44 Wild Life in a Southern County 



from the great earthwork, hitherto the central post of 

 observation, I turn my face once more towards its distant 

 rampart, just visible, showing over the hills a line drawn 

 against the sky. Here, whence I start, is another such a 

 camp, with mound and fosse ; beyond the one I have more 

 closely described some four miles is still a third, all con- 

 nected by the same green track running along the ridges 

 of the downs and entirely independent of the roads of 

 modern days. They form a chain of forts on the edge of 

 the downland overlooking the vale. At starting the track 

 is but just distinguishable from the general sward of the 

 hill : the ruts are overgrown with grass — but the tough 

 ' tussocky ' kind, in which the hares hide, avoids the path, 

 and by its edge marks the way. Soon the ground sinks, 

 and then the cornfields approach, extending on either 

 hand — barley, already bending under the weight of the 

 awn, swaying with every gentle breath of air, stronger 

 oats and wheat, broad squares of swede and turnip and 

 dark-green mangold. 



Plough and harrow press hard on the ancient track, 

 and yet dare not encroach upon it. With varying width, 

 from twenty to fifty yards, it runs like a green riband 

 through the sea of corn — a width that allows a flock of 

 sheep to travel easily side by side, spread abroad, and 

 snatch a bite as they pass. Dry, shallow trenches full of 

 weeds, and low narrow mounds, green also, divide it from 

 the arable land ; and on these now and then grow storm- 

 stunted hawthorn bushes, gnarled and aged. On the 

 banks the wild thyme grows in great bunches, emitting 

 an exquisite fragrance — luxurious cushions these to rest 

 upon beneath the shade of the hawthorn, listening to the 

 gentle rustle of the wheat as the wind rushes over it. 

 Away yonder the shadows of the clouds come over the 



