Those who built these churches in the wild country where they lived and died, availed themselves of the best materials which they could get. The roads were wretchedly bad, and for many months in the year they were impassable by heavy loads of stones; so they hewed down their finest oaks which were near at hand, and cut out the choicest and hardest pieces, the heart of the wood, and with these they covered the framework of the edifice. These shingles, as they are called, have done their duty well; they have resisted the wear and tear of the elements, the expanding heat of summer, and contracting cold of winter, for centuries. Those who would wish to know how gigantic were the oaks of Kent and Sussex in olden time, would do well to mount the steps into the belfry; a more curious sight than the interior of that part of the building can scarcely be found anywhere; arches of timber of enormous size meet together at the top, which is like the keystone of some chapel, and these, which are as sound as when they were placed there, more than four hundred years ago, support the whole weight of the fabric above.
   There are other features of interest, too, connected with this church. From Michaelmas to Ladytide the bell from the old steeple is tolled every morning at five, and every evening at eight o'clock, telling with iron tongue the hour; and we may well suppose that in this wild district, its sounds, heard far and wide, may have guided many a bewildered traveller towards a place of shelter.¹ Nor is this the only thing peculiar. By the side of the pulpit stands the framework of an hour-glass, with its broken glass within, that more striking symbol of the lapse of time than the modern timepiece, reminding
   ¹ The small sum of twenty shillings was charged annually upon an estate in the parish, about a hundred and fifty years ago, by a person of the name of Still, to be paid to the clerk or sexton for the performance of this duty; and if declined by them, there are always competitors for it.