Chapter III: /The Clwyd and the Dee./--View from Rhuddlan (3)

At St. Stephen's-by-Launceston it receives the Werrington stream, and expands into a beautiful lake in Werrington Park. Below the lake the impetuous Attery stream joins the now brimming river, which, passing under Poulston and Greston, reaches Tavistock New Bridge, where we are on the "scientific frontier" of Devon and Cornwall. At this point, too, the Tamar enters upon a new stage of its existence, leaving its lowly moorland birth and quiet ordinary youth behind it, and beginning a career which is henceforth the cynosure of all eyes. Hurrying by Gunnislake, the busy little hamlet of workers in clay and stone, at Weir Head the river literally leaps into fame.

From the coaching hamlet it has slided on through a woodland glade of bewitching beauty, which wins a spontaneous outburst of admiration from the visitor who, haply, has chosen to approach the favoured scene by the serpentining sylvan walk from Morwellham to Weir Head. Here its waters break in a pretty cascade over the artificial ridge of rocks that reaches from bank to bank. Then they prettily describe a circle about the islet in mid-stream, gaining new life and movement from the impetus. With the briskness of a waterslide the Tamar rushes on to Morwellham. A charming variety of river-glimpses may be gained through the luxuriant foliage at Weir Head, the views hereabouts having become the objective of the highly popular steamer-trips from Plymouth, Devonport, and Saltash, which have constituted "Up the Tamar" quite a colloquialism in the West.

The winding river gains a new glory from its beautiful and impressive surroundings as it flows at the base of Morwell Rocks, those wonderful examples of Nature's carvings, set in the midst of luxuriant foliage that here hides their shaggy sides and there throws into bold relief an awe-inspiring pile. The Rocks are unique in their romantic beauty, even though they figure among the many objects of interest in a highly picturesque neighbourhood. The Chimney Rock and the Turret Rock are happier instances of descriptive nomenclature than usual. Bolder still is that most striking specimen of natural architecture, Morwell Rock, the massiveness of which doubtless gained for it the capital distinction. To the giddy height of the topmost rock, above the far-stretching woodland of Morwellham, scarce a sound of the rippling river comes; but the silver thread of its serpentine course may be traced afar through the romantic valley, winding about Okel Tor and the great bend that forms the peninsula between Morwellham and Calstock, and then taking its favoured way through cherry orchard-groves on to the haven under the hill.

The river is navigable to Weir Head, but Morwellham is the highest point reached by the steamers. Pursuing the line of least resistance, the Tamar now makes a tremendous sweep about the hill on which Calstock Church stands. But ere the first view of the "two-faced church" is caught, an interesting riparian residence is skirted--Harewood, the scene of Mason's play of _Elfrida_, now the office of the Duchy of Cornwall, but formerly one of the Trelawny properties. Calstock, if it please you, is the centre of the old "cherry picking" district, though to-day its strawberry gardens must rival the orchards in their remunerative return to the industrious population of the quaint little town that seems to have grown away from the water's edge to the pleasant Cornish country beyond Tamar bank. Still, if you would see Calstock in its daintiest garb and most delightful beauty, come you when the pretty cherry blossom decks the groves by the river, and the tender pink and white clothes the orchard lawns to the uplands.

From Calstock on to Cotehele, and thence almost to the junction of the Tamar and the Tavy, the same delightful eccentricity of the river-scenery presents itself--every prominent feature re-appearing in an entirely different aspect, scarce five minutes of the river-trip passing without a variation of the point of view. A last glimpse of Calstock Church, and we are encompassed by woodland. Everywhere a luxuriant living green meets the eye. Apparently, the swelling woods and orchard lawns approach ahead and form a _cul-de-sac_; but the Tamar makes a sharp detour to the right or to the left, and another glory of the leafy way bursts upon the sight. Again and again the pleasing experience is repeated ere a human habitation relieves a monotony that for once is wholly charming.

Beyond the limekilns of Cotehele appears the lodge gate of Cotehele House, one of the residences of the Edgcumbe family, and a place of some historic interest. By far the most prominent feature in the fine landscape which may be viewed from a tower at the highest point of the grounds is Kit Hill, the loftiest eminence on Hingston Down, which was the scene of a last desperate battle between the Britons of Cornwall and the invading Saxons in the year 835. A beautiful valley near Cotehele, known as Danescombe to this day, is said to have taken its name from the allies whom the Cornish called to their aid in this sanguinary struggle.

Immediately below Cotehele the zig-zag course of the Tamar is most strongly marked, and nowhere are its revelations of new views and fresh charms more entrancing than where it winds about the extensive grounds of Pentillie. Shortly after we have doffed our caps in deference to the pious Sir Richard Edgcumbe, devout worshipper of the Holy Mother, who erected a church by the river-bank to commemorate his miraculous escape from the soldiers of the royal Richard, we catch a fleeting but impressive glimpse of another stately residence of a county family, on a hilly eminence clothed to its crown with thickly grown woods, the castellated mansion emerging from dense leafy environs well towards the crest. All suddenly the coquetting stream swerves to the Devonshire side, as speedily returns to caress the fair meads of Cornwall, and another glorious prospect is disclosed. A nearer view is now to be had of Pentillie Castle, lying embowered in the far-stretching woodland, the Gothic features of the lordly pleasure-house which the late owner, Mr. John Tillie Coryton, built for himself admirably harmonising with its beautiful surroundings.

