tipped, and that of the service, grey-green with white under-sides in autumn the clustered scarlet berries of the wayfaring-tree and guelder, and the creamy-white stars of the clematis-flower; in winter the feathery filaments of the same plant and the rosy capsules of the spindle bursting with their orange seeds, are prominent among the picturesque details. Not less vivid and delightful are the contrasts of light and shade. The gentle depressions into which the slopes are cleft serve as dials to mark the shifting of the sun, being bathed in his full beams at noontide only; the darkness of their shadows relieving the whiteness of the paths which wind up to the green summits, the rough edges which define the severance of woodland from tillage and fallow, the abrupt cutting of a lane athwart the main road, or the deep chasm of a chalkpit. At no great distance from the North Downs in any part of their course, and in places closely contiguous, runs the lower sandstone range of the Quarry Hills, readily distinguishable by their broken outlines, the russet tinting of their iron-impregnated rocks, and their characteristic clothing of pine and oak woods, which shadow a profuse growth of fern, gorse, broom, heath, and ling. Favourite among the attractions of both ranges is the number of panoramic views to be obtained from their coigns of vantage.' Morant's Court and Wrotham Hills upon the chalk, and River and Ide Hills upon the sand, are especially famous. It is questionable, however, if the wide sweep of landscape thence spread beneath the view, wherein all but a few notable objects are indefinitely blended and dwarfed in common, possesses the beauty of definite form and proportion afforded by less extensive prospects. One height in particular, on the road from Eynsford to Orpington, commands a distant vista over the Vale of Holmesdale, where the parallel chalk ridges face each other in convex curves, than which, when seen in summer weather, Claude, in his happiest mood, has rarely imagined a more harmonious composition of rounded contours, winding stream, pastoral meadows, stately tree-groups, and misty purple horizon. The lesser declivities of both chalk and sand, and the plains between them, furnish the most favourable situations for the culture of Kent's typical products, cherries and hops. As elements in the landscape and factors in the wealth of the county, the latter must be allowed pre-eminence. Beautiful as the cherry orchards are in their seasons of white flowering and ruddy fruiting, these occupy but a brief portion of the year, after which the trees lapse into comparative insignificance, and are often rendered unsightly by the exigencies of pruning. The hop, on the other hand, from the day its shoots first appear above ground until the day when its ripened glory falls to the knife-a period of some six months-is a permanently graceful object; and its precarious tenure of health, threatened as it is to the last by countless enemies, inspires tender interest. No other spec tacle in the range of English agriculture is comparable to the beauty of an upland hop garden at its prime in a fortunate year; when, down a succession of narrowing avenues, the tangled luxuriance of leaves, clusters, and tendrils, over-weighting the poles that support them, fascinates the eye with an endless variety of wreathing and drooping lines, and the mellowest blending of green and golden tints. Even in winter, when the charm of the bine is over, the quaintly constructed oast-houses in which the ripe flowers are dried, and the groups of bare poles set cone-wise in rows above the hidden roots, presenting the aspect of a 'tented field,' impart a unique character to the scene. Though capricious beyond every other crop in its fluctuations of quality and value, hops are unparalleled in a good season for their potential wealth.' Hop-picking is more widely popular and attracts a more nondescript gathering of labourers than any other agricultural employment; the metropolis sending forth a large contingent of social waifs to swell their ranks. Men, women, and children alike take part in it, whole families camping out for the purpose. Domestic servants are scarcely to be obtained while 'hopping' lasts, many giving up their situations to seize the opportunity. Other tracts of the chalk and sand districts, particularly near London, are set apart for 'ground fruit-strawberries, raspberries, currants, gooseberries, filberts and cobnuts. With the exception of a few heaths, which may be counted on the fingers, and a goodly number of parks, there is little or no uncultivated ground anywhere to be seen. Tillage, pasture, and woodland absorb all the space not occupied by habitations. The corn grown, on the chalk especially, is abundant and strong in straw, if not of the