Before
that time enthusiasts, among them Whistler and several other famous
artists, braved the six miles of rough road from the nearest station
to reach the picturesque old town on the Buddle, and possibly formed
some sort of league to keep their "find" dark. Happily the place is
still unspoilt and the hand of Jerry has not descended. The visitor
who arrives by the South Western after a delightful trip, all too
short, on the miniature Alpine line that burrows through hillsides and
swerves across valleys, over the last by a highly spectacular viaduct,
is agreeably surprised to find himself at a terminus while apparently
still in the wilds. If the little motor train went down to the seaside
it could never pant back again. But the eye is unoffended in the long
walk down the steep road to the shore, and in these days when the
canons of good taste seem to have some weight with property owners and
builders it is probable that the growth of Lyme will be effected with
circumspection. As it is, the snug little town is almost unaltered,
except for a slight and necessary clearance at the river mouth, from
the days when Louisa Musgrove lived at Captain Harville's house.
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