COMMONS © OPEN SPACES 201 
earth, like the golden showers which fell on Danae in her 
prison. 
The attractive wood-clad hills of Bostall are the 
most remote of all London’s open spaces. They lie the 
furthest east on the fringe of the suburbs. From Bostall 
westward roofs and chimney-pots become continuous— 
Woolwich, Greenwich, Deptford, Bermondsey, South¬ 
wark getting more and more densely crowded. But 
westward also begins the chain of commons which circle 
the town round the southern border—with breaks, it is 
true, yet so nearly continuous that from the highest 
point of one, the view almost ranges on to the next. 
Only a deep valley, with Wickham Lane on the track 
of a Roman road, divides Bostall Wood from Plumstead 
Common. This is open and breezy, standing high 
above what was in ancient times the marsh overflowed by 
the Thames. The greater part is, however, used by the 
military, and the trample of horse artillery makes it look 
like a desert. It is a curious effect to see this part of 
the Common in winter. It has probably been used for 
manoeuvring all the week, and by Saturday afternoon 
there are pools of mud, and ruts, and furrows, and hoof- 
marks all over it. On this dreary waste hundreds of 
boys and young men, sorted according to age, play more 
or less serious football matches. The coats of the 
players, in four little heaps, do duty for goal-posts, 
and these are so thickly strewn over the surface, and 
the players so closely mingled, that the effect is like 
bands of savages fighting among their slain—the ancient 
barrow in the centre of the ground gives colour to the 
supposition. 
A sudden deep valley, called “ the Slade,” cuts the 
Common in two. In the hollow there are ponds, and on 
