16 RAMBLES BOUND FOLKESTONE. 



of the Manor ; the small patches of wood still exist- 

 ing near Cheriton and Newington are probably the 

 remaining trees of this once noble park. In the 

 words of Mr. Mackie "Peace be to his ashes, but I 

 wish he had let it alone ; " why he did it we cannot 

 say, probably from circumstances over which he had 

 lost control ; since then Folkestone has been treeless. 

 May success attend the efforts recently made to 

 restore them in the town itself. 



From our resting place an easy path leads up the 

 side of the hill, bordered by a hedge in which flourish 

 luxuriantly wild Eoses, the White and Black Bryony, 

 the Mealy Guelder Eose, Dogwood and Privet. At 

 the top on the right is a little copse charitably spared 

 (let us hope) by the farmer, rich in Orchids, Legu- 

 minosse, and Knapweeds. It was here that 

 in 1870 I saw nay first and only Golden 

 Oriole, and a splendid bird it was. A gorgeous 

 visitor like this is soon noted, and as it went down 

 into the hollows I saw the bird catchers on the alert 

 gazing with wistful eyes and ready nets. I am happy 

 in being able to record their disappointment. Now 

 let us mount to the summit ; have you not already 

 wondered at the curious shape of the hill, and what 

 the meaning is of the evidently artificial formation 

 of the top ? Well, in ah 1 probability, it is a barrou-, 

 an old British or Saxon burial place ; but as to who 

 it was, or how long ago the burial took place, I can 

 tell you nothing. Men talk of a bloody engagement 

 in the year of grace 456, somewhere in the neigh- 

 bourhood, between the Saxons under Hengist, and 

 the Britons led by Vortimer, who vainly sought to 

 make up for his father's lack of patriotism ; it has 



