searchings of the drainer at the foot of the South Downs, in Sussex; but there they probably are; for Kent was the most genial, most civilized part of Britain when the Roman held possession of our land, and well might the officer of the Praetorian Guards, however much he may have longed after the games of the Circus, and missed his walk or drive along the Via Sacra, have blessed his lucky stars that he was not doomed to waste away his life on the cold and savage hills of Northumberland.
   Nor is this camp the only vestige of the Roman,—there is another very curious one, if it will be accepted as such by our readers. In the Weald of Kent, and more frequently in that of Sussex, it often happens that the traveller finds in the quiet valleys large sheets of water, in some cases rising almost to the dignity of lakes, which have been formed in other days by the damming up of one end of a valley through which some brook made its way; they are often beautiful features in the landscape, being frequently fringed with wood to the water's edge,—such a one there is, called Furnace Pond, close to Cowden, which covers an area of twenty-two acres. This is one of those numerous reservoirs of water, now the abode of those quiet fish, the carp and tench, which were formed to obtain sufficient water-power to work the mills at a time when this country, now one of the most silent districts in England, rang night and day, as Camden describes it, with the sound of hammers, filling the neighbourhood with continual noise. Iron-stone was at hand and there was abundance of wood for fuel, and there the forges blazed till the opening of fresh fields of coal in the northern parts of England, and the discovery of richer ores of iron there, blew out the furnaces of Kent and Sussex for ever. 
    The local names of woods and lanes are strongly imbued with this craft of other days. There is Hammerwood and Cinder Hill, Canse Iron, and the Forge Wood,