him; Major
Audley, one of Livesey's officers, was moved out from Hounslow, where he
had three troops, to clear Banstead Downs. Audley reached Reigate first,
and engaged Lord Holland, but found him too strong: he drew off, and
Holland, for no soldier's reason, fell back on Dorking. He came on again
to Reigate next day, but by that time Livesey and Audley had joined, and
when Holland knew who was before him he turned again for Kingston. As we
saw, his horse faced the Parliament's troops on Kingston Common, and he
died without glory on the scaffold.

Not much remains even of the Reigate which Lord Holland's troops saw on
that luckless July day in 1648. The Parliament tumbled the old castle in
ruins, and as at Bletchingley, anybody who wanted to build a house or a
barn helped himself from the stones. To-day the steadiest modern
business fills the High Street and Bell Street, the two roads running
west and south along which old Reigate lay. Here and there the quaint
slope of a red roof, or the lichen on weather-worn tiles, has a hold on
the past, and in Slip Shoe Street, itself echoing the days of
pilgrimages, care and good paint have preserved the beams of delightful
old cottages. The Swan Inn, which may have liquored Holland's
cavaliers, has borne much from later builders, but it stands on the old
site. Nearly all the rest of old Reigate has gone. The Red Cross Inn,
where thirsty pilgrims dropping down from the chalk highway drank ale
and rested, has made way for brand-new brick and rough-cast, painted a
bright pink. The market which the pilgrims used to find at the western
end of the town was moved to the centre cross-roads at the Reformation,
and the little chapel at the cross-roads, where the pilgrims said their
Aves, came down in George the First's day to make room for what is now
called the old Town Hall. It is only two hundred years old, but even it
is not as its Georgian builder left it.

[Illustration: _Reigate Heath._]

What happened to Reigate Church in the early part of the nineteenth
century will never be quite known. There were alterations in 1818, and
it was restored in 1845; that is to say, much of its beautiful old work
was destroyed. But it has kept a few of its Norman pillars, and a
reverent rebuilding of much of the fabric by Sir Gilbert Scott in 1873
has left its noble relics enshrined under a fine tower. The vault holds
the dust of two of England's greatest men. The first and second Lords
Howard of