FERNY RAMBLES IN SOUTH DEVON 45 
town nestling down a little below us, the houses 
just seen between the leafy interstices of the 
arching trees which overhang the road we have 
already passed. High up in these same trees the 
blue sky peeps at us through an opening, the 
blue being however momentarily obscured by the 
steam which is puffed up from the station yard. 
Such little incidents are somewhat trivial, but 
the tourist knows how much life they some- 
times add to a scene. They in fact make up 
much of the difference between the picture and the 
reality. A town without motion or sign of human 
existence would be dull and uninteresting to look 
upon, however picturesque it might otherwise be ; 
and trees and fields and streams without moving 
life, however rich in colouring and grand in aspect, 
would lose more than half their charms. But we 
must not digress. 
About a mile from the town our road com- 
mences to skirt one side of the Dartington Wood 
on the right. The sun is shining brightly, but at 
this spot arching trees on each side of us envelop 
the path in dark shadows. A little distance 
