TO LITTLEHAMPTON AND BOGNOR.

The route through these two places to Arundel is, of course, a very devious one; we merely took it in order to have a brief survey of each. The direct road from Worthing to Arundel is about ten miles, but contains not a single object of the least interest.

The road to Littlehampton is not an unpleasant one, and passes through two or three villages, one of which, West Preston, the burying-place of Selden, has a rather curious slender tower and spire.

LITTLEHAMPTON,

although a very small village until the commencement of the present century, is a place of some ancient renown. Before the Conquest, a small portion of it belonged to the Countess Goda, daughter of Ethelred II., and afterwards the manor was principally in the hands of the foreign abbeys of Almanische and Seez, and also of the Earl of Mount Gomeri. A farm still called Baillie's Court, in a portion of the parish termed Atherington, is mentioned in Pope Nicholas: "Balli de Ateriton, in Hampton, 197. 7s. 2d." The Empress Maud is supposed to have landed here in 1139, when she proceeded to Arundel Castle, and was hospitably received by Queen Adeliza, which led to a siege by Stephen *. Philip, Earl of Arundel, designing to escape from Queen Elizabeth's severe treatment of the Catholics, was arrested here in 1586 †. In 1644, was taken here (a spoil of a Dunkirk ship) a large painting of the martyrdom of the 11,000 virgins of Cologne (or rather, as is supposed, the two, from the mistake of Undecimilla, the name of Ursula's companion, for Undecim Millia), and placed in the Star Chamber.

The church has lately been rebuilt in a very neat and bold style, with a large body, nearly 100 feet long, and two small entrances in the centre of each side, similar to transepts. The tower rises very slightly above the roof, but has handsome pin

nacles, and three clock faces. The interior is simple, but neat, with a good altar-piece, and a very small organ. The handsome decorated east window from the old church and the font were saved by the exertions of Mr. Cartwright. In the favourite style, however, of Sussex, the tower has only one bell. This capacious and lofty erection only cost 26007.

Littlehampton has trebled its population since 1801, and now contains upwards of 1600 inhabitants. This is, of course, owing to its having become a resort for sea-bathing, for which it possesses sufficient facilities, and is rather a favourite place with those who prefer quiet and retirement. The air, both here and at Bognor, is very mild. The river Arun flows from hence to Arundel; and Littlehampton is, properly speaking, the harbour, though the embouchure of the arm of the sea is in the parish of Climping. The harbour was repaired, and piers erected, in the year 1796; it has now a considerable and lively traffic, and builds large vessels for the West India trade; a small fort was erected in 1739.

There are, at Littlehampton, a library, amateur band, baths, &c., and other accommodations. A benefit society exists here on very excellent principles. The Earl of Surrey has a seat at Littlehampton. We tried more than once to obtain for this little volume the patronage of this noble family, but could obtain no answer-a circumstance which we regretted; still we shall proceed to give a concise account of Arundel, with that impartiality, which, as we have tried our utmost to preserve, we hope we shall be allowed to have strictly adhered to.

BOGNOR.

The river at Littlehampton, which is about 125 yards broad, is crossed by a floating ferry-bridge, of curious construction, which accomplishes the transit in about two minutes, conveying two carriages at a time. It is brought over by winding up a chain, stretched from the opposite shore, round a windlass in the side of the bridge.

From Little Hampton to Bognor the principal villages

passed through are Yapton and Felpham; the church at the former contains this inscription

:

"Sacred to the memory of Stephen Roe, Citizen of London, born in this parish and buried at Islington, who by his will, dated Oct. 17, 1766, gave twelve hundred pounds (three per cent. South Sea annuities) to the poor of this parish, yearly for ever.

"The parent hence shall ne'er depart,
But love each babe with joyful heart,

To view this church stone.
Here gratitude delights to dwell,
And young and old shall always tell
The good that Roe has done.
Soft pity now shall comfort woe,
And ignorance have herself to know,
By bounty taught and fed.

Orphans and widows more and more,
And children yet unborn shall pour
Their blessings on his head."

Felpham, near Bognor, was the residence and burialplace of the celebrated Dr. Cyril Jackson, Dean of Christchurch, and of Hayley the poet. The epitaph for the former has simply the universally applicable sentence-“ Enter not into judgment," &c. Mr. Hayley's has the following lines written by Mrs. Opie, with whom, as well as her husband, he was on intimate terms of friendship.

