Public conveyances run from Brighton to Shoreham several times each day by Portslade and Southwick; the railway to Worthing also follows the road and little will be lost if the traveller goes direct to New Shoreham. Portslade and Southwick churches have some points of interest, the latter a one time church of the Knights Templar, but they are not sufficient compensation for the melancholy and depressing route. After passing Hove the road is cut off from the sea by the eastern arm of Shoreham Harbour, and there follows a line of gas works, coal sidings and similar eyesores, almost all the way to Shoreham town. However, the explorer will be amply recompensed when he arrives at the old port at the mouth of the Adur.

The original Saxon town had its beginnings at Old Shoreham, but, as the harbour silted up, the importance of the new settlement under Norman rule, exceeded all other havens between Portsmouth and Rye. The overlords were the powerful De Braose family, who have left their name and fame over a great extent of the Sussex seaboard.

King John is known to have landed here after the death of Richard, and Charles II sailed from Shoreham after the Battle of Worcester. The fugitive came across country accompanied by Lord Wilmot, and at Brighton fell in with the Captain Tattersell, whose grave we have seen there. An arrangement was made by which he was to leave Shoreham in the captain’s vessel; this was done the next morning and the King in due time reached Fécamp safely. At the restoration the gallant captain received an annual pension of one hundred pounds.

Shoreham is decidedly not the town to visit for an hour or two or for half a day. No one can possibly gain a correct impression of these smaller English towns by a casual call, as it were, between trains. A short stay, or two or three day visits (not on “early closing” day) is the least one can do before claiming to know the place.

New Shoreham is almost certain to disappoint on first acquaintance. In fact it may be described as mean and shabby! Other and competent judges have felt the charm of this old Seagate and one Algernon Charles Swinburne has immortalized it in his glowing lines On the South Coast":

“Shoreham, clad with the sunset glad and grave with glory that death reveres.”

Shoreham church is second only to the Cathedral at Chichester and Boxgrove Priory in interest. As will be seen by the fragments in the churchyard a nave once made the building cruciform, and its proportions then would not have disgraced a small cathedral. A movement has been on foot for some time to rebuild the nave on the old site and an offertory box for this purpose will be seen within the church.

The prevailing effect of both exterior and interior is of solemn and stately age. The upper part of the tower is Transitional with certain later additions. The base of the tower, the choir transepts, and the fragment still remaining of the nave are Norman and Transitional of very noble and dignified proportions.

The vaulting will be noticed. This is Early English, also the beautiful ornament on the capitals and the interesting mason’s marks on the pillars. The marble font is a very good specimen of the square type common in this locality. A brass in the nave of a merchant and his lady should be noticed, also a piscina with trefoil ornament and a modern window in the north transept to the infants who died between 1850 and 1875. There are a number of memorials to the Hooper family hereabouts. In this portion of the building the election of parliamentary candidates once took place.

The church owes nothing of its stateliness to a past connected with priory or monastery, it has always been a parish church and is of additional interest thereby. That it always will hold this rank is another matter; in these days of new sees one cannot tell that the parish church of to-day will not be the cathedral of to-morrow. Certainly Shoreham would wear the title with dignity.

There are many quaint corners left in the town (which since 1910 has been officially styled “Shoreham by Sea “), but the individuality of the place is best seen on the quay where a little shipbuilding is still carried on; in the reign of Edward III it supplied the Crown with a fleet of twenty-six sail. The figure-head sign of the “Royal George” Inn may be noticed; this was salvaged from the ill-fated ship of that name which sunk in Portsmouth Harbour.

The Norfolk Suspension Bridge, still retaining its old-fashioned toll, carries the Worthing road across the river, at high tide a fine estuary, but at low a feeble trickle lost in a waste of mud. The view of the town from the bridge is very charming, especially in the evening light.

