e they could assist
the inning, and so obtain an additional field at the extremity of their
rightly-acquired land. In 1724 we have Defoe writing: "By digging
Ditches, and making Drains there are now Fields and Meadows where
antiently was nothing but Water. By this means Ships of but a middle
Size cannot come to any convenient distance near the Town, whereas
formerly the largest Vessels, and even whole Fleets together could
anchor just by the Rocks on which the Town stands."

But still, despite its struggles--perhaps by reason of them--Rye has
always managed to carry on. It has had its systole and diastole of
success; but, unlike Winchelsea, it has never given up the fight.
Periods there have been when every hand has seemed against it; but
times there have been too--the Commonwealth, for instance--when the
town has enjoyed a compensating prosperity. It has fought for its
existence, and it has survived; and there are no more apt words
concerning the two Antient Towns than those of Coventry Patmore:
"Winchelsea is a town in a trance, a sunny dream of centuries ago, but
Rye is a bit of the Old World living on in happy ignorance of the New".

At Winchelsea the church is the centre of everything: you cannot move a
hundred yards without coming into sight of it. But you might walk
round and about Rye all day and not notice it. Shut away at the top of
the hill, behind and away from all the everyday business of life, in
its isolation it somewhat resembles a cathedral. But there the
resemblance stops: there is no cathedral atmosphere. True, there is a
quiet in the square, but it is not the cold ghostly hush of the close
or the cloister. Instead, all is sunlight and warmth. The walls are
grey, the buttresses are grey, the tombs are grey, but it is a warm
familiar colour, at one with the red of the lichen-grown roofs, in full
harmony with the surrounding mosaic of colour.

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[Illustration: RYE CHURCH]

Rye church stands at the top of the hill, behind and away from all the
everyday business of life. Its walls are grey, but it is a warm
familiar colour, at one with the red of the lichen-covered roofs.

(_See page 54_)

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Just below the churchyard, in the south-east corner, the Ypres (or, as
it is called locally, the Wipers) Tower still stands, a squat,
heavy-looking building, n