Down beyond Pulham, seven miles south-west of Sturminster Newton, on a flat and dismal road, stands at the King's Stag Bridge across the River Lidden an inn called "King's Stag," with a signboard representing a stag with a ring round its neck, and the following lines below:-- "When Julius Cæsar reigned here, I was then but a little deer; When Julius Cæsar reigned king, Upon my neck he placed this ring, That whoso me might overtake Should spare my life for Cæsar's sake." The belief in the longevity of the stag prevails in most countries. Linnæus (_Regnum Animale_) says of the _Cervus Elaphus_: "Ætas Bovis tantum; fabula est longævitatis cervi." From a formula, as old as the hills, relating to the length of life of animals and trees we learn that-- "Three old dogs make one horse; three old horses make one old man; three old men, one old red deer; three old red deer, one old oak; three old oaks, one brent-fir [fir or pine dug out of bogs]." If a dog be supposed to be old at eight years, this will give: horse, 24; man, 72; deer, 216; oak, 648; bog fir, or brent fir, 1944 years. The proverbs which follow are not folk-sayings, but they are given a place here as being quaint and curious, and not devoid of a certain interest, as they were collected by the author while tramping in the Vale of Blackmore during the summer of 1921:-- "When the gorse is out of blossom, kissing is out of fashion" (_i.e._ kissing is _never_ out of fashion). "Trouble ran off him like water off a duck's back." "If you sing before breakfast, you'll cry before night." "Turn your money when you hear the cuckoo, and you'll have money in your purse till the cuckoo comes again." "Plenty of lady-birds, plenty of hops." (The _coccinella_ feeds upon the _aphis_ that proves so destructive to the hop-plant.) "March, search; April, try; May will prove if you live or die." "When your salt is damp, you will soon have rain." "It will be a wet month when there are two full moons in it." Certainly the maidens of Blackmore have a benediction upon them, granted them for their homeliness and kindness. Their eyes are quiet and yet fearless, and all the maids have something wifely about them. William Barnes, the poet of the Dorset valley, praising the Blackmoor maidens, says: "Why, if a man would wive An' thrive 'ithout a dow'r, Then let en look en out a wife In Blackmore by the Stour." William Barnes was not a wild wooer, and he found joy and adventure in a smile and a blush from a Blackmore milkmaid after having carried her pail, and he was satisfied to know that she would have bowed when she took it back had it not been too heavy. Perhaps--O dizzy fancy!--sweet Nan of the Vale would not have refused a little kiss! At all events Barnes knew womanhood in its perfection when he met with it--the maid who was "good and true and fair" was his preference. CHAPTER IV BLANDFORD TO DORCHESTER