hen archaeology was more of a
pastime than a science, this corner of the country had become famous
for the rich discoveries in tumuli made by a few local enthusiasts.

It has been suggested that the flint-bearing character of the Wolds
made this part of Yorkshire a district for the manufacture of
implements and weapons for the inhabitants of a much larger area, and
no doubt the possession of this ample supply of offensive material
would give the tribe in possession a power, wealth, and permanence
sufficient to account for the wonderful evidences of a great and
continuous population. In these districts it is only necessary to go
slowly over a ploughed field after a period of heavy rain to be fairly
certain to pick up a flint knife, a beautifully chipped arrow-head, or
an implement of less obvious purpose.

To those who have never taken any interest in the traces of Early Man
in this country, this may appear a musty subject, but to me it is quite
the reverse. The long lines of entrenchments, the round tumuli, and the
prehistoric sites generally--omitting lake dwellings--are most
invariably to be found upon high and windswept tablelands, wild or only
recently cultivated places, where the echoes have scarcely been
disturbed since the long-forgotten ages, when a primitive tribe mourned
the loss of a chieftain, or yelled defiance at their enemies from their
double or triple lines of defence.

In journeying in any direction through the Wolds it is impossible to
forget the existence of Early Man, for on the sky-line just above the
road will appear a row of two or three rounded projections from the
regular line of turf or stubble. They are burial-mounds that the plough
has never levelled--heaps of earth that have resisted the
disintegrating action of weather and man for thousands of years. If
such relics of the primitive inhabitants of this island fail to stir
the imagination, then the mustiness must exist in the unresponsive mind
rather than in the subject under discussion.

In making an exploration of the Wolds a good starting-place is the
old-fashioned town of Malton, whence railways radiate in five
directions, including the line to Great Driffield, which takes
advantage of the valley leading up to Wharram Percy, and there tunnels
its way through the high ground.

Choosing a day when the weather is in a congenial mood for rambling,
lingering, or picnicking, or, in other words, when the sun is not too
hot, nor the wind t