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Title: England, Picturesque and Descriptive - A Reminiscence of Foreign Travel
Author: Cook, Joel, 1842-1910
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

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[Illustration: _Frontispiece_








  [Illustration: OLD MILL AT SELBORNE.]


















  This Work on England,




No land possesses greater attractions for the American tourist than
England. It was the home of his forefathers; its history is to a great
extent the history of his own country; and he is bound to it by the
powerful ties of consanguinity, language, laws, and customs. When the
American treads the busy London streets, threads the intricacies of the
Liverpool docks and shipping, wanders along the green lanes of
Devonshire, climbs Alnwick's castellated walls, or floats upon the
placid bosom of the picturesque Wye, he seems almost as much at home as
in his native land. But, apart from these considerations of common
Anglo-Saxon paternity, no country in the world is more interesting to
the intelligent traveller than England. The British system of entail,
whatever may be our opinion of its political and economic merits, has
built up vast estates and preserved the stately homes, renowned castles,
and ivy-clad ruins of ancient and celebrated structures, to an extent
and variety that no other land can show. The remains of the abbeys,
castles, churches, and ancient fortresses in England and Wales that war
and time together have crumbled and scarred tell the history of
centuries, while countless legends of the olden time are revived as the
tourist passes them in review. England, too, has other charms than
these. British scenery, though not always equal in sublimity and
grandeur to that displayed in many parts of our own country, is
exceedingly beautiful, and has always been a fruitful theme of song and

  "The splendor falls on castle-walls
    And snowy summits old in story:
  The long light shakes across the lakes.
    And the wild cataract leaps in glory."

Yet there are few satisfactory and comprehensive books about this land
that is so full of renowned memorials of the past and so generously
gifted by Nature. Such books as there are either cover a few counties or
are devoted only to local description, or else are merely guide-books.
The present work is believed to be the first attempt to give in
attractive form a book which will serve not only as a guide to those
about visiting England and Wales, but also as an agreeable reminiscence
to others, who will find that its pages treat of familiar scenes. It
would be impossible to describe everything within the brief compass of a
single book, but it is believed that nearly all the more prominent
places in England and Wales are included, with enough of their history
and legend to make the description interesting. The artist's pencil has
also been called into requisition, and the four hundred and eighty-seven
illustrations will give an idea, such as no words can convey, of the
attractions England presents to the tourist.

The work has been arranged in eight tours, with Liverpool and London as
the two starting-points, and each route following the lines upon which
the sightseer generally advances in the respective directions taken.
Such is probably the most convenient form for the travelling reader, as
the author has found from experience, while a comprehensive index will
make reference easy to different localities and persons. Without further
introduction it is presented to the public, in the confident belief that
the interest developed in its subject will excuse any shortcomings that
may be found in its pages.





    Liverpool--Birkenhead--Knowsley Hall--Chester--Cheshire--Eaton
    Hall--Hawarden Castle--Bidston--Congleton--Beeston Castle--The river
    Dee--Llangollen--Valle-Crucis Abbey--Dinas Bran--Wynnstay--Pont
    Cysylltau--Chirk Castle--Bangor-ys-Coed--Holt--Wrexham--The Sands o'
    Dee--North Wales--Flint Castle--Rhuddlan Castle--Mold--Denbigh--St.
    Asaph--Holywell--Powys Castle--The Menai Strait--Anglesea--Beaumaris
    Castle--Bangor--Penrhyn Castle--Plas Newydd--Caernarvon
    Castle--Ancient Segontium--Conway Castle--Bettws-y-Coed--Mount
    Snowdon--Port Madoc--Coast of Merioneth--Barmouth--St. Patrick's
    Causeway--Mawddach Vale--Cader Idris--Dolgelly--Bala
    Lake--Aberystwith--Harlech Castle--Holyhead                        17



    Lancashire--Warrington--Manchester--Furness Abbey--The
    Ribble--Stonyhurst--Lancaster Castle--Isle of
    Man--Castletown--Rusben Castle--Peele Castle--The Lake
    Country--Windermere--Lodore Fall--Derwentwater--Keswick--Greta
    Hall--Southey, Wordsworth, and Coleridge--Skiddaw---The Border
    Castles--Kendal Castle--Brougham Hall--The Solway--Carlisle
    Castle--Scaleby Castle--Naworth--Lord William Howard.              51



      The Peak of Derbyshire--Castleton--Bess of Hardwicke--Hardwicke
    Hall--Bolsover Castle--The Wye and the
    Derwent--Buxton--Bakewell--Haddon Hall--The King of the
    Peak--Dorothy Vernon--Rowsley--The Peacock Inn--Chatsworth--The
    Victoria Regia--Matlock--Dovedale--Beauchief Abbey--Stafford
    Castle--Trentham Hall--Tamworth--Tutbury Castle--Chartley
    Castle--Alton Towers--Shrewsbury Castle--Bridgenorth--Wenlock
    Abbey--Ludlow Castle--The Feathers Inn--Lichfield Cathedral--Dr.
    Samuel Johnson--Coventry--Lady Godiva and Peeping Tom--Belvoir
    Castle--Charnwood Forest--Groby and Bradgate--Elizabeth Widvile and
    Lady Jane Grey--Ulverscroft Priory--Grace Dien Abbey--Ashby de la
    Zouche--Langley Priory--Leicester Abbey and Castle--Bosworth
    Field--Edgehill--Naseby--The Land of
    --Boulton and Watt--Fotheringhay Castle--Holmby House--Bedford Castle
    --John Bunyan--Woburn Abbey and the Russells--Stowe--Whaddon Hall
    --Great Hampden--Creslow House                                     70



    The Thames Head--Cotswold Hills--Seven
    Castle--Chavenage--Shifford--Lechlade--Stanton Harcourt--Cumnor
    Hall--Fair Rosamond--Godstow Nunnery--Oxford--Oxford
    Colleges--Christ Church--Corpus Christi--Merton--Oriel--All
    College--Radcliffe Library--Bodleian
    John's--Pembroke--Oxford Churches--Oxford Castle--Carfax
    Lovel--Bicester--Eynsham--Abingdon--Radley--Bacon, Rich, and
    Abbey--Vicar of Bray--Eton College--Windsor Castle--Magna Charta
    Island--Cowey Stakes--Ditton--Twickenham--London--Fire Monument--St.
    Paul's Cathedral--Westminster Abbey--The Tower--Lollards and
    Lambeth--Bow Church--St. Bride's--Whitehall--Horse Guards--St. James
    Palace--Buckingham Palace--Kensington Palace--Houses of
    Parliament--Hyde Park--Marble Arch--Albert Memorial--South
    Kensington Museum--Royal Exchange--Bank of England--Mansion
    House--Inns of Court--British Museum--Some London Scenes--The
    Underground Railway--Holland House--Greenwich--Tilbury Fort--The
    Thames Mouth                                                      137



    Harrow--St. Albans--Verulam--Hatfield House--Lord
    Burleigh--Cassiobury--Knebworth--Great Bed of Ware--The River
    Cam--Audley End--Saffron Walden--Newport--Nell
    Gwynne--Littlebury--Winstanley--Harwich--Cambridge--Trinity and St.
    John's Colleges--Caius College--Trinity Hall--The Senate
    House--University Library--Clare College--Great St. Mary's
    Church--King's College--Corpus Christi College--St. Catharine's
    College--Queens' College--The Pitt Press--Pembroke
    College--Peterhouse--Fitzwilliam Museum--Hobson's Conduit--Downing
    College--Emmanuel College--Christ's College--Sidney-Sussex
    College--The Round Church--Magdalene College--Jesus
    College--Trumpington--The Fenland--Bury St. Edmunds--Hengrave
    Hall--Ely--Peterborough--Crowland Abbey--Guthlac--Norwich Castle and
    Cathedral--Stamford--Burghley House--George
    Forest--Robin Hood--The Dukeries--Thoresby Hall--Clumber
    Park--Welbeck Abbey--Newstead
    --Bolton Abbey--The Strid--Ripon Cathedral--Fountains Abbey--Studley
    Royal--Fountains Hall--York--Eboracum--York Minster--Clifford's
    Tower--Castle Howard--Kirkham Priory--Flamborough
    Head--Scarborough--Whitby Abbey--Durham Cathedral and Castle--St.
    Cuthbert--The Venerable Bede--Battle of Neville's
    Castle--Newcastle-upon-Tyne--Hexham--Alnwick Castle--Hotspur and the
    Percies--St. Michael's Church--Hulne Priory--Ford Castle--Flodden
    Field--The Tweed--Berwick--Holy Isle--Lindisfarne--Bamborough--Grace
    Darling                                                           224



    The Cotswolds--The River Severn--Gloucester--Berkeley Castle--New
    Inn--Gloucester Cathedral--Lampreys--Tewkesbury; its Mustard, Abbey,
    and Battle--Worcester; its Battle--Charles II.'s Escape--Worcester
    Cathedral--The Malvern Hills--Worcestershire Beacon--Herefordshire
    Beacon--Great Malvern--St. Anne's Well--The River Wye--Clifford
    Castle--Hereford--Old Butcher's Row--Nell Gwynne's
    Birthplace--Ross--The Man of Ross--Ross Church and its Trees--Walton
    Castle--Goodrich Castle--Forest of Dean--Coldwell--Symond's
    Vat--The Dowards--Monmouth--Kymin Hill--Raglan Castle--Redbrook--St.
    Briard Castle--Tintern Abbey--The Wyncliff--Wyntour's Leap--Chepstow
    Castle--The River Monnow--The Golden Valley--The Black
    Mountains--Pontrilas Court--Ewias Harold--Abbey Dore--The Scyrrid
    Vawr--Wormridge--Kilpeck--Oldcastle--Kentchurch--Grosmont--The Vale
    of Usk--Abergavenny--Llanthony Priory--Walter Savage
    Landor--Capel-y-Ffyn--Newport--Penarth Roads--Cardiff--The
    Rocking-Stone--Llandaff--Caerphilly Castle and its Leaning
    Tower--Swansea--The Mumbles--Oystermouth Castle--Neath
    Abbey--Caermarthen--Tenby--Manorbeer Castle--Golden
    Grove--Pembroke--Milford--Haverfordwest--Milford Haven--Pictou
    Castle--Carew Castle                                              337



    Virginia Water--Sunninghill--Ascot--Wokingham--Bearwood--The London
    Times--White Horse Hill--Box Tunnel--Salisbury--Salisbury Plain--Old
    Sarum--Stonehenge--Amesbury--Wilton House--The Earls of
    Canynge--Chatterton--Clifton--Brandon Hill--Well--The
    Mendips--Jocelyn--Beckington--Ralph of Shrewsbury--Thomas Ken--The
    Cheddar Cliffs--The Wookey Hole--The Black Down--The Isle of
    Avelon--Glastonbury--Weary-all Hill--Sedgemoor--The Isle of
    Athelney--Bridgewater--Oldmixon--Monmouth's Rebellion--Weston
    Zoyland--King Alfred--Sherborne--Sir Walter Raleigh--The Coast of
    Dorset--Poole--Wareham--Isle of Purbeck--Corfe Castle--The
    Foreland--Swanage--St. Aldhelm's Head--Weymouth--Portland Isle and
    Bill--The Channel Islands--Jersey--Corbière Promontory--Mount
    Orgueil--Alderney--Guernsey--Castle Comet--The Southern Coast of
    Regis--Axminster--Sidmouth--Exmouth--Exeter--William, Prince of
    Orange--Exeter Cathedral--Bishop
    Trelawney--Dawlish--Teignmouth--Hope's Nose--Babbicombe Bay--Anstis
    Cove--Torbay--Torquay--Brixham--Dartmoor--The River
    Dart--Totnes--Berry Pomeroy Castle--Dartmouth--The River Plym--The
    Dewerstone--Plympton Priory--Sir Joshua Reynolds--Catwater
    Lighthouse--Tavistock Abbey--Buckland Abbey--Lydford Castle--The
    Northern Coast of Devon--Exmoor--Minehead--Dunster--Dunkery
    Beacon--Porlock Bay--The River Lyn--Oare--Lorna Doone--Jan
    Ridd--Lynton--Lynmouth--Castle Rock--The Devil's Cheese-Ring--Combe
    Peninsula--Falmouth--Pendennis Castle--Helston--Mullyon
    Cove--Smuggling--Kynance Cove--The Post-Office--Old Lizard
    Head--Polpeor--St. Michael's Mount--Penzance--Pilchard
    Fishery--Penwith--Land's End                                      384



    The Surrey Side--The Chalk Downs--Guildford--The Hog's Back--Albury
    Down--Archbishop Abbot--St. Catharine's Chapel--St. Martha's
    Chapel--Albury Park--John Evelyn--Henry Drummond--Aldershot
    Camp--Leith Hill--Redland's Wood--Holmwood Park--Dorking--Weller and
    the Marquis of Granby Inn--Deepdene--Betchworth Castle--The River
    Mole--Boxhill--The Fox and Hounds--The Denbies--Ranmore
    Common--Battle of Dorking--Wotton
    Church--Epsom--Reigate--Pierrepoint House--Longfield--The Weald of
    Kent--Goudhurst--Bedgebury Park--Kilndown--Cranbrook--Bloody Baker's
    Prison--Sissinghurst--Bayham Abbey--Tunbridge Castle--Tunbridge
    Wells--Penshurst--Sir Philip Sidney--Hever Castle--Anne
    Boleyn--Knole--Leeds Castle--Tenterden Steeple and the Goodwin
    Sands--Rochester--Gad's Hill--Chatham--Canterbury Cathedral--St.
    Thomas à Becket--Falstaff Inn--Isle of
    Thanet--Ramsgate--Margate--North Foreland--The Cinque
    Ports--Sandwich--Rutupiæ--Ebbsfleet--Goodwin Sands--Walmer
    Castle--South Foreland--Dover--Shakespeare's
    --Pevensey--Hailsham--Hurstmonceux Castle--Beachy Head--Brighton--The
    Aquarium--The South Downs--Dichling Beacon--Newhaven--Steyning--Wiston
    Manor--Chanctonbury Ring--Arundel Castle--Chichester--Selsey
    House--Selborne--Gilbert White; his book; his house, sun-dial, and
    church--Greatham Church--Winchester--The New
    Forest--Lyndhurst--Minstead Manor--Castle Malwood--Death of William
    Rufus--Rufus's Stone--Beaulieu
    --Netley Abbey--Calshot Castle--The Solent--Portsea
    Island--Portsmouth--Gosport--Spithead--The Isle of Wight--High
    Down--Alum Bay--Yarmouth--Cowes--Osborne
    House--Ryde--Bratling--Sandown--Shanklin Chine--Bonchurch--The
    Undercliff--Ventnor--Niton--St. Lawrence Church--St. Catharine's
    Down--Blackgang Chine--Carisbrooke
    Castle--Newport--Freshwater--Brixton--The Needles                 463



  Alton Towers                                   _Frontispiece._
  The Old Mill, Selborne                           _Title-Page._
  Market-place, Peterborough                   _After Contents._
  The Pottergate, Alnwick                                             16
  Perch Rock Light                                                    17
  St. George's Hall, Liverpool                                        19
  Chester Cathedral, Exterior                                         21
  Chester Cathedral, Interior                                         21
  Julius Cæsar's Tower, Chester                                       22
  Ancient Front, Chester                                              22
  God's Providence House, Chester                                     23
  Bishop Lloyd's Palace, Chester                                      23
  Old Lamb Row, Chester                                               23
  Stanley House, Front, Chester                                       24
  Stanley House, Rear, Chester                                        24
  Phoenix Tower, Chester                                              25
  Water Tower, Chester                                                25
  Abbey Gale, Chester                                                 26
  Ruins of St. John's Chapel, Chester                                 26
  Plas Newydd, Llangollen                                             28
  Ruins of Valle-Crucis Abbey                                         29
  Wynnstay                                                            30
  Pont Cysylltau                                                      30
  Wrexham Tower                                                       31
  The Roodee, from the Railway-bridge, Chester                        32
  The "Sands o' Dee"                                                  33
  Menai Strait                                                        36
  Beaumaris Castle                                                    37
  Bangor Cathedral                                                    37
  Caernarvon Castle                                                   39
  Conway Castle, from the Road to Llanrwst                            40
  Falls of the Conway                                                 41
  Swallow Falls                                                       42
  Llanrwst Bridge                                                     43
  Barmouth                                                            44
  Barmouth Estuary                                                    45
  Cader Idris, on the Taly-slyn Ascent                                46
  Rhayadr-y-Mawddach                                                  46
  Dolgelly                                                            47
  Owen Glendower's Parliament House, Dolgelly                         47
  Lower Bridge, Torrent Walk, Dolgelly                                48
  Bala Lake                                                           48
  Aberystwith                                                         49
  Harlech Castle                                                      50
  Old Market, Warrington                                              51
  Manchester Cathedral, from the South-east                           53
  Assize Courts, Manchester                                           54
  Royal Exchange, Manchester                                          55
  Furness Abbey                                                       56
  Castle Square, Lancaster                                            58
  Bradda Head, Isle of Man                                            59
  Kirk Bradden, Isle of Man                                           59
  Rhenass Waterfall, Isle of Man                                      60
  Castle Rushen, Isle of Man                                          61
  Peele Castle, Isle of Man                                           63
  Glimpse of Derwentwater, from Scafell                               64
  Falls of Lodore, Derwentwater                                       65
  Road through the Cathedral Close, Carlisle                          68
  View on the Torrent Walk, Dolgelly                                  69
  Peveril Castle, Castleton                                           71
  Hardwicke Hall                                                      72
  Hardwicke Hall, Elizabethan Staircase                               73
  Bolsover Castle                                                     74
  The Crescent, Buxton                                                75
  Bakewell Church                                                     76
  Haddon Hall, from the Wye                                           77
  Haddon Hall, Entrance to Banquet-hall                               78
  Haddon Hall, the Terrace                                            79
  The Peacock Inn from the Road                                       81
  Chatsworth House, from the South-west                               81
  Chatsworth House, Door to State Drawing-room                        82
  Chatsworth House, State Drawing-room                                82
  Chatsworth House, State Bedroom                                     83
  Chatsworth House, the Sculpture-gallery                             84
  Chatsworth House, Gateway to Stable                                 85
  High Tor, Matlock                                                   85
  The Straits, Dovedale                                               86
  Banks of the Dove                                                   86
  Tissington Spires, Dovedale                                         87
  Trentham Hall                                                       89
  Trentham Hall--on the Terrace                                       90
  Shrewsbury Castle, from the Railway-station                         93
  Head-quarters of Henry VII. on his Way to Bosworth
  Field, Shrewsbury                                                   94
  On Battlefield Road, Shrewsbury                                     94
  Bridgenorth, from near Oldbury                                      95
  Bridgenorth, Keep of the Castle                                     95
  Bridgenorth, House where Bishop Percy was born                      96
  Lodge of Much Wenlock Abbey                                         96
  Wenlock                                                             97
  Ludlow Castle                                                       98
  Ludlow Castle, Entrance to the Council-chamber                      99
  The Feathers Hotel, Ludlow                                         100
  Lichfield Cathedral, West Front                                    101
  Lichfield Cathedral, Interior, looking West                        101
  Lichfield Cathedral, Rear View                                     102
  Dr. Johnson's Birthplace, Lichfield                                103
  Coventry Gateway                                                   105
  Coventry                                                           106
  Ruins of Bradgate House                                            108
  Ruins of Ulverscroft Priory                                        109
  Ruins of Grace Dieu Abbey                                          110
  Leicester Abbey                                                    111
  Gateway, Newgate Street, Leicester                                 112
  Edgehill                                                           113
  Edgehill, Mill at                                                  115
  Church and Market-hall, Market Harborough                          117
  Shakespeare's House, Stratford                                     118
  Anne Hathaway's Cottage, Shottery                                  119
  Warwick Castle                                                     120
  Leicester's Hospital, Warwick                                      122
  Oblique Gables in Warwick                                          122
  Kenilworth Castle                                                  123
  St. Martin's Church, Birmingham                                    124
  Aston Hall, Birmingham                                             125
  Aston Hall, the "Gallery of the Presence"                          126
  The Town-hall, Birmingham                                          127
  Elstow, Bedford                                                    130
  Elstow Church                                                      130
  Elstow Church, North Door                                          131
  Woburn Abbey, West Front                                           132
  Woburn Abbey, the Sculpture-gallery                                133
  Woburn Abbey, Entrance to the Puzzle garden                        134
  Thames Head                                                        138
  Dovecote, Stanton Harcourt                                         140
  Cumnor Churchyard                                                  141
  Godstow Nunnery                                                    142
  Magdalen College, Oxford, from the Cherwell                        143
  Magdalen College, Stone Pulpit                                     144
  Magdalen College, Bow Window                                       144
  Gable at St. Aldate's College, Oxford                              144
  Dormer Window, Merton College, Oxford                              144
  Gateway of Christ Church College, Oxford                           145
  Merton College Chapel, Oxford                                      146
  Merton College Gateway                                             146
  Oriel College, Oxford                                              147
  Magdalen College Cloisters, Oxford                                 148
  Magdalen College, Founders' Tower                                  149
  Magdalen College                                                   150
  New College, Oxford, from the Garden                               151
  New College                                                        152
  The Radcliffe Library, from the Quadrangle of Brasenose, Oxford    152
  Dining-hall, Exeter College, Oxford                                153
  Trinity College Chapel, Oxford                                     153
  Window in St. John's College, Garden Front, Oxford                 154
  Tower St. John's College, Oxford                                   154
  St. Mary the Virgin, from High Street, Oxford                      155
  All Saints, from High Street, Oxford                               156
  Carfax Conduit                                                     157
  Iffley Mill                                                        157
  Iffley Church                                                      158
  Cromwell's Parliament-house, Banbury                               159
  Berks and Wilts Canal                                              160
  Chaucer's House, Woodstock                                         161
  Old Remains at Woodstock                                           162
  Blenheim Palace, from the Lake                                     163
  Bicester Priory                                                    165
  Bicester Market                                                    166
  Cross at Eynsham                                                   166
  Entrance to Abingdon Abbey                                         167
  Radley Church                                                      168
  The Thames at Clifton-Hampden                                      170
  Bray Church                                                        171
  Eton College, from the Playing Fields                              173
  Eton College, from the Cricket-ground                              173
  Windsor Castle, from the Brocas                                    174
  Windsor Castle Round Tower, West End                               175
  Windsor Castle, Queen's Rooms in South-east Tower                  176
  Windsor Castle, Interior of St. George's Chapel                    177
  Magna Charta Island                                                178
  The Monument, London                                               180
  St. Paul's Cathedral, London                                       182
  St. Paul's Cathedral, South Side                                   183
  St. Paul's Cathedral, the Choir                                    183
  St. Paul's Cathedral, Wellington Monument                          184
  Westminster Abbey, London                                          185
  Westminster Abbey, Cloisters of                                    186
  Westminster Abbey, Interior of Choir                               187
  Westminster Abbey, King Henry VII.'s Chapel                        188
  The Tower of London, Views in                                      191
  The Church of St. Peter, on Tower Green                            193
  The Lollards' Tower, Lambeth Palace, London                        194
  St. Mary-le-Bow, London                                            195
  St. Bride's, Fleet Street, London.                                 195
  Chapel Royal, Whitehall, London                                    196
  Chapel Royal, Interior of (Banqueting-hall)                        197
  The Horse Guards, from the Parade-ground, London                   198
  Gateway of St. James Palace, London                                199
  Buckingham Palace, Garden Front, London                            200
  Kensington Palace, West Front, London                              201
  Victoria Tower, Houses of Parliament, London                       203
  Interior of the House of Commons                                   204
  The Marble Arch, Hyde Park, London                                 205
  The Albert Memorial, Hyde Park                                     206
  Principal Entrance New Museum of Natural History,
    South Kensington, London                                         207
  Royal Exchange, London                                             208
  Bank of England, London                                            208
  Mansion House, London                                              209
  The Law Courts, London                                             210
  Sir Paul Finder's House, London                                    211
  Waterloo Bridge, London                                            212
  Schomberg House, London                                            213
  Statue of Sidney Herbert, Pall Mall, London                        213
  Doorway, Beaconsfield Club, London                                 214
  Cavendish Square, London                                           214
  The "Bell Inn" at Edmonton                                         215
  The "Old Tabard Inn," London.                                      216
  Holland House, South Side                                          217
  Holland House, Dining-Room                                         218
  Holland House, the Dutch Garden                                    218
  Holland House, the Library                                         219
  Holland House, Rogers's Seat in the Dutch Garden                   219
  Greenwich Hospital, from the River                                 221
  London, from Greenwich Park                                        222
  St. Albans, from Verulam                                           225
  Old Wall at Verulam                                                226
  Monastery Gate, St. Albans                                         226
  The Tower of the Abbey, St. Albans                                 227
  Staircase to Watching Gallery, St. Albans                          227
  Shrine and Watching Gallery, St. Albans                            228
  Clock Tower, St. Albans                                            229
  Barnard's Heath                                                    229
  St. Michael's, Verulam                                             230
  Queen Elizabeth's Oak, Hatfield                                    231
  Hatfield House                                                     232
  Hatfield House, the Corridor                                       233
  View through Old Gateway, Hatfield                                 234
  Audley End, Western Front                                          235
  Views in Saffron Walden                                            237
    Entrance to the Town.
  Jetties at Harwich                                                 238
  Bridge, St. John's College, Cambridge                              239
  Hall of Trinity College, Cambridge                                 241
  St. John's Chapel, Cambridge                                       242
  Back of Clare College, Cambridge                                   244
  King's College Chapel--Interior--Cambridge                         245
  King's College Chapel, Doorway of                                  246
  Scenes in Cambridge                                                247
    The Senate House.
    The Pitt Press.
    Great St. Mary's.
    The Fitzwilliam Museum.
    The Round Church.
  Gateway, Jesus College, Cambridge                                  249
  Hengrave Hall                                                      250
  Road leading to Ely Close                                          250
  Ely Cathedral, from the Railway Bridge                             251
  Old Bits in Ely                                                    252
    Old Passage from Ely Street to Cathedral Ford.
    Entrance to Prior Crawdon's Chapel.
    Old Houses In High Street.
  Peterborough Cathedral                                             253
  Peterborough Cathedral, Aisle and Choir                            254
  East End of Crowland Abbey                                         255
  Norwich Castle                                                     257
  Norwich Cathedral                                                  258
  Norwich Cathedral--the Choir, looking East                         259
  Norwich Market-place                                               260
  Burghley House                                                     261
  Lincoln Cathedral, from the South-west                             264
  "Bits" from Lincoln                                                265
    The Cloisters.
    The Angel Choir.
    The High Bridge.
  Nottingham Castle                                                  267
  Southwell Minster and Ruins of the Archbishop's Palace             268
  Southwell Minster, the Nave                                        269
  Clumber Hall                                                       271
  Welbeck Abbey                                                      272
  Newark Castle, Front                                               274
  Newark Castle and Dungeon                                          275
  Newark Market-square                                               276
  Newark Church, looking from the North                              276
  The Humber at Hull                                                 277
  House where Wilberforce was born, Hull                             278
  Beverley, Entrance-Gate                                            278
  Beverley, Market-square                                            279
  Manor House, Sheffield                                             280
  Entrance to the Cutlers' Hall, Sheffield                           281
  Edward IV.'s Chapel, Wakefield Bridge                              282
  Wakefield                                                          283
  Briggate, Leeds, looking North                                     283
  St. John's Church, Leeds                                           284
  Bolton Abbey, Gateway in the Priory                                286
  Bolton Abbey, the Churchyard                                       286
  The Strid                                                          287
  Ripon Minster                                                      288
  Studley Royal Park                                                 289
  Fountains Abbey, the Transept                                      290
  Fountains Abbey, Tower and Crypt                                   291
  Fountains Hall                                                     292
  Richmond Castle                                                    293
  The Multangular Tower and Ruins of St. Mary's Abbey, York          294
  Micklegate Bar and the Red Tower, York                             297
  York Minster                                                       298
  York Minster, the Choir                                            299
  York Minster, Tomb of Archbishop DeGrey                            300
  Clifford's Tower, York                                             301
  The Shambles, York                                                 302
  Castle Howard, South Front                                         303
  Castle Howard, the Obelisk                                         304
  Castle Howard, the Temple, with the Mausoleum in the distance      305
  Gateway, Kirkham Priory                                            306
  Scarborough Spa and Esplanade                                      308
  Scarborough, from the Sea                                          309
  Whitby Abbey                                                       311
  Durham, General View of the Cathedral and Castle                   312
  Durham Castle, Norman Doorway                                      313
  Durham Cathedral, from an old Homestead on the Wear                315
  Durham Cathedral, the Nave                                         316
  Durham Cathedral, the Choir, looking West                          317
  Durham Cathedral, the Galilee and Tomb of Bede                     318
  Lumley Castle                                                      320
  Lumley Castle, Gateway from the Walk                               321
  Hexham                                                             322
  Alnwick Castle, from the Lion bridge                               323
  Alnwick Castle, the Barbican Gate                                  323
  Alnwick Castle, the Barbican                                       324
  Alnwick Castle, the Barbican, Eastern Angle                        325
  Alnwick Castle, the Percy Bedstead                                 326
  Alnwick Castle, the Percy Cross                                    326
  Alnwick Castle, Constable's Tower                                  327
  Alnwick Castle, Earl Hugh's Tower                                  328
  Alnwick Castle, Draw-Well and Norman Gateway                       329
  Alnwick Castle, Gravestone in the Churchyard of St.
  Michael's and All Angels                                           329
  Alnwick Castle, Font Lectern, St. Michael's Church                 330
  Hulne Priory, Porter's Lodge                                       331
  Ford Tower, overlooking Flodden                                    331
  The Cheviots, from Ford Castle                                     332
  Flodden, from the King's Bedchamber, Ford Castle                   333
  Ford Castle, the Crypt                                             335
  Grace Darling's Monument, Bamborough                               336
  Gloucester Cathedral, from the South-east                          338
  Gloucester, the New Inn                                            340
  Gloucester Cathedral, the Monks' Lavatory                          342
  Tewkesbury                                                         343
  Tewkesbury Abbey                                                   344
  Tewkesbury Abbey, Choir                                            345
  Worcester Cathedral, from the Severn                               346
  Worcester Cathedral, Choir                                         348
  Ruins of the Guesten Hall, Worcester                               349
  Close in Worcester                                                 350
  St. Anne's Well, Malvern                                           352
  Butchers' Row, Hereford                                            353
  Out-house where Nell Gwynne was born, Hereford                     353
  Hereford Cathedral                                                 354
  Hereford Cathedral, Old Nave                                       355
  Ross Bridge                                                        355
  Ross, House of the "Man of Ross"                                   356
  Ross Market-place                                                  357
  Ross Church                                                        358
  Ross Church, the Tree, in                                          358
  Ruins of Goodrich Castle                                           359
  Bend in the Wye                                                    360
  Symond's Yat, the Wye                                              361
  Monmouth Bridge                                                    363
  Monmouth Bridge, Gate on                                           363
  Raglan Castle                                                      364
  Tintern Abbey, from the Highroad                                   365
  Chepstow Castle                                                    368
  Pontrilas Court                                                    370
  The Scyrrid Vawr                                                   371
  Llanthony Priory, looking down the Nave                            373
  Llanthony Priory, the South Transept                               374
  Swansea, North Dock                                                377
  Swansea Castle                                                     378
  The Mumbles                                                        379
  Oystermouth Castle                                                 380
  Neath Abbey, ruins                                                 381
  Bearwood, Berkshire, Residence of John Walter,
  Esq., proprietor of _London Times_                                 385
  Salisbury Cathedral                                                387
  Salisbury Market                                                   388
  Stonehenge                                                         390
  Wilton House                                                       392
  Wilton House, Fireplace in Double Cube Room                        393
  Wilton House, the Library                                          393
  Wilton House, the Library Window                                   394
  Bristol Cathedral                                                  398
  Norman Doorway, College Green, Bristol                             399
  Clifton Suspension Bridge, Bristol                                 400
  Wells Cathedral, from the Bishop's Garden                          401
  Wells Cathedral, from the Swan Pool                                402
  Wells Cathedral, View under Central Tower                          403
  Wells, Ruins of the Old Banquet-Hall                               404
  Entrance to the Cheddar Cliffs, Wells                              405
  High Rocks at Cheddar, Wells                                       406
  Glastonbury Tribunal                                               408
  Sedgemoor, from Cock Hill                                          409
  Weston Zoyland Church                                              410
  The Isle of Athelney                                               412
  Sherbourne                                                         413
  Corfe Castle                                                       416
  Studland Church                                                    418
  Ruins of Old Cross in the Churchyard                               418
  St. Aldhelm's Head                                                 419
  Portland Isle                                                      420
  Corbière Lighthouse, Jersey                                        422
  View from Devil's Hole, Jersey                                     423
  Exeter Cathedral, West Front                                       425
  Exeter, Ruins of Rougemont Castle                                  426
  Exeter, Old Houses in Cathedral Close                              426
  Exeter Cathedral, from the North-west                              427
  Exeter Cathedral, Bishop's Throne                                  428
  Exeter Cathedral, Minstrel Gallery                                 429
  Exeter, Guildhall                                                  429
  Babbicombe Bay                                                     430
  Austis Cove                                                        431
  Totnes, from the river                                             432
  Berry Pomeroy Castle                                               433
  A Bend of the Dart                                                 434
  Dartmouth Castle                                                   434
  The Dewerstone                                                     435
  Vale of Bickleigh                                                  436
  Plympton Priory, Old Doorway                                       437
  Minehead                                                           440
  Dunster                                                            441
  On Porlock Moor                                                    442
  Doone Valley                                                       443
  Bagworthy Water                                                    444
  Jan Ridd's Tree                                                    444
  View on the East Lyn                                               445
  Castle Rock, Lynton                                                445
  Devil's Cheese-Ring, Lynton                                        446
  Tower on Beach, Lynmouth                                           447
  Ilfracombe                                                         447
  Morte Point                                                        449
  Bideford Bridge                                                    450
  Clovelly, Main Street                                              450
  Clovelly, Old Houses on Beach                                      451
  Fowey Pier                                                         452
  Pendennis Castle                                                   454
  Mullyon Cove                                                       455
  Lion Rock, with Mullyon in the distance                            456
  Cave at Mullyon                                                    456
  Pradenack Point                                                    457
  Kynance Cove                                                       457
  The Post-Office, Kynance                                           458
  Polpeor                                                            459
  Rocks near the Lizard                                              459
  St. Michael's Mount                                                460
  Old Market, Penzance                                               461
  Land's End                                                         462
  High Street, Guildford                                             464
  Ruins of St. Catharine's Chapel                                    466
  Leith Hill                                                         467
  Old Dovecote, Holmwood Park                                        468
  White Horse Inn, Dorking                                           469
  Pierrepoint House                                                  472
  Longfield, East Sheen                                              473
  Ruins of Sissinghurst                                              475
  Tunbridge Castle                                                   476
  Penshurst Place                                                    476
  Penshurst Church                                                   477
  Hever Castle                                                       478
  Leeds Castle, Gateway                                              478
  Rochester Castle                                                   480
  Canterbury                                                         481
  Canterbury, Falstaff Inn                                           483
  Sandwich, the Barbican                                             485
  Dover Castle, the Pharos                                           487
  Dover Cattle, Saluting-Battery Gate                                487
  Rye, Old Houses                                                    488
  Hurstmonceux Castle                                                490
  Arundel Castle                                                     494
  Ruins of Cowdray                                                   494
  Selborne, Gilbert White's House                                    495
  Selborne, Gilbert White's Sun-Dial                                 496
  Selborne Church                                                    496
  Selborne, Rocky Lane to Alton                                      497
  Selborne, Wishing-Stone                                            498
  Greatham Church                                                    499
  Winchester, Cardinal Beaufort's Gate and Brewery                   500
  New Forest, from Bramble Hill                                      502
  New Forest, Rufus's Stone                                          503
  New Forest, Brockenhurst Church                                    505
  Christchurch, the Priory from the Quay and Place Mills             506
  Christchurch                                                       507
  Christchurch, Old Norman House and View from Priory                508
  Portsmouth Point                                                   510
  Portsmouth, H.M.S. "Victory"                                       511
  Cowes Harbor, Isle of Wight                                        512
  The Needles, from Alum Bay, Isle of Wight                          513
  Yarmouth, Isle of Wight                                            513
  Osborne House, from the Sea, Isle of Wight                         514
  Shanklin Chine, Isle of Wight                                      516
  The Undercliff, Isle of Wight                                      517
  Carisbrooke Castle, looking from Isle of Wight                     519
  Tennyson's House, Isle of Wight                                    521
  The Needles, Isle of Wight                                         522





     Liverpool--Birkenhead--Knowsley Hall--Chester--Cheshire--Eaton
     Hall--Hawarden Castle--Bidston--Congleton--Beeston Castle--The
     river Dee--Llangollen--Valle-Crucis Abbey--Dinas
     Bran--Wynnstay--Pont Cysylltau--Chirk
     Castle--Bangor-ys-Coed--Holt--Wrexham--The Sands o' Dee--North
     Wales--Flint Castle--Rhuddlan Castle--Mold--Denbigh--St.
     Asaph--Holywell--Powys Castle--The Menai
     Strait--Anglesea--Beaumaris Castle--Bangor--Penrhyn Castle--Plas
     Newydd--Caernarvon Castle--Ancient Segontium--Conway
     Castle--Bettws-y-Coed--Mount Snowdon--Port Madoc--Coast of
     Merioneth--Barmouth--St. Patrick's Causeway--Mawddach Vale--Cader
     Idris--Dolgelly--Bala Lake--Aberystwith--Harlech Castle--Holyhead.


[Illustration: THE PERCH ROCK LIGHT.]

The American transatlantic tourist, after a week or more spent upon the
ocean, is usually glad to again see the land. After skirting the bold
Irish coast, and peeping into the pretty cove of Cork, with Queenstown
in the background, and passing the rocky headlands of Wales, the steamer
that brings him from America carefully enters the Mersey River. The
shores are low but picturesque as the tourist moves along the estuary
between the coasts of Lancashire and Cheshire, and passes the great
beacon standing up solitary and alone amid the waste of waters, the
Perch Rock Light off New Brighton on the Cheshire side. Thus he comes to
the world's greatest seaport--Liverpool--and the steamer finally drops
her anchor between the miles of docks that front the two cities,
Liverpool on the left and Birkenhead on the right. Forests of masts loom
up behind the great dock-walls, stretching far away on either bank,
while a fleet of arriving or departing steamers is anchored in a long
line in mid-channel. Odd-looking, low, black tugs, pouring out thick
smoke from double funnels, move over the water, and one of them takes
the passengers alongside the capacious structure a half mile long, built
on pontoons, so it can rise and fall with the tides, and known as the
Prince's Landing-Stage, where the customs officers perform their brief
formalities and quickly let the visitor go ashore over the fine floating
bridge into the city.

