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HENGE,—he will have had his attention continually arrested by various objects of interest. It has now been engaged by the gay tents of sturdy cricketers, who have seemed to pause occasionally, as they have pursued their sport amid the numerous barrows and fortifications with which the plain is studded, to indulge in airy conjecture as to their original purpose and their present contents;-now the abrupt termination of some distant hills will have reminded him of headland bluffs seen from sea, or along the coast. He has now been struck with the joyous carol of the lark, as it soared from its lowly nest in grass-sheltered ruts which had been left by the wheels of former travellers;-now the plaintive note of the lapwing, as it seemed to invite rain, will have roused him, perhaps, from a reverie into which the observation of weather-beaten milestones upon the greensward downs, marking the line of mail-roads which had been in use in other days, and the broken feet of crosses which have crumbled into ruins, had allured him. At intervals he has been struck with the eagerness of the large flocks of sheep hastening towards some solitary well upon the downs, where a lone female, as she has drawn forth water for her thirsty flock, has reminded him of the primitive occupations of the simple females of the patriarchal or the classic ages;-and when he has marked the scarcity of such wells, and seen signs of vain attempts of anxious herdsmen to obtain water in the drought of summer, in the many hollow places which have here and there been scooped out in the chalk of these downs, in the hope that they might retain some of the welcome moisture which drops from the skies;-and when he has noted the carefulness with which, in the few basins which retain water in the summer, strawlitter, or tanner's-bark is laid down upon the shelving slope to the very margin of the attenuated pond at which the sheep slake their thirst, that the sun may not carry off the liquid treasure by evaporation, or, by cracking the parched soil, open channels for its escape into the chalky depths below,-the observation of these straits, and shifts, and contrivances to obtain and to keep water, will have brought to his recollection the value which, in scripture narrative, is attached to wells in the wilderness, and he will have been struck with the suitableness of the scriptural figure by which the refreshing and strengthening means of grace enjoyed by the church are compared to springs of water in a dry place. His admiration, again, will have been excited at times by the distant view of the delicately tapering spire of the cathedral of Salisbury, but he will have been chiefly struck, as he has looked down at intervals from the edge of those shelterless downs into valleys underneath him, by the contrast which they present to the eye, which has been almost wearied by the sameness of the unbounded prospect above, and the paucity of the objects which it offers. Above, if the eye rested here and there upon some distant trees, the unwonted objects reminded him, as they loomed in the

⚫ There are remains, which may be traced for several miles, of two such abandoned lines of road, one from Salisbury to Bath, the other from the same place to Marlborough, upon those parts of the downs which are now only frequented by shepherds.

distant horizon, of vessels at sail, and the gentle, wave-like undulation of the grain in those parts of the downs which are cultivated was calculated to assist the illusion. But, on looking over the brow of the table-plain into some valley below, he now sees belts, and clumps, and double avenues, and stately rows of elms, and chestnuts, and limes. Amid these, at different but at no very distant intervals, so that the eye, as it takes in the sweep of the valley, may command some three, four, or even five such groups of parochial divisions, are embowered the rustic village, tower, or spire, and some two or three dozen habitations.

These dwellings vary in outward pretension, from the relic of ancient grandeur which has existed from the time when almost every, the most retired, village had its residence of nobility or its manorial seat, to the whitewashed cottage of more modern date, with its walls of clay, and its roof of thatch, and its neatly-trimmed garden-fence, over which are to be seen the row of bee-hives, which the care of the tender cottage-housewife has protected from the scorching sun, the searching rain, or the biting blast, by a wheatsheaf "hackled" or spread over the top of each, with its straws directed downward. From the want of the precaution of this simple thatch, bees in other counties have been frequently known to perish from the cold, while from too great exposure of the hives to the sun, or from their removal in hot weather into close-covered buildings or sheds, they have been drowned in their own sweets. The village habitations differ, indeed, as I have already said, in outward appearance; but they all alike convey the idea that comfort and the marks of industry may be seen within. The trees, which abound in such spots, inform the traveller at once where those countless rooks which he had seen feeding upon the plains above find their shelter and repose at night,—having seen these groves, he is at no loss now to conjecture whither they are bound, as, at approach of sunset, they wheel off in various companies from the upland downs; and the sight of the bench in the cottagegarden, with its row of sheltered hives, shews him to what retreat those bees retire at evening which he had seen luxuriating with honey-burdened legs during the sunny hours of the day amidst the blossoms of the sweet wild-thyme in the plains above. These humble scenes, and the signs of the gentle occupations which engage the pastoral inhabitants, betoken peace and unruffled preparation for a nobler and a yet more innocent state of being; and those rustic sanctuaries, no less than the distant spire of the cathedral, remind him of the lines which these sweet retreats of religion and the view of a neighbouring cathedral fane suggested to Gisborne :—

