river, and the Saxon word stock, a place; it is a town of considerable antiquity, and the birthplace of some illustrious characters. William Browne was born here in the year 1590: he was a poet of considerable eminence in his day, and his versification is remarkably smooth and flowing for the age in which he wrote. In the poem entitled Britannia's Pastorals he has introduced several very pretty allusions, descriptive of scenery in this neighbourhood.

The river Tamer, after forming the boundary of the extensive parish of Beeralston, is five miles from Tavistock; and at this spot the great road into Cornwall begins, over New-bridge.

Brent Torr is five miles from Tavistock; the church on its summit has given rise to various traditions, one of which has been already detailed: the prospect from it includes the British, and on a clear day the Bristol Channel, the many pointed torrs of Dartmoor, the fine scenery towards Launceston Castle, and the Rough-torr hills, Two miles further, near the road, is the famous fall into the Lyd (for it is only a mountain tor

rent which empties itself into that river), so much the object of curiosity: a steep and long descent leads to it; and after walking by the side of the river, a kind of glen is entered, where the silver stream falls nearly seventy feet, almost perpendicular, into a small basin, and unites with the Lyd at the distance of a few yards. The fall has occasioned a degree of disappointment to many, probably from having formed too sanguine expectations of its force; for it has nothing of the character of a cataract, but it cannot be surveyed without emotions of tranquil pleasure, nor remembered but as a scene of interest and picturesque beauty. As every thing is considered by comparison, it may derive its fame from the great contrast between it and Lydford-bridge, the Devil's-bridge of Devon, and an object of terror, from the many accidents near it, and its awful situation.

To see this latter place, the steep side of the hill must be patiently surmounted, and the road regained; the distance to it then is about a mile; it has not any other appearance than

that of a small parapet wall, erected as a protection from a ditch: but curiosity is first attracted by the noise of water; and a sudden exclamation of surprise generally follows, on looking over the wall; the thick woods on each side exclude the light, but the whiteness of the agitated water is seen at the depth of seventy or eighty feet; the foundation of the piers is perceived, and confidence of security diminishes, as the eye explores the terrifying scene. The course of the Lyd is the most extraordinary of any river in the country: while others flow through vallies, this penetrates through a kind of cleft, or extensive fissure, occasionally widening, so as to admit walking by its side, but generally so contracted as to render it impossible. In some places the river is not visible, it imperceptibly oozes through a narrow fissure, without a murmur to denote its passage; the rocky sides beetle over, and in one of these places the foundation for the bridge was chosen. The height of the racks from the river, before the mould begins, is between sixty and seventy feet, and the bridge is built on the highest part of it; on