m ^H ;*>*-. ^^H SLIGHT SKETCH yfcttttt of Wuv&t* BY A NATIVE OF THIS VILLAGE. Figliuoli carissimi ! di questo mio villagio natale ! Tutto che ho scritto non e molto e per voi Espressamente per la vostra istruzione Studiatelo bene ed accettatelo come un tributo Delia mia sincera amicizia Ricordatevi di me quando saro parti dal' mondo. La luce dei mici occhi e sin ora oscurata, Amici mici non posso piu ! ! PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY W. RANDELL, H(JRST-MR-?OINT. 1826. • SKETCH OF HURST. Stranger ! you are here admitted to a View of the beautiful Scenery of Hurst, on a fine day, in June, and after a pleasant walk through and about the Village, you are further admitted to the honor of being present at one of its evening parties, to join in a quadrille and choose your party, among the grave or the gay, as best suits your years or inclination. Yes; I am indeed a native of this village — one, who in hap- pier days, has often gazed with admiration on the beauty of its surrounding scenery — climb'd ever) hill — explored every path — listened with delight to the melody of its birds — and gathered of every flower. Seven years ago I might have said, there is scarcely a house I have not been into, or a person with whom T am not well acquainted, but seven years in this age of rapid improvement, makes great alterations every where ; sad, and many have they been in my own family, so that in that short space of time, I am become in a great degree as it were a stranger at home — unknowing and unknown ; few there are, who looking round the circle of their acquaintance,may notin that time see much desolation, many a vacancy, though at the same 4 SKETCH OF HURST. time he may find occasion for much rejoicing ; good and evil are seldom far asunder. That kind friendly affectionate feel- ing, so general among the inhabitants, common I suppose to all villages more or less, is particularly observable here, as I have myself most frequently and abundantly proved, and do as gratefully acknowledge ; it reminds me of Mrs.Barbauld's sim- ple and pretty description of a Village, " If one is hick or in sorrow, they mourn together; if one is happy, they rejoice to- gether, as one family." I cannot remember the exact words, but they are nearly those; at once concise, expressive, and beautiful ! Be kind one to another— be pitiful — be courteous. This simple precept of our Saviour, which comprises so much of what may very justly and properly be called true religion, is more or less in daily force here, from the gentleman who comes to church in his coach, down to the poorest cottager, whose glass of water, when readily and cheerfully given, is as accept- able and valuable in the sight of heaven, as a purse of gold. This is true Christianity, and stands in glorious contrast to that cold, distant, unfeeling indifference to be expected in the world, where, surrounded by multitudes, one may feel solitary, friend- less, and forsaken — unknown and disregarded by ones nearest neighbours. The slight sketch I am about to make of this my native Village, though partial, shall be just, as far as I am able. I must be allowed some prejudice in favour of a spot which, as being my birth-place, and the constant residence of my family for many years, must be supposed to possess many a charm, and many an endearment to me, which no other place could afford. Yet independent of these p r ejudices, I do fancy I should still think it the most pretty Village I know. In the first place, its relative situation, with respect to Brighton and London, where every body may find business or pleasure, any day in the year. The former of these places is an hour and half's ride : the latter is a five hour's journey, a pleasant morn- ing's ride. The village itself stands on a gentle acclivity ; the ground falls on each side of it ; this renders it healthy, and more commanding, as to prospect ; one seldom sees in a Village so many good houses collected together in one regular SKETCH OF HURST. 5 street, and these not modern edifices, as white and as new as a mushroom, the growth of yesteiday ; but such as bespeak families of long established wealth and respectability. Our parsonage, to be sure, is, I- must say, rather censurable ; this house (urbs in rure) is one of fashions freaks, to turn its back upon us, and raise a high wall to shut out the street, lest our look should pollute its sanctity, or sully its grandeur, it looks like any thing but the residence of a Village clergyman, the friend and father of his people — one who sitteth not by himself, but is lowly iu his own eyes — easy of access ; now it is fxom its construction what I should call most inhospitably difficult of access ; (that shivering gate) it was not so twenty years ago ; the very house, which of all others, should be the most open, and inviting to all, from the highest to the lowest ; twenty years has made great changes amongst us, in almost every house aad family. But so far advanced in the nineteeth cen- tury, this epoch of every refinement, such notions as these may be singular and obsolete ; this house has been modernized of late years, and is altogether in a style so very different from any thing