Cinque Ports. At the Conquest it was a very prosperous place. In its time of highest glory it is said to have been divided into twelve wards; and to have contained five parish churches, a priory, and some other religious establishments. Its haven was formed by the estuary of the Rother, but in the reign of Edward I. it became stopped up, and the river forsook its ancient bed, and carved out for itself another channel to the sea. The harbour filled with beach, and the town went rapidly to decay. Yet the memory, at least, of ancient consequence remained to our own day. Not only had it mayor, and barons, and jurats, with all their attendant insignia and paraphernalia, but it also sent two representatives to the Imperial Parliament. But, alas! Parliamentary Reform Bills swept away both its members, and by Municipal Reform it was shorn of the better part of its corporate splendour; and now it lies low in the dust, with only the recollection of its ancient wealth and beauty to comfort it.

Romney Church is a very handsome pile. It was probably erected towards the end of the twelfth century, when the town was in its most flourishing condition, and it must, in its perfect state, have been a very splendid and costly structure. The tower is one of the very finest and richest examples, in these parts, of the later Norman architecture. The interior is also very admirable, though it has suffered more than the tower from the rough hand of Time. It has been recently repaired, and partly restored. It must not, from what we have said, be supposed, that Romney has only one street-that we spoke of is the principal street, but there are several minor ones, which have a few old houses about them. But we have staid long enough at New Romney.

to another broad common; there are others, that run hither and thither, no one can tell where or wherefore. The houses, especially the older ones, are such as a man above Tom Thumb's stature must stoop to enter, though-except a few of the tarry-at-home women, who seem to have adapted their growth to the height of their doorways-the people are a stalwart race.

This appears to be a part of the coast from which the sea has receded most rapidly, and Lydd was no doubt once within a not inconvenient distance from the shore. It was early made a corporate member of the Cinque Port of Romney, and was governed by mayor, and jurats, and barons. Within any moderate period it does not appear to have had any legitimate trade, except that of fishing. Yet, until lately, it has been a populous place, and there used to be no complaint of its poverty. Though in so entirely sequestered a situation, it still has a larger population than Romney; but now, little can be said of its affluence. The truth is, Lydd was a nest of smugglers. The coast was a most convenient one for landing goods, and the Marsh, especially towards Rye, afforded, to those acquainted with it, the greatest facilities for carrying off the lading. The traffic was constant, and conducted in the most systematic and business-like manner. All here were in some way concerned in the trade, not to speak of those who had a share in the venture. When a boat was expected, half the able men in the place would turn An old hand at it-one, whose house on the Marsh was for half a century a place of rendezvous, but who has mended his ways, though he sometimes looks back after the brandy-tubs of 'Bullen,' and is ready to murmur,-assures us that he had frequently two hundred or more out at a time arter tubs.' The temptation to turn out was considerable; for, besides the excitement of the thing, the payment to each man was seven shillings if they worked a boat,' i. e., succeeded in getting the cargo ashore; and three shillings and sixpence if they did not: and they were often able to land two boat-loads in a night. While this was the rate of payment, there would be little difficulty in finding willing hands. But, when the government adopted more vigorous measures for the suppression of smuggling, a great change came over the system. The

out.

LYDD.

Why Lydd was placed where we find it, seems, at first sight, rather difficult to guess. It lies in a broad open plain, far out of the way of any line of road; some three or four miles from the sea; and just on the margin of a strange wild tract of bare shingle. Exactly what the place was intended for is another problem, which requires some consideration before attempting its solution. Its appearance is that of a number of streets and odd houses, flung down at random among green fields. There is a principal street, that runs in a not very devious line from one broad common

sures. The men employed of a night were obliged to be provided with heavy clubs (or bats,' whence they were called 'batsmen,') and sometimes a gang of batsmen were hired, to guard those who landed and carried the cargo. Desperate fights often occurred with the Blockade;' and at length, fire-arms came to be commonly carried, and were sometimes used. The smugglers became a more reckless and brutalized race. Their skill and boldness degenerated into ferocity and cunning; and they no longer maintained the old feeling of honour and honesty among themselves. The owners of the goods often got cheated, and often informed against; and at length, all who had capital to lose became convinced that, with the greatly increased watchfulness and consequent risk on the one hand,

and the absence of trustworthiness on the other as well as the increased charge and diminished profitsthe trade was no longer a safe or a profitable one. The men of Lydd, meanwhile, who, whether as dealers, or helpers, or mere participants in the general prosperity, looked to smuggling for their subsistence, had fallen into expensive and irregular habits, and few having been careful of their gains, they became for the greater part reduced to comparative indigence. The old smugglers have, ere this, mostly died off, but some are lingering on through an old age of hopeless poverty; while, it is to be feared, an ill legacy remains to their successors. Smuggling is not wholly suppressed here, but only to a slight extent and on a small scale is it carried on; but the town is ruined.