highest quality; and provided the rainfall be sufficient, the upland hay and clover can scarcely be excelled. The wool of the sheep bred on the same soil enjoys a reputation not limited to England. Differing in many characteristics from the hill-regions of Kent is that recognised as The Weald.' Originally a forestal tract of undefined extent, and still nominally including portions of several parishes which stretch to the chalk and sand ranges, it is for the most part confined to the lowlands, and its prevailing soil is a stiff clay. The thick woods of 'grete okes,' which distinguished it even in Saxon times, have not yet disappeared, and its ancient condition is permanently stamped upon the parochial nomenclature. Hurst, which is a common local termination, means simply wood. Den, which is still more common, sometimes stands for a valley or other sequestered place, but usually signifies the wooded tract set apart in all early grants of manors or lands hereabouts for the pannage (or acorn-feeding) of swine. Chart, another local name, seems to have been applied to the denser portions of the woods; while ley indicated the open glades where cattle lay, and field the patches of felled or cleared ground in the heart of the forest.2 The Weald still retains, and to some extent deserves, its early reputation for miry ways, and the justice of the description of its seaboard and river-side flats as wealth without health' is proved by the ague and low fever which haunt those succulent pastures. As a feeding ground for sheep and cattle Romney Marsh in particular is unrivalled, and the expenditure of skill, labour, and money required to protect it from the ever-threatening inundation of the sea and drain it to the desired standard of moisture is amply repaid. Desolate as is the general aspect of this vast treeless expanse, flanked by its long sea-wall, and scored by endless dykes, with nothing to break the monotonous green level but the slowly shifting forms of innumerable herds, or the heavy-winged flight of a grey carrion crow, some of its luminous and atmospheric effects are notably picturesque. These indeed are seldom wanting to the surface of any great champaign, when noon floods the foreground with gold, or sunset turns the distance into jasper; but here they are heightened by the neighbourhood of the sea, with its contrasted scope of infinitude and its inexhaustible treasury of light and shade. Not without a pleasant blending, too, of poetry and political economy are the reflections which this and so many other Kentish scenes suggest. All these fair, fertile and opulent fields, fruit-grounds, and plains are but environs of the metropolis, and designed to minister to the material wants of the largest congregation of human beings in the world. Leagues of mead and marsh, Flecked white with sheep or mottled brown with kine, Notwithstanding its metropolitan neighbourhood and close relations of dependence, Kent has as yet suffered less than any of the home counties from suburban invasion. There are parts of it within twelve or fifteen miles of Charing Cross which could scarcely have been wilder three centuries ago than they are to-day, and at a little distance further one reaches the very heart of the country. To indicate the locality of these solitudes more precisely would be wantonly inviting profanation, but no one who is likely to value them will find their discovery difficult. Somewhat further yet, you may light upon as many survivals of ancient savagery as perhaps any English county now retains. In the forest of the Blean the rare yellow pinemarten' is said to be occasionally found.' Cobham Park still boasts a heronry, and until within the last few years a raven's nest was built every spring in Lullingstone Park. An otter is now and then heard of, but the trout streams are so precious that his life is not worth a day's purchase. Of trees and plants rarely growing wild in England, 2 See Isaac Taylor's Words and Places, and Furley's Weald of Kent. 6 Kent can show the sweet chestnut about Sittingbourne, the fig at Reculver, the box at Boxley, and the osmunda and hymenophyllum ferns near Tunbridge Wells. The streams of Kent are not many, but they include two, the Medway and the Swale, of great importance as water highways, and affluents of the estuary of the Thames. Near their mouths the chief oyster fisheries are situate. The lesser streams are mainly utilised in the conflicting interests of paper-making and trout-fishing, but one at least, the Darent, possesses the independent attraction of uncommon beauty. Along some five miles of its course its moods are most fitful and alluring. After gliding slowly through Lullingstone Park, it leaps and sparkles over a weir above the Castle, fills a little lake and turns a mill-wheel; then, winding through