Portisham, under the bold, furzy hills that rise to the commanding height of Blackdown, appears in _The Trumpet Major_ as the village to which Bob Loveday (who was spasmodically in love with Anne Garland) comes to attach himself to Admiral Hardy for service in the Royal Navy. Notwithstanding the fact that Robert Loveday is merely an imaginary character, the admiral was a renowned hero in real life, and no less a personage than Admiral Sir Thomas Hardy. He lived here, in a picturesque old house just outside the village, and the chimney-like tower on Black Down was erected to his memory. In a garden on the opposite side of the road to Hardy's house is a sundial, inscribed: JOSEPH HARDY, ESQ. KINGSTON RUSSELL, LAT. 50° 45' 1769 FUGIO FUGE Admiral Hardy was born at Kingston Russell, and his old home at Portisham is still in the possession of a descendant on the female side. From Portisham a walk of four miles leads to Abbotsbury, situated at the verge of the Vale of Wadden and the Chesil Beach. The railway station is about ten minutes' walk from the ancient village, which consists of a few houses picturesquely dotted around the church and scattered ruins of the Abbey of St Peter. The abbey was originally founded in King Knut's reign by Arius, the "house-carl," or steward, to the king, about 1044, in the reign of Edward the Confessor. The building at the south-east corner of the church is part of the old abbey. It is now used as a carpenter's shop, but an old stoup can be seen in the corner. At the farther end of this building is a cell in which the last abbot is said to have been starved to death. A gate-house porch and a buttressed granary of fourteenth-century architecture, still used as a barn, and a pond, with a tree-covered island, the ancient fish-pond of the monks, are all that remain to remind us of the historic past of this spot. CHAPTER IX POOLE The wide expanse of Poole Harbour is a well-known haunt of sportsmen, for in the winter it is the home of innumerable wild-fowl, and for those who are fond of yachting and pottering about with boats it is large enough to test their skill and patience in controlling a craft in the wind and wave. Here we get a double tide, the second rising rather higher than the first, and when the tide is in the view is not unlike a Dutch landscape. But the ebb lays bare acres of mud-banks, which mar the prospect. However, the marine emanations from the mud-banks are said to be very salubrious. This harbour is the only haven between Southampton and Weymouth for yachting men. Inland from Poole the country is pleasantly varied by hills and heaths, through which, on the west side of the harbour, the verge of Bournemouth is reached, and an hour's walk will take the pilgrim over the Hampshire boundary.