rchyard is a rough pillar usually described as a coffin-lid.
It is probably a "Sarsen," indicating that the church site was used
for worship in prehistoric times or at least that it was a place of
sepulture. There are two headstones of very early date--1579 (?) and
1580, and the tomb of Joseph Braddick (1673) bears the following
curious epitaph:

"STRONG AND IN LABOUR
SUDDENLY HE REELS
DEATH CAME BEHIND HIM
AND STRUCK UP HIS HEELS.

SUCH SUDDEN STROKES
SURVIVING MORTALS BID YE
STAND ON YOUR WATCH
AND BE ALLSO READY."

There are several other curious records here that will repay perusal
by their quaintness and unconscious pathos. One is rather ferocious:

"STAY, PASSENGER, AWHILE AND READ
YOUR DOOM I AM
YOU MUST BEE DEAD."

The dedication and the name of the village are in some doubt.
Authorities make claim for St. Brendan as the patron, hence
Branscombe. A chapel was built at Seaton in honour of this traveller
saint.

[Illustration: BRANSCOMBE CHURCH.]

The coast at Branscombe is wildly beautiful, and an interesting ramble
may be taken at low tide among the masses of rock that form a sort of
undercliff; the miniature valleys between are carpeted with rare and
beautiful flowers. It is not practicable to continue by the shore
except at the expenditure of much exertion. The road to Sidmouth
should be taken by way of the few houses that constitute Weston, and
then by the highly placed Dunscombe Farm and the picturesque ruin near
it. These winding lanes lead eventually to the lonely little church
hamlet of Salcombe Regis--"King Athelstan's salt-works in the Combe."
This is one of those sweetly-pretty lost villages by the sea which one
hesitates to mention lest a speculator should investigate with the
idea of an elaborate "simple life" hostel in his mind. But Salcombe is
too difficult of approach, even for faddists, although only a nominal
two miles separates it from the South Western terminus on the other
side of the hill. The church dates from 1150, though aisles were added
a hundred years later and the tower in 1450.

We now approach the borders of the older Wessex, the limit for which
for want of definite evidence to the contrary the writer has had to
fix arbitrarily at the mouth of the Otter. The last of the coast towns
in this region is one of the best centres in south-east Devon for a
detailed exploration of the countryside. That is, the best if a coast
town must be chosen. To the