BABBICOMBE. 233 



the same formation that stretches away to the north- 

 ward; its ruddy cliffs and bold headlands Wat- 

 combe, the Ness at the mouth of the Teign, the per- 

 forated rocks and needles near Dawlish gradually 

 fading into blue as the coast-line trends away to the 

 eastward, and is lost to the aching gaze somewhere 

 about the boundary of the county. 



It is a lovely scene ; and still more lovely is that 

 which meets the eye as we resume our walk and look 

 down upon Babbicombe beach, where fishermen are 

 overhauling their boats, already high and dry, and 

 the brown nets are spread out on the sunny shingle ; 

 and where the whole slope is clothed with shrubberies 

 and hanging woods, with villas and ornate cottages 

 peeping from the embosoming trees, here and there, 

 down to the very water's edge. 



And now it is optional with us, whether to pursue 

 our way along the seaward edge of the lofty Babbi- 

 combe Downs, or by the high road, which for nearly a 

 mile is shut out from the sea. We choose the latter, 

 as the more pleasing, and giving us more variety. It 

 leads us through the homely village of Babbicombe, 

 and then through the palatial domain of the Bishop 

 of Exeter, under the shadow of overarching elms ; now 

 between hedgerows and banks bright with spring 

 flowers, now through deep scarps of the slaty rock, 

 dripping and ferny, and crossed with rustic bridges. 



A burst of the sea again ! Yonder it lies, sleeping 

 under the morning sun. Troubled are its slumbers 

 too : last night's easterly breeze has given it the night- 



