madam how and lady why(豪夫人和怀女士)-第56章
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this。
Then there is a crack which we can get through?
Look and see。
Why; we are coming to a regular wall of hill; and …
And going right through it in the dark。 We are in the Box Tunnel。
* * *
There is the light again: and now I suppose you will find your
tongue。
How long it seemed before we came out!
Yes; because you were waiting and watching; with nothing to look at:
but the tunnel is only a mile and a quarter long after all; I believe。 If you
had been looking at fields and hedgerows all the while; you would have
thought no time at all had passed。
What curious sandy rocks on each side of the cutting; in lines and
layers。
Those are the freestone still: and full of fossils they are。 But do you
see that they dip away from us? Remember that。 All the rocks are
sloping eastward; the way we are going; and each new rock or soil we
come to lies on the top of the one before it。 Now we shall run down hill
for many a mile; down the back of the oolites; past pretty Chippenham;
and Wootton…Bassett; towards Swindon spire。 Look at the country; child;
and thank God for this fair English land; in which your lot is cast。
What beautiful green fields; and such huge elm trees; and orchards;
and flowers in the cottage gardens!
Ay; and what crops; too: what wheat and beans; turnips and mangold。
All this land is very rich and easily worked; and hereabouts is some of the
best farming in England。 The Agricultural College at Cirencester; of
which you have so often heard; lies thereaway; a few miles to our left; and
there lads go to learn to farm as no men in the world; save English and
Scotch; know how to farm。
But what rock are we on now?
On rock that is much softer than that on the other side of the oolite
hills: much softer; because it is much newer。 We have got off the
oolites on to what is called the Oxford clay; and then; I believe; on to the
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Coral rag; and on that again lies what we are coming to now。 Do you see
the red sand in that field?
Then that is the lowest layer of a fresh world; so to speak; a world still
younger than the oolitesthe chalk world。
But that is not chalk; or anything like it。
No; that is what is called Greensand。
But it is not green; it is red。
I know: but years ago it got the name from one green vein in it; in
which the 〃Coprolites;〃 as you learnt to call them at Cambridge; are found;
and that; and a little layer of blue clay; called gault; between the upper
Greensand and lower Greensand; runs along everywhere at the foot of the
chalk hills。
I see the hills now。 Are they chalk?
Yes; chalk they are: so we may begin to feel near home now。 See
how they range away to the south toward Devizes; and Westbury; and
Warminster; a goodly land and large。 At their feet; everywhere; run the
rich pastures on which the Wiltshire cheese is made; and here and there; as
at Westbury; there is good iron…ore in the greensand; which is being
smelted now; as it used to be in the Weald of Surrey and Kent ages since。
I must tell you about that some other time。
But are there Coprolites here?
I believe there are: I know there are some at Swindon; and I do not
see why they should not be found; here and there; all the way along the
foot of the downs; from here to Cambridge。
But do these downs go to Cambridge?
Of course they do。 We are now in the great valley which runs right
across England from south…west to north…east; from Axminster in
Devonshire to Hunstanton in Norfolk; with the chalk always on your right
hand; and the oolite hills on your left; till it ends by sinking into the sea;
among the fens of Lincolnshire and Norfolk。
But what made that great valley?
I am not learned enough to tell。 Only this I think we can say that
once on a time these chalk downs on our right reached high over our heads
here; and far to the north; and that Madam How pared them away; whether
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by icebergs; or by sea…waves; or merely by rain; I cannot tell。
Well; those downs do look very like sea…cliffs。
So they do; very like an old shore…line。 Be that as it may; after the
chalk was eaten away; Madam How began digging into the soils below the
chalk; on which we are now; and because they were mostly soft clays; she
cut them out very easily; till she came down; or nearly down; to the harder
freestone rocks which run along on our left hand; miles away; and so she
scooped out this great vale; which we call here the Vale of White Horse;
and further on; the Vale of Aylesbury; and then the Bedford Level; and
then the dear ugly old Fens。
Is this the Vale of White Horse? Oh; I know about it; I have read The
Scouring of the White Horse。
Of course you have; and when you are older you will read a jollier
book still;Tom Brown's School Daysand when we have passed
Swindon; we shall see some of the very places described in it; close on our
right。
* * *
There is the White Horse Hill。
The White Horse Hill? But where is the horse? I can see a bit of
him: but he does not look like a horse from here; or indeed from any
other place; he is a very old horse indeed; and a thousand years of wind
and rain have spoilt his anatomy a good deal on the top of that wild down。
And is that really where Alfred fought the Danes?
As certainly; boy; I believe; as that Waterloo is where the Duke fought
Napoleon。 Yes: you may well stare at it with all your eyes; the noble
down。 It is one of the most sacred spots on English soil。
Ah; it is gone now。 The train runs so fast。
So it does; too fast to let you look long at one thing: but in return; it
lets you see so many more things in a given time than the slow old
coaches and posters did。Well? what is it?
I wanted to ask you a question; but you won't listen to me。
Won't I? I suppose I was dreaming with my eyes open。 You see; I
have been so often along this lineand through this country; too; long
before the line was madethat I cannot pass it without its seeming full of
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memoriesperhaps of ghosts。
Of real ghosts?
As real ghosts; I suspect; as any one on earth ever saw; faces and
scenes which have printed themselves so deeply on one's brain; that when
one passes the same place; long years after; they start up again; out of
fields and roadsides; as if they were alive once more; and need sound
sense to send them back again into their place as things which are past for
ever; for good and ill。 But what did you want to know?
Why; I am so tired of looking out of the window。 It is all the same:
fields and hedges; hedges and fields; and I want to talk。