The grounds are charmingly wild, yet graceful. Nature is in a great degree left to have her own way; the trees are of magnificent size (one of them indeed measures 28 feet in girth), ferns and wild flowers grow in rich luxuriance: every now and then glimpses are obtained of the beautiful river, and, on the opposite side, of the hill-steeps and thick woods of Devonshire. A pretty landing-place for boats is among the most picturesque points in the landscape; a lesser river here flows into the Tamar; a waterfall adds to the interest of the scene; and a neat little inn, close to the bank, gives refreshment to the wayfarer; above all its attractions is to be counted this—it is distant a dozen miles from a railway, and the shrill whistle never breaks the harmony of the song-birds, who “cannot help but sing” in every bush, brake, and tree of the demesne. The scenery on the river in the neighbourhood of Cothele is extremely beautiful, and in many places thickly overhung by skirting woods. Danescombe, a deep hollow in the woods, is a charming spot, as are the Morwell rocks, and many other places.
We have directed attention to but one of a hundred attractions in Devonshire and Cornwall: Devonshire is rich in the picturesque at all seasons; and the wild grandeur of the Cornish coast has for centuries been a theme of special laudation. Here and there, no doubt, other countries may supply us with finer examples of the sublime and beautiful in scenery; but they are to be reached only by sacrifices, such as the Home Tourist is not called upon to make: our own Islands have been gifted by God with so much that is refreshing as well as exciting to the eye and mind, that he or she must be fastidious indeed who fails to be content with the beauties that Nature presents so “near at hand”—accessible at comparatively easy cost of time, toil, and money.
The Landing Place.
Between Exeter and Plymouth there may be a tour for every day of a month.
Among the more delightful trips, where all is so beautiful, and where it is impossible to turn in any direction without finding some delightful place or some interesting object, may be named as especially within the reach of visitors, those to Ivy Bridge, with its abundant charms of hill, dell, wood, and river; to Saltram, the seat of the Earl of Morley, on the banks of the Laira; to the Beacon and moors of Brent; to the picturesque and pleasant dingles and combs of Cornwood; to Plympton, with its historic sites and its pleasant associations; to Bickleigh and its poetical vale; to Dartmoor, with its gloomy waste, its wild and romantic “breaks” of scenery, and its endless antiquities; and to scores of other delicious spots. The trip up the river Tamar to the Weir-head is one which ought to be taken by every visitor, embracing, as it does, besides hundreds of other points of interest, the dockyards, gun-wharf, Keyham steam-yard, Mount Edgcumbe, Torpoint, Thanckes, Gravesend House, the mouth of the sweet river Lynher, by which St. Germans is reached; Saltash, whose women are proverbial for their dexterity and strength in aquatic exercises, and who often carry off regatta prizes; St. Budeaux, with its conspicuous church; the junction of the Tavy with the Tamar; Warleigh, Beer Ferris, and Maristow; Cargreen and Landulph, in whose churchyard Theodore Palæologus, the last male descendant of the Christian emperors of Greece, rests in peace; Pentillie Castle, with its romantic love stories and tales of change of fortune; Cothele, of which we have spoken; Calstock, with its fine old church situated on a promontory; Harewood House, the seat of the Trelawneys, and the scene, in Mason’s Elfrida, of the love of Ethelwold and of the misfortunes consequent on his marriage with the daughter of Ordgar; and the sublime and beautiful Morwell Rock.
Staddon Heights, Mount Batten, Penlee Point, Hooe, and many other places, are within short distances of the Hoe, at Plymouth, and can be easily reached. Trematon Castle and St. John’s are also near at hand, and pleasure trips are frequently made in steam-boats round the Eddystone.
For those who make a longer stay in South Devon, visits may well be made to Tavistock, to Totnes, to Berry Pomeroy Castle, to Torquay, with a long et cetera.[17] Besides the trip up the Tamar, there are other rivers in South Devon whose charms are of a totally different, but perhaps even more exquisitely beautiful character. Thus the Dart, the Lynher, the Plym, the Yealm, the Erme, and the Tavy, all present attractions to the tourist.
It cannot fail to augment the enjoyment of those who visit this beautiful county—the fairest, the brightest, and the “greenest” of all our English shires—to recall the many “worthies” to whom Devonshire and Cornwall have given birth; men renowned in art, in science, and in letters: and the gallant men, the “adventurers,” who carried the flag of England into every country of the world, braving the battle and the breeze in all the seas that surround earth in the four quarters of the globe. It is a long list—the names of Drake, of Raleigh, and of Davy; of Reynolds, Northcote, Haydon, and Eastlake; of Carew, of Hawkins, and of Gilbert; of Kitto, of Bryant, and of Hawker, being not a tithe of the eminent men to which this district has given birth—of whom the western shires are rightly and justly proud.
Shame be to those who seek in other lands the enjoyment they may find so abundantly at home—who talk freely of the graces and grandeurs of far-off countries, and do not blush to acknowledge entire ignorance of those that bless and beautify their own.