The village stands high and dry above the water level, extended in long line quite like a seaside town.
Excursionists come too, as to a watering place, but they bring rods and creels and return at night with fish for the pan.
Between Pulborough and Petworth lie Stopham and Fittleworth, both on the Rother, which joins the Arun a little to the west of Pulborough.

Stopham has the most beautiful bridge in Sussex, dating from the fourteenth century, and a little church filled with memorials of the Bartelott family.

One of Stopham's rectors was Thomas Newcombe, a descendant of the author of _The Faerie Queene_, the friend of the author of _Night Thoughts_, and the author himself of a formidable poem in twelve books, after Milton, called _The Last Judgment_.
Fittleworth has of late become an artists' Mecca, partly because of its pretty woods and quaint architecture, and partly because of the warm welcome that is offered by the "Swan," which is probably the most ingeniously placed inn in the world.

Approaching it from the north it seems to be the end of all things; the miles of road that one has travelled apparently have been leading nowhere but to the "Swan." Runaway horses or unsettled chauffeurs must project their passengers literally into the open door.

Coming from the south, one finds that the road narrows by this inn almost to a lane, and the "Swan's" hospitable sign, barring the way, exerts such a spell that to enter is a far simpler matter than to pass.
[Illustration: _At Pulborough._] [Sidenote: AN IRRESISTIBLE INN] The "Swan" is a venerable and rambling building, stretching itself lazily with outspread arms; one of those inns (long may they be preserved from the rebuilders!) in which one stumbles up or down into every room, and where eggs and bacon have an appropriateness that make them a more desirable food than ambrosia.