,'t;/-, ■■-;yc--j-r; f i:^-/..j Qfarnell Unitieratty Htbrara Uttjara, IStw ^ork FROM Henry Woodward Sackett, '75 A BEQUEST Cornell University Library DA 690.E125D97 Highways and byways in East Anglia 3 1924 028 114 423 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924028114423 HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS IN EAST ANGLIA Caister ChurcJu Highways and Byways in East Anglia BY WILLIAM A. DUTT WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JOSEPH PENNELL aonlion MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited NEW YORK : THE MACMILLAN COMPANY I9OI v\ All rights reserved 3. A ■ & o o <^- ? Q Richard Clay and Soxs, Limitf.d, london and bungay, CONTENTS CHAPTER I page: IPSWICH, WOODBRIDGE, PARHAM, AND FRAMLINGHAM .... I CHAPTER II DUNWICH AND SOUTKWOLD . 36 CHAPTER III LOWESTOFT AND FRITTON LAKE, YARMOUTH AND BREYDON WATER 60 CHAPTER IV CAISTER CASTLE, NORWICH, AND HOUSEHOLD HEATH ... 9I CHAPTER V THE BROADLAND 133 CHAPTER VI EAST DEREHAM, " ARCADY," CASTLE ACRE, AND WYMONDHAM . 157 viii CONTENTS CHAPTER VII PAGE EI ICKUNG, CROMER, AND THE COAST ROAD TO WELLS .... 200 CHAPTER VIII WALSINGHAM, HOUGHTON, AND SANDRINGHAM 231 CHAPTER IX CASTLE RISING, KING'S LYNN, AND MARSHLAND 257 CHAPTER X ACROSS THE FENS 289 CHAPTER XI THE ISLE OF ELY 306 CHAPTER XII BRANDON AND THETFORD 328 CHAPTER XIII BLOOMFIELD'S COUNTRY AND BURY ST. EDMUNDS 353 CHAPTER XIV AI.DBOROUGH, ORFORD, AND CONSTABLE'S COUNTRY 389 INDEX 407 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE CAISTER CHURCH - . Frontispiece NEAR TARHAM I IPSWICH 2 IPSWICH HARBODR 5 CUSTOM HOUSE, IPSWICH 6 THE ANCIENT HOUSE, IPSWICH 7 THE RED LION, MARTI.ESHAM II WOODBRIDGE 13 LITTLE GRANGE, WOODBRIDGE 1 5 THE TOWN HALL, WOODBRIDGE 17 THE DOCK AT WOODBRIDGE l8 WICKHAM MARKET 19 THE VILLAGE STREET, PARHAM 21 THE MOAT HALL, PARHAM 23 FRAMLINGHAM CASTLE 27 X LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PACE THE MOAT AT FRAIILINGHAM 3' TAILPIECE .....••• 35 THE CLIFFS, DUNWICH 36 YOXFORD 37 RUINS NEAR PEASENHALL 39 PEASENHALL 4I WALBERSWICK 45 THE ROAD TO WALBERSWICK ............. 46 WALBERSWICK 47 WALBERSWICK 48 THE OLD PIER, WALBERSWICK 49 WALBERSWICK FERRY 50 SOUTHWOLD FROM WALBERSWICK 5I SOUTHWOLD CHURCH 52 SOUTHWOLD SEA-FRONT 54 BLYTHBURGH CHURCH 57 BOATS COMING INTO LOWESTOFT 59 FISHING BOATS, LOWESTOFT 60 LOWESTOFT HARBOUR 63 LOWESTOFT FROM LAKE LOTHING 65 SITE OF sorrow's COTTAGE, OULTON BROAD 66 THE PIER, LOWESTOFT 68 LOWESTOFT INNER HARBOUR 71 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xi PAGE YARMOUTH 77 THE QUAY, YARMOUTH . 79 YARMOUTH BEACH 81 ALMS HOUSES, YARMOUTH 83 THE WIND MILL 85 YARMOUTH CHURCH 86 YARMOUTH, THE GREAT MILL 88 THE QUAY, YARMOUTH gO YARMOUTH FROM THE CAISTER ROAD 91 CAISTER CASTLE 92 BURGH ST. MARY CHURCH 97 ACLE 100 ROUND-TOWERED CHURCH, NEAR ACLE lOI ACLE^RIDGE 102 bishop's BRIDGE, AND THE CATHEDRAL, NORWICH I05 THE RIVER, NORWICH I07 MARKET PLACE AND ST. PETER MANCROFT CHURCH, NORWICH . lOg THE CASTLE, NORWICH Ill THE NAVE OF NORWICH CATHEDRAL 113 TOMBLAND, NORWICH 11$ IN THE CLOSE, NORWICH I18 ERPINGHAM GATE, NORWICH 121 NORWICH FROM MOUSEHOLD HEATH . 127 xii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS THORPE, NEAR NORWICH PAGE WROXHAM BRIDGE BURGH CHURCH, ON THE SURE '37 POTTER HEIGHAM BRIDGE '41 A MILL ON THE BURE '44 ON THE YARE H^ ON THE BURE • • • '55 FILBY BROAD I56 NEAR EAST DEREHAM I57 BAWBURGH 158 BAWBURGH CHURCH 160 ON THE ROAD TO EAST DEREHAM 162 EAST DEREHAM . . . 165 THE CHURCHYARD AND ST. WITHBURGA's WELL, EAST DEREHAM 166 east dereham 168 scarning, dr. jessopp's church 171 THE market place, SWAFFHAM 176 church tower, SWAFFHAM 1 78 CASTLE ACRE I80 CASTLE ACRE PRIORY 182 KIMBERLEY HALL ■ 187 THE VILLAGE GREEN, KIMBERLEY ........... 