At Old Shoreham, a mile up stream, is another bridge which, with the church, is the most painted, sketched and photographed of all Sussex scenes; few years pass without it being represented on the walls of the Academy. This bridge is a very ancient wooden structure which has been patched and mended from time to time into a condition of extreme picturesqueness. The bridge leads to the “Sussex Pad,” a noted smuggling hostelry in a situation ideal for the purpose, and then on to Lancing and Sompting.

The sturdy and grey old church which has seen so many centuries of change and decay in the life around it, which has even seen the very face of nature alter in the haven beneath, has not changed in any essential since the great De Braose of the eleventh century built it on the foundations of its Saxon predecessor, whose massive walls still support a goodly part of the Norman building. Almost the whole of the upper part of the church is Norman, though the chancel appears to have been restored at a later date. Note the fine pointed screen and the rich moulding of the arches and door, also the carved tye-beam above the great arch which leads to the crossing. The nave is curiously dark, through the absence of windows; here may be seen the remains of the Saxon wall projecting beyond the line of the newer work. A low side window near the southwest corner has been variously described as a confessional, a hagioscope, and a leper window.

The few small houses to the south of the church are all that now remain to show where the one time port stood; though none of the existing buildings are contemporary with that period.

[Illustraton: NEW SHOREHAM.]

There is now a choice of ways. The direct route to Worthing goes across the Norfolk Bridge and then by South Lancing ("Bungalow Town “) and calls for no comment other than its fine marine views. The valley road to Bramber and Steyning we propose to travel presently, and we will now cross the old bridge by the “Sussex Pad,” lately rebuilt. Half a mile from the inn the Down road to the right leads direct to the prominent group of buildings on a spur of the Downs which have been constantly in view during the walk from Shoreham. St. Nicholas’, or Lancing, College was founded in 1849 by Nicholas Woodard, an Anglican priest. It is part of a larger scheme, other colleges in connexion being at Hurstpierpoint and Ardingly. The original school, established in 1848 at Shoreham, may still be seen at the corner of Church Street; it is now a laundry. The buildings are dominated most effectively by the great pile of the college chapel 97 feet from roof to floor. The general effect is most un-English and gives the west side of the Adur an air reminiscent of Normandy or Picardy.

Lancing is supposed to be derived from Wlencing, one of the sons of Ella. The church, originally Norman, has been much altered at various times and is mainly Early English. The remains of an Easter Sepulchre may be seen in the north wall of the chancel and at the door the mutilated fragment of a stoup.

At the third mile from Shoreham is Sompting, famous for its church and well known to Worthing visitors, who have a pleasant walk of about two and a half miles by shady road and field path through Broadwater. The church stands in a group of elms on the slope to the north of the village. The tower and part of the chancel are undoubtedly Saxon, the remainder of the church having been rebuilt in Norman and Early English times. Notice the characteristic bands of stonework which run round the tower and the long capitals of the central ribs. The gabled spire is almost unique in this country and will awaken memories of Alsace for those who know that land. A similar spire may be seen in another Down country, at Sarratt in Hertfordshire, and a modern example at Southampton. Between the north side of the tower and the nave are the remains of a chapel erected by the Peverells. The interior of the church is equally uncommon and interesting, and the distressing newness which follows most restorations is not seen here, the work of the restorer, Mr. Carpenter, having been most careful and sympathetic. The outline of the original windows may be traced in the chancel which is now lit by Perpendicular openings. Over the altar is a tabernacle, not very well seen. Notice the piscina with triangular arch, and a tomb, it is supposed, of Richard Bury, dating from the time of Henry VII; also the curious corbel face in the east aisle of the vaulted north transept. The south transept is below the level of the nave; here are two mutilated pieces of sculpture, representing Our Lord with a book and a seated bishop with his crozier. The font is placed in a recess which formerly held an altar. The church became the property of the Knights Templar and a portion of the manor was held by the Abbey of Fécamp; the adjoining manor-house being still known as Sompting Abbotts; this house was for a short period the home of Queen Caroline.

