As the far more ancient, and once immeasurably more important town of Sandwich, decayed, so Ramsgate grew; but, although Ramsgate has long been a considerable town and has now a population exceeding 28,000, still increasing, it was only incorporated so recently as 1884, and is still in some respects merely a “Ville of Sandwich,” whose population is less than 4,000. Thus is the link maintained with the ancient tale of the Cinque Ports, when Sandwich was great and powerful and Ramsgate a mere fishing-village. The commercial beginnings of Ramsgate are found in the construction of the harbour, between 1749 and 1761. The town then rapidly grew; although the cost of dredging and maintaining the depth of water rendered Ramsgate harbour dues among the heaviest in existence--an undesirable prominence still maintained. The obelisk by the quayside was erected in 1822 in memory of the embarkation of George the Fourth for Hanover--not one of the great events of history. Five years later the parish church of St. George was built: one of the works of Augustus Welby Pugin. Its lofty lantern-tower, prominent in the High Street, is fine and rather foreign-looking; but, with the rest of the building, looks better at a distance, the material being common stock-brick, and the architectural details very poor. Pugin, one of the great figures of the Gothic revival in the beginning of the nineteenth century, has long since been out-distanced by more scholarly and more artistic architects. He was a Roman Catholic pervert, and oddly divided in his appreciations. “There is nothing worth living for,” he said, “but Christian architecture and a boat.” He was an enthusiastic sailor, and was in appearance the very ideal of a pilot. He designed the Roman Catholic church and monastery of St. Augustine, at the very extremity of the West Cliff, overlooking Pegwell Bay, and died at his villa, “The Grange,” adjoining, in 1854. Truth compels the addition that his Gothic church, however highly it was once thought of by himself and others-- he considered it his best work--is extremely poor, alike in design and in the use of the materials--black flint and stone--employed. He seems not to have possessed that sense of texture in the use of materials without which even the best design looks poor. It is safe to say that even the most moderately equipped architectural student of to-day could do better. These remarks are applicable enough here, although we have only arrived yet at the East Cliff; because, cresting this cliff, is the great Granville Hotel, which was also designed by Pugin and was once also considered a wonderful example of design. You may note how highly Pugin was then thought of by the bust of him on the promenade in front.