Harper, the musique of thy life,
So sweet, so free from jarr or strife,
To crowne thy skill hath raysed thee higher,
And placéd thee in angels’ quier:
For though that death hath throwen thee down,
In Heaven thou hast thy harp and crowne.

In the chancel is a tablet to the memory of Mary Westcott, who died in 1648. Some curious verses compare her to a marigold:

This Mary-gold lo here doth shew
Marie worth gold lies neer below
Cut downe by death, the fair’st gilt flow’r
Flourish and fade doth in an hour.
The Marygold in sunshine spread
(When cloudie) clos’d doth bow the head
This orient plant retains the guise
With splendid Sol to set and rise
Even so, this Virgin Marie rose
In life soon nipt, in death fresh growes
With Christ her Lord shall rise againe
When shee shall shine more bright by farre
Than any twinkling radiant starre
For be assur’d that by death’s dart
Mary enjoys the better part.

An anagram follows, in this wise:

Marie Westcott
Mors evicta tuta,

and the representation of a yellow marigold concludes the curious monument. Not the least curious part of it is the fact that these verses do not commemorate a girl who died untimely, but a spinster aged seventy.

The old farmhouse of Bowden, where Bishop Jewell, the apologist of the Anglican Church, was born in 1522, remains. His defence of the newly established church was at the time thought so admirable that it was directed by the Government of Queen Elizabeth to be chained in the parish churches of the kingdom.

CHAPTER X
LEE—MORTE POINT—MORTHOE AND THE TRACY LEGEND—WOOLACOMBE—GEORGEHAM—CROYDE—SAUNTON SANDS—BRAUNTON, BRAUNTON BURROWS, AND LIGHTHOUSE

The way out of Ilfracombe to Lee, for the pedestrian, is through the Tors Walks, and so by clearly defined cliff paths for two miles. The carriage road leads past Ilfracombe parish church, and, turning to the right, goes up hill to Slade. Finally, having climbed to an extravagant height, it plunges alarmingly down, and still down, steep and winding, through a luxuriant valley, where you encounter the hot steamy air, like entering a conservatory. Fuchsias in full-bloom take the place in the hedgerows generally occupied by privet, thorn, or blackberry-bramble, for this is the locally famed “Valley of Fuchsias,” where frost comes rarely and the keenest winds are robbed of their sting. At the foot of this descent, the village of Lee is gradually disclosed; a graceful little Early English Church, built in 1836, the old Post Office, where visitors do most resort for tea, a few clusters of cottages, and then the sea, furiously rushing into a little rocky bay, or calmly lapping among the rocks, or retired at low tide, leaving exposed a thick bed of seaweed that sends up a strong bracing scent; all according to the mood and circumstances of the moment. A strikingly handsome hotel—the “Manor Hotel,” standing amid lawns and gardens, for it was once the manor-house—occupies the middle of the tiny bay, and is the resort of those who like to be within easy reach of Ilfracombe, and yet out of its exuberant life; and that is all there is of Lee. The coastguard path clambers round to Bull Point lighthouse, and there is a steep and rocky, but hopeful-looking, lane on the left which promises a short cut for the stray cyclist to Morthoe. Appearances are deceptive, and, quite a long way up hill, the lane ends and the aggrieved stranger finds himself in an almost trackless succession of fields of oats. Negotiating these with what patience he may, and floundering through the fearsome mud of the two farmyards (Heaven send it be not wet weather!) of Warcombe and Damage Bartons, he comes at length to a road, which, to his dismay, he finds is a private road to Bull Point lighthouse. From it there is no exit towards Morthoe save through a formidable padlocked gate eight feet high, but a notice (on the outer side of the gate only, and therefore likely to be overlooked by the raging cyclist within) directs those who want to drive or ride to the lighthouse to call for the keys at a neighbouring cottage. As for the lighthouse, it is own brother to dozens of other modern structures of the kind, and was built in 1874. It was built especially to guard against the dangers of Morte Point, and in addition to its occulting light has a lower fixed red beacon on the west, to mark the position of Morte Stone. A reef-strewn indentation, known as Rockham Bay, separates this spot from Morte Point.