h took place during the visit, including the "hunting"
scene in which buck deer were guided past Gloriana's bower, from which
she made dead shots at them, reminding one of the "bulls-eyes" with
which a later Queen opened the national shooting competition for her
worshipping subjects.

On St. Ann's Hill near the town may be traced the outlines of the
stronghold erected by the de Bohuns; the town and surrounding country
remained in their hands until Sir David Owen, uncle of Henry VII,
married the last of the line. Sir David sold the estate to the Earl of
Southampton, whose son left it to his half brother Sir Anthony Browne,
Standard Bearer of England; his son became the first Viscount Montague.

The estate is now held by Lord Cowdray, who has a modern mansion, built
in a flamboyant Elizabethan style, near-by.

Midhurst is a pleasant old place with some good ancient houses here and
there. Those in the centre which form the subject of Miss Vigers'
sketch, are being demolished as this is written; their disappearance
will be appreciated by motorists in a hurry but by no one else. The
Perpendicular church has been largely rebuilt during the last century
and the Montague Chantry lacks its tomb, which has been removed to
Easebourne. Richard Cobden was educated in the Grammar School (founded
in 1572). During the last few years Midhurst has become to some extent
a resort for Londoners who appreciate a quiet country town amid
beautiful surroundings which may be explored easily. The walks, not
only to the Downs on the south but northwards to the lovely and remote
hills which culminate in Blackdown, are among the best in West Sussex.
South, west, and east the town is well served by the Brighton and
South-Western Railways, a single line in each direction.

[Illustration: MARKET SQUARE, MIDHURST.]

The road to Henley is one of the loneliest as it is one of the
loveliest in south-west Sussex. The writer has tramped the long miles
to Henley (uphill all the way) without meeting a single pedestrian.
Even the advent of the great Sanatorium on the southern slopes of
Bexley Hill does not seem to have made any difference. Possibly
visitors use the public motor which runs between Midhurst and
Haslemere. By so doing they miss one of the finest woodland walks in
the south, indescribably beautiful in the scarlet and gold of late
autumn.

The traveller in Downland is advised for once to turn his back on the
hills and walk as far as the summi