"Hayley! beloved friend! tho' round thy head
The muse's wreath its graceful foliage spread;
Tho' Fame was long thy talents' rich reward,
And Fashion smiled upon Serena's bard;
Tho' thou wast form'd in polished courts to shine,
And learning's stores and playful wit were thine;
Tho' Cowper's self thy tuneful strains approved,
And praised the poet while the man he loved,—
Cowper, who lives in thy recording page,
To interest, charm, and teach the future age;-
Oh! not on these alone thy honours rest,
But, that thy name pale want and misery bless'd!
That, such thy glowing zeal for all mankind,
So vast thy charity, so unconfined,

Thy hand had spread a scene of blessing round,
If ample wealth thy ardent hopes had crown'd-

That, whatsoe'er thy bounty could impart,
Was given to teach the mind, and cheer the heart;
Neglected talent's drooping head to raise,
And lead young Genius on by generous praise.

Yet, bard beloved! this higher meed be thine,
Faith in thy Saviour cheer'd thy life's decline,-
Nor by that God on whom thy hopes relied
Was the sweet recompense of faith denied.

He gave thee strength to smile 'midst torturing pain,
And even the slightest murmur still restrain;
He cheer'd with pious hope thy dying bed;
He, on thy soul the Christian's sunshine shed;
And crown'd, to prove his favour's blest increase,
A life of kindness with a death of peace."

A punning epitaph by Mr. Hayley on a blacksmith at this place is recorded, but has not much point, independently of this not being a place for a jest. The best and most unexceptionable of these which we have ever seen is on an individual of the name of Strong, a carpenter, in the neighbourhood of London.

"Who many a sturdy oak had laid along,

Fell'd by death's surer hatchet, here lies Strong.
Posts oft he made, yet ne'er a place could get*,
And lived by railing, though he was no witt:
Old saws he had, although no antiquarian,
And stiles corrected, yet was no grammarian."

Bognor is situated in the parish of South Berstead, and contains about 1500 inhabitants. At the entrance, several neat villas excite rather high expectations, but the town itself is scattered

"Between you and I and the post" (though we never made one; they are not to be made in these times), gentle reader, we can sincerely sympathise with the worthy carpenter in this predicament.

What a great number of editors of periodicals are exactly in the same situation with the meritorious artificer! The misfortune is that they do not recognise this to be the case: they mistake the acerbity which they really do possess (and in which they are sadly encouraged by the once better-tempered public of John Bull's island, who have now a craving appetite for bitters,) for genuine and praiseworthy wit: whereas Mr. Strong did not conceive his humble wooden erections to be either rose-wood or cedar. -We have encountered accidentally a certain remarkably ill-natured penny publication, styled, though it is no credit to name it, “ Figaro in London,” in which the editor, after blaming some dramatic error, asserts that "if it be not speedily remedied, OUR CRITICAL AVALANCHE must descend on their heads!!" Mercy upon the shivering and to-be-shivered sufferers! "Threatened folks live long," to be sure, but their dread of the terrific impending punishment must be truly pitiable. The whole affair calls to mind the prime minister's character of a rebellion in the Isle of Man," A tempest in a tea-pot."

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and irregularly built. It owed its rise, about the year 1790, to a Sir John Hotham, a merchant of London, who erected the principal buildings. There are three or four good inns, and some respectable ranges of building, also baths, &c., and it may, doubtless, have its advantages to those who prefer quiet, and especially family parties. The oblong space open to the sea, somewhat ridiculously dignified with the appellation of "the Steyne," is neat and cheerful; here is the chapel of ease, a spacious cemented structure, and a small market. Binstead's library, opposite the sea, is pleasant, and has a lawn in front: beyond, towards the east, is a small battery; another library, farther inland, bears the title of having been patronised by the Princess Augusta. A physician and three surgeons are resident in Bognor.

A few miles to the west of Bognor is the promontory and church of Selsea, forming the opposite extremity of the spacious bay, which Beachey Head terminates to the east. This was the place where Christianity was first preached to the South Saxons by Wilfrid, an exiled bishop of Lindisfarn, to whom this peninsula was given by King Ædelwalch about the year 680, when he immediately liberated 250 persons then in a state of slavery*. He was confirmed in the possession of this tract, containing 5000 acres, by the conqueror of Ædelwalch, Ceadwalla, who afterwards, struck with remorse for his wars and bloodshed, made a pilgrimage to Rome, where he received baptism, and died, having first laid the foundation of and endowed the Bishoprick of Selsey. At this place the see continued uninterrupted till the year 1081, when William the Conqueror, in accordance with his plan in other places, on the advice of an Ecclesiastical Council, presided over by Lanfranc, Archbishop of Canterbury, removed it from this village to the town of Chichester.

Not so dreadful, it is to be hoped, as that of the truly ruthless factory masters, in the north of England, compared with whose connived at, if not direct tyranny (now it is to be hoped on the eve of abolition), all West Indian tales sink into insignificance.