EXMOOR.* THERE are few more interesting tracts of country in
England than the hill-country of West Somerset, known as Exmoor, with its companion ranges of the Quantock and Brendon Hills. With all its wild grandeur, this great tract of 'hilly moorland is so lonely and desolate, that we believe it is only within the last few years—since Lorna Boone was written, in fact—that the ordinary tourist has cared to penetrate the recesses of Exmoor. But it has a beauty of its own, and to some natures it has always been attractive : the great downs shelving abruptly to the Channel, the lonely stretches of moor, with deep gullies and frowning rocks here and there, and dangerous bogs lying in wait ; the fewness of regular roads, the almost absence of human dwellings—on Exmoor itself there are no towns or villages—all these are features of a region which, for a certain kind of grand and gloomy picturesqueness, stands almost alone in England.
Exmoor was a British fastness, and though, of course, dis- turbed by the Romans, these original people lingered on apparently till 926, in the time of Athelstan, when Somerset
• An Exploration of Exmoor and the Kin-Country of West Somerset. With Notes on its Archeology. By John Lloyd Warden Page. With Map and Illustrations. London : Seeley and Co. 1890.
became English, the Britons being finally driven through Devonshire and over the Tamar into Cornwall. There are also many traces of Danish invasions, and from that time till Sedgemoor the West Somerset country had a disturbed life, its chief stronghold being Dunster Castle, originally built by William de Mohan on one of many manors granted to him by the Conqueror.
This pleasant and well-written book, the author of which knows the Exmoor country intimately well, having explored it from side to side and end to end, makes an excellent guide to a part of England not too well known. With the help of a good little map at the end of the volume, we follow the author through eleven chapters of walks in West Somerset ; and we are surprised to find how much we meet with that is interesting and curious, putting aside the wild and romantic natural beauties of the country, its splendid views, pure air, and rich moorland colouring. In the general description of Exmoor with which the book begins, we learn a good deal about the geology of the district, its plants and animals, red deer, ponies, sheep,—the part called "The Forest" alone has nine ' thousand sheep. Scattered here and there are curious old farmhouses, once Tudor gentlemen's houses, some with -chapels, partly built of oak, and with the plaster of ceilings and mantelpieces moulded into beautiful patterns. Twenty- -one of these houses are to be found near the sea, between 3finehea,d and Stowey. The population is thin, and the people are superstitious. The author thinks that Dartmoor far sur- passes Exmoor in legend and superstition ; and this may be; but his appendix seems to show that Exmoor has its fair share for the end of the nineteenth century. There is a quaint humour about the people, though they are not very com- municative; but as to this Mr. Page gives us a pleasanter impression than we had before. He tells a little story which is good enough to quote. A gentleman-
" Had managed to lose his way—no difficult thing on Exmoor. He applied to an old fellow, who, after giving him some rather complicated instructions, directed him, when he came to a parson, to turn, as the case may be, to the right or left. A parson !' said our wanderer, what on earth do you mean I' The old gentleman looked wondrous cunning, and intimated that he meant a finger- post. 'And why do you call them parsons I' queried our traveller. I dare not try to reproduce the Exmoor spelling and pronunciation, but the peasant, with, we may imagine, a heavy wink, replied : `Because they be supposed to show 'cc the right way.' " Mr. Page gives us a spirited chapter on the hunting of the wild red deer, only here to be found "in its natural state south of the Border." This is the great sport and excitement of Exmoor, and here have been some celebrated runs. The
greatest run ever yet known, described to the author by the -old huntsman, Arthur Heal, took place so lately as October 29th, 1889. It was the distance and the open country that made this the most remarkable of runs, the stag being fairly chased by the hounds for about twenty-six miles, "across a perfect line of country, never touching a covert between
Bratton and Horsier." This was the country of the cele- brited Jack Russell, the hunting parson, who distressed his Bishop by starting a pack of harriers in his old age ;—
and, which appeals to a still larger public, this is the country of Lorna Doone. It is therefore not far short of being classical ground, though Mr. Page accuses Lorna's historian of having idealised it in a very high degree. It is the way of novelists,
who must of course make a picture, and are surely justified, for instance, in bestowing some of the features of one valley on another,—in raising heights, deepening depths, and making stronger lights and shadows. So we do na lose our faith in _Lorna Doone, though we are here warned "not to build too
much upon the exciting descriptions of Mr. Blackmore." We ourselves should not be afraid of visiting Badgworthy Water and the Doone Valley, though knowing these descriptions almost by heart. What would really distress and spoil the ideal of a lover of Lorna Doone is that white cottage, with " Lorna's Bower" painted on it in large letters, which offers tea to the tourist, and that tourist himself, multiplied by hundreds, who haunts these glens and criticises John Ridd's water-slide.
But there can be no disappointment in the general features of the country through which our guide leads us. Scattered over and surrounding the desolate region of Exmoor proper, there are many objects of curious interest,—old feudal houses, castles such as Dtuister, towering over its quaintest of little medimval towns ; the stately churches for which Somerset is famous ; British barrows, British and Roman camps, such as Danesborough and Ruborough. Hill, valley, wood, and moor, all stretch out and lead on at last to the sea, the silver Channel, with its beautiful and interesting towns, Lynton, Lynmouth, Porlock, Minehead, Watchet, and so eastward and inland to Nether Stowey, where Coleridge lived nearly a hundred years ago.
The attractiveness of this agreeable and interesting book is increased by its pretty illustrations, which give a good idea of the towns, villages, and widespread views of West Somerset. There are few kinds of literary work more useful than such a study as this of some special part of England. Mr. Page has already made such a study of Dartmoor ; we hope that his book on Exmoor will be equally successful.
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