CHAPTER LX.
The Still Hour--A Thrill--The Wondrous Circle--The Shepherd--Heaps and Barrows--What do you Mean ?--Milk of the Plains--Hengist spared it--No Presents.
After standing still a minute or two, considering what I should do, I moved down what appeared to be the street of a small straggling town; presently I passed by a church, which rose indistinctly on my right hand; anon there was the rustling of foliage and the rushing of waters.

I reached a bridge, beneath which a small stream was running in the direction of the south.

I stopped and leaned over the parapet, for I have always loved to look upon streams, especially at the still hours.
"What stream is this, I wonder ?" said I, as I looked down from the parapet into the water, which whirled and gurgled below.
Leaving the bridge, I ascended a gentle acclivity, and presently reached what appeared to be a tract of moory undulating ground.

It was now tolerably light, but there was a mist or haze abroad which prevented my seeing objects with much precision.

I felt chill in the damp air of the early morn, and walked rapidly forward.