however, we will return by-and-by. The first thing you notice is how much higher the ground is on the upper part of the slope against the hedge, than on the other side. In some cases it may be five or six feet-indeed, the latter is any thing but an unusual occurrence. How is this? It is certain that the original makers of the hedge never so banked up the soil; it would take no small time to do it. The real explanation has to be sought for in meteorological agencies. The rains of many generations have washed away the surface soils, especially in cultivated fields, and the slope of the ground has caused the material to be carried down. The hedge has stopped its further conveyance, and thus caused the upper side of the hedge to be so much higher than the lower. Destroy the hedge, as is often done when one field has to be thrown into another, and you will have running parallel with a valley a genuine terrace, which some geologist hereafter, ignorant of the true cause, may put down to having been formed when the river stood much higher than it does now; or, if he be more visionary, may see in it an old seabeach, formed when the sea last came up this particular valley, and made of it an estuary!

Let us now return to the lanes. Many of them are deep, as if they had been cut, when in reality it is the ground on the other side the hedge which has been raised in the manner just described. How old some of these hawthorn shrubs really are we dare not say. The origin of the lanes is lost in antiquity. Many

of them are old "occupation roads," formed for the convenience of the original cultivators of the soil and without any reference to the wants of future wayfarers, and depend upon it, certainly without giving a thought to future botanists and entomologists! You observe the thick gnarled bases of the hedges, some of which have been pollarded time out mind. It is just possible that they were planted as hawthorn sprigs by the first Saxon settlers in these parts! Many of our old roads and lanes are the boundaries of parishes which have retained their present area since the Conquest, therefore many of the hedges must have been in existence since then. Only those who are acquainted with the manners and customs of the first Saxon settlers, are aware of the great value they set on the hawthorn fence as a protection. Even now, when an Englishman travels in France for the first time, it seems strange to him to find what an absence of hedgerows there is. Perhaps nothing appears in greater contrast in the scenery than this. And should England ever be attacked by a foreign foe, it is more than likely we should, for the first time, realize the defensible value of our hedgerows, and obtain from them that cover and protection which their original planters had in view when they stuck the first twig in the ground. Every field and hedge would be disputed, and an invader would meet with obstacles which exist in no other country in the world. Whether the first Saxon settlers brought the hawthorn with

them or not, it is certain they attached great importance to it. Their early towns-a mere collection of huts were surrounded with a strong hawthorn fence, so that, in the terminal syllable of many of our English village names, we have a reference to this fact. Ton or town—as we have modernized it—is in allusion to the forked branches of the quickset fence and in the tine of an antler, and in the tine of a fork we have the original word still applied. Ton is merely a syllable from the same root, and is a silent but expressive testimony to the ancient thorny and forked character of the defences adopted by our Saxon forefathers. Other village names end in sett, as "Hethersett," from the Anglo-Saxon sætan, to plant. In such cases the name is derived from the ancient swine pastures, which were enclosed with thorn fences, nothing else being capable of arresting the migratory impulses of the "porkers." To this day we call a hawthorn hedge, par parenthèse, a quick-set" fence, showing what vitality many of these old words possess, and how much of genuine history is silently locked up in their almost forgotten meanings. Indeed, the Anglo-Saxon student, on his first introduction to the language, is surprised to find how largely the use of the hawthorn has entered into the composition of our English village names. Thus the old enclosures for the purposes of the chase, made with this hedge, were called "haighs 'haighs" or heys." In Lancashire, the fruit or drupe of the hawthorn is still called "haigh," whilst elsewhere it is termed "haw," and

66

"Ham"

thus the prickly plant itself "hawthorn."
is a very common termination of our village names,
especially in eastern and south-eastern England,
and was derived from the original settlements of
the early Saxons being "hemmed" in chiefly by
hedges. So that this shrub has more or less
influenced that dearest of all English words, home,
which has been undoubtedly derived from ham!

It may appear as if we had wandered from our place "by the tarn side," but if we have it has been merely to glance dreamily and lazily at the quiet history of the lanes and hedges through which we have passed on our way. All these objects are only so many beads, and it is necessary to have a string to connect them together. Now that we have once more arrived at our tarn side, we will proceed to note its inhabitants, animal and vegetable, which have possibly held possession longer than the lords of the manor over which we have been travelling. The quiet of the spot has a subduing charm, and it is in moments like these, when we give ourselves up to the influence of nature, that we feel a true companionship with all living things. Certainly, in this case, the tarn is inexpressibly handy to us, as enabling us, in our rambles in the "green lanes" not only to rest ourselves after our stroll, but to make acquaintance with objects we cannot find elsewhere; and therefore, we feel sure our readers will not be disposed to quarrel with a scheme intended to enlarge the circle of objects which we wish to introduce to their notice.

CHAPTER II.

THE FISHES, MOLLUSCA, AND OTHER OBJECTS IN THE

TARN.

OW that we are well settled by some brook or tarn side, with a view to making ourselves acquainted with its

living contents, animal and vegetable, we shall find our attention almost bewildered by the variety of material. It is only when you thus devote yourself systematically to its examination, that you wonder at the exuberance with which every spot capable of supporting it is peopled with life-forms.

Foremost among the inhabitants of such streams or tarns as it may dwell in is the Pike (Esox lucius). Well does it deserve its name of the "fresh-water shark." No object in nature has a more cruel, voracious look than this fish. Depend upon it, if there is one present, he is lurking this sunny morning just where the break occurs in the weeds that so thickly cover the surface of the water. There he will lie, as if in a comatose state, for hours,