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THE VICARAGE. 



\Vhere ends the chancel in a vaulted space, 



Sleep the departed Vicars of the place ; 



Of most, all mention, memory, thought, are past 



But take a slight memorial of the last. 



CRABBE. 



FEW counties in England have produced more 

 celebrated men, or more beautiful women, than 

 that of Devonshire. It is, also, distinguished for 

 the hospitality of its inhabitants, for their kindness 

 of heart and unaffected goodwill to those strangers 

 who come amongst them, as well as for the charms 

 of its rural scenery. Who that has seen the pretty 

 cottages, with their little gardens and orchards, 

 the shady lanes with their steep banks covered 

 with flowers, the meandering rivers and brooks, 

 the rich vallies, and the bold and commanding 

 scenery, will ever forget them. In wandering over 

 the county, scarcely a spot is to be met with which 

 will not make the lover of what is picturesque, 

 beautiful, or grand, to pause, in order to gaze 

 upon it. And then the sleek red cattle, feeding in 

 the luxuriant meadows, the noble trees nourished 

 by the rich soil of the country, and adorned with 



