<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></SPAN>CHAPTER V</h2>
<h3>CHICHESTER AND THE HILLS.</h3>
<blockquote><p>Goodwood—The art of being a park—The Cenotaph of Lord
Darnley—Boxgrove—Cowper at Eastham—The Charlton Hunt—A famous
run—Huntsman and Saint—Present day hunting in Sussex—Mr. Knox's
delectable day with his gun—Kingly Bottom—The best white
violets—A demon bowler—Two epitaphs.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Chichester may have a cathedral and a history, but nine out of ten
strangers know of it only as a station for Goodwood race-course; towards
which, in that hot week at the end of July, hundreds of carriages toil
by the steep road that skirts the Duke of Richmond and Gordon's park.</p>
<p>Goodwood Park gives me little pleasure. I miss the deer; and when the
first park that one ever knew was Buxted, with its moving antlers above
the brake fern, one almost is compelled to withhold the word park from
any enclosure without them. It is impossible to lose the feeling that
the right place for cattle—even for Alderneys—is the meadow. Cows in a
park<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></SPAN></span> are a poor makeshift; parks are for deer. To my eyes Goodwood
House has a chilling exterior; the road to the hill-top is steep and
lengthy; and when one has climbed it and crossed the summit wood, it is
to come upon the last thing that one wishes to find in the heart of the
country, among rolling Downs, sacred to hawks and solitude—a Grand
Stand and the railings of a race-course! Race-courses are for the
outskirts of towns, as at Brighton and Lewes; or for hills that have no
mystery and no magic, like the heights of Epsom; or for such mockeries
of parks as Sandown and Kempton. The good park has many deer and no
race-course.</p>
<p>And yet Goodwood is superb, for it has some of the finest trees in
Sussex within its walls, including the survivors of a thousand cedars of
Lebanon planted a hundred and fifty years ago; and with every step
higher one unfolds a wider view of the Channel and the plain. Best of
these prospects is, perhaps, that gained from Carne's seat, as the
Belvedere to the left of the road to the racecourse is called; its name
deriving from an old servant of the family, whose wooden hut was
situated here when Carne died, and whose name and fame were thus
perpetuated. The stones of the building were in part those of old Hove
church, near Brighton, then lately demolished.</p>
<div class="sidenote">THE CENOTAPH OF DARNLEY</div>
<p>In Goodwood House, which is shown on regular days, are fine Vandycks and
Lelys, relics of the two Charles', and above all the fascinatingly
absorbing "Cenotaph of Lord Darnley," a series of scenes in the life of
that ill-fated husband. It may be said that among all the treasures of
Sussex there is nothing quite so interesting as this.</p>
<p class="center"><SPAN name="page041.png" id="page041.png"></SPAN><ANTIMG src="images/page041.png" width-obs='647' height-obs='700' alt="Boxgrove Priory Church" /></p>
<h4><i>Boxgrove Priory Church.</i></h4>
<div class="sidenote">BOXGROVE</div>
<p>Leaving Chichester by East Street (or Stane Street, the old Roman road
to London) one comes first to West Hampnett, famous as the birthplace,
in 1792, of Frederick William Lillywhite, the "Nonpareil" bowler, whom
we shall meet again at Brighton. A mile and a half beyond is Halnaker,
midway between two ruins, those of Halnaker House to the north and
Boxgrove Priory to the south. Of the remains<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></SPAN></span> of Halnaker House, a Tudor
mansion, once the home of the De la Warrs, little may now be seen; but
Boxgrove is still very beautiful, as Mr. Griggs' drawings prove. The
Priory dates from the reign of Henry I., when it was founded very
modestly for three Benedictine monks, a number which steadily grew.
Seven Henries later came its downfall, and now nothing remains but some
exquisite Norman arches and a few less perfect fragments. Boxgrove
church is an object of pilgrimage for antiquaries and architects, the
vaulting being peculiarly<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></SPAN></span> interesting. At the Halnaker Arms in 1902 was
a landlady whom few cooks could teach anything in the matter of pastry.</p>
<div class="sidenote">THE EARTHAM DILLETANTE</div>
<p>The next village on Stane Street, or rather a little south of it, about
two miles beyond Halnaker, is Eartham; which brings to mind William
Hayley, the friend and biographer of Cowper and the author of <i>The
Triumphs of Temper</i>, perhaps the least read of any book that once was
popular. Hayley succeeded his father as squire of Eartham; here he
entertained Cowper and other friends; here Romney painted. When need
came for retrenchment, Hayley let Eartham to Huskisson, the statesman,
and moved to Felpham, on the coast, where we shall meet with him again.
