ple traded with Virginia
and the West Indies, the Spaniards in South America and on the Continent.
The Customs receipts show a very great import of tobacco, and there was a
considerable manufacture of pipes, as a branch of local pottery. "The
Exchange," or "the Merchants' Walk," as Queen Anne's Walk was then
called, before it was rebuilt, must have witnessed the inception of many
a venture, been paced by many an anxious foot when the weather was bad
and the returning ship was long overdue, and seen many a bargain struck
by richly dressed merchants, with pointed beards lying over their ruffs,
gravely smoking their pipe of "Virginny" over the deal.

That picturesqueness of dress and custom has passed away, but Barnstaple
is still a prosperous and pleasant city, lying on the sleek curve of the
River Taw, and surrounded by low smooth hills. Seen from the opposite
side of the river on a spring afternoon, from the steep road that leads
to Bishop's Tawton over Codden Hill, it has a fair aspect. The tall
modern Gothic tower of Holy Trinity stands out commandingly above the
clustered roofs by the river, and beyond the town, which is small enough,
seen from this height, to come within a single glance, lie the green and
fertile fields, and gentle, wooded hills. The road to Bishop's
Tawton--which was formerly an episcopal seat of the Bishops of Exeter--is
a typical Devonshire road, steep and stony, with high green banks and
hedges, which, on such an afternoon in spring, are starred with primroses
and clumps of dog-violets, celandines and wild-anemones, and wonderfully
green. It climbs from the London and South-Western Station, after
crossing the great thirteenth-century bridge from the Square, and within
a few minutes all signs of a town have dropped away, and we are in the
country of fields and farms. In less than a mile, indeed, we come upon
an old fortified farm; the massive whitewashed wall, three feet thick,
rises steeply from the hilly road. At one corner a giant yew has thrust
out part of the wall with its knotted roots, which are so huge that some
recent owner of the farm has cut a little summer house out of them, with
a thatched roof. The dwelling part of the farm faces this way, and,
being built on the hillside above the road, I catch only a glimpse of
steep gables and tall brick chimneys; but I looked in the open gateway of
the cobbled yard, and saw the great thatched barns, and the massive white
walls which surro