TENTH DAY--EAST HENDRED TO WANBOROUGH, BY LOCKINGE PARK, WANTAGE,
ASHBURY, AND BISHOPSTONE
On the following morning early I returned to where I had left my
conjectured road, which I shall now call Ickleton Street, at the
crossing half a mile south of East Hendred Church. The eastern road at
the crossing came from the south-east (out of Hungerford Lane) and was
only for a few hundred yards in the line of Ickleton Street, falling
into it a hundred yards or so west of Aldfield Common, where I had
lost the road. The western road was apparently mine, but it was so
unimportant for _through_ traffic that though the eastern road forked
on entering the northern or Hendred road, neither of the forks ran
exactly into Ickleton Street. Between these forks was a triangular
waste of yellow parsnip, wild carrot, and dock, uneven from digging,
and somewhat above the roads which were sunken by downhill wearing.
Ickleton Street ran for a third of a mile straight westward to a
cross-track at the East and West Hendred boundary. It was hedgeless
as before, and being on a slight depression the horizon was often a
very near one of corn, topped by a distant bright cloud or cloud-shaped
dark clump of beech. At this cross-track I had to turn a few yards
south and then westward along a track of the same kind. Not being
sunk, or raised, or hedged, or banked, or ditched, the road could be
ploughed up easily and its course slightly changed, as here, to serve
a barn. This was Tames Barn, a thatched quadrangle of new ricks and
old barns and sheds built of boards now heavily lichened. Past the
barn it went as before, flat and hard-beaten, with broad ruts, and a
slight dip on the right side--a wall not half as deep as the corn was
high; there were a few blackthorns on this side. On the left sheep were
folded in clover. Ahead the Lockinge Woods showed their tops between
the rounds of Roundabout Hill, which was newly reaped, and Goldbury
Hill, which was part stubble, part aftermath. At the first turning to
West Hendred, which made the road crook a little to the south--and in
this crook--there were two or three rough sarsens, iron-coloured but
blotched with orange and dull silver, lying deep in the grass. A little
way back I had noticed another on the left, and there was another, I
think, east of Arfield Farm, beside the track.
Past the second turning to West Hendred (from East Ginge) the tiny
dip or wall below the right side of the road became a pleasant, high,
green wall with blackthorns and elders on it, and the road was a green
one, flowery with scabious, and had a bank above it, with barley at
the edge. Then the little Ginge brook and its hollow of elms and ash
trees interrupted the road. But a few yards beyond it was clear again
where the hard road went at right angles away from it to Red Barn.
It was now above its green bank, and this was eight or ten feet high
with blackthorns on it. It curved slightly round the southern base
of Roundabout Hill between the stubble, and being joined by a track
from the south it was worn almost grassless. After crossing a track
to Ardington, it was slightly raised above the fields on both sides.
A hard road joined it, and it was hardened itself and had a line of
young beeches and elms on each side. This was to lead up to one of the
gates of Lockinge Park, which it entered and disappeared. It must have
been bent--probably southward--by the swelling land of the park, but
over two centuries of ploughing have left nothing of it visible on the
surface.
I turned sharply southward at the edge of this park and presently back
to the north-west, past a house of great size with some conservatories,
elms, lawns, and water garden--the shadowy and bright grass occupied at
that hour by a lap-dog and many swallows. The road, lined on both sides
by trees and overhung by valerian and rose-of-Sharon, had an unpleasant
sense of privacy meant for others.
The turning eastward out of this road by East Lockinge post office
was in line with Ickleton Street, but signs of an exit from the park
on the opposite side of the road were obliterated by cottages and
gardens. This turning I took, and when it curved decidedly to the right
a footpath on the left, between a hedge and some allotment gardens,
preserved its original line. This path led westward into a road coming
south from Goddard’s Barn. On the right-hand side of the entering of
the path into this road lay the good house of West Lockinge Farm, its
barn and sheds and lodges gathered about it on one side of the road,
and its ricks and elm trees opposite. The road was half farm-yard and
half road and littered with straw and husks, where the fowls were
stalking and pecking with a laziness that seemed perfectly suited to a
Sunday early morning following a blazing harvest Saturday.
[Illustration: Port Way, Wantage.]
I hoped to find a cart track going west from the other side of this
road. For about a quarter of a mile I thought I found it raised a
little in the stubble. It had been sown and reaped like the rest of
the field, but it was a little weedier and grassier. It was making
over the swelling arable for Lark Hill and the south edge of Wantage,
but I could not find it in the clover nor in the barley beyond that. I
therefore turned north into Round Hill, a straight piece of hard road
going west into Wantage, with no hedges but grassy borders between it
and the arable on either side. This may be the Icknield Way or its
successor. It led into the main road at the edge of Wantage, and this
I followed into the town. In the first few yards I noticed the sign
of the “Lord Nelson” on the left. I recognized it as the work of that
venerable artist who designs the faces of guys and turnip-men all
over the country. I could tell that the man upon the signboard was
Nelson because the uniform corresponded to the name painted below. The
face was as much like Nelson as King George III, and it was entirely
different from that on the other side of the board. Nevertheless, the
effort was to be preferred to a more accurate portrait painted by a
builder and decorator’s man from a picture in a history book. It was
an effort to represent an image of a hero. The builder and decorator’s
man would have aimed simply at reproducing something which impressed
him because it was in a printed book: his horses do not represent
what he knows or feels about horses, but what he is able to crib from
a photographer in a book advertising somebody’s food or embrocation;
his “Coach and Horses” is painful to see, because it ought obviously
to be in a book. May it be long before he is allowed to molest the
shape of the horse or dragon carved into the turf of White Horse Hill.
In its present shape it could not be used to advertise horse food or
embrocation: but the horse above Alton Priors could be so used and
doubtless one day will be.
As I was leaving Wantage I heard a blackbird singing in a garden beyond
the church. This was near the middle of August and a full month since
I had last heard one. The heat had dried up the birds’ songs all much
earlier than usual, and now the rain of the last night seemed to be
reviving one. The song was perfect and as strange a thing as last
year’s snow.
Crossing the Letcombe brook I was out again between hedges and in
the company of telegraph posts on the road to Ashbury, Bishopstone,
and Swindon, which is called in the inch Ordnance Map “Roman Way.”
It seemed the only continuation of Ickleton Street, and as there was
no other road with anything like the same course in the valley I had
little doubt that it was the “Icleton-way” of the early eighteenth
century going “all under the hills between them and Childrey, Sparsholt
and Uffington, so under White Horse Hill, leaving Woolston and Compton
on the right, thence to Ashbury and Bishopston.” The foot of the
Downs was about a mile on the left, and between them and the road
the cornland dipped considerably. Looking over the hedge I saw first
a broad land of grass and then a line of telegraph wires making for
Letcombe and dividing the grass from a broad band of ripe corn; beyond
that was a band of very green roots; then a band of newly ploughed
earth; then stubble dappled with dark corn stacks, and above them the
hill.
[Illustration: Under White Horse Hill.]
My road was a narrow one, and at first borderless and worn to some
depth below the neighbouring fields. At the top of its ascent out
of Wantage it had a bank on the right, a fence on the left instead
of hedges. After passing Ickleton House at a right-hand turning, I
reached two cottages on the right at the crossing of a road from
Faringdon to Letcombe. This I entered on the south side to look for a
road between mine and the hills. A parish boundary follows this road,
and also the lane which I turned into on the right almost at once.
