for an afternoon, and we are promising ourselves the pleasure of coming again for a whole day, as Walter reports the Doone stronghold most interesting. The foundations of some of the huts are still to be seen, and although the entrance is not defended, as Blackmore described it, by "a fence of sheer rock and rough arches, jagged, black and terrible," this side-valley, shut in by bleak moorland hills, is quite weird enough to excite "an imagination less active than Zelphine's." The last words, in quotes, as you may notice, are Walter's, who claims that I have a monopoly of this faculty to the exclusion of the rest of the family.

We drove home by another route, stopping at Oare church where Lorna and John were married. As it stands to-day, the church is quaint and interesting, although considerably enlarged and disappointingly modern in some of its appointments. A heavy arch or screen of dark wood separates the newer part of the building from the tiny chapel, before whose altar John Ridd and Lorna stood when the sound of a shot followed the parson's blessing, and the bride in her bright beauty fell bleeding at her husband's feet.

The little girls were so excited by our talk of the tragic wedding that we had to explain to

them that the valiant John pursued his enemy, Carver Doone, overcame him, and had the satisfaction of seeing him sink into the black bog of the Wizard's Slough near by.

"And the bride, did she get alive again?" asked Lisa, knowing well that a story has no right to end in sorrow.

"Yes," said Walter, gravely, "which was less difficult as she was not at any time really dead, although her wedding dress was quite ruined, and she was never able to wear it at family parties; but John bought her another dress quite as good, and they lived ever after in great happiness and peace, with never a Doone in all the country to molest or make them afraid."

The drive home by Countisbury, with the Sillery Sands and the sea, on one side, and the downs, purple with heather, on the other, was so delightful that we were loath to quit the headland road and descend the long hill to Lynmouth. Here the driver insisted upon dumping us, explaining with perfect satisfaction to himself, if not to us, that the Lynton hill was quite too steep for his horses with so heavy a load, and that it was customary for travellers to use the lift.

We naturally scorned the lift as an inglorious

way of ending an afternoon of ideal beauty and charm, and slowly made our way up the steep hill-side by the pretty vine-covered cottage where Shelley and his Harriet lived for a short time after their return from Ireland.

By the time we reached the top of the hill the western sky was brilliant in an afterglow of crimson and gold, while the vast mass of Castle Rock, in the shadow, stood out dark, rugged and menacing, like the fortress of a robber chieftain, or the very fastness of the Doones themselves.

August 29th.

Dr. McIvor appeared early this morning. How he came we do not know, as there was no train arriving about that time. He probably walked part of the way, as he is a famous walker. I was upstairs; but Angela and Christine happened to be in the hall, and when we came downstairs we found them, all three, waiting to go into breakfast with us. Angela is really treating the Doctor quite civilly, and has gone with him to explore the Valley of Rocks, very discreetly taking the children with her. We are planning to have a whole day to-morrow in Dooneland, where Walter and the Doctor are hoping to have some fishing in the Badgeworthy or in one of the other waters thereabout.