A CLIFF. 71 



CHAPTER IV. 



^i& B0mini0ns :— t^e ^Deaootis— iHealioins— ant> Mater. 



There is a part of the wood where the bushes grow but 

 thinly and the ashstoles are scattered at some distance 

 from each other. It is on a steep slope — almost cliff — 

 where the white chalk comes to the surface. On the edge 

 above rise tall beech trees with smooth round trunks, 

 whose roots push and project through the wall of chalk, 

 and bend downwards, sometimes dislodging lumps of 

 rubble to roll headlong among the bushes below. A few 

 small firs cling half-way up, and a tangled mass of brier 

 and bramble climbs nearly to them, with many a stout 

 thistle flourishing vigorously. 



To get up this cliff is a work of some little difficulty : 

 it is done by planting the foot on the ledges of rubble, or 

 in the holes which the rabbits have made, holding tight to 

 roots which curl and twist in fantastic shapes, or to the 

 woodbine hanging in festoons from branch to branch. 

 The rubble under foot crumbles and slips, the roots tear 

 up bodily from the thin soil, the branches bend, and the 

 woodbine ' gives,' and the wayfarer may readily descend 