The lane was green and ran under some beeches and a natural turf wall
south-westward. It was deep worn and rutted as it descended through
the corn and barley to a cross-track under another turf wall making
from Letcombe Regis Church to Childrey. I went on until my track became
a hard road to Lambourn, and as I had seen no sign of an alternative
to the “Roman Way,” I turned to the right and entered it again at
the crossing for Childrey and Letcombe Bassett. Elms clustered at
the crossing, and the road was deeply worn between grassy banks. It
continued to have hardly any green edge, and as it was usually rising
or falling it was sunk more or less below its original level; in one
place, for example, the left bank was nearly twenty feet high, and I
could see nothing but the clouds all sopped in sunlight. The land was
almost entirely arable on either side, with standing corn or stooks or
stubble. In one place, past the turning on the right to Westcott, which
is between Sparsholt and Kingston Lisle, the road was on a terrace,
having a bank on the left and falling on the right to corn and a
thatched farm under trees: there were elms and beeches on either side,
but no hedge. The trees of Lisle Park gave lines of handsome beeches
to either side of the road, trees of less than a hundred years, all
well-shaped and, in fact, almost uniform, and planted at reasonable
intervals. The ridge of the Downs was not a mile distant, and from it
the grass of a yellowish green colour undulated without a break to the
road, sprinkled with beeches and barred with fir plantations. Past the
Blowingstone Hill and the turning to Kingston Lisle these undulations
are bare and carved by a steep-walled natural cutting. At this point
the top of the Downs was only half a mile away, and thenceforward it
was never more than a mile until beyond Bishopstone. Actually the
nearest point to the ridge was perhaps where the road twisted sharp to
the left to the bottom of a coombe and then sharp back again to get
out of it. As the floor of the coombe sloped upwards into the hill,
these twists gave a road which was bound to cross it at the lowest
possible gradient. The coombe had steep, smooth sides of yellowish
grass and a winding flat floor, and through the big scattered thorns
and elders of it a track went down to Fawler. The road wound again to
round a high bank on the left and again to circumvent a thorny hollow
on the right, and soon the White Horse was coming into view. There were
woods steep above on the left; there had been hedges on both sides
since Blowingstone Hill, often bushy and thick and overscrambled by
climbers, as, for example, near Britchcombe Farm. Here the road had
a green, sunken course divided from the hard one by a thicket. This
farm-house and its thatched, white-stone dependencies, their trees,
their elders and nettles, stood close to the road, but a little back
from it and a little above it, under the almost precipitous ash wood of
the hill; and away from it on the other side of the road sloped another
coombe of thorns, and also of willows and some water.
[Illustration: Dragon Hill.]
A little past Britchcombe Farm the Dragon Hill came in sight above a
slope of oats and yellowed grass. Then the road twisted again, left and
right, to cross another coombe, grown with larch trees on its lower
half and having a pool in it near Woolstone Lodge; but the upper half
bending back under the Dragon Hill, with a few thorns on its steep and
furrowed walls. Rising up out of the coombe, as usual the road was
between steep banks, and on them thorn bushes, scabious, and meadow
crane’s-bill flowers.
At the crossing to Shrivenham and Lambourn I caught sight of the
crest and haggard beech clump of Barbury above the nearer hills. This
crossing was within a quarter of a mile of Compton Beauchamp, the last
of more than half a dozen villages which the road passed by on its
right hand without touching. Ashbury was the first village traversed
by the road since Upton. As I approached Ashbury through corn that now
ran right to the top of the Downs, I had a bank above me on the left
and one below me on the right, and I could see now both Liddington
and Barbury clumps, and to the left of Liddington one high, bare breast
of turf. A lesser road turned down to Odstone Farm, which I was very
glad to see again, not a quarter of a mile on my right--its five plain
windows in a row, two in the roof, and those below not to be counted
because of the garden shrubs. It was a grey, stone house with a steep,
grey roof and a chimney stack at either side; there were elms behind
it, and tiled and thatched sheds all on its right hand; and the road
going straight down to its left side.
[Illustration: Green Terrace, near Ashbury.]
The right-hand hedge gave way to show me the elms and thatched barns
and ricks of Ashbury, its church tower among trees rather apart and
nearer the Downs. The road descended under a steep left-hand bank,
with a green course parallel. It turned right and then left round some
elm trees and past a hollow on the right containing a broad millpond
enclosed in a parallelogram of elms. At Ashbury the road turned to the
right away from the church to the “Rose and Crown,” and the two elm
trees standing in mid-street, and then back again to the left into
its original line. But parallel with the road a footpath ran from the
church on a terrace just wide enough for a waggon. It had a green
wall above and below, grass on the left, sweet-smelling lucerne on
the right. It rose and fell more than the road as it made for Idstone
between the barley. The terrace seemed to be continued across the
deeply worn road from Swinley Down; but the path turned to the right
and into the main road. This terrace road seemed to be a very possible
course for an old, though perhaps only an alternative road.
I stopped for a little time at Ashbury, and asking for tea at a cottage
and shop combined, I was asked into a silent but formidable Sunday
assembly of three incompatible and hostile but respectful generations:
a severe but cheerful grandmother in black and spectacles with one
finger still marking a place in the Bible; a preoccupied, morose
mother, also in black; a depressed but giddy daughter fresh from the
counter of a London shop, and already wondering what she was going
to do at Ashbury. This girl poured out my tea and told me that there
were some very good apples on the tree next door. Neither she nor her
relatives, because it was Sunday, could buy these or in any way procure
them, so she told me, though she had begun to want them very much
after half a day at her native village; if I went--and there seemed
no objection to the damnation of a casual wayfarer--I could probably
get some. The old lady who lived in the cottage next door said, as if
she were stating a well-known fact in the natural history of Ashbury,
that she had no apples, that they were very troublesome to knock down,
that none had fallen from the trees during the day, and that--she
was perfectly certain--there would be none until the morrow. On the
morrow I hoped to be many miles from Ashbury, and so I wished her a
good afternoon in spite of the rigid sabbatarianism of her trees. I
returned to the cottage where I had been drinking tea and told the girl
that no apples would fall until Monday morning, and asked her if she
knew any other kind of apple trees in Ashbury. Perhaps it was as well
that she did not, for I found that Sunday’s tea cost twice as much as
Saturday’s or Monday’s--it being apparently the right of the righteous
to prey upon the damned, even if in so doing they put themselves into
a position apparently as graceless as that of the damned. I thought
of asking a clergyman if this was so, and seeing a man whom I took to
be a clergyman, because his collar was fastened behind instead of in
front, I walked after him. But he suddenly stopped and went into the
very cottage of the old lady whose apples would not fall before Monday
morning, and this looked so like a conspiracy that I hastened away,
glad to have made these discoveries in the natural history of Ashbury.
[Illustration: Coombe at Bishopstone.]
