than a taper-worm would. Go and see, but not without your
spectacles."

ECCLESBOURNE AND FAIRLIGHT

East of the old town is a stretch of cliffs several miles long, made
up, like the Forest Ridge, of Lower Cretaceous rocks. Several little
wooded valleys extend from the high lands right down to the sea, and
two of these have attained to a desirable celebrity under the names of
Ecclesbourne and Fairlight Glens.

Many folk, visiting these two spots in August, go away with a feeling
of utter disappointment, for the grass is rusty and the place strewn
with the indescribable litter of a myriad picnic-parties. But in the
spring of the year, when the little watercourse at the bottom is at its
fullest, when there are countless primroses beneath the fine old trees,
when everything is green down to the water's edge, then do these glens
deserve their reputations.

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[Illustration: FAIRLIGHT GLEN]

In the spring of the year, when the little watercourse is at its
fullest, there are countless primroses beneath the fine old trees, and
everything is green down to the water's edge.

(_See page 39_)

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In Fairlight there are two famous spots--the Dripping Well and the
Lovers' Seat. The well, situated at the northern end of the glen,
shows a decided tendency to follow the custom of most local waters, but
we can nevertheless get some idea of what a pretty little spot it must
have been at its best. The Lovers' Seat is a little to the east, high
up on the face of a steep, shrub-grown cliff. A large rock overhangs
at the top, and beneath is a tiny platform, slowly disappearing. It is
a fine place, especially on an early summer morning, when the air is
athrob with the tumultuous melody of the birds in the glen below, and
the sea birds wheel round the aerie--a place well fitted to stir even
Charles Lamb to praise: "Let me hear that you have clambered up to
Lovers' Seat; it is as fine in that neighbourhood as Juan Fernandez, as
lonely too, when the fishing-boats are not out; I have sat for hours
staring upon a shipless sea. The salt sea is never so grand as when it
is left to itself." Of course it has a story: what similar romantic
spot has not? Doubt has been cast on the veracity; but such pretty
tales certainly _ought_ to be true.

East of the glen lies Cliff End, where the brown