At Liverpool most American travellers begin their view of England. It is
the great city of ships and sailors and all that appertains to the sea,
and its 550,000 population are mainly employed in mercantile life and
the myriad trades that serve the ship or deal in its cargo, for fifteen
thousand to twenty thousand of the largest vessels of modern commerce
will enter the Liverpool docks in a year, and its merchants own
7,000,000 tonnage. Fronting these docks on the Liverpool side of the
Mersey is the great sea-wall, over five miles long, behind which are
enclosed 400 acres of water-surface in the various docks, that are
bordered by sixteen miles' length of quays. On the Birkenhead side of
the river there are ten miles of quays in the docks that extend for over
two miles along the bank. These docks, which are made necessary to
accommodate the enormous commerce, have cost over $50,000,000, and are
the crowning glory of Liverpool. They are filled with the ships of all
nations, and huge storehouses line the quays, containing products from
all parts of the globe, yet chiefly the grain and cotton, provisions,
tobacco, and lumber of America. Railways run along the inner border of
the docks on a street between them and the town, and along their tracks
horses draw the freight-cars, while double-decked passenger-cars also
run upon them with broad wheels fitting the rails, yet capable of being
run off whenever the driver wishes to get ahead of the slowly-moving
freight-cars. Ordinary wagons move upon Strand street alongside, with
horses of the largest size drawing them, the huge growth of the
Liverpool horses being commensurate with the immense trucks and vans to
which these magnificent animals are harnessed.

Liverpool is of great antiquity, but in the time of William the
Conqueror was only a fishing-village. Liverpool Castle, long since
demolished, was a fortress eight hundred years ago, and afterward the
rival families of Molineux and Stanley contended for the mastery of the
place. It was a town of slow growth, however, and did not attain full
civic dignity till the time of Charles I. It was within two hundred
years that it became a seaport of any note. The first dock was opened in
1699, and strangely enough it was the African slave-trade that gave the
Liverpool merchants their original start. The port sent out its first
slave-ship in 1709, and in 1753 had eighty-eight ships engaged in the
slave-trade, which carried over twenty-five thousand slaves from Africa
to the New World that year. Slave-auctions were frequent in Liverpool,
and one of the streets where these sales were effected was nicknamed
"Negro street." The agitation for the abolition of the trade was carried
on a long time before Liverpool submitted, and then privateering came
prominently out as the lucrative business a hundred years ago during the
French wars, that brought Liverpool great wealth. Next followed the
development of trade with the East Indies, and finally the trade with
America has grown to such enormous proportions in the present century as
to eclipse all other special branches of Liverpool commerce, large as
some of them are. This has made many princely fortunes for the merchants
and shipowners, and their wealth has been liberally expended in
beautifying their city. It has in recent years had very rapid growth,
and has greatly increased its architectural adornments. Most amazing has
been this advancement since the time in the last century when the mayor
and corporation entertained Prince William of Gloucester at dinner, and,
pleased at the appetite he developed, one of them called out, "Eat away,
Your Royal Highness; there's plenty more in the kitchen!" The mayor was
Jonas Bold, and afterwards, taking the prince to church, they were
astonished to find that the preacher had taken for his text the words,
"Behold, a greater than Jonas is here."

[Illustration: ST. GEORGE'S HALL.]

Liverpool has several fine buildings. Its Custom House is a large Ionic
structure of chaste design, with a tall dome that can be seen from afar,
and richly decorated within. The Town Hall and the Exchange buildings
make up the four sides of an enclosed quadrangle paved with broad
flagstones. Here, around the attractive Nelson monument in the centre,
the merchants meet and transact their business. The chief public
building is St. George's Hall, an imposing edifice, surrounded with
columns and raised high above one side of an open square, and costing
$2,000,000 to build. It is a Corinthian building, having at one end the
Great Hall, one hundred and sixty-nine feet long, where public meetings
are held, and court-rooms at the other end. Statues of Robert Peel,
Gladstone, and Stephenson, with other great men, adorn the Hall. Sir
William Brown, who amassed a princely fortune in Liverpool, has
presented the city with a splendid free library and museum, which stands
in a magnificent position on Shaw's Brow. Many of the streets are lined
with stately edifices, public and private, and most of these avenues
diverge from the square fronting St. George's Hall, opposite which is
the fine station of the London and North-western Railway, which, as is
the railroad custom in England, is also a large hotel. The suburbs of
Liverpool are filled for a wide circuit with elegant rural homes and
surrounding ornamental grounds, where the opulent merchants live. They
are generally bordered with high stone walls, interfering with the view,
and impressing the visitor strongly with the idea that an Englishman's
house is his castle. Several pretty parks with ornamental lakes among
their hills are also in the suburbs. Yet it is the vast trade that is
the glory of Liverpool, for it is but an epitome of England's commercial
greatness, and is of comparatively modern growth. "All this," not long
ago said Lord Erskine, speaking of the rapid advancement of Liverpool,
"has been created by the industry and well-disciplined management of a
handful of men since I was a boy."


A few miles out of Liverpool is the village of Prescot, where Kemble the
tragedian was born, and where the people at the present time are largely
engaged in watchmaking. Not far from Prescot is one of the famous homes
of England--Knowsley Hall, the seat of the Stanleys and of the Earls of
Derby for five hundred years. The park covers two thousand acres and is
almost ten miles in circumference. The greater portion of the famous
house was built in the time of George II. It is an extensive and
magnificent structure, and contains many art-treasures in its
picture-gallery by Rembrandt, Rubens, Correggio, Teniers, Vandyke,
Salvator Rosa, and others. The Stanleys are one of the governing
families of England, the last Earl of Derby having been premier in 1866,
and the present earl having also been a cabinet minister. The crest of
the Stanleys represents the Eagle and the Child, and is derived from the
story of a remote ancestor who, cherishing an ardent desire for a male
heir, and having only a daughter, contrived to have an infant conveyed
to the foot of a tree in the park frequented by an eagle. Here he and
his lady, taking a walk, found the child as if by accident, and the
lady, considering it a gift from Heaven brought by the eagle and
miraculously preserved, adopted the boy as her heir. From this time the
crest was assumed, but we are told that the old knight's conscience
smote him at the trick, and on his deathbed he bequeathed the chief part
of his fortune to the daughter, from whom are descended the present



Not far from Liverpool, and in the heart of Cheshire, we come to the
small but famous river Dee and the old and very interesting city of
Chester. It is built in the form of a quadrant, its four walls enclosing
a plot about a half mile square. The walls, which form a promenade two
miles around, over which every visitor should tramp; the quaint gates
and towers; the "Rows," or arcades along the streets, which enable the
sidewalks to pass under the upper stories of the houses by cutting away
the first-floor front rooms; and the many ancient buildings,--are all
attractive. The Chester Cathedral is a venerable building of red
sandstone, which comes down to us from the twelfth century, though it
has recently been restored. It is constructed in the Perpendicular style
of architecture, with a square and turret-surmounted central tower. This
is the Cathedral of St. Werburgh, and besides other merits of the
attractive interior, the southern transept is most striking from its
exceeding length. The choir is richly ornamented with carvings and fine
woodwork, the Bishop's Throne having originally been a pedestal for the
shrine of St. Werburgh. The cathedral contains several ancient tombs of
much interest, and the elaborate Chapter Room, with its Early English
windows and pillars, is much admired. In this gorgeous structure the
word of God is preached from a Bible whose magnificently-bound cover is
inlaid with precious stones and its markers adorned with pearls. The
book is the Duke of Westminster's gift, that nobleman being the landlord
of much of Chester. In the nave of the cathedral are two English
battle-flags that were at Bunker Hill. Chester Castle, now used as a
barrack for troops, has only one part of the ancient edifice left,
called Julius Cæsar's Tower, near which the Dee is spanned by a fine
single-arch bridge.

[Illustration: JULIUS CÆSAR'S TOWER.]

[Illustration: ANCIENT FRONT.]


[Illustration: BISHOP LLOYD'S PALACE.]

[Illustration: OLD LAMB ROW.]

The quaintest part of this curious old city of Chester is no doubt the
"Rows," above referred to. These arcades, which certainly form a capital
shelter from the hot sun or rain, were, according to one authority,
originally built as a refuge for the people in case of sudden attack by
the Welsh; but according to others they originated with the Romans, and
were used as the vestibules of the houses; and this seems to be the more
popular theory with the townsfolk. Under the "Rows" are shops of all
sizes, and some of the buildings are grotesquely attractive, especially
the curious one bearing the motto of safety from the plague, "God's
providence is mine inheritance," standing on Watergate street, and known
as "God's Providence House;" and "Bishop Lloyd's Palace," which is
ornamented with quaint wood-carvings. The "Old Lamb Row," where Randall
Holme, the Chester antiquary, lived, stood by itself, obeying no rule
of regularity, and was regarded as a nuisance two hundred years ago,
though later it was highly prized. The city corporation in 1670 ordered
that "the nuisance erected by Randall Holme in his new building in
Bridge street be taken down, as it annoys his neighbors, and hinders
their prospect from their houses." But this law seems to have been
enforced no more than many others are on either side of the ocean, for
the "nuisance" stood till 1821, when the greater part of it, the timbers
having rotted, fell of its own accord. The "Dark Row" is the only one of
these strange arcades that is closed from the light, for it forms a kind
of tunnel through which the footwalk goes. Not far from this is the
famous old "Stanley House," where one unfortunate Earl of Derby spent
the last day before his execution in 1657 at Bolton. The carvings on the
front of this house are very fine, and there is told in reference to the
mournful event that marks its history the following story: Lieutenant
Smith came from the governor of Chester to notify the condemned earl to
be ready for the journey to Bolton. The earl asked, "When would you have
me go?" "To-morrow, about six in the morning," said Smith. "Well,"
replied the earl, "commend me to the governor, and tell him I shall be
ready by that time." Then said Smith, "Doth your lordship know any
friend or servant that would do the thing your lordship knows of? It
would do well if you had a friend." The earl replied, "What do you mean?
to cut off my head?" Smith said, "Yes, my lord, if you could have a
friend." The earl answered, "Nay, sir, if those men that would have my
head will not find one to cut it off, let it stand where it is."


[Illustration: THE STANLEY HOUSE, REAR.]

It is easy in this strange old city to carry back the imagination for
centuries, for it preserves its connection with the past better perhaps
than any other English town. The city holds the keys of the outlet of
the Dee, which winds around it on two sides, and is practically one of
the gates into Wales. Naturally, the Romans established a fortress here
more than a thousand years ago, and made it the head-quarters of their
twentieth legion, who impressed upon the town the formation of a Roman
camp, which it bears to this day. The very name of Chester is derived
from the Latin word for a camp. Many Roman fragments still remain, the
most notable being the Hyptocaust. This was found in Watergate street
about a century ago, together with a tessellated pavement. There have
also been exhumed Roman altars, tombs, mosaics, pottery and other
similar relics. The city is built upon a sandstone rock, and this
furnishes much of the building material, so that most of the edifices
have their exteriors disintegrated by the elements, particularly the
churches--a peculiarity that may have probably partly justified Dean
Swift's epigram, written when his bile was stirred because a rainstorm
had prevented some of the Chester clergy from dining with him:

  "Churches and clergy of this city
    Are very much akin:
  They're weather-beaten all without,
    And empty all within."

[Illustration: THE PHOENIX TOWER.]

[Illustration: THE WATER TOWER.]

The modernized suburbs of Chester, filled with busy factories, are
extending beyond the walls over a larger surface than the ancient town
itself. At the angles of the old walls stand the famous towers--the
Phoenix Tower, Bonwaldesthorne's Tower, Morgan's Mount, the Goblin
Tower, and the Water Tower, while the gates in the walls are almost
equally famous--the Eastgate, Northgate, Watergate, Bridgegate, Newgate,
and Peppergate. The ancient Abbey of St. Mary had its site near the
castle, and not far away are the picturesque ruins of St. John's Chapel,
outside the walls. According to a local legend, its neighborhood had the
honor of sheltering an illustrious fugitive. Harold, the Saxon king, we
are told, did not fall at Hastings, but, escaping, spent the remainder
of his life as a hermit, dwelling in a cell near this chapel and on a
cliff alongside the Dee. The four streets leading from the gates at the
middle of each side of the town come together in the centre at a place
formerly known as the "Pentise," where was located the bull-ring at
which was anciently carried on the refining sport of "bull-baiting"
while the mayor and corporation, clad in their gowns of office, looked
on approvingly. Prior to this sport beginning, we are told that solemn
proclamation was made for "the safety of the king and the mayor of
Chester"--that "if any man stands within twenty yards of the bull-ring,
let him take what comes." Here stood also the stocks and pillory. Amid
so much that is ancient and quaint, the new Town Hall, a beautiful
structure recently erected, is naturally most attractive, its dedication
to civic uses having been made by the present Prince of Wales, who bears
among many titles that of Earl of Chester. But this is about the only
modern attraction this interesting city possesses. At an angle of the
walls are the "Dee Mills," as old as the Norman Conquest, and famous in
song as the place where the "jolly miller once lived on the Dee." Full
of attractions within and without, it is difficult to tear one's self
away from this quaint city, and therefore we will agree, at least in one
sense, with Dr. Johnson's blunt remark to a lady friend: "I have come to
Chester, madam, I cannot tell how, and far less can I tell how to get
away from it."

[Illustration: ABBEY GATE.]

[Illustration: RUINS OF ST. JOHN'S CHAPEL.]


The county of Cheshire has other attractions. But a short distance from
Chester, in the valley of the Dee, is Eaton Hall, the elaborate palace
of the Duke of Westminster and one of the finest seats in England,
situated in a park of eight hundred acres that extends to the walls of
Chester. This palace has recently been almost entirely rebuilt and
modernized, and is now the most spacious and splendid example of Revived
Gothic architecture in England. The house contains many works of
art--statues by Gibson, paintings by Rubens and others--and is full of
the most costly and beautiful decorations and furniture, being
essentially one of the show-houses of Britain. In the extensive gardens
are a Roman altar found in Chester and a Greek altar brought from
Delphi. At Hawarden Castle, seven miles from Chester, is the home of
William E. Gladstone, and in its picturesque park are the ruins of the
ancient castle, dating from the time of the Tudors, and from the keep of
which there is a fine view of the Valley of the Dee. The ruins of Ewloe
Castle, six hundred years old, are not far away, but so buried in
foliage that they are difficult to find. Two miles from Chester is Hoole
House, formerly Lady Broughton's, famous for its rockwork, a lawn of
less than an acre exquisitely planted with clipped yews and other trees
being surrounded by a rockery over forty feet high. In the Wirral or
Western Cheshire are several attractive villages. At Bidston, west of
Birkenhead and on the sea-coast, is the ancient house that was once the
home of the unfortunate Earl of Derby, whose execution is mentioned
above. Congleton, in Eastern Cheshire, stands on the Dane, in a lovely
country, and is a good example of an old English country-town. Its Lion
Inn is a fine specimen of the ancient black-and-white gabled hostelrie
which novelists love so well to describe. At Nantwich is a curious old
house with a heavy octagonal bow-window in the upper story overhanging a
smaller lower one, telescope-fashion. The noble tower of Nantwich church
rises above, and the building is in excellent preservation.

Nearly in the centre of Cheshire is the stately fortress of Beeston
Castle, standing on a sandstone rock rising some three hundred and sixty
feet from the flat country. It was built nearly seven hundred years ago
by an Earl of Cheshire, then just returned from the Crusades. Standing
in an irregular court covering about five acres, its thick walls and
deep ditch made it a place of much strength. It was ruined prior to the
time of Henry VIII., having been long contended for and finally
dismantled in the Wars of the Roses. Being then rebuilt, it became a
famous fortress in the Civil Wars, having been seized by the Roundheads,
then surprised and taken by the Royalists, alternately besieged and
defended afterward, and finally starved into surrender by the
Parliamentary troops in 1645. This was King Charles's final struggle,
though the castle did not succumb till after eighteen weeks' siege, and
its defenders were forced to eat cats and rats to satisfy hunger, and
were reduced to only sixty. Beeston Castle was then finally dismantled,
and its ruins are now an attraction to the tourist. Lea Hall, an ancient
and famous timbered mansion, surrounded by a moat, was situated about
six miles from Chester, but the moat alone remains to show where it
stood. Here lived Sir Hugh Calveley, one of Froissart's heroes, who was
governor of Calais when it was held by the English, and is buried under
a sumptuous tomb in the church of the neighboring college of Bunbury,
which he founded. His armed effigy surmounts the tomb, and the
inscription says he died on St. George's Day, 1394.



Frequent reference has been made to the river Dee, the Deva of the
Welsh, which is unquestionably one of the finest streams of Britain. It
rises in the Arran Fowddwy, one of the chief Welsh mountains, nearly
three thousand feet high, and after a winding course of about seventy
miles falls into the Irish Sea. This renowned stream has been the theme
of many a poet, and after expanding near its source into the beautiful
Bala Lake, whose bewitching surroundings are nearly all described in
polysyllabic and unpronounceable Welsh names, and are popular among
artists and anglers, it flows through Edeirnim Vale, past Corwen. Here a
pathway ascends to the eminence known as Glendower's Seat, with which
tradition has closely knit the name of the Welsh hero, the close of
whose marvellous career marked the termination of Welsh independence.
Then the romantic Dee enters the far-famed Valley of Llangollen, where
tourists love to roam, and where lived the "Ladies of Llangollen." We
are told that these two high-born dames had many lovers, but, rejecting
all and enamored only of each other, Lady Butler and Miss Ponsonby, the
latter sixteen years the junior of the former, determined on a life of
celibacy. They eloped together from Ireland, were overtaken and brought
back, and then a second time decamped--on this occasion in masquerade,
the elder dressed as a peasant and the younger as a smart groom in
top-boots. Escaping pursuit, they settled in Llangollen in 1778 at the
quaint little house called Plas Newydd, and lived there together for a
half century. Their costume was extraordinary, for they appeared in
public in blue riding-habits, men's neckcloths, and high hats, with
their hair cropped short. They had antiquarian tastes, which led to the
accumulation of a vast lot of old wood-carvings and stained glass,
gathered from all parts of the world and worked into the fittings and
adornment of their home. They were on excellent terms with all the
neighbors, and the elder died in 1829, aged ninety, and the younger two
years afterward, aged seventy-six. Their remains lie in Llangollen


Within this famous valley are the ruins of Valle-Crucis Abbey, the most
picturesque abbey ruin in North Wales. An adjacent stone cross gave it
the name six hundred years ago, when it was built by the great Madoc for
the Cistercian monks. The ruins in some parts are now availed of for
farm-houses. Fine ash trees bend over the ruined arches, ivy climbs the
clustered columns, and the lancet windows with their delicate tracery
are much admired. The remains consist of the church, abbot's lodgings,
refectory, and dormitory. The church was cruciform, and is now nearly
roofless, though the east and west ends and the southern transept are
tolerably perfect, so that much of the abbey remains. It was occupied by
the Cistercians, and was dedicated to the Virgin Mary. The ancient
cross, of which the remains are still standing near by, is Eliseg's
Pillar, erected in the seventh century as a memorial of that Welsh
prince. It was one of the earliest lettered stones in Britain, standing
originally about twelve feet high. From this cross came the name of
Valle Crucis, which in the thirteenth century was given to the famous
abbey. The great Madoc, who lived in the neighboring castle of Dinas
Bran, built this abbey to atone for a life of violence. The ruins of his
castle stand on a hill elevated about one thousand feet above the Dee.
Bran in Welsh means _crow_, so that the English know it as Crow Castle.
From its ruins there is a beautiful view over the Valley of Llangollen.
Farther down the valley is the mansion of Wynnstay, in the midst of a
large and richly wooded park, a circle of eight miles enclosing the
superb domain, within which are herds of fallow-deer and many noble
trees. The old mansion was burnt in 1858, and an imposing structure in
Renaissance now occupies the site. Fine paintings adorn the walls by
renowned artists, and the Dee foams over its rocky bed in a sequestered
dell near the mansion. Memorial columns and tablets in the park mark
notable men and events in the Wynn family, the chief being the Waterloo
Tower, ninety feet high. Far away down the valley a noble aqueduct by
Telford carries the Ellesmere Canal over the Dee--the Pont
Cysylltau--supported on eighteen piers of masonry at an elevation of one
hundred and twenty-one feet, while a mile below is the still more
imposing viaduct carrying the Great Western Railway across.

[Illustration: WYNNSTAY.]

[Illustration: PONT CYSYLLTAU.]

[Illustration: WREXHAM TOWER.]

Not far distant is Chirk Castle, now the home of Mr. R. Myddelton
Biddulph, a combination of a feudal fortress and a modern mansion. The
ancient portion, still preserved, was built by Roger Mortimer, to whom
Edward I. granted the lordship of Chirk. It was a bone of contention
during the Civil Wars, and when they were over, $150,000 were spent in
repairing the great quadrangular fortress. It stands in a noble
situation, and on a clear day portions of seventeen counties can be seen
from the summit. Still following down the picturesque river, we come to
Bangor-ys-Coed, or "Bangor-in-the-Wood," in Flintshire, once the seat of
a famous monastery that disappeared twelve hundred years ago. Here a
pretty bridge crosses the river, and a modern church is the most
prominent structure in the village. The old monastery is said to have
been the home of twenty-four hundred monks, one half of whom were slain
in a battle near Chester by the heathen king Ethelfrith, who afterwards
sacked the monastery, but the Welsh soon gathered their forces again and
took terrible vengeance. Many ancient coffins and Roman remains have
been found here. The Dee now runs with swift current past Overton to the
ancient town of Holt, whose charter is nearly five hundred years old,
but whose importance is now much less than of yore. Holt belongs to the
debatable Powisland, the strip of territory over which the English and
Welsh fought for centuries. Holt was formerly known as Lyons, and was a
Roman outpost of Chester. Edward I. granted it to Earl Warren, who
built Holt Castle, of which only a few quaint pictures now exist, though
it was a renowned stronghold in its day. It was a five-sided structure
with a tower on each corner, enclosing an ample courtyard. After
standing several sieges in the Civil Wars of Cromwell's time, the
battered castle was dismantled.


The famous Wrexham Church, whose tower is regarded as one of the "seven
wonders of Wales," is three miles from Holt, and is four hundred years
old. Few churches built as early as the reign of Henry VIII. can compare
with this. It is dedicated to St. Giles, and statues of him and of
twenty-nine other saints embellish niches in the tower. Alongside of St.
Giles is the hind that nourished him in the desert. The bells of Wrexham
peal melodiously over the valley, and in the vicarage the good Bishop
Heber wrote the favorite hymn, "From Greenland's Icy Mountains." Then
the Dee flows on past the ducal palace of Eaton Hall, and encircles
Chester, which has its race-course, "The Roodee"--where they hold an
annual contest in May for the "Chester Cup"--enclosed by a beautiful
semicircle of the river. Then the Dee flows on through a straight
channel for six miles to its estuary, which broadens among treacherous
sands and flats between Flintshire and Cheshire, till it falls into the
Irish Sea. Many are the tales of woe that are told of the "Sands o'
Dee," along which the railway from Chester to Holyhead skirts the edge
in Flintshire. Many a poor girl, sent for the cattle wandering on these
sands, has been lost in the mist that rises from the sea, and drowned by
the quickly rushing waters. Kingsley has plaintively told the story in
his mournful poem:

  "They rowed her in across the rolling foam--
        The cruel, crawling foam,
        The cruel, hungry foam--
     To her grave beside the sea;
  But still the boatmen hear her call her cattle home
     Across the Sands o' Dee."

[Illustration: THE "SANDS O' DEE."]


Let us now journey westward from the Dee into Wales, coming first into
Flintshire. The town of Flint, it is conjectured, was originally a Roman
camp, from the design and the antiquities found there. Edward I., six
hundred years ago, built Flint Castle upon an isolated rock in a marsh
near the river, and after a checquered history it was dismantled in the
seventeenth century. From the railway between Chester and Holyhead the
ruins of this castle are visible on its low freestone rock; it is a
square, with round towers at three of the corners, and a massive keep at
the other, formed like a double tower and detached from the main castle.
This was the "dolorous castle" into which Richard II. was inveigled at
the beginning of his imprisonment, which ended with abdication, and
finally his death at Pomfret. The story is told that Richard had a fine
greyhound at Flint Castle that often caressed him, but when the Duke of
Lancaster came there the greyhound suddenly left Richard and caressed
the duke, who, not knowing the dog, asked Richard what it meant.
"Cousin," replied the king, "it means a great deal for you and very
little for me. I understand by it that this greyhound pays his court to
you as King of England, which you will surely be, and I shall be
deposed, for the natural instinct of the dog shows it to him; keep him,
therefore, by your side." Lancaster treasured this, and paid attention
to the dog, which would nevermore follow Richard, but kept by the side
of the Duke of Lancaster, "as was witnessed," says the chronicler
Froissart, "by thirty thousand men."

Rhuddlan Castle, also in Flintshire, is a red sandstone ruin of striking
appearance, standing on the Clwyd River. When it was founded no one
knows accurately, but it was rebuilt seven hundred years ago, and was
dismantled, like many other Welsh castles, in 1646. It was at Rhuddlan
that Edward I. promised the Welsh "a native prince who never spoke a
word of English, and whose life and conversation no man could impugn;"
and this promise he fulfilled to the letter by naming as the first
English Prince of Wales his infant son, then just born at Caernarvon
Castle. Six massive towers flank the walls of this famous castle, and
are in tolerably fair preservation. Not far to the southward is the
eminence known by the Welsh as "Yr-Wyddgrug," or "a lofty hill," and
which the English call Mold. On this hill was a castle of which little
remains now but tracings of the ditches, larches and other trees
peacefully growing on the site of the ancient stronghold. Off toward
Wrexham are the ruins of another castle, known as Caergwrle, or "the
camp of the giant legion." This was of Welsh origin, and commanded the
entrance to the Vale of Alen; the English called it Hope Castle.

Adjoining Flintshire is Denbigh, with the quiet watering-place of
Abergele out on the Irish Sea. About two miles away is St. Asaph, with
its famous cathedral, having portions dating from the thirteenth
century. The great castle of Denbigh, when in its full glory, had
fortifications one and a half miles in circumference. It stood on a
steep hill at the county-town, where scanty ruins now remain, consisting
chiefly of an immense gateway with remains of flanking towers. Above the
entrance is a statue of the Earl of Lincoln, its founder in the
thirteenth century. His only son was drowned in the castle-well, which
so affected the father that he did not finish the castle. Edward II.
gave Denbigh to Despenser; Leicester owned it in Elizabeth's time;
Charles II. dismantled it. The ruins impress the visitor with the
stupendous strength of the immense walls of this stronghold, while
extensive passages and dungeons have been explored beneath the surface
for long distances. In one chamber near the entrance-tower, which had
been walled up, a large amount of gunpowder was found. At Holywell, now
the second town in North Wales, is the shrine to which pilgrims have
been going for many centuries. At the foot of a steep hill, from an
aperture in the rock, there rushes forth a torrent of water at the rate
of eighty-four hogsheads a minute; whether the season be wet or be dry,
the sacred stream gushing forth from St. Winifrede's Well varies but
little, and around it grows the fragrant moss known as St. Winifrede's
Hair. The spring has valuable medicinal virtues, and an elegant dome
covering it supports a chapel. The little building is an exquisite
Gothic structure built by Henry VII. A second basin is provided, into
which bathers may descend. The pilgrims to this holy well have of late
years decreased in numbers; James II., who, we are told, "lost three
kingdoms for a mass," visited this well in 1686, and "received as a
reward the undergarment worn by his great-grandmother, Mary Queen of
Scots, on the day of her execution." This miraculous spring gets its
name from the pious virgin Winifrede. She having been seen by the Prince
of Wales, Caradoc, he was struck by her great beauty and attempted to
carry her off; she fled to the church, the prince pursuing, and,
overtaking her, he in rage drew his sword and struck off her head; the
severed head bounded through the church-door and rolled to the foot of
the altar. On the spot where it rested a spring of uncommon size burst
forth. The pious priest took up the head, and at his prayer it was
united to the body, and the virgin, restored to life, lived in sanctity
for fifteen years afterwards: miracles were wrought at her tomb; the
spring proved another Pool of Bethesda, and to this day we are told that
the votive crutches and chairs left by the cured remain hanging over St.
Winifrede's Well.

South of Denbigh, in Montgomeryshire, are the ruins of Montgomery
Castle, long a frontier fortress of Wales, around which many hot
contests have raged: a fragment of a tower and portions of the walls are
all that remain. Powys Castle is at Welsh Pool, and is still
preserved--a red sandstone structure on a rocky elevation in a spacious
and well-wooded park; Sir Robert Smirke has restored it.


Still journeying westward, we come to Caernarvonshire, and reach the
remarkable estuary dividing the mainland from the island of Anglesea,
and known as the Menai Strait. This narrow stream, with its
steeply-sloping banks and winding shores, looks more like a river than a
strait, and it everywhere discloses evidence of the residence of an
almost pre-historic people in relics of nations that inhabited its banks
before the invasion of the Romans. There are hill-forts, sepulchral
mounds, pillars of stone, rude pottery, weapons of stone and bronze; and
in that early day Mona itself, as Anglesea was called, was a sacred
island. Here were fierce struggles between Roman and Briton, and Tacitus
tells of the invasion of Mona by the Romans and the desperate conflicts
that ensued as early as A.D. 60. The history of the strait is a story of
almost unending war for centuries, and renowned castles bearing the
scars of these conflicts keep watch and ward to this day. Beaumaris,
Bangor, Caernarvon, and Conway castles still remain in partial ruin to
remind us of the Welsh wars of centuries ago. On the Anglesea shore, at
the northern entrance to the strait, is the picturesque ruin of
Beaumaris Castle, built by Edward I. at a point where vessels could
conveniently land. It stands on the lowlands, and a canal connects its
ditch with the sea. It consists of a hexagonal line of outer defences
surrounding an inner square. Round towers flanked the outer walls, and
the chapel within is quite well preserved. It has not had much place in
history, and the neighboring town is now a peaceful watering-place.

[Illustration: THE MENAI STRAIT.]

[Illustration: BEAUMARIS CASTLE.]

[Illustration: BANGOR CATHEDRAL.]

Across the strait is Bangor, a rather straggling town, with a cathedral
that is not very old. We are told that its bishop once sold its peal of
bells, and, going down to the shore to see them shipped away, was
stricken blind as a punishment for the sacrilege. Of Bangor Castle, as
it originally stood, but insignificant traces remain, but Lord Penrhyn
has recently erected in the neighborhood the imposing castle of Penryhn,
a massive pile of dark limestone, in which the endeavor is made to
combine a Norman feudal castle with a modern dwelling, though with only
indifferent success, excepting in the expenditure involved. The roads
from the great suspension-bridge across the strait lead on either hand
to Bangor and Beaumaris, although the route is rather circuitous. This
bridge, crossing at the narrowest and most beautiful part of the strait,
was long regarded as the greatest triumph of bridge-engineering. It
carried the Holyhead high-road across the strait, and was built by
Telford. The bridge is five hundred and seventy-nine feet long, and
stands one hundred feet above high-water mark; it cost $600,000. Above
the bridge the strait widens, and here, amid the swift-flowing currents,
the famous whitebait are caught for the London epicures. Three-quarters
of a mile below, at another narrow place, the railway crosses the strait
through Stephenson's Britannia tubular bridge, which is more useful than
ornamental, the railway passing through two long rectangular iron tubes,
supported on plain massive pillars. From a rock in the strait the
central tower rises to a height of two hundred and thirty feet, and
other towers are built on each shore at a distance of four hundred and
sixty feet from the central one. Couchant lions carved in stone guard
the bridge-portals at each end, and this famous viaduct cost over
$2,500,000. A short distance below the Anglesea Column towers above a
dark rock on the northern shore of the strait. It was erected in honor
of the first Marquis of Anglesea, the gallant commander of the British
light cavalry at Waterloo, where his leg was carried away by one of the
last French cannon-shots. For many years after the great victory he
lived here, literally with "one foot in the grave." Plas Newydd, one and
a half miles below, the Anglesea family residence, where the marquis
lived, is a large and unattractive mansion, beautifully situated on the
sloping shore. It has in the park two ancient sepulchral monuments of
great interest to the antiquarian.


[Illustration: CAERNARVON CASTLE.]

As the famous strait widens below the bridges the shores are tamer, and
we come to the famous Caernarvon Castle, the scene of many stirring
military events, as it held the key to the valleys of Snowdon, and
behind it towers that famous peak, the highest mountain in Britain,
whose summit rises to a height of 3590 feet. This great castle also
commanded the south-western entrance to the strait, and near it the
rapid little Sciont River flows into the sea. The ancient Britons had a
fort here, and afterwards it was a Roman fortified camp, which gradually
developed into the city of Segontium. The British name, from which the
present one comes, was Caer-yn-Arvon--"the castle opposite to Mona."
Segontium had the honor of being the birthplace of the Emperor
Constantine, and many Roman remains still exist there. It was in 1284,
however, that Edward I. began building the present castle, and it took
thirty-nine years to complete. The castle plan is an irregular oval,
with one side overlooking the strait. At the end nearest the sea, where
the works come to a blunt point, is the famous Eagle Tower, which has
eagles sculptured on the battlements. There are twelve towers
altogether, and these, with the light-and dark-hued stone in the walls,
give the castle a massive yet graceful aspect as it stands on the low
ground at the mouth of the Sciont. Externally, the castle is in good
preservation, but the inner buildings are partly destroyed, as is also
the Queen's Gate, where Queen Eleanor is said to have entered before the
first English Prince of Wales was born. A corridor, with loopholes
contrived in the thickness of the walls, runs entirely around the
castle, and from this archers could fight an approaching enemy. This
great fortress has been called the "boast of North Wales" from its size
and excellent position. It was last used for defence during the Civil
Wars, having been a military stronghold for nearly four centuries.
Although Charles II. issued a warrant for its demolition, this was to a
great extent disregarded. Prynne, the sturdy Puritan, was confined here
in Charles I.'s time, and the first English Prince of Wales, afterwards
the unfortunate Edward II., is said to have been born in a little dark
room, only twelve by eight feet, in the Eagle Tower: when seventeen
years of age the prince received the homage of the Welsh barons at
Chester. The town of Caernarvon, notwithstanding its famous history and
the possession of the greatest ruin in Wales, now derives its chief
satisfaction from the lucrative but prosaic occupation of trading in


At the northern extremity of Caernarvon county, and projecting into the
Irish Sea, is the promontory known as Great Orme's Head, and near it is
the mouth of the Conway River. The railway to Holyhead crosses this
river on a tubular bridge four hundred feet long, and runs almost under
the ruins of Conway Castle, another Welsh stronghold erected by Edward
I. We are told that this despotic king, when he had completed the
conquest of Wales, came to Conway, the shape of the town being something
like a Welsh harp, and he ordered all the native bards to be put to
death. Gray founded upon this his ode, "The Bard," beginning--

  "On a rock whose lofty brow
    Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,
  Robed in a sable garb of woe.
    With haggard eyes the poet stood."

This ode has so impressed the Conway folk that they have been at great
pains to discover the exact spot where the despairing bard plunged into
the river, and several enthusiastic persons have discovered the actual
site. The castle stands upon a high rock, and its builder soon after its
completion was besieged there by the Welsh, but before being starved
into submission was relieved by the timely arrival of a fleet with
provisions. It was in the hall of Conway Castle that Richard II. signed
his abdication. The castle was stormed and taken by Cromwell's troops in
the Civil Wars, and we are told that all the Irish found in the garrison
were tied in couples, back to back, and thrown into the river. The
castle was not dismantled, but the townsfolk in their industrious
quarrying of slates have undermined one of the towers, which, though
kept up by the solidity of the surrounding masonry, is known as the
"Broken Tower." There was none of the "bonus building" of modern times
attempted in these ponderous Welsh castles of the great King Edward. The
ruins are an oblong square, standing on the edge of a steep rock washed
on two sides by the river; the embattled walls, partly covered by ivy,
are twelve to fifteen feet thick, and are flanked by eight huge circular
towers, each forty feet in diameter; the interior is in partial ruin,
but shows traces of its former magnificence; the stately hall is one
hundred and thirty feet long. The same architect designed both
Caernarvon and Conway. A fine suspension-bridge now crosses the river
opposite the castle, its towers being built in harmony with the
architecture of the place, so that the structure looks much like a
drawbridge for the fortress. Although the Conway River was anciently a
celebrated pearl-fishery, slate-making, as at Caernarvon, is now the
chief industry of the town.

[Illustration: FALLS OF THE CONWAY.]

[Illustration: THE SWALLOW FALLS.]

There are many other historic places in Caernarvonshire, and also
splendid bits of rural and coast scenery, while the attractions for the
angler as well as the artist are almost limitless. One of the prettiest
places for sketching, as well as a spot where the fisherman's skill is
often rewarded, is Bettws-y-Coed. This pretty village, which derives its
name from a religious establishment--"Bede-house in the Wood"--that was
formerly there, but long ago disappeared, is a favorite resort for
explorations of the ravines leading down from Mount Snowdon, which
towers among the clouds to the southward. Not far away are the
attractive Falls of the Conway, and from a rock above them is a good
view of the wonderful ravine of Fors Noddyn, through which the river
flows. Around it there is a noble assemblage of hills and headlands.
Here, joining with the Conway, comes through another ravine the pretty
Machno in a succession of sparkling cascades and rapids. Not far away is
the wild and lovely valley of the Lledr, another tributary of the
Conway, which comes tumbling down a romantic fissure cut into the
frowning sides of the mountain. At Dolwyddelan a solitary tower is all
that remains of the castle, once commanding from its bold perch on the
rocks the narrow pass in the valley. It is at present a little village
of slate-quarriers. The Llugwy is yet another attractive tributary of
the Conway, which boasts in its course the Rhavadr-y-Wenol, or the
Swallow Fall. This, after a spell of rainy weather, is considered the
finest cataract in Wales for the breadth and volume of the water that
descends, though not for its height. This entire region is full of
charming scenery, and of possibly what some may love even better, good
trout-fishing. Following the Conway Valley still farther up, and
crossing over the border into Denbigh, we come to the little market-town
of Llanrwst. It contains two attractive churches, the older one
containing many curious monuments and some good carvings, the latter
having been brought from Maenant Abbey. But the chief curiosity of this
little Welsh settlement is the bridge crossing the Conway. It was
constructed by Inigo Jones, and is a three-arched stone bridge, which
has the strange peculiarity that by pushing a particular portion of the
parapet it can be made to vibrate from one end to the other. Gwydyr
House, the seat of Lord Willoughby de Eresby, is in the neighborhood, a
small part of the original mansion built in 1555 remaining. Near Trefriw
lived Taliesin, the father of Welsh poetry, and a monument erected by
that nobleman on the river-bank perpetuates his memory.

