262 WAYFARING NOTIONS 



way is to work the railways and make for more 

 or less distant towns or villages, according to 

 your ability, with intent to walk back. Give 

 me Dartmoor, if only the edge of it. Grand air 

 it is indeed, and to my taste at its best where 

 you get a smack of the sea as well as the moor's 

 tonic, lung-filling brand. During my stay of ten 

 minutes or so — thanks to the G.W.R.'s splendid 

 service I was able to have two clear days right 

 in Devonshire — I went cattle-ranching to Ran- 

 leigh, a place not exactly on the moor, but 

 charmingly moorish in climate, whose proprietor, 

 Mr R. C. Cocks, was justifiably proud of his 

 herds' condition. I like beef, though a stranger 

 to milk, and I know what looks good. Here 

 were the creatures living on the fat of the land 

 and plenty of it, with richest of rich pasture and 

 finest of old hay fit for a racing stable ; water laid 

 on for them in every field, also in the byres ; the 

 ways about the homestead and sheds all as clean 

 as Mrs Sarah Battle's typical hearth for whist or 

 a Dutch kitchen, no dust nor dirt, never a 

 cobweb, hygiene being preached about the estab- 

 lishment in object-lessons wherever you went, 

 and, what makes always for health in animal 

 life, all dealings with them regulated with clock- 

 work or military punctuality. Who drives fat 

 cattle should himself be fat. I quoted earlier, 

 did I not ? Here goes again, because I cannot 

 do better in reference to the hands about the 

 dairy farm. They have good pay — mechanics' 

 rather than hinds' — short hours, and are smart 

 and contented. How do I know they are con- 

 tented ? I found that out very easily. Birds — 

 partridge birds, as poor old Nicholas used to call 

 them — -are wonderfully plentiful on the estate. 



