ow between the rounded
hills, is the small village of Bower Chalke. Westwards, up the main
valley, we pass through Fifield Bavant, where the church is one of the
many that claim to be the smallest in England. Ebbesborne Wake, the
next hamlet, lies cramped in a narrow gully between Barrow Hill and
Prescombe Down. The restored church is not of great interest, but an
unnamed tomb within bears these very pertinent lines:

AS THOU DOST LYVE, O READER DERE,
SO DYD I ONCE WHICH NOW LYE HEARE;
AND AS I AM SO SHALT THOU BE
FOR ALL IS FRAYLE AS THOU MAYST SEE.

Alvedeston, the last village actually in the valley, lies under a spur
of Middle Down from which there is a magnificent view of the "far
flung field of gold and purple--regal England." Alvedeston church is
an old cruciform building containing the tomb of a knight in full
armour. This is one of the Gawen family. The Gawens were for many
years lords of Norrington, a beautiful old house near by. Aubrey
suggests that they were descended from that Gawain of the Round Table
who fought Lancelot and was killed. The last village, Berwick St.
John, is high upon the hills and close to Winklebury Camp. Its Early
English church, as is usual in this district, has transepts. The
Perpendicular tower, though rather squat, is of fine design and the
interior has several interesting monuments and effigies, including
effigies of Sir John Hussey and Sir Robert Lucie clad in mail. A
pleasant custom obtains here of ringing a bell every night during the
winter to guide home the wanderer upon the lonely hills. This was
provided for in the will of a former rector--John Gane (1735). From
Berwick the hill walk to Salisbury, spoken of in the earlier part of
this chapter, should be taken.

[Illustration: DOWNTON CROSS.]

Another valley worth exploring is that of the Bourne, north-east of
Salisbury, down which the main railway line from London passes for its
last few miles before reaching the city. The Bourne is crossed by the
London road nearly two miles from the centre of the town. About half a
mile up stream is the ford where the old way crossed the river to
Sarum. The London road rises to the right and traverses the lonely
chalk uplands to the Winterslow Hut, lately known as the "Pheasant," a
reversion to its old name. Here lodged Hazlitt, essayist and recluse,
for a period of nine years, and here several of his best known
dissertations were penned, including the appropriate "On Living