perhaps because in a measure it adumbrated the large share they took in the greater Rebellion of much more recent times, which still stirs within us emotions inseparable from partisanship, and renders a judicial estimate of that momentous upheaval difficult. But from whatever motives the latter contest started, we cannot forget that, unlike the other, it ended in the supremacy of a military dictatorship, one of those biting examples of ironical fate which the historian has never yet taken into sufficient account. We may be certain of one thing, however, that the good people of Essex are as alive now to their liberties and privileges as they were then, and should the country ever be menaced again by a foreign or an insidious foe at home, the grit and muscle so conspicuous by Thames side, will have to be reckoned with.

On the way back to Stanford the cyclist will do well to leave the church on his right hand, and take the turning to the left, which will bring him by a country road down the hill to Mucking. This in spite of its name-is another idyllic Essex village, situated at the head of a small creek and nestling down by a sort of semi-tidal swamp, with a bit of rough gorse-covered common rising in pleasing contract above it.

The low-towered little church is partly surrounded by several big homesteads with their spacious barns and farmyards (how large they are in this part of the world), and across the marsh stands another typical Essex farm-house. Gabled, red-tiled, and white-plastered it might be a picture torn straight out of one of Caldecott's favourite sketch books. From the bridge across the tideway a more charming rural scene could not be conceived, but the brush of the artist is still lacking to immortalise a theme in jeopardy any day of being vulgarised, if not destroyed. Happily, however, Mucking has so far escaped the notice of the demoralising landjobbers. Here a little more attention must be paid to the Church. For in the south aisle is a small Jacobean monument which deserves mention.

It represents the kneeling figure of a certain Dame Elizabeth Downes, and is so delicate a piece of workmanship, that for a moment one feels as if transported to Italy. But the lady was eminently English, the inscription records "that she lived happily with four husbands, and died in 1667." She is indeed worthy of commemoration!

From Mucking we now take a spin of two miles to our second and last undiscovered corner-the long low promontory which stretches, as we have said, to the Thames, and at the extreme point of which East Tilbury is reached.

East Tilbury, unlike the other villages visited, is void of anything beautiful or picturesque, except the curious old parish church, and even this looks better at a distance, especially from the deck of a passing vessel.

The village consists of a straggling street, flanked by mean

shabby cottages, extending along the top of the narrow hill which ends in a breezy knoll crowned by the church. Indeed, from its exposed position, this structure appears to have been battered byal! the storms of centuries. The south aisle has fallen away. The tower was long ago demolished by the guns of the Dutch fleet, when it sailed up the Thames in the reign of the second Charles. Perhaps the crews of the eel boats that pass here at the present time on their way from Holland to London, still regard with pride a scene that to this day bears traces of their nation's former prowess and supremacy!

But if there is little beauty in East Tilbury itself, it offers an unrivalled panorama, embracing the glorious sweep of the Estuary from Sea Reach to Gravesend. Moreover there is something eminently romantic in its remarkable situation, for it is one of the very few Essex villages that actually touches the main channel of the Thames.

From London below bridges, all the places of any importance lie on the other side of the river. This, of course, is owing to the out-crop of chalk-beds on the Kentish shore, and the consequent more advantageous and convenient sites it affords, in comparison with the alluvial flats of the county opposite.

And so whilst towns and ports, and palaces sprang up in succession all along those more favoured banks, and Deptford, Greenwich, Woolwich, Erith, Greenhithe, and Gravesend made their names famous wherever Thames was mentioned, the lowlying marshes of Essex were left for centuries in complete solitude, tenanted only by the ruminating herds of countless cattle that found so rich and ample a pasturage behind the massive sea-walls.

But below Gravesend flats commence to predominate also to the South, and the first solid ground the seaman actually encountered as he formerly sailed up the Thames was the little promontory at which we have arrived. There must always have been a possible landing-place here, and accordingly we find that from earliest times East Tilbury began to assume some degree of importance.

An old tradition obtains that at this spot St. Cedd-the apostle of East Saxons-first set foot ashore. Under Henry IV. the town, as it was then termed, was deemed of sufficient importance to be protected by a fort, for the French apparently had been troublesome. Embankments were also raised to defend it from a still more stubborn foe -the devastating action of encroaching sea-floods. Ever since then, though Gravesend soon supplanted it as a port, East Tilbury has never been without some kind of fortification, and at the present time the Government are enlarging and strengthening the works, as part of the great scheme for the defence of London and its approach by sea.

I forbear to make any remarks concerning the Dene-holes in the vicinity. Such a subject is fraught with too much mystery, although its solution may very likely be much simpler than the

minds of certain savants would seem inclined to allow. Nor have I mentioned the Roman remains existing on the promontory, viz., a causeway and a cemetery noticed by Murray in his Handbook. It is the entrancing prospect and the bleak, unvisited nature of the place, almost pathetic in its loneliness, which attracts, and owing to which East Tilbury may still preserve its interesting if desolate appearance for some years to come. Much might be written about many other old-world villages around, but space will not permit. West Tilbury on its bluff, reminds us of the camp in Armada days, and Queen Elizabeth's never-to-be-forgotten speech to her soldiers. Chadwell boasts of a spring dedicated to Saint Cedd, and West Thurrock, with its isolated church on the marshes, now perpetually enveloped in the smoke and fume of neighbouring chimneys, recalls the days of Canterbury Pilgrims.

But these and many other riparian hamlets are all doomed in time to disappear, and the smiling villages of a once radiant riverside will finally be buried in a concretion of suburban villas, brick terraces, and teeming factories. Let us note and admire them while we may; for ere long they will have vanished, and be lost beyond all possible recovery.

LEYTONSTONE AND

WANSTEAD.

A SUGGESTED DERIVATION OF THE

IN

NAMES

TAVERNS.

N these two parishes, on the borders of Epping Forest, there are two taverns or inns with apparently totally dissimilar titles, yet to the antiquary both names indicate the same or nearly the same thing. I refer to the "Green Man " Inn, Leytonstone, and the "Woodhouse" Inn, in the parish of Wanstead, very near the edge of Wanstead Flats. Both these taverns are at about the same distance from the site of Wanstead House, and quite close to the precincts of the park where Sir Richard Child planted those avenues of trees, the remains of which are still to be seen stretching from Bush Wood across the Wanstead Flats. Joseph Strutt in his Sports and Pastimes, g ves two pictures

xxxii. 29

1

which are reproduced here. One shows a "Green Man," the other a " Wodehouse"; Strutt appends the following notes:

In speaking of fireworks I have mentioned some of the actors formerly concerned in the pyrotechnic shows. Those said to have been aboard the City Foyst or Galley are called " Monstrous Wilde Men," others are frequently distinguished by the appellation of "Green Men." Both of these were men whimsically attired and disguised with droll masks, having large staves or clubs, headed with cases of crackers.

The engraving of a "Green Man," representing the character equipped in his proper habit and flourishing his firework, was reproduced by Strutt from a Book of Fireworks, written by John

Bate, and published in 1635. Of the "Wodehouse" represented, Strutt says:

This character, which was that of a wild or savage man, was very common in the pageants of former times and seems to have been very popular. It was in a dress like this that probably Gascoyne appeared before Queen Elizabeth at Kenilworth at the entertainment in 1575. This figure of a " Wodehouse" is taken from a ballad in black letter entitled "The Mad Merry pranks of Robin Goodfellow." Bishop Percy, probably with great justice, supposes it to have been one of the stage disguisements for the representation of this facetious spirit.

In Nicholls Progresses of Queen Elizabeth (Vol. I.), there is a full account of the appearance of Thomas Gascoyne at Kenil