Below Pentillie, the Tamar, in its ampler waters and wider course, has to be satisfied with less interesting associations. A last big bend in the river, and, past the pretty hamlet of Cargreen, we shortly find ourselves abreast of the church of St. Dilpe, at Landulph, erected very near the river-bank, on the Cornish side. The tower of St. Budeaux Church, whose melodious bells chime cheerily across the water, rises high above the Devon bank. Here the Tavy makes common cause with the Tamar, and the twin rivers flow on by Saltash into the Hamoaze. Nearly opposite the mouth of the Tavy, on the Cornish side, is the ecclesiastical parish of St. Stephen-by-Saltash, with the ruins of Trematon Castle at the summit of a well-wooded hill. The castle is believed to have been built at the period of the Conquest, and was subsequently held by the Earls of Cornwall.

At Saltash--as the Western men will not forget to remind the boasting Cockney--the Tamar is wider than the Thames at Westminster. Saltash itself, by the way, was originally (according to Carew) Villa de Esse, after a family of that name, and to this was added "Salt," on account of its "marine situation." The busy little waterside town has this great dignity--that its Mayor and Corporation take precedence of those of Plymouth and Devonport. Saltash has gradually, through many generations, built itself up a steep, rocky acclivity until the habitations extend to the summit of the hill at Longstone, from which favoured eminence the prospect is very fine. Here may we see the broadened river where the ebbing tide swirls by the _Mount Edgcumbe_ training-ship, that is swinging round on its tidal pivot just above Brunel's great bridge; thence, flowing beneath the wondrous iron link of the two westernmost counties with which the engineer spanned the river, here half a mile across, the Tamar, now joined by the Lynher from the West, loses its identity in the all-embracing Hamoaze, with its wood-fringed shores; the river passing unremarked into Plymouth Harbour, from the Harbour to the Sound, and from the Sound to the Channel--forgotten now in the great affairs of navies, and the thrilling stories of the seas on which Drake and Hawkins, Raleigh and Grenville, sailed to fight the Spaniard. From haunts of peace, the Tamar, itself a pleasant stream, has flowed through scenes of rare beauty to these so warlike surroundings, where its current eddies about the decaying hulks on whose decks the old sea-dogs died, where its waters wash arsenal, dock, and victualling yard, and where it oft bears on its broad bosom a mighty fleet of men-of-war.

* * * * *

At the foot of Brown Willy, Cornwall's highest hill, in the parish of St. Breward, there is an aqueous locality in which the water-finder might exercise his art of divination with the utmost confidence, if, indeed, he did not find his occupation gone by reason of the abundance of the surface water. This is Foy-Fenton, and here the /Fowey/ rises. As, to this day, Fowey becomes "Foy" in the naming of the boats that boast the prettiest harbour in the county for their port, one may easily discover a close association in the nomenclature of the sites and scenes at the beginning and the end of this very charming stream. In its course, curiously enough, the river changes its name. Where it flows southward through the moorlands between St. Neot and St. Cleer, it is called the Dranes (or Dreynes) river; and fishermen from the "model borough" of Liskeard, who love to flog its pleasant waters for the toothsome trout that they harbour, would be prepared to contend, in the face of the maps and in the presence of geographers, that it is the Dranes river, and no other. In flood-time a strong stream that gives the road-surveyor endless trouble, the Fowey, leaping along its bouldered way, here and there lightening its journey by falling in picturesque cascades, scattering its showers of iridescent spray over the thick foliage that everywhere clothes its banks, runs almost level with the main road to St. Neot--a village noted for its window-pictured legend of St. Neot and the miraculous supply of fish, in the parish church--where it receives a goodly stream of that name. Increasing the beauty and interest of its course with every mile it travels, the river by-and-by glides into the far-stretching woodland of Glynn, the seat of Lord Vivian, and then becomes one of the principal contributors to the scenic charms of the railway-side from Devonport to Par, which Miss Braddon describes as the most delightful of all journeys by rail.

After leaving its moorland haunts, and in order to reach Glynn, the Fowey took a westerly turn, but, Bodmin once skirted, the river runs directly southward again, under Resprin bridge and past Lanhydrock House, the Cornish home of that Lord Robartes who was the leader of the Parliamentarian forces in these parts. The ancient mansion, of the Tudor period, passed through many crises, and, together with modern additions, was practically destroyed by fire in 1881, and rebuilt in 1883-4. The next object of interest seen from the river is the ruin of Restormel Castle, on the summit of a bold headland a mile from Lostwithiel. The building of the castle is ascribed to the Cardenhams, who flourished hereabouts in the reign of the first Edward; and it was once the residence of the Earls of Cornwall.

At Lostwithiel--the Uzella of Ptolemy--the Fowey is crossed by an ancient and narrow bridge of eight pointed arches, erected in the fourteenth century. The bridge is very strongly buttressed, and over each buttress is an angular niche. A silver oar, which is among the insignia of the Corporation, bears the inscription: "_Custodia aquæ de Fowey_." The celebrated Colonel Silas Titus, author of "Killing noe Murder," Member of Parliament for the borough 1663-79, was the donor of the oar. Lostwithiel, where the river meets the tide, at once becoming navigable for small vessels, boasts great antiquity, and in 1664 was the headquarters of the Parliamentarian forces in Cornwall.

