On the opposite side of the river are the Leigh Woods, whose trees look solemnly grand, covering the precipitous rocks which overlook the stream. Above us are the cliffs, on the summits of which a few minutes since we were standing. The path is winding, and at every turn a new and striking picture meets the eye. Some curious freak of nature; some wild contortion made in her hour of agony; some painful writhings during the general break-up, which severed these rocks and cut the river's channel,-have left their marks upon the seamed and furrowed rocks on which you gaze. Of all forms and shapes; of all hues and tints; now covered with shrubs, wild flowers, or lichens; now, like Lear, lifting up their bare heads "so old and white" to the burning of the mid-day sun, or the "pelting of the pitiless storm." There far over our heads are the noble-looking St. Vincent Rocks; there the picturesque Black Rocks; at every step there is a change in the aspect of the place, and every change is replete with beauty, sublimity, or picturesqueness.

There is a ferry on the river, by means of which you get into the Leigh Woods; and a fine treat awaits all who love the deep solemnity of a wood ramble. Just before our visit a vile and horrid murder had been committed on the body of a young woman in these woods; and the thought of this terrible crime threw a deeper gloom and a more solemn feeling over the place than it usually wears. Twilight was shedding its melancholy hue over all things; the birds were chatting, fussy and restless as they always

are just before roosting time; the breeze, which made the day so delightfully refreshing, was hushed, and not a leaf of all the multitudinous foliage "clapped its little hands" either in glee or in warning. All was still and hushed save the birds, and they did not sing, but chattered, chattered in noisy garrulity, which to our then mood added to the awe and solemnity which the whole scene inspired. The walk on the other side of the river had been bright, cheerful, joyous, and merry; the walk in the Leigh Woods was solemn, sombre, gloomy, and awe-inspiring. It seemed as if the spirit of the poor murdered girl still brooded among the scenes of her foul death, and threw a feeling of horror round every object there. Still the woods are very fine; and a pleasant ramble, we doubt not, could, with pleasant companions, and cheerful talk, and light-hearted thought, be had therein. Suffice it that we did not have one; and can only hope that no visitor will again be so haunted with the spirit of gloom and horror which the late unnatural crime seemed to have raised, and to whose ghostly wanderings the woods now seemed devoted. No other living soul but ourselves was there.

Every lover of a truly delightful scene of beauty, variety, grandeur, and picturesqueness, will not leave Clifton without engaging a boat, and rowing themselves, or being rowed by others, up and down the Somerset Avon. We cannot picture to our minds anything more charming than the incessant change of views-all of them lovely and beautiful, all of them what the poet declares a thing of beauty to be,

a joy for ever"—which he will thus be enabled to obtain. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the boat glides on, and the still waters reflect now the bold outline of the cliffs; now the many-tinted trees of the Leigh Woods; now some bold headland stands out, overawing you with its huge proportions; while you have but to look on the other side of the river, and your eye meets all that is graceful in outline, gentle in expression, exquisite in proportion, and pleasant to look at. In a few miles' rowing is presented all that makes river scenery, and especially such river scenery as the Avon's, so full of interest and attraction to all who have an open eye, a poetic feeling, and an artistic sense. Here all things continue to increase the wonderful influence which nature exercises over sensitive minds. Wood, water, steep and naked cliffs; a winding river; a clear, bright, blue sky; a stillness as of solitude reigning over all, and shedding its power of quiet and calm over the heart as well as over the scene, interrupted only by the slight stir of the waters which the gently and cautiously used oars made, or occasionally by the distant rumbling noise caused by rock-blasting; and, above all, shone in glowing splendour a bright autumn sun, making bright and glad every object on which the gold-tinting beams fell. The sheep sleeping on the downs; the cows lying about the hills, and chewing the cud, not of sweet and bitter fancies, but performing that solemn act of instinct called "ruminating," which gives to them such a semi-wise appearance; the black rocks glinting beneath the sun's

rays; the trees more finely and gorgeously lit up by his setting than by his rising beams; the waters sparkling as the breeze made the slightest ripple, or the oars made the slightest break; these and a thousand nameless objects of loveliness and beauty were before us, above us, and around us, on that memorable day. Once more we repeat, let no one visit Clifton and leave it without a boat ride up and down the Avon. Any one so doing cannot be said to have been there at all in the best, the highest, and truest sense of the words. Often do we, sleeping and waking, dream that happy ride over again; often do we, in our mind's eye, see all the splendour of that divine day, and of that most lovely of scenes, pass before us like a glorious phantasmagoria, which we would fain recall for the delectation of such of our readers as are not too wise for a day's dreaming; nor too proud to receive a pleasure and a joy in again becoming as little children on the earth.

Clifton has a very pretty, well-arranged, and admirably provided Zoological Garden. A very profitable hour may be spent in rambling about the walks, admiring its botanical specimens, and still more its zoological ones. The gardens are not very large, but are pleasant, and well worth a visit. They add to the many attractions which Clifton offers to all who love the solemn, the grand, the beautiful, the picturesque, and the lovely in nature, and know how truly to enjoy such a ramble.

183

BIDEFORD AND ITS BRIDGE.

"ALL who have travelled through the delicious scenery of North Devon, must needs know the little white town of Bideford, which slopes upwards from its broad tide-river paved with yellow sands, and manyarched old bridge, where salmon wait for autumn floods, towards the pleasant upland in the west. Above the town the hills close in, enshrined with deep oak woods, through which juts here and there a crag of fern-fringed slate; below they lower and open more and more in softly rounded knolls and fertile squares of red and green, till they sink into the expanse of hazy flats, rich salt marshes, and rolling sand hills, where Torridge joins her sister Taw, and both together flow quietly toward the broad surges of the sea and the everlasting thunder of the long Atlantic swell. Pleasantly the old town stands there, beneath its soft Italian sky, formed day and night by the fresh ocean breeze, which forbids alike the keen wintry frosts and the fierce thunder heats of the midland; and pleasantly it has stood there for now perhaps eight hundred years, since the first Grenvil, cousin of the Conqueror, returning from the conquest of South Wales, drew round him trusty Saxon serfs, and free Norse rovers with their golden curls, and