of squared grit and Portland stone, bonded at intervals by double rows of large flat tiles. Within, the facing was chiefly composed of flints. Much of this facing remains, and the whole ground within and around the walls is still strewn with pieces of tiles and broken pottery. At intervals along the walls occur square towers, solid at the foundations, hollow in the middle, and united again to the main wall at the top. Each tower seems to have contained a room, with loopholes for watchers.

Fragments and relics of various kinds have been discovered from time to time at Richborough. Of the enormous quantity of coins found there (it has been calculated that not less than 140,000 have come to light), the greater number belong to the ten years (A.D. 287-297) during which the island maintained its independence under Carausius and Allectus-when Rutupia was, no doubt, a place of great importance and much frequented.

Passing southward from Richborough and Sandwich, we have on our left the "Downs"-the largest natural harbour of refuge existing, about eight miles in length and six wide, with about twenty miles of good anchorage. They are, no doubt, as Defoe suggests, "a down bed to repose in;" but the name is derived from the "dunes," or sand-heaps, which lie along the main shore, and form also the natural breakwater of the Goodwins, the eastern boundary of the Downs. These quicksands-" a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie buried "*-are visible from the shore at low water: when, indeed, it is possible to visit and to walk over them in safety, except in certain ominous, lake-like places, the especial property of the "water nixes." Seamen assert that if a ship of the largest size were to strike on the Goodwins, she would be completely swallowed up by the quicksands in a few days; but modern skill and science, improvements in navigation, and the use of steam, have rendered them much less formidable than formerly. In the great storm of 1703, thirteen men-of-war were lost on the Goodwins, and nearly the whole of their crews perished. A fringe of breakers marks the line of the sands as we look toward them from the low coast at Deal and Walmer, or from the chalk cliffs that rise beyond in the direction of Dover. The scene is striking enough when a vast fleet of merchantmen which have been delayed in the Downs by contrary winds are slowly crowding out of them; and the seaward prospect is never without its beauty or

its grandeur. At Walmer the special object of interest is the castle, the official residence of the Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, with which many famous names are associated. Here Pitt passed much of his time, and here, full of years and honours, died the "Great" Duke of Wellington. Thus we advance toward Dover, attended by the solemn music that floats upward from the beach, until the dark towers of the castle rise up to greet us, and one of the most striking views in Kent opens as we descend the steep hill into the town.

The great feature of Dover (the little stream of the Dour, the Celtic Dwr, "water," gave its name to the Roman Dubræ, whence the modern Dover), at least from Norman

times, must always have been the towering castle alongside of whose outworks we descend into the town. The great keep is one of those massive Norman structures, probably dating from the reign of the Red King, of which many examples remain in England, although few are more striking than this one of Dover, its sister keep at Rochester, and the famous "Tower of London." They mark and are the distinct badge of the Conquest"the sign of the dominion of the stranger." Such great strongholds of stone were unknown in England before that period; but at Dover, as elsewhere, the Norman castle was raised on English foundations, and within dykes and trenches, which are perhaps older than the first coming of Jute or of Saxon to this country. The English "burh," however, the guarded fortress on its mound, meant protection and not oppression; and, as has already been said, no part of the coast needed more careful watching than this which was

under the control of the Cinque Ports. Accordingly, we find earthworks, of which the origin may be Celtic or Roman, marking the principal heights on either side of the Channel, and almost answering one to another as we pass from Dover to Hastings, or from Calais to Boulogne and Etaples. But no such medieval castle as that of Dover rose elsewhere along this English coast, nor anywhere on that opposite; and its great apparent strength combined with the majesty of its position to impress strangers with the belief that it was hardly the work of human hands. "It was built by evil spirits," says the Bohemian, Leo von Rotzmital, "and is so strong that in no other part of Christendom can anything be found like it." The north turret of the keep rises 468 feet above the sea-level; and from it the line of cliffs between the two Forelands, and the French coast from Gravelines to Boulogne, are traceable in clear weather. It has been truly said that "those aditus insula mirificis molibus muniti, which well-nigh baffled Cæsar, of which Cicero writes to Atticus, and which suggested the masses of rock that accompany the figure of Britannia on Roman coins (first occurring on a large brass of Hadrian), are nowhere better seen or more impressive." The Pharos, or lighthouse, within the walls of the castle, is most probably a Roman work, and the foundations of one resembling it have been found on the opposite cliffs of Boulogne. The chapel close by, which has been restored, has also been called Roman; but it dates really from the tenth or eleventh century, although Roman materials were used in the building of it.

One of the best views of the castle is gained from the western heights, the opposite boundary of the harbour. These heights are more lofty than the cliff on which the castle stands; and a deep valley divides them from Hay, or Shakespeare's Cliff

whose high and bending head

Looks fearfully on the confined deep."

How far this cliff has been rightly named is at least uncertain; and the famous description can hardly have been designed as a strict copy from nature. a strict copy from nature. Wild larkspur grows

in the crevices, and samphire may yet be gathered there; but there are no choughs, and the crows are not much larger than beetles. On the whole, the charm which has been thrown over the scene by its connection with Shakespeare's greatest tragedy, is more powerful than any to be derived from the actual prospect.

Between the heights lies the bustling town of Dover-half a watering-place for pleasure-seekers, half a great port at and from which steamers and trading-vessels are constantly arriving and departing. As we look down on it from the high ground, the mixture of old and new-the modern shops and terraces, the venerable churches and hospitals, and the mass of narrowing streets that crowds upwards into the valley-tell of a long-continued existence, and of a prosperity almost unbroken since the day when