Carshalton's greatest man lies in a nameless grave. Admiral Sir Edward Whitaker, leader of the assault which first made Gibraltar a British fortress, used to spend his summers at Carshalton, and was buried in Carshalton churchyard, but the slab which marked his grave was moved and lost when the church was enlarged. He was forty-four when with Captain Jumper and Captain Hicks he led his men against the redoubt, and he was as brilliant a fighter as he was a poor speller. I quote from a letter he wrote describing the siege and assault to his friend Sir Richard Haddock, Comptroller of the Navy, a day or two after the action:-- "There was three small ships in the old mold, one of which annoyed our camp by firing amongst them. One having about 10 guns, lying close to the mold, and just under a great bastion at the north corner of the towne, I proposed to Sir George the burning her in the night. He liked itt: accordingly ordered what boats I would have to my assistance: and about 12 at night I did itt effectually, w^th the loss of but one man, and 5 or 6 wounded. _July 23._--At 4 this morning, adm^l Byng began w^th his ships to cannonade, a Dutch rear-adm^l and 5 or 6 ships of thairs along w^th him, w^ch made a noble noise, being within half shott of the town. My ship, not being upon service, I desired Sir George to make me his _aducon_ to carry his commands, from tyme to tyme, to adm^l Byng, which he did.... P.S. This is rite all in a hurry, sir, y^t I hope you'le excuse me." The aide-de-camp had not forgotten the concluding formula of the schoolboy complete letter-writer. Beyond Carshalton is Sutton, not less exuberant than Croydon. The Cock Hotel of coaching days has been rebuilt; the railway is convenient for Epsom or London. CHAPTER XXXVI CHALDON TO THE DOWNS Coulsdon.--A giant Christian prince.--Chaldon.--The Ladder of Life.--The Brig of Whinney Moor.--Chipstead.--Merstham.--A Wizard Rector.--Addington.--The little churches.--Horne Tooke's _Diversions_. It is possible to escape from Croydon's railway-stations. You can push out from its ringing streets into green and quiet country, and find little old churches within a mile or two of the railway, as undisturbed as if no railway were yet running. You may leave the line at Purley, and within an hour's walk find yourself in the wind on the downs, among Anglo-Saxon barrows and immemorial yews; you may even be able (though not without thought) to exclude from a generous view of hill and valley the enormous lunatic asylums which fate and County Councils have piled and multiplied in this part of Surrey.