Enjoyable rambles may be taken by any of the numerous by-roads which lead northwards into the heart of the Downs by Roman Ditch, Beggar’s Bush and Cissbury. It is proposed, however, to leave a more particular description of this country to that portion of our longer route to Worthing via Washington, for which we must return to Shoreham, and now to take the road which runs by the Adur to Upper Beeding. On the way will be noticed the little church at Coombe backed by the Downs; this has an unmistakable Saxon window in the nave, and a medieval crucifix discovered in 1877. Higher up the river is the little old church of Botolph’s, which may be Saxon so far as the chancel arch is concerned, Both these churches are very old and quite untouched by the restorer. At Upper Beeding the Priory of Sele once stood where is now the vicarage; the Early English church is of small interest and need not detain us.

Bramber (Brymburgh) Castle holds the same position for the valley of the Adur that Lewes does for the Ouse and Arundel for the Arun. The stronghold antedates by many centuries the great Norman with whose name it is always coupled. Some authorities claim Bramber to have been the Portus Adurni that we have already connected with Aldrington; however that may be, Roman remains have been discovered here in the form of bridge foundations and it is more than possible that a British fort stood either on or near the hillock where William de Braose improved and rebuilt the then existing castle; this, with the barony, was granted to him by the Conqueror, and the family continued for many years to be the most powerful in Mid-Sussex. After the line failed, the property went to the Mowbrays and afterwards to the Howards, in whose hands it still remains. It was through this connexion that the title of Duke of Norfolk came to the holders of Arundel. Thomas Mowbray was made first Duke in 1388, and when the line ceased and the property changed hands the title went with it. It is possible that the army of the Parliament destroyed the castle in the Civil War, though no actual records prove this. A skirmish took place here between the Royalists and their opponents and is described in a letter addressed to a certain Samuel Jeake of Rye by one of the latter:

“The enemy attempted Bramber Bridge, but our brave Carleton and Evernden with his Dragoons and our horse welcomed them with drakes and muskets, sending some eight or nine men to hell, I feare, and one trooper to Arundell prisoner, and one of Captain Evernden’s Dragoons to heaven.” It was the scene of a narrow escape for Charles II in his flight to Brighton. The poor remnants of the Castle are now an excuse for picnickers who are not always reverent, in point of tidiness, towards what was once a palace of the Saxon Kings.

Bramber village is most picturesque and attractive; its size renders it difficult to believe that within living memory it returned two members to Parliament. Some amusing stories are told of the exciting elections in olden days, when as much as L1,000 were offered and refused for a single vote. This “borough” once returned Wilberforce the Abolitionist, of whom it is told that on passing through and being acquainted with the name of the village exclaimed “Bramber? why that’s the place I’m member for.”

The church lies close under the south wall of the castle; only the nave and tower remain of the original cruciform building. Although the arches are Norman and show the original frescoes, a claim was made by Dr. Green, Rector in 1805, that “in rebuilding the church at his own expense about twenty years before, he had no assistance except that the Duke of Rutland and Lord Calthorpe, joint proprietors of the borough, each gave L25, Magdalen College L50 and Mr. Lidbetter, an opulent local farmer, L20; but the Duke of Norfolk, Lord of the Manor, nothing!” This “rebuilding” refers to the re-erection of the tower arches, the space between being converted into a chancel. New windows in Norman style were inserted in 1871 to bring the east end into harmony with the nave.

St. Mary’s is the first house to be seen on approaching the village from the east. It is a beautiful specimen of a timber-built Sussex house; notice the open iron-work door with its queer old bell-pull.

Every visitor should inspect the quaint museum of taxidermy in the village street; here guinea-pigs may be seen playing cricket, rats playing dominoes and rabbits at school; the lifelike and humorous attitudes of the little animals reflect much credit on the artist.