Cowper's occupations upon this charming Sussex hillside are recorded in
Hayley's account of the visit: "<i>Homer</i> was not the immediate object of
our attention while Cowper resided at Eartham. The morning hours that we
could bestow on books were chiefly devoted to a complete revisal and
correction of all the translations, which my friend had finished, from
the Latin and Italian poetry of Milton; and we generally amused
ourselves after dinner in forming together a rapid metrical version of
Andreini's <i>Adamo</i>. But the constant care which the delicate health of
Mrs. Unwin required rendered it impossible for us to be very assiduous
in study, and perhaps the best of all studies was to promote and share
that most singular and most exemplary tenderness of attention with which
Cowper incessantly laboured to counteract every infirmity, bodily and
mental, with which sickness and age had conspired to load this
interesting guardian of his afflicted life.... The air of the south
infused a little portion of fresh strength into her shattered frame, and
to give it all possible efficacy, the boy, whom I have mentioned, and a
young associate and fellow student of his, employed themselves regularly
twice a day in drawing this venerable cripple in a commodious
garden-chair round the airy hill of Eartham. To Cowper and to me it was
a very pleasing spectacle to see the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></SPAN></span> benevolent vivacity of blooming
youth thus continually labouring for the ease, health, and amusement of
disabled age."</p>
<div class="sidenote">COWPER IN SUSSEX</div>
<p>The poet and Mrs. Unwin, after much trepidation and doubt, had left
Weston Underwood on August 1, 1792; they slept at Barnet the first
night, Ripley the next, and were at Eartham by ten o'clock on the third.
They stayed till September. Cowper describes Hayley's estate as one of
the most delightful pleasure grounds in the world. "I had no conception
that a poet could be the owner of such a paradise, and his house is as
elegant as his scenes are charming." The poet, apart from his rapid
treatment of <i>Adamo</i>, did not succeed independently in attaining to
Hayley's fluency among these surroundings. "I am in truth so
unaccountably local in the use of my pen," he wrote to Lady Hesketh,
"that, like the man in the fable, who could leap well nowhere but at
Rhodes, I seem incapable of writing at all except at Weston." Hence the
only piece that he composed in our county was the epitaph on Fop, a dog
belonging to Lady Throckmorton. But while he was at Eartham Romney drew
his portrait in crayons.</p>
<p class="center"><SPAN name="page043.png" id="page043.png"></SPAN><ANTIMG src="images/page043.png" width-obs='700' height-obs='371' alt="Boxgrove from the South" /></p>
<h4><i>Boxgrove from the South.</i></h4>
<p>Cowper always looked back upon his visit with pleasure, but, as he
remarked, the genius of Weston Underwood suited<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></SPAN></span> him better—"It has an
air of snug concealment in which a disposition like mine feels itself
peculiarly gratified; whereas now I see from every window woods like
forests and hills like mountains—a wilderness, in short, that rather
increases my natural melancholy.... Accordingly, I have not looked out
for a house in Sussex, nor shall."</p>
<p>The simplest road from Chichester to the Downs is the railway. The
little train climbs laboriously to Singleton, and then descends to
Cocking and Midhurst. By leaving it at Singleton one is quickly in the
heart of this vast district of wooded hills, sometimes wholly forested,
sometimes, as in West Dean park, curiously studded with circular clumps
of trees.</p>
<div class="sidenote">THE CHARLTON HUNT</div>
<p>The most interesting spot to the east of the line is Charlton, once so
famous among sporting men, but now, alas, unknown. For Charlton was of
old a southern Melton Mowbray, the very centre of the aristocratic
hunting county. The Charlton Hunt had two palmy periods: before the Duke
of Monmouth's rebellion, and after the accession of William III.
Monmouth and Lord Grey kept two packs, the Master being Squire Roper.
With the fall of Monmouth Roper fled to France, to hunt at Chantilly,
but on the accession of William III. he returned to Sussex, the hounds
resumed their old condition, and the Charlton pack became the most
famous in the world. On the death of Mr. Roper—in the hunting field, in
1715, at the age of eighty-four—the Duke of Bolton took the Mastership,
which he held until the charms of Miss Fenton the actress (the Polly
Peachum of <i>The Beggars' Opera</i>) lured him to the tents of the women.
