London Road.--Trumpington, Church, Brass, Chaucer's Mill, Byron's Pool, Upper River.--Grantchester, Church.--Cam and Granta.--The Shelfords.--Sawston, Old-world Industries, Hall, Hiding-Hole, "Little John."--Whittlesford, Old Hospital.--Duxford.--Triplow Heath, Civil War.--Fowlmere, Hinxton, Sacring Bell.--Ickleton, Monolith Pillars.--Chesterford.--Icknield Way.--Saffron Walden. Due south from Cambridge goes the great London Road, a name now practically supplanted by the local designation of Trumpington Road. Trumpington, two miles out, is already joined to Cambridge by a string of suburban villas; but these are only on one side of the road, while the other is a continuous line of nightingale-haunted elms, not even the stench and dust of the motorist having availed to drive away those fearless songsters. In leaving the Town the road starts along Hobson's Conduit, passing the Botanic Gardens, and crosses Vicar's Brook at the historic milestone already described on page 160, the first to be set up in England since the days of the Romans. Trumpington Church shares with Salisbury Cathedral the distinction of being built wholly in the Early English style at its best; and it has what is, perhaps, the best-known brass in England, that of Sir Roger de Trumpington, one of the crusading comrades of Edward the First. The knight is in full panoply of chain-armour, with steel epaulettes (or ailettes as they were then called) protecting his shoulders. His helmet is secured by a chain to his girdle, an unusual precaution, and his large concave shield is charged with his punning arms, two golden trumpets. From the Church an alluring hollow lane winds down to a flat green island meadow (once a swamp, and still often flooded) between two branches of the Cam, dividing Trumpington from the sister village of Grantchester. On the Grantchester side of this island we come to a mill, with a specially delicious mill-pool below it, overhung by a wreath of foliage, chiefly chestnut. This is the representative of the mill immortalised by Chaucer, in the Canterbury Tale which describes so picturesquely the somewhat unsavoury adventures of the Cambridge "clerks": At Trompyngtoun, nat far fro Cantebrigge, There goth a brook, and over that a brigge, Upon the whiche brook ther stant a melle, And this is verray sothe that I you telle.