the left, you pass through a sort
of wicket gate on the right, and follow a foot-path to where two
magnificent trees crown the hill; it is wisest to wait until passing along
the level ridge you arrive at the "view point," and there, spread around
you in such a panorama as England only can show, and show against the
world for its extreme richness. On the left is Cooper's Hill, which
Denham, that high-priest of "Local poetry," long ago made famous; in the
bend just where it meets the plain, you see the towers of Windsor Castle;
there is Harrow Hill, the sun shining brightly on its tall church; a deep
pall hovers over London, but you can see the dome of St. Paul's looming
through the mist; nay, we have heard of those who have told the hour of
the day upon its broad-faced clock, with the assistance of a good glass.
How beautifully the Thames winds! Ay! there is the grand stand at Epsom,
and there Twickenham, delicious, soft, balmy Twickenham; and Richmond
Hill--a very queen of beauty!

[Illustration: REMAINS OF CHERTSEY ABBEY.]

REMAINS OF CHERTSEY ABBEY.

Yonder, beyond the valley, are Foxes Hills crowned with lofty pines--and
that is the church at Staines, and as you turn, there again is Cooper's
Hill; Laleham seems spread as a tribute at your feet, and there is no end
to the villages and mansions--the parks, and cottages like snow-drops in a
parterre, and church spires more than we can number; while close behind us
are the stones piled thickly one on the other--the only relics of the holy
Chapel of St. Anne.

How grandly the promontory of St. George's Hill stands out--sheltering
Weybridge, and forming a beautiful back-ground to Byfleet and the banks of
the Way; not forgetting its ruins--a Roman encampment of two thousand years
age, and its modern ornaments of rare trees, of which a generous nobleman
has made common property, to be enjoyed daily by all who choose. At the
foot of this richly planted hill, is the beautiful park of Oatlands--on the
eve of becoming an assemblage of villa-grounds. How pleasant to feel that
we can account, by our own knowledge of that glowing mount, for all the
shades formed by the hills and hollows, and different growths of trees in
the depths or heights of "the encampment," which forms the delight of many
a toilsome antiquary. Beyond are the more distant eminences of the North
Downs, and a tract of country extending into Kent. But we have not yet
e