d seem a long road from Wiston under the Downs to the Gulf of
Guinea, the Quays of Venice, Constantinople, the Euphrates, Babylon,
Moscow, Prague, Rome, and Morocco, to die at last a beggar in purse,
but in heart a great Prince in Madrid.

Now, when I had been reminded of all this, I was directed to visit
Buncton Chapel to the north of Wiston Park, where I found indeed some
Norman work in the nave and chancel arch. And so I went on my way
through the failing afternoon by that beautiful road within sight of
the high Downs to the Washington Inn, where I slept, for it is a quiet
place not to be passed by.

And on the morrow I went on my way, still through as fair a country as
is to be found in all South England, through Storrington, and so by way
of Parham Park, with its noble Elizabethan house and little church with
the last leaden font in Sussex, a work of the fourteenth century, to
Amberley in the meads of the Arun, a dear and beautiful place.

Amberley boasts a Castle and stands right in the mouth of one of those
gaps in the Downs as Bramber does, the gap of the Arun, and it might
well be thought that Amberley held this pass. As a fact she did not.
That gap is held by Arundel; the Castle at Amberley was a palace of the
Bishop of Chichester, granted to the Bishop of Selsey long before the
Conquest; it was only castellated in the fourteenth century. It is none
the less an interesting ruin, very picturesque, with remains of a
chapel, while the beautiful house built within the castle walls early
in the sixteenth century is altogether lovely. And as for the church, I
can never hope to tell of all its interest and beauty. Certainly a
Norman church once stood here, of which the nave of that we see was
part, as was the very noble chancel arch; but the chancel itself, the
south aisle, and the tower are of the thirteenth century, while the
south door is very early Decorated, most beautifully carved. There is
not surely in all Sussex a more delightful spot than this lying so
quietly in the meads, with its beautiful church, its ruined castle, and
fine old Elizabethan house, where Arun bends slowly and lazily towards
the Downs and the sea.

It was with real regret that on that May morning I left Amberley,
turning often to look back at it, and last from the great seven-arched
bridge over the Arun, whence one may look down stream upon the wooded
slopes of Arundel Park. Then I went on up the road that winds through the
steep villa