"How nobly, 'mid the fading landscape, stands
Yon fane pre-eminent! It warms my heart,
When through the wide-spread provinces I stray
Of this fair realm, to view the slender spire
And massy tower from deep embowering shades
Oft rising in the vale, or on the side
Of gently-sloping hills, or loftier placed,
Crowning the wooded eminence. It looks
As though we own'd a Gon, ador'd His power,

Rever'd His wisdom, lov'd His mercy; deem'd
He claims the empire of this lower world,
And marks the deeds of its inhabitants.

It looks as though we deem'd He fills all space,

Present throughout; and bends from heaven's high throne
With ear attentive to the poor man's prayer.

It looks as though, through Him who died for all,
Steadfast in faith, we shrunk not from the thought
Of that last mansion, (last as far as earth
Detains us,) where, in solemn silence laid,
Our dust shall slumber, 'till a voice, like that

Which, speaking by th' astonished prophet's mouth,
Rous'd the dry bones that strewed th' ample vale

To sudden life, shall call th' unnumber'd dead,
Primæval Adam with his latest sons,

From every clime, before their Judge's face

To stand, and hear their everlasting doom.”

(GISBORNE'S" Walks in a Forest."-Summer, Noon.)

Orcheston St. Mary, in the hundred of Branch and Dole, and the archdeaconry of Salisbury, has, like the adjoining villages, more in it to interest the naturalist and the botanical inquirer than the antiquarian. It is about two miles from Tylshead, twelve from Devizes, eleven from Salisbury, and six from Amesbury, and is situated in the same little valley which shelters the adjoining villages of Orcheston St. George, Shrewton, Madington, and Rolleston. During the period of excitement in the winter of 1831, the revolutionary mania which raged at Bristol, with consequences so fatal that they will be long remembered, spread itself to so many of the neighbouring village districts, that, from this peaceful valley, the lurid glare of four incendiary fires might be distinctly seen in the firmament in one sad night. But the contented inhabitants of these still retreats were unmoved by the phrenzy which disturbed less happy districts in their vicinity. The cowherd's horn sounded in the grey morning, as now, to give notice of his readiness to take charge, upon the neighbouring plains, of the cattle of such as have the right of pasturage, or "cow-down;" and at evening the same well-known note gave warning to the farmers' boys of the return of the cattle, that each might claim, and lead to its proper home, his master's own. The village schoolmistress then, as now, would often look round her awful room for wayward urchins who should have been thumbing their alphabet cards with her, or preparing their given portion of the church catechism for the clergyman's Sunday examination, but who were missing. They were not, however, imbibing political or moral poison; the sly urchins were only engaged, more to their own satisfaction, in leading out the farmers' horses to crop such grass and weeds as grow in the watercourses which wind round the hills, or upon the "lynches," as those boundaries are called which divide from each other the allotments of acres which different proprietors have "severed" from the open down. And these truant holidays of the idle youths were winked at by the good dames at

*

This word "lynch" is used in the eastern part of Kent to express a watercourse at the bottom of a valley, Ed.

VOL. IX.-March, 1836.

2 M

home, for a few pence were gathered by such employ, which would, not unacceptably, swell the receipts of the parents at the Saturdayevening's weekly reckoning.