Here, below Lostwithiel's ancient bridge, let us take boat and taste of the ineffable enjoyment which laureates of the Fowey have attributed to a sail or a row down the romantic stream to the mouth of the harbour, where the sailors sing their chanties as they work the merchantmen out between the old towers whence chains were stretched across the harbour in the stirring days when the Spaniard sailed the main. Sing hey, sing ho, for indeed life is worth living when the soft zephyrs blow, and we glide by the prettily placed church of St. Winnow, and catch the musical chiming of its melodious peal of bells. "Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm," our delight knows no surcease, but rather grows as, something less than three miles below the old Parliamentary borough, the banks open out, and we behold that daydream of scenic beauty, the sunlit reaches of the river winding away toward the sea. One branch of this estuary, by-the-by, flows to St. Veep, which has an interesting church. The Lerrin and St. Cadoc creeks yet further enrich a river which Nature has endowed with charms so abundant. Bodinnoc Ferry is a name to conjure with in yachting circles, since there is not one log among the many of the pleasure-boats that make for the "little Dartmouth" of the Far West in the height of summer but contains some fine compliment to the rare beauty of the view, landward and seaward, from this familiar tacking point. No wonder that Fowey Harbour shares with its Devonshire rival the generous tribute of sportsmen, who have lavished upon each of these picturesque ports effusive praise that has its point in the proud title of the "Yachtsman's Paradise." Long ere these pleasure-seeking days was the discovery of Fowey's possession of a safe and commodious harbour made: "The shippes of Fowey sayling by Rhie and Winchelsey, about Edward the III^{rd} tyme, would vayle no bonnet beying required, whereupon Rhie and Winchelsey men and they fought, when Fowie men had victorie, and thereupon bare their arms mixt with the arms of Rhie and Winchelsey, and then rose the name of the Gallants of Fowey." But Leland knew that they deserved the title long years before, as "the glorie of Fowey rose by the warres in King Edward I. and III. and Henry V.'s day, partly by feats of warre, partly by piracie, and so waxing rich fell all to merchandize."

Fowey took so naturally and keenly to the practice of piracy that the "gallants" had a little affair at sea with the French on their own account and against the King's treaty and commandment, in the reign of the fourth Edward, who appears not to have been well pleased, since he took the head of one of their number, imprisoned the captains, and sent men of Dartmouth down to seize their ships and remove the chain then drawn across the mouth of the haven. But the "gallants" were nothing daunted, and in the time of Charles II. their successors beat off eighty Dutch ships of war that, greatly daring, had chased a fleet of merchantmen into Fowey Harbour. St. Finbarrus, first Bishop of Cork, is said to have been buried in the church, which is dedicated to him, and is a handsome structure. Place House, the seat of the Treffry family, besides being a noble mansion, gloriously dight with very fine specimens of Cornish granite and porphyry, is of great historic interest. It was Elizabeth, wife of Thomas Treffry--an ancient statue of whom stands in the grounds--who, in the absence of her husband, headed his men and beat off the French in an assault on Place House in July, 1457.

* * * * *

Along its course of but twenty miles, four of which are tidal, the /Fal/ divides the county into two nearly equal parts. Fenton Fal, in Tregoss Moor, is the birthplace of the stream; and from the moorland it receives the tributary waters of many peaty rivulets before gaining entrance to the romantic vale of Treviscoe, which gives us a foretaste of that feast of the beautiful which the Fal affords in its lower reaches. Compared with what goes before and follows after, the course of the stream by Grampound (the Voluba of Ptolemy), through Creed valley, where it leaves Tregony on its left bank, and on to Ruan, is somewhat lacking in interest, and the river itself is of no great strength. Ere tin-streaming and the sandbanks had done their mischief, you might have reached Tregony on the top of the tide; nowadays the ebb and flow affect the river no farther than Ruan. Yet this has sufficed to gain for the Fal a glorious name. Perhaps the finest compliment ever paid to the river fell from royal lips. When the Queen, accompanied by the Prince Consort, made the trip down the Fal from Truro in 1864, she was visibly impressed with the beauty and splendour of the scenery, and particularly charmed with the view about Tregothnan. Her Majesty was reminded by it of the Rhine, but thought it almost finer where winding between woods of stunted oaks, and full of numberless creeks.

At Truro, the two little rivers, Kenwyn and Allen, flow through the city into a creek of the Fal, known as Truro river; the first-named separates St. Mary's from St. Paul's, while the second divides the parish of St. Mary from that of St. John. The little Kenwyn is "personally conducted" through the streets of the cathedral town by the Corporation, in open conduits, and forms a not unpleasant feature of the tiny city in Western Barbary whose inhabitants were once said to have a good conceit of themselves: "The people of this town dress and live so elegantly that the pride of Truro is become a by-word in the county." The most modern of our English cathedrals is a monument to the pious zeal, marvellous industry, and unquenchable enthusiasm of Dr. Benson, the first Bishop of Truro, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. The Prince of Wales laid the foundation stone in 1880, and its consecration took place seven years later. The style is Early English of the thirteenth century, and at present the cathedral but partially realises the ambitious design of the architect, who planned a very imposing edifice, which, in the event of its ultimate completion, must inevitably challenge comparison with the most notable of modern achievements in the Gothic. Already it possesses several splendid windows and many beautiful specimens of modern sculpture.

THE FAL FROM TOLVERNE (_p. 65_).]

The prettiest parts of our river lie between King Harry's Passage and Roseland. Below Tregothnan, where the Fal unites with the Truro river and St. Clement's creek, both shores are beautifully clothed with wood, and the fine expanse of water at high tide lends a nobility and magnificence to the scene which affords ample occasion for the high-flown descriptions and lavish praise bestowed upon the Fal. On the right are the grounds of Trelissick; and a picturesque glimpse of the stream may be caught near the estuary called Malpas Road, by the ferry at Tolverne. After dividing Mylor from St. Just, the river loses its identity in forming Carrick Road, and shortly expands into the splendid haven of Falmouth Harbour. The inner part, between Trefusis Point, Pendennis, and the town, is called King's Road. Carrick Road, where the river enters, forms the middle of the harbour, and midway between the entrance--which is from Pendennis Point to St. Anthony's Head--there lies the ominously-named Black Rock, around which the Mayor of Truro sailed in June, 1709, when he sought to exercise jurisdiction over the port and harbour of Falmouth. But the citizens of the port themselves had had a powerful friend at Court, in the person of King Charles II., who had given Falmouth a charter overriding the ancient claims of Truro, by which the Mayor of the latter town had levied dues on all goods laden or unladen in any part of the Fal, from Truro to the Black Rock; and a trial at law in the same year finally established home rule in Falmouth Harbour.