[Illustration: LLANRWST BRIDGE.]

The recollection among the Welsh of the life and exploits of the great
chieftain of former times, Madoc, is held very dear in Caernarvonshire,
and is preserved not only in many legends, but also in the thriving and
pleasant little seaport known as Port Madoc, which has grown up out of
the slate-trade. Its wharf is a wilderness of slates, and much of the
land in the neighborhood has been recovered from the sea. The geology as
well as the scenery here is an interesting study. In fact, the whole
Caernarvon coast, which stretches away to the south-west in the long
peninsula that forms Cardigan Bay, is full of pleasant and attractive
locations for student and tourist, and entwined around all are weird
legends of the heroes and doings of the mystical days of the dim past,
when Briton and Roman contended for the mastery of this historic region.


[Illustration: BARMOUTH.]

Let us make a brief excursion south of Mount Snowdon, along the coast of
the pastoral county of Merioneth, where Nature has put many crags and
stones and a little gold and wheat, but where the people's best reliance
is their flocks. At the place where the Mawddach joins the sea is
Barmouth, where a fishing-village has of late years bloomed into a
fashionable watering-place. The houses are built on a strip of sand and
the precipitous hillside beyond, and the cottages are perched wherever
they can conveniently hold on to the crags, the devious pathways and
flights of steps leading up to them presenting a quaint aspect. The
bends of the Mawddach, as it goes inland among the hills, present miles
of unique scenery, the great walls of Cader Idris closing the
background. Several hilltops in the neighborhood contain fortifications,
and are marked by the old tombs known as cromlechs and Druids' altars.
On the sea-coast curious reefs project, the chief of them being St.
Patrick's Causeway. The legend tells us that a Welsh chieftain fifteen
hundred years ago constructed these reefs to protect the lowlands from
the incursions of the sea, and on the lands thus reclaimed there stood
no less than twelve fortified Welsh cities. But, unfortunately, one
stormy night the guardian of the embankments got drunk, and, slumbering
at the critical moment, the waves rushed in, sweeping all before them.
In the morning, where had before been fortified cities and a vast
population, there was only a waste of waters. St. Patrick, we are told,
used his causeway to bear him dryshod as far as possible when he walked
the waters to Ireland.

[Illustration: BARMOUTH ESTUARY.]

Let us penetrate into the interior by going up the romantic valley of
the Mawddach and viewing the frowning sides of the chief Merioneth
mountain, Cader Idris, which towers on the right hand to the height of
3100 feet. It is a long ridge rather than a peak, and steep precipices
guard the upper portion. Two little lakes near the summit, enclosed by
cliffs, afford magnificent scenery. Here is "Idris's Chair," where the
grim magician, who used to make the mountain his home, sat to perform
his incantations, whilst in a hollow at the summit he had his couch.
According to Welsh tradition, whoever passed the night there would
emerge in the morning either mad or a poet. This mountain, like Snowdon,
is said to have been formerly a volcano, and legends tell of the fiery
outbursts that came from its craters, now occupied by the two little
lakes. But the truth of these legends, though interwoven into Welsh
poetry, is denied by prosaic geologists. A rough and steep track, known
as the "Fox's Path," leads to the summit, and there is a fine view
northward across the valleys to the distant summits of Snowdon and its
attendant peaks, while spread at our feet to the westward is the broad
expanse of Cardigan Bay. Lakes abound in the lowlands, and, pursuing the
road up the Mawddach we pass the "Pool of the Three Pebbles." Once upon
a time three stones got into the shoe of the giant Idris as he was
walking about his domain, and he stopped here and threw them out. Here
they still remain--three ponderous boulders--in the lake.


[Illustration: RHAYADR-Y-MAWDDACH.]

We leave the Mawddach and follow its tributary, the little river Wnion,
as it ripples along over its pebbly bed guarded by strips of meadow.
Soon we come to the lovely "Village of the Hazels," Dolgelly, standing
in the narrow valley, and probably the prettiest spot in Wales. Steep
hills rise on either hand, with bare craggy summits and the lower slopes
richly wooded. Deep dells running into the hills vary the scenery, and
thus the town is set in an amphitheatre of hills, up whose flanks the
houses seem to climb. There is a little old church, and in a back court
the ruins of the "Parliament House," where Owen Glendower assembled the
Welsh Parliament in 1404. The Torrent Walk, where the stream from the
mountain is spanned by picturesque bridges, is a favorite resort of the
artist, and also one of the most charming bits of scenery in the
neighborhood of this beautiful town. Pursuing the valley farther up and
crossing the watershed, we come to the largest inland water of Wales,
the beautiful Bala Lake, heretofore referred to in describing the river
Dee, which drains it. It is at an elevation of six hundred feet,
surrounded by mountain-peaks, and the possibility of making it available
as a water-supply for London has been considered.

[Illustration: DOLGELLY.]



[Illustration: BALA LAKE.]

There is an attractive place on the Merioneth coast to the southward of
Barmouth, at the mouth of the Rheidol, and near the estuary of the river
Dovey. A ruined tower on a low eminence guards the harbor, where now is
a fashionable watering-place, and is almost all that remains of the once
powerful Aberystwith Castle, another stronghold of King Edward I.
Portions of the entrance-gate and barbican can be traced, while the
modern houses of the town are spread to the northward along the
semicircular bay. The University College of Wales is located here, and
the town is popularly known as the "Welsh Brighton," while among its
antiquities in the suburbs is the ruined castellated mansion of Plas
Crug, said to have been Glendower's home. On the northern part of the
Merioneth coast is the entrance to the pleasant vale of Pfestiniog,
another attractive spot to tourists. Tan-y-bwlch and Maentwrog are
romantic villages adjoining each other in this pretty valley full of
waterfalls, among these being the renowned Black Cataract and the Raven

[Illustration: ABERYSTWITH.]

About twelve miles north of Barmouth the picturesque Harlech Castle
stands on a promontory guarding the entrance to the Traeth. The cliff is
precipitous, with just enough level surface on the top to accommodate
the castle. The place is a quadrangle, with massive round towers at the
corners connected by lofty curtain-walls. Circular towers, protected by
a barbican, guard the entrance on the land side. Deep ditches cut in the
rock surround the castle where that defence is necessary. From this
fortress on the Rock of Harlech the view is magnificent. This crag is
said to have supported a castle as early as the third century, when Lady
Bronwen built it, and, being of most sensitive honor, died afterwards of
grief because her husband had struck her. Unhappily, she was in advance
of her age in her demonstration of woman's rights. Another castle
replaced the first one in the sixth century, and some of its ruins were
worked into the present castle, which is another achievement of the
great Welsh fortress-builder, Edward I. It has stood several sieges.
Owen Glendower held it five years against the English. When Edward IV.
became king, Harlech still held out for the Lancastrian party, the
redoubtable Welshman, David ap Ifon, being the governor. Summoned to
surrender, the brave David replied, "I held a town in France till all
the old women in Wales heard of it, and now I will hold a castle in
Wales till all the old women in France hear of it." But David was
starved into surrender, and then Edward IV. tried to break the terms of
capitulation made by Sir Richard Pembroke, the besieger. Sir Richard,
more generous, told the king, "Then, by Heaven, I will let David and his
garrison into Harlech again, and Your Highness may fetch him out by any
who can, and if you demand my life for his, take it." The song of "The
March of the Men of Harlech" is a memorial of this siege. Harlech was
the last Welsh fortress during the Civil Wars that held out for Charles
I., and since then it has been gradually falling to decay.

[Illustration: HARLECH CASTLE.]

We have now conducted the tourist to the chief objects in North Wales.
The railway runs on to Holyhead, built on the extreme point of Holy
Island on the western verge of Anglesea, where there is a fine harbor of
refuge, lighthouses, and an excellent port. Here comes the "Wild
Irishman," as the fast train is called that runs between London and
Ireland, and its passengers are quickly transferred to the swift
steamers that cross the Channel to Dublin harbor. Lighthouses dot the
cliffs on the coast, and at this romantic outpost we will close the
survey of North Wales.

  "There ever-dimpling Ocean's cheek
  Reflects the tints of many a peak,
  Caught by the laughing tides that lave
  Those Edens of the Western wave."



     Lancashire--Warrington--Manchester--Furness Abbey--The
     Ribble--Stonyhurst--Lancaster Castle--Isle of
     Man--Castletown--Rushen Castle--Peele Castle--The Lake
     Country--Windermere--Lodore Fall--Derwentwater--Keswick--Greta
     Hall--Southey, Wordsworth and Coleridge--Skiddaw--The Border
     Castles--Kendal Castle--Brougham Hall--The Solway--Carlisle
     Castle--Scaleby Castle--Naworth--Lord William Howard.



The great manufacturing county of England for cotton and woollen
spinning and weaving is Lancashire. Liverpool is the seaport for the
vast aggregation of manufacturers who own the huge mills of Manchester,
Salford, Warrington, Wigan, Oldham, Rochdale, Bolton, Blackburn,
Preston, and a score of other towns, whose operatives work into yarns
and fabrics the millions of bales of cotton and wool that come into the
Mersey. The warehouse and factory, with the spinners' cottages and the
manufacturers' villas, make up these towns, almost all of modern growth,
and the busy machinery and smoking chimneys leave little chance for
romance in Southern Lancashire. It was in this section that trade first
compelled the use of modern improvements: here were used the earliest
steam-engines; here labored Arkwright to perfect the spinning machinery,
and Stephenson to build railways. To meet the necessities of
communication between Liverpool and Manchester, the first canal was dug
in England, and this was followed afterwards by the first experimental
railway; the canal was constructed by Brindley, and was called the
"Grand Trunk Canal," being twenty-eight miles long from Manchester to
the Mersey River, at Runcorn above Liverpool, and was opened in 1767.
The railway was opened in 1830; the odd little engine, the "Rocket,"
then drew an excursion-train over it, and the opening was marred by an
accident which killed Joseph Huskisson, one of the members of Parliament
for Liverpool. Let us follow this railway, which now carries an enormous
traffic out of Liverpool, eastward along the valley of the Mersey past
Warrington, with its quaint old timbered market-house, and then up its
tributary, the Irwell, thirty-one miles to Manchester.


The chief manufacturing city of England has not a striking effect upon
the visitor as he approaches it. It is scattered over a broad surface
upon a gently undulating plain, and its suburbs straggle out into the
country villages, which it is steadily absorbing in its rapid growth;
the Irwell passes in a winding course through the city, receiving a
couple of tributaries; this river divides Manchester from Salford, but a
dozen bridges unite them. No city in England has had such rapid growth
as Manchester in this century; it has increased from about seventy
thousand people at the beginning of the century to over half a million
now; and this is all the effect of the development of manufacturing
industry. Yet Manchester is one of the oldest towns in England, for
there was a Roman camp at Mancunium, as the Cæsars called it, in the
first century of the Christian era; and we are also told that in the
days when giants lived in England it was the scene of a terrific combat
between Sir Launcelot of the Lake and the giant Tarquin. A ballad tells
the story, but it is easier read in prose: Sir Launcelot was travelling
near Manchester when he heard that this giant held in durance vile a
number of knights--"threescore and four" in all; a damsel conducts him
to the giant's castle-gate, "near Manchester, fair town," where a copper
basin hung to do duty as a bell; he strikes it so hard as to break it,
when out comes the giant ready for the fray; a terrific combat ensues,
and the giant, finding that he has met his match, offers to release the
captives, provided his adversary is not a certain knight that slew his
brother. Unfortunately, it happens that Sir Launcelot is the very same,
and the combat is renewed with such vigor that the giant is slain, "to
the great contentment of many persons."

The ancient Mancunium was a little camp and city of about twelve acres,
partly bounded by a tributary of the Irwell known as the Medlock. A
ditch on the land-side was still visible in the last century, and
considerable portions of the old Roman walls also remained within two
hundred years. Many Roman relics have been discovered in the city, and
at Knott Mill, the site of the giant Tarquin's castle, a fragment of the
Roman wall is said to be still visible. The town in the early Tudor days
had a college, and then a cathedral, and it was besieged in the Civil
Wars, though it steadily grew, and in Charles II.'s time it was
described as a busy and opulent place; but it had barely six thousand
people. Cotton-spinning had then begun, the cotton coming from Cyprus
and Smyrna. In 1700 life in Manchester, as described in a local
guide-book, was noted by close application to business; the
manufacturers were in their warehouses by six in the morning,
breakfasted at seven on bowls of porridge and milk, into which masters
and apprentices dipped their spoons indiscriminately, and dined at
twelve; the ladies went out visiting at two in the afternoon, and
attended church at four. Manchester was conservative in the Jacobite
rebellion, and raised a regiment for the Pretender, but the royalist
forces defeated it, captured the officers, and beheaded them. Manchester
politics then were just the opposite of its present Liberal tendencies,
and it was Byrom, a Manchester man, who wrote the quaint epigram
regarding the Pretender and his friends which has been so often quoted:

  "God bless the King--I mean our faith's defender!
  God bless (no harm in blessing) the Pretender!
  But who Pretender is, or who is King--
  God bless us all!--that's quite another thing."


It was the rapid growth of manufacturing industry in Manchester that
changed its politics, and it was here that was first conspicuously
advocated the free-trade agitation in England which triumphed in the
repeal of the Corn Laws, so as to admit food free of duty for the
operatives, and in the Reform bill that changed the representation in
Parliament. That fine building, the "Free-Trade Hall," is a monument of
this agitation in which Manchester took such prominent part. As the
city has grown in wealth, so has its architectural appearance improved;
its school-and college-buildings are very fine, particularly Owens
College, munificently endowed by a leading merchant. The Manchester
Cathedral is an ancient building overlooking the Irwell which has had to
be renewed in so many parts that it has a comparatively modern aspect.
Other English cathedrals are more imposing, but this, "the ould paroch
church" spoken of by the ancient chroniclers, is highly prized by the
townsfolk; the architecture is Perpendicular and of many dates. Until
recently this was the only parish church in Manchester, and consequently
all the marriages for the city had to be celebrated there; the number
was at times very large, especially at Easter, and not a few tales are
told of how, in the confusion, the wrong pairs were joined together, and
when the mistake was discovered respliced with little ceremony. It was
in this Manchester Cathedral that one rector is said to have generally
begun the marriage service by instructing the awaiting crowd to "sort
yourselves in the vestry."


Some of the public buildings in Manchester are most sumptuous. The
Assize Courts are constructed in rich style, with lofty Pointed roofs
and a tall tower, and make one of the finest modern buildings in
England. The great hall is a grand apartment, and behind the courts is
the prison, near which the Fenians in 1867 made the celebrated rescue of
the prisoners from the van for which some of the assailants were hanged
and others transported. The Royal Exchange is a massive structure in the
Italian style, with a fine portico, dome, and towers; the hall within
is said to be probably the largest room in England, having a width of
ceiling, without supports, of one hundred and twenty feet. Here on
cotton-market days assemble the buyers and sellers from all the towns in
Lancashire, and they do an enormous traffic. The new Town-Hall is also a
fine building, where the departments of the city government are
accommodated, and where they have an apartment dear to every
Englishman's heart--"a kitchen capable of preparing a banquet for eight
hundred persons." The warehouses of Manchester are famous for their size
and solidity, and could Arkwright come back and see what his
cotton-spinning machinery has produced, he would be amazed. It was in
Manchester that the famous Dr. Dalton, the founder of the atomic theory
in chemistry, lived; he was a devout Quaker, like so many of the
townspeople, but unfortunately was color-blind; he appeared on one
occasion in a scarlet waistcoat, and when taken to task declared it
seemed to him a very quiet, unobtrusive color, just like his own coat.
Several fine parks grace the suburbs of Manchester, and King Cotton has
made this thriving community the second city in England, while for miles
along the beautifully shaded roads that lead into the suburbs the
opulent merchants and manufacturers have built their ornamental villas.



[Illustration: FURNESS ABBEY.]

The irregularly-shaped district of Lancashire partly cut off from the
remainder of the county by an arm of the Irish Sea is known as Furness.
It is a wild and rugged region, best known from the famous Furness Abbey
and its port of Barrow-in-Furness, one of the most remarkable examples
in England of quick city growth. Forty years ago this was an
insignificant fishing village; now Barrow has magnificent docks and a
fine harbor protected by the natural breakwater of Walney Island, great
iron-foundries and the largest jute-manufactory in the world; while it
has recently also became a favorite port for iron shipbuilding. About
two miles distant, and in a romantic glen called the Valley of Deadly
Nightshade, not far from the sea, is one of the finest examples of
mediæval church-architecture in England, the ruins of Furness Abbey,
founded in the twelfth century by King Stephen and Maud, his queen. It
was a splendid abbey, standing high in rank and power, its income in the
reign of Edward I. being $90,000 a year, an enormous sum for that early
day. The ruins are in fine preservation, and effigies of Stephen and
Maud are on each side of the great east window. For twelve reigns the
charters of sovereigns and bulls of popes confirmed the abbots of
Furness in their extraordinary powers, which extended over the district
of Furness, while the situation of the abbey made them military
chieftains, and they erected a watch-tower on a high hill, from which
signals alarmed the coast on the approach of an enemy. The church is
three hundred and four feet long, and from the centre rose a tower,
three of the massive supporting pillars of which remain, but the tower
has fallen and lies a mass of rubbish; the stained glass from the great
east window having been removed to Bowness Church, in Westmorelandshire.
The abbey enclosure, covering eighty-five acres, was surrounded by a
wall, the ruins of which are now covered with thick foliage. This
renowned abbey was surrendered and dismantled in Henry VIII.'s reign;
the present hotel near the ruins was formerly the abbot's residence.

The river Ribble, which flows into the Irish Sea through a wide estuary,
drains the western slopes of the Pennine Hills, which divide Lancashire
from Yorkshire. Up in the north-western portion of Lancashire, near the
bases of these hills, is a moist region known as the parish of Mitton,
where, as the poet tells us,

  "The Hodder, the Calder, Ribble, and rain
  All meet together in Mitton domain."

In Mitton parish, amid the woods along the Hodder and on the north side
of the valley of the Ribble, stands the splendid domed towers of the
baronial edifice of Stonyhurst, now the famous Jesuit College of
England, where the sons of the Catholic nobility and gentry are
educated. The present building is about three hundred years old, and
quaint gardens adjoin it, while quite an extensive park surrounds the
college. Not far away are Clytheroe Castle and the beautiful ruins of
Whalley Abbey. The Stonyhurst gardens are said to remain substantially
as their designer, Sir Nicholas Sherburne, left them. A capacious
water-basin is located in the centre, with the leaden statue of Regulus
in chains standing in the midst of the water. Summer-houses with tall
pointed roofs are at each lower extremity of the garden, while an
observatory is upon a commanding elevation. Tall screens of clipped
yews, cut square ten feet high and five feet thick, divide the beds upon
one side of the gardens, so that as you walk among them you are
enveloped in a green yet pleasant solitude. Arched doorways are cut
through the yews, and in one place, descending by broad and easy steps,
there is a solemn, cool, and twilight walk formed by the overarching
yews, the very place for religious meditation. Then, reascending, this
sombre walk opens into air and sunshine amid delicious flower-gardens.
On the opposite side of the gardens are walls hung with fruit, and
plantations of kitchen vegetables. This charming place was fixed upon by
the Jesuits for their college in 1794, when driven from Liège by the
proscriptions of the French Revolution. The old building and the
additions then erected enclose a large quadrangular court. In the front
of the college, at the southern angle, is a fine little Gothic church,
built fifty years ago. The college refectory is a splendid baronial
hall. In the Mitton village-church near by are the tombs of the
Sherburne family, the most singular monument being that to Sir Richard
and his lady, which the villagers point out as "old Fiddle o' God and
his wife"--Fiddle o' God being his customary exclamation when angry,
which tradition says was not seldom. The figures are kneeling--he in
ruff and jerkin, she in black gown and hood, with tan-leather gloves
extending up her arms. These figures, being highly colored, as was the
fashion in the olden time, have a ludicrous appearance. We are told that
when these monuments came from London they were the talk of the whole
country round. A stonemason bragged that he could cut out as good a
figure in common stone. Taken at his word, he was put to the test, and
carved the effigy of a knight in freestone which so pleased the
Sherburne family that they gave him one hundred dollars for it, and it
is now set in the wall outside the church, near the monuments.



John of Gaunt, "time-honored Lancaster," was granted the Duchy of
Lancaster by his father, King Edward III., but the place which stands
upon the river Lune is of much greater antiquity. It was a Roman camp,
and hence its name. The Picts destroyed it when the Romans left; the
Saxons afterwards restored it, and ultimately it gave the name to the
county. King John gave the town a charter, and John of Gaunt rebuilt the
fortress, which became indissolubly connected with the fortunes of the
House of Lancaster. Though sometimes besieged, it was maintained more
for purposes of state than of war, and two centuries ago it still
existed in all its ancient splendor, commanding the city and the sea.
Lancaster stands on the slope of an eminence rising from the river Lune,
and the castle-towers crown the summit, the fortress being spacious,
with a large courtyard and variously-shaped towers. The keep is square,
enormously strong, and defended by two semi-octagonal towers. This keep
is known as "John of Gaunt's Chair," and commands a fine view of the
surrounding country and far away across the sea to the distant outlines
of the Isle of Man. This famous castle, partly modernized, is now used
for the county jail and courts, the prison-chapel being in the keep. In
the town several large manufactories attest the presiding genius of
Lancashire, and the inn is the comfortable and old-fashioned King's Arms
described by Dickens.

[Illustration: BRADDA HEAD.]


[Illustration: KIRK BRADDEN.]

Let us go off from the Lancashire coast to that strange island which
lies in the sea midway between England, Scotland, and Ireland, and whose
bold shores are visible from "John of Gaunt's Chair." It stretches for
thirty-three miles from its northern extremity at the point of Ayre to
the bold detached cliffs of the little islet at the southern end known
as the Calf of Man. Covering two hundred and twenty-seven square miles
area, its coasts are irregular, its shores in several places
precipitous, and a range of mountains traverses the entire island, the
highest peak being Snaefell, rising 2024 feet, with North Barrule at one
extremity and Cronk-ny-Jay Llaa, or "The Hill of the Rising Day," at the
other. Man is a miniature kingdom, with its reproduction, sometimes in
dwarf, of everything that other kingdoms have. It has four little
rivers, the Neb, Colby, Black and Gray Waters, with little gems of
cascades; has its own dialect, the Manx, and a parliament in miniature,
known as the Council, or Upper House, and the House of Keys. It is a
healthful resort, for all the winds that blow come from the sea, and its
sea-views are striking, the rugged masses of Bradda Head, the
mellow-coloring of the Calf, and the broad expanse of waters, dotted by
scores of fishing-boats, making many scenes of artistic merit. While the
want of trees makes the land-views harsh and cold, yet the glens and
coves opening into the sea are the charms of Manx scenery, the high
fuchsia-hedges surrounding many of the cottages giving bright coloring
to the landscape when the flowers are in bloom. It is a beautiful place
when once the tourist is able to land there, but the wharf arrangements
are not so good as they might be. Once landed, the visitor usually first
proceeds to solve the great zoological problem the island has long
presented to the outer world, and finds that the Isle of Man does really
possess a breed of tailless cats, whose caudal extremity is either
altogether wanting or at most is reduced to a merely rudimental

[Illustration: RHENASS WATERFALL.]


[Illustration: CASTLE RUSHEN.]

Landing at the capital, Castletown, it is found that it gets its name
from the ancient castle of Rushen, around which the town is built.
Guttred the Dane is said to have built this castle nine hundred years
ago, and to be buried beneath it, although Cardinal Wolsey constructed
the surrounding stone glacis. The keep--into which the prisoners had to
be lowered by ropes--and several parts of the interior buildings remain
almost entire, but repeated sieges so wrecked the other portions that
they have had to be restored. At the castle-entrance were stone chairs
for the governor and judges. It was here that the eminent men who have
ruled the Isle of Man presided, among them being Regulus, who was King
of Man, and the famous Percy, who was attainted of high treason in 1403.
Afterwards it was ruled by the Earls of Derby, who relinquished the
title of king and took that of Lord of Man, holding their sovereignty
until they sold it and the castles and patronage of the island to the
Crown in 1764 for $350,000. With such a history it is natural that
Castle Rushen should have a weird interest attached to it, and the
ancient chroniclers tell of a mysterious apartment within "which has
never been opened in the memory of man." Tradition says that this famous
castle was first inhabited by fairies, and afterwards by the giants,
until Merlin, by his magic power, dislodged most of the giants and bound
the others in spells. In proof of this it is said there are fine
apartments underneath the ground, to explore which several venturesome
persons have gone down, only one of whom ever returned. To save the
lives of the reckless would be explorers, therefore, this mysterious
apartment, which gives entrance underground, is kept shut. The one who
returned is described as an "explorer of uncommon courage," who managed
to get back by the help of a clue of packthread which he took with him,
and was thus able to retrace his steps. He had a wondrous tale to tell.
After passing a number of vaults, and through a long, narrow passage
which descended for more than a mile, he saw a little gleam of light,
and gladly sought it out. The light came from a magnificent house,
brilliantly illuminated. Having "well fortified himself with brandy
before beginning the exploration," he courageously knocked at the door,
and at the third knock a servant appeared, demanding what was wanted. He
asked for directions how to proceed farther, as the house seemed to
block the passage. The servant, after some parley, led him through the
house and out at the back door. He walked a long distance, and then
beheld another house, more magnificent than the first, where, the
windows being open, he saw innumerable lamps burning in all the rooms.
He was about to knock, but first had the curiosity to peep through a
window into the parlor. There was a large black marble table in the
middle of the room, and on it lay at full length a giant who, the
explorer says, was "at least fourteen feet long and ten feet round the
body." The giant lay with his head pillowed on a book, as if asleep, and
there was a prodigious sword alongside him, proportioned to the hand
that was to use it. This sight was so terrifying that the explorer made
the best of his way back to the first house, where the servant told him
that if he had knocked at the giant's door he would have had company
enough, but would have never returned. He desired to know what place it
was, but was told, "These things are not to be revealed." Then he made
his way back to daylight by the aid of the clue of packthread as quickly
as possible, and we are told that no one has ventured down there since.
This is but one of the many tales of mystery surrounding the venerable
Rushen Castle.


[Illustration: PEELE CASTLE.]

The Isle of Man derives its name from the ancient British word _mon_,
which means "isolated." Around this singular place there are many rocky
islets, also isolated, and upon one of the most picturesque of these,
where art and Nature have vied in adding strength to beauty, is built
the castle of Peele, off the western coast, overlooking the distant
shores of Ireland. This castle is perched upon a huge rock, rising for a
great height out of the sea, and completely inaccessible, except by the
approach which has been constructed on the side towards the Isle of Man,
where the little town of Peele is located. After crossing the arm of the
sea separating the castle from the town, the visitor, landing at the
foot of the rock, ascends about sixty steps, cut out of it, to the first
wall, which is massive and high, and built of the old red sandstone in
which the island abounds; the gates in this wall are of wood, curiously
arched and carved, and four little watch-towers on the wall overlook the
sea. Having entered, he mounts by another shorter stairway cut out of
the rock to the second wall, built like the other, and both of them full
of portholes for cannon. Passing through yet a third wall, there is
found a broad plain upon the top of the rock, where stands the castle,
surrounded by four churches, three almost entirely ruined; the other
church (St. Germain's) is kept in some repair because it has within the
bishop's chapel, while beneath is a horrible dungeon where the sea runs
in and out through hollows of the rock with a continual roar; a steep
and narrow stairway descends to the dungeon and burial-vaults, and
within are thirteen pillars supporting the chapel above. Beware, if
going down, of failing to count the pillars, for we are told that he who
neglects this is sure to do something that will occasion his confinement
in this dreadful dungeon. This famous castle of Peele even in its
partly-ruined state has several noble apartments, and here were located
some of the most interesting scenes of Scott's novel of _Peveril of the
Peak_. It was in former days a state-prison, and in it were at one time
confined Warwick the King-maker, and also Gloucester's haughty wife,
Eleanor; her discontented spectre was said to haunt the battlements in
former years, and stand motionless beside one of the watch-towers, only
disappearing when the cock crew or church-bell tolled: another
apparition, a shaggy spaniel known as the Manthe Doog, also haunted the
castle, particularly the guard-chamber, where the dog came and lay down
at candlelight; the soldiers lost much of their terror by the frequency
of the sight, but none of them liked to be left alone with him, though
he did not molest them. The dog came out by a passage through the church
where the soldiers had to go to deliver the keys to their captain, and
for moral support they never went that way alone. One of the soldiers,
we are told, on a certain night, "being much disguised in liquor" (for
spirits of various kinds appear in the Isle of Man, as most other
places), insisted upon going with the keys alone, and could not be
dissuaded; he said he was determined to discover whether the apparition
was dog or devil, and, snatching the keys, departed: soon there was a
great noise, but none ventured to ascertain the cause. When the soldier
returned he was speechless and horror-stricken, nor would he ever by
word or sign tell what had happened to him, but soon died in agony; then
the passage was walled up, and the Manthe Doog was never more seen at
Castle Peele.



North of Lancashire, in the counties of Westmoreland and Cumberland, is
the famous "Lake Country" of England. It does not cover a large area--in
fact, a good pedestrian can walk from one extremity of the region to the
other in a day--but its compact beauties have a charm of rugged outline
and luxuriant detail that in a condensed form reproduce the Alpine lakes
of Northern Italy. Derwentwater is conceded to be the finest of these
English lakes, but there is also great beauty in Windermere and
Ulleswater, Buttermere and Wastwater. The Derwent runs like a thread
through the glassy bead of Derwentwater, a magnificent oval lake set
among the hills, about three miles long and half that breadth, alongside
which rises the frowning Mount Skiddaw with its pair of rounded heads.
In entering the Lake Region from the Lancashire side we first come to
the pretty Windermere Lake, the largest of these inland sheets of water,
about ten miles long and one mile broad in the widest part. From Orrest
Head, near the village of Windermere, there is a magnificent view of the
lake from end to end, though tourists prefer usually to go to the
village of Bowness on the bank, where steamers start at frequent
intervals and make the circuit of the pretty lake. From Bowness the
route is by Rydal Mount, where the poet Wordsworth lived, to Koswick,
about twenty-three miles distant, on Derwentwater.

[Illustration: FALLS OF LODORE.]

The attractive Derwent flows down through the Borrowdale Valley past
Seathwaite, where for many a year there has been worked a famous mine of
plumbago: we use it for lead-pencils, but our English ancestors, while
making it valuable for marking their sheep, prized it still more highly
as a remedy for colic and other human ills. There are several
pencil-mills in the village, which, in addition to other claims for
fame, is noted as one of the rainiest spots in England, the annual
rainfall at Seathwaite sometimes reaching one hundred and eighty-two
inches. The Derwent flows on through a gorge past the isolated pyramidal
rock known as Castle Crag, and the famous Bowder Stone, which has fallen
into the gorge from the crags above, to the hamlet of Grange, where a
picturesque bridge spans the little river. We are told that the
inhabitants once built a wall across the narrowest part of this valley:
having long noticed the coincident appearance of spring and the cuckoo,
they rashly concluded that the latter was the cause of the former, and
that if they could only retain the bird their pleasant valley would
enjoy perpetual spring; they built the wall as spring lengthened into
summer, and with the autumn came the crisis. The wall had risen to a
considerable height when the cuckoo with the approach of colder weather
was sounding its somewhat asthmatic notes as it moved from tree to tree
down the valley; it neared the wall, and as the population held their
breath it suddenly flew over, and carried the spring away with it down
the Derwent. Judge of the popular disgust when the sages of that region
complainingly remarked that, having crossed but a few inches above the
topmost stones of the wall, if the builders had only carried it a course
or two higher the cuckoo might have been kept at home, and their valley
thus have enjoyed a perennial spring.

The Derwent flows on along its gorge, which has been slowly ground out
by a glacier in past ages, and enters the lake through the marshy, flat,
reedy delta that rather detracts from the appearance of its upper end.
Not far away a small waterfall comes tumbling over the crags among the
foliage; this miniature Niagara has a fame almost as great as the mighty
cataract of the New World, for it is the "Fall of Lodore," about which,
in answer to his little boy's question, "How does the water come down at
Lodore?" Southey wrote his well-known poem that is such a triumph of
versification, and from which this is a quotation:

  "Flying and flinging, writhing and wringing,
  Eddying and whisking, spouting and frisking,
      Turning and twisting
  Around and around, with endless rebound,
  Smiting and fighting, a sight to delight in,
      Confounding, astounding.
  Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound;
  All at once, and all o'er, with mighty uproar--
  And this way the water conies down at Lodore."

Thus we reach the border of Derwentwater, nestling beneath the fells and
crags, as its miniature surrounding mountains are called. Little wooded
islets dimple the surface of the lake, in the centre being the largest,
St. Herbert's Island, where once that saint lived in a solitary cell: he
was the bosom friend of St. Cuthbert, the missionary of Northumberland,
and made an annual pilgrimage over the Pennine Hills to visit him;
loving each other in life, in death they were not divided, for
Wordsworth tells us that

  "These holy men both died in the same hour."

Another islet is known as Lord's Island, where now the rooks are in full
possession, but where once was the home of the ill-fated Earl of
Derwentwater, who was beheaded in 1716 for espousing the Pretender's
cause. It is related that before his execution on Tower Hill he closely
viewed the block, and finding a rough place which might offend his neck,
he bade the headsman chip it off; this done, he cheerfully placed his
head upon it, gave the sign, and died: his estates were forfeited and
settled by the king on Greenwich Hospital. Castle Hill rises boldly on
the shore above Derwent Isle, where there is a pretty residence, and
every few years there is added to the other islets on the bosom of the
lake the "Floating Island," a mass of vegetable matter that becomes
detached from the marsh at the upper end. At Friar's Crag, beneath
Castle Hill, the lake begins to narrow, and at Portinscale the Derwent
flows out, receives the waters of the Greta coming from Keswick, and,
after flowing a short distance through the meadow-land, expands again
into Bassenthwaite Lake, a region of somewhat tamer yet still beautiful

The town of Keswick stands some distance back from the border of
Derwentwater, and is noted as having been the residence of Southey. In
Greta Hall, an unpretentious house in the town, Southey lived for forty
years, dying there in 1843. He was laid to rest in the parish church of
Crosthwaite, just outside the town. At the pretty little church there is
a marble altar-tomb, the inscription on which to Southey's memory was
written by Wordsworth. Greta Hall was also for three years the home of
Coleridge, the two families dwelling under the same roof. Behind the
modest house rises Skiddaw, the bare crags of the rounded summits being
elevated over three thousand feet, and beyond it the hills and moors of
the Skiddaw Forest stretch northward to the Solway, with the Scruffel
Hill beyond. Upon a slope of the mountain, not far from Keswick, is a
Druids' circle, whose builders scores of centuries ago watched the mists
on Skiddaw's summit, as the people there do now, to foretell a change of
weather as the clouds might rise or fall, for they tell us that

  "If Skiddaw hath a cap,
  Scruffel wots full well of that."


At Kendal, in Westmorelandshire, are the ruins of Kendal Castle, a relic
of the Norman days, but long since gone to decay. Here lived the
ancestors of King Henry VIII.'s last wife, Queen Catharine Parr.
Opposite it are the ruins of Castle How, and not far away the quaint
appendage known as Castle Dairy, replete with heraldic carvings. It was
in the town of Kendal that was made the foresters' woollen cloth known
as "Kendal green," which was the uniform of Robin Hood's band.

In the northern part of the county, on the military road to Carlisle,
are the ruins of Brougham Castle, built six hundred years ago. It was
here that the Earl of Cumberland magnificently entertained King James I.
for three days on one of his journeys out of Scotland. It is famous as
the home of the late Henry, Lord Brougham, whose ancestors held it for
many generations. The manor-house, known as Brougham Hall, has such
richness, variety, and extent of prospect from its terraces that it is
called the "Windsor of the North." Lord Brougham was much attached to
his magnificent home, and it was here in 1860 that he finished his
comprehensive work on the _British Constitution_, and wrote its famous
dedication to the queen, beginning with the memorable words, "Madame, I
presume to lay at Your Majesty's feet a work the 'result of many years'
diligent study, much calm reflection, and a long life's experience." In
close proximity to the castle is the Roman station Brocavum, founded by
Agricola in A.D. 79. Its outline is clearly defined, the camp within the
inner ditch measuring almost one thousand feet square. Various Roman
roads lead from it, and much of the materials of the outworks were built
into the original Brougham Castle.


The Solway and its firth divide England from Scotland, and this
borderland has been the scene of many deadly feuds, though happily only
in the days long agone. The castle of Carlisle was a noted border
stronghold, built of red sandstone by King William Rufus, who rebuilt
Carlisle, which had then lain in ruins two hundred years because of the
forays of the Danes. Richard III. enlarged the castle, and Henry VIII.
built the citadel. Here Mary Queen of Scots was once lodged, but in
Elizabeth's time the castle fell into decay. In the town is a fine
cathedral, which has been thoroughly restored. In a flat situation north
of Carlisle are the ruins of Scaleby Castle, once a fortress of great
strength, but almost battered to pieces when it resisted Cromwell's
forces. There are several acres enclosed within the moat, intended for
the cattle when driven in to escape the forays that came over the
border. This venerable castle is now a picturesque ruin. Twelve miles
north-east of Carlisle is Naworth Castle, near where the Roman Wall
crossed England. This is one of the finest feudal remains in Cumberland,
having been the stronghold of the Wardens of the Marches, who guarded
the border from Scottish incursions. It stands amid fine scenery, and
just to the southward is the Roman Wall, of which many remains are still
traced, while upon the high moorland in the neighborhood is the paved
Roman Road, twelve feet wide and laid with stone. At Naworth there was
always a strong garrison, for the border was rarely at peace, and

  "Stern on the angry confines Naworth rose,
  In dark woods islanded; its towers looked forth
  And frowned defiance on the angry North."

