[Illustration]
_Mem. at Ilfracombe._--Capital boating and fishing here. Likewise
plenty of steamering. Lovely scenery everywhere about in this
neighbourhood for pedestrians, equestrians, "carriage-folk,"
and donkey-chaise people. _Special mem. for equestrians and
drivers_;--"_Hire on the spot_," which sounds like some direction at
billiards, but is meant for advice to riders and drivers. Picturesque
caves on coast to visit in rowing-boat, or in canoe which you can
paddle yourself. With fair weather, and good waterproof, you can't be
dull at Ilfracombe.
* * * * *
_Mem._--"For outward application only." Before starting for a long and
genuinely country walk, put in your pocket a waterproof sponge wrapper.
It occupies no space, and, like an objectionable person in a small
party, _is always there to be sat upon_. Strong crook-handled stick
with pointed ferrule indispensable.
* * * * *
Were Ilfracombe a French watering-place, how delightful it could be
made. Imagine the restaurants, the _déjeuners à la fourchette_, under
cover in bad weather, out in the open air in fine; the good bands; the
casino; the _établissement_, with excellent reading and writing-rooms,
billiard tables, library, first-rate concerts and fair dramatic
performances; _petits chevaux_, _petits soupers al fresco_, and every
possible opportunity afforded for enjoying life _en pleine air_.
* * * * *
_À propos_ of restaurants, there is a splendid chance for starting a
first-rate French hotel in Ilfracombe, with well-devised gardens, and
at such a superb height, that while it would be open to all the most
refreshing breezes--for it is impossible to feel the full benefit of
these in the valley--yet would it be warm and cosy during the coldest
months, of which, in an ordinary year with well-regulated seasons,
there cannot be many.
* * * * *
Ilfracombers boast that the snow does not lie in these parts. I hope
the Ilfracombers who gave me this information are, so far, like the
snow.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Of course there are golf links. The links-eye'd golf man looks out for
these at once, and though he has got to go some little distance for
them, there they are--at last. Equally of course there is lawn tennis,
and plenty of it close at hand. A shilling an hour; "_net profits_."
* * * * *
_Per steamboat to Tenby._--Tenby is described on some of the
excursionist handbills as "_The Naples of Wales_." If Tenby is the
Naples of Wales, then Margate is the Monte Carlo of Kent.
* * * * *
Tenby Pier being in process of construction, there is no landing except
in small boats, of which there appears to be a better supply than is
usual on such excursions. But as even these boats cannot be run ashore
with their cargoes, there are the stalwart arms of boatmen extended to
carry ladies, and boatmen's broad shoulders on which gentlemen, unable
to wade, can ride pick-a-back. _Anyone over fifteen stone had better
remain on board._
* * * * *
A guide-book, written by Mr. and Mrs. S. C. HALL--names held in
grateful remembrance as authorities on Irish legends--describes climate
of Tenby as being "for the greater portion of the year warm, dry,
and bracing." May be; was not there "for the greater portion of the
year." She "Halls by the Sea," further declare, when comparing Tenby
with Hastings, Ventnor, and Torquay, that it, though "equally mild, is
nevertheless invigorating." Shouldn't have thought it. But--very glad
to hear it.
* * * * *
Oysters in plenty at Tenby. This being the first month with an "r" in
it after the off-oyster season, we saw an ogre-like gourmand devouring
a dozen or so of the natives of Tenby, with the magic aid of vinegar,
pepper, and--and--_whisky!!_ Of such grand constitutions (should he be
none the worse afterwards) are heroes made!
* * * * *
_From Ilfracombe to Lynton._--Pass Watermouth Castle. Lucky person the
proprietor of this charming place. Lovely position this Watermouth;
quite enough to make one's mouth water.
* * * * *
Near Coombe-Martin is Hangman's Hill, where a sheep hanged a man for
stealing him.
* * * * *
In the character of _Mr. P.'s_ Own Inn-spector I venture to pronounce
the Valley of Rocks Hotel at Lynton delightful. Here everything is
unpretentiously English, and even the waiters are not all foreigners.