Then came the glorious reign of the second Duke of Richmond, when sport
with the Charlton was at its height. The Charlton Hunt declined upon his
death, in 1750, became known as the Goodwood Hunt, and wholly ceased to
be at the beginning of the last century.</p>
<p>The crowning glory of the Charlton Hunt was the run of Friday, January
26, 1738, which is thus described in an old manuscript:—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class="sidenote">A FAMOUS RUN</div>
<blockquote><p class="center">A FULL AND IMPARTIAL ACCOUNT OF THE REMARKABLE CHASE AT CHARLTON,
ON FRIDAY, 26TH JANUARY, 1738.</p>
<p>It has long been a matter of controversy in the hunting world to
what particular country or set of men the superiority belonged.
Prejudices and partiality have the greatest share in their
disputes, and every society their proper champion to assert the
pre-eminence and bring home the trophy to their own country. Even
Richmond Park has the Dymoke. But on Friday, the 26th of January,
1738, there was a decisive engagement on the plains of Sussex,
which, after ten hours' struggle, has settled all further debate
and given the brush to the gentlemen of Charlton.</p>
<p class="center">PRESENT IN THE MORNING:—</p>
<p>The Duke of Richmond, Duchess of Richmond, Duke of St Alban's, the
Lord Viscount Harcourt, the Lord Henry Beauclerk, the Lord
Ossulstone, Sir Harry Liddell, Brigadier Henry Hawley, Ralph
Jennison, master of His Majesty's Buck Hounds, Edward Pauncefort,
Esq., William Farquhar, Esq., Cornet Philip Honywood, Richard
Biddulph, Esq., Charles Biddulph, Esq., Mr. St. Paul, Mr. Johnson,
Mr. Peerman, of Chichester; Mr. Thomson, Tom Johnson, Billy Ives,
Yeoman Pricker to His Majesty's Hounds; David Briggs and Nim Ives,
Whippers-in.</p>
<p>At a quarter before eight in the morning the fox was found in
Eastdean Wood, and ran an hour in that cover; then into the Forest,
up to Puntice Coppice through Heringdean to the Marlows, up to
Coney Coppice, back to the Marlows, to the Forest West Gate, over
the fields to Nightingale Bottom, to Cobden's at Draught, up his
Pine Pit Hanger, where His Grace of St. Alban's got a fall; through
My Lady Lewknor's Puttocks, and missed the earth; through Westdean
Forest to the corner of Collar Down (where Lord Harcourt blew his
first horse), crossed the Hackney-place down the length of Coney
Coppice, through the Marlows to Heringdean, into the Forest and
Puntice Coppice, Eastdean Wood, through the Lower Teglease across
by Cocking Course down between Graffham and Woolavington, through
Mr. Orme's Park and Paddock over the Heath to Fielder's Furzes, to
the Harlands, Selham, Ambersham, through Todham Furzes, over Todham
Heath, almost to Cowdray Park, there turned to the limekiln at the
end of Cocking Causeway, through Cocking Park and Furzes; there
crossed the road and up the hills between Bepton and Cocking. Here
the unfortunate Lord Harcourt's second horse felt the effects of
long legs and a sudden steep; the best thing that belonged to him
was his saddle, which My Lord had secured; but, by bleeding and
Geneva (contrary to Act of Parliament) he recovered, and with some
difficulty was got home. Here Mr. Farquhar's humanity claims your
regard, who kindly sympathised with My Lord in his misfortunes, and
had not<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></SPAN></span> power to go beyond him. At the bottom of Cocking Warren
the hounds turned to the left across the road by the barn near
Heringdean, then took the side near to the north-gate of the Forest
(Here General Hawley thought it prudent to change his horse for a
true-blue that staid up the hills). Billy Ives likewise took a
horse of Sir Harry Liddell's, went quite through the Forest and run
the foil through Nightingale Bottom to Cobden at Draught, up his
Pine Pit Hanger to My Lady Lewknor's Puttocks, through every mews
she went in the morning; went through the Warren above Westdean
(where we dropt Sir Harry Liddell) down to Benderton Farm (here
Lord Harry sank), through Goodwood Park (here the Duke of Richmond
chose to send three lame horses back to Charlton, and took Saucy
Face and Sir William, that were luckily at Goodwood; from thence,
at a distance, Lord Harry was seen driving his horse before him to
Charlton). The hounds went out at the upper end of the Park over
Strettington-road by Sealy Coppice (where His Grace of Richmond got
a summerset), through Halnaker Park over Halnaker Hill to Seabeach
Farm (here the Master of the Stag Hounds, Cornet Honywood, Tom
Johnson, and Nim Ives were thoroughly satisfied), up Long Down,
through Eartham Common fields and Kemp's High Wood (here Billy Ives
tried his second horse and took Sir William, by which the Duke of
St. Alban's had no great coat, so returned to Charlton). From
