Down in the valley to the left of Rufus’s Stone rise the woods of the Long Beeches, and Prior’s Acre, and Daneshill or Dean’s Hell, where the word Hell (from _helan_, to cover) means nothing more than the dark place, like the Hellbecks in Yorkshire.[140] Beaten paths and walks stretch into the woods in every direction. Perhaps one of the prettiest is over Coalmeer Brook, and then through the thick beeches of Coalmeer Wood, where the honey buzzard builds, till we come to the King’s Gairn stream, where the Bracklesham Clays, teeming with fossils, may, by digging, be reached.[141] Brook Common now opens before us. At its farther end stands Brook Wood, with its fine hollies and durmast oaks (_Quercus sessiliflora_). Passing the High Beeches to our left, we reach Shepherd’s Gutter, a small stream, where the Bracklesham beds again crop out with their blue and slate-coloured clays. Going on through more woods, and then by clumps of old hollies and yews, we come to Bramble Hill. Perhaps, just above the Lodge, on the top of the hill, we gain the most extensive view of the Forest. Before us spreads one vast sea of woods, broken in the front by Malwood Ridge, and Brochis Hill, and then rolling its flood of green over Minestead Valley, and rising again wave-like, at Whitley, till lost among the moors, whilst the Isle of Wight hills seam the blue sky with their dark outlines. The village of Bramshaw, just a little way beyond, stands partly in both Hampshire and Wiltshire, and forms the Forest boundary. From its woods in former times the shingles for roofing Salisbury Cathedral were cut. Its church, although prettily situated, is scarcely worth seeing. Only an Early-English window at the east end, and an arch on the south side, remain of the old building, now defaced by every variety of modern ugliness. In the churchyard stands a fine yew; and a buttress on the north side is completely covered with the lovely common spleenwort. [Illustration: View in Puckpits.] Coming back, however, to Stoney-Cross, we will now go westward. Stoney-Cross itself consists of but a few tumbledown cottages, inhabited principally by the Forest workmen. Just beyond the last of them let us stop for a moment. To the south stretch more woods—Stonehard, with its views across the valley, to the oaks of Wick and the plain of Acres Down, looking over Rhinefield and the valley of the Osmanby Ford, beyond Wootton, to the Needle Rocks, mass upon mass of woods. To the right of it lies Puckpits, where the badger breeds, and the raven used to build, and where still on a summer morning the honey buzzard comes flying up from Mark Ash, and, circling for hours round the trees, will again fly back to its favourite haunt.