ccasions as this, it is desirable to propose to
oneself some object for the satisfaction of accomplishing it, and to set
out with the intention of reaching some fixed point, though it should be
nothing better than a mile-stone, or a directing post. So I walked to
the Circle of Stones on the Penrith road, because there is a long hill
upon the way which would give the muscles some work to perform; and
because the sight of this rude monument which has stood during so many
centuries, and is likely, if left to itself, to outlast any edifice that
man could have erected, gives me always a feeling, which, however often
it may be repeated, loses nothing of its force.
The circle is of the rudest kind, consisting of single stones, unhewn and
chosen without any regard to shape or magnitude, being of all sizes, from
seven or eight feet in height, to three or four. The circle, however, is
complete, and is thirty-three paces in diameter. Concerning this, like
all similar monuments in Great Britain, the popular superstition
prevails, that no two persons can number the stones alike, and that no
person will ever find a second counting confirm the first. My children
have often disappointed their natural inclination to believe this wonder,
by putting it to the test and disproving it. The number of the stones
which compose the circle, is thirty-eight, and besides these there are
ten which form three sides of a little square within, on the eastern
side, three stones of the circle itself forming the fourth; this being
evidently the place where the Druids who presided had their station; or
where the more sacred and important part of the rites and ceremonies
(whatever they may have been) were performed. All this is as perfect at
this day as when the Cambrian bards, according to the custom of their
ancient order, described by my old acquaintances, the living members of
the Chair of Glamorgan, met there for the last time,
"On the green turf and under the blue sky,
Their heads in reverence bare, and bare of foot."
The site also precisely accords with the description which Edward
Williams and William Owen give of the situation required for such meeting
places:
"--a high hill top,
Nor bowered with trees, nor broken by the plough:
Remote from human dwellings and the stir
Of human life, and open to the breath
And to the eye of Heaven."
The high hill is now enclosed and cultivated; and a clump of larches has
be
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