Wild Exmoor 75 



mists of night draw on apace, and we have 

 yet to drive some half-dozen stiff miles before 

 reaching that snug inn at Simonsbath, the 

 * William Rufus.' The snow still lies thick 

 here and there along the roadside, in huge 

 discoloured patches, grimly suggestive of the 

 severity of the past winter. By and by a 

 sudden turn of the road brings us in view 

 of the 'Silver Barle.' At this turn, by the 

 way, there is a grim precipice, with neither 

 wall nor protection of any kind. To be 

 hurled down that gully would seem certain 

 death ; and yet our driver tells how on a dark 

 night, some years ago, a carriage and pair did 

 actually go over, and with no graver casualty 

 to the occupants than a broken collar-bone. 

 The trap, however, was dashed to pieces, 

 and it was a difficult business to extract the 

 terrified horses. 



The sound and sight of devious Barle send 

 a thrill of joy through us, for we have come 

 to fish in this stream, which abounds in 

 trout, more, perhaps, than any of the other 

 moorland streams ; though they run very 