we have been accustomed to before, that it does not accord with our simple ideas, or at least my ideas of comfort, convenience, cheerfulness, hospitality, and so forth ; but any - man I suppose when he builds his house, consults rather his own will and taste, than that of his future neighbours. Our present Curate is, I am happy to say, (for our Rector only visits us occasionly) as good and worthy, and amiable a man, as ever existed, an honour to his profession, and an ornament to society. The Church, just where it ought to be for beauty and convenience ; then those lovely hills, and that still lovelier vale which intervenes between the Village and the hills. And that fine double row of lofty elms, at the back of the town to the south, standing rather high, (in a spacious meadow called the town-field) which so peculiarly marks its situation at a distance. Often have I stood on Mr. 's terrace on a fine summer's day, and look'd upon that scene, so rich ! so beauti- ful ! it always reminded me of the happy valley in Abyssinia-r- so completely enclosed by hills — the world shut out; I thought b 8 6 SKETCH OF HURST. if all .my friends lived at the foot of these hills, within this boundary, what a happy valley this would be to me, I should not have a thought or a wish beyond ; such were the romantic visions of my youth, when with a firm step, a light heart, and an eye, never telescopic certainly, but at that time compara- tively clear and good ; I dreamt not of those dark clouds which were to arise in after years, when I should become a perfect contrast to my then present self, both in mind and body; when sickness and sorrow should raise an insurmountable barrier around me, and shut me out for ever, from all that is dear and valuable in existence. But to mourn and to moralize here, is out of time and place : let me apologize for this selfish digression, and hasten on to finish the picture I had begun ; what egotists we are, self always ready to obtrude ! That uninterrupted range of hills before us, how admirable ! we see them as far as Ditchling to the east, and Steyning to the west ; there is the Dyke, on which many a Brighton party has assembled, and from which it is about four miles distant ; it stands high, and commands a most extensive and beautiful prospect, and is an object of great attention to the idlers cf that gay place. And there is proud Woolsonbury, we all talk so much about, just in front of us, it here looks the largest and the highest ; dear Woolsonbury ! whose steep mountain sidf»s and airy top, every boy and girl of the Village is so well ac- quainted with. Many a school-boy gambol, and many a light- hearted frolic has it witnessed, as I can well attest. It is a very pretty walk of half a mile, from the Village to the foot of it. And there a little further to the right you see Newtimber ; and not far from that, Poynings Chuich, a square tower ,which makes it a pretty object on a sunny morning. Other objects too there are, doubtless, in the distance which, as I have a bad sight, I can neither point out nor par- ticularize : consistent with my only pretensions, (a mere out- line) this is sufficient. Water is, in general, a great embel- lishment to the scenery of any country, and that is what ours wants ; and only that as some would say, to render it perfect — but for me it is perfect enough — I want no more. SKETCH OF HUIUT. 7 Now let us turn to the north and there, as seen from the gardens, on the north side of the town, is a still liner view ; and to people Li general, more interesting, as it comprises a greater variety of subjects, and a much wider extent of country : there is Cuckfield town and church, very plain to be seen ; and Eolney church, with its handsome square tower ; whose fine ring of bells may sometimes be heard, even at this distance, on a very still clear day, with a favourable wind ; and the iriiil too on the common. Bolney that pretty romantic place, with its green woods and wilds, full of nightingales, and its many cherry trees, and beds of cammomile ; there too we see the two London roads, east and west, and bear the noise of the coaches ; many other things, besides those I have mentioned, are dis- cernable, by a good eye accustomed to the scene ; but to me the most interesting part of it used to be that large handsome pasture, called the Home-field, (immediately under the garden walls) which forms so good a foreground to the picture, -with its horses and cows, and pigs and geese, and now and then a strolling passenger ; and that side a row of large old cherry trees to the right, in full bloom, and Little Park just beyond, standing low in one corner of the field ; this on a fine sunny morning in summer, is as pleasant and cheerful a sight as the eye can look upon, and well calculated to inspire those feelings of devotion, that boundless admiration and gratitude, with which every well regulated mind is naturally impressed, on contemplating those variou? charms, both of sight and sound, which the great Author of the Universe, has in every path, at this season of the year, so abundantly scattered around us. Oh ! who can stand in such contemplation, silent and alone, without feelings of the deepest