much about agriculture; and occasionally the plough turns up a rusty
sword or cannon ball, which reveals the story of battles and civil wars
which we trust have passed away from our land for ever. The very names of
the fields are not without signification, and tell us of animals which
are now extinct, of the manners of our forefathers, of the old methods of
farming, and the common lands which have passed away.

The old village inn, with its curiously painted signboard, has its own
story to tell, of the old coaching days, and of the great people who used
to travel along the main roads, and were sometimes snowed up in a drift
just below "The Magpie," which had always good accommodation for
travellers, and stabling for fifty horses. All was activity in the stable
yard when the coach came in; the villagers crowded round the inn doors to
see the great folks from London who were regaling themselves with
well-cooked English joints; and if they stayed all night, could find
comfortable beds with lavender-scented sheets, and every attention. But
the railroads and iron steeds have changed all that; until yesterday the
roads were deserted, and the glory of the old inns departed. Bicyclists
now speed along in the track of the old coaches; but they are not quite
so picturesque, and the bicycle bell is less musical than the cheerful
posthorn.

On the summit of a neighbouring hill we see a curious formation which is
probably an earthwork, constructed many centuries ago by the early
dwellers in this district for the purpose of defence in dangerous times,
when the approach of a neighbouring tribe, or the advance of a company of
free-booting invaders, threatened them with death or the destruction of
their flocks and herds. These earthworks we shall examine more closely.
An ivy-covered ruin near the church shows the remains of a monastic cell
or monastery; and in the distance perhaps we can see the outlines of an
old Norman keep or castle; all of these relate to the story of our
villages, and afford us subjects for investigation and research.

Then there is the village green where so many generations of the
villagers have disported themselves, danced the old country dances
(now alas! forgotten), and reared the merry May-pole, and crowned
their queen. Here they held their rural sports, and fought their bouts
of quarter-staff and cudgel-play, grinned through horse-collars, and
played pipe and tabor at many a rustic feast, when life was you