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Updated: May 11, 2025
Now that suitable accommodation is provided for stray visitors, Hythe, with its clean beach, its parade that will presently join hands with Sandgate, its excellent bathing, and its bracing air, may look to take high rank among watering places suburban to London. But there are greater charms even than these in the immediate neighbourhood.
Whilst at Sandgate Mrs Borrow became acquainted with John Murray, the son of the founder of the publishing house from which, forty-four years later, were to be published the books of her second son, then unborn. She begs leave to send her kind remembrances to Mr Murray. Is not this funny? Does it not 'beat the Union, as the Yankees say?"
"That was my opinion also," I replied. She was one of a mob, composed of all the unoccupied riff-raff of Folkestone, who were following the band of the Third Berkshire Infantry, then in camp at Sandgate. There was an ecstatic, far-away look in her eyes. She was dancing rather than walking, and with her left hand she beat time to the music."
It was not a gracefully eaten lunch, and yet it served to brush away much of the restraint that lay between them. When the hills of Sandgate were visible he said, "I have an hour before the returning train, and just time enough to see you safely home." Alice looked at him with surprise. "And that is your idea of my hospitality," she exclaimed, "to let you go away like that?
She was engaged to be married to a quiet, respectable young fellow with a shop of his own, and three days before the wedding she ran off with a regiment of marines and married the colour-sergeant. That's what I shall end by doing. I've been all the way to Sandgate with that lot you saw me with, and I've kissed four of them the nasty wretches.
At Sandgate is a well designed "horse and jockey" vane on a flagstaff, in a garden about fifty yards from where the ill-fated sailing ship, the Benvenue, went ashore and sank, and which was blown up by order of the Admiralty only last autumn. Dover, too, has its share of interesting vanes; perhaps the one belonging to St. Mary the Virgin is the best.
We were royally entertained by our new comrades and soon became great friends. Shorncliffe is situated on a high hill just over the town of Sandgate and about two miles from the school of musketry at Hythe. We were quartered in huts, which were very comfortable but not to be compared with our last quarters.
"Who are you, youngster?" shouted one of the men as they came near. "Master Cheveley, son of the Vicar of Sandgate," I answered. "Why, he looks more like the ghost of a miller," said one of the men. "How did you get up there?" inquired the first speaker a head boatman in charge of the party. "I got up out of a vault where the smugglers put me," I answered.
The income from his practice was scarcely enough to clothe him and not likely to increase, for Sandgate had scant use for a lawyer; and what to do, or which way to turn, he knew not. If it were not for Alice and Aunt Susan he thought it would be easier, but they must be provided for.
It was nearly dark and snowing when they reached Sandgate, and when he saw a plump girlish figure with slightly whitened garments rush forward, almost jump into his friend's arms, and kiss him vehemently, it occurred to him that a welcome home by such a sister was worth coming many miles for.
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