Aldington church tower rises in stately massiveness amid the plain of Aldington Frith--“Aldington Fright,” as the country people call it. It is a noble, though an unfinished building, begun about 1507, and in progress until 1537. Those were not favourable times for new church works, and the Archbishop’s palace--one of his many palaces-- close by, dated its decay from the same period. Nothing is left of his park of more than a thousand acres, and of the palace itself, its five kitchens, eight dove-houses, six stables, nine barns, and other appurtenances on an equally generous scale, nothing now remains but some few architectural fragments built into the walls of a comparatively modern house. Aldington is notable not only from its connection with the story of the Holy Maid, but also because Erasmus was rector here for a short period. His appointment in 1511 by Archbishop Warham was something in the nature of a scandal, however well-meaning its object, which was to provide him, as a learned, but poor, scholar, with a livelihood. Erasmus was a Dutchman, quite ignorant of the English language, however well versed in Latin; and either his awakened conscience, or the growing indignation of the people of Aldington at having a tongue-tied alien thrust upon them, presently led to his resigning. A charge of £20 per annum, then a large sum, fully equal to £200 present value, was then made upon the living, and paid by his successor for his support. After a short interval, Richard Masters, who figured prominently in the affair of the Holy Maid, was appointed, and with varying fortunes he held the rectory until his death, in 1558. Beyond this we may fitly turn down again to the Marsh, past Bonnington church, a tiny building standing close beside the Military Canal. Thence across the levels, by winding roads, the way goes to Newchurch, “new” so long ago that the origin is lost in antiquity. It is a typical Marshland village, and the heavy tower of the church itself leans forward in a manner suggesting imminent collapse. It has probably suggested the same idea for three hundred years, or more; and so there is certainly no immediate danger. Hereabouts the sheep are the chief animate objects. Romney Marsh was ever a region famous for its flocks, and from the earliest times the smugglers who smuggled wool out of the country, regardless of the strict penal laws against the exportation of fleeces, were more important than those who smuggled goods inwards. They had their own special designation, and were known as “owlers,” probably in the first instance from their signalling in the night with calls like those of the owls. [Illustration: BONNINGTON CHURCH.]