The deeply worn road from Swinley Down cut across my road, south of
the green terrace road, at Idstone, and sent it northwards twenty
yards or so, just as Akeman Street cutting across the Upper and Lower
Icknield Ways near Tring sent each nearly a mile northwards. After this
I could see no trace of the little terrace road, though it was possibly
marked by a bank dividing the next fields to the road from those
beyond, and then by a mere division between crops to a point above or
beyond Bishopstone. Half-way between Idstone and Bishopstone the road
entered Wiltshire without ceremony. At the turning just before reaching
Bishopstone the road was worn very deep, and above it a steep-walled,
bare coombe ran up into the Downs with a track along its edge. More
often than not after leaving Wantage the road had been worn thus deep,
because it traversed a country of numerous and abrupt undulations;
these made fairly steep ascents and descents necessary, and they
invariably mean the hollowing out of any unmetalled, i.e. of any
ancient and not Roman road. The plough could never do any harm to this
road. But the “Port Way” between Wantage and Streatley it could hide
from most eyes in a few seasons. The Ickleton Street between Upton
and Lockinge Park would almost disappear under a single ploughing, and
doubtless often has done so, to reappear in the same or a parallel
course when needed.
At Bishopstone the road twisted right and left almost as at Ashbury.
This was into a coombe with a little stream in it, and there were
some signs that the old way had rather been left and right--that is,
sloping down to the ascending bottom of the coombe and up again--as
in other coombes. But the coombe and the bare Downs about it were
so shaped by nature, by wearing, and apparently by deliberate but
inexplicable cutting, that a mere road could not be traced with
certainty. The coombe branched as it rose up into the Downs and formed
several enormous convexities and concavities of turf. Several of their
converging slopes were cut evenly into three or four, or nearly a
dozen, green terraces like staircases, all of which, had a company of
giants sat there, would have given a view of the spring-head below.
Sheep were strewn over some of these terraces, making arrangements of
white dots of a fascinating irregularity. Unless it has become a trick,
only a great artist could make similar arrangements of equal beauty.
The unknown laws which produce these inevitable accidents are great
managers of the beautiful. The succession of bays in an island coast
and the general form of the island itself--of course, particularly of
islands off our own coast--are beautiful in their way. The shape of
England and Wales, the shape of Ireland, of Man, and of the whole
flock of the Hebrides please me with their unity, fascinate me with
their complexity; a mistaken map of any such known place is as bad
æsthetically as geographically. Children are fond of inventing islands
with marvellous inlets more romantic than anything on the west coast of
Scotland or Scandinavia. But I have never seen one of these invented
islands that I could like apart from its creator, or its names, or its
sites marked “Buried gold,” and so on. They are incredible and raise
no wonder. They are not masters’ work. I do not know if geologists can
support me, but Leonardo’s Cave in “The Virgin of the Rocks” always
makes me uneasy by what seems to me to be its artificial impossibility.
Another great picture which is, I think, faulty in a similar way
reminds me of another beauty--the beauty of the scattering and
gathering of the stars. I never look at Titian’s “Bacchus and Ariadne”
without feeling the constellation in that glorious purple is an unhappy
invention. It may be my poor astronomy, but I should be inclined to say
that stars never could be spread exactly as they are in that picture.
It is not merely that there is (I believe) no such constellation, but
that the form is one which, for some reason, they would avoid, though
by picking a star here and a star there it might be patched up. Birds
always fly and fishing-boats always sail in these just patterns.
Some are so just that, like that of the sheep above Bishopstone, I
should like to have them copied on paper to look at for their mystical
arithmetic.
The village, the mill, and the church were lower down to the right
below the spring, on the modern road and its northward branches. Only
a cottage, with a thatched roof on a level with my feet, lay near the
green coombe track above the water. The road went on again between
corn and roots, westwards now, and gradually farther from the Downs,
until a cross-road from Bourton cut across it and sent it southwards a
quarter-mile by a willowy spring before it turned west again.
This road southward into the Marlborough and Hungerford road may yet
be shown to be part of the Icknield Way. For at Totterdown, a mile
and a half beyond, it curves round and makes a line with the road to
Chisledon under Liddington Hill--the road much resembling the Icknield
Way which is called “Ridgeway” on the maps. It rose now, a hedged and
elmy road, to five hundred feet, and had a deep, grassy hollow and elm
trees below, between it and the cornland of the Downs. It dipped to a
spring and a post office at Hinton Parva; it dipped again and rose to a
view over the northern vale to the dim, watery wall of the Cotswolds.
At this height it crossed Ermine Street just after passing a “Black
Horse.” All four ways at the crossing were deeply worn and made a pit
with bushy banks and tiny green triangles of waste in the midst.
In a quarter-mile past the crossing of Ermine Street I was at
Wanborough. There the road forked at the “Calley Arms.” There is not a
scrap of real or pretended documentary evidence for either road, at
least until the place-names mentioned in the Saxon charter relating to
Wanborough have been identified. The left-hand road had the advantage
of keeping near the hills, instead of going clean away west like the
right-hand one. This right-hand road may at last be connected with one
of those rumoured roads going westwards, under the secondary line of
chalk hills, past Holy Cross at Swindon, past Elcombe and Studley to
St. Anne’s-in-the-Wood at Brislington, in Somerset, or to Devonshire;
and this continuation may at last be shown to be entitled to the name
of Icknield Way. I followed the left-hand road because it seemed
possible to connect it with one, very much like the Icknield Way and in
a similar relation to the Downs, going south-westward through Wroughton
and Broad Hinton, and from there either to Avebury or to Yatesbury, and
so by Juggler’s Lane to Cherhill on its way to Bath.
Liddington clump, the straight ridge and the “castle” rampart upon
it, were clear ahead as I took this turning. Wanborough’s towered and
spired church stood at the top of a slope of grass on my right. It was
a crooked, hedged road, with a grassy edge and a path on the grass; and
the telegraph posts followed it. It passed out of Wanborough parish
at a tiny stream that crossed the road in a deep, narrow cleft with
willows and willow herbs below on the right, and in the widening cleft
a derelict mill, a steep garden plot, and a row of beehives. It rose up
narrow, deep, and steep to the “Bell” at Liddington. There I turned to
the left into the Swindon road, and almost at once to the left again,
leaving the church on my left. This took me past two or three houses
of Medbourne, and sharp to the left and right through the hamlet of
Badbury, where a great elm stands at the first turning above a deep
hollow and a road going northward down it to the right. Then crossing
the Roman road from Mildenhall to Wanborough Nythe, I was at Chisledon
and another cleft in the land. This cleft is often precipitous, and so
narrow that you could almost play cards across it. A streamlet and a
single line of railway wind along the bottom. The church stands at the
edge where it is gentler, and the village is scattered over the slopes
and edges.
I was hungry when I knocked at the door of the first inn at half-past
five. On the opposite side of the road a small, quiet crowd of drinkers
in black coats and hats waited to be let in at six. No one answered
my knock. I knocked louder, and still louder, on the woodwork of the
door. Then I rapped the glass, and rapped louder and many times. But
no one came, and as I was too hungry to want justice I went to the
next inn. Here the door was instantly opened by a little red-faced
landlady with fuzzy hair and a gnomish face. She was swift and clean,
and so light and quick was her step that every time I heard her
approaching I expected a child. She was sorry to say that she had no
bed to spare, but told me of someone that might. I tried in vain, then
called opposite where “refreshments” were advertised. An enormous
woman stood wedged in the doorway; she was black-haired, sullen, and
faintly moustached, and she had her hands hanging down because there
was no room on either side of her to clasp them, and no room in the
doorway for her to rest them upon the fat superincumbent upon her hips.
I said good evening, and she remained silent. I asked her if she had
a bed to spare. She looked me up and down with a movement of head and
eyes, and asked me gradually where I came from. I was so taken aback
that I told her like a child, “From East Hendred”--which was absurd.
