thousand horse, which she had levied. On the
22nd of August Northumberland deservedly
lost his mischievous head on Tower Hill, and
two of his special abettors were also executed
with him. Sentence was pronounced against
Lady Jane Grey and Lord Guildford, but they
were so young, neither of them being seventeen,
that it seemed murder to carry severity
further than imprisonment. But in February
of the next year Wyatt's unsuccessful march
on London, with four thousand Kentish men,
proved fatal to Lady Jane and her husband,
who were, soon after Wyatt's defeat, executed
privately on Tower Green.

In the old flint church of St. Michael at
Framlingham—a fine decorated building, with
a perpendicular clerestory, a very rich timber
roof, and a grand tower ninety feet high—
there are some interesting monuments of the
Norfolk family. On the south side of the chancel
is the effigy of that Thomas, third Duke
of Norfolk, who led our English knights and
archers at Flodden to the slaughter of ten
thousand Scotchmen and their chivalrous,
hot-blooded King James. That heavy blow stopped
the inroads of our warlike neighbours for many
a day; yet, after all, the dogs of war were
"scotched, not killed;" and in Charles's time
the Lowlanders and Highlanders were down on
us again, till Cromwell beat them small as
dust at Dunbar, and scattered them like chaff
before the wind. On the north side of
Framlingham chancel rests the counterfeit of the
poet Earl of Surrey—he and his countess,
the successful rival of the fair Geraldine
(who was born here), rest hand in hand
unchangeably on a tomb erected 1617. It
has never been discovered who the Geraldine
really was to whom he addressed his sonnets.
Horace Walpole tried to prove it was Lady
Elizabeth Fitzgerald, but she was only a child
(twelve or thirteen) when those verses were
written. Surrey, though not a genius, was
useful to our succeeding poets; for he
transplanted for us the Italian sonnets and
introduced blank verse.

Near the Earl of Surrey rests that friend
with whom he was brought up, and to whom
he alludes in his poem, "The Prisoner at
Windsor," Henry, the Duke of Richmond,
the bastard son of Henry the Eighth, who
married Mary, a sister of the Earl. There
are also here effigies of Mary Fitzalan and
Margaret Audley, first and second wives of
Thomas, the fourth Duke of Norfolk, beheaded
in 1572.

On to Southwold, the centre of later history
and of many old sea legends of the great wars
with the Dutch, that ensanguined the North Sea
and the east coast all through the reckless
reign of Charles the Second. Southwold is
the wreck of a larger town destroyed by fire
in April, 1659, and was once the rival of
Dunwich. This latter place was the abode
of East Anglian kings and of prelates also,
till the see became part of the diocese of
Norwich. It formerly boasted eight churches,
besides convents, hospitals, and a chantry. It
was so wealthy a place, indeed, that when
Richard CÅ“ur-de-Lion fined the East Anglian
ports for supplying his enemies with corn,
Ipswich and Yarmouth only paid two hundred
marks each, while Dunwich paid one thousand
and sixty marks. An inundation of the sea
eventually destroyed the town, now a mere
cluster of sloping cornfields round some grey
monastic ruins. The King's Holm, tradition
says, was buried under a flood of shingle, and
the Cock-and-Hen hills were at the same time
washed away with all the chief buildings of the
town.

The coast between Dunwich and Southwold
is flat, and terraced with shingle. The low
coast line with level pastures and dykes
behind is broken only by the tall tower of
Walberswick and the rounded height that
terminates Solebay. At the mouth of the Blythe
long timber piles stretch out to form a port,
while a broad tongue of shingle spreads across
the entrance, and through the neck so
narrowed the tide runs in furiously. The inland
scenery is Dutch in character. The meadows
are surrounded by high banks, on the tops of
which run the paths, and the common lands
are under the charge of "fen reeves." The
town once depended on its trade with Iceland
for ling, but the Southwold fishermen (one
hundred boats or so) now depend on the
catching of soles and shrimps, and on the
visitors, who are attracted by the breezy crags
and the dry healthy gravel on which the
houses are built. The fishermen congregate on
the outer side of the bluff, round their two
shelter sheds, watching the boatbuilders,
smoking beside the capstans, or on clear nights
trying to make out Orford light. There are
two government batteries (twelve eighteen-
pounders) at Eyecliff, where the Danes once
had a fort, and at Gunhill is a battery of
six old-fashioned guns taken at Preston by the
Pretender, and re-captured at Culloden. The
Duke of Cumberland gave them to the town.
The temperature of Southwold is so mild that
it is always honoured by the earliest arrival and
latest departure of that distinguished visitor of
ours—the swallow. Amber and jet are dredged
up here, and cornelians and agates hide
themselves among the vulgar pebbles of the beach.
Beyond Southwold the crow discerns new
features of the Suffolk coast scenery in the Broads
(as at Euston and Covehithe), where large
sheets of water collect near the shore, and
after heavy rains are allowed to escape by
sluices into the sea.

Rough paths through scrub, rushes, and sea
holly, over a rugged beach strewn with lumps
of shelly red crag, then shingle and sand hills,
low cliffs covered with fern and heath, hollows
of loose sand, and bluffs honeycombed by
sand martins, guide the crow to Solebay.
On the calm blue waters, under these silent
cliffs, took place on May 2nd, 1672, a
tremendous naval battle, when sixty-five English
sail, commanded by the Duke of York,
encountered thirty-five French men-of-war under
the Count d'Etrées, and ninety-one Dutch