and marshes of the Colne, Blackwater and Crouch. On the estuary of the Blackwater lies the small but populous and picturesquely situated town of Maldon.

Maldon is divided into two parts by the River Blackwater. East Maldon, situated to the north of the river, is lower than West Maldon, which stands on the south bank on a steep eminence. If approached by water it presents a striking aspect with its quays and shipping standing out against a background of old-fashioned red-tiled houses, interspersed here and there by tower or spire. Delightful views may be had of the sur

rounding country, across the estuary and towards the sea. The town itself is also full of interest with its quaint corners and narrow alleys, which remind you of Whitby. One of its attractive features is the Moot Hall, dating back to the Tudor period, with an over-hanging clock, and a portico over the footway, supported by four stone pillars; its grey and worn exterior gives no clue to its age, and it is only when you enter and view the fine old pannelled council chamber, the Newel staircase, with a hand-rail of moulded brick, that you realize you have here an example of the early fifteenth century. From the leaden roof extensive views may be enjoyed of the surrounding scenery.

All Saints, the Parish Church of Maldon, has many fine examples of Early English, decorated, and perpendicular work, but its chief feature is the singular triangular tower. St. Mary's, founded during the Norman era, is principally of the fifteenth century. In an old building, until lately used as a schoolhouse, close to the old tower of St. Peter's Church, is housed the famous library of some 7,000 volumes, collected and presented to the town by Dr. Thomas Plume, Archdeacon of Rochester, born at Maldon in 1630; he was also the founder of the Plumian Professorship of Astronomy at Cambridge University. He died in 1704, and lies in Longfield Church, Kent.

A short walk through the fields, along the side of the Chelmer, which, just below the Abbey, forms a foaming waterfall crossed by a flat wooden bridge, brings us to Beeleigh. The Abbey of to-day is little altered so far as outward appearances go to what it was at the time of the Dissolution, for, unlike the majority, it was allowed to stand instead of being pulled down and a modern building built in its place. The result is a delightful jumble of different styles of architecture, early English windows and doors, Elizabethan brickwork, timbered gables, and chimneys in clusters, inside groined roofs and Tudor fireplaces.

Close to the Abbey were the old mill and fishponds of the monks. A little to one side, near the floodgates, is a pretty thicket, crossed by trickling streamlets, where is situated the Lion Elm, so called from the curious formation of one side of the trunk, which resembles a lion's head. Beeleigh is the angler's paradise, for all manner of fishing can be had in the waters of the Chelmer and Blackwater, and in the Chelmer Navigation Canal, which joins the two rivers above Beeleigh.

Leaving Maldon we join the main line at Colchester. This old town, whose history goes back 2,000 years, when, as the Roman town of Camerlodunum, it became their chief settlement in Britain, is now noted as the busiest agricultural centre of Essex, and one of the principal garrison stations of England. The origin of its name is unknown, but is supposed to mean the "town of Camulos," a Gaulish deity probably worshipped both by Britons and Romans; it was also the capital of Cunobelin, celebrated by Shakespeare in his play of "Cymbeline."

The chief feature of the town is the almost perfect condition of its ancient walls, for while the old buildings and narrow streets have given way before the requirements of commercial progress only a few old houses here and there, with a few carefully preserved inns, remain to remind us of its ancient origin. One of the most interesting of the old Roman relics is the Balkan gate, situated on the top of the Balkan Hill, and with one exception is said to be the only Roman gateway left in England.

Leaving Colchester and crossing over into Suffolk we reach the little seaside resort of Southwold situated close to the

mouth of the river Blyth. Its history dates back to the year 1490 and its fine church of St. Edmund even earlier.

To the north of the town, on the way to Lowestoft, is the small fishing village of Covehithe, famous as the birthplace of that sturdiest of reformers, and most mordant of controversialists, Bishop Hale (1495.) Here also is a fine old church, whose ivy-clad ruins bear silent witness to the former wealth and populousness of a place which now ranks amongst the poorest and meanest parishes in the country (Illustrated). All the ancient parts of this once-stately pile are crumbling

into decay, but Divine Service is still carried on in a small building, built within the nave of the older church about 1672. The great arch of the east window still attests its former beauty, and the tower acts as a good landmark for travellers. "All roofless now the stately pile,

And rent the arches tall,

Thro' which, with bright departing smile,
The western sunbeams fall.

Tradition's voice forgets to tell

Whose ashes sleep below,

And fancy here unchecked may dwell

And bid the story flow.

A. Strickland.

Five miles to the west of Southwold lies the little village of Blythburgh, situated on the River Blyth, noted for the ruins

of the old Priory of the Augustinians, and its beautiful church of the Holy Trinity.

Nearer the sea, on the road between Southwold and Dunwich, lies the little village of Walberswick. If Cromer is entitled to be called Poppyland, then Walberswick may fairly claim to be considered Artists' land, for this little village, with its quaint old houses, bridges, and ferry and its fine old ruined church is considered the most picturesque village on the Suffolk coast. It is the resort of countless numbers of artists, who love to depict its beauties with brush and pencil. (Illustrated).

Its resemblance to Holland is so great that it has been called "the English Holland." Spacious green distances under bright, silvery Van der Velde-like skies, cattle feeding that Paul Potter might have sketched, dykes and waterways and high wooden little bridges, red roofs shining in the sun, backed by trees and topped by grey church towers, and over all there is sunshine and the flavour of the sea." The likeness is so great that the country might have been laid out and composed by Dutch painters.

Leaving Walberswick, and following the coast line, we might easily fancy ourselves in Holland, with its dykes to protect the lands against the inroads of the sea, its quaint windmills, and the watery pastures all reminding us of that country. A short walk brings us to all that remains of the once powerful city of Dunwich-a few scattered cottages along a seawashed cliff, and the crumbling ruins of a church.

It was a port of some importance during the Saxon era, and Felix, the Burgundian monk, chose it for the establishment of the See of East Anglia in 632.

Space forbids me to describe any further the beauties of this part of England, but should this short account induce any of by brother photographers to visit these spots I feel certain they will not be disappointed for want of subjects for their