life to be compared to these simple enjoyments.