was 440 feet above the sea-level, rivers running from it in every direction, and such was the extent of the country visible from the Cross that with the aid of a telescope fifty-six churches could be seen.  This elevated position might account for the Cross being struck by lightning in 1791 and partially destroyed, but the inscriptions on the base, which had been left standing, were still visible, although partially obscured by the numerous names and initials of vandals, who have succeeded in closing many interesting places to more civilised and sensible people.  We could perhaps go further and describe them as fools, for what will it matter to posterity what their initials or names are; they only rouse the ire of those who follow them and a feeling of disappointment that they had not caught the offenders in their act of wanton mischief and been able to administer some corporal punishment or other.

Years ago the benevolent owner of a fine estate situated near a town decided to open his beautiful grounds to his poorer neighbours, but before doing so he erected at the entrance gate two large wooden tablets resembling the two tablets of the Ten Commandments formerly fixed in churches but now rapidly disappearing, and on these he caused his conditions and desires to be painted in poetry, four verses on each tablet.  They represent what most landowners desire but few obtain: 

  I

  No chief to enter at this gate
  To wander through this fine estate;
  The owner of this ancient Hall
  A kindly welcome bids to all: 
  Yet hopes that no one will neglect
  The following wishes to respect.

  II

  When in the meadows grown for hay. 
  Keep to the Drive or right of way. 
  Fright not the cattle on the lea
  Nor damage flower nor shrub nor tree;
  And let no vestiges be found
  Of paper, scattered o’er the ground.

  III

  One more request will sure suffice: 
  From carving any rude device
  Refrain! and oh let no one see
  Your name on post, or bridge or tree. 
  Such were the act of fool, whose name
  We fear can ne’er descend to fame.

  IV

  Your olive-branches with you take,
  And let them here their pastime make. 
  These scenes will ever seem more fair
  When children’s voices fill the air: 
  Or bring, as comrade in your stroll,
  Your Dog, if under due control.

  V

  If, to the gentle art inclined,
  To throw a fly you have a mind. 
  Send in your card and state your wish
  To be allowed to catch a fish: 
  Or if the woodland to explore,
  Pray seek permission at the door.

  VI

  These boons are granted not quite free,
  Y’et for a very moderate fee;
  Nor fear but what it is ordained
  That all the money thus obtained
  Shall to the fund be handed down
  For aid to sick in yonder Town.