Way. There is, however, very little to detain us; only the Chapel of
St Bartholomew to the south of the High Street is worth a visit for
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