English Villages | Page 5

form some very accurate notions of the conditions
of life in those distant days. We shall see that the Britons or Celts were
far from being the naked woad-dyed savages described by Caesar,
whose account has so long been deemed sufficient by the historians of
our childhood. We shall call to mind the many waves of invaders which
rolled over our country--the Celts, the Romans, Saxons, Danes, and
Normans--all of whom have left some traces behind them, and added
sundry chapters to the story of our villages.
The fields too proclaim their story, and tell us of the Saxon folk who
were our first farmers, and made clearings in the forests, and tilled the
same soil we work to-day. They tell us too of the old monks who knew
so much about agriculture; and occasionally the plough turns up a rusty
sword or cannon ball, which reveals the story of battles and civil wars
which we trust have passed away from our land for ever. The very
names of the fields are not without signification, and tell us of animals
which are now extinct, of the manners of our forefathers, of the old
methods of farming, and the common lands which have passed away.

The old village inn, with its curiously painted signboard, has its own
story to tell, of the old coaching days, and of the great people who used
to travel along the main roads, and were sometimes snowed up in a
drift just below "The Magpie," which had always good accommodation
for travellers, and stabling for fifty horses. All was activity in the stable
yard when the coach came in; the villagers crowded round the inn
doors to see the great folks from London who were regaling themselves
with well-cooked English joints; and if they stayed all night, could find
comfortable beds with lavender-scented sheets, and every attention. But
the railroads and iron steeds have changed all that; until yesterday the
roads were deserted, and the glory of the old inns departed. Bicyclists
now speed along in the track of the old coaches; but they are not quite
so picturesque, and the bicycle bell is less musical than the cheerful
posthorn.
On the summit of a neighbouring hill we see a curious formation which
is probably an earthwork, constructed many centuries ago by the early
dwellers in this district for the purpose of defence in dangerous times,
when the approach of a neighbouring tribe, or the advance of a
company of free-booting invaders, threatened them with death or the
destruction of their flocks and herds. These earthworks we shall
examine more closely. An ivy-covered ruin near the church shows the
remains of a monastic cell or monastery; and in the distance perhaps we
can see the outlines of an old Norman keep or castle; all of these relate
to the story of our villages, and afford us subjects for investigation and
research.
Then there is the village green where so many generations of the
villagers have disported themselves, danced the old country dances
(now alas! forgotten), and reared the merry May-pole, and crowned
their queen. Here they held their rural sports, and fought their bouts of
quarter-staff and cudgel-play, grinned through horse-collars, and played
pipe and tabor at many a rustic feast, when life was young and England
merry. We shall try to picture to ourselves these happy scenes of
innocent diversion which cheered the hearts of our forefathers in
bygone times.

[Illustration: A VILLAGE STREET]
We will try to collect the curious legends and stories which were told to
us by our grandsires, and are almost forgotten by the present generation.
These we should treasure up, lest they should be for ever lost. Local
tradition has often led the way to important discoveries.
In this brief circuit of an ordinary English village we have found many
objects which are calculated to excite our imagination and to stimulate
inquiry. A closer examination will well repay our study, and reward the
labour of the investigator. It is satisfactory to know that all possible
discoveries as to the antiquities of our villages have not yet been made.
We have still much to learn, and the earth has not yet disclosed all its
treasures. Roman villas still remain buried; the sepulchres of many a
Saxon chieftain or early nomad Celt are still unexplored; the pile
dwellings and cave domiciles of the early inhabitants of our country
have still to be discovered; and piles of records and historical
documents have still to be sought out, arranged, and examined. So there
is much work to be done by the antiquary for many a long year; and
every little discovery, and the results of every patient research, assist in
accumulating that store of knowledge which is gradually being
compiled by the hard labour of our