The old Abbey wood is full of shadows and is the kind of place that one would write down as immemorially old, barren and sinister. The singular impressiveness of its ivy-grown walls, shadowed by heavy masses of foliage, depresses one dreadfully. The straight footpaths beneath the trees have been worn into deep tracks by the attrition of feet for many centuries. Under the trees are the fish-ponds which played such an important part in provisioning the monks' larder. They are so concealed from the daylight that they take on a shining jet-black surface. A book might be written about the place--a book of terrible and fateful ghost tales. CHAPTER VIII ROUND AND ABOUT WEYMOUTH I walk in the world's great highways, In the dusty glare and riot, But my heart is in the byways That thread across the quiet; By the wild flowers in the coppice, There the track like a sleep goes past, And paven with peace and poppies, Comes down to the sea at last. E. G. BUCKERIDGE. Modern Weymouth is made up of two distinct townships, Weymouth and Melcombe Regis, which were formerly separate boroughs, with their own parliamentary representatives. Of the two Weymouth is probably the older, but Melcombe can be traced well-nigh back to the Conquest; and now, although it is the name of Weymouth that has obtained the prominence, it is to Melcombe that it is commonly applied. Many visitors to Weymouth never really enter the real, ancient Weymouth, now chiefly concerned in the brewing of Dorset ale. The pier, town, railway station and residences are all in Melcombe Regis. The local conditions are something more than peculiar. The little River Wey has an estuary altogether out of proportion to its tiny stream, called the Blackwater. The true original Weymouth stands on the right bank of the estuary at its entrance into Weymouth Bay. Across the mouth of the estuary, leaving a narrow channel only open, stretches a narrow spit of land, on which stands Melcombe. The Blackwater has thus a lake-like character, and its continuation to the sea, the harbour, may be likened to a canal. The local annals of the kingdom can hardly furnish such another instance of jealous rivalry as the strife between the two boroughs. Barely a stone's-throw apart, they were the most quarrelsome of neighbours, and for centuries lived the most persistent "cat and dog" life. Whatever was advanced by one community was certain to be opposed by the other, and not even German and English hated each other with a more perfect hatred than did the burgesses of Weymouth and Melcombe Regis. As they would not live happy single, it was resolved to try what married life would do, and so in 1571 the two corporations were rolled into one, the only vestige of the old days retained being the power of electing four members to Parliament from the joint municipality--a right which was exercised until 1832.