CHAPTER XII

ROUND DUNKERY

West of Lee Abbey and Duty Point lies much that is interesting, but this is also true of the country to the east of Lynton. For the moment we mount the coach with the intention of making a circuitous return to Dulverton. The writer does not forget his first experience of North Devon coaching. The placards showed four noble steeds, full of fettle and the joy of life; but “galled jades” would better have described the aspect of the miserable brutes condemned to drag the trunk-laden vehicle up those frightful ascents. Once on the summit, however, the going was easy, and passengers resumed their seats with a safe conscience, so far as cruelty to animals was concerned.

The drive from Lynton to Porlock, and from Porlock to Minehead, over breezy commons or through entrancing sylvan scenery, is gloriously exhilarating, and might put heart into the most confirmed dyspeptic. Which reminds me that in the neighbourhood of Porlock and Minehead there used to be gathered from the rocks vast quantities of laver, which was pickled and exported to large centres, such as Bristol, Exeter, and London. This sea-liverwort was eaten at the tables of the rich as a great delicacy. The hills and heaths also minister to the palate, since they produce various sorts of wild fruit--the dwarf juniper, the cranberry, and the whortleberry. The last, a most delicious fruit, is often made into pies, and the writer, when staying in the neighbourhood, is always glad if he finds one before him, knowing that he can command instant popularity, especially with the fair, by suggesting a second helping. Other bipeds appreciate it no less, since it is the summer food of the black game, and the decrease in the number of the species on the Brendon and Quantock hills has been attributed to the great demand for this fruit in the large towns. The berries grow singly, like gooseberries, the little plants being from a foot to eighteen inches in height. The leaves are ovated, and of a pale green colour.

Porlock and Porlock Weir are both charming places. Perhaps the most memorable object at the former--if the epithet may be applied to an object rather than a speech or event--is the old Ship Inn at the foot of the hill. This quaint survival of an older day is closely associated with the poet Southey, who used to wander thus far from his home on the Quantocks; and in the parlour, on the right of the main entrance, is a nook still known as “Southey’s Corner,” where he is said to have indited his sonnets and other poetry on the landscapes he so warmly admired.

“Porlock, thy verdant vale so fair to sight Thy lofty hills, which fern and furze embrown, Thy waters that roll musically down, Thy woody glens the traveller with delight Recalls to memory,” etc.

Then there is the church with its spire, which, if not beautiful, is at least peculiar, being faced with wooden shales. Opinions differ as to whether or not it was once of superior altitude, but tradition alleges that in the year 1700, a great storm arose and the tower suffered. Porlock tradition possesses unusual claims to respect, the reason being that it has been proved, in one instance at least, to be remarkably accurate. In the preface of his excellent _History of the Ancient Church of Porlock_, the late Prebendary Hook, alluding to the great monument, observes: “There had always been a tradition handed down from sexton to sexton, that the effigies were those of Lord Harington and his wife, the Lady of Porlock. But neither Collinson, the historian of Somerset, nor Savage, in his _History of the Hundred of Carhampton_, knew anything of it, and the former speaks of it as the tomb of a Knight Templar, though he does not explain how a wife happened to be there! But investigation proved the truth of the tradition, as is shown in the beautifully illustrated volume entitled _The Porlock Monuments_, now, unfortunately, out of print.”

It may be worth recalling that one of Miss Ida Browne’s relics is an old flint-lock pistol, engraved midway between stock and barrel with the name “C. Doone,” whilst on the reverse side is the word “Porlok.” Miss Browne is in some doubt as to whether the weapon was purchased in the village, or a C. Doone resided there, but she inclines to the latter opinion.

Porlock served as market town for the Ridds; indeed, it was in returning from Porlock market that Ridd’s father was murdered (_Lorna Doone_,