One other walled town we will single out for especial notice in this chapter—­the quaint, picturesque, peaceful, placid town of Rye on the Sussex coast.  It was once wooed by the sea, which surrounded the rocky island on which it stands, but the fickle sea has retired and left it lonely on its hill with a long stretch of marshland between it and the waves.  This must have taken place about the fifteenth century.  Our illustration of a disused mooring-post (p. 24) is a symbol of the departed greatness of the town as a naval station.  The River Rother connects it with the sea, and the few barges and humble craft and a few small shipbuilding yards remind it of its palmy days when it was a member of the Cinque Ports, a rich and prosperous town that sent forth its ships to fight the naval battles of England and win honour for Rye and St. George.  During the French wars English vessels often visited French ports and towns along the coast and burned and pillaged them.  The French sailors retaliated with equal zest, and many of our southern towns have suffered from fire and sword during those adventurous days.

[Illustration:  Old Houses formerly standing in Spon Street Coventry]

Rye was strongly fortified by a wall with gates and towers and a fosse, but the defences suffered grievously from the attacks of the French, and the folk of Rye were obliged to send a moving petition to King Richard II, praying him “to have consideration of the poor town of Rye, inasmuch as it had been several times taken, and is unable further to repair the walls, wherefore the town is, on the sea-side, open to enemies.”  I am afraid that the King did not at once grant their petition, as two years later, in 1380, the French came again and set fire to the town.  With the departure of the sea and the diminishing of the harbour, the population decreased and the prosperity of Rye declined.  Refugees from France have on two notable occasions added to the number of its inhabitants.  After the Massacre of St. Bartholomew seven hundred scared and frightened Protestants arrived at Rye and brought with them their industry, and later on, after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, many Huguenots settled here and made it almost a French town.  We need not record all the royal visits, the alarms of attack, the plagues, and other incidents that have diversified the life of Rye.  We will glance at the relics that remain.  The walls seem never to have recovered from the attack of the French, but one gate is standing—­the Landgate on the north-east of the town, built in 1360, and consisting of a broad arch flanked by two massive towers with chambers above for archers and defenders.  Formerly there were two other gates, but these have vanished save only the sculptured arms of the Cinque Ports that once adorned the Strand Gate.  The Ypres tower is a memorial of the ancient strength of the town, and was originally built by William de Ypres, Earl of Kent, in the twelfth century, but has received