PLUMPTON AND ITS COUNTRY 73 



for that matter, bell, I never could make out, but 

 as ''a bell of brass " is the standard, we will bring 

 that in.) A rosy apple-faced little man he is, 

 with a delightful frock all over quiltings and 

 smockings, and a pair of nimble little legs in 

 leather gaiters, warranted by wear to stand any 

 weather. You see that hill in front of you, a 

 furlong and more high from foot to crest, with 

 a road cutting up its face, quartering it in a 

 way? Good! Now you may not see, but will 

 believe me when I tell you that Ditchling Common 

 lies some miles away from where we are, and is 

 a great, roomy, open expanse. Well, the last 

 time that I called on my young-old friend he 

 was not at home, because he had gone off on 

 foot to find and bring back single-handed some 

 runaway cattle reported to have located them- 

 selves up there. Not bad for eighty, is it ? And 

 as to the Borstal — that is what Sussexers call the 

 hill and its descending road (you see a Borstal 

 stake in the Plumpton programme) — I would 

 back mine ancient to make straight up the grass 

 while most of us toiled by the road, and, when we 

 were puffing and blowing, after winning to the 

 top, find wind enough to tell us all about Plump- 

 ton Place, a fine manor house once, and its moat, 

 and the reedy pond, and what the fox does if 

 found in this part or that, and the company he 

 has seen at Plumpton Crossways, meets of the 

 hounds, and a lot more. 



A very swell manor house this was once upon 

 a time, as you would scarcely believe on looking 

 at it now. I wonder the owner has let it go so 

 wrong. The moat used to be noted for its bright, 

 clear water, which shows that the Mascall, late 

 Marescal, who first brought carp from the Danube 