Kemp's High Wood the hounds took away through Gunworth Warren,
Kemp's Rough Piece, over Slindon Down to Madehurst Parsonage (where
Billy came in with them), over Poor Down up to Madehurst, then down
to Houghton Forest, where His Grace of Richmond, General Hawley,
and Mr. Pauncefort came in (the latter to little purpose, for,
beyond the Ruel Hill, neither Mr. Pauncefort nor his horse Tinker
cared to go, so wisely returned to his impatient friends), up the
Ruel Hill, left Sherwood on the right hand, crossed Ofham Hill to
Southwood, from thence to South Stoke to the wall of Arundel River,
where the glorious 23 hounds put an end to the campaign, and killed
an old bitch fox, ten minutes before six. Billy Ives, His Grace of
Richmond, and General Hawley were the only persons in at the death,
to the immortal honour of 17 stone, and at least as many campaigns.</p>
</blockquote>
<div class="sidenote">JOHNSON THE EXEMPLAR</div>
<p>In Singleton church is a record of the Charlton Hunt in the shape of a
memorial to one of the huntsmen, the moral of which seems to be that we
must all be huntsmen too:—</p>
<p class="center"><br/>"Near this place lies interred<br/>
<span class="smcap">Thomas Johnson</span>,<br/>
who departed this life at Charlton,<br/>
December 20th, 1774.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></SPAN></span>"From his early inclination to fox-hounds, he soon became an experienced
huntsman. His knowledge in the profession, wherein he had no superior,
and hardly an equal, joined to his honesty in every other particular,
recommended him to the service, and gained him the approbation, of
several of the nobility and gentry. Among these were the Lord <span class="smcap">Conway</span>,
Earl of <span class="smcap">Cardigan</span>, the Lord <span class="smcap">Gower</span>, the Duke of <span class="smcap">Marlborough</span>, the Hon. M.
<span class="smcap">Spencer</span>. The last master whom he served, and in whose service he died,
was <span class="smcap">Charles</span>, Duke of <span class="smcap">Richmond</span>, <span class="smcap">Lennox</span>, and <span class="smcap">Aubigny</span>, who erected this
monument in memory of a good and faithful servant, as a reward to the
deceased, and an incitement to the living.</p>
<p>'Go, and do thou likewise.' (St. Luke, x. 37).</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<div>'Here Johnson lies; what human can deny</div>
<div>Old Honest Tom the tribute of a sigh?</div>
<div>Deaf is that ear which caught the opening sound;</div>
<div>Dumb that tongue which cheer'd the hills around.</div>
<div>Unpleasing truth: Death hunts us from our birth</div>
<div>In view, and men, like foxes, take to earth.'"</div>
</div></div>
<div class="sidenote">THE SUSSEX PACKS</div>
<p>A few words on the packs of Sussex at the present time may be
interesting in this connection. Chief is the Southdown Fox Hounds, a
very fine, fast pack brought to a high state of perfection by the late
master, the Hon. Charles Brand. They hunt the open and hill country
between the Adur and Cuckmere, between Haywards Heath and the sea. In
the north are the Crawley and Horsham Fox Hounds, which have large
woodlands, high hedges, and some stiff ploughed soil to their less easy
lot. The hounds are bigger and heavier than the South Downers. Smaller
packs are Lord Leconfield's Fox Hounds, which have the Charlton country;
the Eastbourne Fox Hounds, to which the East Sussex Fox Hounds allotted
a share of the western part of their country east of the Cuckmere; and
the Burstow and Eridge packs. Of Harriers, the best are the Brighton
Harriers, so long hunted by Mr. Hugh Gorringe of Kingston-by-Sea, a very
smart pack lately covering<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></SPAN></span> the ground between the Adur and Falmer, and
now adding the Brookside Harriers' country to their own domain, the two
packs having been amalgamated. In the east are the Bexhill Harriers and
the Hailsham Harriers; and in the west the South Coast Harriers, for the
Chichester country. Sussex, in addition to possessing the Warnham
Staghounds, is much raided by the Surrey Staghounds. The Crowhurst Otter
Hounds also visit the Sussex streams now and then. Foot Beagles may be
numerous but I know only of the Brighton pack.</p>
<div class="sidenote">MR. KNOX'S SETTER</div>
<p>And here let me give Mr. Knox's description of a day's shooting, in the
gentlemanly way, on the Sussex Downs, following, in his <i>Ornithological
Rambles</i>, upon some remarks on the battue. "How different is the pursuit
of the pheasant with the aid of spaniels in the thick covers of the
weald, or tracking him with a single setter among some of the wilder
portions of the forest range!—intently observing your dog and