188 WYMONDHAM CHURCH iSO LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xiii PAGE WYMONDHAM CHURCH TOWEKS . Igo WYMONDHAM MARKET CROSS 1 92 STANFIELD HALL I94 CROMER ■ 200 HORSHAII ST. faith's 202 BLICKLING HALL. 210 CROMER 213 WEST RUNTON CHURCH 21$ MORSTON 217 BEESTON PRIORY 219 SHERINGHAM 220 SALTHOUSE 221 SALTHOUSE 222 THE CHURCH AT CLEY 223 CLEY 224 CLEY 225 BLAKENEY 226 THE HARBOUR, BLAKENEY 228 THE LANTERN AT BLAKENEY CHURCH 229 STIFFKEY 230 WELLS 231 ABBEY GATEWAY, WALSINGHAM 234 WALSINGHAM ABBEY 236 xiv LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE THE OLD SHOE HOUSE, NEAR WAI.SINGHAM 24I EAST BARSHAM 242 EAST BARSHAM MANOR HOUSE 243 HOUGHTON HALL AND CHURCH 245 SANDRINGHAM, FROM THE GARDEN 25 1 TAILPIECE 256 LYNN FROM THE RIVER 257 RISING CASTLE 258 GATEWAY, RISING CASTLE 259 THE TOWN HALL, LYNN 264 THE RIVER AT LYNN 266 OLD WAREHOUSES, LYNN 268 LYNN 273 CUSTOM HOUSE, LYNN 276 THE SOUTH GATE, LYNN 282 THE OUSE 288 A FEN FERRY 289 DOWNHAM MANOR HOUSE 293 LITTLEPORT ,01 THE ROAD TO LITTLEPORT ,05 J^LY 306 WEST DOOR, ELY -qq IN THE TRANSEPT, ELY •!I2 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xv PAGE THE CLOSE GATEWAY, ELY . . 315 THE WEST FRONT, ELY 317 THE bishop's PALACE, ELY 32 1 THE TRANSEPT, ELY 323 ELY, FROM THE PARK 325 THE WOODS, NEAR BRANDON 328 BRANDON BRIDGE 33I THE BELL INN, THETFORD 339 NEAR EAST DEREHAM 352 BURY ST. EDMUNDS 353 PAKENHAM CHURCH 364 THE NORMAN TOWER, BURY ST. EDMUNDS 372 THE ABBEY GATEWAY, BURY ST. EDMUNDS 379 STOWMARKET MILL 385 NEEDHAM MARKET 388 THE BELL CAGE, EAST BERGHOLT CHURCHYARD 389 EAST BERGHOLT 39^ EAST BERGHOLT 4°° DEDHAM STREET 402 FLATFORD MILL, EAST BERGHOLT ........... 4O4 V HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS EAST ANGLIA CHAPTER I IPSWICH, WOODBRIDGE, PARHAM, AND FRAMLINGHAM To set out on a tour through East AngUa without first ascertaining East AngHa's extent and precise bounds, is to enter upon a somewhat vague and venturesome enterprise ; yet that is what I am about to do, and with Httle care as to where my wanderings may take me. As a matter of fact, the limits of East Anglia have never, since the days of the East Anglian kings, been clearly defined, and I doubt whether even in their time it was known with absolute certainty where Northurabria and Mercia ended and East Anglia began. Norfolk and Suflblk are certainly in East Anglia, and so, too, are portions of Essex, Cambridgeshire, and Lincolnshire ; but I question whether even the London Society of East Anglians, widely as it defines the term " East Anglian," would consider as such a man born in, say, Grimsby or Leytonstone. So it is left for every one to decide for himself how much of Eastern England is East Anglia ; and as this gives me a fairly wide field for travel I may well set out with a light heart, little ,, 3E B 2 EAST ANGLIA chap. heeding how often I stray from the great high roads or cross from one county into another. Yet at the outset I reahse that I must be content with journeying through some parts of Norfolk, Suffolk, and Cambridgeshire, and leave Lincolnshire to some other highway and byway peregrinator. Even so curtailed, my itinerary will be as remarkable for what it misses as what it brings me in touch with ; but the square acreage of the Eastern counties is so considerable that this is unavoid- able. Still, there is satisfaction in knowing that whatever Ips-zvich. route one takes it cannot prove a barren one, for Eastern England is so rich in romantic, historical, and legendary interest, and so full of relics of the days when that interest was created, that go where you will between Ipswich and Ely, and Thetford and the shores of the North Sea, you will always find your eyes and mind pleasantly occupied. This wealth of diverse interest goes far towards atoning for the monotony of much of the scenery, which is generally of a pastoral kind. Although the lowland districts afford wide and inspiring vistas, East Anglian scenery can nowhere be described as grand or sublime, and it only attains to perfect charm and r HISTORY AND LEGEND 3 loveliness where winding rivers and placid lagoons are its most conspicuous and pervading features. I could never find it in me, however, to decry East Anglian scenery because of its lameness ; rather, I could pity the man who is unable to discover in its quaint old-world hamlets, leafy lanes and byways, breezy heaths, flower-spangled meads, thatched farmsteads, and ancient shrines many elements of the picturesque. As for the historical interest of the dis- trict, it both gains and loses something in that many of the events in which it originated occurred so long ago that they have become inseparably associated with romantic legends and