September 16, 1869. ] 



JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AI^D COTTAGE GARDENER. 



229 



De Tracy who aided in mardericg Becket is doomed for ever 

 to make wisps of unadhesive sand. Since that murder they 

 say hereabouts 



" All the Tracevs 

 Have the wind in their faces." 



Shall I mention any more of these wild traditions ? Yes, one 

 more, that of Chambercombe. This genuine example of a 

 North Devon Combe is about two miles from Ilfracombe, about 

 one mile from Bicklescombe, and the same distance from 

 Warmscombe ! Its steep sides are clothed with Oaks ; along 

 its bottom rapidly runs a stream ; Ferns, as well as Geranium 

 phseom, and EroJium moschatum, and Aquilegia vulgaris 

 abound ; and not far off— at Hele, is found the wild Balm. 

 Long have the Champemownes been connected with this por- 

 tion of Devon ; but the earliest notice of their connection is 

 especially applicable to my notes, for in the eighteenth year 

 of the third Edward's reign, more than five centuries since, 

 " William Champernoun " had wrongfully deprived James de 

 Audeley of the right 

 of presentation to the 

 church of " Ilfrid- 

 oombe," as it was 

 then spelt. Champer- 

 nonscombe, as it was 

 once called from be- 

 longingto that family, 

 was estreated to the 

 crown ; yet a member 

 of the family con- 

 tinued its tenant, and 

 by his ability as a far- 

 mer acctunulated mo- 

 ney. His only child, a 

 daughter, was united 

 to a wealthy foreigner, 

 and her father after 

 the lapse of some 

 years began to see a 

 prospect of repurchas- 

 ing the forfeited es- 

 tate. At this juncture, 

 during the night.when 

 one of those fearful 

 storms which visit our 

 western coasts was 

 raging, a vessel bound 

 for Bristol was driven 

 on the rocks nearest to 

 Champernonscombe. 

 The tenant saved a 

 lady from the wreck, 

 and carried her home. 

 About her person and 

 fastened round her 

 waist were jewels of 

 great value and a large 

 Bum of money. To all 

 inquirers he said he 

 knew of no survivor 

 of the wreck. He appropriated her property to his own 

 use. and was thus enabled to complete the purchase of the 

 estate. The lady had not survived the injuries she had re- 

 ceived ; and to conceal the body he boarded up the window, 

 and built up with cob the doorway of the small room in which 

 her body was lying. Ere long information reached him. show- 

 ing that it was his own widowed daughter who had thus 

 perished on her voyage back to her old home. Her father 

 could now no longer endure to dwell on the estate he had so 

 long coveted and by intended fraud had purchased. He let the 

 whole, stipulating that no one should reside in the house, and 

 this vacancy he provided should be continued for several gene- 

 rations. At length it passed into other hands ; and it being 

 observed that there were five windows but only four chambers, 

 an opening was broken into the closed room. In it were a bed 

 druped and a lady's dresses, all of the style prevalent during 

 the days of the last of the Stuarts, and "in the bed was the 

 skeleton of a woman. The confessional narrative was found 

 among the papers of her father. The house, of which I send 

 you a sketch, is at the end of a Combe which I visited oftener 

 than others in search of Ferns. 



North Devon is truly " The Land of Ferns," and deserves 

 this title, not only because of their there abotrnding, but because 



you continually fall in with something or some one demon- 

 strating their prevalence and their culture. By the [side of 

 every country path you observe fragments of fronds, j telling 

 that collectors have passed that way. In the front of cottage 

 ! doors, far away from a town, you see boards bearing inscrip- 

 tions such as this — " Ferns sold here by John Lewis." In the 

 towns there are professed Fern-growers and Fern-propagators. 

 There are two such in Ilfracombe, named Moule and Didds. 

 They have followed the employment for years, and have ferne- 

 ries — terraces cut on the shady side of a rock, in which they 

 grow not only the species but many of their chief varieties. 

 j They have small greenhouses, and there in pans I saw thou- 

 ' sands of seedlings raised for sale and to test whether the varie- 

 ties are permanent. I have always upheld local naturalists' 

 clubs, because I know from personal experience the protecting 

 influence of those associations. The man who has such a 

 mental employment and congenial companions for his leisure 

 hours, has a sound and evergreen fence against evil. Such a club 



is that of Todmorden 

 in Lancashire, and no 

 belter evidence of its 

 good infiuence need be 

 quoted than that its 

 secretary and some of 

 its members had tra- 

 velled into North De- 

 von, and enlisted Sir. 

 Dadds as their guide 

 in search of Ferns. 

 The very donkey- 

 drivers are learned in 

 Ferns, and I especially 

 recommend one of 

 them, Mrs. Eowe, to 

 those of your readers 

 who are lovers of 

 Ferns and whovisitll- 

 fracombe. She knows 

 where the species 

 are to be found, and 

 I tried in vain to 

 puzzle her by show- 

 ing her mutilated 

 fronds. The Maiden- 

 hair, she says, is ob- 

 tained now not only 

 from 'U'hite Pebble 

 Bay, but from a bay 

 just beyond Helesbo- 

 rough and from Luudy 

 Island. The history 

 of this worthy Fem- 

 and-donkey woman is 

 not without interest, 

 and points a moral. 

 She was a lady's ser- 

 vant, took to herself 

 a husband, and when 

 the loss of an arm 

 disabled him from pursuing his usual occupation, they, noway 

 daunted, became the owners of donkeys and donkey-chairs, 

 and guides to the Fern-seekers. 



Here, too, resides the authoress of that pleasant little book 

 " Ferny Combes.'' None but a lover of the wUd and the beau- 

 tiful could have written its eight introductory chapters. She 

 is the wife of the Rev. Mr. Chanter, rector of Ilfracombe, and 

 there is a biography in this dedication of her volume — " To 

 the Reverend Charles Eingsley and Mrs. Eingsley, this little 

 book is affectionately dedicated by their daughter, as a small 

 token of the gratitude due to them for awakening and fostering 

 in their children a love of nature and beauty." May she and 

 her husband attain the age and be as adhesive as his ancestor, 

 whose memorial in the churchyard records that he lived for 

 ninety-three years, during seventy of which he was perpetual 

 curate of Hartland. 



Every one who is not blind must have noticed here and else- 

 where how the love of plants and their culture clings to man, 

 woman, and child ; even when Uving in an attic in the closest 

 alley of a town they will have a " Geranium " or a Fuchsia in 

 a pickle-jar or a dilapidated teapot. I once saw a permanent 

 garden on a canal barge. Schoolboys have thek gardens, 

 and even old college professors, like Dr. Jowitt, will have a 