Steyning is a short mile farther on our way (both Bramber and Steyning are stations on the Brighton Railway). This was another borough until 1832 but, unlike its neighbour, it was of considerable importance in the early middle ages and at the Domesday survey there were two churches here. The one remaining is of great interest; built by the Abbey of Fécamp to whom Edward the Confessor gave Steyning, it was evidently never completed; preparations were made for a central tower and the nave appears to be unfinished. The styles range from Early Norman to that of the sixteenth century when the western tower was built. Particular notice should be taken of the pier-arches which are very beautifully decorated; also the south door.

The original church was founded by St. Cuthman. Travelling from the west with his crippled mother, whom he conveyed in a wheelbarrow, he was forced to mend the broken cords with elder twigs. Some haymakers in a field jeered at him, and on that field, now called the Penfold, a shower has always fallen since whenever the hay is drying. The elder twigs finally gave way where Steyning was one day to be and here Cuthman decided to halt and build a shelter for his mother and himself. Afterwards he raised a wooden church and in this the saint was buried. The father of the great Alfred was interred here for a time, his remains being afterwards taken to Winchester when his son made that city the capital of united England, though the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle asserts that the King was buried at Worcester.

Steyning was once known as Portus Cuthmanni and to this point the tidal estuary of the Adur then reached. There are a number of fine old houses in the little town, some with details which show them to date from the fifteenth century. The gabled house in Church Street was built by William Holland of Chichester as a Grammar School in 1614; it is known as “Brotherhood Hall.” The vicarage has many interesting details of the sixteenth century and in the garden are two crosses of very early date, probably Saxon.

The bygone days of Steyning seem to have been almost as quiet as its modern history. A burning of heretics took place here in 1555; and the troops of the Parliament took quiet possession of the town when besieging near-by Bramber, but Steyning had not the doubtful privilege of a castle and so its days were comparatively uneventful.

The main road may be left at the north end of Steyning by a turning on the left which rises in a mile and a half to Wiston ("Wisson”) Park and church; this is the best route for the ascent of Chanctonbury. The park commands fine views and is in itself very beautiful; the house dates from 1576, though several alterations have spoilt the purity of its style. This manor was once in the hands of the de Braose family, from whom it passed by marriage to the Shirleys, another famous family. Sir Thomas Shirley built the present house about 1578. It was Sir Hugh Shirley to whom Shakespeare referred in King Henry IV.

“Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like
Never to hold it up again. The spirits
Of Shirley, Stafford, Blount, are in my arms.”

His great-grandsons were the famous Shirley brothers, whose adventures were so wonderful that their deeds were acted in a contemporary play. One went to Persia to convert the Shah and bring him in on the side of the Christian nations against the Ottomans. On the way he discovered coffee! His younger brother, who accompanied him, remained in Persia and married a Circassian princess. The elder, after being taken prisoner by the Turks, was liberated by the efforts of James I and then imprisoned in the Tower by the same King for his interference in the Levant trade. Ruined in pocket and with a broken heart he sold Wiston and retired to the Isle of Wight. The estates soon afterwards passed to the Görings, who still own them.

Wiston church, which stands in the park and close to the house, contains several monuments to the Shirleys and one of a child, possibly a son of Sir John de Braose; a splendid brass of the latter lies on the floor of the south chapel; it is covered with the words ‘Jesu Mercy.’ There are a number of dilapidated monuments and pieces of sculpture remaining in the church, which has been spoilt, and some of the details and monuments actually destroyed, by ignorant and careless “restoration.”

To the north-west of Wiston Park is Buncton Chapel, a little old building in which services are occasionally held. The walls show unmistakable Roman tiles.

