ht to be a motor hospital, for few cars can get down unscathed, I
should think. Afterward, when we were safely up again, Sir Lionel said
that, if he had known what it was really like he wouldn't have taken
Mrs. Senter and me in the car, but would have had us go in Sir George
Newnes's lift. Not that he didn't trust Apollo, but he confessed to
being uncomfortable for us. I will say that Mrs. Senter behaved well,
however, and never emitted one squeak, though her complexion looked when
we arrived at Lynmouth as if she had been on a tossing ship for weeks.

Up at Lynton, the great thing to do, is to walk along the edge of the
sea cliff to the Valley of Rocks (a kind of nature museum for statues
and busts of Titans), locked in between Castle Rock and the Devil's
Cheesewring. It is a startlingly magnificent walk, but when you are
actually in the Valley of Rocks, it isn't quite so wonderful as when
seen from a distance; the arena itself is rather like the backyard of
the gods, where they threw their broken mead-cups. I had a queer feeling
of having been there before, which I couldn't understand for a minute,
until a scene in "Lorna Doone" flashed back to me. And a young maid in
the hotel firmly believes that many of the fantastic shapes of rock were
once people who (according to an old story), were turned into stone for
behaving irreligiously on Sundays.

Yesterday morning we said good-bye to Lynton, and Sir Lionel, Dick, Mrs.
Senter, and I walked to Watersmeet, Emily going along the upper road in
the car with Young Nick, whose hand was well enough to drive. I don't
know whether Dad ever talked to you about Watersmeet; but I'm surprised
if he didn't, because not only is it one of the very most beautiful
beauty spots of Devon, but not far beyond, on the way to Exmoor, is
Brendon, our name place.

You can guess without my telling, why Watersmeet is called Watersmeet:
and it is the most musical meeting you can imagine; rocks on one side, a
wooded hill on the other, and down below, the singing river. We walked
along an exquisite low-lying path from Watersmeet, and all about I saw
the name of Brendon: Brendon village; Brendon forge, and other Brendons.
I was so excited that I forgot the Lethbridge episode, and was on the
point of exclaiming to Sir Lionel "How interesting to come on father's
ancestral home!" I wonder what would have happened if I had? I should
have had to try and blunder out of the scrape somehow, with Dick's eyes