Here lived, with a host of retainers, the famous "belted Will"--Lord
William Howard, son of the fourth Duke of Norfolk--who in the early part
of the seventeenth century finally brought peace to the border by his
judicious exercise for many years of the Warden's powers. It is of this
famous soldier and chivalrous knight, whose praises are even yet sung in
the borderland, that Scott has written--

            "Howard, than whom knight
  Was never dubbed more bold in fight,
  Nor, when from war and armor free.
  More famed for stately courtesy."




     The Peak of Derbyshire--Castleton--Bess of Hardwicke--Hardwicke
     Hall--Bolsover Castle--The Wye and the
     Derwent--Buxton--Bakewell--Haddon Hall--The King of the
     Peak--Dorothy Vernon--Rowsley--The Peacock Inn--Chatsworth--The
     Victoria Regia--Matlock--Dovedale--Beauchief Abbey--Stafford
     Castle--Trentham Hall--Tamworth--Tutbury Castle--Chartley
     Castle--Alton Towers--Shrewsbury Castle--Bridgenorth--Wenlock
     Abbey--Ludlow Castle--The Feathers Inn--Lichfield Cathedral--Dr.
     Samuel Johnson--Coventry--Lady Godiva and Peeping Tom--Belvoir
     Castle--Charnwood Forest--Groby and Bradgate--Elizabeth Widvile and
     Lady Jane Grey--Ulverscroft Priory--Grace Dieu Abbey--Ashby de la
     Zouche--Langley Priory--Leicester Abbey and Castle--Bosworth
     Field--Edgehill--Naseby--The Land of
     --Boulton and Watt--Fotheringhay Castle--Holmby House--Bedford
     Castle--John Bunyan--Woburn Abbey and the Russells--Stowe--Whaddon
     Hall--Great Hampden--Creslow House.


The river Mersey takes its sources--for it is formed by the union of
several smaller streams--in the ranges of high limestone hills east of
Liverpool, in North Derbyshire. These hills are an extension of the
Pennine range that makes the backbone of England, and in Derbyshire they
rise to a height of nearly two thousand feet, giving most picturesque
scenery. The broad top of the range at its highest part is called the
Kinderscout, or, more familiarly, "The Peak." The mountain-top is a vast
moor, abounding in deep holes and water-pools, uninhabited excepting by
the stray sportsman or tourist, and dangerous and difficult to cross.
Yet, once mounted to the top, there are good views of the wild scenery
of the Derbyshire hills, with the villages nestling in the glens, and of
the "Kinder Fall," where much of the water from the summit pours down a
cataract of some five hundred feet height, while not far away is the
"Mermaid's Pool," where, if you go at the midnight hour that ushers in
Easter Sunday, and look steadily into the water, you will see a mermaid.
The man who ventures upon that treacherous bogland by night certainly
deserves to see the best mermaid the Peak can produce. This limestone
region is a famous place. In the sheltered valley to the westward of the
Kinderscout is the village of Castleton, almost covered in by high hills
on all sides. It was here upon a bold cliff to the southward of the
village that "Peveril of the Peak" built his renowned castle at the time
of the Norman Conquest, of which only the ruins of the keep and part of
the outer walls remain. Almost inaccessible, it possessed the
extraordinary powers of defence that were necessary in those troublous
times, and here its founder gave a grand tournament, to which young
knights came from far and near, the successful knight of Lorraine being
rewarded by his daughter's hand. In the time of Edward III. this "Castle
of the Peak" reverted to the Crown, but now it is held by the Duke of
Devonshire. Under the hill on which the ruins stand is the "Cavern of
the Peak," with a fine entrance in a gloomy recess formed by a chasm in
the rocks. This entrance makes a Gothic arch over one thousand feet
wide, above which the rock towers nearly three hundred feet, and it is
chequered with colored stones. Within is a vast flat-roofed cavern, at
the farther side being a lake over which the visitors are ferried in a
boat. Other caverns are within, the entire cave extending nearly a half
mile, a little river traversing its full length. There are more and
similar caverns in the neighborhood.



[Illustration: HARDWICKE HALL.]

One of the great characters of the sixteenth century was Elizabeth,
Countess of Shrewsbury, familiarly known as "Bess of Hardwicke," where
she was born, and who managed to outlive four husbands, thus showing
what success is in store for a woman of tact and business talent. She
was a penniless bride at fourteen, when she married an opulent gentleman
of Derbyshire named Barley, who left her at fifteen a wealthy widow. At
the age of thirty she married another rich husband, Sir William
Cavendish, the ancestor of the Dukes of Devonshire, who died in 1557,
leaving her again a widow, but with large estates, for she had taken
good care to look after the proper marriage settlements; and in fact,
even in those early days, a pretty good fortune was necessary to provide
for the family of eight children Sir William left her. She next married
Sir William Loe, who also had large estates and was the captain of the
king's guard, the lady's business tact procuring in advance of the
wedding the settlement of these estates upon herself and her children--a
hard condition, with which, the historian tells us, "the gallant
captain, who had a family by a former marriage, felt himself constrained
to comply or forego his bride." But in time the captain died, and his
estates all went to the thrifty lady, to the exclusion of his own
family; and to the blooming widow, thus made for the third time, there
came a-courting the Earl of Shrewsbury; the earl had numerous offspring,
and therefore could hardly give Bess all his possessions, like her other
husbands, but she was clever enough to obtain her object in another way.
As a condition precedent to accepting the earl, she made him marry two
of his children to two of hers, and after seeing these two weddings
solemnized, the earl led her to the altar for the fourth time at the
age of fifty; and we are told that all four of these weddings were
actual "love-matches." But she did not get on well with the earl, whose
correspondence shows she was a little shrewish, though in most quarrels
she managed to come off ahead, having by that time acquired experience.
When the earl died in 1590, and Bess concluded not again to attempt
matrimony, she was immensely rich and was seized with a mania for
building, which has left to the present day three memorable houses:
Hardwicke Hall, where she lived, Bolsover Castle, and the palace of
Chatsworth, which she began, and on which she lavished the enormous sum,
for that day, of $400,000. The legend runs that she was told that so
long as she kept building her life would be spared--an architect's ruse
possibly; and when finally she died it was during a period of hard
frost, when the masons could not work.


Hardwicke Hall, near Mansfield, which the renowned Bess has left as one
of her monuments, is about three hundred years old, and approached by a
noble avenue through a spacious park; it is still among the possessions
of the Cavendish family and in the Duke of Devonshire's estates. The old
hall where Bess was born almost touches the new one that she built, and
which bears the initials of the proud and determined woman in many
places outside and in. It was here that Mary Queen of Scots was held in
captivity part of the time that she was placed by Queen Elizabeth in the
custody of the Earl of Shrewsbury, and her statue stands in the hall.
There is an extensive picture-gallery containing many historical
portraits, and also fine state-apartments. The mansion is a lofty oblong
stone structure, with tall square towers at each corner, the
architecture being one of the best specimens of the Elizabethan Period;
on the side, as viewed from the park, the hall seems all windows, which
accounts for the saying of that neighborhood:

  "Hardwicke Hall, more glass than wall."

The ruins of the old hall, almost overgrown with ivy, are picturesque,
but from everywhere on the ancient or on the modern hall there peer out
the initials "E. S.," with which the prudent Bess was so careful to mark
all her possessions.


[Illustration: BOLSOVER CASTLE.]

The noted Bolsover Castle, which Bess also built, though her son
finished it after her death, stands in a magnificent position on a high
plateau not far from Chesterfield, overlooking a wide expanse of
Derbyshire. The present castle replaced an ancient structure that had
fallen into ruin, and was supposed to have been built by "Peveril of the
Peak;" it was fortified during King John's time, and traces of the
fortifications still remain; it was repeatedly besieged and taken by
assault. The present building is a square and lofty mansion of
castellated appearance, with towers at the corners built of brown stone;
in it the Earl of Newcastle, who subsequently inherited it, spent on one
occasion $75,000 in entertaining King Charles I., the entire country
round being invited to come and attend the king: Ben Jonson performed a
play for his amusement. Lord Clarendon speaks of the occasion as "such
an excess of feasting as had scarce ever been known in England before."
It now belongs to the Duke of Portland, and has fallen into partial
decay, with trees growing in some of the deserted apartments and ivy
creeping along the walls. Visitors describe it as a ghostly house, with
long vaulted passages, subterranean chambers, dungeon-like holes in the
towers, and mysterious spaces beneath the vaults whence come weird
noises. When Mr. Jennings visited Bolsover recently he described it as
like a haunted house, and after examining the apartments, in which most
things seemed going to decay, he went down stairs, guided by an old
woman, to the cellars and passages that are said to be the remains of
the original Norman castle. A chamber with a high vaulted roof was used
as a kitchen, and an ancient stone passage connected it with a crypt;
beneath this, she told him, there was a church, never opened since the
days of Peveril. Their voices had a hollow sound, and their footsteps
awakened echoes as if from a large empty space beneath: the servants,
she said, were afraid to come down where they were, excepting by twos
and threes, and she added: "Many people have seen things here besides
me: something bad has been done here, sir, and when they open that
church below they'll find it out. Just where you stand by that door I
have several times seen a lady and gentleman--only for a moment or two,
for they come like a flash; when I have been sitting in the kitchen, not
thinking of any such thing, they stood there--the gentleman with ruffles
on, the lady with a scarf round her waist; I never believed in ghosts,
but I have seen _them_. I am used to it now, and don't mind it, but we
do not like the noises, because they disturb us. Not long ago my
husband, who comes here at night, and I could not sleep at all, and we
thought at last that somebody had got shut up in the castle, for some
children had been here that day; so we lit a candle and went all over
it, but there was nothing, only the noises following us, and keeping on
worse than ever after we left the rooms, though they stopped while we
were in them." The old woman's tale shows the atmosphere there is about
this sombre and ghostly castle of Bolsover.


[Illustration: THE CRESCENT, BUXTON.]

These two noted rivers take their rise in the Derbyshire hills, and,
coming together at Rowsley near the pretty Peacock Inn, flow down to the
sea through the valleys of the Wye, the Trent, and the Humber. Rising in
the limestone hills to the north of Buxton, the Wye flows past that
celebrated bath, where the Romans first set the example of seeking its
healing waters, both hot and cold springs gushing from the rocks in
close proximity. It stands nine hundred feet above the sea, its nucleus,
"The Crescent," having been built by the Duke of Devonshire; and the
miraculous cures wrought by St. Mary's Well are noted by Charles Cotton
among the _Wonders of the Peak_. From Buxton the Wye follows a romantic
glen to Bakewell, the winding valley being availed of, by frequent
tunnels, viaducts, and embankments, as a route for the Midland Railway.
In this romantic glen is the remarkable limestone crag known as Chee
Tor, where the curving valley contracts into a narrow gorge. The gray
limestone cliffs are in many places overgrown with ivy, while trees find
rooting-places in their fissures. Tributary brooks fall into the Wye,
all flowing through miniature dales that disclose successive beauties,
and then at a point where the limestone hills recede from the river,
expanding the valley, Bakewell is reached. Here are also mineral
springs, but the most important place in the town is the parish church,
parts of which are seven hundred years old. It is a picturesque
building, cruciform, with a spire, and is rich in sepulchral remains,
containing the ancestors of the Duke of Rutland--who owns the town--in
the tombs of a long line of Vernons and Manners. In the churchyard are
several curious epitaphs, among them that of John Dale and his two
wives, the inscription concluding,

  "A period's come to all their toylsome lives;
  The good man's quiet--still are both his wives."

In this churchyard is also the well-known epitaph often quoted:

  "Beneath a sleeping infant lies, to earth whose body lent,
  More glorious shall hereafter rise, tho' not more innocent.
  When the archangels trump shall blow, and souls to bodies join,
  Millions will wish their lives below had been as short as thine."

[Illustration: BAKEWELL CHURCH.]


Three miles below Bakewell, near the Wye, is one of the most famous old
mansions of England--Haddon Hall. This ancient baronial home, with its
series of houses, its courtyards, towers, embattled walls, and gardens,
stands on the side of a hill sloping down to the Wye, while the railway
has pierced a tunnel through the hill almost underneath the structure.
The buildings surround two courtyards paved with large stones, and cover
a space of nearly three hundred feet square. Outside the arched
entrance-gate to the first courtyard is a low thatched cottage used as a
porter's lodge. Haddon is maintained, not as a residence, but to give as
perfect an idea as possible of a baronial hall of the Middle Ages. To
get to the entrance the visitor toils up a rather steep hill, and on the
way passes two remarkable yew trees, cut to represent the crests of the
two families whose union by a romantic marriage is one of the traditions
of this famous place. One yew represents the peacock of Manners, the
present ducal house of Rutland, and the other the boar's head of Vernon.
Parts of this house, like so many structures in the neighborhood, were
built in the time of "Peveril of the Peak," and its great hall was the
"Martindale Hall" of Scott's novel, thus coming down to us through eight
centuries, and nearly all the buildings are at least four hundred years

[Illustration: HADDON HALL, FROM THE WYE.]

Entering the gateway, the porter's guard-room is seen on the right hand,
with the ancient "peephole" through which he scanned visitors before
admitting them. Mounting the steps to the first courtyard, which is on a
lower level than the other, the chapel and the hall are seen on either
hand, while in front are the steps leading to the state-apartments. The
buildings are not lofty, but there are second-floor rooms in almost all
parts, which were occupied by the household. There is an extensive
ball-room, while the Eagle Tower rises at one corner of the court. Many
relics of the olden time are preserved in these apartments. The ancient
chapel is entered by an arched doorway from the court, and consists of a
nave, chancel, and side aisle, with an antique Norman font and a large
high-back pew used by the family. After passing the court, the
banquet-hall is entered, thirty-five by twenty-five feet, and rising to
the full height of the building. In one of the doorways is a bracket to
which an iron ring is attached, which was used, as we are told, "to
enforce the laws of conviviality." When a guest failed to drink his
allowance of wine he was suspended by the wrist to this ring, and the
liquor he failed to pour down his throat was poured into his sleeve. A
tall screen at the end of the room formed the front of a gallery, where
on great occasions minstrels discoursed sweet music, while at the
opposite end the lord and his honored guests sat on a raised dais. Here
still stands the old table, while behind the dais a flight of stairs
leads up to the state-apartments. Stags' heads and antlers of great age
are on the walls. Another door opens out of the banquet-hall into the
dining-room, the end of which is entirely taken up with a fine Gothic
window displaying the Vernon arms and quarterings. This room is
elaborately wainscoted. The royal arms are inscribed over the fireplace,
and below them is the Vernon motto carved in Gothic letters:

  "Drede God and Honour the Kyng."

An exquisite oriel window looks out from this room over the woods and
grounds of Haddon, the recess bearing on one of its panels the head of
Will Somers, who was Henry VIII.'s jester. The drawing-room, which is
over the dining-room, is hung with old tapestry, above which is a frieze
of ornamental mouldings. A pretty recessed window also gives from this
room a delightful view over the grounds.


The gem of Haddon is the long gallery or ball-room, which extends over
one hundred feet along one side of the inner court: the semicircular
wooden steps leading to this apartment are said to have been cut from a
single tree that grew in the park. The gallery is wainscoted in oak in
semicircular arched panels, alternately large and small, surmounted by a
frieze and a turreted and battlemented cornice. The ceiling is
elaborately carved in geometric patterns, and the tracery contains the
alternating arms and crests of Vernon and Manners: the remains are still
visible of the rich gilding and painting of this ceiling. In the
anteroom paintings are hung, and from it a strongly-barred door opens
upon a flight of stone steps leading down to the terrace and garden:
this is "Dorothy Vernon's Door;" and across the garden another flight of
steps leading to the terrace is known as "Dorothy Vernon's Steps." It
was the gentle maiden's flight through this door and up these steps to
elope with John Manners that carried the old house and all its broad
lands into the possession of the family now owning it. The state bedroom
is hung with Gobelin tapestry, illustrating Æsop's fables: the state
bed is fourteen feet high, and furnished in green silk velvet and white
satin, embroidered by needlework, and its last occupant was George IV.
The kitchen and range of domestic offices are extensive, and show the
marvellous amount of cooking that was carried on in the hospitable days
of Haddon; the kitchen has a ceiling supported by massive beams and a
solid oak column in the centre; there are two huge fireplaces, scores of
stoves, spits, pothooks, and hangers, large chopping-blocks, dressers,
and tables, with attendant bakehouses, ovens, pantries, and larders;
among the relics is an enormous salting-trough hollowed out of one
immense block of wood. Beyond the garden or lawn, one hundred and twenty
feet square, extends the terrace, planted with ancient yews, whose
gnarled roots intertwine with and displace the stones. This terrace
extends the full width of the outer or upper garden, and gives a
charming view of the southern front of the hall.


More romance hangs about Haddon than probably any other old baronial
hall in England, and it has therefore been for years an endless source
of inspiration for poets, artists, and novelists. Mrs. Radcliffe here
laid some of the scenes of the _Mysteries of Udolpho_. Bennett's "King
of the Peak" was Sir George Vernon, the hospitable owner of Haddon.
Scott has written of it, a host of artists have painted its most
attractive features, and many a poet has sung of the

  "Hall of wassail which has rung
    To the unquestioned baron's jest:
  Dim old chapel, where were hung
    Offerings of the o'erfraught breast;
  Moss-clad terrace, strangely still,
    Broken shaft and crumbling frieze----
  Still as lips that used to fill
    With bugle-blasts the morning breeze."

But, unlike most baronial strongholds, the history of Haddon tells only
the romance of peace, love, and hospitality. It came by marriage into
the possession of the Vernons soon after the Conquest; one of them, Sir
Henry Vernon of Haddon, was appointed governor of Prince Arthur by Henry
VII. His grandson, Sir George Vernon, lived in such princely
magnificence at Haddon that he was known as the "King of the Peak;" his
initials, "G. V.," are carved in the banquet-hall. Around his youngest
daughter, Dorothy, gathers the chief halo of romance. The story in brief
is, that her elder sister, being the affianced bride of the son of the
Earl of Derby, was petted and made much of, while Dorothy, at sweet
sixteen, was kept in the background. She formed an attachment for John
Manners, son of the Earl of Rutland, but this her family violently
opposed, keeping her almost a prisoner: her lover, disguised as a
forester, lurked for weeks in the woods around Haddon, obtaining
occasionally a stolen interview. At length on a festal night, when the
ball-room was filled with guests summoned to celebrate the approaching
nuptials of the elder sister, and every one was so wrapped up in
enjoyment that there was no time to watch Dorothy, the maiden,
unobserved, stole out of the ball-room into the anteroom, and through
the door, across the garden, and up the steps to the terrace, where her
lover had made a signal that he was waiting. In a moment she was in his
arms, and rode away with him in the moonlight all night, across the
hills of Derbyshire, and into Leicestershire, where they were married
next morning. It was the old story--an elopement, a grand row, and then
all was forgiven. Sir George Vernon had no sons, and his daughters
divided his estate, Haddon going to Dorothy, who thus by her elopement
carried the famous hall over to the family of Manners. Dorothy died in
1584, leaving four children, the oldest, Sir George Manners, living at
Haddon and maintaining its hospitable reputation. Dying in 1679, his son
John Manners, who was the ninth Earl of Rutland, became the master of
Haddon, and "kept up the good old mansion at a bountiful rate," as the
chronicler tells us. He kept one hundred and forty servants, and had so
many retainers and guests that every day the tables in the old
banquet-hall were spread as at a Christmas feast. The earl was raised to
the rank of duke, and his son John, Duke of Rutland, known as the "Old
Man of the Hill," died in 1779, since which time the family have not
used the hall as a place of residence, having gone to Belvoir in
Leicestershire. Its present owner is the sixth Duke of Rutland, Charles
Cecil Manners, and the descendant of the famous Dorothy. There are few
places, even in England, that have the fame of Haddon, and it is one of
the chief spots sought out by the tourist. The duke maintains it just as
it existed centuries ago, with the old furniture and utensils, so as to
reproduce as faithfully as possible the English baronial hall of his


[Illustration: THE "PEACOCK," FROM THE ROAD.]




Below Haddon Hall the valley of the Wye broadens, with yet richer
scenery, as it approaches the confluence of the Wye and Derwent at
Rowsley, where the quaint old Peacock Inn, which was the manor-house of
Haddon, bears over the door the date 1653, and the crest of the ducal
House of Rutland, a peacock with tail displayed. Ascending for a short
distance the valley of the Derwent, which washes the bases of the steep
limestone hills, we come to Chatsworth. In sharp contrast with the
ancient glories of Haddon is this modern ducal palace, for whose
magnificence Bess of Hardwicke laid the foundation. This "Palace of the
Peak" stands in a park covering over two thousand acres; the Derwent
flows in front, over which the road to the palace is carried by a fine
bridge. From the river a lawn gently slopes upward to the buildings, and
the wooded hill which rises sharply behind them is surmounted by a
hunting-tower, embosomed in trees. A herd of at least a thousand deer
roam at will over the park, and have become very tame. Chatsworth is a
brownish-yellow building, square and flat-topped, with a modern and more
ornamental wing. Its front extends fully six hundred feet, and in parts
it is of that depth. The estate was bought in the sixteenth century by
Sir William Cavendish, who built the original house, a quadrangular
building with turrets, which was greatly extended by his wife. It was
used as a fortress in the Civil Wars, and was considerably battered. The
first Duke of Devonshire about the year 1700 rebuilt the mansion,
employing the chief architects, artists, designers, and wood-carvers of
his time, among them Sir Christopher Wren. In the grounds, not far from
the bridge over the Derwent, is the "Bower of Mary Queen of Scots."
There is a small, clear lake almost concealed by foliage, in the centre
of which is a tower, and on the top a grass-grown garden, where are also
several fine trees. Here, under guard, the captive was permitted to take
the air. In those days she looked out upon a broad expanse of woods and
moorland: now all around has been converted into gardens and a park.
Entering the house through a magnificent gateway, the visitor is taken
into the entrance-hall, where the frescoes represent the life and death
of Julius Cæsar; then up the grand staircase of amethyst and variegated
alabaster guarded by richly-gilded balustrades. The
gorgeously-embellished chapel is wainscoted with cedar, and has a
sculptured altar made of Derbyshire marbles. The beautiful drawing-room
opens into a series of state-apartments lined with choice woods and hung
with Gobelin tapestries representing the cartoons of Raphael.
Magnificent carvings and rare paintings adorn the walls, while the
richest decorations are everywhere displayed. Over the door of the
antechamber is a quill pen so finely carved that it almost reproduces
the real feather. In the Scarlet Room are the bed on which George II.
died and the chairs and footstools used at the coronation of George III.
On the north side of the house is another stairway of oak, also richly
gilded. In the apartments replacing those where Mary Queen of Scots
lived are her bed-hangings and tapestries. There is an extensive library
with many rare books and manuscripts, and a sculpture-gallery, lined
with Devonshire marble, containing many statues and busts, and also two
recumbent lions, each nine feet long and four feet high and weighing
four tons, and carved out of a solid block of marble. The final
enlargement of Chatsworth was completed about forty years ago, when
Queen Victoria made a state visit and was given a magnificent reception
by the Duke of Devonshire.



The gardens at Chatsworth are as noted as the house, and are to many
minds the gem of the estate. They cover about one hundred and twenty-two
acres, and are so arranged as to make a beautiful view out of every
window of the palace. All things are provided that can add to rural
beauty--fountains, cascades, running streams, lakes, rockeries,
orange-groves, hothouses, woods, sylvan dells--and no labor or expense
is spared to enhance the attractions of trees, flowers, and shrubbery.
From a stone temple, which it completely covers, the great cascade flows
down among dolphins, sea-lions, and nymphs, until it disappears among
the rocks and seeks an underground outlet into the Derwent. Enormous
stones weighing several tons are nicely balanced, so as to rock at the
touch or swing open for gates. Others overhang the paths as if a gust of
wind might blow them down. In honor of the visit of the Czar Nicholas in
1844 the great "Emperor Fountain" was constructed, which throws a column
of water to an immense height. The grounds are filled with trees planted
by kings, queens, and great people on their visits to the palace. The
finest of all the trees is a noble Spanish chestnut of sixteen feet
girth. Weeping willows do not grow at Chatsworth, but they have provided
one in the form of a metal tree, contrived so as to discharge a deluge
of raindrops from its metallic leaves and boughs when a secret spring
is touched. The glory of the Chatsworth gardens, however, is the
conservatory, a beautiful structure of glass and iron covering nearly an
acre, the arched roof in the centre rising to a height of sixty-seven
feet. In this famous hot-house are the rarest palms and tropical plants.
It was designed by Joseph Paxton, the duke's head-gardener, and,
enlarging the design, Paxton constructed in the same way the London
Crystal Palace for the Exhibition of 1851, for which service he was
knighted. Besides this rare collection of hot-house plants, the famous
Victoria Regia is in a special house at Chatsworth, growing in a tank
thirty-four feet in diameter, the water being maintained at the proper
temperature and kept constantly in motion as a running stream. The seed
for this celebrated plant was brought from Guiana, and it first bloomed
here in 1849. Some fifty persons are employed in the gardens and
grounds, besides the servants in the buildings, showing the retinue
necessary to maintain this great show-palace, for that is its chief
present use, the Duke of Devonshire seldom using it as a residence, as
he prefers the less pretentious but more comfortable seat he possesses
at Bolton in Yorkshire. North of Chatsworth Park, near Baslow, on top of
a hill, is the strange mass of limestone which can be seen from afar,
and is known as the Eagle Rock.

[Illustration: GATEWAY TO STABLE.]


[Illustration: HIGH TOR, MATLOCK.]

[Illustration: THE STRAITS, DOVEDALE.]

[Illustration: BANKS OF THE DOVE.]

Retracing the Derwent to the Wye again, the valley of the latter is open
below for several miles, and then as Matlock is approached a mass of
limestone stretching across the valley seems to bar all egress, and the
river plunges through a narrow glen. The bold gray crags of the High Tor
rise steeply on the left hand, and the gorge not being wide enough for
both river and railway, the latter pierces a tunnel through the High
Tor. The river bends sharply to the right, and the village makes a long
street along the bank and rises in terraces up the steep hill behind.
These are the "Heights of Abraham," while the pretty slope below the
High Tor is the "Lovers' Walk." Matlock is beautifully situated, and its
springs are in repute, while the caves in the neighborhood give plenty
of opportunity for that kind of exploration. The Derbyshire marbles are
quarried all about, and mosaic manufacture is carried on. It was near
Matlock that Arkwright first set up his cotton-spinning machine, and
when fortune and fame had made him Sir Richard Arkwright he built
Willersley Castle for his home, on the banks of the Derwent. The valley
of the little river Dove also presents some fine scenery, especially in
the fantastic shapes of its rocks. The river runs between steep hills
fringed with ash and oak and hawthorn, and Dovedale can be pursued for
miles with interest. One of its famous resorts is the old and
comfortable Izaak Walton Inn, sacred to anglers. In Dovedale are the
rocks called the Twelve Apostles, the Tissington Spires, the Pickering
Tor, the caverns known as the Dove Holes, and Reynard's Hall, while the
entire stream is full of memories of those celebrated fishermen of two
centuries ago, Walton and his friend Cotton.

[Illustration: TISSINGTON SPIRES.]


Before leaving Derbyshire the ruin of Beauchief Abbey, which gave the
name of Abbey Dale to one of the pleasant vales on the eastern border of
the county, must not be forgotten. It was built seven hundred years ago,
and there remains but a single fragment of this famous religious house,
the arch of the great east window. Singularly enough, under the same
roof with the abbey was built an inn, and at a short distance there is a
hermitage: the hermit's cave is scooped out of a rock elevated above the
valley and overhung with foliage. We are told that a pious baker lived
in the town of Derby who was noted for his exemplary life: the Virgin
Mary, as a proof of his faith, required him to relinquish all his
worldly goods and go to Deepdale and lead a solitary life in Christ's
service. He did as he was told, departed from Derby, but had no idea
where he was to go; directing his footsteps towards the east, he passed
through a village, and heard a woman instruct a girl to drive some
calves to Deepdale. Regarding this as an interposition of Providence,
the baker, encouraged, asked where was Deepdale; the woman told the girl
to show him. Arrived there, he found it marshy land, distant from any
human habitation; but, seeking a rising ground, he cut a small dwelling
in a rock under the side of a hill, built an altar, and there spent day
and night in the Divine service, with hunger and cold, thirst and want.
Now, it happened that a person of great consequence owned this
land--Ralph, the son of Geremund--and coming to the woods to hunt, he
saw smoke rising from the hermit's cave, and was filled with
astonishment that any one should have dared to establish a dwelling
there without his permission. Going to the place, he found the hermit
clothed in old rags and skins, and, inquiring about his case, Ralph's
anger changed to pity. To show his compassion, he granted the hermit the
ground where the hermitage stood, and also for his support the tithe of
a mill not far away. The tradition further relates "that the old Enemy
of the human race" then endeavored to make the hermit dissatisfied with
his condition, but "he resolutely endured all its calamities," and
ultimately he built a cottage and oratory, and ended his days in the
service of God. After his death, Ralph's daughter prevailed upon her
husband to dedicate Deepdale to religious uses, and he inviting the
canons, they built the abbey. We are told in Howitt's _Forest Minstrel_
of the wonder caused by the construction of the abbey, and also how in
later years the monks became corrupted by prosperity. A place is shown
to visitors where the wall between the chapel and the inn gave way to
the thirsty zeal of the monks, and through an opening their favorite
liquor was handed. The _Forest Minstrel_ tells us they

                "Forsook missal and mass
  To chant o'er a bottle or shrive a lass;
  No matin's bell called them up in the morn,
  But the yell of the hounds and sound of the horn;
  No penance the monk in his cell could stay
  But a broken leg or a rainy day:
  The pilgrim that came to the abbey-door,
  With the feet of the fallow-deer found it nailed o'er;
  The pilgrim that into the kitchen was led.
  On Sir Gilbert's venison there was fed.
  And saw skins and antlers hang o'er his head."


[Illustration: TRENTHAM HALL.]

The rivers which drain the limestone hills of Derbyshire unite to form
the Trent, and this stream, after a winding and picturesque course
through Midland England towards the eastward, flows into the Humber, and
ultimately into the North Sea. Its first course after leaving Derby is
through Staffordshire, one of the great manufacturing counties of
England, celebrated for its potteries, whose product Josiah Wedgewood so
greatly improved. The county-seat is Stafford, on the Sow River, not far
from the Trent Valley, and on a high hill south-west of the town are the
remains of the castle of the Barons, of Stafford, originally built a
thousand years ago by the Saxons to keep the Danes in check. This
castle was destroyed and rebuilt by William the Conqueror; again
destroyed and again rebuilt by Ralph de Stafford in Edward III.'s reign.
In the Civil Wars this castle was one of the last strongholds of King
Charles I., but it was ultimately taken by Cromwell's troops and
demolished, excepting the keep; a massive castellated building of modern
construction now occupies its place. The river Trent, in its winding
course, forms near Trentham a fine lake, and the beautiful neighborhood
has been availed of for the establishment of the splendid residence of
the Duke of Sutherland, about a mile west of the village, and known as
Trentham Hall. The park is extensive, the gardens are laid out around
the lake, and the noble Italian building, which is of recent
construction, has a fine campanile tower one hundred feet high, and
occupies a superb situation. The old church makes part of Trentham Hall,
and contains monuments of the duke's family and ancestors, the
Leveson-Gowers, whose extensive estates cover a wide domain in
Staffordshire. Trentham, which is in the pottery district and not far
from Newcastle-under-Lyme, was originally a monastery, founded by St.
Werburgh, niece of Æthelred. She was one of the most famous of the
Anglo-Saxon saints, and some venerable yews still mark the spot where
her original house stood, it being known as Tricengham. These yews, said
to have been planted about that time, form three sides of a square. The
religious house, rebuilt in William Rufus's reign, was given, at the
dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII., to his brother-in-law,
Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, and it afterwards came into possession
of the Levesons. From the marriage of a daughter of Sir John Leveson
with Sir Thomas Gower sprang the family of the present ducal house of
Sutherland, the head of it being created Marquis of Stafford in 1786 and
Duke of Sutherland in 1833. The present duke is the third who has held
the title, his mother having been the daughter of the Earl of
Carlisle--the famous Harriet, Duchess of Sutherland. The old Trentham
Hall was built in 1633, being rebuilt and enlarged by Sir Charles Barry
about fifty years ago.



Staffordshire contains some famous places. In the eastern part of the
county, bordering Warwick, is the ancient town of Tamworth, standing
upon the little river Tame; this was originally a fortification built
for defence against the Danes, and its castle was founded by Marmion, of
whom Scott writes,

  "They hailed Lord Marmion,
    They hailed him Lord of Fontenaye,
    Of Lutterward and Scrivelbaye,
  Of Tamworth tower and town."

Tamworth is also Shakespearian ground, for here Richmond halted on his
march to Bosworth Field, and made a stirring address to inspire his
forces for the coming combat. In later years Tamworth sent Sir Robert
Peel to Parliament, and his bronze statue adorns the market-square; the
ruins of the ancient castle are almost obliterated, and the present
castle is upon higher ground, its architecture being of various periods.
Tutbury Castle, of which little is left but a straggling mass of ruins,
stands on an eminence overlooking the Dove, and crowns a ridge of red
sandstone rock: it was a great stronghold, founded by John of Gaunt,
covering several acres, and was demolished after the Civil Wars. This
castle, like so many other famous places, was also one of the
prison-palaces of Mary Queen of Scots; although the castle is destroyed,
yet near by is its parish church of St. Mary, founded by Henry de
Ferrars in the reign of William Rufus, and known then as Ferrars Abbey:
its west end is one of the most perfect Norman fronts remaining in
England, and it has been carefully restored. Tutbury is known for some
of its ancient customs, among them the annual bull-running. A minstrel
band, after devotions and a long sermon in the abbey, had an excellent
dinner in the castle, and then repairing to the abbey-gate demanded the
bull; the prior let the bull out, with his horns and tail cut off, his
ears cropped, his body greased, and his nostrils filled with pepper to
make him furious. The bull being let loose, the steward proclaimed that
none were to come nearer than forty feet, nor to hinder the minstrels,
but all were to attend to their own safety. The minstrels were to
capture the bull before sunset, and on that side of the river, but if
they failed or he escaped across the stream, he remained the lord's
property. It was seldom possible to take him fairly, but if he was held
long enough to cut off some of his hair it was considered a capture, and
after a bull-baiting he was given to the minstrels. Thus originated the
Tutbury bull-running, which ultimately degenerated into a scene of wild
debauchery, often resulting in a terrible riot. The Duke of Devonshire,
when he came into possession of Tutbury, was compelled to abolish the
custom. About six miles from Stafford is Chartley Castle, dating from
the Conquest, and belonging to the Earls of Chester and Derby, and
subsequently to the famous Earl of Essex, who here entertained Queen
Elizabeth, and afterwards planned the plot for which she signed his
death-warrant. This castle has been many years in ruins: it had a
circular keep about fifty feet in diameter, and the present remains are
chiefly the fragments of two round towers and part of a wall twelve feet
thick, with loopholes constructed for shooting arrows at an attacking
force. Queen Mary was also imprisoned here, and a bed said to have been
wrought by her is shown in the village. This unfortunate queen seems to
have had more prisons and wrought more needlework than any other woman
in Britain.


Alton Towers, the superb home of the Earl of Shrewsbury, is also in
Staffordshire, and is one of the famous seats of England. The estate
stands on the Churnet, and the house and grounds are on one side of its
deep valley. The present mansion, a modern Gothic structure, was built
about fifty years ago on a rocky plateau overlooking the valley. An
extensive park surrounds the mansion, and there are several entrances.
Of these Quicksall Lodge ushers the visitor to a magnificent approach
known as the "Earl's Drive," extending three miles along the valley of
the Churnet, and having its natural advantages increased by the profuse
distribution along the route of statues, busts, and ornamental vases.
Another entrance is from the railway-station, where is a lodge of great
beauty, from which the road, about a mile in length, gradually ascends
to the eminence where the mansion stands. The approach by both roads is
fine, and through the intervening foliage the Towers open upon the
view--rich in spire, dome, and gable, and with their fair proportions
enhanced by the arcades that adorn the house and the antique stone
setting that brings out the majesty of the Gothic architecture. The
gardens of this fine place are beautiful, their extent being made
apparently greater than in reality by the artificially-formed terraces
and other resources of the landscape artist. The grounds are most
lavishly ornamented with statuary, vases, temples, and fountains, while
gardening is carried to perfection. There is a grand conservatory,
containing a palm-house and orangery. From the top of an elaborate
Gothic temple four stories high there is a fine view, while the Flag
Tower, a massive building with four turrets, and six stories high, is
used as an observatory. There is a delightful retreat for the weary
sightseer called the Refuge, a fine imitation of Stonehenge, and Ina's
Rock, where Ina, king of Wessex, held a parliament after his battle with
the king of Mercia. The picturesque ruins of Alton Castle and convent
are in the grounds, also the ruins of Croxden Abbey and the charming
Alton Church, which was of Norman foundation. The castle existed at the
time of the Conquest, and the domain in 1408, through the marriage of
Maude Neville to John Talbot, was brought into the possession of the
present family. Talbot having been afterwards made the first Earl of
Shrewsbury. This was the famous English warrior who was so feared in
France, where he conducted brilliant campaigns, that "with his name the
mothers stilled their babes." He was killed at the siege of Chatillon in
his eightieth year. It was the sixth Earl of Shrewsbury who married Bess
of Hardwicke and made her fourth husband. It was the fifteenth Earl of
Shrewsbury who erected the present magnificent structure, with its
varied turrets and battlements, for his summer residence, where before
stood a plain house known as Alton Lodge. Upon his tomb, in memory of
the wonderful change he wrought in the place, is the significant motto:
"He made the desert smile." The nineteenth earl is now in possession.





Westward of Stafford is the land of the "proud Salopians," Shropshire,
through which flows the Severn, on whose banks stands the ancient town
from which the Earls of Shrewsbury take their title. We are told that
the Britons founded this town, and that in Edward the Confessor's time
it had five churches and two hundred and thirty houses, fifty-one of
which were cleared away to make room for the castle erected by Roger de
Montgomery, a kinsman of William the Conqueror. The Norman king created
him Earl of Shrewsbury long before the present line of earls began with
John Talbot. Wars raged around the castle: it was besieged and battered,
for it stood an outpost in the borderland of Wales. It was here that
Henry IV. assembled an army to march against Glendower, and in the
following year fought the battle of Shrewsbury against Hotspur, then
marching to join Glendower. Hotspur's death decided the battle. The
Wars of the Roses were fought around the town, and here Henry VII., then
the Earl of Richmond, slept when going to Bosworth Field; and in the
Civil Wars King Charles had Shrewsbury's support, but Cromwell's forces
captured it. The town is on a fine peninsula almost encircled by the
Severn, and the castle stands at the entrance to the peninsula. Only the
square keep and part of the inner walls remain of the original castle,
but a fine turret has been added by modern hands. In the neighborhood of
Shrewsbury are the remains of the Roman city of Uriconium, said to have
been destroyed by the Saxons in the sixth century. Shrewsbury has always
been famous for pageants, its annual show being a grand display by the
trade societies. It is also famous for its cakes, of which Shenstone

  "And here each season do those cakes abide,
  Whose honored names the inventive city own,
  Rendering through Britain's isle Salopia's praises known."

