village is
very conspicuously a victim of 'the whirligig of time,' and William
Browne gives a most unflattering picture of its appearance in the
middle of the seventeenth century:

'I oft have heard of Lydford law,
How in the morn they hang and draw,
And sit in judgment after:
At first I wondered at it much;
But soon I found the matter such
As it deserves no laughter.

'They have a castle on a hill;
I took it for some old windmill,
The vanes blown off by weather.
Than lie therein one night 'tis guessed
'Twere better to be stoned, or pressed,
Or hanged, ere you come hither.

* * * * *

'Near these poor men that lie in lurch,
See a dire bridge, a little church,
Seven ashes and one oak;
Three houses standing, and ten down;
They say the rector hath a gown,
But I saw ne'er a cloak:

* * * * *

'This town's enclosed with desert moors,
But where no bear nor lion roars,
And nought can live but hogs:
For, all o'erturned by Noah's flood,
Of fourscore miles scarce one foot's good,
And hills are wholly bogs.'

The Castle is not very large, and is now utterly in ruins, though the
walls of the square keep are still standing. In Browne's day it was used
as the stannary prison, and was denounced in an Act of Parliament as
'one of the most heinous, contagious, and detestable places in the
realm.' For many years after this Lydford was a lonely village,
generally ignored, in spite of its fine air and beautiful scenery.
Towards the moor it looks up to an irregular barrier (about a mile or so
distant) of very picturesque tors, and in the opposite direction a
fertile and pleasant country spreads beneath it. The River Lyd winds
through scenes that are always delightful and sometimes very striking,
but the cascade has been so much praised that, if seen in summer, it is
apt to be disappointing. Lydford Gorge, however, is properly placed
among the 'wonders' of Devonshire--to use Fuller's expression. The gorge
is deep and exceedingly narrow, and the sides are precipitous. The
river, rushing between blocks of stone, flows so far below the road that
from the bridge, where the chasm is only a few yards wide, it is almost
invisible. Risdon says: 'It maketh such a hideous noise, that being only
heard, and not seen, it causeth a kind of fear to the passenge