humility and awe? Lord what is man that thou hast respect unto him, or the son of man that thou saregardeth him? the vast difference between Earth and Heaven ! the wisdom, the power, the great condescension of the Almighty ! the weakness and insignificance of man ! a being, frail, ignorant, and blind ! requiring in every moment of his life, the sustaining hand of Providence, to keep him in safety, mind and body ; seeing only the present, uncertain of to mor- 8 SKETCH OF HURST. row, utterly incapable of judging as to what may prove most to his advantage, or otherwise ; such thoughts as these, and many others of a like tendency, naturally crowd upon the mind, and chase away for a time, those little selfish unworthy feelings, so common to us all, in our daily intercourse with each other ; transported by pride and passion — hurried away by those pre- judices which worldly interest inspire, we forget ourselves — we forget our God! our evil and natural inclinations get the do- minion over us, and we become a disgrace to our name and profession as christians ; we know our error, and too late repent ; unable, in spite of our best resolutions, to persevere in that conduct, which most certainly secures our best interest and happiness in this world and the next, let us remember that the eye of God is ever upon us, that he is about our path, and about our bed, spieth out all our ways, and knoweth all our secret thoughts ; how shall we then presume to utter a sentence which we know to be wrong, or do any act which may offend the great Majesty of Heaven ! To thee whose temple is all space, Whose altar — earth — sea — skits ; One chorus let all beings raise, One general incense rise. To profess Christianity, make a great talk about it and recom- mend it to others, is all easy enough, but to practice it is very, vary difficult; this is a truth which (however humiliating) we are daily, nay almost hourly, convinced of, both in ourselves, and those around Us. That mild, humane, conciliating behaviour which it inculcates, seems to be in direct opposition to that which is but too common amongst us ; let us therefore keep a guard upon our lips, and a bridle upon our tongue, that unruly member that so often worketh mischief, both to ourselves and others, especially in a village, when for want of a wider range of ideas, we are all apt to dwell too intently upon trifles, easy to take offence, and to make wrong interpretations of words and actions ; not making those proper allowances for youth and inexperience, or for the irritability of age and sickness, which becomes us as christians, or (to use a more worldly expression) SKETCH OF HURST 9 as well bred and well educated people ; a title which I suppose most of us pretend to, how justly, is not for us to decide ; but after all, I suppose we are about as all others are living in small communities — apart from the world — where the lady finds her chief occupation in the nursery and the kitchen, and the gentleman sees all he wishes to see of the world in the newspaper. THE DRAWING ROOM. A Drawing Room in a Village ! does not that sound odd ? rather inconsistant ? O no, not at all, in these days ; for as we now and then go into the world,and have friends there.we must of course have a Drawing Room to receive them in, and to ap- pear a little like others ; though I can remember the time when no such thing was heard of here, the parlour, or the best par- lour seldom opened, was the height of our pretensions ; how- ever — Omnium rerum vkissitudo, and very right it should be so. But by what very elegant name shall we designate our Evening Parties ? If elegance be happiness, let us be elegant by all means, how can we spend our money better; happiness is the great aim of human life, conversation is worn out, com- mon place; besides it is not all suitable to us, nothing could be less appropriate, converse we never do, on any occasion, it is quite out of our way, we cannot even find any thing to talk about, how should we? what can we possibly have to talk about ? we who have and do as it were all things in com- mon, and know all each others concerns so well ; even the clever- est person that ever was in this resoect, and coming fresh from the world, if he were to live amongst us. would find his stock exhausted in less than a month, and be as silent as the rest of us from necessity ; unless indeed, unable to be quiet, he choose to talk such nonsense as nobody would listen to, then he would soon be tired of us, and we of him ; what should we say 3 1 should just like to know, this question concerns me more than any one else, for I am of all others most stupid and silent in company, not one word can I find to say for hours together, but 10 45KETCH OF HURST. sit like a fool, and can easily imagine my neighbours to ba pretty much in the same case, though I am a dull melancholy miserable being, with nothing to tell or to ask, which others are not, there they have the advantage of me, perhaps it is idleness, to which I am very subject ; but I can harlly think it worth while to be at the trouble of telling any one, that I hope it may be a fine day to morrow — that I had a bad head ache yesterday — and that I should