untrustworthy traditions. For instance, no battles of any importance have been fought in East Anglia since the days of the Norman kings ; but long before those days the district was the scene of strenuously contested encounters between the Danes and Angles, the grave-heaps of whose slain may still be seen on the Thetford warrens ; while centuries before Edmund the Martyr met his death at the hands of Inguar and Ubba, the brave queen of the Iceni led her half-savage warriors against the trained legions of Rome. Of the details of these grim fights, which were fought before the days of those monkish chroniclers who were always ready to record any unusual fact or wonderful myth, we know little or nothing ; we can only point to the grass-grown barrows and let them speak for themselves. And if we are at a loss when asked to tell of these encounters, what can we say about the prehistoric strife which brought the swarthy, skin-cloaked Eskurians to the Brandon flint pits, those primitive arsenals where they fashioned their axes and arrows of stone? " Grimes Graves," as these pits are called, remain to us to-day, and near them dwell " knappers " who even now work flints in much the same manner as did the men of the Stone Age ; but how little do they tell us of the vanished race who dug them ! Even if we remove the wind-heaped warren sand, and grope with spade and pickaxe, we unearth only a few flint flakes and primitive B 3 4 FACT AND MYTH chap. weapons, and the conclusions we draw from these relics are more remarkable for vagueness than value. And as it is with the early battles, so it is with the early warriors of East Anglia, such as Redwald, Edmund, and, later, Hereward. We know they existed and beHeve they did wonderful deeds ; but we are told that we must read of those deeds, as they are handed down to us by the old chroniclers, in much the same spirit as we read of the fabulous exploits of the ancient gods. So I do not ask any one to believe all I shall tell of the castles and abbeys, towns and hamlets of East Anglia. If I have any aim or method in my narrations, it is to follow the lead of the monkish chroniclers and relate both fact and myth, generally leaving it to others to judge where the line should be drawn between them. Wherever I go I am an incurably sentimental traveller ; I love to muse over a grey old priory as much on account of its incredible legends as for its actual and credible history. Walsingham Abbey loses nothing of its charm for me because Erasmus made caustic comment on the silly stories he heard from the monks there; the assurance of a learned bookworm that Dunwich in the height of its pros- perity did not rival the London of its day, does not rob me of a moment's pleasure while I stand on the cliffs from which the old city sank into the sea. As I am a seeker of the picturesque in scenery, so am 1 a searcher for the romantic in story ; and while I have eyes for the one and instinct for finding the other, no isolated hamlet can be utterly dull to me, or legend and ballad without its interest or charm. Just one hundred and seventy-eight years ago, in the month of April, and almost on the same day of that month as this on which I am setting out on a tour through East Anglia, the author of Robinson Crusoe started on a journey through the Eastern counties, with a view to writing a "particular and diverting account of whatever is curious and worth observ- I DEFOE AT IPSWICH 5 ation" in those counties. After loitering among the Essex marshes, where he was much impressed by meeting with men who had had from five or six to fourteen or fifteen wives, and describing at length the siege of Colchester during the Civil War of 1648, Defoe came to Ipswich, where he found much that was curious and diverting. The town especially commended itself to him on account of its "very agreeable and improving company almost of every kind " ; but with the ardour of an enthusiastic pamphleteer he promptly set about Ipsivicli Harioitr. confuting the "wild observations" of certain earlier writers, whose aims, in all probability, had been not unlike his own. These " wild observations " do not now move us to either amazement or indignation : they apply to such subjects as the building