d the
most imposing girls' school in the kingdom, Ovingdean is reached, one of
the nestling homesteads of the Downs. It is chiefly known as providing
Harrison Ainsworth with the very pretty title of one of his stories,
_Ovingdean Grange_. The gallant novelist, however, was a poor historian
in this book, for Charles the Second, as we have seen, never set foot
east of Brighton on the occasion of his journey of escape over the
Sussex Downs. The legend that lodges him at Ovingdean, although one can
understand how Ovingdean must cherish it, cannot stand. (Mock Beggars'
Hall, in the same romance, is Southover Grange at Lewes.)

Peace hath her victories no less renowned than war. Ovingdean is famous
not only for its false association with Charles the Second but as the
burial place of Thomas Pelling, an old-time Vicar, "the first person who
introduced Mangul Wurzel into England."

[Sidenote: ROTTINGDEAN]

Rottingdean to-day must be very much of the size of Brighton two
centuries ago, before fashion came upon it; but the little village is
hardly likely ever to creep over its surrounding hills in the same way.
The past few years, however, have seen its growth from an obscure and
inaccessible settlement to a shrine. It is only of quite recent date
that a glimpse of Rottingdean has become almost as necessary to the
Brighton visitor as the journey to the Dyke. Had the Legend of the Briar
Rose never been painted; had Mulvaney, Ortheris and Learoyd remained
unchronicled and the British soldier escaped the label "Absent-minded
Beggar," Rottingdean might still be invaded only occasionally; for it
was when, following Sir Edward Burne-Jones, Mr. Rudyard Kipling found
the little white village good to make a home in, that its public life
began. Although Mr. Kipling has now gone farther into the depths of the
county, and the great draughtsman, some of whose stained glass designs
are in the church, is no more, the habit of riding to Rottingdean is
likely, however, to persist in Brighton. The village is quaint and
simple (particularly so after the last 'bus is stabled), but it is
valuable rather as the key to some of the finest solitudes of the Downs,
in the great uninhabited hill district between the Race Course at
Brighton and Newhaven, between Lewes and the sea, than for any merits of
its own. One other claim has it, however, on the notice of the pilgrim:
William Black lies in the churchyard.

[Sidenote: "BLUE GOODNESS OF THE WEALD"]