THE HOLMWOOD AND OCKLEY. "Meditation here May think down hours to moments. May give a useful lesson to the head, Here the heart And learning wiser grow without her books." COWPER. Some of our readers will probably wonder at what they may deem omissions in this little volume. They may remember several exquisite haunts that are not even mentioned, and others which are only alluded to may appear to them worthy of a lengthened description. We are quite ready to acknowledge that a hundred scenes might be sketched which we have not brought into our picture; as it is, we have merely noted the more prominent of our country landmarks,-the broad features of the neighbourhood-leaving to all lovers of the beautiful the pleasure of exploring for themselves some of its minuter charms. Our task is nearly concluded. Our last excursion must be taken to-day. Starting upon the Horsham road, we soon reach the commencement of the Holmwood Common, an extensive tract of undulating land, covered with bushes, furze, and rough short grass, which is, however, tolerably good in some parts, and serves as food for a great number of horses and cattle. There are many cottages and several good mansions scattered over the Common. Lodging-houses, too, are rather numerous, and through the summer months generally occupied. Cockneys come hither to rusticate; mothers with delicate and town-nurtured children are glad to turn them out on this fresh, breezy Common, that they may learn something of the "vigorous joys of health;" and the weary bookworm, having found that "Study is like the heaven's glorious sun, Which must not be deep-searched with saucy looks," haply flings aside his musty tomes, to read the fairer page which is here spread out before him. The Redland woods, which lie to the right of the Common, as the tourist advances from Dorking, are very fine and should be well explored; they cover the side of a rather lofty eminence, over which there are several winding paths leading in the direction of Coldharbour. The Holmwood district Church is beautifully situated on the loftiest part of the Common, and the parsonage-house adjoining commands an extensive and glorious prospect, "graceful with hills and dales, and leafy woods." Defoe tells us that "Holmesdale" was once frequented by red deer, and that in the days of James 2nd," they have hunted the largest stags here that have been seen in England;" he also informs us that it was 66 once famous for producing such quantities of strawberries, that they were carried to market by horse-loads." Beyond the Common, the road possesses few features of interest until we deviate to the right in the direction of "Ockley, or Aclia, seated near an old Roman Post-Way, which is called Stony Street, where King Althelwold, son to King Egbert, fought M a bloody battel against the Danes which proved very successful unto him." "Oakley," says another writer, "is so called from the vast numbers of oak trees growing in the neighbourhood, and it had formerly a castle, which was besieged by the Danes, but relieved by King Ethelwolf, who came to the assistance of the place; it stood near the church, and the moat surrounding it is still visible. In the church-yard, are a great number of rose bushes at the heads of the graves, owing to a custom similar to that practised by the ancient Greeks, viz.—that when a lover dies before marriage, the survivor plants a rose at the head of the deceased, which is taken notice of by the people for many years after." Ockley is one of the prettiest of country villages. There is about it that quiet and reposeful beauty which so often charms us in this neighbourhood. Standing upon a beautiful green, backed by Leith Hill and Holmbury, and adorned with tasteful and rural cottages and a sparkling stream of water-it is a spot which Washington Irving would love, and to which he only could do justice. The authoress of "Our Village" would, indeed, have invested it with a different and perhaps superior charm, but she has entered the "silent waiting-hall where Adam meeteth with his children” and Miss Mitford's stories are concluded for ever. Ockley has been lately described in a rhyming letter, by Bessie Rayner Parkes, and the following lines may be very well inserted here. Ockley is a model village, Planted mainly amidst tillage; The tillage on that wholesale scale, In A sweet concession to the need Straight roads which cut it left and right, Old houses quaint and weather-streak'd, Here, when the morning, broadening over And kisses all the firs on Leith. The sense of freedom, rest, and calm, Falls on the town-sick heart like balm. Ockley has a village school, You pass the well, and next the pool, When a fair building meets the eye, Above the portal, pass it not, Are writ plain words, a name,-Jane Scott.* Poems by Bessie Rayner Parkes, pp. 149-150. Second Edition. John Chapman. It is but fair to this lady to say that her little volume must not be judged of from the extract we have given. It contains in it some true poetry-passages which haunt the memory and gladden us, like those "old songs, the precious music of the heart" which we learned in childhood and can never more forget. The well forms a beautiful and useful object on the village green. It was the gift, as the poem tells us, of Jane Scott, "who had resided with the Arbuthnot family at Elderslie (a large mansion on the eastern side of the green), nearly twenty years, in the humble situation of a nursery governess. On her decease, she bequeathed, with the most praiseworthy benevolence,-not only a sum of money for the construction of a well, but likewise a farther sum in aid of a school for the children of the poor parishioners." This is all we know of this generous woman, but as one touch of nature makes the whole world kin," so will the memory of Jane Scott survive with the works she has left behind her. 66 |