Surrey

t altogether a Brazilian stream, so the Wey has its rise in other counties; and still further to compare great and small, there might be some question as to its main s

ling vines, reveal the rich gault soil making this corner of the country an oasis of hop cultivation, especially in the woodbine variety. It is but natural, then, that ale should be a renowned product of Farnham, which has also, at the outlying village of Wrecclesham, a notable manufactory of green pottery known as Farnham ware. If I am not mistaken, the hop-fields

am, but was partly blown up by the namesake of another poet, Sir William Waller; then it came to be dismantled under Cromwell. Restored and modernised, it still preserves the ivied Keep enshrining a flower garden, Fox's Tower, the stately hall, the ancient servants' hall and kitchen, the chapel with its rich carvings

d at the very name of a parson. He is believed, not without question, to have been born at the "Jolly Farmer" Inn, near the station; and he died at Normandy Farm, on the north side of the Hog's Back. Amid his crabbed grumblings and cross-grained whims, his heart always warms at the recollection of boyish toils and pranks about Fa

stle, and must have had many a day on the Wey, as in his old age on the Itchen. A writer of our own time connected with Farnham was "Edna Lyall," more than one of whose novels contains s

pent all the coppers he had left on a copy of it, curiosity being for once stronger than hunger. For a time Moor Park was turned into a Hydropathic Establishment. A recent owner tried to shut up the old right of way through it, but was sturdily withstood by the Cobbetts of this generation; and one can walk unquestioned right beside the house and garden, where T

ndicate its fallen grandeur. Recent excavations by the Surrey Arch?ological Society have been well rewarded. The eighteenth-century mansion kept the old monks' garden, in which Cobbett worked as a boy, and got his fill of fruit, for, he says, the produce could never have been consumed unless the servants lent a mouth. A visitor to the

open Gothic arches which skirted a covered walk for the brethren within. Two and two, in their black and white garb, with slow step and heads inclined, they paced round and round. Several of the more studious had brought their illuminating work from the scriptorium and sat in the warm sunshine, with their little platters of pigments and packets of gold-leaf before them, their shoulders rounded and their faces sunk low over the white sheets of vellum. There, too, was the copper-worker, with his burin and graver. Learning and art were not traditions with the Cistercians as with the parent Order of the Benedictines, and yet the library of Waverley was well fi

railway. The heedful pedestrian had better not try to keep by its green banks. From Farnham station he has a pretty walk by a road that in half an hour brings him to the Waverley end of the bridge. For the longer way to th

RIDGE, NEA

look-out upon the line of the Hog's Back to the north; in other directions the view is much impeded by

landed green, its old bridges, and its "King's Oak," reputed as marking the boundary of the Abbey lands in Stephen's reign. Such great age for this landmark has been questioned, but it shows so plainly the burden of time that a colleague and successor has been provided which will authentically chr

begins to behave more prettily as it enters the park of Peperharow. To the left side stands Lord Midleton's mansion, near the Church, restored from the designs of Pugin, and enriched with interior ornamentation that make it one of the finest in this part of Surrey. On the other side, at the south edge of the Park, in Oxenford Farm, which keeps its fragment of real antiquity, Pugin reproduced an old

come down again to Godalming by the Charterhouse School. But the pedestrian should by all means keep a path near the left side of the Wey, passing under a high bank to the bend where, along a charming little bit of woo

l building, now occupied by Merchant Taylors' School, was brought bodily the old archway, carved with idle names, Thackeray's among them; but the rest of the buildings wear an air of still spick-and-span dignity. The Chapel is worth seeing, and so is the Museum, which contains MSS. and drawings of Thackeray, letters of John Wesley and John Leech, and relics of the South African war given by another alumnus, General Baden Powell, who laid the foundation of the cloisters leading

he other bank, below which a trout of over 12 lbs. was caught not many years ago; but coarse fish are the more frequent spoil of local anglers. Across the bridge the road takes us by the Church and up into the High Street, showing old inns, picturesque seventeenth-century dwelli

walks and drives. The water tower over the Charterhouse shows the heights above the Wey, across which go roads to Loseley, Compton, and the Hog's Back. On the opposite side a more distant tower rises upon a swell of woods, parks, and heaths, through which is the way to Bramley and Wonersh. The high-road southward for Portsmouth goes along a well-wooded valley to Milford, where it mo

ascombe

bowers and D

g a peculiar and not unpleasing feature in the valley to the south-east, beneath the picturesque crests and clumps that hide Wonersh. The spire of Shalford Church welcomes us to another of the many "prettiest villages in Surrey," where is the confluence of the Tillingbourne flowing down from Leith Hill between the chalk and the sand ridges, by whose varied heights we are now beautifully surrounded. We pass under St. Catherine's Chapel at the crossing of the Pilgrims' Way,

