The timber of the gallows tree,
Most gladly would I furnish,
And give a rope of crimson tape,
To hang up all Attornies.

A gaol I'd build on purpose,

And Hare should be the turnkey,
With licence and authority

For burking each Attorney.

That subject for anatomy,

No friends ye'd have to mourn ye,
And all the world should deem it fair
To cut up-an Attorney.

When I awake from slumber,

My first prayer in the morn is,
Oh help me from the devil, Lord,-
And still more from Attornies.

And when at night I go to bed,
It always my concern is,
To finish with a bumper toast,
Damnation to Attornies.

Then I will lead a pious life,

And when to die my turn is,
May my soul find a resting place,

Where there are no Attornies.

After many years enjoyment of sport on Dartmoor and its vicinity Mr. Templer retired; but those of his friends who, being assembled at Chulmleigh, I believe, with that keen sportsman, the Hon. Newton Fellowes, in the chair, and who had the privilege of hearing him recite his farewell poem, addressed to his "Old Horn," will never forget it :

MY OLD HORN.

Though toil hath somewhat worn thy frame,

And time hath marred thy beauty;

Come forth, lone relic of my fame,

Thou well hast done thy duty.

Time was when other tongues would praise

Thy wavering notes of pleasure;

Now, miser-like, alone I gaze
On thee-a useless treasure.

Some hearts may prize thy music still,
But, ah! how changed the story;
Since first Devonia felt the thrill,
That roused her sporting glory.

Grace still in every vale abounds,
But one dear charm is wanting;
No more I hear my gallant hounds
In chorus blithely chanting.

And there my steed has found a rest,
Beneath the mountain heather;

That oft, like comrades sworn, we've prest-
In pleasure's train together.

And some who at thy call would wake,

Hath friendship long been weeping;
A shriller note than thine must break
Their deep and dreamless sleeping.

I, too, the fading wreath resign,

For friends and fame are fleeting;
Around his bolder brow to twine,

Where younger blood is beating.

Henceforth be mute, my treasured horn,
Since time hath marred thy beauty;

And I, like thee, by toil am worn,

We both have done our duty.

When Mr. Templer had finished this "farewell" to his "old horn," there was not a dry eye to be seen in all the company of stalwart sportsmen, most of whom are gone to that "bourne from whence no traveller returns."

The tourist, as I have said, can reach Dartmoor from many convenient points. The branch line of railway from Newton Abbot to Moreton passes through some of the loveliest scenery in Devonshire: Lustleigh Cleeve, near which is Becky Fall, Bovey, and Manaton.

*This was an allusion to his successor, Sir Walter Carew.

Then there is Bowerman's Nose which, seen from the latter village, resembles a huge human head. Carrington thus graphically describes it :—

On the very edge

Of the vast moorland, startling every eye
A shape enormous rises! High it towers
Above the hill's bold brow, and seen from far
Assumes the human form; a granite god-
To whom, in days long flown, the suppliant knee
In trembling homage bow'd. The hamlets near
Have legends rude connected with the spot,

(Wild swept by every wind) on which he stands
The Giant of the Moor.

Houndtor, one of the most famous tors on the Moor,
is not far from Manaton. Further on, on the south-
eastern frontier, is Heytor, sacred to pic-nic parties
who come, in Summer time, from Ashburton, Newton
Abbot, Torquay, and other places. This picturesque
tor, "being at the head of a wide expanse of declivities,"
commands one of the finest views to be seen from any
point of the Moor. Rowe, in his "Perambulations,"
truthfully says that Heytor-"which rises from the
brow of the hill with sombre grandeur in two distinct
piles, when viewed from the neighbourhood of
Kingsteignton, and other adjacent lowlands, under the
influence of a sullen and cloudy sky, presents a singu-
larly accurate resemblance to a ruined castle." Not
far off from Heytor is Rippon Tor, from which the
beautiful and romantic valley of Widdicombe-in-the-
Moor may be seen. A quarter of a mile distant from
this tor, on the summit of a ridge. is a pile, called
the "Nutcrackers," once, it is said, a logan stone.
It does not, however,
is an ancient moorland town; and here, as at Chag-
ford, good accommodation for man and beast"
may be had. On foot, or on a fleet little moorland
pony, a number of interesting places on the Moor may
be conveniently reached From Chagford we may
explore the valley of the Teign-one of the most beau-

