extraordinary privileges and treasure, mostly at the expense of the conquered Saxons.  The abbey is one of the best preserved of the early monastic buildings in England, and is used as a private residence by the proprietor.  The church is in ruins, but the great gateway, with its crenelated towers, and the main part of the monastic building are practically as they were when completed, shortly after the death of the Conqueror.

Battle Abbey, since the time of our visit, has passed into the possession of an American, who has taken up his residence there.  This case is typical of not a few that came to our attention during our stay in England.  Many of the historic places that have for generations been in the possession of members of the nobility have been sold to wealthy Americans or Englishmen who have made fortunes in business.  These transactions are made possible by a law that permits entailed estates to be sold when the owner becomes embarrassed to such an extent that he can no longer maintain them.  And some of these places are sold at astonishingly low figures—­a fraction of their cost.  It is another of the signs of the changing social conditions in the British Empire.

A quaint old village is Winchelsea, on the coast about fifteen miles from Battle.  It is a small, straggling place, with nothing but its imposing though ruinous church and the massive gateways of its ancient walls remaining to indicate that at one time it was a seaport of some consequence.  But here, as at Pevensey, the sea receded several miles, destroying Winchelsea’s harbor.  Its mosts interesting relic is the parish church, built about 1288.  The greater portion of this is now in ruins, nothing remaining but the nave, which is still used for services.  In the churchyard, under a great tree, still standing, John Wesley preached his last open-air sermon.

[Illustration:  Winchelsea church and elm tree.]

Two miles from Winchelsea is Rye, another of the decayed seaports of the southeast coast.  A few small fishing vessels still frequent its harbor, but the merchant ships, which used to contribute to its prosperity, are no longer seen.  It is larger than Winchelsea and is built on a hill, its steep, narrow streets being lined with quaint houses.  These two queer towns seem indeed like an echo from the past.  It does not appear that there have been any changes of consequence in them for the past several hundred years.  People continue to live in such villages because the average Englishman has a great aversion to leaving his native land.  One would think that there would be emigration from such places to the splendid lands of Western Canada, but these lands are not being taken by Englishmen, although the opportunity is being widely advertised by the Canadian Government and the various transportation companies.  And yet one can hardly wonder at the reluctance of the native Englishman to leave the “tight little island,” with its trim beauty and proud tradition, for the wild, unsubdued countries of the West.  If loyal Americans, as we can rightly claim to be, are so greatly charmed with England, dear indeed it must be to those who can call it their native land.