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Excerpt from The Old House at Sandwich: A Novel
I AM making a summer holiday excursion about a corner of the pastoral county of Kent and come upon the quaint, old-fashioned port of Sandwich. I am impressed with the remarkable way in which it has retired from the sea, gone inland, as it were, like a mi grated city; gone inland, nursing its strange history and traditions, its memories of Elizabeth and the Armada, its memories of battle, murder, and sudden death; nursing as it were, its commercial and social disappointments, and retiring altogether from a sea-faring life. I wander about the old place and note its curious waterways, that wind about the town, forming natural moats to streets and houses; and in one instance excavating for itself a passage beneath the dining-room of an ingenious resident who, by the contrivance of a trap-door, converts it into a convenient Wine-cooler for summer din ner parties.
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