237 



the weary foot for many consecutive miles. I have in a former num- 

 ber of the 'Phytologist' described an excursion to Craig Brithen, one 

 of the privileged localities alluded to ; and I now proceed to notice 

 another — Anstey's Cove, near Torquay, Devonshire. Authors of 

 floras should make particular mention of such spots when within 

 their assigned boundaries, noticing all the plants growing there, which 

 might be useful in several ways, besides giving the botanical tourist, 

 who may have but little time on his hands, an opportunity to make a 

 good vasculura with certainty, instead of that chance wandering which 

 often only dissipates a dies non. 



To any visitor of South Devon, then, I recommend a day at An- 

 stey's Cove and Babbicombe Rocks, only about two miles east of 

 Torquay, along the coast, broken as it is into little romantic coves, 

 with beaches of glistening white pebbles. My visitation was made in 

 the middle of June, in the present year, probably as good a time as 

 any, most of the plants I shall mention being then in full flower or 

 getting into the flowering state. 



The rocks in the vicinity of Torquay are of the massive limestone 

 belonging to what geologists call the Devoniam system, and are seen 

 eastward and westward in connexion with the new red sandstone and 

 conglomerates. At Babbicombe the limestone is brought in contact 

 with the conglomerate, and the contrast of the deep red of the sand- 

 stone cliffs with the hoary elder rocks and the glittering white shore, 

 over which the green sea ripples in its transparency, is very remarkable. 



Anstey's Cove, which I am about to describe, is one of those deli- 

 cious spots ever inviting to the imagination of the lover of secluded 

 nature, and the hopes of the wandering herbalist ; even the poet might 

 gain some addition to his train of thoughts from the contemplation of 

 its peculiar beauties. 



Entering from the eastern side, over the down that extends to the 

 margin of the cliff" from the Torquay road, a wide portal appears in 

 the limestone rock, a sublime indicator of the exciting scene. On 

 either hand lofty perpendicular precipices rise upwards, almost terri- 

 fying to the sight; but Nature has robed the barren rock with beauty, 

 and in summer the stainless flowers of the white rock-rose {Helian- 

 themum polifolium) charm the eye of the explorer with their lustre 

 and delicacy, drooping on all sides, but not descending far into the 

 glen. From this portal a slippery staircase of rough steps winds to 

 the cove below, which is hemmed in by the sea on one side and pre- 

 cipitous rocks on the other, while the uneven ground is scattered over 

 as if with the ruins of a Cyclopean city, or some Stonehenge that an 



