BRIDPORT 291 



difficult to say what character it possesses, for its 

 featureless High Street is redeemed only from tedious- 

 ness by the belfry of the Town Hall which, witli the 

 fine westward view, includino- the conical heio-ht of 

 Colmer's Hill and the high table-land of Eype to the 

 left, serves to compose the whole into something 

 remotelv resemblinsj an effect. 



Bridport is a tow^n which would very much like to 

 be on the sea, but is, as a matter of fact, situated 

 rather over a mile from it. Just where the little river 

 Bredy runs out and the sea comes banging furiously 

 in, is a forlorn concourse of houses sheltering abjectly 

 one behind the other, called variously Bridport 

 Harbour and West Bay. This is the real port, but 

 it matters little, or nothing at all, by wdiat name you 

 call the place ; it remains more like a Port Desolation. 



Bridport almost distinguished itself in 1651 by 

 the fugitive Charles the Second having been nearly 

 captured at the ' George Inn ' by the Harbour, an ostler 

 recognising his face, which, it must be conceded, was 

 one that once seen could scarce have been mistaken 

 when again met with. Charles was then trying to 

 reach the coast after the disastrous battle of Worcester, 

 and it is quite certain that if Cromwell's troopers had 

 laid their hands on him, there would never have been 

 any Charles the Second in English history. 



The tragical comedy of the Stuarts throws a 

 g-lamour over the Exeter Road to its verv end. The 

 fugitive Charles, fleeing before the inquisitive stare 

 of the ostler, is a striking picture ; and so, thirty-four 

 years later, is the coming of his partly acknowledged 

 son, the Duke of Monmouth, to upset James the 



