392 OUTDOOR LIFE IN ENGLAND 



teresting, and, when the valleys are filled with 

 mist, it requires but little stretch of imagination 

 to follow out the lines of headlands, bays, and 

 gulfs, as when the sea was there in very truth ; 

 and in the flints which are so thickly spread over 

 the short, sweet herbage, countless marine fossils 

 may be found. Is not, indeed, each grain of the 

 chalk which underlies the surface in itself a shell 

 of rarest beauty ? 



Here and there the lines of some Roman camp 

 are plainly visible, the position invariably one 

 which no General of modern days could improve 

 upon ; and as we survey the scene, we seem to 

 see the stalwart sentinel pacing to and fro on his 

 post, the thin blue columns of smoke curling 

 upwards from the camp-fires, to hear the clang- 

 ing of hammer on anvil as the armourers are hard 

 at work shaping sword and spearhead, and note the 

 well-guarded bullock-carts as they slowly mount 

 the hill, the wooden wheels creaking and groaning 

 under the load. And then all has vanished, and 

 the fairy-rings alone remain to mark the spots 

 where stood the tents of the now deserted camp- 

 ing-ground. 



That long, low mound betokens the grave of 

 some ancient warrior-chieftain ; the well-known 

 lines in * Westward Ho !' recur to mind, and it is 

 ' the old Norse Viking, in his crown of gold,' who 

 sleeps beside us. 



On many of the hillsides the gorse grows thick 

 and strong, acres and acres of it, providing a 



