And now the land is happy in having little history to record. A generation comes and goes, and all the time Rome is building up her government, carrying out her great military works, and bowing the neck of the enfeebled Briton to her yoke. What, you ask, is the appearance of Britain during the long years when the Roman peace has settled down on the land? Let us suppose that we are suddenly planted down in the island during the period Britain is part and parcel of the Roman Empire. Our first impression is that a great change has taken place in the appearance of the country. In many places the dense woods have disappeared; broad fields have been carved out of the forests, and are being carefully tilled by gangs of British slaves. Britain has become one of the great granaries of the Empire. Cattle and sheep by the hundred feed on the hillsides; and in Rome they speak of this land as _Britannia Felix_, “Britain the Happy.” With the disappearance of the forests the weather has improved. No longer is the island wrapped in steaming mists; no longer is the sky always clouded. Many of the rivers which formerly lost themselves in reedy marshes are carefully banked in, and now flow on as broad, fair streams. The morasses are crossed by causeways, the fens are drained, the rivers are bridged, the fords are easy, and the Britons loudly complain that their hands and bodies are worn out in the toilsome work. Look at the road beneath your feet. Broad and straight, it runs over hill and valley, across stream and moor and bog. British labourers, under the eye of Roman road-engineers—never surpassed before or since—have dug down to the rocky crust, and upon this have built three or four layers of squared or broken stones mixed with gravel, lime, and clay. The upper surface is closely paved, especially in the middle, with large flag-stones. This is one of the military highways, all spreading out, as our modern railways do, from London, and enabling the legions to pass with speed through the length and breadth of the province. Watling Street, Fosse Way, Hermen Street, Ikenild Street—the chief military roads of the island—may still be traced, and in parts are used to-day. While we are examining the road, we hear the tramp of armed men, and a legion swings by. Swarthy Italian, yellow-haired German, and dusky Moor march side by side armed with brazen shield, heavy javelin, and short, thick sword. In the midst is the glittering “eagle,” which the Roman would rather die than yield to a foe.