have enjoyed my dinner, but it was spoiled in the dressing ; I have no right to suppose any one cares enough forme, to listen with pleasure to such intelligence, or to care one straw whether I have a head ; as to our neigh- bourly chit chat about the washing weeks — the baking day—the best mode of keeping yeast, or making a child's cap — the plague of servants — the great expence of housekeeping, and the diffi- culty of keeping a shilling in ones pocket ; why this connot be called conversation, this does very well by ourselves, when we meet in a free and friendly way, at such times we may, and can, and do discuss these important matters, with all due earnestness and interest ; but in company and among strangers , these fail, we feel sadly at a loss ; the weather, the flowers, the butterflies, and the book-club, are poor heartless things, and dont last an hour ; we cannot say r how many sermons did you hear last Sunday, and which did you like best — were you at the Concert last night — have you made any pretty things for the Dorcas, and shall you be there to morrow — we feel no interest about Madame Michau, Madam Ferrara, (if such be her name) or Signor Cianchettini ; half of us never heard of such people ; as to our one sermon, I fear such a thing is seldom thought of till Sunday comes again, however good and deserving ; our public amusements, a ride or a walk, affording little or nothing new to communicate ; our private, those of painting, playing, drawing, mending, making bracelets, purses, &c. and by various laudable means, which keeps us always busy, endeavouring to get or to save money to put into them; we are no readers by nature, now and then a few pages if a very pretty club-book, happens to come along ; as to that numerous tribe of modern novels, which have appeared of late years, by Walter Scott t SKETCH OF HURST. 1 I and nobody-hnows-who, like him, which have proved such a very fruitful source of amusement, instruction, and interest to the world in general ; why — we dont approve of them, we say a novel is a novel old or new, and we that have read Pamela, and Tom Jones, are quite convinced that novels are very wrong things, all trash alike, and should not be admitted amongst young people ; we have heard people talk indeed of the great difference between the old novels and the new, and the great improvement that has taken place in this kind cf writing, within the last twenty years, artfully trying to recom- mend and apologise for them ; but we listen to no such insin- uating language, and hold it right to keep the minds of our children as free, and that as long as we can, from even the least possible taint of impropriety. . Not only we do not know what to say, hut how to say it is almost as great a difficulty : we have no opportunity of mixing with the best company, and therefore connot expect to be bene- fited by it, ; books are an excellent substitute for society, and the best society too, where the language, the manners, and the sentiments are all. Ah ! I will not, I need not, say how diff- erent from ourSi often and deeply have I lamented that it should be so ; of course, I mean good — well chosen books, of which there are in the presant day such an abundance ; where- ever there is a book-club, the prevailing taste of the party is the first thing to be considered, and as ours is chiefly com- posed of gentlemen, so most of the books (not entirely certain- ly, for there are many as exclusively adapted to the Ladies) are chosen to suit their minds and taste : now, with all due deference to the opinion of those whose understanding and judgment is, of course, much superior to mine, T must be here allowed to say, I cannot think Tours, Voyages, and Travels, exactly calculated to improve the minds, and form the man- ners of such young people as ours, girls especially, who living in retirement, with moderate fortunes, should study to become good daughters, good sisters, good housewives, and good chris- tians. What does it concern them in their probable destiny through life, the height of a mountain, the course of a river, 12 SKETCH OF HURST. or the custom of the Hindoos, or the Esquimaax ? What knowledge they do acquire of this kind, (and I would not have them ignorant on this subject) should be rather gained from the reading and conversation of their fathers and brothers, while as good housewives they are themselves occupied with their needle or their scissars in the service of some part of their family. A young ladys time is too valuable to be spent in reading such books as can be of no use to her ; her reading should be for improvement, instruction, advantage, not mere present amusement : it is the qualities of the heart, rather than the head, which renders a woman dear and estimable in her family circle ; admired and respected amongst her acquaint- ance. But some people have a natural gift of conversation, and can talk as well without a subject as with ; often have I envied such ; endeavoured to catch the art, but never could succeed. If we try to trace the pedigree of the neighbouring familes, who did he marry ; who did she marry ; where did they live ; and what was her maiden name : a very common topic among elderly people. This don't answer ; ours are mixed parties of old and young, and all must be amused. It is in vain to think of conversation, nobody can keep up five minutes.