She retreated to ask her husband. He appeared alone, and hanging down
his head, shook it, and said that he did not think he could spare me a
bed. Having no gift of speech, I turned very rapidly away from him and
back to the inn. The landlady thought of someone else, made inquiries,
and assured me that the bed would be ready when Mrs. Somebody got
back from church. So I went out and looked at Burderop, Ladder Hill,
and the turning “To the Downs and Rockley.” The woman was back from
church and opened the door to me. She had a background of women taking
off Sunday hats and putting away veils and prayer-books, and said she
was sorry, but a niece had come, and there was no room for me. In the
darkening street I saw an old man at a gate with a genial face and the
mouth of one accustomed to horses. I asked him if he knew of a bed
to spare. “No--oh-oh-oh--no,” he chuckled, with increased geniality.
“You’ve come to the wrong place.... Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho no,” he continued.
“I can’t tell you why; but if you want a bed you have to go to a
town.” He was only a visitor to Chisledon, and I wished him better
treatment than I had got. I set out for Swindon. In about a mile I
came to another inn, where I had always enjoyed the bread and cheese
and ale, and I unwillingly silenced a black-coated company of grave
drinkers standing at the bar. They suspended their glasses while the
landlord said that it was absolutely impossible to get a bed that side
of Swindon. I tried at Coate. The barmaid appealed to Mr. MacFaggart,
who was standing by--“Perhaps Mrs. MacFaggart can spare a bed?” “No.”
This series of refusals was, I am convinced, pure ill-luck. But the
stout woman refused me, almost beyond doubt, because I was a stranger
whom she could not immediately classify. I could not be classed as
a “gentleman,” as a young “gent” or “swell,” or as a plain “young
fellow.” She decided not to risk it. Perhaps she had savings about the
house. Or did she think that underneath less than two days’ beard, that
oldish and not very clean Burberry waterproof, those good but very
baggy trousers, murder was lurking? No, probably she felt not the very
slightest inclination to please me, and as it only meant half a crown,
her one difficulty in refusing was her natural sullenness increased by
the presence of the nondescript and unsympathetic casual stranger on a
Sunday. Country people know a country gentleman, a sporting financier,
a tradesman, a young townsman (clerk or artisan), a working man, and a
real tramp or roadster. Some of them know the artist or distinguished
foreigner, with a foot of hair, broad-brimmed hat, and corduroy or soft
tweeds, a cloak and an ostentatious pipe, tasselled, or of enormous
bulk, or elaborate form or unusual substance. Some know the hairy and
hygienic man in sandals. To be elbowed out at nightfall after a day’s
walking by an unconscious conspiracy of a whole village was enough to
produce either a hate of Chisledon or a belief that the devil or a
distinguished relative was organizing the opposition. But during those
four unexpected miles to Swindon in the volcanic heat of evening,
which produced several pains and a constant struggle between impatient
mind and dull, tired body, I felt chiefly: I suffer; I do not want
to suffer; and only now and then the face of Mrs. Stout, or of Mrs.
Smallbeer, or of the genial old man with the horsy mouth, came into my
head, and turned my depression to fury.
Possibly they were afraid of German spies at Chisledon. Not far from
Maidstone in the summer of 1910 some poor cottage children were telling
me how a German spy wanted to rob them of the lunch they were taking to
school. He was a dark stranger with a beard, and he was waiting about
at a crossing partly overhung by trees; and they were convinced that he
wished to steal their food, and that his reason for doing so was his
position as German spy.
At Swindon I felt what a man feels in a place where he knows one man
instead of knowing scores of children and feeling that every passing
stranger was of the same family, ready at a touch to be changed to
a friend. But I had no difficulty in finding a bed surrounded by the
following decorations: pictures of ships in quiet and in roaring seas;
of roses twining about the words, “The Lord shall be thy everlasting
light”; of a cart-horse going through a ford with three children on his
back; of an Italian boatman and three buxom girls, one clinking glasses
with him; advertisements of an aperient and of cheap cigarettes. The
advertisement of cigarettes dwarfed all the rest. For not only was the
lettering large, but there was also a coloured picture of a swarthy
and hearty woman practically naked to the waist. She was smiling with
her dark eyes, and her lips were parted. I could not imagine what she
had to do with cigarettes of any kind. Was there a kind of suggestion
that these bold, bad, under-dressed foreign beauties--undoubtedly
beauties--were capable of smoking the cigarettes? Or was the picture
meant to be a stimulus to some, a satisfaction to others, of those who
sat at their ease drinking and smoking and thinking of women? In the
taproom of the most rustic public houses two or three of these women
sometimes adorn the walls, along with a picture of a diseased cow and
of its mouth, stomach, and udder. Some are dark, some are fair, and, I
think, certainly meant to be English; but all are incompletely draped
and unashamed. The dark ones are vaunting heathen beauties, the fair
tend to be insipid, with expressions borrowed from the pious virgins
of religious pictures. Sometimes the Bacchante and the pious virgin
are to be seen side by side, the sacred one being supplied by the
village grocer at Christmas. They are equally beautiful, i.e. have
regular features, perfect complexions, and expressionless mouths, and
are doing nothing in particular except posing so that the artist shall
observe their bosoms, or, in the case of sacred pictures, their throats
and the whites of their eyes. I do not think it could be shown that
these pictures spoil the chances of girls with unclassical features
and cross-eyes in the villages. In these matters the moth that desires
the star is likely to end in a candle flame, whether or not he mistook
it for a star. In these new towns I see women looking as if they were
made in the chemists’ shops, which are so numerous and conspicuous
in the streets--thin, pallid, dyspeptic, vampirine beauties, having
nothing but sex in common with the bold, swarthy alien on the cigarette
advertisement....
At Swindon the explorer of the Icknield Way has all the world before
him. He may go through Marlborough into the Pewsey Valley, and either
along under the hills through Lavington to Westbury, or, turning out
of the Pewsey Valley, to Old Sarum, and beyond Westbury or Sarum into
the extreme west; and he will be on a road of the same type as the
Icknield Way for the greater part of the distance. Or he may content
himself with reaching Avebury. Or he may miss Avebury and aim at
Bath. At present documents and traditions keep a perfect silence west
of Wanborough, and among mere possibilities the choice is endless.
The easiest, the pleasantest, and the wrongest thing to do is to
take to the Ridgeway at Wanborough and follow it along the supposed
south-westerly course under Liddington Hill, under Barbury Castle, and
then up on to the ridge to Avebury. But though it is possible that in
the Middle Ages this was done, there is little doubt that the green way
going high up on the ridge past Glory Ann Barn is not coeval with, is
not the same road as, the hill-foot road that has crept persistently
but humbly under the Chilterns and Berkshire Downs. Such a road ran
more risks than the Ridgeway from the plough. Its preservation between
Upton and Lockinge Park is miraculous. It might easily have disappeared
in the ploughland about Chisledon or the rich pastures of Coate. Let
the conjecturer thus skip a few miles in his westerly or south-westerly
course, and he can go rapidly ahead, following under the main ridge
to Avebury, or under the secondary ridge, three or four miles north
of it, towards Calne and Bath. It is a game of skill which deserves a
select reputation--to find an ancient road of the same character as the
Oxfordshire and Berkshire Icknield Way, going west or south-west beyond
Wanborough. The utmost reward of this conjecturing traveller would be
to find himself on the banks of the Towy or beside the tomb of Giraldus
at St. David’s itself.
