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Hudson, W. H. (William Henry), 1841-1922

"Afoot in England"

The lapidary would not look at it; nevertheless, it
is the only article of jewellery I possess, and I value it
accordingly. And I intend to keep this native ruby by me for
as long as the lords of Abbotsbury continue in their present
mind. The time may come when I shall be obliged to throw it
away. That any millionaire should hesitate for a moment to
blast and blacken any part of the earth's surface, howsoever
green and refreshing to the heart it may be, when by so doing
he might add to his income, seems like a fable, or a tale of
fairyland. It is as if one had accidentally discovered the
existence of a little fantastic realm, a survival from a
remote past, almost at one's doors; a small independent
province, untouched by progress, asking to be conquered and
its antediluvian constitution taken from it.
From the summit of that commanding hill, over which the red
path winds, a noble view presents itself of the Chesil Bank,
or of about ten miles of it, running straight as any Roman
road, to end beneath the rugged stupendous cliffs of Portland.
The ocean itself, and not conquering Rome, raised this
artificial-looking wall or rampart to stay its own proud
waves. Formed of polished stones and pebbles, about two
hundred yards in width, flat-topped, with steeply sloping
sides, at this distance it has the appearance of a narrow
yellow road or causeway between the open sea on one hand and
the waters of the Fleet, a narrow lake ten miles long, on the
other.


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