— Quadrille, happy" thought ! useful invention ! doubly useful to us, at which the old may play, and the young may dance ; to play a vole against Spadille ; to loose a sans prendre for want of one card, are miseries certainly ; but slight in comparison with sitting a whole evening in stupid silence unemployed. But what is very provoking, our Pianos are for ever getting out of tune, and though many of *s have learned music of the best masters (as we say) and have even finished our education, yet I don't know how it is ; I suppose the air of Hurst is not favourable to music ; but not one of us can play a Quadrille to be danced to ; they are such difficult things, as all musical people know. I have tried myself a hundred times, but in vain ; though every body is not so stupid as I am. Thanks to Mr. M and his fiddle, we do get a tune to dance to about half a dozen times in a year in spite of our rusty wires ; and he is uo old fashioned blind fiddler, as SXETGH OF HURST. 13 some might" suppose, but a modern, and real good one. It is highly incumbent on all parents, to render their children's home as happy and comfortable as possible, consistent with every duty — Sw«et home ! the centre of all their pleasures, conveniences-, and affections, and where they may be safe from every danger, and every ill example. The suaviter in modo, with the for titer in re, should be often remembered by those who have the bringing up of children ; no rule, as Lord Chesterfield says, is more unexceptionably necessary, in every part of life than this, and I think more especially amongst children — gentleness with firmness. Hurst is at this time a large nursery of children, from one to twenty years of age, and a better there cannot be ; it behoves us as nurses and guardians to be strictly careful of their health and morals, and more by example than precept, to train them up in the way they should go. May Heaven send a blessing on our endeavours, to render them wiser, and better, and happier, than their parents ! As to money, the boys may earn, and the girls may save. Great riches are not worth coveting in this transitory world : they as often prove a curse as a blessing, unaccompanied by wisdom and virtue, to make a right disposal. Grant them but health, industry, and prudence, thou Great Disposer of it ! and happiness, we may reasonably bope will follow. It is by a long perseverance in industry, prudence, and economy, amongst all ranks, for many jears, that this village has become what it is : superior, in my opinion, to any other in the neighbourhood,, for external neatness and convenience, as well as for the e:*6y circumstances of the Inhabitants in general. Failures in trade are very rare here; and I believe no gentleman lives beyond his income, or would on any account. These reflections should stimulate us all to bring up our children in the same way ; to depend more upon their own active ex- ertions for a livelihood, than upon the riches which their father's industry has procured for them. The National School, the Workhouse, and the Inn (the latter well situated in the middle of the town), are all good; much better than are usually met C 14 SKETCH OF HURST. with in in so small a place, and, I believe, as well conducted -. 1'ut to dwell longeron the many advantages whirl* Hurst pos- sesses, in my partial eyes, would, perhaps, lead me to say more than ought to be said, in its favour. This slight outline, as far as it goes, will, I think, be found correct. Imperfect, indeed; very imperfect. — It deserves a finish, and by an able hand, would make a pretty and 1 ighly interesting picture. But every village can boast its advantages, its comforts, and conveniences, and a long residence in any place, natu- rally creates feelin£s of attachment and regard. ENViROKS, THREE MILES ROUND. The village of Hurst may be said to be paved throughout, from one end to the other, as far as the houses extend. This is not the ca«e in every village, and is a great comfort and advantage Id pedestrians. The last house in the place eastward, is a very old established butcher's shop, kept by the same family who now occupies it, I should ihink these fifty years, with its palissades, and two or three old fashioned cut elms before it. A little distance from here, on the other side of the road, is * house, which has lately undergone great addi- tions and improvements ; a pair of handsome green gates, and a gravel sweep, lead up to the house, which stands high, and fronts the west. The spa- cious town-field, handsome row of Elms, and the setting sun, is a glorious scene from these windows on a summer's evening. Here we ascend a short hill, on the top of which to the left is a cottage, with a court and cherry-trees before it, and a low wall, with white palissades on it close to the road. Prom hence nothing occurs, except here and tfiere a cottaae, till we reach the foot of Ran-didles-Hill ; SKETCH OF HURST. 