EEKNT COMBES. 
29 
white cottages nestled in woods, the tiny quay 
built of unhewn pebbles from the shore, and num¬ 
berless skiffs and fishing-boats with tanned sails, 
looking ruddy in the sunlight. 
As you leave the Hobby, or rather the New road 
(for it changes its name about a mile from its ter¬ 
mination), you come to a most lovely view. Look¬ 
ing eastward, you can trace the road you have just 
traversed, and the villages of Buckish and Pepper- 
combe suspended against the dark cliffs, gleaming 
in the evening sun. Now commences the serious 
matter of descending to the village : a narrow paved 
lane, with deep red banks on either hand, leads 
down the hill. After you have walked about a 
couple of hundred yards, you should turn to your 
left, where you will find yourself on a pretty ter¬ 
race, consisting of four or five houses, covered with 
myrtles and fuchsias ; from this spot you may form 
some sort of idea of the strange little town; four 
hundred feet below is the blue sea, from which 
the houses rise irregularly at every sort of angle, 
hung against the sides of a deep precipitous glen, 
crowned by woods. 
We proceed, slipping and sliding, till we pause 
at what is properly the head of “ the street.” On 
each side, tiny gardens or quaint terraced balconies 
project from the ground-floor of the houses ; these 
