io WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



flint stones, a prominent object, which can be seen 

 from far over the water. The churchyard is full of 

 fine old walnut trees ; it looks more like a wood than 

 a burial-ground, and it has enough room wherein to 

 bury the dead of twenty parishes. The interior of 

 the church is beautiful ; arches supported on pillars 

 rise to the roof in the centre and side aisles. The 

 windows of rare old stained glass throw many varied 

 tints on wall and pavement, in which are slabs inlaid 

 with beautiful brasses of a bygone day of knight and 

 lady, with hound at foot and hawk on wrist. Suits 

 of armour hang from the walls. The ends of the 

 farmers' stalls are carved in odd and familiar devices, 

 a fox and goose, a pig in a sitting posture, and others 

 equally comic and grotesque. The pews in which we 

 sat were so high-backed that you could not see the 

 occupants of the next one to your own without stand- 

 ing up. Why so large a church should have been 

 built where so few people were, no one knew. To 

 solve that question one would have to go many 

 generations back. Like the other churches on the 

 coast, it fronted the sea. Many a fisherman has re- 

 joiced at hearing the chimes ring out over the water 

 on a Sunday morning, whilst his boat was making the 

 harbour tide. 



In that same church as a boy I got in a pretty 