[Illustration: MAP OF PART OF THE ICKNIELD WAY]
INDEX
Abbey Farm, 101
_Abingdon Chronicle_, 72
Æthelstan, 74
Æthelwulf, 74
Alcester, 78
Aldbury, 70
Aldworth, 48, 231
Alfred, King, 16, 21, 22, 36
Alfred’s Castle, 74, 265
Alfred’s Tower, 18, 19
Allechurch, 79
Alton Priors, 289
Alvechurch, 79
Amesbury, 19, 20
_Ancient Cambridgeshire_, 56
Andover, 50, 76, 77
Anglesey, 22, 40
_Anglo-Saxon Chronicle_, 38
Anthony Hill, 102
_Arabia Deserta_, 13, 26
_Archæologia_, 50, 53, 54
_Archæological Journal_, 46, 67
-- _Institute: Memoirs_, 54
Ardington, 278
Arfield, 276, 284, 285
Arthur, King, 111
Arundel, 245
Ashbury, 49, 72, 74, 253, 289, 294, 296, 297-8, 300
Ashdown, 265
Ashwell, 58
Aston Clinton, 71, 179, 180
Aston Rowant, 44, 157, 186
Aston Tirrold and Upthorpe, 52, 73, 214, 217-18, 219, 231, 272, 273,
274
Athelney, 16
Attleborough, 56, 60
Aubrey, John, 34, 46, 52
Austin, Mary, 24
Avebury, 11, 49, 51, 52, 53, 56 84, 268, 309, 310
Aylesbury, 150, 152, 178, 183
Babington, C. C., 57
Babraham, 109
Badbury, 48, 264
Bakeleresbury, 76, 77
Balcombe Hill, 71
Baldock, 45, 46, 58, 67, 110, 122
Balsham, 56
Banbury, 22
Barbury, 264, 266, 267, 278, 294, 310
Barley, 45, 46, 47
Barnes, William, 34
Barnham, 90;
New B. Slip, 90
Barnsley, 22
Barrow Hill, 91
Barton Hills, 68
Basingstoke, 56
Batchelor’s Barn, 77
Bath, 23, 83, 309, 310
Beacon Hills, 70, 136, 143, 147, 157
Beeke, Hy., 54, 62
Beldam, 67
Belinus, 36, 37, 38, 39, 47
Belloc, Hilaire, 27, 29, 76
Beloe, 60
Bennet, John (Bishop of Cloyne), 53, 54, 55, 56, 62, 229
Benson, 201, 204
Berkshire, Map of, 49
_Berkshire, Some Antiquities in_, 49
Berwick, Cold, 20
Bevis of Hampton, 12
Bidford, 78
Birmingham, 38, 40, 78, 79
Bishopston, 49, 50, 63
Bishopstone, 289, 292, 298, 300, 301
Bishopstone, A. A., 238-47
Blackbourn, 90
Blake, William, 18
Bledlow, 45, 71, 154, 156
Blewburton Hill, 218, 272
Blewbury, 49, 55, 73, 214, 218, 219, 220, 222, 223, 273, 274
Blomefield, 61
Blowingstone, 254, 263, 265, 266, 267, 268, 292, 294, 296, 303, 310
Boadicea, 83
Borrow, George, 28, 106
Bourne Bridge, 91
Bourton, 302
Bourton-on-the-Water, 78
Bradenstoke, 21
Bradford, 21
Bradley, Henry, 31, 80
Braid, James, 300
Brandon, 84, 91
Braybrooke, Lord, 66, 67
Brent Ditch, 66, 100
Brettenham, 88
Bridport, 48
Brislington, 21, 303
Bristol, 21
_Britannia_, _see_ Camden
Britchcombe Farm, 294
Britwell, 66, 158, 159, 199, 200
Brue, River, 15, 17
Bruton, 9, 15, 16
Buckenham, 54
Buckholt Forest, 77, 78
Buckland, 179, 180
Buntings, Corn, 104
Bunyan, John, 5
Burderop, 305
Burgh Castle, 47, 54
Burloes Hill, 66
Burroughs, John, 24, 28
Bushton, 21
Butler’s Cross, 152
Butser Hill, 9, 230
Bygrave, 67
Byron, Lord, 29
Cadbury Castle, 9, 14
Caithness, 36, 37, 38, 39
Calne, 3, 21, 310
Cam, River, 58, 100
Cambridge, 82, 98, 102, 105, 113
_Cambridgeshire, Proceedings of Antiquarian Society_, 58, 60
Camden, 34, 40, 45, 66
Camelot, 9
Canterbury, 65, 77
Canute, 38
“Caradoc’s Hunt,” 256-63
Cardiganshire, 106
Castle Lane, 59
_Catalogue of Ancient Deeds_, 68
Catsbrain Hill, 162
Cattle, 10, 22, 44
Cavenham, 55, 92, 94, 95
Cervantes, 6
Chalton, 68
Chance Farm, 231
Chanctonbury, 9, 266
Charters, _see under_ Icknield Way
Chekers Park, 153
Cherhill, 303
Chesterfield, 38, 40
Chesterford, Great, 48, 66
Chevington, 53
Childrey, 49, 290
Chilterns, 9, 33, 42, 43, 47, 60, 136, 155, 156, 178, 184, 185, 199,
264, 272, 310
Chinnor, 43, 44, 72, 156, 184, 187
Chippenham, 21
Chishall, 105
Chisledon, 75, 302, 304-6, 307, 310
Cholsey, 51, 52, 77, 214, 231
Chrishall Grange, 58
Church, Mr., 49, 52, 67
Churchyards, 163, 180, 184, 185, 201-3
Churn Hill, 231
Cirencester, 22, 38, 50, 56, 150
Clamp’s Heath, 94
Clarke, W. G., 58
Clay Hill, 113
Cleeve, 163, 164, 173
Cley Hill, 9
Clothall, 46, 67
Clyffe Pypard, 21
Coate, 306, 310
Cobbett, William, 11, 21
Codrington, F., 58, 78
Colchester, 67
Compton, 49, 69, 231
Coombe Hole, 147
Cooper King, Col., 62
Cotswolds, 9, 22, 264
Cricklade, 23
Cross Waters, 147
Crowell, 157
Crowmarsh, 159, 161, 205
Cuckhamsley, 53, 82
Cucklington, 18
Culford, 94
Curlew, Stone, 91
Deacon Hill, 128, 129
Defoe, 23, 25
De la Mare, Walter, 163-4
_De Nugis Curialium_, 37
Derby, 38, 78
Deverills, 14;
Monkton D., 15, 24
Devil’s Ditch, 105
Devizes, 53
Dolittle Mill, 137
Dorchester (Dorset), 48, 62
Dorc stream, 74
Dottrell Hall, 102
Doughty, Charles M., 13, 25
Dover, 40
Doves, Turtle, 95
Downs, 9, 19, 33, 63, 65, 159, 163, 166, 167, 182, 292, 294, 298, 300
Downs Farm, 275
Dragon Hill, 264, 294
Dray’s Ditches, 68
Drayton, Michael, 40, 41, 42, 44, 47, 52, 56, 76, 79
Drovers, 13, 23, 190
Dugdale, 44, 68