15 here at the mouth of a lane running- north, is a handsome cottage ornee, a house lately purchased and modernized and made what it is, by a gentle- man who 1 understand is an attorney, at Brighton, and one, who ex-officio has gained, no small degree of popularity in that place. Having ascended this small hill, and nearly reached Stone Found Gate, we observe on the left a neat farm house, called the Ham, standing rather low from the road and having a deep court, and white palissade fence close to the road. A mile to the east of the village is Stone Pound Gate, so called from there having been for- merly a manor pound for cattle built of stone, on the bank to the left, as you descend the hill ; this is one of the boundaries of Hurst parish; here two roads meet and cross each other ; one leading to London and Brighton, the other to Ditchelling and Hurst; and threa gates, east, west, and south. Having crossed the Loudon road, the ground gent- ly rises, and passing over a large open plain called the Hassux, (so pronounced, how properly spelt, or why so called, I can't tell) seperated from the road by a hedge, commands a fine extensive view of the downs to the right. Wq then descend a short steep hill, prettily wooded on each side ; at the bottom of this hill is a gate.where we pay six- pence for a single carriage horse ; from here the ground gradually descends for about a quarter of a mile, where at the bottom of another little steep hill, is a stream of water, called Spittle Ford, which used, in very wet seasons, to be almost impassable at times; there has lately been a bridge built over it. From hence the ground gradually rises for ano- 16 SKETCH OF HURST. ther half mile, till we come to Keymer, a small hamlet, with its church standiu<>; high on the left, its work-house, its one farm house, and few poor cottages. Here to the left, a good carriage road leads to Old Laud and Oakley, two good houses, where live two families of great respectability, long and well known in this neighbourhood. A mile from here, still travelling eastward, the road leads to Ditchelling, which appears to be one of the most ancient settlements in this neighbourhood, it stands high on a rocky sand^ r soil, and is mentioned in Doomsday, as having been given by William the Conqueror to his -daughter as a marriage portion; this village, or rather town, is built in the shape of a cross, in the centre of which, it is not improbable to suppose, there might origi- nally have been some kind of building, as at Chi- chester and many other old towns so built, though ] never heard of any vestige or record to confirm this idea; it is altogether larger than Hurst, contains many wealthy respectable families, and is situated at.a pretty distance from Hurst (three miles) for a ride or a walk on a summer's afternoon to drink tea with a friend ; but long walks are not so much in fashion as they used to be, since we have learnt the art of flying, and since a carriage of some kind is become one of the indispensable necessaries of life. Ah! well do I remember the pleasure J used to feel when a child, on going with the servants to tea with good old Mrs. on Ditchelling fair day! always walking there and back. When I talk of wealth, 1 mean of course to speak comparatively ; I am not .thinking of spacious eqaipages, spacious drawing SKETCH OF HUilST 17 rooms, or of pines and ices, but rather of those good old English tire-side comforts, a good fire with a blazing piece of wood on the top, a good bottle of port, or a good cup of tea, with an hissing urn, and half a dozen real friends about us, such are our joys, such the extent of our ambition ; I am well aware, that in the neighoourhood of so rich and gay a place as Brighton, our wealth may sound pre- sumptuous and create a snide. About a mile on the Brighton road, at the foot of a long and tedious hill, to the left stands the church and Rectory of Clayton ; Keymer church is an appendage to this living, Clayton-cum-Keymer, f:om which it is distant about a mile and a half ; this is a sweet spot as to natural beauty, but they seem to have chosen a bad situatiou for the parson- age house, which in my opinion stands too low, and too far from the present public road, though this is entirely a matter of taste and opinion ; it is a pretty looking house enough, and where I have spent many a pleasant day; there are a few cottages here and there, but scarcely worth mentioning. Clayton hill (for hill it must and ever will be though it has, at a great expense and labour, been twice lowered within these twenty years,) is a sad hindrance in a ride to Brighton with one horse, but for this, one mi^ht be there in an hour, or nearly so j on the top of this hill to the right is Pyecoomb, with its church, its small national school, and few houses,, amongst which we must not forget to mention that well known public house, the Plough, standing a!