of two-hundred-tons ships (Defoe maintained that the Ipswich shipwrights were capable of building ships of upwards of four-hundred tons), and their launching at John's Ness. Nor, for my own part, am I tempted, even by the prospect of enjoying agreeable and improving company, to linger in the town ; for this is one of the first warm mornings of spring, and I 6 MR. PICKWICK'S EXPERIENCES chap. am longing to get away from the busy streets and into the midst of Rushmere Heath, where I know the larks are soaring and singing, and the gorse is bursting into a blaze of bloom. Ipswich, I am quite ready to admit, is a charming town ; its Ancient House is worth a long journey to see ; but unlike a very distinguished traveller, who, according to his biographer, started from the Bull Inn, Whitechapel, in the morning and arrived at Ipswich at nightfall, I have no intention of spending a night at the Great White Horse Inn. The character of that Ciisiorn House, Ipswich. famous hostelry is, no doubt, unimpeachable ; but I cannot forget Mr. Pickwick's experiences there when, after receiving the confidences of Mr. Peter Magnus, he retired to the wrong bedroom and had such a disconcerting encounter with the middle-aged lady in yellow curl papers. So I' take to the Woodbridge Road — the old London to Yarmouth coach road — telling myself that if nothing unforeseen befall me I will stand under the walls of Framlingham Castle before their outlines are indefinable in the dusk. If it were necessary, I might well rely on Dickens to guide THE GREAT WHITE HORSE INN me over many miles of my journey through south-eastern East Anglia. Pickwick is quite as definite as Murray when it comes to dealing with the Great White Horse. " In the main street of Ipswich, on the left-hand side of the way, a short distance after you have passed through the open space fronting the Town Hall, stands an inn known far and wide by the appellation of the Great White Horse, rendered the more conspicuous by a stone statue of some rampacious animal with flowing mane and tail, distantly resembling an insane Tlie Ancient House ^ Ipsvjich. cart-horse, which is elevated above the principal door. The Great White Horse is famous in the neighbourhood, in the same degree as a prize ox, or county paper-chronicled turnip, or unwieldy pig — for its enormous size." And when Pickwick failed me, David Copperfield would come to my aid, and I must be without the slightest development of the bump of locality if, with the assistance of that delightful autobiography, I could not find my way to Lowestoft, where David stayed on his way to London; Blundeston, where he spent his boyhood; and Yarmouth, where he explored with Peggotty the 8 MARGARET CATCHPOLE chap. beachmen's colony and rambled through the quaint old " rows." But David would desert me when we reached Wickham Market, and I should have to find my own way to Framlingham ; so I will leave him and Mr. Pickwick gazing together out of the stationer's window at the Ancient House, and venture out alone on to Rushmere Heath, finding consolation in the fact that no gibbet now swings its ghastly burden on that desolate waste land, and that I live in an age when I can approach the Kesgrave barrows without hearing the wailing of the spirits of the dead in the voice of the wind among the trees. Indeed, on such a morning as this, and on such a sunny, breezy plain, one can well do without human or Active society. The warm breath of spring, fragrant with the fresh odour of the young seed leaves ; the lengthening hazel and alder catkins, the purple dead nettles, the singing thrushes, blackbirds, wrens, and robins, all go far towards making up for the absence of human life from the long, white, turf-bordered road. So I am content to travel slowly along the border of Rushmere Heath, not only on account of the singing birds and the spring wild flowers, but because I remember that it v.'as along this same Woodbridge road that the heroine of that " romantic but perfectly true narrative," the History of Margaret Catchpok, hastened, with her lover Will Laud, the daring smuggler, on the night of her escape from Ipswich Gaol. Will Laud was often afloat on the Orwell, or concealed in the river's quiet creeks, and