FALMOUTH HARBOUR.]

Though to-day its prosperity is scarcely commensurate with its natural advantages, the harbour still remains almost unrivalled. First port of call for homeward-bound vessels, with a depth of water and safe anchorage that many another harbour might envy, and sheltered from all the winds that blow save those from the south-south-east, it is so capacious that the whole British fleet could ride at anchor in its waters. Falmouth as a town owes its existence to these striking features of its harbour. Beholding them, it struck the shrewd sons of the House of Killigrew, Lords of Arwenack (there is an Arwenack Street to this day), who flourished in the time of James I., that there was no earthly reason why vessels should go seven miles to Truro, or two miles to Penryn, for a port when an infinitely better one might be created at the very mouth of the harbour. Vested interests, as represented by the communities of Truro, Penryn, and Helston, offered stout opposition. But the silver-tongued Lords of Arwenack prevailed in the argument before King James, and it was not long ere Falmouth was the first port in Cornwall. Its great era of prosperity exemplifies the adage that it's an ill wind that blows nobody good, for, during our wars with the French, Falmouth became a mail packet station, and flourished exceedingly on "Government service."

It was the boast of proud Falmouthians that a hundred vessels could ride in the creeks of Falmouth Harbour and yet that no two should be in sight of each other. How this might be may be understood in part when it is explained that, besides many smaller arms, there are five principal creeks. Of these branches not the least is that which was probably the earliest used, to Penryn; there is a second to Restronguet and Perranarworthal; a third, also of ancient use, to Truro and Tresillian Bridge; a fourth running up to St. Mawes and Gerrans; and the fifth and greatest, to King Harry's Reach, toward Tregony, which is the main stream of our Fal.

/Hugh W. Strong./

FALMOUTH, FROM FLUSHING.]

THE PARRET AND THE LOWER AVON.

The /Parret/: Its Source--Muchelney Abbey--The
Tone and Taunton--Athelney Island and Alfred the
Great--Sedgemoor--Bridgewater--Burnham. The /Lower Avon/: Escourt
Park--Malmesbury--Chippenham--Melksham--Bradford-on-Avon--Bath--The
Frome--Beau Nash--Bridges at Bath--The Abbey Church--Bristol--St.
Mary Redcliffe and Chatterton--The Cathedral--"The Chasm"--Clifton
Suspension Bridge--The Lower Reaches--Avonmonth.

Of the even, placid course of the /Parret/ one sententious writer has said, "There is nothing remarkable in it, the country being flat." A spark of imagination and the merest glimmering of historic interest would have spared us this dull commonplace. Surely the stream which saw the dawn of intellect in England, which witnessed the very beginnings of our modern civilisation, which watered the self-same mead where walked the first royal patron of learning that the country boasted, is notable, even if it does not attain to higher rank among our English rivers.

The Parret--Pedred of the Saxon Chronicle--is not of native Somerset birth, since it has its uprising a mile over the southern boundary, at Cheddington Copse, in the Dorsetshire parish of South Perrott. Flowing in a south-easterly direction, by Crewkerne and the Dorsetshire border, its basin occupies that portion of the Bridgwater Level lying between the Mendips and the Quantock Hills. At Crewkerne we have wide glimpses of its broad green valley, the busy little market town itself rising in the midst of the natural amphitheatre formed by the distant, unpretentious hills, lying low, like shadows on the horizon. The fine cruciform church of St. Bartholomew, whose only real rival among Somersetshire churches is that at Ilminster, in precisely the same style of architecture, occupies a pleasant situation westward of the river.

The ruins of Muchelney Abbey rise above the marshy banks of the river in the hamlet bearing the same name, which the ancient chronicler would have us accept as a facile corruption of "Muckle Eye," or Great Island. Of Athelstan's Abbey there are but scant remains, though these are most suggestive of a structure of imposing size and great architectural interest and beauty. By the interesting little town of Langport the dividing hills are broken, and the Parret receives the waters of the Isle from the left, and of the Yeo (so common a river name, with its obvious derivation), or Ivel, from the right. Swollen by these tributaries, the Parret's lazy waters now creep on under a bridge which unites the banks that marked the limits of the dominions of the Belgic and Danmonian tribes.

Hereabouts we do indeed appear to be at the very beginnings of English history, for but a little below the confluence, at Aller, the Danish king, Guthrum, is said to have received the rite of baptism in the river, his conqueror, Alfred the Great, magnanimously standing sponsor to the fallen foe; whilst eight centuries later a fiercer warrior, filled with zeal for what he conceived to be his righteous cause--Fairfax, to wit--routed the Royalist forces, giving no quarter, as he had asked none. Before we take up the other thread of the historical tale, there is the Tone to be reckoned with. Born in a bog on the Brendon Hills, this most important of the affluents of the Parret is seen at its greatest in the picturesque vale of Taunton Dean. Imparting its name to the handsome town of Taunton, it passes at least one splendid specimen of ecclesiastical architecture in St. Mary's Church, which rears its lofty tower in the midst of a delightful neighbourhood, of which Taunton is the attractive capital.

