THE FERNY MOORLANDS. 
Ill 
tops in a symmetrical network, which, stretches 
away until dimly defined in the far-off distance. 
On the right, in varying terraces which rise 
towards the sky, is a mixed landscape of meadow 
and hedge and tree. Down far beneath, rushing 
along under a dark overgrowth of trees, roar 
the waters of the Teign, just seen away to 
the left, where a break in the canopy of 
overhanging green reveals the dark and foam¬ 
ing current. 
Winding round and round to lighten the rough¬ 
ness and steepness of the descent, the path at 
length reaches the extreme point of the valley, 
and crossing a swift, dark mill-stream, that runs 
for a short distance parallel with the Teign, 
emerges on to Fingle Bridge. This spot is, 
indeed, a chosen land of Ferns. To the right 
and to the left, away from the arches of the 
bridge, the Teign brawls over and between the 
granite boulders which are strewn in its bed: 
now sparkling in pebbly shallows ; now deepening 
into sluggish pools ; now roaring in mimic fury 
over miniature falls; now calmly flowing by its 
silent banks, which, overhung with the deep 
