ur joys, our all we have.
And pays us but with age and dust;
Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wandered all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days.
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,
The Lord shall raise me up, I trust!'

Following the coast, 'running eastward with many winding and waving
creeks,' Sidmouth is soon reached. Westcote is philosophical over both
Sidmouth and Seaton: 'In former times, very famous ports (and every
place and man hath but his time).' Sidmouth was an important fishing
town several hundred years ago; it is now a popular watering-place, set
among high red cliffs, amidst very pretty scenery, and favoured with a
great deal of sunshine. Leading inland are very high and steep hills,
different in shape from most of the hills in the neighbourhood, for they
are neither rounded, pointed, nor sloping, but have a curious square,
rather flat-topped look, and scarped sides.

Farther eastward, one comes to Branscombe, a straggling village in a
broad hollow where three valleys meet. A stream flows down each combe,
and eventually all three join and run together into the sea at
Branscombe Mouth. There is a great deal to admire in the steep sides and
irregular curves, softened by the spreading woods in these valleys, and
close to the shore a hill rises almost precipitously for six hundred
feet.

A very short distance further on, the white cliffs of the tiny cove of
Beer come into view. Beer is an exceptionally delightful village,
because of its strong individuality. At the top of the inlet the houses
are clustered irregularly in little offshoots, but the main street runs
down a deep cleft narrowing towards the sea between white gleaming chalk
cliffs such as are rare in this county. A rapid stream races down the
side of the street, and, dashing over a rock at the edge of the beach,
buries itself in the shingle. Beer Head and the cliff that separates the
village from Seaton run out into the sea, so that it is completely shut
in, and from the water's edge it is impossible to see past those massive
walls standing against the sea and sky on either side. The cove is so
small that one wonders it counts as a harbour at all, but the beach is
covered with many small boats and several heavily-built trawlers. As I
saw it, the water was a clear blue-grey, and some sea-gulls were
placidly floating a few yards from land, rising and falling as the waves
rolled in, and looking