thfully did he maintain King Richard's cause that, when Henry IV came
to the throne, the Judge was banished the kingdom, and his goods and
lands were confiscated. These, Sir Robert Cary, his son, recovered
literally at the point of the sword, for a 'certain Knight-errand of
Arragon,' of great skill in feats of arms, 'arrived here in England,
where he challenged any man of his rank and quality.' Sir Robert
accepted the challenge, and a 'long and doubtful combat was waged in
Smithfield, London.' In the end the 'presumptious Arrogonoise' was
vanquished, and Henry V, to whom Sir Robert's gallantry appealed,
restored him 'a good part of his father's lands,' and granted him leave
to bear 'in a field silver, on a bend sable, three white roses,' the
arms of the conquered knight--the arms that the Carys still bear. The
Clovelly branch of the family is now extinct.

A little to the south of Clovelly, and on high ground, are Clovelly
Dykes, the remains of an old camp, sometimes called British and
sometimes Roman. It is large and circular, and the position was
strengthened by three great trenches, about eighteen feet deep and three
hundred feet long, which lie around it. The camp commands the only old
road in the surrounding country.

About seven or eight miles to the west is the grand headland of Hartland
Point. It is a narrow ridge that rises precipitously three hundred and
fifty feet above the water, projects far out into the sea, and abruptly
ends the coast-line to the west. The coast is very fine, but also most
dangerous, and the cliffs, cleft here and there by great chasms, fall
sheer down to needle-points of hard black slate rock jutting out into
the sea.

The name of Herty Point, as it used to be called, was originally, says
Camden, 'Hercules's promontory,' and this title has given rise to 'a
very formal story that Hercules came into Britain and killed I know not
what giants.' Here Camden pauses in his description of the place, to
consider whether there ever was a Hercules at all, and, if so, whether
there were not really forty-three Hercules; and if this was not so,
whether Hercules was perhaps 'a mere fiction to denote the strength of
human prudence,' or, again, possibly a myth personifying the sun, and
his labours the signs of the zodiac, 'which the sun runs through
yearly.' On the whole, he decides that, at any rate, Hercules never came
to Britain, but the name might have been given to the point by the
Greeks 'out of