Bishop Gundulph’s sake, for he founded it.  Even here, however, only the eastern end is ancient.  The parish church of Our Lady was for the most part rebuilt in 1788, but it still keeps a good Norman door to the south of the nave.  It was here that Our Lady had in Chaucer’s day a very famous shrine concerning which the following rather gruesome legend is told.  The body of a man, no doubt a criminal or suicide, having been cast upon the beach in this parish, was buried here in the churchyard.  Our Lady of Chatham, however, was offended thereby, and by night went Herself to the house of the clerk and awakened him.  And when he would all trembling know wherefor She was come.  She answered that near to Her shrine an unshriven and sinful person had been laid, which thing offended Her, for he did naught but grin in ghastly fashion.  Therefore unless he were removed She Herself must withdraw from that place.  The Clerk arose hurriedly we may be sure, and, going with Our Lady along towards the church, it happened that She grew weary and rested in a bush or tree by the wayside, and ever after this bush was green all the winter through.  But the Clerk, going on, dug up the body and flung it back into the water from which it had so lately been drawn.

Now, as to this story, all I have to say of it is that I do not believe a word of it.  Not because I am blinded by any sentimentalism of to-day, which, as in a child’s story, brings all right for everyone in the end; but for this very cogent reason that of all created beings Our Lady is the most merciful, loving and tender—­Refugium Peccatorum.

Also I know a better story.  For it is said that one day Our Lord was walking with Sampietro in Paradise, as the Padrone may do with his Fattore, when after a while He said, not as complaining exactly but as stating a fact, “Sampietro, this place is going down!”

Here Sampietro, who is always impetuous and knew very well what He meant, dared to interrupt, “Il Santissimo can’t blame me,” said he huffily.  “Il Santissimo does not suppose they all come in by the gate? Che Che!”

“Not come in by the gate, Sampietro.  What do you mean?” said Our Lord.  “If Il Santissimo will but step this way, round by these bushes,” said Sampietro, “He shall see.”  And there sure enough He saw; for there was Our Lady drawing us all up helter-skelter, pell-mell, willy-nilly into Heaven in a great bucket, to our great gain and undeserved good.  O clemens, O pia, O dulcis Virgo Maria.

The road between Chatham and Sittingbourne might seem to be unquestionably that by which the pilgrims rode, and as certainly the Roman highway.  It is, however, rather barren of mediaeval interest, little being left to us older than the change of religion.  At Rainham we have a church, however, dedicated in honour of St Margaret, parts of which date from the thirteenth century, though in the main it is a Perpendicular building.  Within are two ornaments of the late