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materials。 She is like the sailor who boasted （only she never boasts） that；
if he had but a long life and a strong knife； he would build St。 Paul's
Cathedral before he was done。 And Madam How has a very long life；
and plenty of time； and one of the strongest of all her tools is water。 Now
if you will stoop down and look into the heather； I will show you how she
is digging out the glen with this very mist which is hanging about our feet。
At least； so I guess。
For see how the mist clings to the points of the heather leaves； and
makes drops。 If the hot sun came out the drops would dry； and they
would vanish into the air in light warm steam。 But now that it is dark
and cold they drip； or run down the heather…stems； to the ground。 And
whither do they go then？ Whither will the water go；hundreds of
gallons of it perhaps；which has dripped and run through the heather in
this single day？ It will sink into the ground； you know。 And then what
will become of it？ Madam How will use it as an underground spade； just
as she uses the rain （at least； when it rains too hard； and therefore the rain
runs off the moor instead of sinking into it） as a spade above ground。
Now come to the edge of the glen； and I will show you the mist that
fell yesterday； perhaps； coming out of the ground again； and hard at work。
You know of what an odd； and indeed of what a pretty form all these
glens are。 How the flat moor ends suddenly in a steep rounded bank；
almost like the crest of a waveready like a wave… crest to fall over； and as
you know； falling over sometimes； bit by bit； where the soil is bare。
Oh； yes； you are very fond of those banks。 It is 〃awfully jolly；〃 as
you say； scrambling up and down them； in the deep heath and fern； besides；
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MADAM HOW AND LADY WHY
there are plenty of rabbit…holes there； because they are all sand； while
there are no rabbit…holes on the flat above； because it is all gravel。
Yes； you know all about it： but you know； too； that you must not go
too far down these banks； much less roll down them； because there is
almost certain to be a bog at the bottom； lying upon a gentle slope； and
there you get wet through。
All round these hills； from here to Aldershot in one direction； and from
here to Windsor in another； you see the same shaped glens； the wave…crest
along their top； and at the foot of the crest a line of springs which run out
over the slopes； or well up through them in deep sand…galls； as you call
themshaking quagmires which are sometimes deep enough to swallow
up a horse； and which you love to dance upon in summer time。 Now the
water of all these springs is nothing but the rain； and mist； and dew； which
has sunk down first through the peaty soil； and then through the gravel and
sand； and there has stopped。 And why？ Because under the gravel
（about which I will tell you a strange story one day） and under the sand；
which is what the geologists call the Upper Bagshot sand； there is an
entirely different set of beds； which geologists call the Bracklesham beds；
from a place near the New Forest； and in those beds there is a vein of clay；
and through that clay the water cannot get； as you have seen yourself when
we dug it out in the field below to puddle the pond…head； and very good
fun you thought it； and a very pretty mess you made of yourself。 Well：
because the water cannot get though this clay； and must go somewhere； it
runs out continually along the top of the clay； and as it runs undermines
the bank； and brings down sand and gravel continually for the next shower
to wash into the stream below。
Now think for one moment how wonderful it is that the shape of these
glens； of which you are so fond； was settled by the particular order in
which Madam How laid down the gravel and sand and mud at the bottom
of the sea； ages and ages ago。 This is what I told you； that the least thing
that Madam How does to…day may take effect hundreds and thousands of
years hence。
But I must tell you I think there was a time when this glen was of a
very different shape from what it is now； and I dare say； according to your
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MADAM HOW AND LADY WHY
notions； of a much prettier shape。 It was once just like one of those
Chines which we used to see at Bournemouth。 You recollect them？ How
there was a narrow gap in the cliff of striped sands and gravels； and out of
the mouth of that gap； only a few feet across； there poured down a great
slope of mud and sand the shape of half a bun； some wet and some dry； up
which we used to scramble and get into the Chine； and call the Chine what
it was in the truest sense； Fairyland。 You recollect how it was all eaten
out into mountain ranges； pinnacles； steep cliffs of white； and yellow； and
pink； standing up against the clear blue sky； till we agreed that； putting
aside the difference of size； they were as beautiful and grand as any Alps
we had ever seen in pictures。 And how we saw （for there could be no
mistake about it there） that the Chine was being hollowed out by the
springs which broke out high up the cliff； and by the rain which wore the
sand into furrowed pinnacles and peaks。 You recollect the beautiful place；
and how； when we looked back down it we saw between the miniature
mountain walls the bright blue sea； and heard it murmur on the sands
outside。 So I verily believe we might have done； if we had stood
somewhere at the bottom of this glen thousands of years ago。 We should
have seen the sea in front of us； or rather； an arm of the sea； for
Finchampstead ridges opposite； instead of being covered with farms； and
woodlands； and purple heath above； would have been steep cliffs of sand
and clay； just like those you see at Bournemouth now； andwhat would
have spoilt somewhat the beauty of the sightalong the shores there would
have floated； at least in winter； great blocks and floes of ice； such as you
might have seen in the tideway at King's Lynn the winter before last；
growling and crashing； grubbing and ploug