Below the hill-top village of Boroughbridge the Tone joins forces with the Parret, and in the slack water at their confluence rises that little plot of ground made for ever sacred in English eyes by reason of its being the remote retreat of Alfred the Great when he sought to escape the slings and arrows of outrageous Fortune. Hurrying thither from his fierce enemies, the Danes--and, if the fable is in the least to be trusted, from the equally-to-be-feared anger of the neatherd's wife--he found a peaceful haven, where he might heal him of his wounds, recruit his resources, and lay his plans for the meditated rally. And so, by bold forays from this natural stronghold, he regained the confidence of his adherents, won over the waverers, and paved the way for his eventual triumph over the pagan foe and the complete recovery of his power.

To the honour of St. Saviour and St. Peter, his patron saints, the pious hero of Athelney raised a monastery on the island, where, in their holy orisons, the monks chanted the praises of the God who had so confused the heathen by the shores of the river that stayed its course and stagnated where the reeds and rushes caught the water-sprite, heavy with sleep, in their toils. Barely two acres in William of Malmesbury's day, yet covered by "a forest of alders of vast extent"(!), the historic spot is now known as Athelney Farm, a stone pillar telling its great story in this concise inscription: "King Alfred the Great, in the year of our Lord 879, having been defeated by the Danes, fled for refuge to the Forest of Athelney, where he lay concealed from his enemies for the space of a whole year. He soon after regained possession of his throne; and, in grateful remembrance of the protection he had received under the favour of Heaven, he erected a monastery on the spot, and endowed it with all the lands contained in the Isle of Athelney. To perpetuate the memory of so remarkable an incident in the history of the illustrious prince, this edifice was founded by John Slade, Esq., of Maunsell, the proprietor of Athelney, and lord of the manor of North Petherton, /A.D./ 1801."

MALMESBURY ABBEY (_p. 72_).]

History in its heroic elements still clings to Parret's banks, for, as the river flows on near Weston-Zoyland, washing the parish on the south and south-west, Sedgemoor, the Duke of Monmouth's fatal field, comes into view, and one looks upon the scene of what in Macaulay's words was "the last fight deserving the name of a battle that has been fought on English ground." Emerging from the marsh of Sedgemoor, the Parret now takes upon itself the new office of patron and benefactor of populous, busy Bridgwater, two miles to the south-west of "Sowyland." It is the river which at ebb and flood tide deposits that peculiar sediment of clay and sand that goes to make "the Bath brick," of which product Bridgwater has the monopoly. But why "Bath"? Well, presumably, because the best market for the brick was originally found in Beau Nash's town, with the result that it eventually became the principal centre of trading in the commodity. From half a mile above to half a mile below the three-arched bridge which Walter de Briwere--the first of that ilk--commenced, and Sir Thomas Trivet completed, in the reign of Edward I., the brickworks stretch, giving employment to a large number of hands, and forming a source of considerable revenue.

The current which nearly overwhelmed General Fairfax in Bridgwater's stirring days of 1645 is said to advance with such rapidity and boldness on the Parret as to rise no less than two fathoms on one wave. But, judging from the statement of another authority, this must be but a moderate estimate of the dimensions to which the bore occasionally attains, since it is asserted that the upright wave-phenomenon of the Parret has repeatedly reached nine feet in height! This much, however, is positively ascertained--that spring-tides in the Bristol Channel rise a full 36 feet at the mouth of the Parret.

King John gave Bridgwater its charter in 1200, but the Briwere family, one of whom began the building of the great bridge over the Parret, were the real founders of the town and the actual authors of its commercial prosperity. The most striking landmark in the birthplace of Admiral Blake, the great Republican commander, whose glorious achievement it was to defeat the "invincible" Van Tromp, is the tall tower and fine spire of the parish church of St. Mary, 174 feet in height, and, therefore, one of the loftiest in England. A splendid altar-piece, said to have been taken from a Spanish privateer, is one of the features of the church.

Six miles from the sea at Bridgwater, the Parret, as if loth to lose its individuality, lingers in the rich valley, doubling the distance by its circuitous course to the Bristol Channel. At Burnham, just before the Severn Sea claims them, its waters are still further swollen by those of the Brue, a considerable stream, which, like the Parret, has a wealth of historical association, and is of some commercial significance. To the wharves at Highbridge, above Burnham, vessels of many tons burthen are borne by the tide; here also are the gates and sluice-locks of the Glastonbury canal navigation. Then the united streams fall into that part of the Bristol Channel which is known as Bridgwater Bay. A few miles to the north the Axe indolently pours into Uphill Bay the waters which it has brought from the flanks of the Mendips, where it runs a subterranean course some two miles long before issuing forth in a copious flood from Wookey Hole--a cavern famous for the prehistoric treasures which it has yielded to the explorer--to flow through a picturesque glen, and presently to drain the level plains of West Somerset.

* * * * *

Watering three counties, to the scenic interest and beauty of each of which it lends an infinitude of charms, the /Lower Avon/ is not to be measured for its importance by its length (seventy-five miles), since there are far longer streams that one would willingly exchange for half the romantic valleys and the rich country of this river, which has its source in a piece of ornamental water at Escourt Park, in the neighbourhood of Great Thurston, where the boundaries of Wiltshire and Gloucestershire almost meet.

