Yarmouth from the rustic inhabitants of my native village. In this respect, if I remember aright, the family of Shelley were particularly distinguished. One dear old lady, who lived at the Quay, was emphatically the minister’s friend. She had a nice house of her own and ample means, and there she welcomed ministers and their wives and children. It is to be hoped, for the sake of poor parsons, that such people still live. I know it was a great treat to me to enjoy the hospitality of the kind-hearted Mrs. Goderham, for whose memory I still cherish an affectionate regard. To live in one of the best houses on the Quay, and to lie in my bed and to see through the windows the masts of the shipping, was indeed to a boy a treat. A little while ago I chanced to be at Norwich, when the thought naturally occurred to me that I would take a run to Yarmouth—a journey quickly made by the rail. In my case the journey was safely and expeditiously accomplished, and I hastened once more to revisit the scenes and associations of my youth. Alas! wherever I went I found changes. A new generation had arisen that knew not Joseph. The wind was howling down the Quay; the sand was blown into my mouth, my nose, my ears; I could scarcely see for the latter, or walk for the former; but, nevertheless, I made my way to the pier. Only one person was on it, and his back was turned to me. As he stood at the extreme end, with chest expanded, with mouth wide open, as if prepared to swallow the raging sea in front and the Dutch coast farther off, I thought I knew the figure. It was a reporter from Fleet Street and he was the only man to greet me in the town I once knew so well. Yes; the Yarmouth of my youth was gone. Then a reporter from Fleet Street was an individual never dreamt of. And so the world changes, and we get new men, fresh faces, other minds. The antiquarian Camden, were he to revisit Yarmouth, would not be a little astonished at what he would see. He wrote: ‘As soon as the Yare has passed Claxton, it takes a turn to the south, that it may descend more gently into the sea, by which means it makes a sort of little tongue or slip of land, washt on one side by itself, on the other side by the sea. In this slip, upon an open shore, I saw Yarmouth, a very neat harbour and town, fortified both by the nature of the place and the contrivance of art. For, though it be almost surrounded with water, on the west with a river, over which there is a drawbridge, and on either side with the sea, except to the north, where it is joined to the continent; yet it is fenced with strong, stately walls, which, with the river, figure it into an oblong quadrangle. Besides the towers upon these, there is a mole or mount, to the east, from whence the great guns command the sea (scarce half a mile distant) all round. It has but one church, though very large and with a stately high spire, built near the north gate by Herbert,