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LETTER VII.

On Monday morning we started at an early hour for Tavistock, purposing to devote that and the following day to an examination of the beautiful and interesting scenery of that neighbourhood. I shall not attempt to describe this to you: first, because it would occupy much time; and secondly, because I hope some day to put in your hands three vols. on the Traditions and Scenery of Devonshire, by Mrs. Bray, (the lady of the Vicar of Tavistock, and a wellknown authoress,) in which you will find every point of interest connected with the locality fully described; suffice it to say for the present, that we were much gratified, and amply repaid for our trouble and delay in visiting this portion of the country, guided by Mrs. Bray's interesting vols. The hotel we found most excellent, and interesting from its occupying nearly the site of the old abbey. We visited, of course, Endsleigh, the seat of the Duke of Bedford, and were much pleased with the extensive grounds in which it stands.

Mrs. Bray informs us that the rides cut through the grounds by the Duke of Bedford extend to forty miles. They abound in beautiful views. Indeed, this may be said of every part of the country around, whether you follow the windings of the Tamar, or the Tavy, or travel towards the sides of the dreary Dartmoor in search of the many interesting Druidical remains which Mr. Bray and others have brought to light hereabouts, and which are all fully described in Mrs. B.'s vols. before mentioned.

Returning to Plymouth on Tuesday evening highly delighted with our excursion, we proceeded on Wednesday morning to carry into execution a plan which you would hardly expect, considering that I had just landed from a long voyage. It was to sail along the coast, at least as far as Torbay. I dare say you will think it odd enough that I should not have preferred travelling by land, but "many men, many minds:" I am never so happy as when on the bosom of the deep, and infinitely prefer the tossing of a boat to the jolting of a stage-coach. Never was a song more suited to a person's taste and feelings than that which is now unfortunately worn thread-bare, “I'm on the sea," is to mine. I do believe I should have made a respectable corsair, at least I should have joined cordially in their chant,

"O'er the glad waters of the dark-blue sea,

Our thoughts as boundless and our souls as free,
Far as the breeze can bear the billows' foam,
Survey our empire and behold our home!"

Born, however, and walking in a more peaceable and somewhat more respectable line of life, I content myself with the more subdued sentiment of the same noble poet when he says,

"He that has sail'd upon the dark-blue sea

Has view'd at times, I ween, a full fair sight;
When the fresh breeze is fair as breeze may be,
The white sail set, the gallant frigate tight."

By-the-bye, compare the two passages together, and though the latter is pleasing, it is monstrously common-place after the other spirit-stirring lines. Well, however, it was the best adapted to the moment, for although we were over the Hoe, and embarking in our little craft (the same which had conveyed us to the Eddystone), by four o'clock, we found the whole Sound covered with those who were still earlier risers, the fishermen, who, after their day of rest, were now working out their immense fleet of small vessels, averaging about thirty tons, cutter rigged, and mostly with red and dark tanned sails A few trading sloops and one or two yachts were also under way, which gave considerable variety to the scene, especially the latter, from the brilliant whiteness of their large sails propelling the long, low, black hulls to which they belonged through the crowd of fishing smacks, though these too are remarkably fast sailers.

It was a glorious morning, and gave promise of a bright day the eastern horizon already was lighting up with the warm tints refracted from the yet unrisen sun. All else was cold though clear, a light

mist was rising slowly from the woods of Mount Edgecombe and from the heights on the opposite side of the Sound. St. Margaret's Isle lay the very picture of inanimation: there were the fortifications speaking of man's presence, yet no human being was to be seen, although none could have moved about the small islet without attracting attention as he passed along the strongly marked outline of the rocks and buildings. There, too, lay the large ships of war,--ships rather of peace at that moment, for all was still within them, all motionless as they themselves yet there were hundreds on board of each, and all ready to start into motion and activity upon the least alarm given by the watch on deck: and so it would have been had there been an imminent prospect of such alarm, for discipline bestows repose infinitely beyond any little sacrifices which it may require. Here, then, was a moving panorama on a large scale, the scenery and larger objects all still as if on canvass, whilst we and a large fleet of small craft were moving about in an intricate and interesting maze. The air was light and setting rather into the Sound, so that we were obliged to tack out, which added considerably to the interest of the scene; nor was our animated panorama unenlivened by dialogue, for our worthy old tars not only had their remarks to make on the different sinacks, but ever and anon exchanged a hail with one and another, and not unfrequently a smart joke.

The light air baffled us, and before we had got out of the Sound we heard the booming of the morning

gun from the flag-ship, and saw the first ray of the sun above the horizon: then followed the shrill whistles of the boatswains in the different men-of-war, and anon the crews were tumbling-up and stowing away their hammocks, and loosing sails to shake out the dews. Everything around seemed to spring into sudden life-the woods brighten, the birds are on the wing, the labourers resume their tasks at the Breakwater, and our veterans are concocting some coffee, and broiling some fish at the little stove.-Ah! well there's nothing like a nice broiled mackerel for breakfast on board the boat from which it was hooked :-ah! and the scalding-hot coffee out of half-pint cups, and all other things in character.

"Well, captain, what do you think of the wind? "'Pon my life I don't know what to make of it, master; it's something like the Irishman's hurricane at present, and that's next to a calm, but where it's to come out of by-and-by I don't rightly know, for it's anywhere and nowhere at present; hows'ever, I take it we'll have a breeze afore long when the tide makes up channel, and I take it it's slacking in-shore afore now, so we've got a whole tide with us at any rate."

Sure enough it was a puzzler, for the breeze seemed rather to die off than freshen for awhile, and when we got beyond the eddies of the Sound we were in a calm. This, however, was soon exchanged for a nice little south-westerly breeze coming up on the top of the flood-tide as we had expected. And now the

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