it was from its bank that Margaret, beguiled, by the sham Dutchman's story, from the Priory Farm at Downham Reach on a harvest home night, anxiously scanned the dimming reaches for a glimpse of the smuggler's sail. There, too, she may have seen — and the Rev. R. Cobbold, in his " perfectly true narrative," says she did see — old Tom Colson, better known as Robinson Crusoe, the Orwell fisherman who had a horseshoe nailed to his crazy boat, and his body adorned with mystic signs and amulets. He it was, we are I MARGARET CATCHPOLE'S RIDE 9 told, who on that fateful autumn night, when Laud and Luff had planned to carry off the faithful Margaret in their lugger, came down upon them on the shores of Downham Reach, and, laying about him with his long-handled cod-hook, beat them off and set the maiden free. But Margaret, although she escaped then, was fated to again become the victim of nefarious schemes, and in the end her enemies and unworthy friends succeeded in ruining her reputation and getting her transported to Botany Bay. Her story is well known in Suffolk, where the scenes of her escapades and those of her persecutors are still pointed out to the curious ; but outside the county it arouses little interest. Yet her life, in its early stages, was a singularly eventful one, and her ride to London is as notable in its way as Turpin's legendary ride to York. Ever since she was a child living under her father's roof on the border of the Nacton heathland, Margaret had been renowned for her skill at riding ; and it was a knowledge of this that led her enemies to concoct the scheme which brought her into trouble. Telling her that her lover despaired of ever seeing her again, fear of the excisemen preventing him from venturing into Suffolk, they persuaded her to take from her master's stables one of the best horses and ride to Laud's place of concealment. Not until she had donned a stableman's clothes and mounted the horse was she informed of her lover's whereabouts, and then she learned that he was hiding in London. Feeling that it was then too late to abandon her daring enterprise, she refused to think what might be its con- sequences, so at one o'clock on a May morning in the year 1797 she set out on her long ride. With only the ever- watch- ful stars to see her, she rode quietly out of Ipswich and on to the main road to London. Instead of troubling about the fearful penalty of horse-stealing in those days, all her thoughts were of the lover she was to meet and the happiness which, after a long period of heart-ache and unrest, they were to share. I fancy I can hear her draw a long breath of relief as she leaves lo MARGARET CATCHPOLE'S RIDE CH. i the last town house behind her and sees before her, stretching Hke a white ribband between the shadowy fields, the silent deserted country road. The new foliage of the roadside trees, as yet untarnished by the dust the mails will set flying ere many weeks are gone, makes the night air fragrant ; and the white blossoms of the blackthorn, just vanishing before the blooming of the may, are like a rime-frost on the hedgerows. Nightingales are singing in the copses; now and again an owl hoots in a dusky wood or flies heavily over the fields ; but Margaret is heedless of all the sights and sounds of the fine May night ; scarcely conscious even of the movements of the horse beneath her. She is thinking of the days when as a child she rode her father's plough horses home from the fields ; of her first meeting with Laud in the little cottage in Nacton village street; of her night's experience on the shores of Downham Reach; and thinking of these things, and of the strange treatment she has received at her lover's hands, some doubt may have arisen in her mind as to how he would receive her, and the wisdom of again putting faith in his promises. But she has no thought of turning back ; and when, within two miles of Colchester, the Ipswich mail dashes past her, she turns her head aside so that the driver may not see her face. The guard, however, recognises the horse, and calls to the driver that there must be " something wrong " for a groom to be riding at such a pace, and when he reaches Ipswich, and recounts what he has seen, the news soon spreads and the strawberry roan is missed from the stables. Of all this Margaret knows nothing, so cannot be aware that even while she is only a little more than halfway on her journey an Ipswich printer is striking off copies of a handbill about a stolen gelding, to be sent to London by the morning mail. At Marks Tey she makes the only pause in her long ride, and then only stops long enough to give her noble horse a feed of corn. This is at five o'clock in the morning, and she has aheady been five hours in the saddle. At Chelmsford she Tlte Red Lion, Martlesham. 