The great Shrewsbury cake is the "simnel," made like a pie, the crust
colored with saffron and very thick. It is a confection said to be
unsafe when eaten to excess, for an old gentleman, writing from
melancholy experience in 1595, records that "sodden bread which bee
called simnels bee verie unwholesome." The Shropshire legend about its
origin is that a happy couple got into a dispute whether they should
have for dinner a boiled pudding or a baked pie. While they disputed
they got hungry, and came to a compromise by first boiling and then
baking the dish that was prepared. To the grand result of the double
process--his name being Simon and her's Nell--the combined name of
simnel was given. And thus from their happily-settled contention has
come Shrewsbury's great cake, of which all England acknowledges the




  1. From near Oldbury.
  2. Keep of the Castle.


Following down the Severn River from Shrewsbury, we come to Bridgenorth,
an ancient town planted on a steep hill, full of quaint houses, and
having an old covered market where the country-people gather on
Saturdays. The lower part is of brick, and the upper part is
black-and-white-timbered, but the human love for what is old and
familiar is shown by the way in which the people still fill up the old
market-house, though a fine new one has recently been built. The most
prized of the old houses of this venerable town is a foundry and
blacksmith shop standing by the river; it was in this house that Bishop
Percy, author of the _Reliques_, was born. On the promontory of
sandstone, which steeply rises about one hundred and eighty feet above
the river, the upper part of the town is built, and here are the ruins
of Bridgenorth Castle, which stood in an exceptionally strong situation.
The red sandstone predominates here, but not much of it remains in the
castle, there being little left excepting a huge fragment of the massive
wall of the keep, which now inclines so much on one side from the
settlement of the foundation as to be almost unsafe. This castle was
built eight hundred years ago by the third and last of the Norman Earls
of Shrewsbury: it was held for King Charles in the Civil Wars, and
underwent a month's siege before it surrendered, when the conquerors
destroyed it. Bridgenorth is the most picturesque of all the towns on
the Severn, owing to the steep promontory up which the houses extend
from the lower to the upper town and the magnificent views from the
castle. The communication with the hill is by a series of
steeply-winding alleys, each being almost a continuous stairway: they
are known as the "Steps." A bridge with projecting bastions crosses the
river and connects the higher with the lower parts of the town, thus
giving the place its name.



About twelve miles south-east of Shrewsbury is the village of Much
Wenlock, where there are remains of a magnificent abbey founded by the
Black monks, and exhibiting several of the Early English and Gothic
styles of architecture, but, like most else in these parts, it has
fallen in ruin, and many of the materials have been carried off to build
other houses. Portions of the nave, transepts, chapter-house, and
abbot's house remain, the latter being restored and making a fine
specimen of ecclesiastical domestic architecture built around a court.
An open cloister extends the entire length of the house. There are
beautiful intersecting Norman arches in the chapter-house. There are
some quaint old houses in the town--timbered structures with bold
bow-windows--and not a few of them of great age. Roger de Montgomery is
credited with founding Wenlock Abbey at the time of the Norman Conquest.
The site was previously occupied by a nunnery, said to have been the
burial-place of St. Milburgh, who was the granddaughter of King Penda of
Mercia. This was a famous religious house in its day, and it makes a
picturesque ruin, while the beauty of the neighboring scenery shows how
careful the recluses and religious men of old were to cast their lots
and build their abbeys in pleasant places.

[Illustration: WENLOCK.]


[Illustration: LUDLOW CASTLE.]

The most important of all the castles in the middle marches of Wales was
Ludlow, whose grand ruins, mouldered into beauty, stand upon the river
Tame, near the western border of Shropshire. It was here that the lord
president of the Council of Wales held his court. Its ruins, though
abandoned, have not fallen into complete decay, so that it gives a fine
representation of the ancient feudal border stronghold: it is of great
size, with long stretches of walls and towers, interspersed with thick
masses of foliage and stately trees, while beneath is the dark rock on
which it is founded. It was built shortly after the Conquest by Roger de
Montgomery, and after being held by the Norman Earls of Shrewsbury it
was fortified by Henry I.: then Joyce de Dinan held it, and confined
Hugh de Mortimer as prisoner in one of the towers, still known as
Mortimer's Tower. Edward IV. established it as the place of residence
for the lord president of the Council that governed Wales: here the
youthful King Edward V. was proclaimed, soon to mysteriously disappear.
From Ludlow Castle, Wales was governed for more than three centuries,
and in Queen Elizabeth's time many important additions were made to it.
The young Philip Sidney lived here, his father being the lord president;
the stone bridge, replacing the drawbridge, and the great portal were
built at that time. In 1634, Milton's "Masque of Comus" was represented
here while Earl Bridgewater was lord president, one of the scenes being
the castle and town of Ludlow: this representation was part of the
festivities attending the earl's installation on Michaelmas Night. It
was in Ludlow Castle that Butler wrote part of _Hudibras_. The castle
was held for King Charles, but was delivered up to the Parliamentary
forces in 1646. The present exterior of the castle denotes its former
magnificence. The foundations are built into a dark gray rock, and the
castle rises from the point of a headland, the northern front consisting
of square towers with high, connecting embattled walls. In the last
century trees were planted on the rock and in the deep and wide ditch
that guarded the castle. The chief entrance is by a gateway under a low,
pointed arch which bears the arms of Queen Elizabeth and of Earl
Pembroke. There are several acres enclosed, and the keep is an immense
square tower of the Early Norman, one hundred and ten feet high and
ivy-mantled to the top. On its ground floor is the dungeon, half
underground, with square openings in the floor connecting with the
apartment above. The great hall is now without roof or floor, and a
tower at the west end is called Prince Arthur's Tower, while there are
also remains of the old chapel. The ruins have an imposing aspect, the
towers being richly clustered around the keep. This famous castle is now
the property of Earl Powis.


The town of Ludlow adjoins the castle, and on approaching it the visitor
is struck by the fine appearance of the tower of the church of St.
Lawrence. The church is said to be the finest in Shropshire, and this
tower was built in the time of Edward IV. Its chantry is six hundred
years old, and belonged to the Palmers' guild. Their ordinances are
still preserved, one of which is to the effect that "if any man wishes,
as is the custom, to keep night-watches with the dead, this may be
allowed, provided that he does not call up ghosts." The town is filled
with timber-ribbed, pargetted houses, one of the most striking of these
being the old Feathers Inn. The exterior is rich in various devices,
including the feathers of the Prince of Wales, adopted as the sign
perhaps in the days of Prince Arthur, when the inn was built. Many of
the rooms are panelled with carved oak and have quaintly moulded
ceilings. It is not often that the modern tourist has a chance to rest
under such a venerable roof, for it is still a comfortable hostelrie.
The ancient priory of Austin Friars was at Ludlow, but is obliterated.

In the neighborhood of Ludlow are many attractive spots. From the summit
of the Vignals, about four miles away, there is a superb view over the
hills of Wales to the south and west, and the land of Shropshire to the
northward. Looking towards Ludlow, immediately at the foot of the hill
is seen the wooded valley of Hay Park: it was here that the children of
the Earl of Bridgewater were lost, an event that gave Milton occasion to
write the "Masque of Comus," and locate its scenes at and in the
neighborhood of Ludlow. Richard's Castle is at the southern end of this
wood, but there is not much of the old ruin left in the deep dingle. At
Downton Castle the romantic walks in the gardens abound in an almost
endless variety of ferns. Staunton Lacey Church, containing Romanesque
work, and supposed to be older than the Conquest, is also near Ludlow.
But the grand old castle and its quaint and venerated Feathers Inn are
the great attractions before which all others pale. What an amazing tale
of revelry, pageant, and intrigue they could tell were only the old
walls endowed with voice!






We are told that in Central Staffordshire churches with spires are rare.
The region of the Trent abounds in low and simple rather than lofty
church-towers, but to this rule the cathedral city of Lichfield is an
exception, having five steeples, of which three beautiful spires--often
called the "Ladies of the Vale"--adorn the cathedral itself. The town
stands in a fertile and gently undulating district without ambitious
scenery, and the cathedral, which is three hundred and seventy-five feet
long and its spires two hundred and fifty-eight feet high, is its great
and almost only glory. It is an ancient place, dating from the days of
the Romans and the Saxons, when the former slaughtered without mercy a
band of the early Christian martyrs near the present site of the town,
whence it derives its name, meaning the "Field of the Dead." This
massacre took place in the fourth century, and in memory of it the city
bears as its arms "an escutcheon of landscape, with many martyrs in it
in several ways massacred." In the seventh century a church was built
there, and the hermit St. Chad became its bishop. His cell was near the
present site of Stowe, where there was a spring of clear water rising in
the heart of a forest, and out of the woods there daily came a
snow-white doe to supply him with milk. The legend tells that the
nightingales singing in the trees distracted the hermit's prayers, so he
besought that he might be relieved from this trial; and since that time
the nightingales in the woods of Stowe have remained mute. After death
the hermit-bishop was canonized and Lichfield flourished, at least one
of his successors being an archbishop. St. Chad's Well is still pointed
out at Stowe, but his Lichfield church long ago disappeared. A Norman
church succeeded it in the eleventh century, and has also been removed,
though some of its foundations remain under the present cathedral choir.
About the year 1200 the first parts of the present cathedral were built,
and it was over a hundred years in building. Its architecture is Early
English and Decorated, the distinguishing features being the three
spires, the beautiful western front, and the Lady Chapel. The latter
terminates in a polygonal apse of unique arrangement, and the red
sandstone of which the cathedral is built gives a warm and effective
coloring. Some of the ancient bishops of Lichfield were fighting men,
and at times their cathedral was made into a castle surrounded by walls
and a moat, and occasionally besieged. The Puritans grievously battered
it, and knocked down the central spire. The cathedral was afterwards
rebuilt by Christopher Wren, and the work of restoration is at present
going on. As all the old stained glass was knocked out of the windows
during the Civil Wars, several of them have been refilled with fine
glass from the abbey at Liège. Most of the ancient monuments were also
destroyed during the sieges, but many fine tombs of more modern
construction replace them, among them being the famous tomb by Chantrey
of the "Sleeping Children." The ancient chroniclers tell bad stories of
the treatment this famous church received during the Civil Wars. When
the spire was knocked down, crushing the roof, a marksman in the church
shot Lord Brooke, the leader of the Parliamentary besiegers, through his
helmet, of which the visor was up, and he fell dead. The marksman was a
deaf and dumb man, and the event happened on St. Chad's Day, March 2d.
The loss of their leader redoubled the ardor of the besiegers; they set
a battery at work and forced a surrender in three days. Then we are told
that they demolished monuments, pulled down carvings, smashed the
windows, destroyed the records, set up guard-houses in the
cross-aisles, broke up the pavement, every day hunted a cat through the
church, so as to enjoy the echo from the vaulted roof, and baptized a
calf at the font. The Royalists, however, soon retook Lichfield, and
gave King Charles a reception after the battle of Naseby, but it finally
surrendered to Cromwell in 1646. Until the Restoration of Charles II.
the cathedral lay in ruins, even the lead having been removed from the
roof. In 1661, Bishop Hacket was consecrated, and for eight years he
steadily worked at rebuilding, having so far advanced in 1669 that the
cathedral was reconsecrated with great ceremony. His last work was to
order the bells, three of which were hung in time to toll at his
funeral; his tomb is in the south aisle of the choir.


Lichfield has five steeples grouped together in most views of the town
from the Vale of Trent, the other two steeples belonging to St. Mary's
and St. Michael's churches; the churchyard of the latter is probably the
largest in England, covering seven acres, through which an avenue of
stately elms leads up to the church. The town has not much else in the
way of buildings that is remarkable. In a plain house at a corner of the
market-place, where lived one Michael Johnson, a bookseller, Dr. Samuel
Johnson, his son, was born in 1709. and in the adjacent market-place is
Dr. Johnson's statue upon a pedestal adorned with bas-reliefs: one of
these represents the "infant Samuel" sitting on his father's shoulder to
imbibe Tory principles from Dr. Sacheverel's sermons: another, the boy
carried by his schoolfellows: and a third displays him undergoing a
penance for youthful disobedience by standing up for an hour bareheaded
in the rain. The "Three Crowns Inn" is also in the market-place, where
in 1776 Boswell and Johnson stayed, and, as Boswell writes, "had a
comfortable supper and got into high spirits," when Johnson "expatiated
in praise of Lichfield and its inhabitants, who, he said, were the most
sober, decent people in England, were the genteelest in proportion to
their wealth, and spoke the purest English." David Garrick went to
school to Dr. Johnson in the suburbs of Lichfield, at Edial; Addison
lived once at Lichfield; and Selwyn was its bishop a few years ago, and
is buried in the Cathedral close; but the chief memories of the ancient
town cluster around St. Chad, Johnson, and Garrick.


The "three spires" which have so much to do with the fame of Lichfield
are reproduced in the less pretentious but equally famous town of
Coventry, not far away in Warwickshire, but they do not all belong to
the same church. The Coventry Cathedral was long ago swept away, but the
town still has three churches of much interest, and is rich in the old
brick-and-timbered architecture of two and three centuries ago. But the
boast of Coventry is Lady Godiva, wife of the Earl of Mercia, who died
in 1057. The townsfolk suffered under heavy taxes and services, and she
besought her lord to relieve them. After steady refusals he finally
consented, but under a condition which he was sure Lady Godiva would not
accept, which was none other than that she should ride naked from one
end of the town to the other. To his astonishment she consented, and, as
Dugdale informs us, "The noble lady upon an appointed day got on
horseback naked, with her hair loose, so that it covered all her body
but the legs, and then performing her journey, she returned with joy to
her husband, who thereupon granted the inhabitants a charter of
freedom." The inhabitants deserted the streets and barred all the
windows, so that no one could see her, but, as there are exceptions to
all rules, Tennyson writes that

  "One low churl, composed of thankless earth,
  The fatal byword of all years to come,
  Boring a little auger-hole, in fear
  Peeped; but his eyes, before they had their will,
  Were shrivelled into darkness in his head,
  And drop: before him. So the Powers who wait
  On noble deeds cancelled a sense misused;
  And she, that knew not, passed."

Thus has "Peeping Tom of Coventry" passed into a byword, and his statue
stands in a niche on the front of a house on the High Street, as if
leaning out of a window--an ancient and battered effigy for all the
world to see. Like all other things that come down to us by tradition,
this legend is doubted, but in Coventry there are sincere believers, and
"Lady Godiva's Procession" used to be an annual display, closing with a
fair: this ceremony was opened by religious services, after which the
procession started, the troops and city authorities, with music and
banners, escorting Lady Godiva, a woman made up for the occasion in
gauzy tights and riding a cream-colored horse; representatives of the
trades and civic societies followed her. This pageant has fallen into

[Illustration: COVENTRY GATEWAY.]

In this ancient city of Coventry there are some interesting memorials of
the past--the venerable gateway, the old St. Mary's Hall, with its
protruding gable fronting on the street, coming down to us from the
fourteenth century, and many other quaint brick and half-timbered and
strongly-constructed houses that link the dim past with the active
present. Its three spires surmount St. Michael's, Trinity, and Christ
churches, and while all are fine, the first is the best, being regarded
as one of the most beautiful spires in England. The ancient stone pulpit
of Trinity Church, constructed in the form of a balcony of open
stone-work, is also much admired. St. Michael's Church, which dates from
the fourteenth century, is large enough to be a cathedral, and its
steeple is said to have been the first constructed. This beautiful and
remarkably slender spire rises three hundred and three feet, its lowest
stage being an octagonal lantern supported by flying buttresses. The
supporting tower has been elaborately decorated, but much of the
sculpture has fallen into decay, being made of the rich but friable red
sandstone of this part of the country; the interior of the church has
recently been restored. The Coventry workhouse is located in an old
monastery, where a part of the cloisters remain, with the dormitory
above; in it is an oriel window where Queen Elizabeth on visiting the
town is reputed to have stood and answered a reception address in rhyme
from the "Men of Coventrie" with some doggerel of equal merit, and
concluding with the words, "Good Lord, what fools ye be!" The good Queen
Bess, we are told, liked to visit Coventry to see bull-baiting. As we
have said, Coventry formerly had a cathedral and a castle, but both have
been swept away; it was an important stronghold after the Norman
Conquest, when the Earls of Chester were lords of the place. In the
fourteenth century it was fortified with walls of great height and
thickness, three miles in circuit and strengthened by thirty-two towers,
each of the twelve gates being defended by a portcullis. A parliament
was held at Coventry by Henry VI., and Henry VII. was heartily welcomed
there after Bosworth Field; while the town was also a favorite residence
of Edward the Black Prince. Among the many places of captivity for Mary
Queen of Scots Coventry also figures; the walls were mostly knocked down
during the Civil Wars, and now only some fragments, with one of the old
gates, remain. In later years it has been chiefly celebrated in the
peaceful arts in the manufacture of silks and ribbons and the dyeing of
broad-cloth in "Coventry true blue;" at present it is the "Coventry
bicycle" that makes Lady Godiva's ancient city famous, and provides
amusement for youth who are able to balance their bodies possibly at the
expense of their minds.

[Illustration: COVENTRY.]


In describing the ancient baronial mansion, Haddon Hall, it was
mentioned that the Dukes of Rutland had abandoned it as their residence
about a hundred years ago and gone to Belvoir in Leicestershire. Belvoir
(pronounced Beever) Castle stands on the eastern border of
Leicestershire, in a magnificent situation on a high wooded hill, and
gets its name from the beautiful view its occupants enjoy over a wide
expanse of country. In ancient times it was a priory, and it has been a
castle since the Norman Conquest. Many of the large estates attached to
Belvoir have come down by uninterrupted succession from that time to the
present Duke of Rutland. The castle itself, however, after the Conquest
belonged to the Earl of Chester, and afterwards to the family of Lord
Ros. In the sixteenth century, by a fortunate marriage, the castle
passed into the Manners family. Thomas Manners was created by Henry
VIII. the first Earl of Rutland, and he restored the castle, which had
for some time been in ruins. His son enlarged it, making a noble
residence. The sixth Earl of Rutland had two sons, we are told, who were
murdered by witchcraft at Belvoir through the sorcery of three female
servants in revenge for their dismissal. The three "witches" were tried
and committed to Lincoln jail. They were a mother and two daughters, and
the mother before going to the jail wished the bread and butter she ate
might choke her if guilty. Sure enough, the chronicler tells us, she
died on the way to jail, and the two daughters, afterwards confessing
their guilt, were executed March 11, 1618. The seventh Earl of Rutland
received Charles I. at Belvoir, and in the wars that followed the castle
was besieged and ruined. After the Restoration it was rebuilt, and in
finer style. The Dukes of Rutland began to adapt it more and more as a
family residence, and, after abandoning Haddon Hall, Belvoir was greatly
altered and made a princely mansion. It consists of a quadrangular
court, around which are castellated buildings, with towers surmounting
them, and occupying almost the entire summit of the hill. Here the duke
can look out over no less than twenty-two of his manors in the
neighboring valleys. The interior is sumptuously furnished, and has a
collection of valuable paintings. A large part of the ancient castle was
burnt in 1816. The Staunton Tower, however, still exists. It is the
stronghold of the castle, and was successfully defended by Lord Staunton
against William of Normandy. Upon every royal visit the key of this
tower is presented to the sovereign, the last occasion being a visit of
Queen Victoria. Belvoir, in the generous hands of the Dukes of Rutland,
still maintains the princely hospitality of the "King of the Peak." A
record kept of a recent period of thirteen weeks, from Christmas to
Easter, shows that two thousand persons dined at the duke's table, two
thousand four hundred and twenty-one in the steward's room, and eleven
thousand three hundred and twelve in the servants' hall. They were
blessed with good appetites too, for they devoured about $7000 worth of
provisions, including eight thousand three hundred and thirty-three
loaves of bread and twenty-two thousand nine hundred and sixty-three
pounds of meat, exclusive of game, besides drinking two thousand four
hundred bottles of wine and seventy hogsheads of ale. Thus does Belvoir
maintain the inheritance of hospitable obligation descended from Haddon



We have now come into Leicestershire, and in that county, north of
Leicester City, is the outcropping of the earth's rocky backbone, which
has been thrust up into high wooded hills along the edge of the valley
of the Soar for several miles, and is known as Charnwood Forest. It
hardly deserves the name of a forest, however, for most of this strange
rocky region is bare of trees, and many of the patches of wood that are
there are of recent growth. Yet in ancient years there was plenty of
wood, and a tradition comes down to us that in Charnwood once upon a
time a squirrel could travel six miles on the trees without touching the
ground, and a traveller journey entirely across the forest without
seeing the sun. The district consists of two lines of irregular ridgy
hills, rising three hundred to four hundred feet above the neighboring
country. These ridges are separated by a sort of valley like a Norwegian
fjord, tilled with red marl. The rocks are generally volcanic products,
with much slate, which is extensively quarried. Granite and sienite are
also quarried, and at the chief granite-quarry--Mount Sorrel, an
eminence which projects into the valley of the Soar--was in former times
the castle of Hugh Lupus, Earl of Chester. In King John's reign the
garrison of this castle so harassed the neighborhood that it was
described as the "nest of the devil and a den of thieves." In Henry
III.'s reign it was captured and demolished; the latter fate is
gradually befalling the hill on which it stood, under the operations of
the quarrymen. Near these quarries is the ancient village of Groby,
which was quite a flourishing place eight hundred years ago, and has not
grown much since. This village belonged to the Ferrars family, and an
heiress of that family was the unfortunate Queen Elizabeth Widvile.
About two miles away is Bradgate, a spot of rare beauty and interest,
the history of which is closely connected with Groby. On the end of one
of the ridges of Charnwood, just where it is sinking down to the level
of the surrounding country, stands Bradgate House. The surrounding park
is quite wild and bare, but there are fine old oaks in the lower
portions. From the ancient house a beautiful dell, called the Happy
Valley, leads to the neighboring village of Newtown Linford. Bradgate
House was destroyed in the early part of the last century by its
mistress. The Earl of Suffolk, who then owned it, brought his wife, who
had no taste for a rural life, from the metropolis to live there. Her
sister in London wrote to inquire how she was getting on. She answered,
"The house is tolerable, the country a forest, and the inhabitants all
brutes." In reply the sister advised, "Set the house on fire, and run
away by the light of it." The countess took the advice, and Bradgate
never was rebuilt.



Charnwood Forest, like almost every other place in England, contains the
remains of religious houses. There was a priory at Ulverscroft, not far
from Bradgate, and some picturesque moss-grown remains still exist, said
to be the finest ruin in Leicestershire. Grace Dieu Abbey was also in
the forest, and on the dissolution of the monasteries was granted to the
Beaumonts; the ruins of this abbey were much frequented by Wordsworth,
who dedicated his poems to their owner. The Cistercians have in the
present century established the monastery of Mont St. Bernard in the
forest, and brought large tracts under cultivation as garden-land.
Bardon, the highest hill of Charnwood, which is near by, rises nine
hundred feet, an obtuse-angled triangular summit that can be seen for
miles away: not far from the forest are several famous places. The
abandoned castle of Ashby de la Zouche has been made the site of an
interesting town, deriving much prosperity from its neighboring
coal-mines: this castle was built by Lord Hastings, and here dwelt
Ivanhoe. The ruins of the tower, chapel, and great hall are objects of
much interest, and in the chapel is the "finger pillory" for the
punishment of those who were disorderly in church. Staunton Harold, the
seat of Earl Ferrars, is north of the town, while about nine miles to
the north-east of Ashby is Donington Hall, the palace of the Marquis of
Hastings: this estate is connected with Langley Priory, three miles
southward; the latter domain belonged to the Cheslyns fifty years ago,
and had an income of $40,000 a year. Between lavish hospitality and
ruinous lawsuits the entire property was eaten up, and Richard Cheslyn
became practically a pauper; but he bore ill-fortune with good grace,
and maintained his genial character to the last, being always well
received at all the noble houses where he formerly visited. Sir Bernard
Burke writes that Cheslyn "at dinner-parties, at which every portion of
his dress was the cast-off clothes of his grander friends, always looked
and was the gentleman; he made no secret of his poverty or of the
generous hands that had 'rigged him out.' 'This coat,' he has been heard
to say, 'was Radcliffe's; these pants, Granby's; this waistcoat,
Scarborough's.' His cheerfulness never forsook him; he was the victim of
others' mismanagement and profusion, not of his own." John Shakespear,
the famous linguist, whose talents were discovered by Lord Moira, who
had him educated, was a cowherd on the Langley estate. The poor cowherd
afterwards bought the estates for $700,000, and they were his home
through life.



Charnwood Forest is also associated in history with two unfortunate
women. Elizabeth Widvile was the wife of Sir John Grey of Groby, who
lost his life and estate in serving the House of Lancaster, leaving
Elizabeth with two sons; for their sake she sought an interview with
King Edward IV. to ask him to show them favor. Smitten by her charms,
Edward made her his queen, but he was soon driven into exile in France,
and afterwards died, while her father and brother perished in a popular
tumult. Her daughter married King Henry VII., a jealous son-in-law, who
confined Elizabeth in the monastery of Bermondsey, where she died.
Bradgate passed into the hands of her elder son by Sir John Grey of
Groby, and his grandson was the father of the second queen to which it
gave birth, whose name is better known than that of Elizabeth
Widvile--the unfortunate "ten-days' queen," Lady Jane Grey. She lived
the greater part of her short life at Bradgate, in the house whose ruins
still stand to preserve her memory. We are told by the quaint historian
Fuller that "she had the innocency of childhood, the beauty of youth,
the solidity of middle, the gravity of old age, and all at eighteen--the
birth of a princess, the learning of a clerk, the life of a saint, and
the death of a malefactor for her parents' offences." These parents
worried her into accepting the crown--they played for high stakes and
lost--and her father and father-in-law, her husband and herself, all
perished on the scaffold. We are told that this unfortunate lady still
haunts Bradgate House, and on the last night of the dying year a phantom
carriage, drawn by four gray horses, glides around the ruins with her
headless body. The old oaks have a gnarled and stunted appearance,
tradition ascribing it to the woodsmen having lopped off all the leading
shoots when their mistress perished. The remains of the house at present
are principally the broken shells of two towers, with portions of the
enclosing walls, partly covered with ivy.


[Illustration: LEICESTER ABBEY.]

The city of Leicester, which is now chiefly noted for the manufacture of
hosiery, was founded by the Britons, and was subsequently the Roman city
of Ratæ. Many Roman remains still exist here, notably the ancient Jewry
wall, which is seventy-five feet long and five feet high, and which
formed part of the town-wall. Many old houses are found in Leicester,
and just north of the city are the ruins of Leicester Abbey, This noted
religious house was founded in the twelfth century, and stood on a
meadow watered by the river Soar. It was richly endowed, and was
dedicated to the Virgin Mary, but its chief fame comes from its being
the last residence of Cardinal Wolsey. This great man, once the primate
of England, has had his downfall pathetically described by Shakespeare.
The king summoned him to London to stand trial for treason, and on his
way Wolsey became so ill that he was obliged to rest at Leicester, where
he was met at the abbey-gate by the abbot and entire convent. Aware of
his approaching dissolution, the fallen cardinal said, "Father abbot, I
have come hither to lay my bones among you." The next day he died, and
to the surrounding monks, as the last sacrament was administered, he
said, "If I had served God as diligently as I have done the king, He
would not have given me over in my gray hairs." The remains were
interred by torchlight before daybreak on St. Andrew's Day, 1530, and to
show the vanity of all things earthly tradition says that after the
destruction of the abbey the stone coffin in which they were buried was
used as a horse-trough for a neighboring inn. Nothing remains of the
abbey as Wolsey saw it excepting the gate in the east wall through which
he entered. The present ruins are fragments of a house built afterwards.
The foundations that can still be traced show that it was a grand old
building. The gardens and park now raise vegetables for the Leicester


Leicester Castle still exists only in a portion of the great hall, but
it has been enlarged and modernized, and is now used for the county
offices. The castle was built after the Norman Conquest to keep the
townspeople in check. It was afterwards a stronghold of Simon de
Montfort, Earl of Leicester, and it then became part of the Duchy of
Lancaster. The Dukes of Lancaster restored it, and lived there
frequently in great pomp, and they also built the adjoining Hospital of
the Newarke and a singular earthwork alongside, called the Mount.
Several parliaments were held here, but after the time of Edward IV. the
castle fell into decay. There are now few remains of the original
castle, excepting part of the great hall and the Mount or earthwork of
the keep, which is about thirty feet high and one hundred feet in
diameter upon its flat, circular top. Not far from Leicester was fought
the last great battle of the "Wars of the Roses," Bosworth Field, upon
Redmoor Plain, about two miles from the village now known as Market
Bosworth. It was a moor at the time of the battle in 1485, overgrown
with thistles and scutch-grass. Shakespeare has been the most popular
historian of this battle, and the well where Richard slaked his thirst
is still pointed out, with other localities of the scenes of the famous
contest that decided the kingship of England, Richard III. giving place
to Richmond, who became Henry VII.


[Illustration: EDGEHILL.]

While we are considering this locality two other famous battlefields not
far away, that together were decisive of the fate of England, must not
be overlooked. These were Edgehill and Naseby, the opening and closing
contests of the Civil War that overthrew Charles I., the scene of one
being visible from the other, though the intervening contest spread
almost all over the island. The high ground that borders Warwickshire
and Northamptonshire has various roads crossing it, and the opposing
forces meeting on these highlands made them the scenes of the
battles--practical repetitions of many hot contests there in earlier
years. The command of the Parliamentary army had been given to the Earl
of Essex, and he and all his officers were proclaimed traitors by the
king. Charles I. assembled an army at Nottingham in 1642 to chastise
them, and it was considered an evil omen that when the royal standard
was set up on the evening of the day of assemblage, a gale arose and it
was blown down. Charles moved west from Nottingham to Shrewsbury to meet
reinforcements from Wales, and then his army numbered eighteen thousand
men. Essex was at Northampton, and moved southward to Worcester. Charles
desired to march to London to break up the Parliament, but to do this
must either defeat or outflank Essex. He chose the latter plan, moved to
Kenilworth, but could not enter Coventry, because Lord Brooke, who was
afterwards killed at Lichfield, held it for the Parliament. Essex left
Worcester, and pressed the king by forced marches, but Charles turned
his flank and started for London with Essex in pursuit. In October he
reached Edgecot, near the field at Edgehill, and there in the open
country he was astonished to find a gentleman amusing himself with a
pack of hounds. He asked who it was who could hunt so merrily while his
sovereign was about to fight for his crown. Mr. Richard Shuckburgh was
accordingly introduced, and the king persuaded him to take home his
hounds and raise his tenantry. The next day he joined Charles with a
troop of horse, and was knighted on the field of Edgehill.

Charles slept in the old house at Edgecot: the house has been superseded
by a newer one, in which is preserved the bed in which the king rested
on the night of October 22, 1642. At three o'clock next morning, Sunday,
he was aroused by a messenger from Prince Rupert, whose cavalry guarded
the rear, saying that Essex was at hand, and the king could fight at
once if he wished. He immediately ordered the march to Edgehill, a
magnificent situation for an army to occupy, for here the broken country
of the Border sinks suddenly down upon the level plain of Central
England. Essex's camp-fires on that plain the previous night had
betrayed his army to Prince Rupert, while Rupert's horsemen, appearing
upon the brow of the hill, told Essex next morning that the king was at
hand. Edgehill is a long ridge extending almost north and south, with
another ridge jutting out at right angles into the plain in front: thus
the Parliamentary troops were on low ground, bounded in front and on
their left by steep hills. On the southern side of Edgehill there had
been cut out of the red iron-stained rock of a projecting cliff a huge
red horse, as a memorial of the great Earl of Warwick, who before a
previous battle had killed his horse and vowed to share the perils of
the meanest of his soldiers. Both sides determined to give battle; the
Puritan ministers passed along the ranks exhorting the men to do their
duty, and they afterwards referred to the figure as the "Red Horse of
the wrath of the Lord which did ride about furiously to the ruin of the
enemy." Charles disposed his army along the brow of the hill, and could
overlook his foes, stretched out on the plain, as if on a map, with the
village of Kineton behind them. Essex had twelve thousand men on a
little piece of rising ground known afterwards as the "Two Battle
Farms," Battledon and Thistledon. The king was superior both in numbers
and position, with Prince Rupert and his cavalry on the right wing; Sir
Edmund Verney bore the king's standard in the centre, where his tent was
pitched, and Lord Lindsey commanded; under him was General Sir Jacob
Astley, whose prayer before the battle is famous: "O Lord, thou knowest
how busy I must be this day; if I forget thee, do not thou forget
me.--March on, boys!" The king rode along in front of his troops in the
stately figure that is familiar in Vandyke's paintings--full armor, with
the ribbon of the Garter across his breastplate and its star on his
black velvet mantle--and made a brief speech of exhortation. The young
princes Charles and James, his sons, both of them afterwards kings of
England, were present at Edgehill, while the philosopher Hervey, who
discovered the circulation of the blood, was also in attendance, and we
are told was found in the heat of the battle sitting snugly under a
hedge reading a copy of Virgil.

[Illustration: MILL AT EDGEHILL.]

The battle did not begin till afternoon, and the mistake the king made
was in not waiting for the attack in his strong position on the brow of
the hill; but his men were impatient and in high spirits, and he
permitted them to push forward, meeting the attack halfway. Rupert's
cavalry upon encountering the Parliamentary left wing were aided by the
desertion of part of the latter's forces, which threw them into
confusion; the wing broke and fled before the troopers, who drove them
with great slaughter into the village of Kineton, and then fell to
plundering Essex's baggage-train. This caused a delay which enabled the
Parliamentary reserves to come up, and they drove Rupert back in
confusion; and when he reached the royal lines he found them in
disorder, with Sir Edmund Verney killed and the royal standard captured.
Lord Lindsey wounded and captured, and the king in personal danger: but
darkness came, and enabled the king to hold his ground, and each side
claimed a victory. The royal standard was brought back by a courageous
Cavalier, who put on a Parliamentary orange-colored scarf, rode into the
enemy's lines, and persuaded the man who had it to let him carry it. For
this bold act he was knighted by the king on the spot and given a gold
medal. There were about fourteen hundred killed in the battle, and
buried between the two farm-houses of Battledon and Thistledon, at a
place now called the Graveyards. Lord Lindsey died on his way to Warwick
with his captors. Cromwell was not personally engaged at Edgehill,
although there as a captain of cavalry. Carlyle says that after watching
the fight he told Hampden they never would get on with a "set of poor
tapsters and town-apprentice people fighting against men of honor; to
cope with men of honor they must have men of religion." Hampden
answered, "It was a good notion if it could be executed;" and Cromwell
"set about executing a bit of it, his share of it, by and by."



The last great contest of the Civil War, at which the fate of King
Charles was really decided, was fought nearly three years afterwards,
June 14, 1645, and but a few miles north-east of Edgehill, at Naseby,
standing on a high plateau elevated nearly seven hundred feet. The
Parliamentary forces had during the interval become by far the stronger,
and were engaged in besieging Chester. The king and Prince Rupert in May
left Oxford with their forces, and marched northward, hoping to raise
this siege. The king had gone as far north as Leicester, when, hearing
that Lord Fairfax had come from the borders of Wales and besieged
Oxford, he turned about to relieve it. His army was about ten thousand
strong, and, having reached Daventry in June, halted, while Fairfax,
leaving Oxford, marched northward to meet the king, being five miles
east of him on June 12. Being weaker than Fairfax, the king determined
on retreat, and the movement was started towards Market Harborough, just
north of Naseby. The king, a local tradition says, while sleeping at
Daventry was warned, by the apparition of Lord Strafford in a dream, not
to measure his strength with the Parliamentary army. A second night the
apparition came, assuring him that "if he kept his resolution of
fighting he was undone;" and it is added that the king was often
afterwards heard to say he wished he had taken the warning and not
fought at Naseby. Fairfax, however, was resolved to force a battle, and
pursued the king's retreating army. On June 13th he sent Harrison and
Ireton with cavalry to attack its rear. That night the king's van and
main body were at Market Harborough, and his rear-guard of horse at
Naseby, three miles southward. Ireton about midnight surprised and
captured most of the rear-guard, but a few, escaping, reached the king,
and roused him at two in the morning. Fairfax was coming up, and reached
Naseby at five in the morning. The king held a council of war in the
"King's Head Inn" at Market Harborough, and determined to face about
and give battle. The forces met on Broad Moor, just north of Naseby
village. Prince Rupert had command of the royal troops, and Sir Jacob
Astley was in command of the infantry. The king rode along the lines,
inspiriting the men with a speech, to which they gave a response of
ringing cheers. Cromwell commanded the right wing of Fairfax's line,
while Ireton led the left, which was opposed by Rupert's cavalry. The
advance was made by Fairfax, and the sequel proved that the
Parliamentary forces had improved their tactics. Rupert's troopers, as
usual, broke down the wing opposing them, and then went to plundering
the baggage-wagons in the rear. But fortune inclined the other way
elsewhere. Cromwell on the right routed the royal left wing, and after
an hour's hot struggle the royal centre was completely broken up.
Fairfax captured the royal standard, and the king with his reserve of
horse made a gallant attempt to recover the day. But it was of no use.
Fairfax formed a second line of battle, and the king's wiser friends,
seizing his horse's bridle, turned him about, telling him his charge
would lead to certain destruction. Then a panic came, and the whole body
of Royalists fled, with Fairfax's cavalry in pursuit. Cromwell and his
"Ironsides" chased the fugitives almost to Leicester, and many were
slaughtered. The king never halted till he got to Ashby de la Zouche,
twenty-eight miles from the battlefield, and he then went on to
Lichfield. There were one thousand Royalists killed and four thousand
five hundred captured, with almost all the baggage, among it being the
king's correspondence, which by disclosing his plans did almost equal
harm with the defeat. The prisoners were sent to London. A monument has
since been erected on the battlefield, with an inscription describing
the contest as "a useful lesson to British kings never to exceed the
bounds of their just prerogative; and to British subjects, never to
swerve from the allegiance due to their legitimate monarch." This is
certainly an oracular utterance, and of its injunctions the reader can
take his choice.