Yet now, in its decayed state, out of the world as it were, this old town has some attractions for those who like to tread sometimes a little aside from the high road of life. To the diligent observer, old habits would unfold themselves, quaint characters might be found, queer old stories might be picked up, and some novel ways of life might perhaps be witnessed. The houses and cottages about the skirts of the town have a crazy picturesqueness, that sometimes relishes of those in old Dutch or Flemish etchings. There is plenteous materiel for the essay writer.

The Church, we need hardly say, will be examined by the visitor. Any one who has been on Romney Marsh will have noticed the tall tower of Lydd Church, with the pinnacles at its angles. It is a landmark for miles, in every direction. You may see it even, from the streets of Rye. This church belonged to the Monks of Tintern Abbey, on the Wye, till the suppression of monasteries. It is of what is called the perpendicular style. The tower is the handsomest part. Quite recently, the interior of the tower has had the whitewash and plaster scrubbed off it, and now shows something of its original character. A highgroined roof is supported by very tall and slender pillars, of the dark Sussex marble, and, as the design is a very good one, the effect of the black pillars is excellent. Much must not be said for the body of the church, but it is very large, and has a good deal that will be found interesting to one who has time to examine it in detail. It has been strangely disfigured by pewings, and patchings, and plasterings. There are some brasses and monuments worth noticing. One of the latter is of a cross-legged knight, in chain armour. This statue, like most of these statues, has had its nose knocked off, and been otherwise damaged; and, by way of making it look decent, it has been-not whitewashed but blackleaded! We say it has been, for it is just possible that the good clerk, who seemed to be rather dismayed at our irreverent laughter at the blackening of this knight of the rueful countenance, may have taken the matter to heart, and tried how whitening it would look.

This clerk, by the way, will show the church, and we are glad to recommend him to the visitor. He is a lively, obliging sort of a person, well informed as to

the history and contents of the church, and will be found deserving of the stranger's shilling (or half-crown, if he prefers it). But if you want to secure his services, you must call upon him at the right time; for, like his betters, - is a bit of a pluralist, and, unlike some of them, does duty in many places. Not only does he assist at naming, and wiving, and burying his neighbours,-intone the responses, and add a strong tenor to the psalmody, but he is also postmaster and postman of the good town and corporation; moreover, he carries the letter-bags, (and parcels too, when he can find any to carry,) twice a-day to Romney and back on foot; -and finally, fills up his spare hours by making or mending the "coriaceous integuments" of his fellow-citizens; by all which means, with the help of good management and a cheerful temper, he is able to fledge a well-filled quiver, and support a blind brother. This poor boy lost his sight during a long sickness, which also enfeebled him too much for labour; and, by way of ameliorating his condition, his friends procured for him some musical instruments. These he has taught himself to play a few tunes upon; and now, daily, does he take his place at the door of the little shop that is dignified as the POST-OFFICE, Somewhile before the postmaster is wont to depart on his afternoon journey. Three or four tunes on the cornet give notice to the town that the post-hour has arrived; and just as the church bell tells six, her Majesty's representative sallies forth in state, with his bags across his shoulder, and wends his way to the loyal and inspiriting melody of God save the Queen!'

DUNGENESS.

Lydd is an out-of-the-world place, but we are now to visit a far wilder spot-Dungeness (or as it used to be written, though not pronounced, Dengeness), a cape, or headland, of some six square miles, entirely covered with shingle. The only buildings on it are the lighthouse at its extremity, and the batteries, which are now occupied by the coast-guard. Very singular is the appearance of the land on passing from Lydd: flaț dreary fields for the first two miles, when you come upon a couple of farm-houses, that seem placed where they stand in order to mark the confines of vegetation, No sooner have you passed through the gate, than you enter upon the loose shingle. Just here is a stagnant piece of boggy water, which the natives call 'The Colicker'-a name of pleasant sound and suggestion. Onwards all is a dry sterile waste of loose pebbles, ranged in wave-like furrows. When you reach the lighthouse, the wide bay on either side, and the unbounded ocean in front, with the many vessels of all sizes sprinkled over the whole space, produce a most powerful impression. It would amply repay the toil you have undergone, were there not also the gratification that arises from examining the very remark-able spot you are upon.

Dungeness is perhaps the most remarkable place of its kind that is known. It is a broad shingle waste,