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Widdecombe; one is at Chittleford, another on Corndon. The primitive type of farm on the moor was an inclosed courtyard, entered through a gate. Opposite the gate is the dwelling-house, with a projecting porch, with an arched granite door and a mullioned window over it. On one side of the entrance is the dwelling-room, on the other the saddle and sundry chamber. The well, which is a stream of water from the moor conducted by a small leat to the house, is under cover; and the cattle-sheds open into the yard, so as to be reached with ease from the house without exposure to the storms.

These farm dwellings are rapidly disappearing, and are making way for more pretentious and extremely hideous buildings. Such as remain are remarkably picturesque, and should be photographed before they are destroyed.

Widdecombe must not be quitted without a reference to the famous ballad of the old grey mare taken there to the fair; a ballad that is immensely popular in Devon, and one to the air of which the Devon Regiment went against the Boers.

"Tom Pearce, Tom Pearce, lend me thy grey mare,
   All along, down along, out along, lee.
 For I want for to go to Widdecombe Fair,
   Wi' Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy,
     Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawk,
 Old Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all.
         Chorus—Old Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all.

"And when shall I see again my grey mare?
   All along, down along, out along, lee.
 By Friday soon, or Saturday noon,
   Wi' Bill Brewer, etc.