The employments of these rural villagers sustained no interruption at the sad period which I have named. The fell doctrines of the revolutionist, the incendiary, the machine-breaker, the infidel, and the leveller, had not reached this sequestered vale. The missionaries of such doctrines would not have gained an hearing among these simple people, for only terror, with an instinctive shudder, was excited at the mention of the occurrence of such crimes, even at distance. The greatest events of the entire week, to these humble villagers, were the first striking up, upon the Sunday's morning, of the bell which warned them of the approach of the welcome hour of common-prayer, and the commencement, within the consecrated roof, of the morning hymn, which was the signal of the entrance of the minister, and of the opening service of the sanctuary. The heartfelt whisper of assent to petitions which-as they had used them from their earliest youth to express their needs at the throne of grace-went, like the well-known voice of the man of God who had been the leader of their devotions for the same period, to the inmost heart of the rustic throng, was a matter of deep feeling to them; and then the looking out from the file assembled at the churchyard fence to greet the beloved pastorespecially if the eye which welcomed him could catch his smile of approval and affection-was an event big with interest for the week. This was a cordial which could make them forget the rude frowns of others, or the buffetings of rude fortune, upon working days,—to reconcile them to which, the clergyman's gentle arguments and scriptural admonitions had been exerted, hitherto, he had sometimes been almost tempted to fear, in vain.

The curious, who have heard of the far-celebrated grass of Orcheston, and of the very great length which, in particular spots, it attains, when the principal meadows which produce it in this village are pointed out to him, is surprised that he is not introduced to a grass of extraordinary stature, varying from ten to a dozen feet in height. On minutely examining the produce of the Broadmere meadow, however, which extends from Orcheston St. Mary to Orcheston St. George— which is, probably, the most fertile in the neighbourhood-he will acknowledge that the account of this far-famed grass, or rather herb, has not been in the least degree exaggerated, and that he has only been misled by extravagant expectations of his own conception. This herb, indeed, which is, I believe, the couch, or fiorin grass, found in the highland district of Galway, in Ireland,-is as long as it was stated to be; it spreads, however, along the meadow like the convolvulus, which it somewhat resembles, and it throws out slight roots at its different joints, and so trails along the ground for several feet, without exhibiting a surface at any one spot higher than two or three feet. The calcareous soil of this village, which small siliceous stones keep loose, for the insertion of its roots, is very favourable for the growth of this valuable production; which, after having furnished an excellent rich hay for the support of sheep and cows in winter, gives them green

meadow feed, of a most nutritious quality, for a great portion of the remainder of the year.

There is a peculiarity which may, in some degree, affect the soil of this and the neighbouring villages so as to have a favourable influence on this product. The siliceous stones, which keep the earth loose near the surface, prevent the calcareous soil from becoming so dry as it otherwise would become during summer; but, besides this, early in the fall of each year, springs of water, almost warm, may be seen gushing through the soil in every direction. This alternation between comparative drought and excessive moisture, although favourable perhaps to the grass, cannot be so to the roots of trees. Whether the absence of the oak may be attributed to this cause, I know not; but I may simply state the fact, that in the entire five villages which join each other in this valley, only one oak tree is to be found. When the springs which I have mentioned have burst through the under soil, which is at other seasons so dry, there is scarcely an house in these villages which is not more or less affected by this sudden flow of water. It is not unusual to see, by the side of the cheerful cottage hearth, that some large stone or board has been raised in the floor, and is kept out of its place, that the family may take advantage of the precious boon, and fill their household vessels, without trouble, while it rises, of water of the purest description. Indeed, when the present resident incumbent, the Rev. Edward Thompson Bidwell, M.A., late fellow of Clare Hall, Cambridge, was presented to the rectory by that society in 1827, so little care had been taken to draw off these springs, even from the village sanctuary, that the officiating clergyman who would escape damp was obliged, at certain seasons, to wear clogs, while ministering at the altar, to raise him above the wet; while, in the very pulpit and desk, so ill-fitted was this church for the decent and comfortable performance of divine worship, that the minister was not protected from the wind and the drifting snow or rain. The church, however, was, in 1832, completely restored, according to the accompanying view,-the chancel by the rector, and the church partly by rate and subscription of the inhabitants, and partly by the liberality of the Incorporated Church Building Society. Its present sittings, of which seventy are declared by a painted notice in a conspicuous part of the church to be free for ever, will accommodate an hundred and one persons; while there is ample space within the walls for further accommodation, if the population, which, including women and children, now amounts to an hundred and thirtyfour, should increase. For an extremely neat and commodious parsonage, for the neat stone font at the entrance of the church, and the neatly-sculptured altar of free-stone,-which is elevated three steps above the remainder of the chancel, and has no railings to intercept. the view of its appropriate carved emblems and ornaments,-the village is indebted to the taste and liberality of the present rector. The latter bears some resemblance to an ancient altar which may be seen at the church of All-Cannings, distant about sixteen miles north of this village, and affords a very gratifying contrast to those mean

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