There is no southern county seat that looks its part better than Surrey's, even since in our day its time-honoured features have been much overlaid by new ones, while everywhere it wears an air of roominess and thrivingness not always associated with the picturesque. Being only thirty miles from London, reached by three, nay four railway lines, it has become a favourite place of residence for business men and of retreat for officers, whose houses go on spreading up the dry and airy slopes of the Downs, above the old town

tower of St. Nicholas, one of G

IELD,

flint and rubble, showing many remarkable points of interest and controversy for arch?ologists, among them a bit claimed as Saxon, some grotesque corbels, and the vaulted roof of St. John's Chapel, ornamented with grim medi?val frescoes, which, like those in Chaldon

rious carvings on the mantelpiece of the Council Chamber, with a collection of standard measures of 1601 given by Queen Elizabeth. The woolsacks in the town arms commemorate a former renown for the making of cloth, also woven at surrounding villages, an industry said to have decayed thro

s chief claim to remembrance is as one of the body of scholars who translated or edited the authorised version of the Bible. Another of "that happy ternion of brothers," as Fuller calls them, was Robert Abbot, who by long display of learning came to be Bishop of Salisbury-"but alas! he was hardly warm in his see before cold in his coffin." As for George, the archbishop, "he did first creep, then run, then fly into preferment," yet to have his wings painfully clipped after he had reached the highest post of the English Church. Shooting deer at Bramshill Park, near what was to be the rectory of his descendant, Charles Kingsley, this muscular Christian primate had the ill-luck to kill a keeper. Like the keen sportsman he was, King James made light of the accident, as one that might happen to any one; and a jury threw the blame on the victim; but the s

bean England, where all seems in keeping with its motto, Deus nobis haec otia fecit. On the left of the gardened quadrangle are the apartments of the twelve brethren, on the right those of eight sisters, all bound not to practise forgery, heresy, sorcery, witchcraft and other crimes. Farther on are reached the Master's house, and the entrance to the Hall and Chapel. The panelled Hall preserves its old

ight of Spital Street was passed the Grammar School, founded at the beginning of the sixteenth century, and still preserving some of its old features that make it worth a visit. Its treasure is a library of chained books, several scores in number, surpassed o

g John's time. What has been left of it by the power Edax rerum is mainly its grim keep, solidly planted on a mound that may have been the site of a pre-Norman fortress. Beside this, part of the area is prettily laid out as a public garden. Some curious bits of carvin

taking the steep rise of the old Hog's Back road leading up from the bridge below the station. Near the entrance of this finely displayed burial-ground, a marble cross marks the grave of the author of Alice in Wonderland, with whom Guildford was a favourite sojourn. "There must have been something remarkable about that gentleman," an

d depletion, but in flood time can yet assert themselves by turning the low meadows into lakes. As in the case of Hogarth's "Industrious Apprentice," the canal has thriven so that it may be called the main stream, while it is seldom so straight-lined or business-minded but that its tow-path makes a pleasa

nk. Loseley, above Guildford, is Sutton's only rival as at once the stateliest and loveliest mansion in Surrey, taking a high place among the lordly halls of England. In the Reformation days, when donjon keeps could give place to orieled and gabled mansions, this was built by Sir Richard Weston, ancestor and namesake of the Wey's canaliser. A

HURCH, NE

h architecture, one of the earliest great

etain, at least on the outside, its original form, and to be quite free from later additions. Save that one side of the court has been removed, the principal quadrangle, as seen from within, is in every essential feature exactly as the builder left it. Nor, except by the removal or the renewal of some mullions, has the exterior on any side suffered any material change. It is not, like so many of our ancient mansions, a record of the caprice, the ambition, the decay or the bad taste, of successive generations. No Elizabethan architect has added a classical porc

ing Junction, stands nearly two miles north of the original village, huddled about the tower and tiled roof of its old church, a landmark conspicuous over the river flat. Even when Defoe made his tour, this place lay "so out of all Road, that 'tis very little heard of in England; it claims however some Honour from its being onc

here encloses one of Surrey's rare ruins, the remains of Newark Priory, of which the south transept walls still stand in broken state, impressive rather than imposing, to be a favourite rendezvous of picnic parties. Ne

o frequent spin, that the Vicar, willing to run with the times, opened a free stable for cycles at his parsonage, and set apart special seats for their riders, who have repaid such hospitality by contributing a memorial window. Another hostelry, frequented by golfers, is the "Hautboy" of Ockham, birthplace of the scholastic theologian of t

eeble branch, for the little church of Wisley, and by it push on to Wisley Common, with its fir-girdled lakelet on the Ripley road, and its "Hut" hostelry, a combination of a snug hotel and of a "Trust" model public-house. Beside this road, on the west edge of the common, a board shows the way among pine woods to a new feature of the Wey valley, the Horticultur

golf links of New Zealand and the woods of Anningsley. Now the straggling river waters the scattered hamlets of Byfleet, in which parish Henry VIII. is said to have been nursed at Byfleet Park. The main villag

ing restored to activity. The tow-path of the united canal gives hence a plain walk to Weybridge, safe from the "Gadarene grunt" of the motor-car. The old channel takes an extremely crooked course nearer the flank of St. George's Hill, which at its southern end one might mount to pass through the pr