stings
castle--Hollington Rural and Charles Lamb--Fairlight Glen and the
Lover's Seat--Bexhill.

Brighton, as we have seen, was made by Dr. Russell. It was Dr. Baillie,
some years later, who discovered the salubrious qualities of Hastings.
In 1806, when the Duke of Wellington (then Major-General Wellesley) was
in command of twelve thousand soldiers encamped in the neighbourhood,
and was himself living at Hastings House, the population of the town was
less than four thousand; to-day, with St. Leonard's and dependant
suburbs, Hastings covers several square miles. With the exception of the
little red and grey region known as Old Hastings, between Castle Hill
and East Hill, the same charge of a lack of what is interesting can be
brought against Hastings as against Brighton; but whereas Brighton has
the Downs to offer, Hastings is backed by country of far less charm.
Perhaps her greatest merit is her proximity to Winchelsea and Rye.

Hastings, once one of the proudest of the Cinque Ports, has no longer
even a harbour, its pleasure yachts, which carry excursionists on brief
Channel voyages, having to be beached just like rowing boats. The
ravages of the sea, which have so transformed the coast line of Sussex,
have completely changed this town; and from a stately seaport she has
become a democratic watering place. Beneath the waves lie the remains of
an old Priory and possibly of not a few churches.

Hastings has been very nigh to history more than once, but she has
escaped the actual making of it. Even the great battle that takes its
name from the town was fought seven miles away, while the Duke of
Normandy, as we have seen, landed as far distant as Pevensey, ten miles
in the west. But he used Hastings as a victualling centre. Again and
again, in its time, Hastings has been threatened with invasion by the
French, who did actually land in 1138 and burned the town. And one
Sunday morning in 1643, Colonel Morley of Glynde, the Parliamentarian,
marched in with his men and confiscated all arms. But considering its
warlike mien, Hastings has done little.

[Sidenote: THE ADMIRAL'S MOTHER]

Nor can the seaport claim any very illustrious son. Titus Oates, it is
true, was curate of All Saints church in 1674, his father being vicar;
and among the inhabitants of the old town was the mother of Sir
Cloudesley Shovel, the admiral. A charming account of a visit paid to
her by her son is given in De la Prynne's diary: "I hear