Andover is (not to be questioned) the _Andaoreon_ of Ravennas: the name signifies the watery habitation; _annedh_, habitatio; _dur_, aqua. It stands on the slope of a hill just by the springs of the river Tees, or _t’isca_: they arise here northward of the town very plentiful, and are carried in a thousand rills through all the meadows, till they unite and pass under the bridge. The church is an aukward old building; the west door, of an ancient circular make. They are now pulling down the timber market-house to build a new one of stone: the market-place is a broad street. Upon a very high hill to the south-west is a large Roman camp, seeming to be admirably well fortified: it is called Bury hill. Between this and Stockbridge is Dunbury hill, a circular camp, doubly intrenched with various works at the entrance. I travelled along a fine downy country, ’till passing the river Bourn in Wiltshire I came to the Icening-street near Haradon hill; where I intended to observe the great eclipse of the sun, which was to be on the next day; of which memorable _phænomenon_ I judge it will not be disagreeable if I repeat what I wrote of it. To Dr. _Edmund Halley_. According to my promise, I send you what I observed of the solar eclipse, though I fear it will not be of any great use to you. I was not prepared with any instruments for measuring time, or the like, and proposed to myself only to watch all the appearances that Nature would present to the naked eye on so remarkable an occasion, and which generally are overlooked, or but grosly regarded. I chose for my station a place called Haradon hill, two miles eastward from Amsbury, and full east from the opening of Stonehenge avenue, to which it is as the point of view. Before me lay the vast plain where that celebrated work stands, and I knew that the eclipse would appear directly over it: beside, I had the advantage of a very extensive prospect every way, this being the highest hill hereabouts, and nearest the middle of the shadow. Full west of me, and beyond Stonehenge, is a pretty copped hill, like the top of a cone lifting itself above the horizon: this is Clay hill, near Warminster, twenty miles distant, and near the central line of darkness, which must come from thence; so that I could have notice enough before-hand of its approach. Abraham Sturgis and Stephen Ewens, both of this place and sensible men, were with me. Though it was very cloudy, yet now and then we had gleams of sun-shine, rather more than I could perceive at any other place around us. These two persons looking through smoaked glasses, while I was taking some bearings of the country with a circumferentor, both confidently affirmed the eclipse was begun; when by my watch I found it just half an hour after five: and accordingly from thence the progress of it was visible, and very often to the naked eye; the thin clouds doing the office of glasses. From the time of the sun’s body being half covered, there was