The ascent
further down the road almost amounts to a feat, assisted by the
foot-worn paces in the chalky steep. Here this portion of the hill
resembles an immense wall of _viretum_, down whose side has been poured
liquid mortar. The path winds along the verge of the hill, whilst on the
left is a valley or little ravine, whose sides are clothed with thick
dwarfish box, intermingled with the wild and trackless luxuriance of
forest scenery. Hence the road stretches away to Ashurst, the neat
residence of Mr. Strahan, the King's printer.
Returning to the verge of the hill, you soon reach the _apex_, or
highest point, being 445 feet from the level of the Mole.[1] Here you
enjoy what the French call a _coup d'oeil_, or I would rather say, _a
bird's-eye view_, of unparalleled beauty. Taking the town of Dorking for
a resting point, the long belt is about twelve miles in extent. The
outline or boundary commences from the eminence on which I am supposed
to be standing--with Brockham Hill, whose steep was planted by the late
duke of Norfolk, and whence the chain extends away towards the great
Brighton road.
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