dmire for its "utter carelessness and scorn of smoothness and
finish, or any of the tricks of modern buildings." Westham church was
one of the first that the Conqueror built, and remains of the original
Norman structure are still serviceable. The vicar suggests that it may
very possibly have stood a siege. In the jamb of the south door of the
Norman wall is a sundial, without which, one might say, no church is
completely perfect. In the tower dwell unmolested a colony of owls, six
of whom once attended a "reading-in" service and, seated side by side on
a beam, listened with unwavering attention to the Thirty-Nine Articles.
They were absent on my visit, but a small starling, swift and elusive as
a spirit, flitted hither and thither quite happily.

[Illustration: _Westham._]

[Sidenote: ALES CRESSEL]

In the churchyard is the grave of one Ales Cressel (oddest of names),
and among the epitaphs is this upon a Mr. Henty:--

Learn from this mistic sage to live or die.
Well did he love at evening's social hour
The Sacred Volume's treasure to apply.

The remembrance of his excellent character alone reconciles his
afflicted widow to her irreparable loss.

The church contains a memorial to a young gentleman named Fagg who,
"having lived to adorn Human Nature by his exemplary manners, was
untimely snatched away, aged 24."

In the neighbourhood of Westham is a large rambling building known as
Priesthaus, which, once a monastery, is now a farm. Many curious relics
of its earlier state have lately been unearthed.

In Pevensey church, which has none of the interest of Westham, a little
collection of curiosities relating to Pevensey--a constable's staff, old
title deeds, seals, and so forth--is kept, in a glass case.

[Illustration: _Hurstmonceux Castle._]

[Sidenote: HURSTMONCEUX CASTLE]

If Pevensey is all that a castle ought to be, in shape, colour, position
and past, Hurstmonceux is the reverse; for it lies low, it has no
swelling contours, it is of red brick instead of grey stone, and never a
fight has it seen. But any disappointment we may feel is the fault not
of Hurstmonceux but of those who named it castle. Were it called
Hurstmonceux House, or Place, or Manor, or Grange, all would be well. It
is this use of the word castle (which in Sussex has a connotation
excluding red brick) that has done Hurstmonceux an injustice, for it is
a very imposing and satisfactory ruin, quite as interesti