Of Twy-ford-town--for so the place was called in former days, in allusion to its fords across the Exe and the Loman at the points where now the streams are spanned by bridges--the most salient feature from the banks of the larger water is the Perpendicular tower of the Church of St. Peter. The body of the church was virtually reconstructed in the 'sixties, with the fortunate exception of its most interesting feature, the Greenaway Chapel, founded nearly four hundred years ago by the merchant whose name it shares with the quaint almshouses in Gold Street. What remains of the ancient castle, which stood hard by the church, has been converted into a modern dwelling and a farmhouse. The old Grammar School, too, on Loman Green, is now divided up into private houses, a more commodious structure, in the Tudor style, having been reared a mile or so out of the town to take its place. Who will begrudge good old Peter Blundell the immortality which this famous school has conferred upon his honest-sounding name? A native of Tiverton, he began life as an errand-boy. With his carefully-hoarded earnings, as Prince tells the story in his "Worthies," he bought a piece of kersey, and got a friendly carrier to take it to London and there sell it to advantage. So he gradually extended his operations, until he was able to go to town himself, with as much stock-in-trade as a horse could carry. In London he continued to thrive, and in due course was able to fulfil the ambition of his life by establishing himself in the town of his birth as a manufacturer of kerseys; and here he remained until his death, at the ripe age of eighty. "Though I am not myself a scholar," the good old man would say with proud humility, "I will be the means of making more scholars than any scholar in England." And the school founded under his will in 1604 has not failed to justify his boast. The roll of "Blundell's boys" includes a brace of bishops and an archbishop, the present occupant of the throne of Canterbury, who, before his translation to London, ruled with abundant vigour the diocese to which Tiverton belongs. Yet, without disrespect to spiritual dignities, one may be pardoned for remembering with deeper interest that it was here that "girt Jan Ridd" had his meagre schooling, and fought his great fight with Robin Snell. John, by the way, who left Blundell's at the age of twelve, must have been considerably less stupid than he appeared to his contemporaries, for when long afterwards he came to describe the combat he was able to say that he replied to his antagonist "with all the weight and cadence of penthemimeral cæsura"; and although he modestly protests that he could "never make head or tail" of the expression, it is clear from his epithets that he knew perfectly well what he was writing about.