i 4 4 
THE FERN WORLD 
but almost immediately it again bursts on the view, seen 
through the leafy openings in the trees on the steep bank on 
our right. In a minute or two more we get a peep by the 
beach of two or three of the white houses of Clovelly, and we 
catch sight momentarily of the foreshore of its harbour. 
Then as our road descends, we lose sight of the little place. 
But it is only for a moment, for anon we come upon an 
opening upon our right, where an iron chair invitingly 
placed tempts iis to be seated, and to look on the pretty 
little town. Charming indeed is the scene which now opens 
before us. 
Down away below us on our left nestles a wooded glen, its 
sides densely clothed with a dark green mantle of trees. At 
the foot of this glen two bright green meadows lie, whose 
lighter verdure charmingly contrasts with the darker shade of 
the trees above them. Away in front is the tiny harbour of 
Clovelly, backed by its sloping beach, both calmly resting at 
the foot of the wooded hill, topped by a bare cliff, which rises 
high over it. Beyond all, the blue sea, with Bundy Island 
again in sight. 
Turning from this spot, our road for a little distance is 
free from the shadow of overarching trees, and there is 
nothing to shelter us from the fiery glare of the July sun, 
save that the soft sea-breeze which gently fans us imparts 
a delicious coolness. Presently, however, our path winding 
round and descending, takes us by a. rude stone bridge to 
the opposite side of the wooded glen we have just described. 
Here are we indeed in a veritable paradise of Fern-land. 
Compelled to pause for a moment by the delightful sense of 
delicious coolness which comes over us, we take our stand 
upon the bridge, lean over its rude parapet and look down, 
attracted by the music of the flowing stream beneath, at 
the wealth of ivy clothing its arches — the dark green leaves 
of the delightful climber being relieved here and there by 