[Illustration: SHAKESPEARE'S HOUSE.]

Close to the village of Naseby rises the Avon, some of its springs being
actually within the village, where their waters are caught in little
ponds for watering cattle. The slender stream of Shakespeare's river
flows downward from the plateau through green meadows, and thence to the
classic ground of Stratford and of Warwick. It was at Stratford-on-Avon
that Shakespeare was born and died;

  "Here his first infant lays sweet Shakespeare sung,
  Here the last accents faltered on his tongue."


The old house where he was born is on the main street of the town, and
has been taken possession of by a Trust which has restored it to its
original condition. Its walls are covered with the initials of visitors;
there is nothing to be seen in the house that has any proved connection
with Shakespeare excepting his portrait, painted when he was about
forty-five years old. The sign of the butcher who had the building
before the Trust bought it is also exhibited, and states that "The
immortal Shakespeare was born in this house." His birth took place in
this ancient but carefully preserved building on April 23, 1564, and
exactly fifty-two years later, on April 23, 1616, he died in another
house near by, known as the "New Place," on Chapel Street. Excepting the
garden and a portion of the ancient foundations nothing now remains of
the house where Shakespeare died; a green arbor in the yard, with the
initials of his name set in the front fence, being all that marks the
spot. Adjoining the remnants of this "New Place" is the "Nash House,"
where the curator representing the Shakespeare Trust has his home. This
building is also indirectly connected with Shakespeare, having belonged
to and been occupied by Thomas Nash, who married Elizabeth Hall, the
poet's granddaughter, who subsequently became Lady Barnard. The church
of the Holy Trinity at Stratford contains Shakespeare's grave; five flat
stones lying in a row across the narrow chancel cover his family, the
grave of Anne Hathaway, his wife, being next to that of the poet; his
monument is on the wall, and near it is the American memorial window,
representing the Seven Ages of Man. In the chancel upon the western
side, within a Grecian niche, is the well-known half-figure monument of
Shakespeare that has been so widely copied, representing him in the act
of composition. The most imposing building in Stratford is the
"Shakespeare Memorial," a large and highly ornamental structure,
thoroughly emblematic, and containing a theatre. Stratford is full of
relics of Shakespeare and statues and portraits in his memory. There is
a life-size statue of the poet outside the Town-Hall which was presented
to the city by Garrick in the last century, while within the building is
his full-length portrait, also a present from Garrick, together with
Gainsborough's portrait of Garrick himself. At the modest hamlet of
Shottery, about a mile out of town, is the little cottage where Anne
Hathaway lived, and where the poet is said to have "won her to his
love;" a curious bedstead and other relics are shown at the cottage.
Charlecote House, the scene of Shakespeare's youthful deer-stealing
adventure that compelled him to go to London, is about four miles east
of Stratford, near the Avon: it is an ancient mansion of the Elizabethan
period. In the neighborhood are also a mineral spring known as the Royal
Victoria Spa and some ancient British intrenchments called the Dingles.


[Illustration: WARWICK CASTLE.]

The renowned castle of Warwick is upon the Avon, a short distance above
Stratford. Warwick was founded by the Britons at a very early period,
and is believed to be as old in some parts as the Christian era; it was
afterwards held as a Christian stronghold against the Danes. Lady
Ethelfleda, daughter of King Alfred, built the donjon-keep upon an
artificial mound of earth that can still be traced in the castle
grounds. The most ancient part of the present castle was erected in the
reign of Edward the Confessor, and in William the Conqueror's time it
received considerable additions, and he created the first Earl of
Warwick. It was a great stronghold in the subsequent wars, and an
heiress brought the castle to Richard Neville, who assumed the title in
right of his wife, and was the famous Warwick, "the King-maker." After
many changes it came to the Grevilles, who are now the Earls of Warwick.
This castle is one of the best specimens of the feudal stronghold
remaining in England, and occupies a lovely position on the river-bank,
being built on a rock about forty feet high; its modern apartments
contain a rich museum filled with almost priceless relics of the olden
time. Here are also valuable paintings and other works of art, among
them Vandyck's portrait of Charles I. and many masterpieces of
Rembrandt, Paul Veronese, Leonardo da Vinci, Rubens, Holbein, and
Salvator Rosa. In December, 1871, the great hall and suite of private
apartments at Warwick were burnt, but the valuable contents were almost
all saved with little injury. The castle was restored by a public
subscription. It is built around a large oval-shaped court; the
gatehouse tower is flanked by embattled walls covered with ivy, and
having at either extremity Cæsar's Tower and Guy's Tower; the inner
court is bounded by ramparts and turrets, and has on one side an
artificial mound surmounted by an ancient tower. From the modernized
rooms of the castle, where the family live and the museum is located,
and which extend in a suite for three hundred and fifty feet, all the
windows look out upon beautiful views; many of these rooms are hung with
tapestry. Cæsar's Tower, believed to be the most ancient part of the
castle and as old as the Norman Conquest, is one hundred and
seventy-four feet high; Guy's Tower, which was built in 1394, has solid
walls ten feet thick and is one hundred and twenty-eight feet high,
disclosing fine views from the turrets. The grounds are extensive, and
the magnificent marble "Warwick Vase," brought from the Emperor Adrian's
villa at Tivoli in Italy, is kept in a special greenhouse, being one of
the most completely perfect and beautiful specimens of ancient sculpture
known. St. Mary's Church at Warwick is a fine building, which in the
early part of the last century replaced the original collegiate church
of St. Mary, an edifice that had unfortunately been burnt. Thomas
Beauchamp, one of the earlier Earls of Warwick, was the founder of this
church, and his monument with recumbent effigy is in the middle of the
choir. The Beauchamp Chapel, over four hundred years old, is a beautiful
relic of the original church still remaining, and stands on the southern
side of the new building. The whole of this portion of Warwickshire is
underlaid by medicinal waters, and the baths of Leamington are in the
valley of the little river Leam, a short distance north-east of the
castle, its Jephson Gardens, a lovely park, commemorating one of the
most benevolent patrons.

Warwick Castle, like all the others, has its romance, and this centres
in the famous giant, Guy of Warwick, who lived nearly a thousand years
ago, and was nine feet high. His staff and club and sword and armor are
exhibited in a room adjoining Cæsar's Tower; and here also is Guy's
famous porridge-pot, a huge bronze caldron holding over a hundred
gallons, which is used as a punch-bowl whenever there are rejoicings in
the castle. There is nothing fabulous about the arms or the
porridge-pot, but there is a good deal that is doubtful about the giant
Guy himself and the huge dun cow that once upon a time he slew, one of
whose ribs, measuring over six feet long, is shown at Guy's Cliff. This
cliff is where the redoubtable Guy retired as a hermit after championing
the cause of England in single combat against a giant champion of the
Danes, and is about a mile from Warwick. It is a picturesque spot, and a
chantry has been founded there, while for many years a rude statue of
the giant Guy stood on the cliff, where the chisel had cut it out of
the solid rock. The town of Warwick is full of old gabled houses and of
curious relics of the time of the "King-maker" and of the famous Earl of
Leicester, who in Elizabeth's time founded there the Leicester Hospital,
where especial preference is given to pensioners who have been wounded
in the wars. It is a fine old house, with its chapel, which has been
restored nearly in the old form, stretching over the pathway, and a
flight of steps leading up to the promenade around it. The hospital
buildings are constructed around an open quadrangle, and upon the quaint
black and white building are some fine antique carvings. The old
"Malt-Shovel Inn" is a rather decayed structure in Warwick, with its
ancient porch protruding over the street, while some of the buildings,
deranged in the lower stories by the acute angles at which the streets
cross, have oblique gables above stairs that enabled the builders to
construct the upper rooms square. This is a style of construction
peculiar to Warwick, and adds to the oddity of this somnolent old town,
that seems to have been practically asleep for centuries.




[Illustration: KENILWORTH CASTLE.]

About five miles from Warwick are the ruins of Kenilworth Castle, the
magnificent home of the Earl of Leicester, which Scott has immortalized.
Geoffrey de Clinton in the reign of Henry I. built a strong castle and
founded a monastery here. It was afterwards the castle of Simon de
Montfort, and his son was besieged in it for several months, ultimately
surrendering, when the king bestowed it on his youngest son, Edward,
Earl of Lancaster and Leicester. Edward II., when taken prisoner in
Wales, was brought to Kenilworth, and signed his abdication in the
castle, being afterwards murdered in Berkeley Castle. Then it came to
John of Gaunt, and in the Wars of the Roses was alternately held by the
partisans of each side. Finally, Queen Elizabeth bestowed it upon her
ambitious favorite, Dudley, Earl of Leicester, who made splendid
additions to the buildings. It was here that Leicester gave the
magnificent entertainment to Queen Elizabeth which was a series of
pageants lasting seventeen days, and cost $5000 a day--a very large sum
for those times. The queen was attended by thirty-one barons and a host
of retainers, and four hundred servants, who were all lodged in the
fortress. The attendants were clothed in velvet, and the party drank
sixteen hogsheads of wine and forty hogsheads of beer every day, while
to feed them ten oxen were killed every morning. There was a succession
of plays and amusements provided, including the Coventry play of "Hock
Tuesday" and the "Country Bridal," with bull-and bear-baiting, of which
the queen was very fond. Scott has given a gorgeous description of these
fêtes and of the great castle, and upon these and the tragic fate of Amy
Robsart has founded his romance of _Kenilworth_. The display and
hospitality of the Earl of Leicester were intended to pave the way to
marriage, but the wily queen was not to be thus entrapped. The castle is
now part of the Earl of Clarendon's estate, and he has taken great pains
to preserve the famous ruins. The great hall, ninety feet long, still
retains several of its Gothic windows, and some of the towers rise
seventy feet high. These ivy-mantled ruins stand upon an elevated rocky
site commanding a fine prospect, and their chief present use is as a
picnic-ground for tourists. Not far away are the ruins of the priory,
which was founded at the same time as the castle. A dismantled
gate-house with some rather extensive foundations are all that remain.
In a little church near by the matins and the curfew are still tolled,
one of the bells used having belonged to the priory. Few English ruins
have more romance attached to them than those of Kenilworth, for the
graphic pen of the best story-teller of Britain has interwoven them into
one of his best romances, and has thus given an idea of the splendors as
well as the dark deeds of the Elizabethan era that will exist as long as
the language endures.



Thus far we have mainly written of the rural and historical attractions
of Warwickshire, but its great city must not be passed by without
notice. The "Homestead of the Sons of Beorm" the Saxon, while rising
from small beginnings, has had a prodigiously rapid growth since the
coal, iron, and railways have so greatly swollen the wealth and
population of manufacturing England. It was at the time of the Conquest
the manor of Bermingeham, or, as the Midland English prefer to pronounce
it, "Brummagem." It was held for many years by a family of the same
name, and had an uneventful history till the townsfolk ranged themselves
on the side of Parliament in the Civil War, in revenge for which Prince
Rupert captured and pillaged Birmingham: it was then a market-town,
built mostly along one street, and noted for its smiths and cutlers, who
were kept busy in forging pikes and swords for the king's opponents. The
great growth of the city has been in the present century, when the
population has trebled, and now approaches four hundred thousand. The
main features of its history relate to trade and manufactures, otherwise
its annals are comparatively commonplace. There is little remaining of
the old town, almost all the structures being modern. St. Martin's
Church, replacing the original parish church, or "Mother Church," as it
is called, is a fine modern structure, and contains some interesting
monuments of the Bermingeham family. There are several other attractive
churches, including the Unitarian church of the Messiah, which is
supported on massive arches, for it is built over a canal on which are
several locks: this has given cause for a favorite Birmingham witticism:

  "St. Peters world-wide diocese
  Rests on the power of the keys;
  Our church, a trifle heterodox,
  We'll rest on a 'power of locks.'"

[Illustration: ASTON HALL.]


Birmingham has many fine public and private buildings and some
attractive streets, though much of the town is made up of narrow lanes
and dingy houses, with huge factories in every direction. There are
several small parks, the gifts of opulent residents, notably Aston Hall.
This was formerly the residence of the Holte family, and the fine old
mansion which still stands in the grounds was built by Sir Thomas Holte
in the reign of James I. Charles I. is said to have slept here for two
nights before the battle of Edgehill, for which offence the house was
cannonaded by the Puritans and its owners fined. The grounds, covering
about forty-two acres, are now a park, and a picturesque little church
has been built near the mansion. Some of the factories of this
metropolis of hardware are fine structures, but when their product is
spoken of, "Brummagem" is sometimes quoted as synonymous for showy sham.
Here they are said to make gods for the heathen and antiquities of the
Pharaoh age for Egypt, with all sorts of relics for all kinds of
battlefields. But Birmingham nevertheless has a reputation for more
solid wares. Its people are the true descendants of Tubal Cain, for one
of its historians attractively says that the Arab eats with a Birmingham
spoon; the Egyptian takes his bowl of sherbet from a Birmingham tray;
the American Indian shoots a Birmingham rifle; the Hindoo dines on
Birmingham plate and sees by the light of a Birmingham lamp; the South
American horsemen wear Birmingham spurs and gaudily deck their jackets
with Birmingham buttons; the West Indian cuts down the sugar-cane with
Birmingham hatchets and presses the juice into Birmingham vats and
coolers; the German lights his pipe on a Birmingham tinder-box; the
emigrant cooks his dinner in a Birmingham saucepan over a Birmingham
stove; and so on _ad infinitum_. A century ago this famous town was
known as the "toy-shop of Europe." Its glass-workers stand at the head
of their profession, and here are made the great lighthouse lenses and
the finest stained glass to be found in English windows. The Messrs.
Elkington, whose reputation is worldwide, here invented the process of
electro-plating. It is a great place for jewelry and the champion
emporium for buttons. It is also the great English workshop for swords,
guns, and other small-arms, and here are turned out by the million
Gillott's steel pens. Over all these industries presides the magnificent
Town Hall, a Grecian temple standing upon an arcade basement, and built
of hard limestone brought from the island of Anglesea. The interior is
chiefly a vast assembly-room, where concerts are given and political
meetings held, the latter usually being the more exciting, for we are
told that when party feeling runs high some of the Birmingham folk "are
a little too fond of preferring force to argument." But, although famed
for its Radical politics and the introduction of the "caucus" into
England, Birmingham will always be chiefly known by its manufactures,
and these will recall its illustrious inventors, Boulton and Watt. Their
factory was at Soho, just north of the town. Here Watt brought the
steam-engine to perfection, here gas was first used, plating was
perfected, and myriads of inventions were developed. "The labors of
Boulton and Watt at Soho," says the historian Langford, "changed the
commercial aspects of the world." Their history is, however, but an
epitome of the wonderful story of this great city of the glass and
metal-workers, whose products supply the entire globe.



In our journey through Midland England we have paused at many of the
prison-houses of Mary Queen of Scots. In Northamptonshire, near Elton,
are the remains of the foundations of the castle of Fotheringhay, out in
a field, with the mound of the keep rising in front of them; this was
the unfortunate queen's last prison. It was a noted castle, dating from
the twelfth century, and had been a principal residence of the
Plantagenets. Here Mary was tried and beheaded, February 8, 1587. She
is said to have borne up under her great afflictions with marvellous
courage. Conducted to the scaffold after taking leave of all, she made a
short address, declaring that she had never sought the life of her
cousin Elizabeth--that she was queen-born, not subject to the laws, and
forgiving all. Her attendants in tears then assisted her to remove her
clothing, but she firmly said, "Instead of weeping, rejoice; I am very
happy to leave this world and in so good a cause." Then she knelt, and
after praying stretched out her neck to the executioner, imagining that
he would strike off her head while in an upright posture and with the
sword, as in France; they told her of her mistake, and without ceasing
to pray she laid her head on the block. There was a universal feeling of
compassion, even the headsman himself being so moved that he did his
work with unsteady hand, the axe falling on the back of her head and
wounding her; but she did not move nor utter a complaint, and, repeating
the blow, he struck off her head, which he held up, saying, "God save
Queen Elizabeth!" Her lips moved for some time after death, and few
recognized her features, they were so much changed.


Also in Northamptonshire is Holmby House, where King Charles I. was
captured by the army previous to his trial. It was built by Sir
Christopher Hatton in Queen Elizabeth's time, but only the gates and
some outbuildings remain. After the battle of Naseby the king
surrendered himself to the Scots, and they, through an arrangement with
the English Parliament, conducted him to Holmby House, where he
maintained something of sovereign state, though under the surveillance
of the Parliamentary commissioners. He devoted his time to receiving
visitors, the bowling-green, and the chess-table. This continued for
some months, when a struggle began between the army and the Parliament
to decide whose captive he was. The army subsequently, by a plot, got
possession of Holmby, and, practically making prisoners of the garrison
and the commissioners of Parliament, they abducted the king and took him
to a house near Huntingdon. Fairfax sent two regiments of troops thither
to escort him back to Holmby, but he had been treated with great
courtesy and declined to go back. Thus by his own practical consent the
king was taken possession of by Cromwell, Fairfax, and Ireton, who were
in command, although they denied it, and put the whole blame on one
Cornet Joyce who was in command of the detachment of troops that took
possession of Holmby. The king was ultimately taken to London, tried,
and executed in Whitehall. At Ashby St. Leger, near Daventry, in
Northamptonshire, is the gate-house of the ancient manor of the
Catesbys, of whom Robert Catesby was the contriver of the Gunpowder
Plot. The thirteen conspirators who framed the plot met in a room over
the gateway which the villagers call the "Plot-room," and here Guy
Fawkes was equipped for his task, which so alarmed the kingdom that to
this day the cellars of the Parliament Houses are searched before the
session begins for fear a new plot may have been hatched, while the
anniversary is kept as a solemn holiday in London. The lantern used by
Guy Fawkes is still preserved in the Oxford Museum having been given to
the University in 1641.


One of the most ancient of the strongholds of Midland England was the
Bedicanford of the Saxons, where contests took place between them and
the Britons as early as the sixth century. It stood in a fertile valley
on the Ouse, and is also mentioned in the subsequent contests with the
Danes, having been destroyed by them in the eleventh century. Finally,
William Rufus built a castle there, and its name gradually changed to
Bedford. It was for years subject to every storm of civil war--was taken
and retaken, the most famous siege lasting sixty days, when Henry III.
personally conducted the operations, being attended by the Archbishop of
Canterbury and the chief peers of the realm: this was in 1224, and the
most ingenious engines of war were used to batter down the castle-walls,
which till then had been regarded as impregnable. The stronghold was
ultimately captured, chiefly through the agency of a lofty wooden castle
higher than the walls, which gave an opportunity of seeing all that
passed within. The governor of the castle, twenty-four knights, and
eighty soldiers, making most of the garrison, were hanged. King Henry
then dismantled it and filled up the ditches, so as to "uproot this
nursery of sedition." The ruins lasted some time afterward, but now only
the site is known, located alongside the river Ouse, which runs through
the city of Bedford. This town is of great interest, though, as Camden
wrote two centuries ago, it is more eminent for its "pleasant situation
and antiquity than for anything of beauty and stateliness." Its
neighborhood has been a noted mine for antiquities, disclosing remains
of ancient races of men and of almost pre-historic animals of the Bronze
and Iron Ages. The town lies rather low on the river, with a handsome
bridge connecting the two parts, and pretty gardens fringing each shore.
This bridge is a modern structure, having succeeded the "old bridge,"
which stood there several centuries with a gate-house at either end, in
the larger of which was the old jail, that had for its most
distinguished occupant that sturdy townsman of Bedford, John Bunyan. The
castle-mound, which is all that is left, and on which once stood the
keep, is on the river-shore just below the bridge, and is now used for a
bowling-green in the garden of the chief hotel. The memorials of the
author of the _Pilgrim's Progress_, first a prisoner and then a minister
of the gospel in Bedford, are probably the most prized remains of
ancient days that Bedford has, though they are now becoming scarce.


[Illustration: ELSTOW, BEDFORD.]

[Illustration: ELSTOW CHURCH.]

Elstow, a village about one mile south of Bedford, was Bunyan's
birthplace. The house is still pointed out, though a new front has been
put into it, and it is a very small building, suitable to the tinker's
humble estate. The village-green where he played is near by, alongside
the churchyard wall; the church, which has been little changed, stands
on the farther side of the yard, with a massive tower at the
north-western angle, looking more like a fortress than a religious
edifice. The bells are still there which Bunyan used to ring, and they
also point out "Bunyan's Pew" inside, though the regularity of his
attendance is not vouched for, as he says "absenting himself from
church" was one of his offences during the greater part of his life. He
married early and in poor circumstances, the young couple "not having so
much household stuff as a dish or spoon betwixt them both," though he
considered it among his mercies that he was led "to light upon a wife of
godly parentage." He says that a marked change in his mental condition
suddenly began while playing a game of "tip-cat" on Sunday afternoon on
the village-green, having listened in the morning to a sermon upon
Sabbath-breaking. His conscience smote him; he abandoned the game,
leaving his cat upon the ground, and then began his great spiritual
struggle. He joined the Baptists, and began preaching, for at length,
after many tribulations, he says, "the burden fell from off his back."
He was persecuted, and committed to Bedford jail, where he remained
(with short intervals of parole) for about twelve years. Here he wrote
what Macaulay declares to be incomparably the finest allegory in the
English language--the _Pilgrim's Progress_. He was a voluminous author,
having written some sixty tracts and books. Finally pardoned in 1672, he
became pastor of the Bedford meeting-house, and afterwards escaped
molestation; he preached in all parts of the kingdom, especially in
London, where he died at the age of sixty, having caught cold in a heavy
storm while going upon an errand of mercy in 1688. His great work will
live as long as the Anglo-Saxon race endures. "That wonderful book,"
writes Macaulay, "while it obtains admiration from the most fastidious
critics, is loved by those who are too simple to admire it.... Every
reader knows the strait and narrow path as well as he knows a road in
which he has gone backward and forward a hundred times. This is the
highest miracle of genius, that things which are not should be as though
they were--that the imaginations of one mind should become the personal
recollections of another; and this miracle the tinker has wrought."



The county of Bedford gives the title to the dukedom held by the head of
the great family of Russell, and Francis Charles Hastings Russell, the
ninth Duke of Bedford, has his residence at the magnificent estate of
Woburn Abbey. It is about forty miles from London, and on the
Buckinghamshire border. Here the Cistercians founded an abbey in the
twelfth century, which continued until the dissolution of the religious
houses by Henry VIII., and the last abbot, Robert Hobs, was executed for
denying the king's religious supremacy, the tree on which he was hanged
being still carefully preserved in Woburn Park. The abbey and its domain
were granted by the youthful king Edward VI. to John Russell, first Earl
of Bedford, under circumstances which show how fortune sometimes smiles
upon mortals. Russell, who had been abroad and was an accomplished
linguist, had in 1506 returned, and was living with his father in
Dorsetshire at Berwick, near the sea-coast. Soon afterwards in a tempest
three foreign vessels sought refuge in the neighboring port of Weymouth.
On one of them was the Austrian archduke Philip, son-in-law of Ferdinand
and Isabella, who was on his way to Spain. The governor took the
archduke to his castle, and invited young Mr. Russell to act as
interpreter. The archduke was so delighted with him that he subsequently
invited Russell to accompany him on a visit to King Henry VII. at
Windsor. The king was also impressed with Russell, and appointed him to
an office in the court, and three years afterwards, Henry VIII. becoming
king, Russell was entrusted with many important duties, and was raised
to the peerage as Baron Russell. He enjoyed the king's favor throughout
his long reign, and was made one of the councillors of his son, Edward
VI., besides holding other high offices, and when the youthful prince
ascended the throne he made Russell an earl and gave him the magnificent
domain of Woburn Abbey. He also enjoyed the favor of Queen Mary, and
escorted her husband Philip from Spain, this being his last public act.
Dying in 1555, he was buried in the little parish church of Chenies,
near Woburn, where all the Russells rest from his time until now. He
thus founded one of the greatest houses of England, which has furnished
political leaders from that day to this, for the Dukes of Bedford and
Devonshire are the heads of the Whig party, and Lord John Russell
(afterwards an earl) was the uncle of the present duke.



Woburn Abbey remained until the last century much in its original
condition, but in 1747 changes began which have since been continued,
and have resulted in the construction of the ducal palace now adorning
the spot. The mansion is a quadrangle enclosing a spacious court, the
chief front being towards the west and extending two hundred and thirty
feet. It is an Ionic building with a rustic basement, and within are
spacious state-apartments and ample accommodations for the family. The
rooms are filled with the best collection of portraits of great
historical characters in the kingdom, and most of them are by famous
artists. They include all the Earls and Dukes of Bedford, with their
wives and famous relatives, and also the Leicesters, Essexes, and
Sydneys of Queen Elizabeth's reign, with many others. The unfortunate
Lord William Russell and his wife Rachel are here, and over his portrait
is the walking-stick which supported him to the scaffold, while hanging
on the wall is a copy of his last address, printed within an hour after
his execution. Of another of these old portraits Horace Walpole writes:
"A pale Roman nose, a head of hair loaded with crowns and powdered with
diamonds, a vast ruff and still vaster fardingale, and a bushel of
pearls, are the features by which everybody knows at once the pictures
of Queen Elizabeth." There is a fine library, and passing out of it into
the flower-garden is seen on the lawn the stump of the yew tree which
Mr. Gladstone felled in October, 1878, as a memorial of his visit, he
being as proud of his ability as a forester as he is of his eminence as
a statesman. From the house a covered way leads to the statue-gallery,
which contains an admirable collection, and the green-house, one hundred
and fifty feet long, filled with valuable foreign plants, the family
being great horticulturists. Busts of the great Whig statesmen are in
the gallery, and it also contains the celebrated Lanti vase, brought
from Rome. The "Woburn Abbey Marbles" have long been a Mecca for
sculpture-loving pilgrims from both sides of the ocean. There are
extensive stables, and to them are attached a fine tennis-court and
riding-house, both constantly used by the younger Russells. Beyond is a
Chinese dairy kept for show, and in a distant part of the grounds a
curious puzzle-garden and rustic grotto. Woburn Park is one of the
largest private enclosures in England, covering thirty-five hundred
acres, and enclosed by a brick wall twelve miles long and eight feet
high. It is undulating in surface, containing several pretty lakes and
a large herd of deer. Its "Evergreen Drive" is noted, for in the
spring-time it attracts visitors from all quarters to see the
magnificence of the rhododendrons, which cover two hundred acres. The
state entrance to the park is through a large stone archway with
ornamental gates, called the "Golden Gates," on the road from London,
and having two drives of about a mile each leading up to the abbey. The
dukes are liberal patrons of agriculture, and their annual
"sheep-shearing" used to be one of the great festivals of this part of
England. They have also aided in the work of draining the Fen country,
which extends into Bedfordshire, and which has reclaimed a vast domain
of the best farm-land, stretching northward for fifty miles.



We are now approaching London, and, crossing over the border into
Buckinghamshire, come to another ducal palace. This is the fine estate,
near the town of Buckingham, of Stowe, also originally an abbey, which
came into possession of the Temple family in the sixteenth century, and
in 1749 merged into the estate of the Grenvilles, the ancestors of the
Duke of Buckingham, its present owner. Stowe gets its chief fame from
its pleasure-gardens, which Pope has commemorated. They appear at a
distance like a vast grove, from whose luxuriant foliage emerge
obelisks, columns, and towers. They are adorned with arches, pavilions,
temples, a rotunda, hermitage, grotto, lake, and bridge. The temples are
filled with statuary. The mansion, which has been greatly enlarged, has
a frontage of nine hundred and sixteen feet, and its windows look out
over the richest possible landscape, profuse with every adornment. In
the interior the rooms, opening one into another, form a superb suite.
There is a Rembrandt Room, hung with pictures by that painter, and there
were many curiosities from Italy: old tapestry and draperies; rich
Oriental stuffs, the spoils of Tippoo Saib; furniture from the Doge's
Palace in Venice; marble pavements from Rome; fine paintings and
magnificent plate. Formerly, Stowe contained the grandest collection in
England, and in this superb palace, thus gorgeously furnished, Richard
Grenville, the first Duke of Buckingham, entertained Louis XVIII. and
Charles X. of France and their suites during their residence in England.
His hospitality was too much for him, and, burdened with debt, he was
compelled to shut up Stowe and go abroad. In 1845 his successor received
Queen Victoria at Stowe at enormous cost, and in 1848 there was a
financial crisis in the family. The sumptuous contents of the palace
were sold to pay the debts, and realized $375,000. A splendid avenue of
elms leads up from the town of Buckingham to Stowe, a distance of two

Not far away from Buckingham is Whaddon Hall, formerly a seat of the
Dukes of Buckingham, but best known as the residence of Browne Willis,
an eccentric antiquary, whose person and dress were so singular that he
was often mistaken for a beggar, and who is said "to have written the
very worst hand of any man in England." He wore one pair of boots for
forty years, having them patched when they were worn out, and keeping
them till they had got all in wrinkles, so that he was known as "Old
Wrinkle-boots." He was great for building churches and quarrelling with
the clergy, and left behind him valuable collections of coins and
manuscripts, which he bequeathed to Oxford University. Great Hampden,
the home of the patriot, John Hampden, is also in Buckinghamshire. The
original house remains, much disfigured by stucco and whitewash, and
standing in a secluded spot in the Chiltern Hills; it is still the
property of his descendants in the seventh generation.


The manor of Creslow in Buckinghamshire, owned by Lord Clifford of
Chudleigh, is a pasture-farm of eight hundred and fifty acres, and is
said to raise some of the finest cattle in England; it was the home of
the regicide Holland. The mansion is an ancient one, spacious and
handsome, much of it, including the crypt and tower, coming down from
the time of Edward III., with enlargements in the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries. It is a picturesque yet venerable building, with
many gables and curious chimneys, and surmounted by a square tower and
loopholed turret. But its chief interest attaches to the two ancient
cellars known as the crypt and the dungeon: the crypt is about twelve
feet square, excavated in the limestone rock, and having a Gothic
vaulted ceiling, with a single small window; the dungeon is eighteen
feet long, half as wide, and six feet high, without any windows, and
with a roof formed of massive stones. This is the "haunted chamber of
Creslow"--haunted by a lady, Rosamond Clifford, the "Fair Rosamond" of
Woodstock, often heard, but seldom seen, by those who stay at night in
the room, which she enters by a Gothic doorway leading from the crypt.
Few have ever ventured to sleep there, but not long ago a guest was
prevailed upon to do it, and next morning at breakfast he told his
story: "Having entered the room, I locked and bolted both doors,
carefully examined the whole room, and satisfied myself that there was
no living creature in it but myself, nor any entrances but those I had
secured. I got into bed, and, with the conviction that I should sleep as
usual till six in the morning, I was soon lost in a comfortable slumber.
Suddenly I was aroused, and on raising my head to listen I heard a sound
certainly resembling the light, soft tread of a lady's footstep,
accompanied with the rustling as of a silk gown. I sprang out of bed and
lighted a candle; there was nothing to be seen and nothing now to be
heard; I carefully examined the whole room, looked under the bed, into
the fireplace, up the chimney, and at both the doors, which were
fastened as I had left them; I looked at my watch, and it was a few
minutes past twelve. As all was now perfectly quiet, I extinguished the
candle and soon fell asleep. I was again aroused; the noise was now
louder than before; it appeared like the violent rustling of a stiff
silk dress. I sprang out of bed, darted to the spot where the noise was,
and tried to grasp the intruder in my arms: my arms met together, but
enclosed nothing. The noise passed to another part of the room, and I
followed it, groping near the floor to prevent anything passing under my
arms. It was in vain; I could feel nothing; the noise had passed away
through the Gothic door, and all was still as death. I lighted a candle
and examined the Gothic door, but it was shut and fastened just as I had
left it; I again examined the whole room, but could find nothing to
account for the noise. I now left the candle burning, though I never
sleep comfortably with a light in my room; I got into bed, but felt, it
must be acknowledged, not a little perplexed at not being able to detect
the cause of the noise, nor to account for its cessation when the candle
was lighted. While ruminating on these things I fell asleep, and began
to dream about murders and secret burials and all sorts of horrible
things; and just as I fancied myself knocked down by a knight templar, I
awoke and found the sun shining brightly."

This ancient house was originally the home of a lodge of Knights
Templar, and the dungeon, which is now said to be appropriately
decorated with skulls and other human bones, was formerly their
stronghold. At this weird mansion, within a few minutes' ride of the
metropolis, we will close our descriptive journey through Midland
England, and its mystic tale will recall that passage from the _Book of
Days_ which counsels--

  "Doubtless there are no ghosts;
  Yet somehow it is better not to move,
  Lest cold hands seize upon us from behind."



     The Thames Head--Cotswold Hills--Seven
     Castle--Chavenage--Shifford--Lechlade--Stanton Harcourt--Cumnor
     Hall--Fair Rosamond--Godstow Nunnery--Oxford--Oxford
     Colleges--Christ Church--Corpus Christi--Merton--Oriel--All
     College--Radcliffe Library--Bodleian
     John's--Pembroke--Oxford Churches--Oxford Castle--Carfax
     Lovel--Bicester--Eynsham--Abingdon--Radley--Bacon, Rich, and
     Holt--Clifton Hampden--Caversham--Reading--Maidenhead--Bisham
     Abbey--Vicar of Bray--Eton College--Windsor Castle--Magna Charta
     Island--Cowey Stakes--Ditton--Twickenham--London--Fire
     Monument--St. Paul's Cathedral--Westminster Abbey--The
     Tower--Lollards and Lambeth--Bow Church--St.
     Bride's--Whitehall--Horse Guards--St. James Palace--Buckingham
     Palace--Kensington Palace--Houses of Parliament--Hyde Park--Marble
     Arch--Albert Memorial--South Kensington Museum--Royal
     Exchange--Bank of England--Mansion House--Inns of Court--British
     Museum--Some London Scenes--The Underground Railway--Holland
     House--Greenwich--Tilbury Fort--The Thames Mouth.


[Illustration: THAMES HEAD.]

The river Thames is the largest and most important river in England, and
carries the greatest commerce in the world. From the Cotswold Hills in
Gloucestershire it flows to the eastward past London, and after a course
of two hundred and twenty miles empties into the North Sea. The
confluence of many small streams draining the Cotswolds makes the
Thames, but its traditional source, or "The Thames Head," is in
Trewsbury Mead, about three miles from Cirencester, and at an elevation
of three hundred and seventy-six feet above the sea-level. The waters of
the infant stream are at once pressed into service for pumping into the
higher levels of a canal, which pierces the Cotswolds by a long tunnel,
and connects the Thames with the Severn River, flowing along their
western base. It receives many tiny rivulets that swell its current,
until at Cricklade the most ambitious of these affluents joins it, and
even lays claim to be the original stream. This is the Churn, rising at
the "Seven Springs," about three miles from Cheltenham, and also on the
slope of the Cotswolds. The Churn claims the honor because it is twenty
miles long, while the Thames down to Cricklade measures only ten miles.
But they come together affectionately, and journey on through rich
meadows much like other streams, until the clear waters have acquired
sufficient dignity to turn a mill. Cirencester (pronounced Cisseter),
which thus has the honor of being a near neighbor of the Thames Head, is
an ancient town, occupying the site of the Roman city of Corinium, and
is known as the "metropolis of the Cotswolds." Here four great Roman
roads met, and among the many Roman remains it has is part of the ruins
of an amphitheatre. It was a famous stronghold before the Saxons came to
England, and Polydorus tells how one Gormund, an African prince, in the
dim ages of the past, besieged it for seven long years. Then he
bethought him that if he could only set fire to the thatched roofs of
the houses he could in the commotion that would follow force an
entrance. So he set his troops at work catching sparrows, and when many
were caught fastened combustibles under their tails and let them loose.
The poor birds flew straight to their nests under the thatches, set them
in a blaze, and while the people were busy putting out the fires Gormund
got into the town. In memory of this it was afterwards called the "City
of Sparrows." The Normans built a strong castle here, and Stephen
destroyed it. The castle was rebuilt, and suffered the usual fate in the
successive civil wars, and in the Revolution of 1688 the first bloodshed
was at Cirencester. It had a magnificent abbey, built for the Black
Canons in the twelfth century, and ruled by a mitred abbot who had a
seat in Parliament. A fine gateway of this abbey remains, and also the
beautiful church with its pretty tower. It is known now as the parish
church of St. John, and has been thoroughly restored. Within are the
monuments of the Bathurst family, whose seat at Oakley Park, near the
town, has some charming scenery. Pope's Seat, a favorite resort of the
poet, is also in the park. Cheltenham, near which is the "Seven
Springs," the source of the Churn, is a popular watering-place, with the
Earl of Eldon's seat at Stowell Park not far away. Here in 1864 a Roman
villa was discovered, which has been entirely excavated. It has twenty
chambers communicating with a long corridor, and there are several
elegant tessellated pavements, while the walls are still standing to a
height of four feet. Two temples have also been found in the immediate
neighborhood. Substantial buildings have been erected to protect these
precious remains from the weather.


