I'm afraid Methodism and intemperance are very strong ...

all the same, we're fighting 'em, fighting 'em!" This was the more remarkable in that Mr.Lasher lived upon the very edge of Roche St.Mary Moor, a stretch of moor and sand.

Roche St.Mary Moor, that runs to the sea, contains the ruins of St.Arthe Church (buried until lately in the sand, but recently excavated through the kind generosity of Sir John Porthcullis, of Borhaze, and shown to visitors, 6d.

a head, Wednesday and Saturday afternoons free), and in one of the most romantic, mist-laden, moon-silvered, tempest-driven spots in the whole of Great Britain.
The road that ran from Clinton St.Mary to Borhaze across the moor was certainly a wild, rambling, beautiful affair, and when the sea-mists swept across it and the wind carried the cry of the Bell of Trezent Rock in and out above and below, you had a strange and moving experience.

Mr.
Lasher was certainly compelled to ride on his bicycle from Clinton St.
Mary to Borhaze and back again, and never thought it either strange or moving.