Chanctonbury (locally Chinkerbury"), one of the most commanding and dignified of the Down summits, rises 783 feet on the west of Wiston; the climb may be made easier by taking the winding road opposite the church. The ring which is such a bold landmark for so many miles around makes a view from the actual top difficult to obtain. The whole of the Weald is in sight and also the far-off line of the North Downs broken by the summits of Holmbury and Leith Hill with Blackdown to the left. In the middle distance is St. Leonards Forest, and away to the right Ashdown Forest with the unmistakable weird clump of firs at Wych Cross. But it is the immediate foreground of the view which will be most appreciated. The prehistoric entrenchment is filled with the beeches planted by Mr. Charles Goring of Wiston when a youth (about 1760). In his old age (1828) Mr. Goring wrote the following:

“How oft around thy Ring, sweet Hill,
A Boy, I used to play,
And form my plans to plant thy top
On some auspicious day.
How oft among thy broken turf
With what delight I trod,
With what delight I placed those twigs
Beneath thy maiden sod.
And then an almost hopeless wish
Would creep within my breast,
Oh! could I live to see thy top
In all its beauty dress’d.
That time’s arrived; I’ve had my wish,
And lived to eighty-five;
I’ll thank my God who gave such grace
As long as e’er I live.
Still when the morning sun in Spring,
Whilst I enjoy my sight,
Shall gild thy new-clothed Beech and sides,
I’ll view thee with delight.”

Chanctonbury must have had an overpowering effect on our ancestors; the correspondent quoted below perhaps saw the hill through one of the mists which come in from the sea and render every object monstrous or mysterious.

“Chanckbury, the Wrekin or Cenis of the South Downs, is said to be 1,000 perpendicular yards above the level of the sea; on the summum jugum, or vertex, is a ring of trees planted by Mr. Goring of Whiston, and if they were arrived at maturity, would form no indifferent imitation of an ancient Druidical grove.” (Gentleman’s Magazine, 1819.)

The descent from the ring is made past a pond whose origin is unknown; judging by its appearance it may well have supplied the men who first occupied the fortifications on the hill top. The white path below eventually leads, by a narrow and steep gully, very slippery after rain, directly to the village of Washington on the Horsham-Worthing high road. The church stands above the village in a picturesque situation, but is of little interest. With the exception of the tower, it was rebuilt in 1866. Here is a sixteenth-century tomb of John Byne from the old building, and in the churchyard may be seen the grave of Charles Goring. Hillaire Belloc has immortalized the village inn thus:

“They sell good beer at Haslemere
And under Guildford Hill;
At little Cowfold, as I’ve been told,
A beggar may drink his fill.
There is good brew at Amberley too.
And by the bridge also;
But the swipes they takes in at the Washington Inn
Is the very best beer I know.”

A great find of silver coins of the time of the last Saxon Kings was made in 1866 on Chancton Farm; a ploughman turning up an urn containing over three thousand. This was an effective rebuke to those who laugh at “old wives’ tales,” for a local tradition of buried treasure must have been in existence for eight hundred years.

A motor-bus runs here from Worthing and then westwards as far as Storrington on the branch road to Pulborough. Storrington has almost the status of a small town and lays claim to fame as the birthplace of Tom Sayers, the prize-fighter, and of an equally famous prince of commerce in whose honour a metropolitan street has recently been renamed “Maple” (late “London”) Street. The church has been almost spoilt by “restorers,” but there are fine tombs by Westmacott and a brass of the sixteenth century. Near the church is a modern Roman Catholic Priory; the beautiful chapel is always open and should be seen. It is, however, for its fine situation opposite Kithurst Hill and its convenience as a centre from which to explore this beautiful section of the Down country that Storrington is important to the explorer of Downland. Within easy reach are the quiet stretches of the Arun at Pulborough and Amberley, and Parham is within three miles. The line of lofty hills on the south are seldom visited, most tourists being content with Chanctonbury. Near the Downs, about a mile south-east, lies the little church of Sullington under its two great yews, very primitive and at present unrestored; most of the work seems to be Early English. Here is an effigy of an unknown knight, also an old stone coffin. A footpath leads direct to Washington where we turn towards the sea, climbing by the Worthing road the narrow pass which cuts between the Downs and drops to Findon. This is another beautifully placed village with a Transitional and Early English church in an adjacent wood and, for strangers, rather difficult to find. In the chancel is a doorway in a curious position between two seats. A Norman arch, probably the relic of an older building, fills the opening of a transept on the south side. A former rector in 1276 must have broken all records in the matter of pluralities; besides Findon he held livings in Salisbury, Hereford, Rochester, Coventry, two in Lincolnshire, and seven in Norfolk, also holding a canonry of St. Paul’s and being Master of St. Leonard’s Hospital in York.