In the Cotswolds is the castle of Sudeley, its ruins being in rather
good preservation. It was an extensive work, built in the reign of Henry
VI., and was destroyed in the Civil Wars; it was a famous place in the
olden time, and was regarded as one of the most magnificent castles in
England when Queen Elizabeth made her celebrated progress thither in
1592. After the death of Henry VIII., his queen, Catharine Parr, married
Lord Seymour of Sudeley, and she died and was buried in this castle: it
is related that her leaden coffin was exhumed in 1782, two hundred and
eighty years after her death, and the remains were found in excellent
preservation. Among the records of the castle is a manuscript stating
that Catharine Parr was told by an astrologer who calculated her
nativity that she was born to sit in the "highest state of imperial
majesty," and that she had all the eminent stars and planets in her
house: this worked such lofty conceit in the lady that "her mother could
never make her sew or do any small work, saying her hands were ordained
to touch crowns and sceptres, not needles and thimbles." Near Tatbury,
and also in the Cotswolds, is the source of the classic river Avon, and
north-west of the town is the fine Elizabethan mansion of Chavenage,
with its attractive hall and chapel. The original furniture, armor, and
weapons are still preserved. This was the old manor-house of the family
of Stephens, and Nathaniel represented Gloucestershire in Parliament at
the time of the conviction of Charles I.: it is related that he was only
persuaded to agree to the condemnation by the impetuous Ireton, who came
there and sat up all night in urgent argument "to whet his almost
blunted purpose." Stephens died in May, 1649, expressing regret for
having participated in the execution of his sovereign. We are further
told in the traditions of the house that when all the relatives were
assembled for the funeral, and the courtyard was crowded with equipages,
another coach, gorgeously ornamented and drawn by black horses, solemnly
approached the porch: when it halted, the door opened, and, clad in his
shroud, the shade of Stephens glided into the carriage; the door was
closed by an unseen hand, and the coach moved off, the driver being a
beheaded man, arrayed in royal vestments and wearing the insignia of the
Star and Garter. Passing the gateway of the courtyard, the equipage
vanished in flames. Tradition maintains also that every lord of
Chavenage dying in the manor-house since has departed in the same awful

The Thames flows on after its junction with the Churn, and receives
other pretty streams, all coming out of the Cotswolds. The Coln and the
Leche, coming in near Lechlade, swell its waters sufficiently to make it
navigable for barges, and the river sets up a towing-path, for here the
canal from the Severn joins it. The river passes in solitude out of
Gloucestershire, and then for miles becomes the boundary between
Oxfordshire on the north and Berkshire on the south. The canal has been
almost superseded by the railway, so that passing barges are rare, but
the towing-path and the locks remain, with an occasional rustic dam
thrown across the gradually widening river. In this almost deserted
region is the isolated hamlet of Shifford, where King Alfred held a
parliament a thousand years ago. Near it is the New Bridge, a solid
structure, but the oldest bridge that crosses the Thames, for it was
"new" just six hundred years ago. The Thames then receives the Windrush
and the Evenlode, and it passes over frequent weirs that have become
miniature rapids, yet not too dangerous for an expert oarsman to guide
his boat through safely. Thus the famous river comes to Bablock Hythe
Ferry, and at once enters an historic region.



A short distance from the ferry in Oxfordshire is Stanton Harcourt, with
its three upright sandstones, "the Devil's Coits," supposed to have been
put there to commemorate a battle between the Saxons and the Britons
more than twelve centuries ago. The village gets its name from the large
and ancient mansion of the Harcourts, of which, however, but little
remains. Pope passed the greater part of two summers in the deserted
house in a tower that bears his name, and where he wrote the fifth
volume of his translation of Homer in the topmost room: he recorded the
fact on a pane of glass in the window in 1718, and this pane has been
carefully preserved. The kitchen of the strange old house still remains,
and is a remarkable one, being described as "either a kitchen within a
chimney or a kitchen without one." In the lower part this kitchen is a
large square room; above it is octangular and ascends like a tower, the
fires being made against the walls, and the smoke climbing up them until
it reaches the conical apex, where it goes out of loopholes on any side
according to the wind. The distance from the floor to the apex is about
sixty feet, and the interior is thickly coated with soot. The fireplaces
are large enough to roast an ox whole.

[Illustration: CUMNOR CHURCHYARD.]

Not far from the ferry, in Berkshire, is the ancient manor-house of
Cumnor Hall, sacred to the melancholy memory of poor Amy Robsart. She
was the wife of Dudley, Earl of Leicester, and when his ambition led him
to seek Queen Elizabeth's hand it was necessary to get her out of the
way. So he sent Amy to Cumnor, where his servant Anthony Forster lived.
At first poison was tried, but she suspected it, and would not take the
potion. Then, sending all the people away, Sir Richard Varney and
Forster, with another man, strangled her, and afterwards threw her down
stairs, breaking her neck. It was at first given out that poor Amy had
fallen by accident and killed herself, but people began to suspect
differently, and the third party to the murder, being arrested for a
felony and threatening to tell, was privately made away with in prison
by Leicester's orders. Both Varney and Forster became melancholy before
their deaths, and finally a kinswoman of the earl, on her dying bed,
told the whole story. The earl had Amy buried with great pomp at Oxford,
but it is recorded that the chaplain by accident "tripped once or twice
in his speech by recommending to their memories that virtuous lady so
pitifully _murdered_, instead of saying pitifully _slain_." Sir Walter
Scott has woven her sad yet romantic story into his tale of
_Kenilworth_; and to prove how ambition overleaps itself, we find Lord
Burghley, among other reasons which he urged upon the queen why she
should not marry Leicester, saying that "he is infamed by the murder of
his wife." The queen remained a virgin sovereign, and Leicester's crime
availed only to blacken his character.


The Thames flows on past the wooded glades of Wytham Abbey, and then
revives the memory of Fair Rosamond as it skirts the scanty ruins of
Godstow Nunnery. This religious house upon the river-bank was founded in
the reign of Henry I., and the ruins are some remains of the walls and
of a small chapter-house in which Rosamond's corpse was deposited. It
was at Woodstock, in Oxfordshire, then a royal palace, that in the
twelfth century Henry II. built "Fair Rosamond's Bower" for his charmer,
who was the daughter of Lord Clifford. This bower was surrounded by a
labyrinth. Queen Eleanor, whom the king had married only from ambitious
motives, was much older than he, and he had two sons by Rosamond, whom
he is said to have first met at Godstow Nunnery. The bower consisted of
arched vaults underground. There are various legends of the discovery of
Rosamond by Eleanor, the most popular being that the queen discovered
the ball of silk the king used to thread the maze of the labyrinth, and
following it found the door and entered the bower. She is said to have
ill-treated and even poisoned Rosamond, but the belief now is that
Rosamond retired to the nunnery from sorrow at the ultimate defection of
her royal lover, and did not die for several years. The story has been
the favorite theme of the poets, and we are told that her body was
buried in the nunnery, and wax lights placed around the tomb and kept
continually burning. Subsequently, her remains were reinterred in the
chapter-house, with a Latin inscription, which is thus translated:

  "This tomb doth here enclose the world's most beauteous rose--
  Rose passing sweet erewhile, now naught but odor vile."

[Illustration: GODSTOW NUNNERY.]







As we float along the quiet Thames the stately towers and domes of the
university city of Oxford come in sight, and appear to suddenly rise
from behind a green railway embankment. Here the Cherwell flows along
the Christ Church meadows to join the great river, and we pause at the
ancient Ousenford--or the ford over the Ouse or Water--a name which time
has changed to Oxford. The origin of the famous university is involved
in obscurity. The city is mentioned as the scene of important political
and military events from the time of King Alfred, but the first
undisputed evidence that it was a seat of learning dates from the
twelfth century. Religious houses existed there in earlier years, and to
these schools were attached for the education of the clergy. From these
schools sprang the secular institutions that finally developed into
colleges, and common interest led to the association from which
ultimately came the university. The first known application of the word
to this association occurs in a statute of King John. In the thirteenth
century there were three thousand students at Oxford, and Henry III.
granted the university its first charter. In those early times the
university grew in wealth and numbers, and intense hostility was
developed between the students and townspeople, leading to the quarrels
between "Town and Gown" that existed for centuries, and caused frequent
riots and bloodshed. A penance for one of these disturbances, which
occurred in 1355 and sacrificed several lives, continued to be kept
until 1825. The religious troubles in Henry VIII.'s time reduced the
students to barely one thousand, but a small part of whom attended the
colleges, so that in 1546 only thirteen degrees were conferred. In 1603
the university was given representation in Parliament; it was loyal to
Charles I., and melted its plate to assist him, so that after his
downfall it was plundered, and almost ceased to have an existence as an
institution of learning; it has since had a quiet and generally
prosperous history. The university comprises twenty-one colleges, the
oldest being University College, founded in 1249, and the youngest the
Keble Memorial College, founded in 1870. University College, according
to tradition, represents a school founded by King Alfred in 872, and it
celebrated its millennial anniversary in 1872. Balliol College, founded
between 1263 and 1268, admits no one who claims any privilege on account
of rank or wealth, and is regarded as having perhaps the highest
standard of scholarship at Oxford. Christ Church College is the most
extensive in buildings, numbers, and endowments, and is a cathedral
establishment as well as college. There are now about eighty-five
hundred members of the university and twenty-five hundred
undergraduates. The wealth of some of the colleges is enormous, and they
are said to own altogether nearly two hundred thousand acres of land in
different parts of the kingdom, and to have about $2,100,000 annual
revenues, of which they expend not over $1,500,000, the remainder
accumulating. They also have in their gift four hundred and forty-four
benefices, with an annual income of $950,000. It costs a student about
$1200 to $1500 a year to live at Oxford, and about $325 in university
and college fees from matriculation to graduation, when he gets his
degree of B.A., or, if inattentive, fails to pass the examination, and,
in Oxford parlance, is said to be "plucked."



The enumeration of the colleges which make up the university will
naturally begin with the greatest, Christ Church, founded by Cardinal
Wolsey, of which the principal façade extends four hundred feet along
St. Aldate's Street, and has a noble gateway in the centre surmounted by
a six-sided tower with a dome-like roof. Here hangs the great bell of
Oxford, "Old Tom," weighing seventeen thousand pounds, which every
night, just after nine o'clock, strikes one hundred and one strokes,
said to be in remembrance of the number of members the college had at
its foundation. Wolsey's statue stands in the gateway which leads into
the great quadrangle, called by the students, for short, "Tom Quad."
Here are the lodgings of the dean and canons, and also the Great Hall,
the finest in Oxford, and the room where the sovereign is received
whenever visiting the city. The ancient kitchen adjoins the hall, and
near by is the entrance to the cathedral, which has been restored, and
the ancient cloisters. From the buildings a meadow extends down to the
rivers, the Cherwell on the left and the Thames (here called the Isis)
on the right, which join at the lower part of the meadow. Beautiful
walks are laid out upon it, including the famous Oxford promenade, the
Broad Walk, a stately avenue of elms bordering one side of the meadow.
Here, on the afternoon of Show Sunday, which comes immediately before
Commemoration Day, nearly all the members of the university and the
students, in academic costume, make a promenade, presenting an animated



[Illustration: ORIEL COLLEGE.]

Corpus Christi College was founded by Bishop Fox of Winchester in 1516,
and its quadrangle, which remains much as at the foundation, contains
the founder's statue, and also a remarkable dial, in the centre of which
is a perpetual calendar. This college is not very marked in
architecture. It stands at the back of Christ Church, and adjoining it
is Merton College, founded in 1264 by Walter de Merton. His idea was to
forbid the students following in after life any other pursuit than that
of parish priest. The chapel of Merton is one of the finest in Oxford,
and its massive tower is a city landmark. The entrance-gateway,
surmounted by a sculptured representation of St. John the Baptist, is
attractive, and the two college quadrangles are picturesque, the "Mob
Quad," or library quadrangle, being five hundred years old, with the
Treasury and its high-pitched ashlar roof and dormer windows above one
of the entrance-passages. St. Alban Hall, built about 1230, adjoins
Merton, and is a Gothic structure with a curious old bell-tower. Oriel
College stands opposite Corpus Christi, but the ancient buildings of the
foundation in 1324-26 have all been superseded by comparatively modern
structures of the seventeenth century: though without any striking
architectural merits, the hall and chapel of this college are extremely
picturesque. Its fame is not so much from its buildings as from some of
its fellows, Whately, Keble, Wilberforce, Newman, Pusey, and Arnold
having been among them. St. Mary's Hall, an offshoot founded in the
fourteenth century, stands near this college. All Souls College is on
the High Street, and was founded in 1437, its buildings being, however,
modern, excepting one quadrangle. In the chapel is a magnificent
reredos, presented by Lord Bathurst, who was a fellow of All Souls, and
containing figures representing most of the fellows of his time: in the
library are Wren's original designs for building St. Paul's. This
college was founded by Archbishop Chichele for "the hele of his soul"
and of the souls of all those who perished in the French wars of King
Henry V.; hence its name. We are told that the good archbishop was much
troubled where to locate his college, and there appeared to him in a
dream a "right godly personage," who advised him to build it on the High
Street, and at a certain spot where he would be sure in digging to find
a "mallard, imprisoned but well fattened, in the sewer." He hesitated,
but all whom he consulted advised him to make the trial, and
accordingly, on a fixed day after mass, with due solemnity the digging
began. They had not dug long, the story relates, before they heard "amid
the earth horrid strugglings and flutterings and violent quackings of
the distressed mallard." When he was brought out he was as big as an
ostrich, and "much wonder was thereat, for the lycke had not been seen
in this londe nor in onie odir." The Festival of the Mallard was long
held in commemoration of this event, at which was sung the "Merry Song
of the All Souls Mallard," beginning--

  "Griffin, bustard, turkey, capon,
  Let other hungry mortals gape on,
  And on the bones their stomach fill hard;
  But let All Souls men have their mallard.
    Oh, by the blood of King Edward,
    It was a wopping, wopping mallard!"

While the festival has passed away, the song is still sung at Oxford,
and the tale has given rise to much literature, there having been
vigorous contests waged over the authenticity of the mallard.

University College, also on the High Street, though the earliest
founded, now has no building older than the seventeenth century. It has
an imposing Gothic front with two tower-gateways, while the recently
constructed New Building is an elegant structure erected in 1850.
Queen's College, founded in 1341 by Queen Philippa's confessor, and
hence its name, is a modern building by Wren and his pupils. St. Edmund
Hall, opposite Queen's College, is a plain building, but with
magnificent ivy on its walls.



Bishop Patten of Winchester, who was surnamed Waynflete, founded
Magdalen College in 1458. It stands by the side of the Cherwell, and its
graceful tower, nearly four hundred years old, rises one hundred and
forty-five feet--one of the most beautiful constructions in Oxford. Its
quadrangles are fine, especially the one known as the Cloisters, which
remains much as it was in the time of the founder, and is ornamented
with rude sandstone statues erected in honor of a visit from King James
I. In accordance with ancient custom, on the morning of the first of
May, just as five o'clock strikes, a solemn Te Deum is sung on the top
of Magdalen Tower, where the choristers assemble in surplices and with
uncovered heads. When it closes the crowd on the ground below give out
discordant blasts from myriads of tin horns, but the Magdalen chime of
bells, said to be "the most tunable and melodious ring of bells in all
these parts and beyond," soon drowns the discord, and gives a glad
welcome to the opening of spring. This custom survives from the time of
Henry VII., and the produce of two acres of land given to the college by
that king is used to pay for a feast for the choristers, spread later in
the day in the college hall. The college has a meadow and small
deer-park attached, known as the Magdalen Walks, and encircled by the
arms of the Cherwell, while avenues of trees along raised dykes
intersect it. The avenue on the north side of this meadow is known as
"Addison's Walk," and was much frequented by him when at this college.
The little deer-park, a secluded spot, abounds with magnificent elms. It
was at Magdalen that Wolsey was educated, being known as the "Boy
Bachelor," as he got his B.A. degree at the early age of fifteen. The
Botanic Garden is opposite Magdalen College, having a fine gateway with
statues of Charles I. and II. Magdalen College School, a modern
building, but an organization coeval with the college, is a short
distance to the westward.


[Illustration: MAGDALEN COLLEGE.]

The King's Hall, commonly known as Brasenose College, and over the
entrance of which is a prominent brazen nose, still retains its chief
buildings as originally founded by the Bishop of Lincoln and Sir Richard
Sutton in 1512. The entrance-tower was recently restored, and the rooms
occupied by Bishop Heber, who was a member of this college, are still
pointed out, with their windows looking upon a large horse-chestnut tree
in the adjoining Exeter Gardens. This famous college is said to occupy
the spot where King Alfred's palace stood, and hence its name of the
King's Hall, which the king in his laws styled his palace. The part of
the palace which was used for the brew-house, or the _brasinium_,
afterwards became the college, and as early as Edward I. this found
ocular demonstration by the fixing of a brazen nose upon the gate. This
is also a relic of Friar Bacon's brazen head. We are told that this
famous friar, who lived at Oxford in the thirteenth century, became
convinced, "after great study," that if he should succeed in making a
head of brass which could speak, "he might be able to surround all
England with a wall of brass." So, with the assistance of another friar
and the devil, he went to work and accomplished it, but with the
drawback that the brazen head when finished was "warranted to speak in
the course of one month," but it was uncertain just when it would speak,
and "if they heard it not before it had done speaking, all their labor
would be lost." They watched it three weeks, but fatigue overmastered
them, and Bacon set his servant on watch, with orders to awaken them if
the head should speak. At the end of one half hour the fellow heard the
head say, "Time is;" at the end of another, "Time was;" and at the end
of a third half hour, "Time's past," when down fell the head with a
tremendous crash. The blockhead thought his master would be angry if
disturbed by such trifles, and this ended the experiment with the brazen
head. Yet Friar Bacon was a much wiser man than would be supposed by
those who only know him from this tale. He was esteemed the most learned
man ever at the great university, and it is considered doubtful if any
there in later years surpassed him.



William of Wykeham founded the New College, or the College of St. Mary
Winton, in 1380. It has a noble entrance, and in a niche above the
gateway is the Virgin, to whom an angel and the founder are addressing
themselves in prayer. The chapel has a massive detached bell-tower, and
in its windows are some fine stained glass, while the silver staff of
William of Wykeham is still preserved there. The cloisters are extensive
and picturesque, the ribbed roof resembling the bottom of a boat, while
the restored hall has a fine oaken roof. The New College gardens are
enclosed on three sides by the ancient walls of the city, which are well
preserved, and the enclosure is one of the most beautiful in Oxford.
Through a door in a corner of the gardens there is a passageway opening
out of one of the bastions of the old walls into a strip of ground
called the "Slype," where a fine view is had of the bastions, with the
college bell-tower and chapel behind them. In making a recent addition
to the buildings of this college on the edge of the "Slype," the workmen
in digging for the foundations discovered the remains of a mammoth.

[Illustration: NEW COLLEGE.]


New College Lane leads to Radcliffe Square, in the centre of which is
located the handsome Radcliffe Library, with colleges, churches, and
schools all around the square. Dr. Radcliffe, who was the
court-physician of King William III. and Queen Anne, founded this
library, which is in a handsome rotunda surmounted by a dome on an
octagonal base. The structure, which is one hundred feet in diameter,
rises to a height of one hundred and forty feet, and from the top there
is a fine view of the city. To the northward, at a short distance, are
the Schools, a quadrangular building, now chiefly occupied by the famous
Bodleian Library. From Radcliffe Square the entrance is through a
vaulted passage, the central gate-tower being a remarkable example of
the combination of the five orders of architecture piled one above the
other. In this building, on the lower floor, the public examinations of
the candidates for degrees are held, while above is the library which
Sir Thomas Bodley founded in the sixteenth century, and which contains
three hundred thousand volumes, including many ancient and highly-prized
works in print and manuscript.



Lincoln College was founded by Richard Flemyng, Bishop of Lincoln, in
1427. Here John Wesley was a member, and the pulpit from which he
preached is still kept as a precious relic. Opposite to Lincoln is Jesus
College, founded by Queen Elizabeth in 1571, though others assisted; it
was intended to be exclusively for Welshmen, but this has since been
changed. The chapel has a double chancel. Alongside of Lincoln is Exeter
College, founded by Walter Stapleton of Exeter in 1314: this is one of
the largest colleges, the greater part of the buildings being modern;
they are among the finest in Oxford. The hall, restored in the present
century, has a high-pitched timber roof, while the chapel, which is one
of the most remarkable edifices in Oxford, has a thin, small spire that
is conspicuous from a great distance. The Ashmolean Museum adjoins
Exeter College, and next to this is the Sheldonian Theatre, built in
1669 by Archbishop Sheldon of Canterbury, where the annual commemoration
is held and the honorary degrees are conferred. Not far away is Wadham
College, founded in 1613 by Nicholas Wadham and Dorothy his wife. It
has excellent buildings and a most beautiful garden. There is a new
Museum of Natural History in the park near by, and also Keble College,
founded in 1868 as a memorial of Rev. John Keble, the author of the
_Christian Year_. Its buildings are of variegated brick, the chapel
being the loftiest, most costly, and finest of its style in Oxford. The
building is a perfect glare of coloring.


Trinity College was founded in 1554 by Sir Thomas Pope. Its tower and
chapel are Grecian, and the chapel has a most beautiful carved screen
and altarpiece. The library contains a chalice that once belonged to St.
Alban's Abbey. Kettel Hall, now a private dwelling, is a picturesque
building in front of Trinity. On Broad Street, where Trinity stands, is
also Balliol College, founded in the thirteenth century by John Balliol.
None of the existing buildings are earlier than the fifteenth century,
while the south front, with its massive tower, has just been rebuilt. It
was here that the martyrs Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley were burned. A
little farther along the same street is St. John's College, which Sir
Thomas White founded in 1557. It is fronted by a terrace planted with
fine elms. Its quadrangles and cloisters are much admired, especially
the venerable oriel windows and quaint stone gables of the library. St.
John's gardens are regarded as among the most attractive in Oxford.
Opposite St. John's are the university galleries, with their display of
the Pomfret Marbles and Raphael and Michel Angelo's paintings and
drawings, and behind this building is Worcester College, founded in 1714
by Sir Thomas Cookes. Its gardens contain a lake. Pembroke College is
opposite Christ Church, and was founded in 1624 in honor of the Earl of
Pembroke, then the chancellor of the university. While its
entrance-gateway and hall, recently built, are fine, the other buildings
are not attractive. The chief remembrance of Pembroke is of Dr. Samuel
Johnson, who occupied apartments over the original gateway, but was
compelled by poverty to leave the college before taking his degree. This
completes the description of the colleges, halls, and schools of the
great university, which presents an array of institutions of learning
unrivalled in any part of the world, and of which Englishmen are justly

[Illustration: TOWER ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE.]



There are some fine churches in Oxford, notably the university church of
St. Mary the Virgin, conspicuous from its Decorated spire rising one
hundred and eighty-eight feet, which is a memorial of Queen Eleanor of
Castile. A short distance to the westward is All Saints Church. Fronting
Christ Church is St. Aldate's Church, also with a lofty spire and
Decorated tower. Like most English towns, Oxford had a castle, but its
remains are now reduced to a solitary tower, a few fragments of wall,
and a high mound. This castle has long been the property of Christ
Church, and was used for a prison, whence Cranmer and his fellow-martyrs
went to the stake. The old tower was built in the days of William Rufus.
Beneath the ruins is a crypt known as Maud's Chapel. In the centre of
the mound is an octagonal vaulted chamber, approached by a long flight
of steps, and containing a well. It was in this castle that the empress
Maud was besieged by King Stephen in 1141, but escaped in the night, the
castle surrendering next morning. The ground was covered with snow at
the time, and the empress, with three attendants, clad in white, passed
unnoticed through the lines of the besiegers and crossed the Thames on
the ice. Just before this Maud escaped from the castle of Devizes as a
dead body drawn on a hearse. The castle of Oxford has been in a
dilapidated condition since Edward III.'s time. As an evidence of the
change of opinion, the Martyrs' Memorial stands on St. Giles Street in
honor of the martyrs who found the old tower of the castle their
prison-house until the bigots of that day were ready to burn them at the
stake in front of Balliol College.


The intersection of the four principal streets of old Oxford makes what
is called the Carfax (a word derived from _quatre voies_), and here in
the olden time stood a picturesque conduit. Conduits in former years
were ornaments in many English towns, and some of them still remain in
their original locations. This conduit, which stood in the way of
traffic, was presented as a nuisance as long ago as the time of Laud,
and Lord Harcourt in 1787 removed it to his park at Nuneham. One of the
curious changes that have come over some Oxford landmarks is related of
a group of statues in the entrance to the Schools, where the Bodleian
Library is located. This group represents Mater Academia giving a book
to King James I., sitting in his chair of state, while winged Fame
trumpets the gift throughout the world. When the king saw this,
embellished with appropriate mottoes, all of which were gloriously gilt,
the ancient historian says he exclaimed, "By my soul! this is too
glorious for Jeamy," and caused the gilded mottoes to be "whited out."
Originally, the statue of the king held a sceptre in his right hand, and
a book, commonly taken for the Bible, in his left. Both have
disappeared. The sceptre is said to have fallen upon the passing of the
Reform Bill, and the book came down about the time of the abolition of
the University Tests. The eastern part of Oxford is meadow-and
garden-land, extending down to the two famous rivers which unite just
below the town, and along whose shores the racing-boats in which the
students take so much interest are moored. Pretty bridges span both
streams, and we follow down the Thames again, skirting along its
picturesque shores past Iffley, with its romantic old mill and the
ancient church with its square tower rising behind, well-known landmarks
that are so familiar to boating-men, till we come to Nuneham Park, with
the old Carfax Conduit set on an eminence, and Blenheim Woods looming up
in the background, as we look towards Oxford.

[Illustration: CARFAX CONDUIT.]

[Illustration: IFFLEY MILL.]

The church of Iffley is beautifully situated on the Thames, but little
is known of its origin or history. It was in existence in 1189, when
King Henry II. died, and its architecture indicates that it could
scarcely have been built much before that time. It is an unusually good
specimen of the Norman style, and is in wonderful preservation,
considering its age. This church is peculiarly rich in its doorways,
having three of great value, and each differing from the other. The
southern doorway is enriched with sculptured flowers, a style that is
almost unique in Norman architecture; it also contains rudely carved
imitations of Roman centaurs. On the south side of the church is an
ancient cross and one of the most venerable yew trees in the kingdom, in
the trunk of which time has made a hollow where a man could easily
conceal himself. There is not on all the Thames a scene more loved by
artists than that at Iffley, with its old mill and church embosomed in
foliage, and having an occasional fisherman lazily angling in the smooth
waters before them, while the Oxford oarsmen, some in fancy costumes,
paddle by.

[Illustration: IFFLEY CHURCH.]


If we go up the Cherwell towards the northern part of Oxfordshire, a
brief visit can be paid to the famous town of Banbury, noted for its
"castle, cross, and cakes." This was an ancient Roman station, and the
amphitheatre still exists just out of town. The castle was built in the
twelfth century, and many conflicts raged around it. Queen Elizabeth
granted the castle to Lord Saye and Sele, and one of his successors
first organized the revolt against Charles I. at his neighboring mansion
of Broughton. Banbury was a great Puritan stronghold, and it is related
that when a book descriptive of Banbury was being printed in those days,
it contained a sentence describing Banbury as remarkable for its cheese,
cakes, and ale. One Camden, looking at the press while the sheet was
being printed, thought this too light an expression, and changed the
word _ale_ into _zeal_, so that the town became noted for Banbury zeal
as well as cheese and cakes. The old castle, after standing several
desperate sieges, was demolished by the Puritans, and nothing now
remains excepting the moat and a small remnant of wall on which a
cottage has been built. The Banbury cakes are mentioned as early as
1686, and they are still in high repute, being sent to all parts of the
world. The Banbury cheese of which Shakespeare wrote is no longer made.
The Banbury cross has been immortalized in nursery-rhymes, but it was
taken down by the Puritans. The rhyme tells the little folk.

  "Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross,
  To see a fine lady ride on a white horse;
  With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes,
  She shall have music wherever she goes."


Diligent research has developed some important information about this
fine lady. It appears that in "the Second Edward's reign a knight of
much renown, yclept Lord Herbert, chanced to live near famous Banbury
town." Now, this knight had one son left, and "fearless and brave was
he; and it raised the pride in the father's heart his gallant son to
see." The poetic tale goes on to relate "that near Lord Herbert's
ancient hall proud Banbury Castle stood, within the noble walls of which
dwelt a maiden young and good;" with much more to the same effect. There
is the usual result: the knight loves the lady, has a mortal combat with
the rival, and nearly loses his life. The fair lady nurses him with
care, but as he gradually sinks she loses hope and pines away. A holy
monk lived in the castle, and, noticing her despondency, offers to
effect a cure. He prescribes: "To-morrow, at the midnight hour, go to
the cross alone: for Edward's rash and hasty deed perhaps thou mayst
atone." She goes there, walks around the cross, and Edward is cured.
Then all rejoice, and a festival is ordered, whereat,

  "Upon a milk-white steed, a lady doth appear:
  By all she's welcomed lustily in one tremendous cheer:
  With rings of brilliant lustre her fingers are bedecked,
  And bells upon her palfrey hung to give the whole effect."

A noble cavalier rode beside her, and the result has been

  "That even in the present time the custom's not forgot;
  But few there are who know the tale connected with the spot,
  Though to each baby in the land the nursery-rhymes are told
  About the lady robed in white and Banbury Cross of old."

Broughton Castle is a fine castellated mansion a short distance
south-west of Banbury. It dates from the Elizabethan era, and its owner,
Viscount Saye and Sele, in Charles I.'s reign, thinking that his
services were not sufficiently rewarded, took the side of Parliament, in
which his son represented Banbury. When the king dissolved Parliament,
it assembled clandestinely in Broughton Castle. Here the Parliamentary
leaders met in a room with thick walls, so that no sounds could escape.
Here also were raised the earliest troops for the Parliament, and the
"Blue-coats" of the Sayes were conspicuous at the battle of Edgehill,
which was fought only a few miles away. Immediately afterwards King
Charles besieged Broughton Castle, captured and plundered it. This
famous old building witnessed in this way the earliest steps that led to
the English Revolution, and it is kept in quite good preservation.
Subsequently, when Oliver Cromwell became the leader of the
Parliamentary party, he held his Parliament in Banbury at the Roebuck
Inn, a fine piece of architecture, with a great window that lights up
one of the best rooms in England of the earlier days of the Elizabethan
era. A low door leads from the courtyard to this noted council-chamber
where Cromwell held his Parliament, and it remains in much the same
condition as then.

[Illustration: BERKS AND WILTS CANAL.]

Through Oxfordshire is laid out one of those picturesque water-ways of
the olden time--the Berks and Wilts Canal--which, though almost
superseded by the omnipresent railway, still exists to furnish pretty
scenery with its shady towing-paths and rustic swing-bridges. Almost the
only traffic that remains to this canal, which comes out upon the Thames
near Oxford, is carrying timber. The growth of English timber is slow,
but some is still produced by the process of thinning the woods so as to
make shapely trees, for otherwise the tall trunks would force themselves
up almost without spreading branches.


[Illustration: CHAUCER'S HOUSE.]

Not far away from Oxford is the manor of Woodstock, where "Fair
Rosamond's Bower" was built by King Henry II. This manor was an early
residence of the kings of England, and Henry I. built a palace there,
adding to it a vast park. Of this palace not a sign is now to be seen,
but two sycamores have been planted to mark the spot. The poet Chaucer
lived at Woodstock, and is supposed to have taken much of the
descriptive scenery of his _Dream_ from the park. Edward the Black
Prince, son of Edward III., was born at Woodstock. Henry VII. enlarged
the palace, and put his name upon the principal gate; and this
gate-house was one of the prisons of the princess Elizabeth, where she
was detained by her sister, Queen Mary. Elizabeth is said to have
written with charcoal on a window-shutter of her apartment, in 1555, a
brief poem lamenting her imprisonment. Her room had an arched roof
formed of carved Irish oak and colored with blue and gold, and it was
preserved until taken down by Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough. In the
Civil War the palace was besieged, and after surrender, unlike most
similar structures, escaped demolition. Cromwell allotted it to three
persons, two of whom pulled down their portions for the sake of the
stone. Charles II. appointed the Earl of Rochester gentleman of the
bedchamber and comptroller of Woodstock Park, and it is said that he
here scribbled upon the door of the bedchamber of the king the
well-known mock epitaph:

  "Here lies our sovereign lord, the king.
    Whose word no man relies on;
  He never says a foolish thing,
    Nor ever does a wise one."

In Queen Anne's reign Woodstock was granted to John Churchill, Duke of
Marlborough, for his eminent military services. The condition of the
grant, which is still scrupulously performed, was that on August 2d in
every year he and his heirs should present to the reigning monarch at
Windsor Castle one stand of colors, with three fleurs-de-lis painted
thereon. The estate was named Blenheim, after the little village on the
Danube which was the scene of his greatest victory on August 2, 1704.
Ten years later, the duchess Sarah took down the remains of the old
palace of Woodstock, and Scott has woven its history into one of his
later novels. Hardly any trace remains of old Woodstock, and the only
ruin of interest is a curious chimney-shaft of the fourteenth century,
which a probably inaccurate tradition says was part of the residence of
the Black Prince.



Woodstock Park covers twenty-seven hundred acres, and is nearly twelve
miles in circuit, abounding with fine trees and having an undulating
surface, over which roam a large herd of deer and a number of kangaroos.
When the manor was granted to the Duke of Marlborough, Parliament voted
a sum of money to build him a palace "as a monument of his glorious
actions." The park is entered through a fine Corinthian gateway, built
by the duchess Sarah in memory of her husband the year after his death.
A pretty stream of water, the river Glyme, with a lake, winds through a
valley in front of the palace, and is crossed by a stately stone bridge
with a centre arch of one hundred feet span. Not far from this bridge
was Fair Rosamond's Bower, now marked by a wall; beyond the bridge,
standing on the lawn, is the Marlborough Column, a fluted Corinthian
pillar one hundred and thirty-four feet high, surmounted by the hero in
Roman dress and triumphal attitude. This monument to the great duke has
an account of his victories inscribed on one face of the pedestal, while
on the others are the acts of Parliament passed in his behalf, and an
abstract of the entail of his estates and honors upon the descendants of
his daughters. Parliament voted $2,500,000 to build Blenheim Palace, to
which the duke added $300,000 from his own resources. The duke died
seventeen years after the palace was begun, leaving it unfinished. We
are told that the trees in the park were planted according to the
position of the troops at Blenheim. The architect of the palace was
John Vanbrugh, of whom the satirical epitaph was written:

  "Lie heavy on him, Earth, for he
  Laid many a heavy load on thee."

The palace is a massive structure, with spacious portals and lofty
towers, and its principal front, which faces the north, extends three
hundred and forty-eight feet from wing to wing, with a portico and
flight of steps in the centre. The interior is very fine, with
magnificently-painted ceilings, tapestries, statuary, and a rare
collection of pictures. The tapestries represent Blenheim and other
battles, and there are one hundred and twenty copies of famous masters,
made by Teniers. A stately statue of Queen Anne stands in the library.
There are costly collections of enamels, plaques, and miniatures; on the
walls are huge paintings by Sir James Thornhill, one representing the
great duke, in a blue cuirass, kneeling before Britannia, clad in white
and holding a lance and wreath; Hercules and Mars stand by, and there
are emblem-bearing females and the usual paraphernalia. We are told that
Thornhill was paid for these at the rate of about six dollars per square
yard. The duchess Sarah also poses in the collection as Minerva, wearing
a yellow classic breastplate. Among other relics kept in the palace are
Oliver Cromwell's teapot, another teapot presented by the Duc de
Richelieu to Louis XIV., two bottles that belonged to Queen Anne, and
some Roman and Grecian pottery. The great hall, which has the battle of
Blenheim depicted on its ceiling, extends the entire height of the
building; the library is one hundred and eighty-three feet long; and in
the chapel, beneath a pompous marble monument, rest the great duke and
his proud duchess Sarah, and their two sons, who died in early years.
The pleasure-gardens extend over three hundred acres along the borders
of the lake and river, and are very attractive. They contain the Temple
of Health erected on the recovery of George III. from his illness, an
aviary, a cascade elaborately constructed of large masses of rock, a
fountain copied after one in Rome, and a temple of Diana. This great
estate was the reward of the soldier whose glories were sung by Addison
in his poem on the _Campaign_. Addison then lived in a garret up three
pair of stairs over a small shop in the Haymarket, London, whither went
the Chancellor of the Exchequer to get him to write the poem, and
afterwards gave him a place worth $1000 a year as a reward. The
Marlboroughs since have been almost too poor to keep up this magnificent
estate in its proper style, for the family of Spencer-Churchill, which
now holds the title, unlike most of the other great English houses, has
not been blessed with a princely private fortune. Not far from Woodstock
is Minster Lovel, near the village of Whitney. Some fragments of the
house remain, and it has its tale of interest, like all these old
houses. Lord Lovel was one of the supporters of the impostor Simnel
against Henry VII., and his rebellion being defeated in the decisive
battle at Stoke in Nottinghamshire, Lord Lovel escaped by unfrequented
roads and arrived home at night. He was so disguised that he was only
known by a single servant, on whose fidelity he could rely. Before
daybreak he retired to a subterranean recess, of which this servant
retained the key, and here he remained several months in safe
concealment. The king confiscated the estate, however, and dispersed the
household, so that the voluntary prisoner perished from hunger. During
the last century, when this stately house was pulled down, the vault was
discovered, with Lord Lovel seated in a chair as he had died. So
completely had rubbish excluded the air that his dress, which was
described as superb, and a prayer-book lying before him on the table,
were entire, but soon after the admission of the air the body is said to
have fallen into dust.


[Illustration: BICESTER PRIORY.]

[Illustration: BICESTER MARKET.]

[Illustration: CROSS AT EYNSHAM.]

A pleasant and old-fashioned town, not far away from Oxford, is
Bicester, whereof one part is known as the King's End and the other as
the Market End. Here is the famous Bicester Priory, founded in the
twelfth century through the influence of Thomas à Becket. It was
intended for a prior and eleven canons, in imitation of Christ and his
eleven disciples. The priory buildings remained for some time after the
dissolution of the religious houses, but they gradually disappeared, and
all that now exists is a small farm-house about forty feet long which
formed part of the boundary-wall of the priory, and is supposed to have
been a lodge for the accommodation of travellers. In the garden was a
well of never-failing water held in high repute by pilgrims, and which
now supplies a fish-pond. The priory and its estates have passed in
regular succession through females from its founder, Gilbert Basset, to
the Stanleys, and it is now one of the possessions of the Earl of Derby.
Bicester is an excellent specimen of an ancient English market-town, and
its curious block of market-buildings, occupied by at least twenty-five
tenements, stands alone and clear in the marketplace. There are
antique gables, one of the most youthful of which bears the date of
1698. On the top is a promenade used by the occupants in summer
weather. In the neighboring village of Eynsham is said to be the stone
coffin that once held Fair Rosamond's remains, but it has another
occupant, one Alderman Fletcher having also been buried in it in 1826.
Eynsham once had an abbey, of which still survives the shaft of a stone
cross quaintly carved with the figures of saints. It is a relic probably
of the thirteenth century, but nothing remains of the abbey beyond a few
stones that may have belonged to it. It was near Eynsham, not very long
ago, that a strange dark-green water-plant first made its appearance in
the Thames, and spread so rapidly that it soon quite choked the
navigation of the river, and from there soon extended almost all over
the kingdom. The meadows and the rivers became practically all alike, a
green expanse, in which from an eminence it was difficult to tell where
the water-courses lay. This plant was called the "American weed," the
allegation being that it came over in a cargo of timber from the St.
Lawrence. It caused great consternation, but just when matters looked
almost hopeless it gradually withered and died, bringing the navigation
welcome relief.