Distinction is immediately given to the stream. Just below the village it enters the grounds of Pinckney House, and after it has passed Eastongrey and a dozen little thorpes, the river claims proud association with historic Malmesbury--the British Caer Bladon, and the Anglo-Saxon Ingelburne--which it enters on the west. This ancient town stands on the ridge of a narrow hill, sloping down steeply on its southern and northern sides, and is nearly surrounded by two streams which, uniting at its southern extremity, form the Avon. On the highest point of the ridge are seen the ruins of the famous Malmesbury Abbey, which once covered forty-five acres of ground. Leland, writing in the time of Henry VIII., described it as a "right magnificent thing." The present remains are small; but the south porch is one of the finest specimens of Norman work in the country. A portion of the structure is still used as a church. Another notable feature of the town in which William of Malmesbury, the historian, was educated, is a quaint fifteenth-century market-cross, to which also Leland gave none but honest praise when he styled it "a righte faire piece of worke." Malmesbury--which, by the way, was the birthplace of "Leviathan" Hobbes--has been built on the peninsula between the Tetbury stream, flowing down from the Gloucestershire town, and the first beginnings of the Avon, which here accepts its earliest tributary.

THE AVON NEAR TETBURY.]

Bending southward at Somerford, another branch is caught up, this subsidiary stream hailing from the neighbourhood of Wootton Bassett. By this time the Avon has become no mean river, and in its course by Dauntsey and Seagry to woody Christian Malford it forms a very prominent feature in the fine landscape that may be viewed from the high hill to the eastward, on the summit of which stood Bradenstoke Priory, now converted to the use--we will not say ignoble--of a comfortable farmhouse. Fast gathering its supplementary forces, the Avon after passing Kellaways and before reaching Chippenham welcomes the waters of the Marlan. Chippenham, pleasant in itself, but made still more interesting by reason of its surroundings in the fertile valley, is well nigh compassed about by the Avon, which here is a clear stream and of sweet savour. Later in its history it may deserve the description of a dark and deep river, except where shallows interfere. In its lower reaches it will be largely affected in colour by storms, Wiltshire floods tinging it with the whitish hue of the chalk hills, and the Somersetshire rains with the red of the ochre beds. But here it is a placid, pleasant stream, which makes a bold sweep round the environs of the town, driving its mill-wheels and lending that dignity and interest which a river peculiarly affords.

BRADFORD-ON-AVON CHURCH, FROM THE NORTH EAST (_p. 74_).]

Hitherto the Avon's gliding way has lain by the low-lying dairy lands of North Wiltshire, through peaceful pastoral scenes, its banks clothed with the brightest flowers of the field, and here and there shaded with willows and elms, But now, beyond Chippenham, it embarks upon the chequered and romantic phase of its career. The country becomes more hilly directly we near the clothing district of Wiltshire. For a short space the Avon renders the useful service of a boundary, effectually dividing Wilts and Somerset. The scenery of Chippenham Vale, through which the river flows on to Melksham, Trowbridge, and Bradford--a trio of interesting towns, each watered by the same stream--is extremely beautiful.

Melksham, a town of one long principal street, is flanked by rich meadows, through which meanders the Avon. The quaint, old-fashioned houses are built on the acclivity of an eminence which may fairly be ascribed to the river's wearing work through the ages; and the inhabitants are not without reason proud of their handsome four-arched bridge.

Again there comes a season of increase, in which the river gains, from this source and that, a considerable addition to its volume. At Broughton Gifford a brook by that name surrenders to the brimming river from the west, whilst from the east enters the Whaddon streamlet. Then, again, near Staverton the little Biss joineth the great Avon. So our river swells with importance as it approaches romantic Bradford-on-Avon. The name of this town--from the "broad ford" over the river--is by no means its only indebtedness to the Avon, for the highly picturesque situation of Leland's "clooth-making" centre is entirely the outcome of Nature's handiwork. Immediately on the north side of the river a hill abruptly rises, and it is on the brow and along the sloping declivity of this eminence that most of the tastefully-designed dwellings have been erected. The deep and hollow valley of the Avon now extends between two ranges, the hills here and there richly wooded to their summits; and pretty villages have scattered themselves along these bold acclivities.

Bradford-on-Avon Church is of considerable interest, and is remarkable for the success of its highly sympathetic restoration by Canon Jones, the vicar, a distinguished archæologist. Two bridges here cross the Avon; the most ancient, in the centre of the town, being described by Aubrey, two centuries since, as "a strong handsome bridge, in the midst of which is a chapel for Mass." Bradford gained its original eminence in the woollen trade mainly from the introduction of "spinners" from Holland in the seventeenth century, and lost it with the development of the greater Bradford of the North, in the midst of the coalfields.

Before, following the more impetuous course of the now considerable river, we quit Bradford and its seductive scenes, the peculiar loveliness of the valley of the Avon in the vicinity of the town, and more particularly at such fascinating spots as Freshfield, Limpley Stoke--just where the river leaves Wiltshire and enters Somerset--and Claverton, to name but a few, must be remarked upon. Then Bladud's creation, "Queen of all the Spas in the World," "City of the Waters of the Sun," "Queen of the West," "King of the Spas," gives greeting to the noble river that plays so great a part in the beautification of the historic city lying at the foot of the valley of the Avon, whence it has grown up its steep banks. Below Bradford the Frome has become a tributary of the Avon, bringing, besides its goodly stream, many most interesting reminiscences of its course. After flowing through the lower part of the agreeably situated town to which it gives its name, the Frome adds its charms to the manifold attractions of the scenery of Vallis Bottom. Just half a mile beyond the time-worn Priory of Hinton, which rears its ivy-clad tower amidst a grove of venerable oaks, Frome merges itself in the Avon.