- c a IS SKETCH OF HURST. most at the junction of three roads, leading to Clay- ton, Newtimber, and Brighton. Not quite a mile on the London road, to the right, is a good and very old established Inn, called friar's Oak, it has been kept a great mauy years by the rame persons who now occupy it, and who seem always to. have given great satisfaction; here many a turnpike meeting has been held, many a venison and other feast has been enjoyed by the gentlemen of the neighbourhood, and many a weary traveller been refreshed. A little further on to the left, and nearly a quarter of a mile from the public road, is the family residence of a gentlemen, who may really and truly be styled a man of wealth and opulence, he has purchased, and built, and planted and at length inhabited, what may almost be called, a princely abode, far surpassing in elegance and modern taste all others in the neighbourhood. About a mile and a half beyond is St. John's Com- mon, a fine hiry healthy place,were you have a good view of the surrounding country, especially the south downs, the pride of Sussex! as it yields the very best of mutton, and what should one ever wish to see better on a table, than a thorough good leg of mutton well dressed ; no where can mutton be ate in greater perfection— and that on the most reasonable terms— than at Hurst. Now let us travel westward, setting out from the Parsonage the last house in the village, on the right. From hence to the church, is a nice clean straight pavement of red brick, with a pretty green hedge on one side, and the road on the other. SKETCH OF HURST. ?$ The church -yard is bound on the east by a so x uare piece of waste ground, called the church green, belongingto the Lord of the Manor., who has built on it a coach house and stable for the accom- modation of his carriage and horses, and this is used constantly twice a day on a Sunday, and all other holy days. Here is ako a manor pound for catUe. The church i« on the left so that we cross the road to enter the church-yard, but we are not going into the church -yard, so we will pass that by. Beyond the church on the left side, and separated from the main road by a little slip of a garden, is a row of houses, chiefly ocupied by poor people, and as it communicates and leads into the church-yard, it is called the Church Lane. A few yards further on, to the right, is another little cluster of houses, « -and the turnpike gate, and a public-house called the % White Horse just beyond. Quarter of a mile further on is West Town, comprising six or eight cottages and one gentleman's seat called West Town House, remarkable for the beauty and neatness of its gardens, house, and premises. This gentleman, who must be said, to possess great taste, has by his own indefatigable exertions and skill in this way, for the last dozen years, made a perfect metamor- phoses of this place. I remember when there was nothing to admire about it but the hospitality and cheerfulness of the interior, of which I have often been a happy partaker. It is now during the sum- mer months, beauty itself. The very palace of Flora and Pomona! What pleasure to emerge from the dust and glare of a noisy town, to spend 20 SKETCH OF HURST. a summers day in this peaceful retreat, to strtll amongst honey-suckles, jessamines, roses, and at dewy morn, or grateful evening mild, to enhale their sweet fragrance, bless the God who sent them and who formed us so to enjoy. Or on that pretry lawn at the back of the house, with a party of friends to partake of a bowl of syllabub from the cow, while seated on a rustic bench, under a shady tree, surrounded by the merry faces of boys and girls, fishing for the sixpeuce and the ring. — ' ; C'es-t Dieu qui a fait la Campagne, ou Ie bonheur et la beaute regnent partout.' Though the pleasures of Brighton exceed In number, die days of die year ; How many, did nothing impede, Would feel themselves happier here. But a truce to such imaginations; let us pursue our journey, fn a high field just beyond this house is a windmill, a conspicuous object in the distance and the only one we have nearer than Clayton. Our corn is chiefly ground by water-mills. Not a quarter of a mile beyond this is an Inn called the King's Head, just a mile from Hurst. Here the road stops, the London road comes in, north and south. Though there is a road which goes to the west; a little lower down northwards leading to Henfield, a very pretty village, about six miles- off. Three miles from the king's Head, northwards is Hixted, where having cross'd a stream you ascend a short steep hill at the top of which is a pretty gentleraans house and grounds. To the left, just here, you pass a Turnpike Gate, and stop at a good Inn, every accomodation for passengers and horses. SKETCH OF HURST. 21 Halfway between Hixted and the King's Head, is Sayers Common, the boundary of Hurst Parish* here are a few poor cottages, and an Inn has lately been erected, with stables for the accomodation of the Coaches, most of which run this new road in preference to the other ; here too if any one wants Post Chaise in a hurry, this is the place to send in Hurst Parish. Of course it is pleasanter to employ ones own people than strangers, generally speaking. About a hundred yards bdow the King's Head to the south; is a- small neat house, to the left called Woodbine Cottage, this is another boundary of Hurst parish; here too a lane to the -right leads to Albourne, a pretty walk of two miles from Hurst, here is a neat little church, with parsonage house and excellent garden, adjoining the church yard standing low. On an elevated spot in the