There is no subject more pleasing to the thoughtful mind than a
contemplation of the changes wrought by time on the face of
nature—and few places present a more ample field for such
retrospective meditation than the site of Beccles. The spectator
beholds from the bold promontory on which it stands a wide and
fertile valley, smiling beneath the industry of man. He sees
churches, villages, and mansions, thickly studded along its
wooded banks, and a winding silvery stream bearing on its bosom
the peaceful sail of commerce. Here and there appears the silken
pennon of the pleasure-boat fluttering in the breeze, or the
patient angler pursuing his "contemplative recreation." A
spacious church, encircled by a thriving, well-built town,
bounds the nearer view, and completes the picture of the present
day. In remoter ages how different was the scene. Then this
tranquil valley lay buried beneath a broad impetuous arm of the
sea, whose mighty tides bore along the hostile bark of the
ruthless Dane, intent on violence and