Exeter Itself Did Not Impress Me So
Strongly, In Spite Of Its Cathedral.
The village of Exford
printed itself thus sharply on my mind because I had there
been filled with wonder
And delight at the sight of a face
exceeding in loveliness all the faces seen in that West
Country - a rarest human gem, which had the power of imparting
to its setting something of its own wonderful lustre. The
type was a common Somerset one, but with marked differences in
some respects, else it could not have been so perfect.
The type I speak of is a very distinct one: in a crowd in a
London street you can easily spot a Somerset man who has this
mark on his countenance, but it shows more clearly in the
woman. There are more types than one, but the variety is less
than in other places; the women are more like each other, and
differ more from those that are outside their borders than is
the case in other English counties. A woman of this prevalent
type, to be met with anywhere from Bath and Bedminster to the
wilds of Exmoor, is of a good height, and has a pleasant,
often a pretty face; regular features, the nose straight,
rather long, with thin nostrils; eyes grey-blue; hair brown,
neither dark nor light, in many cases with a sandy or sunburnt
tint. Black, golden, reds, chestnuts are rarely seen. There
is always colour in the skin, but not deep; as a rule it is a
light tender brown with a rosy or reddish tinge.
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