green meadows, by many a fairy foreland set with willow-weed and mallow,' bounds swiftly along a clear flinty bed under a quaint old bridge, and over another mill-dam, to wash the grey ruins of Eynsford Castle; then, flowing quietly through a long stretch of fields, turns a third mill, and divides its current into two branches in order to serve a fourth, but reunites them under the chestnutshadowed bridge of Farningham; from whence, after hiding itself beneath a thick screen of leafage, it passes out beside the Tudor mansion of Franks, and shoots under another bridge to thread the willowy banks of Kirby Hall. These repeated shiftings present a succession of pictures as variously graceful as the musical ripple which accompanies them is uniformly soothing. The landspring torrents, locally called 'nailbournes,' (a word of doubtful etymology), must not be overlooked among the phenomena of the chalk district. They are supposed to originate in hidden fissures, wherein the water collects, and after a rainy season suddenly overflows. One which rises near Addington, and passes through a stratum of iron-sand on its descent into the Leyburn brook, becomes so discoloured as to turn the trout red. In respect of mineral products Kent holds its own among the counties. Its rag-stone is in universal repute, and its gault, lime, and copperas are in steady demand. The limestone quarries have yielded some of the largest fossil reptilia found in England. The masses of flint which abound in the chalk have from early times been largely used for building, and banded with courses of brick make solid and durable walls. It would transcend the limits of this sketch to touch upon the characteristics exhibited by cities, towns, and villages. Canterbury and Rochester alone would each require an article to itself. A passing word must suffice to indicate the architectural beauties which lie on every hand. Besides the two great cathedrals, the ruins of Christ Church and St. Augustine's, Canterbury, of Boxley, Malling, and Bayham abbeys, of Dover, Saltwood, Rochester, Hever, and Allington VOL. X.-No. 54. X castles, and the still perfect mansions of Knole, Leeds, Penshurst, Cobham, Ightham Mote, and Franks, are noble examples of the days 'when men knew how to build.' All periods of Gothic, from Saxon to Perpendicular, are worthily represented in the Kentish churches. Of such special features as they possess, only a professed ecclesiologist should venture to speak. Those interested in the subject may be referred to a volume of notes by the late Sir Stephen Glynne. The prevalence of shingled spires in the wooded districts and of angular turrets in the churches of West and Mid Kent, together with the unusual pattern of the tracery in certain windows of the Decorated period (recognised as 'Kentish tracery'), are points that no intelligent observer is likely to miss. In domestic architecture, perhaps the most typical Kentish building is the farmhouse of Queen Anne's time, a solid square of red brick, with little porch, dormer windows, and a steeply sloping tiled roof. Timbered houses of much earlier date are also common. The county families, noble and gentle, boast some of the oldest blood in the kingdom. One, the Lewins, claims direct descent from Leofwin, brother of King Harold. The name of the Nevills recalls the Wars of the Roses, and those of Sidney, Sackville, Filmer, Hales, and Twisden, of which representatives still flourish, carry one back at a leap to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The yeomen, if no longer realising their ideal description in the popular distich A squire of Wales, a knight of Cales, And a laird of the north countrie; include many prosperous farmers and householders. The inhabitants generally, whether entitled to rank as 'men of Kent 'or' Kentish men' (a distinction of disputable significance 3), do not discredit the high reputation which historically attaches to them. Cæsar bore testimony to their superior civilisation by comparison with other British tribes, and seems to have thought it explained by their near neighbourhood to Gaul.4 A like cause the refining influence of international culture-may account for the courtesy which prevails among all classes, and the hospitable reception that a stranger uniformly meets with. Their ancient renown for valour was so high that the vanguard was always assigned to them in encounters with the Danes. A single instance of their tenacious courage is recorded during the Civil War, when Fairfax, with a force of 10,000 men, stormed Maidstone, which was defended by 2,000 Royalists, so gallantly that every street in the town,' says Whitelock, was got by inches; and the See Murray's Handbook, pp. 176–7, for three different explanations of this distinction. De Bell. Gall. lib. v. c. 14. |
