TEENY COMBES. 
25 
in muslin, others again diving into ‘'rock pools^’ 
after unfortunate anemones, which, when touched, 
spouted out the water they had been leisurely im- 
bibing, and drew in their pretty tentacles as rude 
hands detached them from their beloved rocks to be 
deposited in tumblers, there to be examined, tor- 
mented, and finally cast out lifeless and decayed. 
But let us away to more lonely scenes over the 
Tors, from whence the sea looks like some vast 
continental plain, and the ships like towns dotted 
here and there over its surface ; across the lovely 
valley of Lee, along by pebbly Eockham, rich in 
many coloured stones, till we come to the Morte, 
or “Stone of Death,” whose jagged sharks’ teeth 
peep from the foaming sea ready to fasten on 
any luckless vessel that may venture within the 
magic circle. 
Now passing the shelly cove of Barracane, we 
reach the magnificent sands of Woolacombe, full 
two miles long, a pleasant place for a gallop in 
bright smooth weather, but a sad, sad spot, when 
winter gales strew the strand with the remains of 
wrecked vessels and the mangled bodies of luckless 
sailors. At the further end of the sands is the 
black headland of Baggy, jutting far into the sea, 
the abode of countless wild-fowl, into whose nests 
we look as we wind along the giddy height above. 