12 MARGARET CATCHPOLE'S RIDE chap. dares not stop for fear her appearance there at such an early hour should excite suspicion. So she rides out of the dark into the dawn, her face white with weariness, but freshened by the cool breezes of the spring morning ; she sees the owls fly home to the woods and the larks rise to'welcome the new day; and the gallant roan, responsive to the longing of his rider's heart that she may soon rest in her lover's arms, thuds onward at the same fast even pace he has kept up all through the night. She passes through Stratford just at the time when people are at their breakfasts, and at half-past nine trots into the yard of the Bell Inn, in Aldgate, having ridden seventy miles in eight and a half hours. The identification of the adventurous girl in spite of her dis- guise, and her arrest on a charge of horse-stealing are matters of a few hours. After lying in Newgate and Ipswich gaol nearly three months, she is brought before Lord Chief Baron Macdonald at Bury Assizes, and condemned to death. Her demeanour at the trial, and the evidence of many friends, who are glad to testify to her previous good conduct, are not, however, without effect upon the court, and the judge promises to lay her case before the King, with a view to the commuting of her sentence to one of transportation. This is done as soon as the court rises, and in a few days a reply comes from the Home Office empowering the judge to deal with the case at his dis- cretion. The sentence is commuted to one of seven years transportation ; but much doubt is felt whether Margaret will really be sent to the new penal settlement at Botany Bay ; it is considered highly probable she will serve her term in her own country. Until this is decided she is kept in Ipswich Gaol. There she remains nearly three years, and then, with the assistance of her lover Laud, who must have felt that he owed her much for the trouble he had brought her, effects her escape. They hope to be able to cross over in a smuggler's boat to Holland, and such a boat is to await them on Sudbourn beach. Just as the clock strikes midnight, Margaret lets her- MARGARET'S ESCAPE FROM GAOL Woodbrid^e. self down from the prison wall. Laud is near by, ready to guide her out of the town, and in a few minutes they are hastening together along this same Woodbridge road. In an 14 WOODBRIDGE CHAP. empty cartshed the girl puts on a seaman's garb, then strikes out by quiet byways and across lonesome waste lands for the sea. At Sudbourn, however, there are no signs of the longed-for boat, and in the meantime Margaret's escape has become known and the country is being scoured to find her. While she and her companion are still wandering about the beach, anxiously watching for the appearance of the boat which is to carry them to safety, Ripshaw, the Ipswich gaoler, and a constable surprise them, and a struggle ensues in which Laud is shot through the heart. Margaret is retaken, and lodged again in Ipswich Gaol. As her gallant ride ended in disaster, so her last hope of freedom and security in another land is banished by the welding of fresh fetters and the final tragedy of her lover's death. I had no intention of lingering so long over Margaret Catchpole's story, and, indeed, there was little need that I should, for is it not all contained in the Rev. R. Cobbold's " romantic but perfectly true " chronicles ? But I have been loitering on the Woodbridge road, amid scenes with which Margaret must have been familiar and which have tended to keep her story in my mind. Some of these ancient cottages and homesteads around Martlesham can have looked little less ancient when the high-spirited