e
gnarled boughs; there are wallflowers and lavender and rosemary, for
the sweet scent and the "remembrance" of them, and tall hollyhocks to
nod over high brick walls; creepers, green or flowering, to grow over
the whitewashed spaces, and great trees for shade on summer afternoons.

In the centre of the long main street is the yarn-market, a beautiful
wooden building of the seventeenth century, built by Sir George
Luttrell when Dunster was still a centre of the wool industry. It is
built with wide overhanging caves, pierced by eight little
dormer-windows, with a lantern at the apex of the roof, and is a unique
little building whose characteristic features have been sketched and
photographed many scores of times, and is comparable, perhaps, only
with the butter-market at Bingley in Yorkshire. Opposite is the
Luttrell Arms, a quiet, comfortable, harmonious stone building of the
eighteenth century, but with part of the older building still preserved
inside--a wall that overlooks a paved court, with windows set in frames
of beautiful carved oak, and a gabled roof, a moulded plaster
over-mantle also, and yet with that general air of disregard for these
treasures, amid a hurrying to and fro with plates and bottles, which,
to me, is one of the special charms of these long-established country
inns.

To anyone who loves England, and that beauty which is so
characteristically English, where the life of the present day is
visibly linked with the life of the past through long centuries of
security, where age has ripened all, the great old trees, the colours
of old oak and weather-beaten tiles and warm brick, has gently
undulated straight lines, and softened all sharp angles, where the very
sunlight has the mellowness of old wine, to a mind perceptive of this
peculiar and intimate charm of England, Dunster makes a special call,
set amid the suave curves of its rich country, crowned by its ancient
castle, dignified by its old, beautiful church (grown, like the castle,
through Norman and Early English and Perpendicular styles of
architecture), yet intimate and familiar, and beautiful most of all
because of the use and wont of daily life within its walls.

CHAPTER VIII

LUNDY

It is curious in this twentieth century of ours, when every corner of
the habitable globe is docketed, measured, mapped, and surveyed, when a
railroad runs across "darkest Africa," and the great ice-wall of the
Antarctic cannot keep its inviolabili