vial
marshes, covered with red cattle sleeping in the sun, and laced with
creeks and flowing dykes.... Beyond again [looking back to the south]
two broad tide-rivers, spotted with white and red-brown sails, gleamed
like avenues of silver ... till they vanished among the wooded hills. On
the eastern horizon the dark range of Exmoor sank gradually into lower
and more broken ridges, which rolled away, woodland beyond woodland,
till all outlines were lost in a purple haze; while far beyond the
granite peaks of Dartmoor hung like a delicate blue cloud, and enticed
the eye away into infinity.'

In the midst of the sand-dunes are the remains of a little, very old
chapel, St Anne's Chapel, which is said to have been built by St
Brannock. North of the Burrows the land rises into cliffs, on which grew
(I hope, _grows_) the great sea-stock; and Baggy Point, at the southern
end of Morte Bay, runs out into the sea. Beyond the Point, the broad
yellow line of Woolacombe Sands stretches along the bay towards Morte
Point.

Not far off was the manor of the Tracys, Woolacombe Tracy. A curse was
brought on this family by William de Tracy, 'first and forwardest of the
knights who murdered Thomas a Becket.' For, 'the Pope banning, cursing,
and excommunicating,' a '_Miraculous Penance_' was imposed on the
Tracys, 'that whether they go by _Land_ or _Water_, the _Wind is ever in
their faces_.' Fuller, who gives this information, concludes dryly: 'If
this was so, it was a _Favour_ in a hot _Summer_ to the _Females_ of
that _Family_, and would spare them the _use_ of a _Fan_.' On William de
Tracy himself fell the special curse, that ever after his death he
should be compelled to wander at night--some say over Woolacombe Sands,
others among Braunton Burrows--till he could make a rope of sand. But,
whenever the rope is nearly woven, there comes a black dog, with a ball
of fire in his mouth, and breaks it; so the penance is never at an end.
Shrieks and wails have been heard by people in cottages near the shore.
Sometimes the uneasy spirit haunts the northern landing-place of the
ferry from Braunton Burrows to Appledore, and a wild, long-drawn cry of
'Boat ahoy!' comes ringing in the darkness over the waters. No one
answers that cry now after dusk, for once, many years ago, the ferryman,
who is well remembered among the Appledore people, went over, and no man
was there, but the black dog jumped into the boat. The ferryman, not
much liking this, put