As if Nature were here conspiring to make the river worthy of the city of "Bladud, eighth in descent from Brutus," at Bathford the Avon receives the Box brook, from the vale of that name in Wiltshire, and, after a loop to the west, is joined at Batheaston by another small stream, the Midford, which has enhanced the romantic interest of the Vale of Claverton; whilst a third brook descends from the heights of Lansdowne, the fatal battlefield of Sir Basil Grenville and his Cornish friends, who lost their lives for the Parliamentary cause under the ill-starred leadership of Sir William Waller.

Approaching the city of "Beau Nash" from the east, and passing between Bathwick and Bath proper, the Avon washes "Aqua Solis" (or "Sulis") of the Romans on the south, and plays its part in the fair scene which, "viewed under the influence of a meridian sun, and through the medium of an unclouded atmosphere, presents to sight and imagination everything that is united with the idea of perfect beauty." And yet, with all the natural advantages of its situation, Bath long awaited the touch of the wand of the modern magician--the man of enterprise and speculation. There lay the deep romantic valley, gloriously encircled by the triple band of splendid hills--towering Lansdowne to the north, 813 feet above the sea; Claverton and Bathwick to the east, some 600 and 400 feet in height respectively; with Beechen Cliff, Sham Castle, Camden Crescent, and Lansdowne Crescent, all fine natural view-points, below. Compare with the Bath of to-day the overgrown village to the practical government of which the famous Beau Nash succeeded in 1704, when he followed the notorious gambler, Captain Webster, as Master of the Ceremonies, and you have some idea of the miracle of change and growth which has been performed. It was after the death of Beau Nash that the city, waxing great, extended its borders to Bathwick, on the country side of the river. Towards the close of the seventeenth century, private munificence caused a bridge to be thrown across the river, and Bathwick itself, from being a daisied meadowland, became a thickly populated suburb. And even the bridge thus built was shortly occupied with rows of dwelling houses and shops, so that the connection between Bath and Bathwick was complete. Long prior to the building of this, the Poulteney bridge--nearly five centuries before, in point of fact--the Avon was crossed by the St. Lawrence's, or the Old Bridge, as it is now usually called. Originally built in 1304, it became a prey to the fever of building speculation which had marked the career of the elder Wood, of the famous family of Bath architects. Out of date, and, we may presume, somewhat out of repair also, it was rebuilt in 1754. The Poulteney Bridge, crossing to Bathwick, followed in 1769; and half a century's growth of the popular lower suburb revealing the need for further means of communication that would relieve the congested traffic, the Bathwick, or Cleveland, Bridge was added in 1827. Some years later the North Parade Bridge was built. With the advent of the iron horse there had, by this time, arisen a newer necessity still. In comparatively rapid succession the Midland Railway and the Skew Bridge--which justifies its name by the remarkable angle at which it crosses the Avon--with three suspension bridges and a foot-passengers' bridge near the station, have followed.

THE AVON AT BATH.]

Bath boasts at least one ecclesiastical structure of great interest, in the "Lantern of England," as the tower of the Abbey Church has been styled, because of the unusual number and size of its windows. In the exceptional height of the clerestory and the oblong shape of the tower, the church is also distinguished from the general.

Out by the Western Gate the Avon runs, with Holloway Hill and Beechen Cliff conspicuous landmarks on its left. By Twerton--"the town on the banks of the Avon"--there are large cloth-mills on the riverside, relics of the monastic industries established by the monks of Bath so far back as the fourteenth century. Fielding Terrace, in this town, is the reputed neighbourhood of the residence of the novelist, who is said to have written a part of "Tom Jones" during his stay.

Now the Avon is in its beloved valley, deep and green again. Three miles, or a little more, from the city, a beautiful circling knoll seems to shut in the vale. The hill is crowned with a handsome house, and ornamented with woodland and lawn. Kelston Round Hill, as this impressive eminence is called, is 730 feet above the sea-level, the Avon winding at its foot and the ascending groves of Newton Park reaching to the fine prospect and the highest hill in this part of Somerset. Ere, at this point, we bid a reluctant adieu to the beauties of Bath, it should be pointed out that in most of the commanding and delightful views obtainable from all the vantage points in and about the city the Avon and its fertile valley conspicuously figure, heightening the interest of each entrancing scene. It is no exaggeration to say that the neighbourhood of Bath is rife with scenic charms. The cliffs, ravines, and deep excavations in the strata lend endless variety to the landscape, which is finely compact of hill, vale, rock, wood and water, the striking beauties of the Avon's course ever and anon lending a crowning grace to the view.

Below Kelston the more expanded vale of the Keynsham Hams succeeds. Flowing round this rich tract of land, the Avon becomes the dividing line between Gloucester and Somerset. Just beyond, within the parish of Keynsham, and midway between the sister cities of Bath and Bristol, the waters of yet another tributary, the Chow, a stream which has come down from the north side of the Mendip Hills, are gathered up.

Contracted in its channel for more than a mile between lofty rocks at Hanham, the Avon, emerging from its straitened circumstances, diverts itself with the strikingly sinuous course which it then follows between Brislington and St. George's, ere it is sobered and dignified by its contact with the traditional Caer Oder, "the City of the Chasm," the birthplace of Sebastian Cabot, of Southey, and of Chatterton. Before the river begins to be tidal, it has another, perhaps its greatest, recruit in the Lower Frome. After a picturesque course, the Frome washes the Bishop's Palace at Stapleton, enters Bristol, and there loses itself in the Lower Avon.

