166 WILDERSMOUTH. 



with a proper narae, the Wilder, discharges itself here 

 after a long brawling course through the upper part 

 of the town, and imparts to the cove itself an 

 appellation, familiar to the ear of every one who 

 has visited Ilfracombe, — Wildersmouth. Before the 

 Tunnels were pierced through the Runnacleaves, now 

 affording access to the bathing pools at Crewkhorne, 

 this cove was the only bathing place available, — in- 

 deed the only access to the shore. And still it is a 

 favourite lounge, especially when the tide is out. 

 There are great masses of rock, sloping upward from 

 the land-side, but projecting in a sharp angle over the 

 sea, scattered everywhere about the cove, and up these 

 inclined planes visitors climb, ladies as well as gen- 

 tlemen, and sit or lie at length by the hour together, 

 in the pleasant sun, tempered by the breeze of sum- 

 mer. Some may be seen collecting from the rocks 

 the adhering limpets, or the tiny periwinkles of va- 

 rious hues, — white, green, orange, — that lie by scores 

 in the fissures, or gazing with curious eyes on the 

 glossy purple Anemones, that crowd the rocks between 

 tide-marks. And later in the season, the heaps of 

 sea-weeds washed ashore by autumnal gales afford an 

 endless subject of interest to collectors. 



The sunny cove seems the very abode of mirth and 

 recreation ; and yet it has been the scene of dire 

 disaster and heart-breaking sorrow. 



Some years ago a party of nine ladies went down 

 to the rocks at Wildersmouth, at the part below the 

 Capstone, which is rather secluded by means of the 

 more than usually large masses of rock that rise 

 there. One of the ladies was the aunt of another, the 