anticipating the wily artifices of some old cock, with spurs as long as
a dragon's, who will sometimes lead you for a mile through bog, brake,
fern, and heather, before the sudden drop of your staunch companion, and
a rigidity in all his limbs, satisfy you that you have at last compelled
the bird to squat under that wide holly-bush, from whence you kick him
up, and feel some little exultation as you bring him down with a
snap-shot, having only caught a glimpse of him through the evergreen
boughs, as he endeavoured to escape by a rapid flight at the opposite
side of the tree.</p>
<div class="sidenote">A SUSSEX BAG</div>
<p>"And then the woodcock-shooting in November—I must take you back once
more to my favourite Downs. With the first full moon during that month,
especially if the wind be easterly or the weather calm, arrive flights
of woodcocks, which drop in the covers, and are dispersed among the
bushy valleys, and even over the heathery summits of the hills. If it
should happen to be a propitious year for beech-mast—the great
attraction to pheasants on the Downs, as is the acorn in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></SPAN></span> weald—you
may procure partridges, pheasants, hares, and rabbits in perhaps equal
proportions, with half a dozen woodcocks to crown the bag.</p>
<p class="center"><SPAN name="page049.png" id="page049.png"></SPAN><ANTIMG src="images/page049.png" width-obs='700' height-obs='618' alt="East Lavant" /></p>
<h4><i>East Lavant.</i></h4>
<p>"The extensive, undulating commons and heaths dotted with broken patches
of Scotch firs and hollies on the ferruginous sand north of the Downs,
afford—where the manorial rights are enforced—still greater variety of
sport. On this wild ground, accompanied by my spaniels and an old
retriever, and attended only by one man, to carry the game, I have
enjoyed as good sport as mortal need desire on this side of the Tweed.
Here is a rough sketch of a morning's work.</p>
<div class="sidenote">PARTRIDGE AND WOODCOCK</div>
<p>"Commencing operations by walking across a turnip-field, two or three
coveys spring wildly from the farther end, and fly, as I expect, to the
adjoining common, where they are marked<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></SPAN></span> down on a brow thickly clothed
with furze. Marching towards them with spaniels at heel, up jumps a hare
under my nose, then another, then a rabbit. I reload rapidly, and on
reaching the gorse 'put in' the dogs. Whirr! there goes a partridge! The
spaniels drop to the report of my gun, but the fluttering wings of the
dying bird rouse two of his neighbours before I am ready, and away they
fly, screaming loudly. The remainder are flushed in detail and I succeed
in securing the greater part of them. Now for the next covey. They were
marked down in that little hollow where the heather is longer than
usual—a beautiful spot! But before I reach it, up they all spring in an
unexpected quarter; that cunning old patriarch at their head had
cleverly called them together to a naked part of the hill from whence he
could observe my manœuvres, and a random shot sent after him with
hearty good will proved totally ineffective.</p>
<p>"Now the spaniels are worming through the thick sedges on either side of
the brook which intersects the moor, and by their bustling anxiety it is
easy to see that game is afoot. Keeping well in front of them, I am just
in time for a satisfactory right and left at two cock pheasants, which
they had hunted down to the very edge of the water before they could
persuade them to take wing. Now for that little alder coppice at the
further end of the marshy swamp. Hark to that whipping sound so
different from the rush of the rising pheasant or the drumming flight of
the partridge! I cannot see the bird, but I know it is a woodcock. This
must be one of his favourite haunts, for I perceive the tracks of his
feet and the perforations of his bill in every direction on the black
mud around. Mark! again. A second is sprung, and as he flits between the
naked alders a snap-shot stops his career. I now emerge at the farther
end, just where the trees are thinner than elsewhere. A wisp of snipes
utter their well-known cry and scud over the heath; one of these is
secured. The rest fly towards a little pool of dark water lying at a
considerable<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></SPAN></span> distance from the common, a well-known rendezvous for
those birds. Cautiously approaching, down wind, I reach the margin. Up
springs a snipe; but just as my finger is on the trigger, and when too
late to alter my intention, a duck and mallard rise from among the
rushes and wheel round my head. One barrel is fortunately left, and the
