formerly surmounted by a spire. The ceiling of both nave and chancel is of handsome panelled wood, and was once exquisitely coloured in blue and gold; and in the chancel there still remain the seats used by a religious confraternity when saying their services. The church is said formerly to have contained chapels named after St. James, St. Margaret, St. George, and St. Thomas; and to have been the home of a religious brotherhood, established for the honour of St. George of merry England, whose statue they carried yearly in solemn procession round the town. There are still some fine remains of mural monuments, and the pavement shows traces of abundant brasses, which were torn from their places by the ignorant zeal of the Puritans. The Dutch residents were once allowed to have prayers and a sermon here, as in the cathedral at Canterbury, upon paying towards the expenses of the service. When I visited the church a few months since, I found that the upper part of its tower was being pulled down in order to be rebuilt more strongly, and that its fine peal of bells was lying in the north chancel, sentenced to be sold by the churchwardens and other parishioners, in order to apply the money to the expense of repairing the fabric. A happily-conceived letter in the Times,' signed 'Campana'-probably with the double meaning of 'campaigner'-denouncing the sacrilege and vandalism of the good people of Sandwich, drew public attention to the matter, and in

about a fortnight afterwards the Archbishop of Canterbury sent down an inhibition, which stopped the sale, and saved the bells for a time.

When it is borne in mind that from the time of Athelstan to that of Charles II. (a thousand years) kings and princes have fought at or visited and resided in the town, that the fleets of England have constantly sailed thence, that its mariners and trained bands have done good service in the defence of their country, and that it has been the cradle and nursing mother of many of its manufactures-we can hardly suppose that Englishmen will allow such a noble fabric as this church, with its splendid peal of bells, standing in the centre of the town, to fall into ruins for the sake of a few hundred pounds.

I

114

A DAY AT ST. OSYTH'S PRIORY.

IF any of my readers wishes for perfect quiet, rest, and repose, and to be well out of the way of smoke and bustle, of duns and other visitors—in fact, has a particular desire to find within sixty miles of London a place which, for all practical purposes, shall be to him or to her 'the world's end'-by all means let him make up his mind to spend a few days at the little village of St. Osyth, on the Essex coast. I cannot promise him trout-fishing, or fly-fishing, or any other similar luxury which belongs to the 'quiet and gentle life'; but, at all events, here he will be able to spend his days in calm contemplation, without even the dissipation of fine scenery to distract his mind. Here -better, perhaps, than in any other village equally near to the great metropolis-he will be able to appreciate the sober advice of Horace

Omitte mirari beatæ

Fumum et opes strepitumque Romæ.

I remember reading, many years ago, in 'Punch,' a paragraph headed 'Strange Insanity,' and stating