res of flower and insect life, meander
across White Hill and its sister ridge. One of them passes within a
short distance of the "Grey Mare" and her children and, farther on,
another group of mysterious stones. This way would take us to Little
Bredy, a village which, of no interest in itself, has been made a
scene of much beauty by the artificial widening of the little Bride
just below its source as it passes through the grounds of Bridehead.
The last resting places of our Neolithic ancestors are scattered in
great numbers about the heights that enfold the narrow cleft of the
infant stream.

[Illustration: THE CHARMOUTH ROAD.]

CHAPTER VI

WEST DORSET

The branch line of the Great Western from Maiden Newton makes a wide
detour northwards to reach Bridport, passing through a very charming
and unspoilt countryside where old "Do'set" ways still hold out
against that drab uniformity that seems to be creeping over rustic
England. In this out-of-the-way region are small old stone-built
villages lying forgotten between the folds of the hills and rejoicing
in names that makes one want to visit them if only for the sake of
their quaint nomenclature.

The first station is laconically called Toller. It serves the two
villages Toller Fratrum and Toller Porcorum. The Toller of the
Brothers is charmingly situated on the side of a low hill. It once
belonged to the Knights of St. John, whence its name. The Early
English church has an old font sculptured with the heads of what may
be saints, a possible relic of Saxon times; some antiquaries have
declared the work to be British of the later days of the Roman
occupation. In the church wall is a curious tablet representing Mary
Magdalene wiping our Lord's feet. The manor house was built by Sir
James Fulford, the great opponent of the Puritans. It is a delightful
house in an equally delightful situation and the beautiful tints of
the old walls will be admired as well as the admirable setting of the
mansion.

Toller of the Pigs may only mean the place where hogs were kept in
herds. The village is of little interest and has not the fine site of
the other. In the church is a font that is supposed to have once
served as a Roman altar.

Over the hills to the south-east is the little village of Wynford
Eagle, so called from the fact that it once belonged to that powerful
Norman family, the de Aquila, who held Pevensey Castle in Sussex after
the Conquest. The church is an exceed