2 96 THE EXETER ROAD 



been altered and half of the building partitioned off as 

 a separate house, the interior remains very much the 

 same as it was then, and the orisfinal rough, stone- 

 flagged passages, dark panelling, and deep-embrasured 

 windows add a qonvincing touch to the story of the 

 King's flight through England with a price on his head. 



For the rest, Charmouth, which stands where the 

 tiny river Char empties itself into the sea, consists of 

 one long street of mutually antagonistic houses, of all 

 shapes, sizes, and materials, and is the very exemplar 

 of a fishinof villao:e turned into an inchoate seaside 

 resort. But a sunny, sheltered, and pleasing spot. 



On leaving Charmouth, the road begins to ascend 

 asfain, and leaves Dorsetshire for Devon throuoh a 

 tunnel cut in the hillside, called the ' New Passage,' 

 coming in four miles to ' Hunter's Lodge Inn,' pictur- 

 esquely set amid a forest of pine trees. From this 

 point it is two and a half miles on to Axminster, a 

 town which still gives a name to a particular make of 

 carpets, although since 1835 the local factories have 

 been closed and the industry transferred to Wilton, 

 in AViltshire. It was in 1755 that the industry was 

 started here. 



There is one fine old coaching inn, the ' George,' 

 at Axminster, with huo-e ramblino- stables and inter- 

 minable corridors, in which one ought to meet the 

 ghosts of departed travellers on the Exeter Koad. 

 But they are shy. There should, in fact, be many 

 ghosts in this old town of many memories ; and so 

 there are, to that clairvoyant optic, the ' mind's eye.' 

 But they refuse to materialise to the physical organ, 

 and it is only to a vivid imagination that the streets 



