AVEBURY 
enough, but they command some road or means ot approach : 
here at Avebury there would be no call for any fortification, for 
it is not a spot that could be selected either for attack or defence, 
and the great rampart with the ditch inside is itself sufficient 
evidence. We can only speculate, we cannot know for certain : 
all that we know is that in this great circle of Avebury we are 
in face of one of the oldest existing traces of man’s handiwork 
in our country. Curious traditions indeed would carry us back 
to patriarchal times. 
The interest of the place is not confined to the circle and the 
stones. Other threads of history are to be picked up to unite us 
with other periods of the past. The barrows on the downs, the 
old Roman road that ran close by, the Wansdyke, the camps, all 
have an interest to the lover of history. And in the village we 
follow on to times not quite so remote, and see in the old church 
the handiwork of Saxon and Norman builder, altered and 
adapted by more modern hands to modern needs, while one 
name of but a short while ago will tell us of the religious 
persecutions of the century just gone. 
A tribute of admiration must be paid likewise to the pic- 
turesque old Manor House of sixteenth century workmanship, 
and to the beauty of Nature’s handiwork in the avenues of trees 
that stretch beside it. It will be acknowledged that Avebury is 
a worthy place for a pilgrimage. 
And before leaving the neighbourhood the pilgrim must not 
fail to wend his way a little farther, and, as he takes his stand 
above the Cherhill “ White Horse ” let his eye wander over the 
scene below. The “ horse” is of no antiquarian interest, but a 
more recent imitation of famous figures. The view, however, is 
superb. Bowood, with its wealth of trees, and Blackland Park 
and the ridge beyond, whereon stand out the spire of the church 
at Derry Hill, and Maud Heath’s monument ; and the rolling 
downs over Heddington, whereon Cavalier and Parliamentarian 
fought the fight of Roundway Downs, and the tiny villages 
nestling in the trees ; and Caine with its grand old church, and 
memories of S. Dunstan and S. Edmund Rich, make up a 
charming picture in this North Wilts country. And the keen 
down air blows across to invigorate and brace the frame ; and 
the chalk that lies beneath the feet, and the wind-swept clumps 
of beeches on the heights, and the glorious woods below, combine 
to speak of a higher handiwork than man’s, and carry us back 
to a far remoter past than the old stones and rampart of 
Avebury itself. 
Herbert E. N. Bull. 
