Lorna Doone | Page 3

by the early British.
Not far beyond the Valley of Rocks are the grounds of Ley Abbey, a modern mansion, but occupying the site of Lev Manor, to whose owner, _Baron de Whichehalse, John Ridd_ accompanies Master Huckaback in search of a warrant against the Doones. In fact, all the way from Barnstaple over the parapet of whose bridge Tom Faggus leaped his wonderful mare, every nook and corner of the countryside teems with legends of the Doones. From Lynton we drive over the border into Porlock, in Somerset that quaint little village where Coleridge wrote his "Kubla Khan," and where Lord Lovelace brought Ada Byron to his seat of Ashley Combe.
It was while riding home from Porlock market that _John Ridd's_ father was murdered by the Doones, and from Porlock we drove in a pony-trap over the high moors to Malmsmead, in search of the ruined huts of the Doones.
[Illustration: xv.jpg Malmsmead]
Over the heights of Yarner Moor, and past Oare Ford (now bridged over), the road lay past the old church of Oare, where Lorna Doone and John Ridd were married, and then into the deep flowery lanes that are the glory of Devon and Somerset. Malmsmead proved to be a little cluster of heavily thatched cottages, nestled under overhanging trees, where stood an ancient signboard with "Ba_d_gworthy" on one of its arms, pointing the way we should go. This d on the old sign-board accounted for the local pronunciation of Badgery, as the river is always called.
At Malmsmead the road ends, and thence one must proceed on foot. Several deep and flowery lanes lead one at length to the river where a lonely stone cottage stands on its further brink. This is Clowd Farm, and here all paths cease. Two hundred years ago, in the time of the Doones, the narrow valley through which the Bagworthy now dances in the open sunshine was filled with trees; but now, with the exception of a withered and stunted old orchard and grove near the farm, there is not a tree to be seen, and the Bagworthy, a lonely but cheerful trout stream, rattles along in the broad sunshine through a deep valley, whose sides slope steeply upward.
After walking about three miles into the heart of the wilderness, another deep glen, shut in by the same sloping heather-covered hills, suddenly opens to the right. There are no cliffs, no overhanging trees, not even a bush, but all along the stream, "with its soft, dark babble," lie heaps and half-circles of stone nearly buried in the turf, and almost hidden by the tall ferns and foxgloves. And this is what we went out for to see! These are the ruins of the _Doones'_ huts. There could not be anything more disappointing. Two hundred years have effectually destroyed all distinctive traits, and they might have been sheep-folds or pig-sties, or any other innocent agricultural erection for aught that we could tell. "Not a single house stood there but was the home of murder," says their historian. The suns and rains of two hundred and odd years have effectually washed out their blood-stains, and there is nothing left there but peace.
Some way beyond the ruins stands a small stone cottage of the most modern order. We found it to be the abode of a shepherd, away with his flock on the hills, but his wife, no shepherdess of the Dresden china order, but a hearty and substantial dame, gave us a cordial welcome. She was in a state of intense delight at our disappointment about the ruins, and discussed the situation in that soft Somersetshire accent that gives such breadth and jollity to the language. "E'll not vind it a beet loike ta buik," she said, with her cheery laugh. "Buik's weel mad' up; it houlds 'ee loike, and 'ee can't put it by, but there's nobbut three pairts o't truth. Hunnerds cooms up here to se't," she added, with a chuckle.
The fact is that the traditional and the ideal are as inextricably mixed in this charming story of "Lorna Doone" as the thousand varieties of seeds in the fairy tale which the princess was expected to sort out, and it would be almost as difficult to separate them. Perhaps the best way, after all, is--not to try.
Katharine Hillard.
[Illustration: map]

CONTENTS:
I. ELEMENTS OF EDUCATION
II. AN IMPORTANT ITEM
III. THE WARPATH OF THE DOONES
IV. A VERY RASH VISIT
V. AN ILLEGAL SETTLEMENT
VI. NECESSARY PRACTICE
VII. HARD IT IS TO CLIMB
VIII. A BOY AND A GIRL
IX. THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME
X. A BRAVE RESCUE AND A ROUGH RIDE
XI. TOM DESERVES HIS SUPPER
XII. A MAN JUSTLY POPULAR
XIII. MASTER HUCKABACK COMES IN
XIV. A MOTION WHICH ENDS IN A MULL
XV. QUO WARRANTO?
XVI. LORNA GROWS FORMIDABLE
XVII. JOHN IS BEWITCHED
XVIII. WITCHERY LEADS TO WITCHCRAFT
XIX. ANOTHER DANGEROUS INTERVIEW
XX. LORNA BEGINS HER STORY
XXI. LORNA ENDS HER STORY
XXII.