s popularly
credited to St. Denis, was never very interesting, but is less so now
that the Montagu tomb has been moved to Easebourne. Twenty years ago, I
remember, an old house opposite the church was rumoured to harbour a
pig-faced lady. I never had sight of her, but as to her existence and
her cast of feature no one was in the least doubt. Pig-faced ladies
(once so common) seem to have gone out, just as the day of Spring-heeled
Jack is over. Sussex once had her Spring-heeled Jacks, too, in some
profusion.

[Illustration: _Cowdray._]

[Sidenote: ELIZABETH AT COWDRAY]

Cowdray Park is gained from the High Street, just below the Angel Inn,
by a causeway through water meadows of the Rother. The house is now but
a shell, never having been rebuilt since the fire which ate out its
heart in 1793: yet a beautiful shell, heavily draped in rich green ivy
that before very long must here and there forget its earlier duty of
supporting the walls and thrust them too far from the perpendicular to
stand. Cowdray, built in the reign of Henry VIII., did not come to its
full glory until Sir Anthony Browne, afterwards first Viscount Montagu,
took possession. The seal was put upon its fame by the visit of Queen
Elizabeth in 1591 (Edward VI. had been banqueted there by Sir Anthony in
1552, "marvellously, nay, rather excessively," as he wrote), as some
return for the loyalty of her host, who, although an old man, in 1588,
on the approach of the Armada, had ridden straightway to Tilbury, with
his sons and his grandson, the first to lay the service of his house at
her Majesty's feet. A rare pamphlet is still preserved describing the
festivities during Queen Elizabeth's sojourn. On Saturday, about eight
o'clock, her Majesty reached the house, travelling from Farnham, where
she had dined. Upon sight of her loud music sounded. It stopped when she
set foot upon the bridge, and a real man, standing between two wooden
dummies whom he exactly resembled, began to flatter her exceedingly.
Until she came, he said, the walls shook and the roof tottered, but one
glance from her eyes had steadied the turret for ever. He went on to
call her virtue immortal and herself the Miracle of Time, Nature's
Glory, Fortune's Empress, and the World's Wonder. Elizabeth, when he had
made an end, took the key from him and embraced Lady Montagu and her
daughter, the Lady Dormir; whereupon "the mistress of the house (as it
were weeping in the bosome) said, 'O happie time