Over the Mendips, 65 



seeming to enjoy themselves hugely. What will become of 

 that heretic who knocked out the ashes of his pipe on the 

 veritable altar-stone of the Arch Druid, is a fate too painful 

 for contemplation. 



From Stanton Drew we shape our course to the Men- 

 dips, through more hamlets and lanes. "We are coming 

 to Chew Magna," says a terrible Irish wit, who thus, by 

 one masterstroke, refers to the village we pass and the 

 luncheon we have in prospect. To avoid Harptree Hill — 

 a severe stretch for the teams — we are invited to walk 

 through the woods to Hazel Manor, whose owner is to 

 entertain us at that repast to which the Irish wit so broadly 

 referred. 



It is a stiff pull for the pedestrians over the slopes of these 

 .glorious woods-; but every breathing-space gives us superb 

 landscapes. We are face to face with the range known as 

 the Mendip Hills. Under the sunny sky they smile gladly 

 upon us ] as the clouds are driven over the sun by the south 

 wind they put on ever-varying expressions of shade and 

 sadness. The Mendips are exquisite as specimens of highly 

 cultivated hill country that is not quite mountain, but some- 

 thing more than upland. They are pastoral to the very 

 summit, richly wooded, parcelled out into cornfields and 

 pastures by high hedges, and studded with homesteads and 

 villages. The hills are boldly and regularly formed, and 

 stretch away, as we see them from Hazel Manor, for miles, 

 always telling the same tale of peace and plenty. 



At Hazel Manor we are entertained with lavish hospi- 

 tality ; and the host, like a sensible gentleman, puts a veto 

 on speechifying. In spite of this — for man, when he has 

 become a member of a learned association, is essentially a 

 speechmaking animal 1 — we do get "a few remarks; "and 

 one of the speakers openly confesses — " The chairman says 



