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384 and goods. Dunwich suffered much loss from time to time by these raids. One noted man only we find living there after the dissolution of its monasteries in 1518: Fox, the first who printed in Saxon characters in England. He was imprisoned and exiled by Mary.

With an antiquarian delight Gardner devotes a large part of his book to the descriptions and drawings of the curiosities and relics he found in large numbers at Dunwich, some of which were very curious. Whether Roman, Anglo-Saxon, Norman, or relics of a later time, all receive full description, the circumstances of their discovery and their history are impartially given with equal care. The book may be commended in this respect to the curious in such matters, while the recollections of our excursion must be now limited.

Descending by the road to some cottages, we walked under the Grey Friars' wall again, past the lane before mentioned, which really led to Scott's Hall, a fine old tri-gabled house, now a farm, and we gained the open common — Westleton Common — when we turned and looked our last at Dunwich remains, of which we had the finest view. Perhaps the beauty of its situation is better manifested from this point than any other. At the top of the hill, clearly outlined against the purple lowering evening clouds, rose All Saints tower, a light grey mass of stone, above a crown of trees. From this leafy crest descended a steep incline of common, richly clothed with many-hued heather of crimson purple and brown, and with green and gold bracken, a sandy road winding tortuously down the hill, in one curve of which a corn-laden wain crept its slow way. Between the elm coronal and a broken bit of common was a peep of blue sea, with white-sailed, motionless ships; right and left of us trees and woody ravine. We were not strictly in Dunwich then, but in the parish of Westleton, by which route we wended our way to the nearest station, nine miles distant; a pleasant walk through old-world villages with round-towered and thatched churches and gossip-seats on the green, through pleasant fields, where the cattle stood in the after-glow, and rustic bridges spanned the tiny streams, till the railroad brought us back to a modern busy world once more.

 

  (Henry Stuart). — One day, in Campagna di Roma, we saw a splendid carriage and six horses of most brilliant caparison coming towards us across the plain. The carriage stopped; down went the window, and out came a head with a large red hat on it. He leant his arms on the window-ledge, saying, "Are you Englishmen?" "Yes, sir," I said. "Come to see Rome?" "Yes." And then he began asking questions, all of which I don't remember, till he stopped for a moment, and then, in a loud voice, said, "How are all my armies and navies in Britain?" I looked up with astonishment, and could not understand what he had to do with armies and navies. After staring in his face with amazement, I said, "The sailors are as jolly as ever, and the soldiers very comfortable in their barracks;" and while I still stood in confusion of mind, I saw him putting out his two fingers, and saying, "God bless you, my children!" he pulled up the window and drove off. Turning round, I went two or three steps to my companion, who stood behind me, and he said to me, "John, do you know who you have been talking to?" "No, Frank, I don’t know him; who is he?" "That was 'Charley is my darling's' brother!"

 

 