Duignan, W. H., 73
Dunstable, 23, 39, 40, 45, 47, 55, 62, 65, 68, 70, 75, 134, 135, 141
Duxford Grange, 104
Eaton Bray, 70, 137
Ebble River, 21
Edgar, 68
Edington, 16
Edlesborough, 45, 70, 136
Edmund, 38, 68
Edred, 74
Edward, 71
Elcombe, 21, 303
Ellesborough, 71, 152, 153
Elmdon, 101
Elton, C. I., 62
Elveden Church, 90;
Gap, 92;
Hall, 90
Enham, 76, 78
_Essays of Elia_, 28
_Eulogium_, 74
Ewelme, 44, 159, 187, 199, 200-4
Exeter, 62
Fairs, 190
Faringdon, 290
Farnborough, 250
Fawley, 250
Firebrass Hill, 201
Fleam Dyke, 66, 98
_Flock, The_, 24
Follies (Ashbury Folly, etc.), 253, 254
Fonthill Gifford, 17
_Footpath Way, The_, 27
Fordham, 98
Four Mile Bottom, 24
Foxberry Wood, 71, 161
Fulbourn Valley Farm, 109
Gale, R., 47, 48, 62, 80
Galley Hill, 132
_Gentleman’s Magazine, The_, 28
Geoffrey of Monmouth, 35, 37, 38, 40, 41, 50, 76
Gildas, 36
Ginge Brook, 51
Ginge, East, 285
Giraldus, 83
Glastonbury, 17
Glebe Farm, 71, 161, 162
Gloucester, 23, 50, 56, 81, 267
-- Robert of, 38
Goddard’s Barn, 287
Godmanchester, 67, 109
Goffer’s Knoll, 116
Gogmagog Hills, 9, 47
Goldbury Hill, 285
Goring, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 52, 53, 71, 161, 162, 163
Gossett, A. L. S., 21
Gould’s Heath, 44
Gramp’s Hill, 252, 254, 264
Grange Farm, 109
Granges, 104
Granta, River, 109
Grantchester, 109
Great Bramingham Farm, 68
Grim’s Dyke, 45, 71, 161, 213
Groveley Woods, 20
Guest, E., 33, 38, 55, 80, 84
Gunner’s Hall, 109
Gypsies, 3
Gypsies’ Corner, 72, 159, 204, 213
Gypsy Smith, 123
Hackpen Hill, 254, 264
Hagbourne, West, 51, 73, 222, 275, 278
Halton, 151, 152
Halvehill, 51
Hamo’s Port, 36, 37
Hampstead Norris, 53
Harwell, 49, 51, 73, 74, 278
Haverfield, F., 63
Hayden, Eleanor, 278, 279
Hay Lane, 21
Hazlitt, 5, 28
Hearne, T., 39, 44, 47
Hebrides, 301
Helen Luyddawc, 7, 8, 33, 37
Hendred, East, 51, 73, 248, 276, 277, 284, 285, 305
Hermitage, 18, 53
Higden, R., 38, 78
Hill Barn, 254
Hill of Health, 94
Hindon, 20
Hinton, Broad, 303;
Parva, 302
Hinxton, 110
_History of English Law_, 35
_History of Hampshire_, 56
_History of Norfolk_, 61
_History of the British Kings_, 35
Hitchin, 29, 58, 68, 127, 129
Hiz, R., 127, 129
Hlyd, 74
Hoare, Colt, 16, 56, 62, 268
Hodgson, Ralph, 226-7
Holinshed, 33, 40, 44, 79
Honeybourne Station, 78
Horsenden, 154
Houghton Regis, 47, 53, 55, 68, 70, 132
Hoveden, R., 35
Hungerford, 261, 302
Huntingdon, Henry of, 35, 37, 38, 39, 47
Icenhild, 33, 80
Iceni, _see under_ Icknield Way
Ickleford, 33, 55, 67, 127
Ickleton, 33, 47, 48, 54, 55, 56, 66, 100-1;
described, 105;
I. Granges, 101;
I. House, 292
Icklingham, 33, 59, 92
Icknield Way, or Street, 20, 33, 37, 42-3, 46, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54,
55, 62, 65, 79
Icknield Way, authority for, 30 _et seqq._
-- boundary, used as, 38, 90, 98, 110, 112, 116, 127, 129, 132, 149
-- character of, 113, 116, 119, 123, 124, 125, 127, 129, 130, 131,
134, 144, 148, 149, 150, 152, 154, 157, 163, 183, 185, 186,
199, 201, 268, 275, 284, 285, 289, 292, 302
-- charters relating to, 55, 56, 61, 67, 70, 71-2, 73-4
-- conjectures concerning, 48, 50, 54, 56, 58, 59, 60-1, 62-3, 213,
223, 288, 309, 310
-- course of, 33, 35, 36, 38, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 47, 48, 52, 54,
61, 62, 223, 249, 274, 289, 298, 303
-- extent, 76
-- four royal roads, one of, 34, 35, 37
-- fragments of, 76-8
-- Iceni, connection with, 33, 40, 41, 46, 47, 54, 55, 63, 83
-- inventions connected with, 53, 54
-- lost portion of, 49, 51
-- name of, 21, 33-4, 42, 43, 44, 46, 47, 48, 49, 54, 56, 61,
75, 78, 79, 80, 115, 122, 213, 276, 278, 279, 284, 286,
289, 300
-- opinions on, _see under_ Bradley, Babington, Beeke, Beldam,
Beloe, Bennet, etc.
-- origin of, 82
-- remains (coins, etc.) found on or near, 60, 66, 67-8, 68,
70, 71, 73, 89, 92, 107, 159, 275
-- termini of, 35, 37, 39, 41, 44, 52, 54, 61-2
-- tradition relating to, 63
-- Upper and Lower, 44, 70, 148, 176, 187, 204
-- Uses of, 21, 23, 81, 83-4
Icknield Bank Plantation, 159
Idris, 111
Idstone, 296, 298
Ilchester, 14
Ilsley, East, 24, 190, 231, 232
Imogen, 83
Inns, 89, 97, 100, 104, 110, 111, 123, 127, 133, 143, 153,
155, 163, 173, 180, 182, 184, 185, 190-9, 206, 215, 220,
273, 275, 278, 288, 302, 303, 304, 308
_Introduction to Study of Local History and Antiquity_, 84
Ippollitts, 122
Ipsden, 45, 64, 72, 161, 272
_Itinerarium Curiosum_, 48
_Itinerary_, Leland’s, 39
Ivinghoe, 23, 45, 148, 176
Ivinghoe Hills, 147, 149
Ixworth, 54
Jack’s Castle, 16
Jackson, Canon, 22
Jennet’s Hill, 92
Jordan, Morris, _see_ _Introduction to Study_, etc.