66

"log now. Moreton

tiful rivers in the county. A ramble by this stream in Spring, Summer, or Autumn, when the wild flowers, ferns, and fruits-which grow in profusion on its banks -are in perfection, cannot fail to delight the lover of fair sights and sweet sounds. Druidical remains are plentiful near to and on the river's banks. Through Whiddon Park, luminous in Summer timewith the bright hue of innumerable rhododendrons, Scorhill Down (where stand a columnar circle, tolmen and stone avenues) may be reached. Near the Park is a cromlech, called Spinsters Rock-an interesting remnant, worth seeing. Then there is Holy-street, supposed to have been the beginning of the Via Sacra, or processional road of the Druids; Castor Rock; Teigncombe Down, where there are hut circles; Kestor rock — on which there is the largest rock basin on the Moor; and Middletor, where other rock basins receive the dews and rain of Heaven, as they have done for many centuries past. A visit to Sittaford-tor should not be omitted by the tourist. It is distant about six miles from Chagford. On the south-eastern slope of this tor are the Grey Wethers-two circles, resembling the Hurlers on the Bodmin Moors, inasmuch as the circumference of the circles nearly touch each other. Two miles east of Sittaford-tor is a noted sacred circle, near Fernworthy. Drewsteignton, a favourite place of sojourn for artists, is a village four miles distant from Chagford. This little picturesque place is perched upon a breezy height, and not far off is a famous logan stone, on the banks of the Teign. Beautiful exceedingly is the scenery as viewed from the height of Prestonbury, where there was an ancient fort, and from its neighbour-Cranbrook Castlewhere lie the remains of an extensive British town. Wooston Castle, not far off from these heights, is said to be the most curious and interesting specimen of ancient castramentation in the whole of the Moorland This, with Cranbrook and Prestonbury,

region.

would seem to "have been one of a chain of forts on the Teign." From Moreton also large portions of the Moor may be conveniently explored. With a trusty guide, like friend Perrott, who lives at Chagford, but who obeys a message with wonderful alacrity and quickness-so fleet is he of foot-Grimspound (one of the finest and most complete specimens of an ancient British town to be found in any other part of the island), provided as it was with means of protracted defence, may be visited. Then there is Wistman's Wood, a pigmy Druidical grove of old oaks, each about ten feet high- weird and mysterious of aspect-near which the river Dart sends forth upon the silent desert air tones of unearthly cadence. The neighbouring moorman will tell the visitor that this is " a wisht old place sure enough, and as full of adders as can be." I saw none when I paid the interesting spot a visit. It is good, it is said, to be provided with an "ashen wand " to charm them, a custom which prevails among the peasantry That Wistman's grove was sacred to the rites of Druidism seems to be highly probable, inasmuch as it is surrounded by cairns and hut circles. South of it is Crockentor, the ancient seat of British jurisprudence and the Court of Stannaries, up to so recent a period as 1749. To the west is Bair-down, or the hill of bards, from which it is supposed the ancient minstrels were wont to come down to the lonely wood of Wistman for meditation and inspiration. Cranmere Pool-the "mother of rivers "-is interesting from the fact that the sources of many rivers are near where the pool once was. Dartmoor Convict Prison can be conveniently reached from Moreton. Prince's town boasts of the Duchy Hotel, a capital inn, where the tourist visiting the prison will, doubtless, take up his quarters. Great Mis-tor is not far from here. The grandest tor on the Moor is Great Mist-tor. On it is a very fine rock basin, named Mis-tor Pan.

The picturesque river