34 
FEENT COMBES. 
scarcely worth the trouble and fatigue necessary to 
reach it; fine sweeps of coast are to be seen on 
either hand, but there is nothing peculiarly attrac- 
tive in the Point itself. 
Our quarters for the night must be at Hartland 
town ; and we may make our way thither from the 
Point by a longer but far prettier road than the 
ordinary one. Keeping near the clifis, we come to 
an old paved road, where the wild Daphne grows ; 
crossing two narrow glens with dancing rivulets 
overshadowed by the stately Osmunda, passing two 
or three old houses, now converted into farms, every 
now and then getting peeps of rugged rocks and 
foamy billows, we reach at last, at Black Pool 
Mill, the broad Abbey Valley, where a good-sized 
stream well stocked with trout winds through the 
meadows. The magnificent tower of the parish 
church rises above the woods, and the grassy war- 
ren slopes upwards from the stream. 
Pollowing the valley, we pass the Abbey (a com- 
paratively modern building on the site of the old), 
under stately trees, by rich meadows, where the 
hay smells sweetly up the “Vale” for a couple of 
miles, till we come to the town. 
Kow let us start for the more unknown part of 
Hartland. "We follow the Vale again, with noble 
trees on either hand, under which the ferns attain 