Kempe, A. J., 54
Kennet, 82
Kennett, River, 59, 105
Kensworth Common, 70
“Kent,” names beginning with, 61
Kentchester, 81
Kentford, 55, 56, 59, 65, 96, 97, 98
Keynsham, 21
Kilmington, 14, 17
Kilverstone, 83
Kimble, 47;
Great K., 71, 153, 183;
Little K., 153
Kingsettle Hill, 14, 15
Kingstanding Hill, 272
Kingston Blount, 157, 185;
Lisle, 292
Knighton Bushes, 264
Knolls, Long and Little, 9, 17
Knoyle, East, 17
Lackford, 55, 59, 60, 90, 96;
described, 93;
L. Manor, 94;
L. Road Heath, 91, 92
Ladder Hill, 305
Lambourn, 254, 264, 294
Lane, Abingdon, 248
-- Bates, 275
-- Beggars’ and Gypsies’, 3
-- Bygrave or Deadman’s, 110
-- Castle, 59, 88, 89
-- Clover, 88
-- Cow, 276
-- Green, 88, 89
-- Hickling, 61, 64
-- Hungerford, 249, 276, 284
-- Juggler’s, 302
-- Long, 17, 18
-- Welsh, 22
Lark Hall, 96
Lark, River, 59, 92, 94
Larks, 107
Lavington, 309
_Law, History of English_, 35
La Werthe, 77
_Laws and Institutes of Wales_, 37
Laws, Molmutine, 36, 37, 41, 47
-- of Edward Confessor, 35, 55, 62
-- of William Conqueror, 35
Lavender Hill, 245
Lea, 68, 133
Leagrave, 47, 66, 133, 134
Lechlade, 23
_Leicestershire, Memorials of Old_, 65
Leighton Buzzard, 70, 148
Leonardo, 301
Leland, 39, 40, 47, 48
Letchworth, 111, 112, 124, 126
Letcombe Bassett, 73, 252, 254
Letcombe Brook, 289
-- Castle, 251, 265, 266
-- Regis, 252, 289, 290
Lethieullier, S., 48
Lewknor, 44, 71, 157, 188
Lichfield, 78
Liddington, 253, 265, 266, 267, 268, 294, 296, 303, 310
Liebermann, 35
Lilley Hoo, 131
Limbury, 68, 133
Littlebury, 111
Llandovery, 29
Llangollen, 29
Lockinge, 278, 285, 286, 287, 299, 300, 310
Lockinge Park, 49, 51, 64, 222, 249
London, 18, 102
Lollingdon, 215, 217, 273
Lone Barn, 236-47
Long Hill, 19
Lowbury, 265
Luton, 45, 47, 68, 132, 133, 134
Lysons, 50, 52
_Mabinogion_, 7, 35
_Magdalen College Deeds, MS. Catalogue of_, 76
_Magna Britannia_, 51, 52, 54
Maiden Bower, 65, 68
Maiden Bradley, 9, 14, 17, 18
Maidstone, 307
Maitland, _see_ Pollock
Malory, 6
Map, Walter, 37
Maps, 26, 32, 39, 44, 45, 46, 49, 68, 75, 90
-- Ordnance, 14, 53, 55, 75, 78, 268
Marlborough, 15, 302
Marmansgrave Wood, 90
Marsworth, 45, 178
Martinsell, 264
Mason, Dr., 54
Maulkin’s Hall, 94
Medbourne, 304
Melbourn, 58
Mendips, 9
Menevia, _see_ St. David’s
Mere, 19
Metley Hill, 67
Mildenhall, 90, 92
Milestones, 18, 19, 48, 66, 98
Milford, 83
_Modern Slavery, A_, 10
Molmutine, _see under_ Laws
Money, Walter, 22
Mongewell, 161, 213
Montgomery, James, 223-6
Moor Court, 187
Morden, Robert, 45, 46, 47, 49, 50, 68, 134
Morris, William, 21
Motor-cars, 101-3, 106, 118
Moulsford, 51, 53, 62, 72, 73, 215, 231, 232, 272
Mullett, 89
Munro, Harold, 29
Names, Place, 3, 32, 61
Nevinson, H. W., 10
Newbury, 51, 53, 77, 276
Newmarket, 29, 47, 54, 55, 56, 58, 59, 64, 65,
66, 75, 89, 90, 96, 97, 98, 100, 104, 105, 106
-- Heath, 104
Newnham Murren, 213
Nightingale, 90, 98
Noar Hill, 9
Noon’s Folly, 58, 104, 105
_Norfolk, History of_, 61
Norridge Woods, 16
Norton Common, 112
Norwich, 54, 59, 60, 61, 82
_Nouvelle Heloise, La_, 29
Nuns’ Bridges, 59, 89
Odsey, 67, 107, 112, 119, 122, 125
Offley, 112, 132
Ogbourne St. George, 50
Old Willoughby Hedge, 20
_Origines Celticæ_, 55
Oughton, R., 128, 129
Ouse, Little, 59, 60, 85, 89
Oxford, 233
_Oxfordshire, Natural History of_, 43
Pakenham, 93
Pampisford, 110
Pancroft Farms, 217
Peake, Harold, 35, 65, 75
Pen Hills, 119
People, 85-7, 93, 103-5, 100, 114-16, 119,
137-43, 143-4, 146-7, 173-5, 179, 222
Pewit, 19, 91
Pewit Castle, 20
Pewsey, 22, 309
Pewsham Forest, 21
Pink Wood, 16
Pirton, 112
Pitstone, 148, 149
Place Farm, 189
Plot, Robert, 43, 44, 45, 47, 50, 52, 62, 72, 84
Plymouth, 46
Pollock and Maitland, 35
_Polyolbion_, 40, 41
Poor’s Furze, 232
Portsdown Hill, 11
Powell, J. U., 15
Pulpit Wood, 71
Quantocks, 9
Quarley Hill, 264
Railway, Didcot, Newbury and Southampton, 274
-- Great Eastern, 96
-- Great Northern, 110
-- Old, 109-110
Rampart Meadow, 92
Ravenspurgh Castle, 68
Rectory Farm (Ickleton), 112;
(Streatley), 229
Red Barn, 286
-- Brick House, 165-72
-- House, 251
Redland’s Hall, 101
Redlynch, 15, 18
Rhys, Sir John, 8
Ridgeway Bush, 268
-- Farm, 267
Ringmore, Battle of, 60
Risborough, Monks, 66
-- Princes, 45, 47, 72, 154, 184
Roads, 1 _et seqq._, 77
-- making of, 2, 3, 4, 8, 10, 65, 81-2
-- names of, 80
-- African, 10
-- British, 14, 19
-- eighteenth century, 23
-- four royal roads, 3, 4, 5, 9, 43, 45, 46, 75, 78
-- hill-side, 65
-- pilgrims’, 21, 78
-- primitive, 3, 4, 8, 10, 13, 19, 22, 26, 33, 50, 75
-- Roman, 4, 5, 34, 47, 48, 50, 53, 54, 56, 58, 63, 78, 82, 109
Roads particularly mentioned:
Akeman Street, 71, 81, 149, 150, 179, 180, 182, 298
Ashwell Street, 58
Belinstrete, 38, 79
Bull Road, 94
Deneway, 77
Drove, Ox, 13, 15-21
Drove, The, 60
Ermine Street, 32, 35, 36, 38, 39, 40, 67, 80, 81, 105, 267, 268,
302
Foss Way, 14, 32, 35, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 78, 81
Great Reading Road, 49, 72, 270
Hardway, 15, 16
Harrow Way, 15, 77, 82, 84
Laddreway, 76
Mare Way, 113
Papist Way, 52, 213, 214, 215, 216
Peddars’ Way, 60
Pilgrim’s Path, 92
Pilgrims’ Way, 30, 46, 65, 76, 82
Port Way, 49, 75, 77, 279, 299
Ridgeway (on Downs), 22, 23, 24, 53, 56, 60, 74, 80, 82, 92, 229,
