mense and interminable downs for which Wiltshire is so noted; they are
dreary and barren enough in themselves, but at such a point as this,
where the foreground and middle distance are as verdant and richly clad
with trees as can possibly be desired, their effect is very beautiful.
The absence of enclosures produces breadth and repose, and the local
colour melts gradually into the grey distance in the most charming
manner. Looking westward the great avenue, a mile in length, presents
itself; to the south the Beacon-terrace, a green road more than two miles
long, leads to a high hill, where the Alderman commenced, but never
finished, a triangular tower. This road, or rather avenue, has a most
charming effect; the trees that bound its sides are planted in a zigzag
direction, so as to destroy the appearance of formality, whilst in
reality it is a straight road, and you walk at once in a direct line,
without losing the time you would if the road were more tortuous. On the
south side the view is most fascinating. In a deep hollow not half-a-
mile off, enbosomed, nay almost buried amidst groves of pine and beech,
are discovered the dark waters of the bittern lake. The immense
plantations of dark pines give it this sombre hue, but in reality the
waters are clear as crystal. Beyond these groves, still looking south,
you discover the woods about Wardour Castle, and amongst them the silvery
gleam of another sheet of water. To the south-west is the giant spire of
Salisbury, which since the fall of Fonthill Tower now reigns in solitary
stateliness over these vast regions of down and desert. Stourton Tower
presents itself to the north, whilst to the west, in the extreme
distance, several high hills are traced which have quite a mountainous
character--

Naveled in the woody hills,
And calm as cherished hate, its surface wears
A deep, cold, settled aspect nought can shake.

The north wing of the Abbey, containing the oratory, does not seem to
have suffered from the fall of the Tower, and we next proceeded to
inspect it. A winding staircase from the kitchen court leads you at once
to that portion of the gallery called the vaulted corridors. The
ceilings of four consecutive rooms are beautiful beyond all expectation.
Prepared as I was by the engravings in Rutter and Britton to admire these
ceilings, I confess that the real thing was finer than I could possibly
have imagined. King Edward's ceiling of dark oak (and it