The circuit of its extent was marked out with flags. The officers of the Board of Works and local authorities were to perambulate it. But the free atmosphere of the vagrant Heath seemed to resent the intended formalities, and a downpour of rain put an end to the whole programme. Flags and bands and festive company were out of the question, and the ceremony consisted of a few officials and other gentlemen in close carriages making the partial circuit of the Heath, pausing at certain points where alterations and amendments were to be made, but eventually taking the shortest road to the Flagstaff and Jack Straw’s Castle, where the Vestry were about to entertain the officers of the Board of Works, the local authorities, and other guests at a handsome déjeûner. At the Flagstaff Colonel Hogg, in a brief but graceful speech, proclaimed the fact that Hampstead Heath was dedicated to the free use and recreation of the people for ever, and expressed a hope that it would prove that blessing which had been so long and fondly desired by the great Metropolitan community, the spirit of which speech, no doubt, the hearts of all present echoed. Having thus far traced the story of this loveliest of London suburbs, we, too, rejoice that its wide views on three sides can never be impeded, but that, as in the days of Defoe, visitors to the Heath may on a clear day distinguish in the north-west Hanslip steeple, which is only eight miles distant from Northampton, and see the Langden Hills in Essex to the east—objects which lie at least sixty-six miles apart. Then there is the prospect of London, and beyond to Banstead Downs, Shooter’s Hill, and Redhill; while on the west the view is uninterrupted to Windsor Castle. But to the north topographers tell us we can see no further than Barnet, which is only six miles distant. But, unfortunately, there were other troubles to be encountered. The Board of Works were privileged to make grants of some portions of the Heath, a privilege that resolved itself into helping certain influential individuals to enclose some of the loveliest and most interesting portions of it into their own premises. The angle of ground on which stood the famous group of trees, the Nine Elms, was made over to the late Lord Mansfield, with what result we all know. Another gentleman, before a voice could be raised against it, was allowed to enclose the loveliest bit of North End, known for generations as the Lovers’ Walk, in his demesne. And just when a third claimant was bargaining for the historic grove of trees called the Judge’s Walk, the remnant of which recalls a memorable fact, not only in the history of Hampstead, but of England,[307] Mr. Le Breton, who had fortunately heard of the transaction, was enabled to interfere and frustrate it.