MILBORNE ST. ANDREW 267 



and the days of road-travel are beyond the recollection 

 of the oldest inhabitant. Here, in the midst of the 

 village, the street widens ont, where the old ' White 

 Hart,' now the Post Office, with a great effigy of a 

 White Hart, and a number of miniature cannons on 

 the porch roof, waits for the coaches that come no 

 more, and for the dashing carriages and post-chaises 

 that were driven away with their drivers and their 

 gouty red-faced occupants to Hades, long, long ago. 

 Is the ' White Hart,' standing like so many of these 

 old hostelries beside the highway, w^aiting successfully 

 for the revival of the roads, and will it live over the 

 brave old days again with the coming of the Motor Car? 



Meanwhile, given fine weather, there are few 

 pleasanter places to spend a reminiscent afternoon in 

 than Milborne St. Andrew. 



The old church is up along the hillside, reached with 

 the aid of a bye-road. Its tower, like that of Winter- 

 borne Whitchurch, shows the curious and rather pleas- 

 ing local fashion of building followed four hundred years 

 or so back, consisting of four to six courses of nobbled 

 flints alternatinsf with a course of ashlar. A stone in 

 the east wall of the chancel to the memory of William 

 Eice, servant to two of the local squires here for more 

 than sixty years, ending in 182G, has the curious par- 

 ticulars : — 



He superintended the Harriers, and was the first ^lan who 

 hunted a Pack of Roebuck Hounds. 



At a point a mile and a half farther used to stand 

 Dewlish turnpike gate, where the tolls were taken 

 before coming down into Piddletown. 



