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Remembering Edith Dart, Crediton’s Edwardian Novelist and Poet; 'As a novelist in “Miriam,” in “Likeness,” in “Rebecca Drew,” and especially in “Sareel,” Devon lives again':

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  Remembering Edith Dart, Crediton’s Edwardian Novelist and Poet; As a novelist in “Miriam,” in “Likeness,” in “Rebecca Drew,” and especially in “Sareel,” Devon lives again' (Quotation from Obituary for Edith Dart by Mary Patricia Willcocks) The Grand Affair General Buller's Return to Crediton 1900 I am grateful to staff at Crediton Museum for locating the image. ‘Miss Edith Dart, attired in a costume of purple tweed with longer black picture hat presented Lady Audrey Buller with a magnificent shower bouquet with red, white and blue favours’. (The Scotsman 2 November 1900). General Buller's Return to Crediton 1900 I am grateful to staff at Crediton Museum for locating this image.        As far as I’m aware the vivid depiction in the passage above picturing  the young writer and  Crediton born woman who, at the time the article from which this quote was written and published in The Scotsman, 2nd November 1900, was about 27, is the only extant description of her. (And it is p

The Crediton Quest - an Excerpt

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The Crediton Quest 'The white crescent moon there up in the south, set within a plume of rosaceous sky high behind the moor, broods over the silhouette of the crepuscular grey and silvery tors. How many early missionaries exalting in the exact same sight tracked back and forwards on the tracks mazing across these western Wessex lands?' See Excerpt 4 from Writing Women on the Devon Land on the blog page  The Crediton Quest

L ... Tracing Tracks towards Lapford ... and Other Literary Lanes, Away, and On the Way ... Newton St Cyres, Crediton ...

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Women Writing on the Devon Land A-Z of Devon Women Writers & Places Lapford Around Lapford, possible places of the site of Dowriche's home in the C16. Lane and Vie of Parsonage Farm & Court Barton across the road from the church. Photo Julie Sampson       It’s not easy to adjust your field of vision and cut out all the paraphernalia of modern life, even in a small village, or hamlet. The traffic and take-aways, the maze-like housing estates, all the accoutrements of contemporary rural life screen out what is inevitably there somewhere, just below and behind the surface. A wall; a ruin; a high hedge; an eave jutting out from a building; a mound in a field; an old house over there, with turrets.       See there, the other side of the valley; there's a monument inside the village church (if, that is, you're lucky and the door is not locked). But here I am, late autumn, atop the village, walking up toward Lapford church; the village landmark.