er having been worked for many years, had at length failed, or grown
unprofitable, under the competition of the richer mines of Cuba and
South Australia. A long chimney, peering above deserted cottages, and a
plentiful crop of weeds, was the sole monument of departed glories--in
shares and dividends--and mine-captain's promises.

At length the hedges began to grow thinner; beeches succeeded the
hazels; the road, more rugged and bare showed the marks where winter's
rains had ploughed deep channels; and, at the turn of a steep hill, we
saw, on the one hand, the brown and blue moor stretching before and
above us; and on the other hand, below, like a map, the fertile vale lay
unrolled, various in colour, according to the crops, divided by
enclosures into every angle from most acute to most obtuse. Below was
the cultivation of centuries; above, the turnip--the greatest
improvement of modern agriculture--flourished, a deep green, under the
protection of fences of very recent date.

One turnpike, and cottages at rare intervals, had so far kept up the
idea of population; but now, far as the horizon extended, not a place of
habitation was to be seen; until, just in a hollow bend out of the
ascending road, we came upon a low white farm-house, of humble
pretensions, flanked by a great turf-stack (but no signs of corn; no
fold-yard full of cattle), which bore, on a board of great size, in long
letters, this imposing announcement, "The Poltimore Arms." Our driver
not being of the usual thirsty disposition of his tribe, we did not test
the capabilities of the one hostelry and habitation on Lord Poltimore's
Moorland Estate, but, pushing on, took the reins while our conductor
descended to open a gate in a large turf and stone wall. We passed
through--left Devon--entered Somerset; and the famous Exmoor estate of
20,000 acres, bounded by a wall forty miles in length, the object of our
journey, lay before us.

Very dreary was this part of our journey, although, contrary to the
custom of the country, the day was bright and clear, and the September
sun defeated the fogs, and kept at a distance the drizzling rains which
in winter sweep over Exmoor. We had now left the smooth, rocky-floored
road, and were travelling along what most resembled the dry bed of a
torrent: turf banks on each side seemed rather intended to define than
to divide the property. As far as the eye could reach, the rushy tufted
moorland extended, bounded in the distance