. Sussex_, suggests that a field north of the village was once the
site of a considerable Roman villa. A local sarcasm credits Piddinghoe
people with the habit of shoeing their magpies.

[Illustration: _Piddinghoe._]

The Downs when we saw them first, between Midhurst and Chichester,
formed an inland chain parallel with the shore: here, and eastward as
far as Beachy Head, where they suddenly cease, their southern slopes are
washed by the Channel. This companionship of the sea lends them an
additional wildness: sea mists now and then envelop them in a cloud; sea
birds rise and fall above their cliffs; the roar or sigh of the waves
mingles with the cries of sheep; the salt savour of the sea is borne on
the wind over the crisp turf. It was, I fancy, among the Downs in this
part of Sussex that Mrs. Marriott-Watson wrote the intimately
understanding lines which I take the liberty of quoting:

[Sidenote: A HILL POEM]

ON THE DOWNS.

Broad and bare to the skies
The great Down-country lies,
Green in the glance of the sun,
Fresh with the clean salt air;
Screaming the gulls rise from the fresh-turned mould,
Where the round bosom of the wind-swept wold
Slopes to the valley fair.

Where the pale stubble shines with golden gleam
The silver ploughshare cleaves its hard-won way
Behind the patient team,
The slow black oxen toiling through the day
Tireless, impassive still,
From dawning dusk and chill
To twilight grey.

Far off the pearly sheep
Along the upland steep
Follow their shepherd from the wattled fold,
With tinkling bell-notes falling sweet and cold
As a stream's cadence, while a skylark sings
High in the blue, with eager outstretched wings,
Till the strong passion of his joy be told.

But when the day grows old,
And night cometh fold on fold,
Dulling the western gold,
Blackening bush and tree,
Veiling the ranks of cloud,
In their pallid pomp and proud
That hasten home from the sea,
Listen--now and again if the night be still enow,
You may hear the distant sea range to and fro
Tearing the shingly bourne of his bounden track,
Moaning with hate as he fails and falleth back;

The Downs are peopled then;
Fugitive, low-browed men
Start from the slopes around
Over the murky ground
Crouching they run wi