bells attached. The
canopy was usually afterwards presented to Becket's shrine at
Canterbury, and its bearers after the coronation dined in Westminster
Hall at the king's right hand. But the glory of these redoubtable Cinque
Ports has departed. Dover is the only one remaining in active service;
Sandwich, Hythe, and Romney are no longer ports at all; while Hastings
is in little better condition. The tides have gradually filled their
shallow harbors with silt. Of the "limbs," or lesser ports, two,
Winchelsea and Pevensey, are now actually inland towns, the sea having
completely retired from them. Such has also been the fate of Sandwich,
which in the time of Canute was described as the most famous harbor of
England. The coast has greatly changed, the shallow bays beyond the old
shore-line, which is still visible, being raised into green meadows. In
this way the water-course that made Thanet an island has been closed.

SANDWICH.

[Illustration: THE BARBICAN, SANDWICH.]

This silting up began at a remote era, closing one port after another,
and Sandwich rose upon their decline. It is the most ancient of the
Cinque Ports, and existed as a great harbor until about the year 1500,
when it too began to silt up. In a century it was quite closed, traffic
had passed away, and the town had assumed the fossilized appearance
which is now chiefly remarked about it. Sandwich lingers as it existed
in the Plantagenet days, time having mouldered it into quaint condition.
Trees grow from the tops of the old walls, and also intrude upon the
deep ditch with its round towers at the angles. Large open spaces,
gardens, and orchards lie between the houses within the walls of the
city. Going through the old gateway leading to the bridge crossing the
Stour, a little church is found, with its roof tinted with yellowish
lichens, and a bunch of houses below it covered with red, time-worn
tiles, and the still and sleepy river near by. This was the very gate of
that busy harbor which four centuries ago was the greatest in England
and the resort of ships from all parts of the then known world. Its
customs dues yielded $100,000 annually at the small rates imposed, and
the great change that has been wrought can be imagined, as the visitor
looks out over the once famous harbor to find it a mass of green meadows
with venerable trees growing here and there. Sandwich has no main
street, its winding, narrow and irregular passage-ways being left
apparently t