A PARADISE OF FERNS. 31 



Our lane still winds onwards and upwards, now 

 widening as if to afford a prospect of the rich scenery 

 lying below us, now sinking between high hedges, 

 which get higher and higher as the steep path 

 contends with the steeper hill. At length we reach 

 the brow of the acclivity, and turning round, we 

 can command one of the finest prospects in all 

 England. Away straight below us lie clustering 

 houses, beautifully embowered in orchards and 

 fruit-gardens, with the church spire rising calmly up 

 above the whole. On the right of the town, still 

 away below us, the eye delightedly rests on a wide 

 extent of undulating meadows and tree-covered 

 uplands. Beyond, the wooded uplands rise steeper 

 and steeper, until in the dim horizon a line of lofty 

 hills, looming grandly up against the sky, bounds 

 the view. Far away in the same direction, the 

 sunlight is reflected from the silvery stream of the 

 Dart, where, flowing at the feet of two wooded hills, 

 it brightly contrasts with the dark lines of trees. 



To the left of the town, in the dim distance, are 

 seen the wild moorlands stretching away far over 

 the country. There the lovely Dart takes its rise, 



