ith such noble hedges to define them have their own air
of wildness and age; it is easy enough, even with Purley slate roofs
hardly a mile away, to fancy partridges calling across those open
spaces. Coulsdon, indeed, was once celebrated for its game. Aubrey tells
us that in the parish there was "a large coney-warren belonging to the
Desbouveries." They, for many years under Stuarts and Georges, were
lords of the manor.

From Coulsdon one may walk to Chaldon over Farthing Down. The horizon
changes, but Farthing Down itself remains high and free, smooth with
short down grass, and dinted with the hoofs of galloping horses. Croydon
and Purley send many riders abroad on Saturdays and Sundays. But
Farthing Down is peopled with other older forms. Along the ridge,
bordering the ancient trackways, lies a line of barrows. They were
opened in 1872 by Mr. John Wickham Flower; some were found untouched,
and contained perfect skeletons. In one grave lay the bones of a great
lady; buried with her was a beautiful wooden drinking-cup, its staves
fastened by bronze bands of an intricate Runic pattern of coiled snakes.
Another grave held the skeleton of a warrior giant, his sword lying
across him and the boss of his shield upon his foot. Mr. Flower thinks
he can add a name. Coulsdon is a corruption of Cuthredesdune, and
perhaps Cuthred, an Anglo-Saxon prince, lies buried here with his
family. Cuthred, son of Cwichelm, and grandson of Cynegils, the first
Christian king of Wessex, was baptised in 639 at Dorchester.

Farthing Down stretches for nearly three miles north and south, and
under its southern slope lies the little village of Chaldon. Chaldon
church holds the most remarkable wall-painting in the country. The
"Ladder of Life," or "Ladder of Salvation," is the subject, and it
occupies nearly the whole of the west wall of the church. In red and
white and yellow ochre paint you are shown the torments of the damned,
the salvation of heaven, the trampling of Satan. A ladder rises through
the middle; up it the poor souls of men struggle to the joys above; some
tumble headlong; a demon picks off others with a pitchfork and sets them
aside to burn or boil. An enormous dog eats a woman's hand; in life she
had thrown to dogs what she should have given to the poor. A usurer
painted without eyes, for usurers could not weep, sits among flames;
devils drive pitchforks into his head, moneybags hang round his neck, he
counts and swallows red hot co