a veiled form standing there in the likeness of herself, with a great light shining around. Then it becomes clear to her that the Virgin Mary herself has taken her place, and kept the door for her all night so that her fault should not be discovered; and this because her better self had never consented to her sin. You find this central idea in other forms. It tells of a high spirit ministering on earth when human nature, through weakness or weariness, cannot support the load, "Now let us praise famous men, and our Fathers that begat us. . . Such as found out musical tunes, and such as recited verses in writing. . . . " For they have left us a great heritage. Their words in song and story are with us still. Just as we may look into clear water and see an image of the moon, so we can look upon the pages of Folk-lore and see there mirrored an image of the Spirit of Man; a thing not without blemishes, but holding nevertheless a something without which our night would be dark indeed. It is this which lights Man's long pilgrimage. Like the Moon it gives the reflection of a light far greater than itself, something far brighter, far loftier, than anything we can directly gaze upon; but it bears testimony to a light which we know is there, and which shines for all. SALISBURY PLAIN A wondrous pyle of rugged mountaynes stand, To the false god who they did Tauran name, -Chatterton. AMONG other writers, Thomas Jefferson Hogg, in his Life of Shelley, speaks of his visit to Salisbury Plain. He did well to visit Stonehenge in winter, for those who have seen it at all times know that it is best seen at this season, when the stones loom suddenly near, and black as iron in the slanting rain, or stand dimly outlined in the dark of a winter's day. Hogg writes: "I continued my journey over a vast plain. Not a dead level, but gently undulating, and covered with snow. After a time I reached Amesbury, which seemed notwithstanding a thick covering of snow, a pleasant spot, a fruitful oasis in the midst of a desert. I readily found my way to the celebrated Stonehenge. It is a wonderful monument, of a most remote and unknown antiquity; but I could not think that there was much to see there. Many sheep had found shelter among the ruins, and were attended by two or three shepherds. I remembered when a child I had read with pleasure some tale of the shepherd of Salisbury Plain. Here he was then; I had found him at last! The shepherds were very civil to me; they seemed deeply impressed with the importance of the locality, and explained various matters to me. One of them gave to me at parting a piece which he himself had broken off, and he pointed out the stone from which he had taken it, fitting it into its place exactly. Then he pointed out to me the way to Salisbury, telling me when I should see the tall spire before me, a distance of about six miles." I have italicised one phrase in this quotation; that in which Hogg says: "there is not much to be seen there," speaking of Stonehenge. It is a remark so often made by those who see it for the first time. The place is strange and baffling to the mind, to those who take as Hogg did, a cursory view of it, they often arrive at this conclusion. They might more truly say, "there is not much to be said about it"; for there is no limit to what may be seen here if we "bring to the seeing." Britton, in his Beauties of England and Wales, writes: At a distance this monument appears a trifling object, for its bulk and character are lost in the vastness of the open space around it. On a nearer approach it commonly fails to astonish or satisfy the stranger. It must be seen with the eye of the antiquary or the artist, and contemplated by a mind stored with historical knowledge, to be properly appreciated." And later he remarks, in a sentence redolent of his date: "Whilst the learned have at once amused and bewildered themselves with theoretical speculations concerning its origin and uses, the vulgar have contemplated its remains with superstitious amazement and awe." Hogg's account of the generous shepherd who had chipped the fragment he gave away may count in favour of the fence now around the Stones, over which there was a great outcry. It preserves the ruin, bitter though its presence must be to those who knew the place before. Stonehenge owes its dilapidation as much to the hand of man, as to the passage of the Ages. Stones were removed to build with, in days when no one cared to preserve such monuments, and in these later days of appreciation of such things, the zealous tourist may well have brought out a little hammer to gain a chip. The shepherds of Salisbury Plain are becoming rarer, for farmers are taking largely to fence in their Down pastures. But the shepherd is here still, with his long black cloak falling from neck to heels, his round felt hat like Hermes' cap without the wings to it, but sometimes a bunch of blue milk-wort or a yellow hawk weed in the brim. And he leads his sheep, for he does not always drive them. He goes with his plume-tailed dog in front, and the sheep follow, as you may see it in the East. Aubrey, in the Natural History of Wilts., tells us of the shepherds of Salisbury Plain "Their habit, I believe, is that of the Roman or Arcadian shepherds a long white cloake with a very deep cape, which comes half-way down their backs, made of the locks of sheep. There was a sheep-crooke, a sling, a scrip, their tar-box, a pipe or flute, and their dog. But since 1671 they are grown so luxurious as to neglect their ancient warme and useful fashion, and go a la mode. Before the civil wars I remember many of them made straw hatts, which I think is now left off." Those who live in South Wiltshire grow to love the sound of the sheep bells;-" the tinkling bellnotes falling clear and cold." On these large tracts of land, these undulating sweeps with the low horizon, the ancient sport of hawking is carried on; of all sports in its pretty accessories the most romantic; the green livery of the servants, the gauntlet glove, the covered van filled with hawks placed in rows and almost motionless because hooded and for the time bereft of sight; the soft bells on the jesses, and when these are removed the swift turn of the beautiful head from right to left; a head held so erect, and then as swiftly lowered; the burning eyes and perfect poise of body set broad on the tramping thighs; and then the flight; the speed of the pursuer against the craft of the pursued; the clear ringing cries of the falconer as he runs over the smooth turf-this is the sport of kings. The Hawking Club of Salisbury Plain was first started in the early sixties by Mr. Newcombe, Col. Duncombe, Major Fisher, and Lord Ormonde. They stayed at the old Bustard Inn, halfway between Salisbury and Devizes, an inn that exists no more. They brought their hawks with them every spring, following the sport till the progress of the crops allowed no longer of its continuance. Now the Club stays for the hawking season at Shrewton. In some places on Salisbury Plain, bordering a grass track that is yet a road from one place to another, you will see small heaps of chalk placed continuously. These are called "Down Lights," and are recognised as such by those who have to drive in the gathering dusk, for the chalk catches what light there is, and glimmers white in the twilight. For the farmer who has to drive home in the dark they are invaluable, for so long as the light of his lamps falls on these little heaps in succession he knows he is on the track. These green roads in early summer are again marked out in white; but this time by daisies. The eye can follow the down track from far, as it winds away like a loosely-flung ribbon, white against the green. At first it is not easy to see how it comes that on the spot most trodden there should be flowers, |