The supply of certain articles of food may on occasion run short (which
ought not to happen), and consequently you can only complain of what
you _don't_ get, very rarely of what you do. The other hostelries
may be equally good, but of these _Mr. P.'s_ Own Inn-spector, being
un-ubiquitous, cannot speak from experience.
* * * * *
The Valley of Rocks Hotel is so-called because it is _not_ in the
valley but high up, and thence you can go down by the easiest possible
descent, _i.e._ _per_ water-worked tram-way to Lynmouth, and so
remount. Here we go up up up, and here we go down down down O, all day
at threepence a head per journey, reduction on taking a quantity of
tickets, not persons.
* * * * *
And here comes in my complaint. I do not know what numbers this
"_ascenseur_" will carry with safety, but that it can _not_ carry more
than twenty, all told, inside and out, with anything like comfort, I,
not being "Your Fat Contributor," will honestly affirm. Whether the
proprietorship is in the hands of a company, or in those of Sir TIT BIT
NEWNES is of no importance. If Sir T. B. N. has the sole management, he
may be trusted in future to look after this "_facilis descensus_" well
and wisely.
* * * * *
The drivers of the Ilfracombe four-horsed coaches are all good whips;
not showy, but careful. Pretty sight to see COPP'S mail, the Defiance
brought at a trot between the two gate-posts, and tooled round the
small lawn up to the Valley of Rocks Hotel, Lynton. N.B. Put your name
down early for box-seat in Coppy-book.
* * * * *
Notice that the Defiance guard is a master of horn blowing. He tootles
most of the popular tunes of the day with windy wariations, humourously
causing deep bellowing bass notes to issue from the instrument whenever
the coach is passing by a field of cattle. The guard takes an unfair
advantage of these animals, as their peculiarity being to have no
horns, _they are unable to return the blow!_
* * * * *
[Illustration: A Bathing Cove.]
Plenty of bathing; well managed; might be much better. _Advice gratis
for "bain de luxe"_:--Take a boat, towels, spirit lamp, can of fresh
water, &c., &c., discover natural bathing place on coast, snugly fixed
up among the rocks,--and _there you are_. Don't forget to have with you
refreshments for after bath.
* * * * *
It grieves me to be compelled to quit Ilfracombe just as the real
sport is beginning. I do not allude to the North Devon Stag Hounds,
but to the arrival of September wasps, and very fine autumn gnats.
This morning had a glorious run over tables and chairs, killing the
wily wasp in the open, that is, on the window pane, with a slipper.
Luckily "_pane forte et dure_." or there would have been smashery. Cut
off his sting, if possible, with purpose of presenting it to youngest
lady of party. Killed a second, but less wily wasp. Ran him to earth
in jam pot. A third, which entered by the door, after a rapid burst
through the hall, showed some fine sport, and after getting away in the
open (window), went to ground somewhere in the rose bushes, when the
pursuers, armed with napkins, slippers, and paper-knives, gave up the
pursuit, and returned to breakfast.
Later in the day killed a splendid gnat with very big head and large
wings. Quite a pantomime gnat. Send him: as specimen to Sir AUGUSTUS
DRURIOLANUS. Useful as model for "property gnat" at Christmas. Or,
nailed him to wall, as warning to other gnats.
* * * * *
_Final Note._:--Ilfracombe ought simply to be perfect. Spare friendly
criticism, and you help to spoil the place. But I say to the I. I. C.,
in all friendliness, addressing them in French, "knowing the language,"
like _Jeames, "Messieurs, j'ai raison, moi; vous,--vous avez Torrs_."
And now, I am off to Cromer.
* * * * *
"ITERUM CRISPINUS!"--Bravo SIMS REEVES! SIMMUM to the front again, the
evening shirt-front, inviting MAUD for a stroll with him in the garden,
as fresh as ever! Glad to hear that in addition to "_Tom Bowling_," and
out of compliment to the modern _furore_ for cricket, SIMMUM is going
to produce, from his chest, a new song entitled "_Will Batting_," which
is to be dedicated to "W. G." But SIMMUM, our prime tenor, will make
it a duet, and sing it with Grace. Trust soon to hear that SIMMUM will
give us "_The Lost Ball_," as a companion to the "_The Lost Chord_."
* * * * *