haze shrouds their forms, entirely obliterating the more distant heights, the pleasure-seeker rests content in the promise of a fair morn; but no pleasant expectations can be formed when, robed in deepest purple, they seem to draw in and crowd together, and with vastly increased bulk to frown upon the darkening vale.

At each end of the Cotswold range, as seen from Evesham, stands, sentinel like, an isolated elevation, and in early times, as present remains testify, both these were occupied as fortified posts. To the east is Meon Hill, and to the south-west stands Bredon, the nearest and most prominent of the group. In the south-east the position of Broadway is decisively marked by its pseudo-Norman tower, and due south the level outline ended by an abrupt escarpment to the eastward is Cleeve Cloud, carrying the range on towards Cheltenham and Bristol.

But the chief glory of the vale, so far as its background is concerned, is the truly mountainous outline of the Malvern Hills, the whole length of which is seen bounding the western horizon. The breadth of the valley here is more than twenty miles from hill to hill, and includes both the Severn and its tributary stream. To how many does the thought of sunrise not recall this undulating range illuminated and glorified by the clear beams of the early sun striking across the vale and thrown back in glittering fragments by the long line of houses at its base! And few more beautiful associations will gather round the sunset than those in which Malvern plays its part, the rocky skyline standing up sharp and clear against the ever-changing brilliance. As we recall the scene the dazzling effulgence fades into a glow, the glow diminishes almost imperceptibly into twilight, and, as we watch, a line of twinkling lights becomes visible beneath the hill, and one by one the stars appear in the deepening sky.

Northward there are no striking elevations, the ground sloping gradually upward by the Lench Hills and the Ridge Way towards the great central tableland; but opposite Malvern, continuing the horizon to the north of Meon, can be seen, when the air is clear, beyond the flat Stour valley, the outline of Edgehill, recalling as we gaze the years of civil strife, full of terror and bloodshed, yet round which Time has thrown his mantle of romance.

So far we have been able to dwell on the broad features of the country which it takes many ages to change or modify. From the earliest times we can record the settlers on this chosen spot must have looked out on the same hills and the same broad valley with its overarching sky. But then, instead of the "crown of gold" of which Drayton sings, or the silver sheen which in springtime now glorifies the gardens, the face of the country was, we are told, one vast thicket of brushwood and forest trees. In Blakenhurst, meaning black forest, the name of the hundred in which the town is situated, we have an indication of the former character of this region. Only here and there was a clearing with a few huts giving shelter to a scanty population of herdsmen and hunters. In those shadowy times the river was broad and shallow, unconfined to one course, here swift and clear, there sluggish and thick, feeding creeks and marshes by the way, and overgrown with rushes and water weeds; of no use probably as a water-way but prolific in fish and fowl.

During historic times the vale has been hallowed by many events, and is sacred to many memories: there is hardly an acre which does not bear evidence of the doings of our forefathers through the long ages of which we have knowledge. The site of the town was apparently unoccupied by the Romans though their thoroughfares run not far distant, and their camps are numerous on the neighbouring hills. Not until Saxon times do we hear of this fertile peninsula being inhabited, and then we are told by the chroniclers of a village called Homme near this spot, the home of only a few peasants. Like many other towns and cities, in England, Evesham is said to have had a monastic origin, and for a long succession of years it is to the monastery alone that she owes her existence and celebrity. The monastic foundation dates from about A.D. 702, and from this time until the Conquest we know little of the fortunes of the place. Access would have been difficult in those days to so retired a spot protected on three sides by a broad river, and though doubtless there was a ford passable on horseback when the water was not in flood, yet until the building of the bridge it must have been isolated indeed. More than once we are told of ravages of the Danes. We know they penetrated far into the country, and Evesham did not escape their vigilance.

Side by side with the growth of the abbey the little village sprang up, and gradually increased in importance. No doubt in times of stress it was accustomed to look to that wealthy institution for succour. On the Church the inhabitants would be dependent for all sacred rites and the fulfilment of their spiritual needs; but occasionally we find them waxing independent, and even defying the abbot himself. At best, however, the fight must have been an unequal one, with wealth, learning, and power on the one side, and poverty and ignorance on the other. After an honourable career of eight hundred years the monastery was overthrown. Even this great abbey, with its wealth and power and integrity, was impotent to withstand the popular prejudice aroused by the exposure of the degradation and vice prevailing in so many kindred institutions, the greed of Henry VIII., and the ruthless energy of Thomas Cromwell. In a few years it was swept away, leaving only a few beautiful fragments to tell of its former grandeur.

Evesham's next great claim to notice is as the field of the decisive battle of 1265, ending in the defeat and death of Simon de Montfort, and the allies still remaining faithful to their leader. This event, we know, added much to the fame of the monastery, and reacted on the town by bringing many pilgrims to the grave of that popular hero. The tomb of the great Earl vied with, or exceeded in popularity, the many sacred relics already enshrined in the abbey church.

In early days, as has been pointed out, Evesham lay out of the common beat; the Avon formed a cul-de-sac, and the main road from Worcester to London and Oxford merely skirted the town, ascending Green Hill from Chadbury, continuing its course by what is now known as Blayney's Lane, and crossing the river by a ford or bridge at Offenham Ferry. In consequence of the growing importance of the town, the road was probably diverted to its present line.

Although in pre-Reformation days the abbey dominated the town and the abbot's will was practically law to the inhabitants, yet the townsmen on the whole lived quite apart, doing their own work, managing their own affairs, and enjoying themselves in their own way. The monastery, too, was complete in itself, having its own staff of servants and needing little, if any, outside help. The precincts of the abbey were as entirely shut in with their high wall and strong gates, all fortified in the Edwardian times, as any castle; and little of what went on in this self-contained society would be known to the people living without. It must be remembered also that the townsmen had their own church, that of All Saints, and only on special occasions would they be allowed entrance to the great church belonging to the monks. It would seem that the second church, dedicated to St. Lawrence, was principally used by pilgrims, and this was connected with the monastic buildings by a covered walk of stone.

To Edward the Confessor we learn the town owed certain rights connected with its