II 
Days In DEVONSHIRE 
“Oh, you beautiful land, 
Deep-bosomed with beeches, and bright 
With the flowery largesse of May.” 
AtrreD Noyes. 
Devonshire lanes on a day in April or 
May, you realize you are on holiday. 
You may choose the superior car, but 
for Devonshire by this mode of locomotion you 
get there too quickly. The old pony in the 
jingle has long made up his mind on the speed 
limit. 
In Cairo I came upon the advertisement of a 
Devonshire rural hotel in a home journal which 
spoke of trout fishing. It included “health and 
economy.” It promised “a land of streams.” 
On the eve of home-coming it was just the 
influence to colour one’s dreams. Devon lanes in 
spring, with carpets of primroses and harebells by 
the wayside! The rivers in the district had 
fascinating names—Thrush, Wolf, Lid, Carey, 
Tamar. 
As soon as might be, headquarters were secured 
D RIVING in a jingle (pony trap) through 