232, 233, 249, 250, 253, 263, 264, 267, 268, 270, 302, 310;
(Worcestershire) 78
Ryknield Street, 34, 38, 40, 41, 42, 46, 75, 78, 79, 80
Sarn Helen, 32
Stane Street (Surrey), 42
-- (Herts), 67
Traveller’s Hill, 86
Watling Street, 4, 32, 34, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 55, 75, 79, 135
Welsh Ways, 22
Rockley, 305
Roden Downs, 232
Rooks, 110
Roque, 49
Roudham Heath, 60
Round Hill, 288
Roundabout Hill, 285, 286
Royston, 23, 45, 50, 51, 56, 58, 63, 66, 67, 75, 113, 118
Rudge, 80
Saffron Walden, 101
St. Anne’s Park, 21
-- Wood, 21
St. David’s, 36, 37, 38, 39, 42, 46, 78, 310
St. Edmunds, Bury, 39, 47, 54, 59, 61, 89, 92, 96
Salisbury, 12, 39, 40, 53, 56, 63
-- Plain, 20, 91, 268
Sandon, 46
Sand Boys, 111
Sarum, Old, 16, 21, 48, 53, 77, 78, 309
Scarth, H. M., 62
Scott, Sir W., 256
Scott, Walter, 4, 29, 32
Scutchamer’s Knob, 249
Sedgehill, 3
Segsbury Camp, 252
Selden, 41, 74
Selwood Beacon, 16
-- Forest, 16, 17
Semley, 3
Shaftesbury, 21
Shapens, 104
Sheepcote Lane, 187
Shelley, 243
Shepherds, 24
_Shepherds of Britain_, 22
Shirburn, 188
Shrivenham, 294
Signposts, 179, 305
Silchester, 62, 267
Sinodun Hill, 159, 264
Six Mile Bottom, 97
Slip End, 67
Slip Inn Hill, 112
Smith, Gypsy, 111
Smit Stream, 75
_Social England_, 62
Soham, 91
Southampton, 34, 37, 38, 46, 48, 50, 76, 77
Sparsholt, 49, 51, 254, 255, 289, 291
Speen, 48, 50
Stadley, 78, 79
_Staffordshire Place Names, Notes on_, 78
Stephen, Leslie, 28, 29
Stevenson, R. L., 106
Stoke, 72, 77
-- Holy Cross, 61, 63
-- Little, 213, 214, 273
-- N., 161, 214
-- S., 162, 215, 272
Stokenchurch, 44, 190
Stonehenge, 20, 84
Stone, River, 98
Stow-in-the-Wold, 78, 81
Streatley (Berks), 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53,
64, 72, 76, 77, 163, 229, 265, 266, 267, 270,
271, 299
-- (Beds), 45, 46
Streatley Warren, 229, 230
Strethall, 46
Studley, 21, 303
Stukeley, W., 48, 49, 54, 62
Stump Cross, 58, 100
Sweyn, 77
Swindon, 21, 267, 268, 289, 303, 307-9
_Swindon Fifty Years Ago_, 21
Swinley Down, 296, 298
Swyn Brook, 69
Swyncombe, 65, 71, 159
Tacitus, 40
Tame’s Barn, 285
Tan Hill, 24, 25
Tarberry Hill, 9
Taylor, A., 54, 55, 62, 63
-- I., 62
Telegraph Hill, 68, 128, 131, 155, 232
Thames, R., 159, 204, 270
Therfield, 46
Thet, River, 59, 89
Thetford, 55, 56, 60, 82, 85, 90
-- described, 88-9
-- Castle Hill, 88
Thorpe Salvin, 79
Thurle Down Woods, 302
Tingey, J. C., 60-1, 63
Titian, 301
Toternhoe, 45, 70, 136
Totnes, 37, 38, 39, 40
Totterdown, 50, 266, 268, 302
Towy, R., 310
Tring, 67, 81, 149, 150, 177, 298
Tuddenham Corner, 96
Tynemouth, 38, 40, 41, 42
Uffington, 49, 74, 264, 265, 267, 289
Upton, 49, 51, 52, 72, 214, 222, 273, 274, 276, 300, 310
_Victoria County History_, 63
Walker’s Hill, 22
Walking, 12-13, 21, 27, 28, 29, 106, 120, 137, 146
Wallingford, 53, 62, 72, 82, 159, 201, 204-6, 213, 229, 231, 271
Wallington Hills, 46
Walter, Archdeacon of Oxford, 37
Walworth Cottages, 72
Wanborough, 50, 51, 69, 74, 80, 268, 302, 303, 304, 310
Wansdyke, 22
Wantage, 49, 51, 52, 73, 215, 222, 250, 271, 272, 278, 279, 288, 289,
299
-- Road, 234
Ward, Mrs. Humphry, 227
Warminster, 20, 24, 268
Warren Farm, 230, 231
_Warwickshire, Antiquities of_, 44
Watlington, 157, 189, 199, 255
Waulud’s Bank, 68
Wayland’s Smithy, 56, 74, 234-6, 247, 252, 253, 264
Weather-vanes, 98
Well Head, 70, 136, 147
Wendover, 45, 71, 152
Westbury, 319
Westcott, 291
Westley, Waterless, 56
Weston Colville, 56, 97
-- Sub-edge, 78
-- Turville, 71, 182, 183
West Ridge, 53
West Wratting, 57, 107
Weyhill, 25
Wheatear, 91
Whitchurch, 21
White Horse, 49, 53, 251, 289, 292
Whiteleaf, 66, 154
White Sheet Downs, 14, 16, 17, 18
-- Castle, 18
Whitman, Walt, 28
Wicken, 91
Wight, Isle of, 41
Wilbury, 58, 67, 127
Williams, Moray, 83
Willis, R., 34, 49, 50, 51
Wilston, 44, 178
Wiltshire, 106
_Wiltshire Archæological Magazine_, 22, 25
Wincanton, 19
Winchester, 12, 34, 56, 62, 65, 77
Winkelbury, 20
Wise, F., 34, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 63, 75, 80, 278
Woodpigeon, 108
Woodward and Wilks, 56
-- Samuel, 54, 55, 56
Woolstone, 49, 69, 294
Worcester, 38, 40, 78, 81
Wordsworth, William, 5, 32
Wordwell, 86
Workaway Hill, _see_ Walker’s Hill
Worsted Lodge, 58, 109
Wylye, River, 20
Wymondham, 56
Yarmouth, 41, 46, 47
Yarnbury, 20, 24
Yarnfield, 17
Yatesbury, 303
Yew Down, 249
York, 38
Yorke, A. C., 58
WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD. PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Duplicate headings have been removed.
The following apparent errors have been corrected:
p. 38 "St.David’s" changed to "St. David’s"
p. 65 "cntury" changed to "century"
p. 158 "Watlington" changed to "Watlington."
p. 160 "Hill" changed to "Hill."
p. 295 "Ashbury" changed to "Ashbury."
p. 312 "Bourton-in-the-Water" changed to "Bourton-on-the-Water"
p. 313 "134 135" changed to "134, 135"
p. 314 "74," changed to "74"
p. 314 "_Iceni_" changed to "Iceni"
p. 315 "Kentchester" changed to "Kentchester,"
p. 316 "Conqueror" changed to "Conqueror, 35"
p. 318 "78," changed to "78"
The following are used inconsistently in the text:
Halvehill and Halve-hill
knapweed and knap-weed
signboard and sign-board
Stow-in-the-Wold and Stow-on-the-Wold