drake comes tumbling to the ground. Three or four pheasants, another
couple of woodcocks, a few more snipes, a teal or two, and half a dozen
rabbits picked up at various intervals, complete the day's sport, and I
return home, better pleased with myself and my dogs than if we had
compassed the destruction of all the hares in the county, or assisted at
the immolation of a perfect hecatomb of pheasants."</p>
<div class="sidenote">KINGLY BOTTOM</div>
<p>Kingly Bottom is the most interesting spot to the west of Singleton. One
may reach it either through Chilgrove, or by walking back towards
Chichester as far as Binderton House, turning then to the right and
walking due west for a couple of miles. Report says that the yews in
Kingly Bottom, or Kingly Vale, mark a victory of Chichester men over a
party of marauding Danes in 900, and that the dead were buried beneath
the barrows on the hill. The story ought to be true. The vale is
remarkable for its grove of yews, some of enormous girth, which extends
along the bottom to the foot of the escarpment. The charge that might be
brought against Sussex, that it lacks sombre scenery and the elements of
dark romance, that its character is too open and transparent, would be
urged to no purpose in Kingly Vale, which, always grave and silent, is
transformed at dusk into a sinister and fantastic forest, a home for
witchcraft and unquiet spirits.</p>
<p>So it seems to me; but among the verses of Bernard Barton, the Quaker
poet and the friend of Charles Lamb, I lately chanced upon a sonnet
"written on hearing it remarked that the scenery [of Kingly Bottom] was
too gloomy to be termed beautiful; and that it was also associated with
dolorous recollections of Druidical sacrifices." In this poem Barton<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></SPAN></span>
takes a surprisingly novel line. "Nay, nay, it is not gloomy" he begins,
and the end is thus:—</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<div>Nor fancy Druid rites have left a stain</div>
<div class="i1">Upon its gentle beauties:—loiter there</div>
<div class="i1">In a calm summer night, confess how fair</div>
<div>Its moonlight charms, and thou wilt learn how vain</div>
<div>And transitory Superstition's reign</div>
<div class="i1">Over a spot which gladsome thoughts may share.</div>
</div></div>
<p>The ordinary person, not a poet, would, I fear, prefer to think of
Kingly Bottom's Druidical past.</p>
<div class="sidenote">THE MARDEN VIOLETS</div>
<p>The last time I was in Kingly Bottom—it was in April—after leaving the
barrows on the summit of the Bow Hill, above the Vale, I walked by
devious ways to East Marden, between banks thick with the whitest and
sweetest of sweet white violets. East Marden, however, has no inn and is
therefore not the best friend of the traveller; but it has the most
modest and least ecclesiastical-looking church in the world, and by
seeking it out I learned two secrets: the finest place for white violets
and the finest place to keep a horse. There is no riding country to
excel this hill district between Singleton and the Hampshire border.</p>
<p>At the neighbouring village of Stoughton, whither I meant to walk (since
an inn is there) was born, in 1783, the terrible George Brown—Brown of
Brighton—the fast bowler, whose arm was as thick as an ordinary man's
thigh. He had two long stops, one of whom padded his chest with straw. A
long stop once held his coat before one of Brown's balls, but the ball
went through it and killed a dog on the other side. Brown could throw a
4½ oz. ball 137 yards, and he was the father of seventeen children.
He died at Sompting in 1857.</p>
<div class="sidenote">CHURCHYARD POETRY</div>
<p>Of Racton, on the Hampshire border, and its association with Charles
II., I have already spoken. Below, it is Westbourne, a small border
village in whose churchyard are two pleasing epitaphs. Of Jane, wife of
Thomas Curtis, who died in 1719, it is written:—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<div>She was like a lily fresh and green,</div>
<div>Soon cast down and no more seen.</div>
</div></div>
<p>and of John Cook:</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<div>Pope said an honest man</div>
<div>Is the noblest work of God.</div>
<div>If Pope's assertion be from error clear,</div>
<div>One of God's noblest works lies buried here.</div>
</div></div>
<hr />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></SPAN></span></p>
<p class="center"><SPAN name="page054.png" id="page054.png"></SPAN><ANTIMG src="images/page054.png" width-obs='700' height-obs='506' alt="Bosham" /></p>
<h4><i>Bosham.</i></h4>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
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