To one living in the hilliest and most picturesque part of Hampshire and Sussex this first glimpse came as a disappointment.  I saw below me an island so flat as to make it appear difficult to tell where the land ended and where the water began.  Save for a few trees and some scattered houses there was little to break the dreariness of it, while, the tide being out (as I afterwards learnt), long expanses of mud on either side increased this aspect of monotonous desolation. At the far end of the island I could distinguish the cluster of houses that formed the town.  At the near end was a narrow creek, which we must needs cross to gain our destination, while away on the right was a square tower, which, they told me, was the castle of Portchester.