Something too we may learn at Bethersden of the true nature of the
Weald. I shall have something to say of this later, but here at any
rate the curiously difficult character of this country in regard to
the going may be understood, though of course less easily now than of
old. It is said that before, at the end of the eighteenth century,
the excellent system of roads we still use was built up, the ways
hereabouts were so bad--they are still far from good--that when spring
came it was customary to plough them up in order that they might dry
off. We hear of great ladies going to church in carriages drawn by
teams of oxen. Hardly passable after rain, the roads, says Hasted,
were "so miry that the traveller's horse frequently plunged through
them up to the girths of the saddle; and the waggons sank so deep in
the ruts as to slide along on the nave of the wheels and axle of
them. In some few of the principal roads, as from Tenterden hither,
there was a stone causeway, about three feet wide, for the
accommodation of horse and foot passengers; but there was none further
on till near Bethersden, to the great distress of travellers.
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