ngaging a record? The entries of 1739 and 1740
are a perfect climax of hopes and fears, ending, it is impossible to
doubt, in the enjoyment by Sarah Rapley of every conceivable happiness.
But the joys hidden under the cold print of the last Rapley entry are
only dimly to be imagined. Henry Rapley's return from the sea, cured of
his dog-bite, must have brought out the whole village.

Two miles south-west of Ockley, a short way off the Stone street, stands
the lonely little chapel of Oakwood. It is one of the old forest
chapels, and dates back to the thirteenth century, but was enlarged in
the fifteenth, the happy result of an accident. Sir Edward de la Hale
was hunting wild boar with his son in the forest hard by. They had
wounded a boar, the boy was thrown from his horse, and the boar charged
down. His father spurred forward, too late to save him, when suddenly an
arrow whizzed through the trees and the boar fell dead. In his joy, the
father vowed on the spot an offering to the service of God, and Oakwood
chapel was restored and endowed. The little building lies apart,
sequestered in cornfields and deep woods, the quietest treasure of
sudden discovery for the stranger walking idly by country lanes.

Beyond the railway to the east of Ockley, approached by quiet oak-shaded
roads, lies the little village of Capel, not much more than a half-mile
of main street lined with cottages. Capel instils a pleasant
restfulness. Almost its chief buildings are the admirably designed
almshouses built in memory of Mr. Charles Webb of Clapham Common. In an
age when "improvements" generally mean the destruction of something old,
and "additions" to village housing accommodation mean yellow brick boxes
and slate lids, it is a pleasure to set eyes upon a modern building
instinct with the spirit of country places. Capel people have long had
proper views as to the right rate of progress through the business of
life. They are skilled, or some of them, in topiary, and when the garden
of a tiny, red-tiled cottage contains a shaven yew tree recognisable as
a fair-sized bird, the tenour of village life must be agreeably even.

Third of the three villages which group themselves south and south-west
of Leith Hill is Newdigate, separated from Capel by over two miles of a
zig-zagging road, though the distance for a steeplechase cannot be much
more than a mile from church to church. Newdigate church is the chief
part of the little village. The tower is