66 
FERNY COMBES. 
sert. Our position was a very fine Tor, consisting 
of vast blocks of granite, some the size of an ordi¬ 
nary-sized honse, piled one upon another or resting 
on their edges, looking as if a slight touch would 
precipitate them into the vale beneath, in whose 
centre arose the tower of Widdecombe church; 
while around stood tall trees, and verdant meadows, 
looking like jewels set in the cold grey moor. 
We diverged again from the direct road to visit 
Beckey Ball, not far from the village of Manaton. 
The walk from the village over the fields is pretty; 
but as for a fall, there was literally none when we 
were present, only a faint trickling and murmur¬ 
ing behind the rocks, which we scaled in every 
direction, searching for Hymenophyllum and P. 
Phegopteris , but without success. We should in¬ 
deed think that the Ball of Beckey can be at no 
time very impressive, and in this case there was 
no miller’s wife at hand, who for sixpence would 
provide a cascade; though there was a gardener, 
equally ambitious of sixpences, who would gladly 
make his wicket-gate the only passage to the Ball. 
Moreton Hampstead can hardly be called a 
town, though it has a market-place and one of the 
cleanest and most pleasant inns in the country. It 
stands a little elevated, and the air is proverbially 
pure and dry. It is a capital place from which to 