and unfortunate Suffolk girl was still in her native county ; and Martlesham Red Lion — with its awe-inspiring sign, said to have been the figurehead of a Dutch warship which fought in the battle of Sole Bay — was a noted hostelry long before she was born. Anyhow, amid the scenes of her loving and daring she has been my companion for an hour to-day, and I wish Edward FitzGerald were alive, and in his old home at Woodbridge, so that I might go to him and tell him what an entertaining companion she has been. For it is to Little Grange, " Old Fitz's " ivy-clad house, that I make my way even before visiting his favourite resort, the Bull Inn, or hunting up his old lodgings " over Berry the gunsmith's shop " on the Market Hill. There is no difficulty LITTLE GRANGE 1!P IS LittU Grange^ Woodhridge. in finding it. You ride along the main street of the town until you almost come to an end of the houses, then turn i6 EDWARD FITZGERALD chap. sharply to the left at the top of the hill which slopes downward from the town. About a hundred yards down the branching road, on the left-hand side, is Little Grange, looking much the same as when FitzGerald left it. Except that it stands rather too close to the road, it seems an ideal home for a man who, while he loved to mingle with his fellow men, and found congenial companions even in the Bull Inn bar-room, was never so happy as when among his books. Here he enjoyed his " Book of Verses underneath the Bough " ; and if there was no sweet human singer to make his wilderness " Paradise enow," no doubt the nightingales sang to him here in spring, and left him lamenting " That Spring should vanish with the Rose ! That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close ! " There are no nightingales singing around Little Grange to day ; but before many days have passed they will be back in their old haunts ; and then " Old Fitz's " ghost should walk along the " quarter-deck " in front of the house, where, according to Mr. Hindes Groome, Charles Keene marched and played his bagpipes. " Old Fitz " is well remembered in Woodbridge, for even after he had given up his lodgings on Market Hill and betaken himself to this quiet retreat, he often strolled into the town, cutting a queer figure with his " old Inverness cape, double-breasted, flowered-satin waistcoat, slippers on feet, and a handkerchief, very likely, tied over his hat." He was looked upon as an eccentric, both here and at Lowestoft, where I am sure to hear of him again ; and some strange stories are told of him. Mr. Groome has recorded how he sailed over to Holland (he was an enthusiastic yachtsman) with the intention of seeing Paul Potter's " Bull " ; but on arriving there, and finding a suitable breeze blowing, set out at once on his homeward voyage ; and again, how he started for Edinburgh, but on reaching Newcastle found a train about to leave for London, so took the opportunity of returning home. The Bull Inn — it still looks solid and THE LANDLORD OF THE BULL 17 substantial, though much of its business departed with the mail coaches and post-boys— will always be noted for its association with the translator — or should it be, author — of the immortal quatrains. I wish its former landlord were alive, so that I might recall his old patron to his mind, and, maybe, hear The Town Hall, Woodbridge. some saying that might fitly be set down beside that famous one uttered when FitzGerald remarked to him that Woodbridge should feel highly honoured at being visited by Tennyson, who was a guest at Little Grange—" Daresay ; but he didn't fare to know much about horses ! " c i8 WOODBRIDGE This is a delightful little town -one of the prettiest little country market towns in England. Nesding on the slopes of what in Suffolk must be called a hilly district, the sun always seems to shine on it, and the gleaming Deben to love it for its beauty and woo it to its banks. Poets have always loved it. Tennyson, FitzGerald, Crabbe, Barton— I wonder if any one outside Suffolk ever reads the works of Bernard Barton, coal merchant, bank clerk, and poet, now— all rambled and mused in these narrow streets and leafy lanes, watched the big-sailed barges come creeping up the river, and listened to ^M!k