INTRODUCTION TO FERNLAND 
III 
the wildest — took us on to the summit of a steep hill clothed 
with gorse and Bracken. Below us, on the left, lay Porlock, 
calmly nestling down in a cultivated hollow hy the sea, 
fronted by a foreland of green meadows which half girdled 
the shingly beach. 
Following the road from Porlock, a short distance along 
by way of the weir, a turning to the left leads inland for a 
short distance, but soon again bends round towards the sea ; 
and following it you come upon a narrow path which skirts 
a ridge of wooded bluffs. A wooded hill rises above you on 
the left, and on the right the sea is seen through a fringe of 
green shrubs. Presently its blue expanse opens out below, 
whilst straight in front is a perspective of wooded bluff's 
stretching gently out seawards. Then the path descends 
by a sudden dip into the delightful little combe of 
Culbone. 
Wandering over the hills from Culbone, on our way to 
Glenthorne, we got entangled in the maze of Exmoor, but 
presently we struck upon the head of the glen, at the mouth 
of which lies Glenthorne. Down this glen, in a deep bed 
almost entirely concealed by gracefully waving Fern fronds 
and overhanging shrubs, flows a tiny stream, making its 
way with a pleasant hissing sound to the sea. We followed 
the course of this stream for perhaps a quarter of a mile, and 
then just over the trees we got a first glimpse of Glenthorne. 
Proudly at this spot, where the glen divides Somerset from 
Devon, does the last-named county assert her scenic pre- 
eminence. The sun, at the close of a glorious July day, was 
just setting behind a great bank of fleecy, silvery ‘clouds, as 
we reached Glenthorne. On our left, across the Fern-fringed 
bank of the stream which ran down the combe, rose a hill 
densely clothed with waving Bracken. On our right another 
hill, steeply sloping, and sparsely but picturesquely covered 
with clumps of gorse and Brake. Away below, at the combe 