Findon is noted for its racing stables; the hills and combes on the east forming an ideal galloping ground. The walks over Black Patch and Harrow Hill are among the best in the central Downs. East of the village a path leads to Cissbury Ring (603 feet). “Cissa’s Burgh” was the Saxon name for this prehistoric fortress which was adapted and used by the Romans, as certain discoveries have proved. Cissa was a son of Ella and has given his name to Chichester also. The foundations of a building may be seen in dry summers within the rampart; this is probably Roman. On the western slopes are some pits which may be the remains of a British village. But stone weapons, some of rude form and others highly finished, prove the greater antiquity of the camp. About sixty acres are enclosed within the trench, and approaches to it were made on the north, east and south. Cissbury is thus the largest entrenchment on the Downs and must have been one of the most important in the south. The views seawards are very fine and the stretch of coast is one of the longest visible from any part of the range Below the southern side of the fosse, on the slope that brings us down to Broadwater, is the reputed site of a Roman vineyard; the locality still goes by this name and certainly the situation, a slope facing south and protected from cold winds, is an ideal one for the culture of the grape.

Broadwater is now a suburb of Worthing. Here is a very interesting Transitional-Norman cruciform church, at one time magnificent in its appurtenances, no fewer than six chantry chapels being attached; the remains of these were done away with in the early nineteenth century. Note the old altar stone in the floor of the chancel, also on the exterior north wall a dedication cross in flints. In the chancel is a brass to John Mapleton, 1432, chancellor of Joan of Navarre, and there are two fine tombs, one of Thomas Lord de la Warre (1526) and the other of the ninth of that line (1554). John Bunnett, interred in 1734, aged 109, had six wives, three of whom he married and buried after he was 100! The church has a modern association which will be of interest to all lovers of wild nature; here in 1887 Richard Jeffries was buried. One cannot but think that the great naturalist would have been more fittingly laid to rest in one of the lonely little God’s-acres which nestle in the Downs he loved so well.

Worthing until the end of the eighteenth century was a mere suburb of Broadwater; its actual beginnings as a watering place were nearly contemporary with those of Brighton. When the Princess Amelia came here in 1799 the fortunes of the town were made, and ever since it has steadily, though perhaps slowly, increased in popular favour. The three miles of “front,” which is all that fifty per cent, of its visitors know of Worthing, are unimposing and in places mean and rather depressing in architecture, but this is atoned for by the stretch of hard clean sands laid bare at half tide, a pleasant change after the discomfort of Brighton shingle. As a residential town, pure and simple, Worthing is rapidly overtaking its great rival, and successful business men make their money in the one and live in the other, as though the Queen of Watering-places were an industrial centre. Worthing has a great advantage in its fine old trees; as a matter of fact the place would be unbearably arid and glaring without them in the summer months, for it has undoubtedly proved its claim to be the sunniest south coast resort; a claim at one time or other put forth by all. The most convincing proof to the sceptical stranger will be the miles of glass houses for the culture of the tomato with which the town is surrounded. Its chief attraction lies in the number of interesting places which can easily be reached in a short time and with little trouble. The Downs here are farther off than those at Brighton, but are of much greater interest, and public motors take one easily and cheaply into their heart as we have already shown. The South Coast Railway runs east and west to Shoreham and Arundel, reaching those super-excellent towns in less than half an hour; and of the walks in the immediate neighbourhood, all have goals which well repay the effort expended in reaching them.

