of
knitted worsted stockings and Suffolk hempen cloth; but those trades are
now obsolete. The great Roger Bigod--one of the men who really did come
over with the Conqueror--built its castle, the ruins of which yet remain,
on a bold eminence on the river Waveney. 'The castle,' writes Dugdale,
'once the residence and stronghold of the Bigods, and by one of them
conceived to be impregnable, has become the habitation of helpless
poverty, many miserable hovels having been reared against its walls for
the accommodation of the lowest class.' The form of the castle appears
to have been octangular. The ruins of two round fortal towers and
fortresses of the west and south-west angles are still standing, as also
three sides of the great tower or keep, the walls of which are from 7 to
11 feet thick and from 15 to 17 feet high. In the midst of the ruins, on
what is called the Terrace, is a mineral spring, now disused, and near it
is a vault, or dungeon, of considerable depth. Detached portions of the
wall and their foundations are spread in all directions in the castle
grounds, a ridge of which, about 40 yards long, forms the southern
boundary of a bowling-green which commands delightful prospects. The
mounds of earth raised for the defence of the castle still retain much of
their original character, though considerably reduced in height. One of
them, facing the south, was partly removed in 1840, with the intention of
forming a cattle market. As a boy I often heard of the proud boast of
Hugh Bigod, second Earl, one of King Stephen's most formidable opponents,
as recorded by Camden:

'Were I in my castle of Bungay,
Upon the river Waveney,
I would not care for the King of Cockeney.'

In ancient times the Waveney was a much broader stream than it is now,
and Bungay was called _Le Bon Eye_, or the good island, then being nearly
surrounded by water. Hence the name, in the vulgar dialect, of Bungay.
To 'go to Bungay to get a new bottom' was a common saying in Suffolk.

In 1777 we find Hannah More writing to Garrick from Bungay, which she
describes as 'a much better town than I expected, very clean and
pleasant.' 'You are the favourite bard of Bungay'--at that time the
tragedians of the city of Norwich were staying there--'and,' writes
Hannah, who at that time had not become serious and renounced the
gaieties of the great world, 'the dramatic furore rages terribly among
the people, the more so, I presume, from be