inder of earlier days.

Old Shoreham, a mile up the river, is notable for its wooden bridge
across the Adur to the Old Sussex Pad, at one time a famous inn for
smugglers. Few Royal Academy exhibitions are without a picture of Old
Shoreham Bridge and the quiet cruciform church at its eastward end.

[Sidenote: THE LOYAL CLERK]

A pleasant story tells how, in some Sussex journey, William IV. and his
queen chanced to be passing through Shoreham, coming from Chichester to
Lewes, one Sunday morning. The clerk of Old Shoreham church caught sight
through the window of the approaching cavalcade, and leaping to his
feet, stopped the sermon by announcing: "It is my solemn duty to inform
you that their Majesties the King and Queen are just now crossing the
bridge." Thereupon the whole congregation jumped up and ran out to show
their loyalty.

CHAPTER XX

THE DEVIL'S DYKE AND HURSTPIERPOINT

Sussex and Leith Hill--The Dyke hill--Two recollections--Bustard
hunting on the Downs--The Queen of the gipsies--The Devil in
Sussex--The feeble legend of the
Dyke--Poynings--Newtimber--Pyecombe and shepherds' crooks--A
Patcham smuggler--Wolstonbury--Danny--An old Sussex
diary--Fish-culture in the past--Thomas Marchant's Sunday
head-aches--Albourne and Bishop Juxon--Twineham and Squire
Stapley--Zoological remedies--How to make oatmeal pudding.

[Illustration: _Poynings, from the Devil's Dyke._]

Had the hill above the Devil's Dyke--for the Dyke itself wins only a
passing glance--been never popularised, thousands of Londoners, and many
of the people of Brighton, would probably never have seen the Weald from
any eminence at all. The view is bounded north and west only by hills:
on the north by the North Downs, with Leith Hill standing forward, as if
advancing to meet a southern champion, and in the west, Blackdown, Hind
Head and the Hog's Back. The patchwork of the Weald is between. The view
from the Dyke Hill, looking north, is comparable to that from Leith
Hill, looking south; and every day in fine weather there are tourists on
both of these altitudes gazing towards each other. The worst slight that
Sussex ever had to endure, so far as my reading goes, is in Hughson's
_London ... and its Neighbourhood_, 1808, where the view from Leith Hill
is described. After stating that the curious stranger on the summit
"feels sensations as we may suppose Adam to have felt when he
instantaneously burst