Sompting, which can be combined with Broadwater as an excursion, has already been described; we therefore turn westward again and passing the suburb of Heene, now called West Worthing, arrive, in two and a half miles from the Town Hall, at the village of Goring. Its rebuilt church is of no interest. Here Richard Jeffries died in the August of 1887. A mile farther is West Ferring with a plain Early English church; notice the later Perpendicular stoup at the north door and the piscina, which has a marble shelf. The Manor House is on the site of an ancient building in which St. Richard of Chichester lived after his banishment by Henry III, and here the saint is said to have miraculously fed three-thousand poor folk with bread only sufficient for a thirtieth of that number.

A pleasant ramble through the lanes north of the village leads to Highdown Hill, perhaps the most popular excursion from Worthing; the top has an earthwork probably dating from the stone age. Human remains of a later date were found here in 1892, also coins, weapons and personal ornaments belonging to the time of the Roman occupation. The “Miller’s Tomb” is on the side nearest Worthing; it has representations of Time and Death with some verses composed by the miller, John Olliver. A cottage on the other side of the hill stands on the site of the mill. The view is particularly fine both Downwards and seawards, though the hill is not half the altitude of Cissbury. Northwards are the beautiful woods of Castle Goring, once the residence of the Shelleys, through which we may walk to Clapham and Patching, villages on southern spurs of the Downs; the latter has a restored Early English church with a very beautiful modern reredos. Clapham has a Transitional church containing memorials of the Shelley family. Notice the blocked-up Norman arch which proves the existence of an earlier building. On the south is a venerable farmhouse, ancient and picturesque.

The return journey to Worthing may be taken through Salvington, passing the ruins of Durrington chapel; at the south end of the village at the cottage named Lacies John Selden was born in 1584. On the door post is a Latin inscription said to have been composed by him when ten years old; it runs thus:

Gratus, honeste, mihi, non claudar, initio sedebis,
Fur abeas non sum facta soluta tibi.

Translated by Johnson:

Walk in and welcome; honest friends, repose;
Thief, get thee hence, to thee I’ll not unclose.

Selden’s father was a wandering minstrel and the birthplace of the great jurist was humble even for those days.

A short walk southwards brings us to West Tarring, which is practically a suburb of Worthing. Here is a very fine Early English and Perpendicular church with a lofty spire. Notice the beautiful modern mosaics depicting the Prophets and Apostles. Also the old miséréré seats and an ancient muniment chest. The window under the tower is in memory of Robert Southey whose daughter married a onetime vicar of Tarring. Another incumbent here was Stripe the historian.

A peculiarity noticeable in many country churchyards may be remarked here the reluctance to bury on the north side of the church (though strangely enough this has been reversed at near-by Ferring). In many churchyards, where the ground is as extensive on the north side as on the others, the grave digger’s spade has left it either quite untouched or the graves are few in number and mostly of recent date.

West Tarring was once a market town and several good specimens of medieval and Tudor domestic architecture still exist. It was once a “peculiar” of the Archbishops of Canterbury, and the remains of the archiepiscopal palace may be seen in the school house on the east of the church. In the rectory orchard close by is the “columbarium,” or all that is left of it. Becket is said to have occupied the palace. The celebrated fig orchard is supposed to have been raised from slips planted by him, though another story has it that the original planter was St. Richard. The present orchard is of much interest and dates from the year of the “forty-five,” though it can well be believed that some of the trees are older; the venerable patriarch in the centre is known as “St. Thomas,” but this is of course impossible. A most remarkable occurrence takes place annually at the ripening of the fruit; a small bird similar to, if not identical with the Beccafico ("Figeater”) of Italy visits the orchards here and at Sompting, stays a few weeks and then departs until the next season; it is seen in no other part of England.