adjoin- ing field, stands a large handsome old house, called Albourne Place, this is a fine and rare specimen in our neighbourhood of the grandeur and magnificence of ancient times, and in the massive and substantial style of its architecture, presents a striking contrast to the light and airy elegance of modern times ; what a pity that such a house should for so many years have wanted suitable occupants ! It is now., what those who lived in it fifty or a hundred years ago would be inclined to call, a melancholy ruin; so situated, what a charming residence it might be made by planting and improving-: but in these times money is wanted in so many ways, and we go so much more from home, that we are neither inclined, nor can afford to do, what our ancestors used to do 22 HISTORY OF HURST. ia this way. Half a mile to the right of this, in a low skeltered spot, is an old but good looking- farm house called Wick, inhabited by the same family who now occupies it, ever since I can remember, A short distance from Woodbine cottage (travelling south) we descend a gentle bill, here two houses have lately been built. On the left bank at the bottom of this hill, we cross a stream or bridge, called Cutler's Brook; here the road gently rises till we come to a sand pit on the right, where turning a corner, we go down a little descent and proceed pretty much on a level through Muddleswood Gate to Newtimber, when the ground begins again slightly to rise. Here is a neat looking Inn, called the Newnham Arms, a name once, and for many years, never heard with* out reverence and respect, so called from a family who once lived in that pretty moated house, which you see below you to the right, beautiful indeed it is, how much time and pains and money have been expended to make it so ; and all of it has proved in vain. This family, whom I can remember the pride and delight of the neighbourhood, blest with health and riches, and every means of happiness, with minds of taste and liberality, to feel and to communicate pleasure to all around, what! and where are they now? as a gay s»nd brilliant scene in a theatre, suddenly changes to gloom and no- thingness, so it has been with 'hern ; time, with his iron hand, has swept all away ! not one remains — exiles in a foreign land ! how often must their thoughts have turned with regret to such a home HISTOPY OF HURST. 23 as this. ISewtimber is about three miles from the King's Head, and man} 7 a walk have I had there across the fields when young. Thus have we travers- ed the countiy, in every direction that the King's high road will admit— Enst, as far as Ditchelling. West, as far as Albourne — Hixted and St. John's Common, to the North — Pyecomb and Newtim- ber to the South. As to fields and foot paths, Oh ! dear me! I have neither head, or heart, or foot for any such thing. Whoever wishes to be more inti- mately acquainted with our ways, I can only say must come and explore for themselves. I wonder who could think of sitting down to write such nonsense as this ? some very idle person it must be, and silly, as idle; I am sure it does no credit to any one, it's a pity thty could not find bek- ter employment; and as to it being any body in this village, I dont believe a word on't, not one of onr people but would be ashamed to own such a thing. To think of printing such stuff! Why I might as well sit down and write what I said to my maid just now about dinner, and send it to be printed and published, just as good as this; bat dear me I should not be such a fool ; this is the blessed effects of idle- ness, when people have nothing else to do, they are sure to get into mischief, and to make themselves ridiculous in some way or other. 1 dare say it is some poor Cobbler who, wanting a job, and finding a drop of ink in his bottle, hoped to turn a penny in this way ; or some poor miserable body in a garret 24 HJS-TORY OF HURST. with a farthing rushlight, reduced to the last ex- treme of poverty, one who never took a pen in hand before, e\ident!y ; and such a person to set up as a monitor indeed ;- to tell us how to bring up our children, aud how this should be done, and how that should be done, and how we are to talk, as if we had not common sense; impertinent block- head ! insignificent insect! that never had a six- pence in his pockel ! and to dare to speak in that manner of our Tlectory, that handsome elegant house, the prkle of the place ! [ wonder what j$J r . will say when he comes, he will be angry enough I warrant, and well he may, but such an atom as that is far beneath the notice of such a man. Well ! I do hope never to see one of my children act in suo.h a way, I shall take pretty good care to keep them better employed. I'll never buy one of his books, not I indeed ; not a penny shall he have of my money ! and then to presume to — — Stop! Stop! Good lady f Whither so fast I a Cobbler! Miserable body in a garret ! Imperti- nent blockhead ! Most flattering eulogium truly upon my performance, after all the pains I have taken to amuse you— is this my thanks ? Farewell I I'll write no more for you. raii Frinted by W. HANDELL, Hurstperpoint. I s q* h Wu LIBRARY OF CONGRESS tt 1 1 1 1 III II III ! 021 382 422 3