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Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts), 1856-1913

"A Prince of Cornwall A Story of Glastonbury and the West in the Days of Ina of Wessex"

I was almost sorry to make a
third in that little party, but Erpwald knew nothing of the
country, and Elfrida had no more skill in matters of time and place
and distance than most ladies, which is not saying much, in all
truth, though I hardly should dare to set it down, save by way of
giving a reason for my presence with so well contented a party of
two.
Now, if there is one who has not seen this Cheddar gorge, I will
say that it is as if the mighty hills had been broken across as a
boy breaks a long loaf, or as if some giant had hewn a narrow gap
with the roughest pick that ever was handled. Our forefathers held
that Woden had indeed hewn it so, and we have tales that the evil
one himself cleft it in a night, and that the rocky islands of
Steep and Flat Holme, yonder in the mid channel, are the rubbish
which he hewed thence and cast there. Maybe the overhanging cliffs
are full four hundred feet high from the little white track which
winds at their foot, and from cliff top to cliff top is but a short
bow shot.
From where we waited one could look sheer down on the track below
us, and a man who was coming slowly along it seemed like a rat in
its run, so far off did he appear. At least, so said Erpwald, who
looked over, riding to the very edge. I had no wish to do so,
having been there before, and not altogether liking it.


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