might as well have been traveling through a tunnel so far as seeing the
country was concerned. A large proportion of the fences are made of
earth piled up four or five feet high, and on the top of this ridge are
planted the hedges, generally reaching three or four feet higher. There
were times when we could catch only an occasional glimpse of the
landscape, and if such fences were everywhere in England they would be
a serious deterrent upon motoring. Fortunately, they prevail in a
comparatively small section, for we did not find them outside of
Cornwall and Devon. This experience served to impress on us how much we
lost when the English landscapes were hidden--that the vistas which
flitted past us as we hurried along were among the pleasantest features
of our journey. It was little short of distressing to have mud fences
shut from view some of the most fascinating country through which we
passed.

The greatest part of the day we spent in Exeter. The Rougemont Hotel,
where we stopped for the night, is spacious and comfortable, and a
series of stained-glass windows at the head of the great staircase tells
the story of Richard Ill's connection with Exeter; how, according to
Shakespeare's play, the Rougemont of Exeter recalled to the king's
superstitious mind an ancient prophecy of his defeat at the hands of
Richmond, later Henry VII.

Leaving Exeter early, we planned to reach Bath in the evening--only
eighty-one miles over an almost perfect road--not a very long run so far
as actual distance is concerned, but entirely too long considering the
places of unusual interest that lie along the way. We passed through the
little town of Wellington, noted chiefly for giving his title to the
Iron Duke, and it commemorates its great namesake by a lofty column
reared on one of the adjacent hills.