to be the characteristics of the
land, and the ridiculous suggestion that the town's name has been
corrupted from _Toute-a-l'aise_ is one shade less absurd, because that
title would be so very appropriate. Here and there a silver gleam shows
where the river runs between heavily wooded banks. To the east a green
and smiling country of gentle hills and valleys leads to that shade of
past splendour, the Castle of Berry Pomeroy; and far away to the
north-west, it is possible to see the high, sharp tors on Dartmoor.
Looking straight down, the uneven roofs seem tumbled over one another in
a way that suggests that different ages have casually showered them into
the little town.

Totnes received its first charter from King John, and there are few
older boroughs in the country. Originally a walled town, Fore Street is
still crossed by the East Gate, which has been rebuilt in comparatively
modern times. Within is a room decorated by an early Renaissance frieze
and 'linen-pattern' panelling. The upper stories of some of the old
houses project over the lower ones, and in the High Street they jut
quite across the pavements, and rest upon columns, making piazzas or
covered ways along the street. Such piazzas are very uncommon in
England, but there is a short one, called the Butter Walk, at Dartmouth.

The church is a very fine Perpendicular building, of a warm rose colour,
and it has a high battlemented tower from which three figures look out
of their niches. Some very grotesque gargoyles peer down from the roof
at intervals. The great treasure of the church is its screen, carved so
finely that the pattern seems like lacework, and it is difficult to
realize that it can be of stone. The main lines of the carving curve and
spread upwards almost like the lines of palm-leaves, and the screen is
coloured and gilded. There is another beautiful and delicate, though
less elaborate, bit of carving which divides a little chapel from the
south side of the chancel. Under the tower arch is a curious monument to
Christopher Blackhall, who died in 1635, and his four wives, who are
kneeling one behind the other. The dates of their deaths are very
clearly marked by the different fashions of their dresses--a compact and
upstanding ruff adds to the stiff precision of the first wife's
appearance; while the sloping lines of a 'Vandyke' collar embellish the
dress of the fourth.

On the north side of the church stands the old Guildhall, and in front
of