By the Rev. W. C. Plenderleath, 61 
were entrenched in that long encampment with double ramparts, of 
which we can still see traces on the top of the hill. The siege is 
said to have lasted for fourteen days, at the end of which time the 
Danes surrendered at discretion. And then, doubtless, the question 
arose of placing some monument to commemorate so important a 
victory. 
Now, seven years previously, Alfred, who was then Commander- 
in-Chief under his brother, Ethelred, had defeated the Danes in the 
great battle of Ashdown, and had (if our traditions be trustworthy) 
commemorated that event by cutting the first of the white horses 
on the side of Uffington Hill, in Berkshire. What more likely than 
that he should now proceed to mark this still more signal and im- 
portant victory in a similar manner,—or, I may add, that the icono- 
graphic powers of his artists should have so increased as you may 
judge by looking “on this picture and on that”? [See figs. 1 and 
2, pp. 66 and 67]. For this second animal is, I think we may 
venture to say, a good deal more like a horse and a good deal less 
like a crocodile than the former. And it is indeed possible, for a 
reason which I shall presently proceed to shew you, that his pro- 
portions may have approached originally even nearer to such as 
would commend themselves to General FitzWygram or to the 
Master of the Beaufort Hunt. 
But more than a century, alas! has passed away since mortal eye 
has looked upon this memorial of Alfred’s victory. For in 1778 a 
wretch of the name of Gee, who was steward to Lord Abingdon, 
came down to survey that nobleman’s estates in the parish of 
Westbury, and conceived the idea of immortalizing his name by 
“re-modelling ” the White Horse—much as some of our restorers 
have in times past “ re-modelled” those dingy old Raffaelles and 
Lionardos and Guercinos in too many English galleries, and given 
them such nice clean flesh tints and such beautiful black eyebrows, 
and such charming pink lips ! 
The drawing upon p. 67 is enlarged from one given in Gough’s 
Camden, which was made only six years before its destruction. It 
faces, as you will see, to what heralds and numismatologists would 
call the sinister side, whereas Mr. Gee’s horse faces to dexter. And 
