other. We should expect a fort in the angle, commanding
both, which is not the case. The Watling-street is lost for about half a
mile, leading over a morass, only the line is faintly preserved, by a
blind path over the inclosures: the Ikenield-street crosses it in this
morass, not the least traces of which remain. But, by a strict
attention, I could point out their junction to a few yards.

Six furlongs west of this junction, and one hundred yards north of the
Watling-street, in a close, now about three acres, are the remains of
the Roman fortress. This building, of strength and terror, is reduced to
one piece of thick wall, visibly of Roman workmanship, from whence the
place derives its modern name.

Can you, says I to a senior peasant, for I love to appeal to old age,
tell the origin of that building?

"No; but we suppose it has been a church. The ruins were much larger in
my memory; but they were lately destroyed, to bring the land into that
improved state of cultivation in which you see it."--And so you reduced
a fortress in four years, which the Britons never could in four hundred.
For a trifling profit, you eraze the work of the ancients, and prevent
the wonder of the moderns.--Are you apprised of any old walls under
the surface?

"Yes; the close is full of them: I have broke three ploughs in one day;
no tool will stand against them. It has been more expensive to bring the
land into its present condition, than the freehold is worth." Why, you
seem more willing to destroy than your tools; and more able than time.
The works which were the admiration of ages, you bury under ground. What
the traveller comes many miles to see, you assiduously hide.

What could be the meaning that the Romans erected their station on the
declivity of this hill, when the summit, two hundred yards distant, is
much more eligible; are there no foundations upon it? "None."

The commandry is preferable: the Watling-street runs by it, and it is
nearer the Ikenield-street. Pray, are you acquainted with another Roman
road which crosses it? "No."

Do you know any close about the village, where a narrow bed of gravel,
which runs a considerable length, has impeded the plough?

"Yes; there is a place, half a mile distant, where, when a child, I
drove the plough; we penetrated a land of gravel, and my companion's
grandfather told us, it had been an old road."--That is the place I
want, lead me to it. Being already master of both ends of the r