TEENY COMBES. 
45 
When yon have sufficiently admired this strange 
place we will go on to Lydford cascade, on ano¬ 
ther stream about two miles off. After a tedious 
walk along a road whose high hedges prevent one 
seeing much of the country, and steering through 
one of the dirtiest of dirty Devonshire farmyards, 
we arrive at a mill. The miller’s wife is expecting 
us (she is not the least like Tennyson’s Miller’s 
Wife) ; she is terribly deaf, but has a key which 
unlocks a gate ; and without propitiating her, Lyd¬ 
ford woods and Lydford cascade will remain a 
sealed book to you. If you give her an extra six¬ 
pence, she opens the mill-pool, and then leaves you, 
with the assurance that the water will be down as 
soon as you. 
In our case she was mistaken. Steep as is the 
path, we are accustomed to those quite as steep ; 
and ere long we were seated by the side of a deep 
pool below the cascade, which glided over the 
smooth face of the rock, a small cream-like thread. 
We were tired, very warm, and very hungry, and 
were enjoying our luncheon while the grey-backed 
trout eyed us suspiciously from their pleasant 
bath, when there came a soft sound of flowing 
water, a sighing among the trees, a cool breeze ; 
and, looking up, we exclaimed, “The water is 
coming!” 