Between modern Bristol and the great port of the "spacious times" the difference is one of degree only, for the commercial spirit is still strong in the sons of Cabot and Canynge; and, amid the thick smoke that overhangs the very centre of the city, there rise e'en to-day the tall spars, fluttering pennons, and the rigging of the ships of the mercantile marine that made the name of the opulent city known in every port and on every sea, and brought to Bristol by the tidal river the trade that trimmed her sails to the breeze of fortune and set her course fair on the voyage to fame and prosperity. One of the earliest chapters of the history of the city is connected with the river. It records the building of the first bridge over the Avon in 1247, an undertaking mentioned in a charter of Henry II. This bridge united the city with what was then the suburb of Redcliffe. To-day, this association is splendidly preserved by that golden historical link, the "finest and stateliest parish church in England," as Queen Elizabeth pronounced the edifice of St. Mary Redcliffe on her visit to Bristol in 1753. The style is the Early English, though the richly sculptured northern doorway and some other portions belong rather to the Decorated Period. The structure was founded about the year 1300, but was enlarged, beautified, and, in fact, refounded by William Canynge, whose effigy, with that of his wife Joan, will be found at the end of the south transept. The upper part of the stone steeple was struck down by lightning in 1445, and not rebuilt for upwards of four hundred years. It was in the muniment room of this church that young Thomas Chatterton professed to have found a number of curious MSS. in prose and poetry, the boy-poet's ingenious deception long escaping detection. Such success, which might never have attended the confessed productions of his own precocious genius, gave the gifted lad of seventeen the necessary stimulus, and his growing ambition led him to London, where he became a mere literary hack, and took a life threatened by starvation. A handsome monument in St. Mary Redcliffe churchyard pays Bristol's tribute to her great, but unhappy, son. Of St. Mary Redcliffe, the "pride of Bristowe," Camden said it was "the most elegant of all the parish churches I have ever seen."

The present bridge replaced the thirteenth-century causeway in 1768. It was in 1247 that the course of the Frome was diverted to a new channel. Anciently, the city boundaries were the two confluent rivers which environed it with a natural defence on all sides save one, where a castle stood, protected by a broad deep moat supplied with water from the Frome, which at that time flowed by its northern walls. In Bristol Castle the son of the Conqueror, Robert, was shut up by his brother Henry.

Though it has been justly said of the Cathedral that it is remarkable neither for antiquity nor beauty, being far inferior to St. Mary Redcliffe in at least one of these respects, the Berkeley chapel, forming the north aisle of the choir, is worthy of note as an elegant example of Early English. The spacious nave, with side aisles and clerestory in the Early Decorated style, is a modern addition. Among the animated busts are those of Joseph Butler, of "Analogy" fame--one of Bristol's famous line of bishops, two of whom were of the "glorious company" of seven--Robert Southey, and the "Dorcas" of the city, Miss Mary Carpenter.

In 1809 our river became a fellow-sufferer with the Frome. The course of the Avon lay through the city, but now a new channel was dug for it on the south side, leaving the river to fall into its original bed at Rownham Ferry. For the rest, the old channels of both the Frome and the Avon were converted into a fine floating harbour, which, at Cumberland Basin, will accommodate some of the largest vessels afloat.

"The Chasm" itself, or, as it is more familiarly known, the Gorge of the Avon, lying just below the Basin, is bridged by a triumph of modern engineering art. The Clifton Suspension Bridge--our English "Bridge of Sighs" for suicides--admits to a magnificent view of the Avon where it flows through the romantic defile of St. Vincent's Rocks. As the story runs, St. Vincent, a rival, caught the Giant Goram asleep, and once and for ever determined the course of the river by cleaving the ravine through which the Avon now runs to the sea. Brunel's Bridge, after a remarkably chequered history--its construction being actually suspended for a period of nearly thirty years!--was completed for the visit of the British Association in 1864. The foundations had been laid in 1836. The chains of Hungerford Suspension Bridge at Charing Cross were taken down and here re-hung. The centre span--one of the longest in the world--is 676 feet in extent, and the entire length of the bridge is 1,352 feet. Fifteen hundred tons in weight, the stupendous structure is a wonderful combination of strength and grace, adding a new interest and beauty to the impressive view rather than detracting from its great natural charm.

BRISTOL, FROM THE SITE OF THE OLD DRAWBRIDGE ACROSS THE HARBOUR.]

When "Cook's Folly" and the "Pitch and Pay" gate, of mournful memory, have been passed, and we have reached Sea Mills on the right bank, there is a distinct softening in the character of the scenery. Here is the supposed site of the Roman station Abona. The Avon at this point is joined by the small river Trym. Leland, having the St. Vincent legends clearly in remembrance, wrote of it: "Some think a great piece of the depeness of the haven, from St. Vincent to Hungo-rode, hath been made by hande." As we pass Pill, which furnishes pilots for the port of Bristol, its ancient fish-like smell forces itself upon our attention. Now we near the last reach of the Avon, Broad Pill, where the river widens greatly. Sinuous as well may be, and running between low banks, those "sea-walls" of rich marshland that lie about Birchampton, the river's course beyond that pretty neighbourhood changes fast, and gathers a new and picturesque interest when the tide comes in. Now we are at the mouth of the Avon, and in that fine roadstead which the loyal Bristol seamen would have styled King's Road.

From the decks of the great ships that here ride out the light gale in safety a glorious view, up river, along shore, and about the fine anchorage in the estuary of the Avon and the Severn, may be enjoyed. The pier and docks at Avonmouth form another splendid enterprise, which, if it has not come too late, may retain for Bristol something more than a remnant of its ancient glory as the first port of the kingdom, a training ground for the British Navy, the haunt and home of sea-dogs who added many a gallant deed to the proud annals of our island story.

/Hugh W. Strong./

THE SEVERN