VIEW FROM BABBICOMBE CLIFF. 31 



tance ; the panorama of blue hills rising and fading far 

 inland, the Tors and heights of Dartmoor and Exmoor ; 

 and the ever- changing sea, now laughing in its bright- 

 ness, now frowning and chafing in its wrath, filling so 

 vast an area as it does from this vantage height ; 

 these are the broader features of a scene which I will 

 pause a moment to depict in detail, before I descend to 

 the beach. 



I take my stand on the margin of the cliff that over- 

 looks Oddicombe, my feet upon the short soft turf, 

 marked with fairy rings, the Dog's Head just on my 

 left, a remarkable projection of grey lichened lime- 

 stone from the very cliff-edge, which, seen from the 

 opposite side, bears a curious resemblance to the head 

 of a lop-eared, cross-grained cur; but from my point 

 of view far more forcibly presents the appearance of the 

 face of a night- capped old man, grinning with pain ; 

 and a fine vertical, and in some places overhanging, 

 precipice just on my right, in whose horizontal strata 

 scores of noisy jackdaws find resting ledges. I see 

 them as they sit in conscious security only a few yards 

 below the margin, their sleek grey polls wagging, and 

 their black eyes now and then upturned, as others of 

 the cawing tribe fly in, and seek sitting-room. Some of 

 the strata are strangely distorted at the western end ; 

 and here a narrow and somewhat perilous track leads 



