s; but it has now been rendered quite impossible by reason of
its conversion into a glorified old curiosity shop with a heterogeneous
collection of antiques. Other delightful houses there are, too, in
this double village of Pevensey and Westham, straggling away at either
side of the castle--low, picturesque timbered dwellings, at once the
delight and despair of would-be artists. At Westham is a noble old
church, the first built by the Conqueror, with remnants of the original
Norman fabric still serving their purpose.

Striking east from the castle, the way out to Hurstmonceux lies down
through the village street, with the sea away to the right and the
marsh to the left. All along the coast here stand the Martello towers,
monuments to the hysteria of a former day. Poor Cobbett, in his _Rural
Rides_, could scarce find words bitter enough for these works. "To
think that I should be destined to behold these monuments of the wisdom
of Pitt and Dundas and Perceval! Good G--! Here they are, piles of
brick in a circular form about three hundred feet (guess) circumference
at the base, about forty feet high, and about one hundred feet
circumference at the top.... Cannons were to be fired from the top of
these things, in order to defend the country against the French
Jacobins! I think I could have counted along here upwards of thirty of
these ridiculous things, which, I dare say, cost five, perhaps ten,
thousand pounds each: and one of which was, I am told, _sold_ on the
coast of Sussex, the other day, for two hundred pounds...." Some have
now been dismantled, having been rendered useless or dangerous by the
encroachments of the sea. Here and there is to be found one providing
habitation for a fisherman or a coastguard, or let out for the purpose
of a summer residence to some more than usually enterprising
holiday-maker.

As soon as the water of Pevensey Haven is crossed, the way to
Hurstmonceux turns sharply to the north; and thence onward the road is
a perfectly flat one, winding in and out across the levels with seeming
aimlessness. Ahead, visible nearly all the way, the castle nestles
among the low hills that break sharply away from the flats, outposts of
the uplands of that same sandstone Forest Ridge which presses on
eastwards to form the cliffs beyond Hastings. On either side, away to
the distant hills, stretch the greenest of meadows, intersected by
innumerable watercourses, with but a few stunted thorns and