A VISIT TO S EL BORNE. 
107 
and in tlie neiglibourhood, 1 looked diligently for the elegant 
mason work of the craftsmen of the last century, where chips 
of this rusty stone were stuck into the mortar joints of the free- 
stone walls, so that “strangers asked pleasantly whether we 
fastened our walls together with tenpenny nails.” At last I 
found such a wall in a house near the White Hart Inn, where 
the chips have all the appearance of the head of a rusty nail. 
The white freestone (or hrestone) is still quarried in the village. 
It is much jointed, and can be had only in blocks. The scarcity 
of flagstones is seen in the churchyards, where many graves 
are covered with shallow arches of brick. Tiny brick arches 
are also seen over ditches and small streams. 
From Oakhanger the way is through one of the “ hollow 
rocky lanes,” which White mentions as among the singularities 
of the place, “ worn down by the traffic of ages and the fretting 
of water.” Few things escaped the ken of this acute observer. 
This deepening by erosion of ancient road-tracks is now noticed 
in works on geology as a recent alteration of the earth’s surface. 
To Newton, where lived Gilbert White’s good neighbour and 
friend, 1 next turned my steps. This is on high ground, and 
the way lies across the hill. Here a narrow valley winds into 
the heart of the down for half a mile, though not a half furlong 
wide. The banks are very steep, and clothed with beech and 
brush-wood. The flat bottom, being of that soil which, refusing 
to grow wheat, is “ yet kindly for hops ” is under that culture, 
and a more delightful hop-garden there is not in Hampshire. 
Near this spot, in a beech-tree standing by itself on a little 
ridge, was a squirrel gathering his winter stores. He warmly 
resented my impertinent admiration and chattered angrily with 
impatient gestures. Since I would not go for his scolding, he 
retired sulkily to a higher branch, which he clasped, and lay 
motionless. After gathering nuts for a while on my own 
account, I came back to find him still fuming. He had come 
down the tree to his old place, and there sat with his back 
against the trunk, tail over head, and paws folded on his white 
waistcoat, the picture of a squirrel in the sulks, not ten feet 
above my head. It was in vain that I called and coaxed him : 
he would take no notice. 
It was late in the year for herborizing, but I looked out for 
such plants mentioned in the Natural History as were likely to 
be above ground. The mezereon on tl^ Hanger I missed, but 
found the stinking hellebore and the spurge laurel, and for the 
first time noticed how this last takes its name from the wood 
spurge, here very abundant in the tangle. Newton Valance 
lies high upon the chalk, but the surface-soil is clay with flints, 
the waste of ancient still loftier hills. These flints are often 
large and whole, and are much dug for road mending. The 
chalk itself, being of the lower beds, has few flints and they 
are not used here, as in Norfolk, for building. 
It is here with Nore Hill and the Hanger that the Hampshire 
