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its name, and mark the old-fashioned gables and thatched roofs that still flourish here with a primitive simplicity, with a straggling villager, perchance, as old-fashioned as the rest, drawn aside from his chimney-nook by the unwonted apparition of a stranger. All is so still and indicative of peaceful seclusion, that one would hardly imagine four miles and a-half would plunge us into the midst of the fashionable wateringplace whither we are now going. Such, however, is the walk before us, and deviating into that deliciously cool green lane, with a finger-post to guide us, we thence strike across the fields, and in whatever time our companion's rate of pedestrianism will admit, reach the noble harbour of Ramsgate, with as delightful a retrospection of the walk thither as may serve, we hope, both as a zest to the repast which many a famous hostel here has enjoyed some celebrity in providing, and a justification of the suggestion that we put forth at the

commencement.

There is no occasion to go far back into history when tracing the origin of Ramsgate. It was little better than a mere fishing village before the close of the last century, and all the noble streets and terraces stretching seaward are the growth of the present. Its prosperity has been literally built on a sandy foundation, more permanent than the adage would teach us to believe, for the sands, which are really unequalled for extent, were long the prominent attraction of visitors. In 1759 was commenced the pier, built chiefly of stone from the Purbeck and Portland quarries, involving an expenditure of nearly £600,000. This stupendous structure affords an excellent marine promenade of nearly three thousand feet in length. The form is that of a polygon, with the two extremities about two hundred feet apart. The harbour comprises an

area of nearly fifty acres, and can receive vessels of five hundred tons at any state of the tide. The first object that arrests attention at the entrance to the eastern branch of the pier is the obelisk, fifty feet in height, which commemorates the embarkation of George IV. from here on his Hanoverian excursion in 1821. The next is a tablet, at the octagonal head, setting forth the name of the engineer and the dates of the erection. Opposite is the lighthouse, casting at night a brilliant reflection over the dark waste of waters, and forming a striking feature in the scenery of the coast. Far away, like a phosphoric gleam upon the channel, is the floating beacon called "the Gull," which, with two smaller ones, near Deal, become visible after dusk from the pier. Eight seamen and a captain, who has only occasionally a month's leave of absence, are entrusted with the management of the beacon, and in this desolate and dangerous region they are doomed to battle with the elements at all seasons, cheered alone by the reflection that through their vigilance thousands are perhaps annually preserved from the perils of shipwreck. The Goodwin sands, traditionally said to have been the estate of Earl Godwin, father of King Harold, form the roadstead called the Downs, and extend from the North Foreland to Deal, but as they are continually shifting, under the influence of the winds and waves, their exact locality can never be ensured.

Nowhere is the accommodation for bathers more perfect than at Ramsgate, whether the green bosom of the Channel be selected for a plunge, or a private bath chosen instead. Most of these establishments, where baths can be had at all hours, are elegantly fitted up with hot air stoves, luxuriant ottomans, and refectories and reading-rooms adjacent. A communication with the upper portions of the town, built upon the high

range of cliffs, is formed by two convenient flights of stone steps, called Augusta Stairs and Jacob's Ladder. The lawny esplanade that has been formed before the crescents facing the sea enables a promenader to obtain an ample sea view, and the Downs being continually studded with shipping, the picture is generally extremely varied and animated. Some elegant churches in the florid gothic style, and numerous places of Dissenting worship, are to be met with in convenient situations about the town, and in Harbour-street is the new Town Hall, erected in 1839, with a capacious market underneath, teeming with every kind of comestible of various degrees of excellence. Boarding-houses, hotels, and dining-rooms are in the usual watering-place abundance, and the limits of expenditure may be adjusted to the depth of every purse. The bazaars and libraries provide evening amusement in abundance, through the agency of music and raffles; and though the books partake of the elder Minerva press school of composition, and the raffling is generally for articles of indifferent worth, the excitement attendant upon both is quite sufficient for sea-side denizens. To borrow a versified comment on a subject so little diversified in itself, it may be said

There's a library built on the brow of a hill,

Or rather 'tis perched on the top of a rock;
Old novels the shelves of its reading-room fill,
Clocks, vases, et cetera, serve for its stock.
And though these old novels belong to the past,
The pliant subscribers keep reading them on,

So these very old novels preserve to the last

All the value of new when their novelty's gone.

No one of course would think of stopping a week at Ramsgate without going to Pegwell Bay, where the savoury shrimps

and country-made brown bread and butter are supposed to have been brought to the very highest degree of perfection. And for a quiet stroll in another direction there is Broadstairs, two miles to the north-east, very genteel and very dull; the aspect of this "exceedingly select" place of residence being so imposingly quiet as to make one involuntarily walk about on tip-toe for fear of violating the solemn sanctity of the place. It is, however, a very agreeable excursion for a day, and an excellent plan is to go by the path across the cliffs, past the elegant mansion of Sir Moses Montefiore, and return by the sands at low water. The old arch of York gate, built by the Culmer family in the reign of Henry VIII., is the sole vestige of the once extensive fortifications that bristled up at the back of the old quay. There was a pier, too, swept away by the terrific storm in 1808, which destroyed that of Margate, but the rough wooden substitute is not the less picturesque, and there is a fine wholesome odour of sea-weed about the old rugged rafters, enough to make one willing to forego the fashionable for the fragrant. A mile beyond is Kingsgate, where Charles II. landed, and furnished a pretext for endowing it with a regal title. There is a snug inn on the top of the cliff, and a fine view besides, but few would care for more than a few hours' sojourn at this sombre-looking spot. Another mile, and the North Foreland lighthouse, 63 feet in height, may be reached, and entered too, if the curious visitor will disburse a small gratuity to the keeper. It is well worthy of inspection. St. Peter's, the Wilderness, and a variety of delightful pleasure-grounds, rejoicing in the strangest freaks of nomenclature, are now scattered round the path of the wayfarer, and the sound of merry minstrelsy is often heard of a summer eve disturbing the echoes round about. By the cir

cuitous but pleasant route we have indicated the pedestrian can, if he pleases, proceed on to Margate, which, we need hardly add, is also now connected by railway with its more fashionable sister-port, Ramsgate; and coaches and omnibuses maintain a constant communication besides.

There is not, in the whole range of our sea-side physiology, a more lively, bustling place than this said Margate: albeit, by those who are fettered down to cold formalities, and regard laughter as a positive breach of good breeding, it is pronounced to be essentially and irredeemably vulgar. The streets are always a scene of continued excitement, and troops of roguish, ruddy-cheeked urchins, escorted by their mamas or their nursery-maids, traverse every thoroughfare about the town from morning until night. There is a theatre also, and a kind of minor Vauxhall, called the Tivoli, where those who care little for out-of-door enjoyments can spend a passable hour in such dramatic and musical gratifications as the artists and the place can best afford. Bazaars and marine libraries afford too, in "the season," the latest metropolitan vocal novelties; and the same raffling and rattling of dice-boxes, to test fortune's favoritism, is carried on as at Ramsgate, but with a greater spirit of freedom and earnestness. In short, for

those who do not go to the coast for retirement, and who like to have an atmosphere of London life surrounding them at the sea-side, there is no place where their desires can be so easily and comprehensively gratified as here.

The increasing extent and importance of the town makes one regard the traditions told of its early origin as being nearly akin to the fabulous, yet a few centuries back, known to the local chroniclers as coeval with the period of " onceupon-a-time," Margate was a small fishing village, with a few

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