Crossing over into Berkshire, we find, a short distance south of Oxford,
on the bank of the Thames, the ruins of the once extensive and
magnificent Abingdon Abbey, founded in the seventh century. It was here
that Henry, the son of William the Conqueror, was educated and gained
his appellation of Beauclerc. The gatehouse still remains, and is at
present devoted to the use of fire-engines, but there is not much else
remaining of the abbey save a remarkable chimney and fireplace and some
fragments of walls. We are told that the Saxons founded this abbey, and
that the Danes destroyed it, while King Alfred deprived the monks of
their possessions, but his grandson Ædred restored them. The abbey was
then built, and became afterwards richly endowed. For six centuries it
was one of the great religious houses of this part of England; and the
Benedictines, true to their creed, toiled every day in the fields as
well as prayed in the church. They began the day by religious services;
then assembled in the chapter-house, where each was allotted his task
and tools, and after a brief prayer they silently marched out in double
file to the fields. From Easter until October they were thus occupied
from six in the morning until ten o'clock, and sometimes until noon.
Thus they promoted thrift, and as their settlement extended it became
the centre of a rich agricultural colony, for they often, as their lands
expanded, let them out to farmers. A short distance from Abingdon is
Radley, which was formerly the manor of the abbey, and contains a
beautiful little church, wealthy in its stores of rich woodwork and
stained glass; it stands in the middle of the woods in a charming
situation, with picturesque elm trees overhanging the old Tudor
building. Radley House is now a training-school for Oxford, and it has a
swimming-school attached, in which have been prepared several of the
most famous Oxford oarsmen, swimming being here regarded as a necessary
preliminary to boating. Near by is Bagley Wood, the delicious resort of
the Oxonians which Dr. Arnold loved so well. The village of Sunningwell,
not far from Radley, also has a church, and before its altar is the
grave of Dean Fell, once its rector, who died of grief on hearing of the
execution of Charles I. From the tower of this church Friar Bacon, the
hero of the story of the brazen head, is said to have made astronomical
observations: this renowned friar, Roger Bacon, has come down to us as
the most learned man that Oxford ever produced. Bacon's Study was near
the Folly Bridge, across the Thames on the road to Oxford, and it
survived until 1779, when it was taken down. Among the many legends told
of Bacon is one that he used such skill and magic in building the tower
containing this study that it would have fallen on the head of any one
more learned than himself who might pass under it. Hence, freshmen on
their arrival at Oxford are carefully warned not to walk too near the
Friar's Tower. Bacon overcame the greatest obstacles in the pursuit of
knowledge; he spent all his own money and all that he could borrow in
getting books and instruments, and then, renouncing the world, he became
a mendicant monk of the order of St. Francis. His _Opus Majus_--to
publish which he and his friends pawned their goods--was an epitome of
all the knowledge of his time.

[Illustration: RADLEY CHURCH.]

Other famous men came also from Abingdon. Edmund Rich, who did so much
to raise the character of Oxford in its earlier days, was born there
about the year 1200; his parents were very poor, and his father sought
refuge in Eynsham Abbey. We are told that his mother was too poor to
furnish young Rich "with any other outfit than his horsehair shirt,
which she made him promise to wear every Wednesday, and which probably
had been the cause of his father's retirement from their humble abode."
Rich went from Eynsham to Oxford, and soon became its most conspicuous
scholar; then he steadily advanced until he died the Archbishop of
Canterbury. Chief-Justice Holt, who reformed the legal procedure of
England, was also a native of Abingdon; he admitted prisoners to some
rights, protected defendants in suits, and had the irons stricken off
the accused when brought into court, for in those days of the cruel rule
of Judge Jeffreys the defendant was always considered guilty until
adjudged innocent. Holt originated the aphorism that "slaves cannot
breathe in England:" this was in the famous Somerset case, where a slave
was sold and the vendor sued for his money, laying the issues at
Mary-le-Bow in London, and describing the negro as "there sold and
delivered." The chief-justice said that the action was not maintainable,
as the status of slavery did not exist in England. If, however, the
claim had been laid in Virginia, he said he would have been obliged to
allow it; so that the decision was practically on technical grounds.
Lord Campbell sums up Holt's merits as a judge by saying that he was not
a statesman like Clarendon, or a philosopher like Bacon, or an orator
like Mansfield, yet his name is held in equal veneration with theirs,
and some think him the most venerated judge that ever was chief-justice.
There is a really good story told of him by Lord Campbell. In his
younger days Holt was travelling in Oxfordshire, and stopped at an inn
where the landlady's daughter had an illness inducing fits. She appealed
to him, and he promised to work a cure: which he did by writing some
Greek words on a piece of parchment and telling her to let her daughter
wear the charm around her neck. Partly from the fact that the malady had
spent itself, and possibly also from the effect of her imagination, the
girl entirely recovered. Years rolled on and he became the lord
chief-justice, when one day a withered old woman was brought before the
assizes for being a witch, and it was proven that she pretended to cure
all manner of cattle diseases, and with a charm that she kept carefully
wrapped in a bundle of rags. The woman told how the charm many years
before had cured her daughter, and when it was unfolded and handed to
the judge he remembered the circumstance, recognized his talisman, and
ordered her release.



As we continue the journey down the Thames the shores on either hand
seem cultivated like gardens, with trim hedgerows dividing them, pretty
villages, cottages gay with flowers and evergreens, spires rising among
the trees; and the bewitching scene reminds us of Ralph Waldo Emerson's
tribute to the English landscape, that "it seems to be finished with
the pencil instead of the plough." The surface of the river is broken by
numerous little "aits" or islands. We pass the little old house and the
venerable church embosomed in the rural beauties of Clifton-Hampden. We
pass Wallingford and Goring, and come to Pangbourne and Whitchurch,
where the little river Pang flows in between green hills. Each village
has the virtue that Dr. Johnson extolled when he said that "the finest
landscape in the world is improved by a good inn in the foreground."
Then we come to Mapledurham and Purley, where Warren Hastings lived, and
finally halt at Caversham, known as the port of Reading. Here the Thames
widens, and here in the olden time was the little chapel with a statue
of the Virgin known as the "Lady of Caversham," which was reputed to
have wrought many miracles and was the shrine for troops of pilgrims. In
Cromwell's day the chapel was pulled down, and the statue, which was
plated over with silver, was boxed up and sent to the Lord Protector in
London. They also had here many famous relics, among them the
spear-head that pierced the Saviour's side, which had been brought
there by a "one-winged angel." The officer who destroyed the chapel, in
writing a report of the destruction to Cromwell, expressed his regret at
having missed among the relics "a piece of the holy halter Judas was
hanged withal." Lord Cadogan subsequently built Caversham House for his
residence. Reading, which is the county-town of Berkshire, is not far
away from Caversham, and is now a thriving manufacturing city, its most
interesting relic being the hall of the ancient Reading Abbey, built
seven hundred years ago. It was one of the wealthiest in the kingdom,
and several parliaments sat in the hall. The ruins, still carefully
preserved, show its extent and fine Norman architecture.

The Thames flows on past Sonning, where the Kennet joins it, a stream
"for silver eels renowned," as Pope tells us. Then the Lodden comes in
from the south, and we enter the fine expanse of Henley Reach, famous
for boat-racing. It is a beautiful sheet of water, though the
university race is now rowed farther down the river and nearer London,
at Putney. Our boat now drifts with the stream through one of the most
beautiful portions of the famous river, past Medmenham Abbey and
Cliefden to Maidenhead. Here for about ten miles is a succession of
beauties of scenery over wood and cliff and water that for tranquil
loveliness cannot be surpassed anywhere. Who has not heard of the
charming rocks and hanging woods of Cliefden, with the Duke of
Westminster's mansion standing on their pinnacle?


[Illustration: BRAY CHURCH.]

We come to Maidenhead and Taplow, with Brunel's masterpiece of
bridge-building connecting them, its elliptical brick arches being the
broadest of their kind in the kingdom. Below this, as beauties decrease,
we are compensated by scenes of greater historical interest. Near
Maidenhead is Bisham Abbey, the most interesting house in Berkshire. It
was originally a convent, and here lived Sir Thomas Russel, who at one
time was the custodian of the princess Elizabeth. He treated her so well
that she warmly welcomed him at court after becoming queen.

Bisham is a favorite scene for artists to sketch. Bray Church, where
officiated the famous "Vicar of Bray," Symond Symonds, is below
Maidenhead. This lively and politic vicar lived in the troubled times of
King Henry VIII., Edward VI., Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth. Having
seen martyrs burnt at Windsor, but two miles off, he found the fires too
hot for his tender temper, and therefore changed his religion whenever
events changed his sovereign. When taxed with being a religious
changeling, his shrewd answer was, "Not so, for I always keep my
principle, which is this--to live and to die the Vicar of Bray." The old
church, nestling among the trees, is attractive, and we are told that an
ancient copy of _Fox's Book of Martyrs_, which was chained to the
reading-desk in Queen Elizabeth's time, is still preserved here for the
edification of the faithful.



[Illustration: 2. THE CRICKET-GROUND.]

Soon the famous Eton College comes into view on the northern bank of the
river--an institution dear to the memory of many English schoolboys. The
village consists of a long, narrow street which is extended across an
iron bridge to Windsor, on the southern bank of the Thames. Henry VI.
founded the "College of the Blessed Mary of Eton beside Windsor" as
early as 1440. The older parts of the buildings are of red brick, with
stone dressings and quaint, highly ornamental chimneys, and they are
clustered around two quadrangles. Here are the Lower and Upper Schools
and the Long Chamber. About thirty-five years ago fine new buildings
were erected in similar style to the old buildings, which provide a
beautiful chapel, schools, and library (though books are said to be
scarce there), and extensive dormitories. Adjoining them to the
north-east are the Playing Fields on the broad green meadows along the
river's edge, with noble elms shading them. In the Upper School of the
ancient structure high wooden panelling covers the lower part of the
walls, deeply scarred with the names of generations of Eton boys crowded
closely together. In earlier times all used to cut their names in the
wood, but now this sculpturing is only permitted to those who attain a
certain position and leave without dishonor. Thus the panelling has
become a great memorial tablet, and above it, upon brackets, are busts
of some of the more eminent Etonians, including the Duke of Wellington,
Pitt, Fox, Hallam, Fielding, and Gray. In the library are kept those
instruments of chastisement which are always considered a part of
schoolboy training, though a cupboard hides them from view--all but the
block whereon the victim kneels preliminary to punishment. More than
once have the uproarious boys made successful raids and destroyed this
block or carried it off as a trophy. But vigorous switching was more a
habit at Eton in former days than it is now. Of Head-master Keate, who
was a famous flogger a half century ago, and would frequently practise
on a score of boys at one _séance_, the scholars made a calculation to
prove that he spent twice as much time in chastisement as in church, and
it is recorded that he once flogged an entire division of eighty boys
without an intermission. On another occasion he flogged, by mistake, a
party who had been sent him for confirmation. Tall stories are also told
of Eton flogging and "rug-riding"--the latter being a process whereby a
heavy boy was dragged on a rug over the floors to polish them. Down to
1840 the Eton dinners consisted entirely of mutton, with cold mutton
served up for supper, but this regulation diet is now varied with an
occasional service of beef and other courses. Games are no
inconsiderable part of the English schoolboy's education, and the Duke
of Wellington said that in the "Playing Fields" of Eton the battle of
Waterloo was won. These fields, "where all unconscious of their doom the
little victims play," contain one of the finest cricket-grounds in
England. The boys divide themselves into "dry bobs" and "wet bobs," the
former devoted to cricket and the latter to boating. The procession of
the boats is the great feature of June 4th, the "Speech Day." Of late
years the Eton volunteer corps has attained great proficiency, being a
battalion of over three hundred of the larger boys. This famous college
is one of the preparatory schools for the universities. It is a world in
miniature, where the boy finds his own level, and is taught lessons of
endurance, patience, self-control, and independence which stand him in
good service throughout after-life.



Across the Thames, on the southern bank, the antique and noble towers of
Windsor Castle now rise high above the horizon. This is the sovereign's
rural court, and is probably the best known by the world of all the
English castles. The name is given various derivations: some ascribe it
to the river's winding course; others to "Wind us over," in allusion to
a rope-ferry there in ancient times; others to "Wind is sore," as the
castle stands high and open to the weather. From the Saxon days Windsor
has been a fortress, but the present castle owes its beginning to Edward
III., who was born at Windsor and built its earliest parts, commencing
with the great Round Tower in 1315. The ransoms of two captive kings,
John of France and David of Scotland, paid for the two higher wards. It
was at Windsor that King Edward instituted the Order of the Garter,
which is the highest British order of knighthood. Being impressed with
the charms of Alice, Countess of Salisbury, but she resisting his
advances, out of the gallantries of their coquetry came the circumstance
of the king's picking up her garter dropped at a ball and presenting it
to her. Some of the nobles smiled at this, which the king noticing,
said, "Honi soit qui mal y pense" ("Evil be to him who evil thinks"),
adding that shortly they would see that garter advanced to such high
renown as to be happy to wear it. Froissart, in giving the legend
telling of this institution of the Garter, says that it arose out of the
chivalrous self-denial that leads virtue to subdue passion. Henry VI.
was born at Windsor; Edward IV. added St. George's Chapel to the castle;
Henry VII. built the Tomb House, and Henry VIII. the gateway to the
Lower Ward; Queen Elizabeth added the gallery of the north terrace; and
in Charles II.'s reign the fortress, which it had been until that time,
was converted into a sort of French palace. Thus it remained until
George IV., in 1824, thoroughly restored it at a cost of $7,500,000. The
great gateways are known as Henry VIII.'s, St. George's, and King George
IV.'s, while within is the Norman or Queen Elizabeth's Gate. The Round
Tower or Keep was built for the assemblage of a fraternity of knights
which King Edward intended to model after King Arthur's "Knights of the
Round Table," but the project was abandoned after the institution of the
Order of the Garter.

[Illustration: ROUND TOWER, WEST END.

(By permission of Messrs. Harper & Brothers.)]

The Round Tower stands upon an artificial mound, and what was formerly
its surrounding ditch is now a sunken garden. From its commanding
battlements twelve counties can be seen, and the Prince of Wales is
constable of this tower, as indeed of the whole castle. This fine old
keep was the castle-prison from the time of Edward III. to that of
Charles II. The poet-king, James I. of Scotland, captured when ten years
old by Henry IV., was the first prisoner of note. Here he fell in love
with Jane Beaufort, daughter of the Duke of Somerset, and he tells in a
quaint poem the romance which ended in her becoming his queen. Henry
Howard, Earl of Surrey, brought to the block by Henry VIII., was also
confined there, and he too lamented his captivity in poetry. From the
top of the keep the dome of St. Paul's in London can be seen. The castle
was mercilessly plundered in the Civil Wars, till Cromwell interfered
for its protection. In its present condition the castle has three grand
divisions in the palatial parts--the state apartments, looking north;
the queen's private apartments, looking east; and the visitors'
apartments, looking south. The south and east sides of the quadrangle
contain over three hundred and seventy rooms. Southward of the castle is
the Windsor Great Park, to which the "Long Walk," said to be the finest
avenue of the kind in Europe, runs in a straight line for three miles
from the principal entrance of the castle to the top of a commanding
eminence in the park called Snow Hill. Double rows of stately elms
border the "Long Walk" on either hand, and it terminates at the fine
bronze equestrian statue of George III., standing on the highest part of
Snow Hill.


(By permission of Messrs. Harper & Brothers.)]

St. George's Chapel, a beautiful structure of the Perpendicular Gothic,
was begun four hundred years ago, and contains the tomb of Edward IV.,
who built it. In 1789, more than three hundred years after his
interment, the leaden coffin of the king was found in laying a new
pavement. The skeleton is said to have been seven feet long, and Horace
Walpole got a lock of the king's hair. Here also lie Henry VI., Henry
VIII., and Charles I. The latter's coffin was opened in 1813, and the
king's remains were found in fair preservation. The close companionship
of Henry VIII. and Charles in death is thus described by Byron:

  "Famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties,
  By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies."

The tradition of "Herne the Hunter," which Shakespeare gives in the
_Merry Wives of Windsor_, is said to be founded on the fact that Herne,
a keeper of Windsor Forest, having committed some offence, hanged
himself upon an oak tree. His ghost afterwards was to be seen, with
horns on its head, walking round about this oak in the neighborhood of
the castle.


(By permission of Messrs. Harper & Brothers.)]


[Illustration: MAGNA CHARTA ISLAND.]

Just below Windsor the Thames passes between Runnimede, the "Meadow of
Council," where the barons encamped, and Magna Charta Island, where King
John signed the great charter of English liberty. The river sweeps in a
tranquil bend around the wooded isle, where a pretty little cottage has
been built which is said to contain the very stone whereon the charter
was signed. The river Coln falls into the Thames, and "London Stone"
marks the entrance to Middlesex and the domain of the metropolis. We
pass Staines and Chertsey, where the poet Cowley lived, and then on the
right hand the river Wey comes in at Weymouth. Many villages are passed,
and at a bend in the Thames we come to the place where Cæsar with his
legions forded the river at Cowey Stakes, defeated Cassivelaunus, and
conquered Britain. In his _Commentaries_ Julius Cæsar writes that he
led his army to the Thames, which could be crossed on foot at one place
only, and there with difficulty. On arriving, he perceived great forces
of the enemy drawn up on the opposite bank, which was fortified by sharp
stakes set along the margin, a similar stockade being fixed in the bed
of the river and covered by the stream. These facts being ascertained
from prisoners and deserters, Cæsar sent the cavalry in front and
ordered the legions to follow immediately. The soldiers advanced with
such impetuosity, although up to their necks in the water, that the
Britons could not withstand the onset and fled. A couple of miles below,
at Hampton, Garrick lived in a mansion fronted by a rotunda with a
Grecian portico. We pass Hampton Court and Bushey Park, which revive
memories of Wolsey, Cromwell, and William III., and then on the opposite
bank see the two charming Dittons--"Thames" and "Long" Ditton--of which
Theodore Hook has written:

  "When sultry suns and dusty streets proclaim town's 'winter season,'
  And rural scenes and cool retreats sound something like high treason,
  I steal away to shades serene which yet no bard has hit on,
  And change the bustling, heartless scene for quietude and Ditton.

  "Here, in a placid waking dream, I'm free from worldly troubles,
  Calm as the rippling silver stream that in the sunshine bubbles;
  And when sweet Eden's blissful bowers some abler bard has writ on,
  Despairing to transcend _his_ powers, I'll _ditto_ say for Ditton."

Then we pass Kingston, where several Saxon kings were crowned, and the
coronation-stone, marked with their names, it is said, still remains in
the market-place. Teddington Lock is the last upon the Thames, and a
mile below is Eel-Pie Island, lying off Twickenham, renowned for the
romance that surrounds its ancient ferry. Near here lived the eccentric
Horace Walpole, at Strawberry Hill, while in Twickenham Church is the
monument to the poet Pope, which states in its inscription that he would
not be buried in Westminster Abbey. Pope's villa no longer exists, and
only a relic of his famous grotto remains. The widening Thames, properly
named the Broadwater, now sweeps on to Richmond, and if that far-famed
hill is climbed, it discloses one of the finest river-views in the


Here ends the romantic portion of the Thames. The beauty of Nature is no
longer present, being overtopped by the stir and roar of the great
Babel, for the metropolis has reached out and swallowed up the suburban
villages, although some of the picturesque scenes remain. Many bridges
span the river, which on either hand gradually transforms its
garden-bordered banks into the city buildings, and the Thames itself
bears on its bosom the valuable commerce that has chiefly made the great
capital. When King James I. threatened recalcitrant London with the
removal of his court to Oxford, the lord mayor sturdily yet
sarcastically replied, "May it please Your Majesty, of your grace, not
to take away the Thames too?" This river, so beautiful in its upper
loveliness, stands alone in the far-reaching influence of the commerce
that its lower waters bear. It has borne us from the Cotswolds to
London; while to properly describe the great city would take volumes in
itself. Without attempting such a task, we will only give a brief
summary of some of the more striking objects of interest that the great
British metropolis presents.

[Illustration: THE MONUMENT.]

The origin of the vast city whose population now approximates four
millions is obscure. It was a British settlement before the Romans came
to England, and its name of Llyn Dyn, the "City of the Lake," was
transformed by the conquerors into Londinium. When Cæsar crossed the
Thames he thought the settlement of too little importance for mention,
and it does not seem to have been occupied as a Roman station until a
century afterwards, and was not walled round until A.D. 306. The old
wall was about three miles in circumference, beginning near the present
site of the Tower, and some slight traces of it remain. The "London
Stone" on Cannon Street was the central stone or _milliarium_ from which
distances were measured and the great Roman highways started. A worn
fragment of this stone, protected by iron bars, now stands against the
wall of St. Swithin's Church. When Jack Cade entered London, Shakespeare
tells us, he struck his sword on this stone and exclaimed, "Now is
Mortimer lord of this city." Wren caused it to be encased, for
protection, with a new stone hollowed for the purpose; it now stands
very near its original position. London in the sixth century became the
capital of the Saxon kingdom of Essex, and in the ninth century the
Danes destroyed it. King Alfred a few years afterwards rebuilt London,
but it stood barely seven years when it was burned. Finally, it was
again rebuilt, and again captured by the Danes, Canute setting himself
up as king there. Some relics of these Danes remain. St. Olaf was their
saint, and Tooley Street is but a corruption of his name. They had a
church and burial-place where now St. Clement-Danes stands awry on the
Strand--a church that is of interest not only on its own account, but
for the venerable antiquity it represents. The Saxons drove out the
Danes, and the Normans in turn conquered the Saxons, the Tower of London
coming down to us as a relic of William the Conqueror, who granted the
city the charter which is still extant. Henry I. gave it a new charter,
which is said to have been the model for _Magna Charta_. In the twelfth
century London attained the dignity of having a lord mayor. It sided
with the House of York in the Wars of the Roses, and in Elizabeth's
reign had about one hundred and fifty thousand population, being then
about two miles south of Westminster, with fields between, and having
the Tower standing apart from the city farther down the Thames. The
plague devastated it in 1665, carrying off sixty thousand persons, and
next year the Great Fire occurred, which destroyed five-sixths of the
city within the walls, and burned during four days. This fire began at
Pudding Lane, Monument Yard, and ended at Pie Corner, Giltspur Street.
To commemorate the calamity the Monument was erected on Fish Street
Hill, on the site of St. Margaret's Church, which was destroyed. It is a
fluted Doric column of Portland stone, erected by Wren at a cost of
$70,000, and is two hundred and two feet high. The inscriptions on the
pedestal record the destruction and restoration of the city; and down to
the year 1831 there was also an inscription untruthfully attributing the
fire to "the treachery and malice of the popish faction;" this has been
effaced, and to it Pope's couplet alluded:

  "Where London's column, pointing to the skies,
  Like a tall bully lifts its head and lies."

A vase of flames forty two feet high, made of gilt bronze, crowns the
apex, up to which leads a winding staircase of three hundred and
forty-five steps. The structure has often been compared to a lighted
candle, and the balcony at the top, having been selected as a favorite
place for suicides to jump from, is now encaged with iron-work to
prevent this.

London was rebuilt in four years after the Great Fire, and the first
stone of the new St. Paul's was laid in 1675, when the city had, with
the outlying parishes, a half million population. Its growth was slow
until after the American Revolution, and it began the present century
with about eight hundred thousand people. The past seventy years have
witnessed giant strides, and it has made astonishing progress in the
elegance of its parks and new streets and the growth of adornments and
improvements of all kinds. London has become, in fact, a world within


[Illustration: ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL.]

Among a multitude of famous objects in London, three stand out boldly
prominent--St. Paul's Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, and the Tower. St.
Paul's, the cathedral church of the bishops of London, is the finest
building in the Italian style in Great Britain; but, unfortunately, in
consequence of the nearness of the surrounding houses, no complete
general view is attainable. The first church was built there by King
Ethelbert in 610; it was destroyed by fire in the eleventh century, and
then old St. Paul's was built, suffering repeatedly from fire and
lightning, and being finally destroyed by the Great Fire of 1666. It was
a large church, with a spire rising five hundred and twenty feet. The
money-lenders and small dealers plied their vocations in its middle
aisle, known as Paul's Walk, while tradespeople took possession of the
vaults and cloisters, a baker made a hole in a buttress for his
bakeoven, and several buildings were planted against the outer walls,
one being used as a theatre. The ruins were not disturbed for eight
years after the fire, when Wren began rebuilding, the cathedral being
finished in thirty-five years. The architect, bishop, and master-mason
who laid the corner-stone were all living at the completion--a singular
circumstance. Wren got $1000 a year salary, and for this, said the
Duchess of Marlborough, he was content to be dragged up to the top in a
basket three or four times a week. The building cost $3,740,000, chiefly
raised by subscription. It is the fifth of the churches of Christendom
in size, being excelled by St. Peter's and the cathedrals at Florence,
Amiens, and Milan. In ground plan it is a Latin cross five hundred feet
long, with a transept of two hundred and fifty feet in length; the nave
and choir are one hundred and twenty-five feet wide and the sides one
hundred feet high. The majestic dome, which is the glory of the
cathedral, rises three hundred and sixty-five feet, and the surmounting
lantern carries a gilt copper ball and cross. The grand front towards
the west, facing Ludgate Hill, is approached by a double flight of
steps from an area which contains a statue of Queen Anne. The portico is
in two divisions, with Corinthian columns supporting the pediment, which
bears a _bas-relief_ of the conversion of St. Paul, and has a statue of
St. Paul at the apex, with statues of St. Peter at the sides.
Bell-towers rise from each side of the portico to a height of two
hundred and twenty feet, surmounted by domes. The large bell, "Great
Paul," which has just been placed in the tower, is the heaviest in
England, weighing nearly seventeen tons. Within the cathedral the cupola
has a diameter of one hundred and eight feet, and rises two hundred and
twenty-eight feet above the pavement; around it runs the famous
Whispering Gallery. Beneath the centre of the pavement lie the remains
of Lord Nelson in the crypt, for St. Paul's has been made the mausoleum
of British heroes on sea and land. Here, among others, are monuments to
Napier, Ponsonby, Cornwallis, Nelson, Howe, Collingwood, Pakenham, Sir
John Moore, Abercrombie, Rodney, St. Vincent, and also a noble porphyry
mausoleum for the Duke of Wellington. Some of the heroes of peace also
have monuments in St. Paul's, among them Dr. Johnson, Howard the
philanthropist, Sir Astley Cooper the surgeon, Bishop Middleton, Sir
Joshua Reynolds, Turner, Rennie the engineer, and also Wren. The memory
of the great architect is marked by a marble slab, with the inscription,
"Reader, do you ask his monument? Look around."



The outside elevation of the cathedral is of two orders of
architecture--the lower, Corinthian, having windows with semicircular
headings, while the upper, Composite, has niches corresponding to the
windows below. The entablature of each story is supported by coupled
pilasters, while the north and south walls are surmounted by
balustrades. Each arm of the transept is entered by an external
semicircular portico, reached by a lofty staircase. Above the dome is
the Golden Gallery, whence there is a grand view around London, if the
atmosphere permits, which it seldom does. Above the lantern is the ball,
weighing fifty-six hundred pounds; above this the cross, weighing
thirty-three hundred and sixty pounds.



[Illustration: WESTMINSTER ABBEY.]

This is the most renowned church in England, for in it her sovereigns
have been crowned, and many of them buried, from the days of Harold to
Victoria, and it contains the graves of her greatest men in
statesmanship, literature, science, and art. The abbey is the collegiate
church of St. Peter's, Westminster, and stands not far away from the
Thames, near Westminster Hall and the Parliament Houses. Twelve hundred
years ago its site was an island in the Thames known as Thorney Island,
and a church was commenced there by Sebert, king of Essex, but was not
completed until three centuries afterwards, in the reign of King Edgar,
when it was named the "minster west of St. Paul's," or Westminster. The
Danes destroyed it, and Edward the Confessor rebuilt it in the eleventh
century. Portions of this church remain, but the present abbey was begun
by Henry III. nearly seven hundred years ago, and it was not completed
until Edward III.'s time. Henry VII. removed the Lady Chapel, and built
the rich chapel at the east end which is named after him. Wren
ultimately made radical changes in it, and in 1714, after many changes,
the abbey finally assumed its present form and appearance. It has had a
great history, the coronations alone that it has witnessed being marked
events. They usually were followed by banquets in Westminster Hall, but
over $1,300,000 having been wasted on the display and banquet for George
IV., they were discontinued afterwards. At Queen Victoria's coronation
the crown was imposed in front of the altar before St. Edward's Chapel,
the entire nave, choir, and transepts being filled by spectators, and
the queen afterwards sitting upon a chair which, with the raised
platform bearing it, was covered with a cloth of gold. Here she received
the homage of her officers and the nobility. The ancient
coronation-chair, which is probably the greatest curiosity in the abbey,
is a most unpretentious and uncomfortable-looking old high-backed chair
with a hard wooden seat. Every sovereign of England has been crowned in
it since Edward I. There is a similar chair alongside it, the duplicate
having been made for the coronation of William and Mary, when two chairs
were necessary, as both king and queen were crowned and vested with
equal authority. Underneath the seat of the coronation-chair is fastened
the celebrated Stone of Scone, a dark-looking, old, rough, and
worn-edged rock about two feet square and six inches thick. All sorts of
legends are told of it, and it is said to have been a piece of Jacob's
Pillar. Edward I. brought it from Scotland, where many generations had
done it reverence, and the old chair was made to contain it in 1297.
These priceless accessories of the coronation ceremony, which will some
day do service for the Prince of Wales, are kept alongside the tomb of
Edward the Confessor, which for centuries has been the shrine of
pilgrims, and they are guarded by the graves of scores of England's
kings and queens and princes.



The abbey's ground-plan has the form of a Latin cross, which is apsidal,
having radiating chapels. Henry VII.'s Chapel prolongs the building
eastward from the transept almost as much as the nave extends westward.
Cloisters adjoin the nave, and the western towers, built by Wren, rise
two hundred and twenty-five feet, with a grand window beneath them. The
church is five hundred and thirty feet long. The nave is one hundred and
sixty-six feet long and one hundred and two feet high; the choir, one
hundred and fifty-five long; the transept, two hundred and three feet
long, and on the south arm one hundred and sixty-five feet high. A great
rose-window, thirty feet in diameter, is in the north end of the
transept, with a fine portico, beneath which is the beautiful gateway of
the abbey. In the interior the height of the roof is remarkable, and
also the vast number of monuments, there being hundreds of them.
Magnificent woodwork in carving and tracery adorns the choir, and its
mosaic pavement comes down to us from the thirteenth century, the stones
and workmen to construct it having been brought from Rome. The fine
stained-glass windows are chiefly modern. But the grand contemplation in
Westminster Abbey is the graves of the famous dead that have been
gathering there for nearly eight centuries. No temple in the world can
present anything like it. Wordsworth has written:

               ----"Be mine in hours of fear
  Or grovelling thought to find a refuge here,
  Or through the aisles of Westminster to roam,
  Where bubbles burst, and folly's dancing foam
  Melts if it cross the threshold--where the wreath
  Of awestruck wisdom droops."

[Illustration: KING HENRY VII.'S CHAPEL.]

Of the nine chapels surrounding the east end of the abbey, the most
interesting are those of Edward the Confessor, beyond the altar, and of
Henry VII., at the extreme eastern end. The shrine of King Edward above
referred to occupies the centre of his chapel, and was formerly richly
inlaid with mosaics and precious stones, which, however, have been
carried off. Henry VII.'s Chapel is a fine specimen of the architecture
of his time, and the monuments of Queens Elizabeth and Mary of Scotland
are in the north and south aisles. In the south transept is the Poets'
Corner, with monuments to all the great poets, and here, as well as in
nave and choir and the north transept, are monuments of hundreds of
illustrious Englishmen. In making these burials there is a sort of
method observed. Chaucer's interment in the Poets' Corner in 1400 led
the south transept to be devoted to literary men. The north transept is
devoted to statesmen, the first distinguished burial there being the
elder Pitt in 1778. The organ is on the north side of the nave, and here
the eminent musicians repose. In the side chapels the chief nobles are
buried, and in the chancel and its adjoining chapels the sovereigns.
Isaac Newton in 1727 was the first scientist buried in the nave, and
that part has since been devoted to scientific men and philanthropists.
Probably the finest tomb in the abbey is that of the elder Pitt, which
bears the inscription, "Erected by the King and Parliament as a
testimony to the virtues and ability of William Pitt, Earl of Chatham,
during whose administration, in the reigns of George II. and George
III., Divine Providence exalted Great Britain to a height of prosperity
and glory unknown to any former age." One of the finest of the
stained-glass windows in the nave is the double memorial window in
memory of the poets Herbert and Cowper, erected by an American, George
W. Childs. George III. and the British sovereigns since his reign have
their tombs at Windsor, preferring that noble castle for their last

Upon the east side of the abbey is St. Margaret's, the special church of
the House of Commons. Its east window contains the celebrated
stained-glass representation of the Crucifixion, painted in Holland,
which General Monk buried to keep the Puritans from destroying. Sir
Walter Raleigh is entombed here, and an American subscription has placed
a stained-glass window in the church to his memory, inscribed with these
lines by James Russell Lowell:

  "The New World's sons, from England's breasts we drew
    Such milk as bids remember whence we came.
  Proud of her past, wherefrom our present grew,
    This window we inscribe with Raleigh's name."


On the northern bank of the Thames, standing in a somewhat elevated
position a short distance east of the ancient city-walls, is the
collection of buildings known as the Tower. The enclosure covers about
twelve acres, encircled by a moat now drained, and a battlemented wall
from which towers rise at intervals. Within is another line of walls
with towers, called the Inner Ballium, having various buildings
interspersed. In the enclosed space, rising high above all its
surroundings, is the great square White Tower, which was the keep of the
old fortress. Tradition assigns a very early date to this stronghold,
but the written records do not go back earlier than William the
Conqueror, who built the White Tower about 1078. It was enlarged and
strengthened by subsequent kings, and Stephen kept his court there in
the twelfth century. The moat was made about 1190. Edward II.'s daughter
was born there, and was known as Joan of the Tower. Edward III.
imprisoned Kings David of Scotland and John of France there. Richard II.
in Wat Tyler's rebellion took refuge in the Tower with his court and
nobles, numbering six hundred persons, and in 1399 was imprisoned there
and deposed. Edward IV. kept a splendid court in the Tower, and Henry
VI., after being twice a prisoner there, died in the Tower in 1471.
There also was the Duke of Clarence drowned in a butt of Malmsey wine,
and the two youthful princes, Edward V. and his brother, were murdered
at the instance of Richard III. Henry VII. made the Tower often his
residence. Henry VIII. received there in state all his wives before
their marriages, and two of them, Anne Boleyn and Catharine Howard, were
beheaded there. Here the Protector Somerset, and afterwards Lady Jane
Grey, were beheaded. The princess Elizabeth was imprisoned in the Tower,
and James I. was the last English sovereign who lived there. The palace,
having become ruinous, was ultimately taken down. The Tower during the
eight hundred years it has existed has contained a legion of famous
prisoners, and within its precincts Chaucer, who held an office there in
Richard II.'s reign, composed his poem _The Testament of Love_, and Sir
Walter Raleigh wrote his _History of the World_.


The "Yeomen of the Guard," a corps of forty-eight warders, who are
meritorious soldiers, dressed in the uniform of Henry VIII.'s reign on
state occasions, and at other times wearing black velvet hats and
dark-blue tunics, have charge of the exhibition of the Tower. The
entrance is in a small building on the western side, where years ago the
lions were kept, though they have since been all sent to the London
Zoological Garden. From this originated the phrase "going to see the
lions." At the centre of the river-front is the "Traitor's Gate,"
through which persons charged with high treason were formerly taken into
the Tower. It is a square building erected over the moat, and now
contains a steam pumping-engine. Opposite it is the Bloody Tower, where
the young princes were smothered and where Raleigh was confined.
Adjoining is the Wakefield Tower, with walls thirteen feet thick.
Passing through the Bloody Tower gateway to the interior enclosure, a
large number of curious guns are seen, and the Horse Armory at the base
of the White Tower is filled with specimens of ancient armor
artistically arranged. In this collection the systems of armor can be
traced from the time of Edward I. to that of James II., and there are
suits that were worn by several famous kings and warriors. Above, in
Queen Elizabeth's Armory, is more armor, and also trophies of Waterloo
and other battles, and a collection of every kind of weapon in the
Tower. There are also specimens of instruments of torture and many other
curiosities on exhibition.


The White Tower, which has walls fourteen feet thick in some parts,
covers a space one hundred and sixteen by ninety-six feet, and is
ninety-two feet high, with turrets at the angles. Each floor is divided
into three rooms, with stone partitions seven feet thick. On the second
floor is St. John's Chapel, and on the third the council-chamber of the
early kings, with a dark, massive timber roof; in this chamber Richard
II. resigned his crown; it is now filled with a vast collection of arms.
The Salt Tower, which is at an angle of the enclosure, was formerly a
prison; and in another part of the grounds is the Jewel House, where the
crown jewels are kept; they are in a glass case, protected by an iron
cage, and the house was built for them in 1842. Queen Victoria's state
crown, made in 1838, after her coronation, is the chief. It consists of
diamonds, pearls, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds set in silver and
gold, and has a crimson velvet cap with carmine border, lined with white
silk. It contains the famous ruby given to Edward the Black Prince by
the King of Castile, and which is surrounded by diamonds forming a
Maltese cross. The jewels in this crown are one large ruby, one large
sapphire, sixteen other sapphires, eleven emeralds, four rubies, one
thousand three hundred and sixty-three brilliant diamonds, one thousand
two hundred and seventy-three rose diamonds, one hundred and forty-seven
table diamonds, and two hundred and seventy-seven pearls. Among the
other crowns is St. Edward's crown, of gold embellished with diamonds,
used at all coronations, when it is placed upon the sovereign's head by
the Archbishop of Canterbury. This crown was stolen from the Tower by
Blood in 1761. There are also the Prince of Wales' crown, the queen's
crown, the queen's diadem, St. Edward's Staff, four feet seven inches
long, made of beaten gold and surmounted by an orb said to contain part
of the true cross, and carried before the sovereign at coronation; the
royal sceptre (surmounted by a cross), which the archbishop places in
the sovereign's right hand at coronation; the rod of equity (surmounted
by a dove), which he places in the left hand; several other sceptres;
the pointless sword of Mercy, the swords of Justice, and the sacred
vessels used at coronation. Here is also the famous Koh-i-noor diamond,
the "Mountain of Light," which was taken at Lahore in India. The ancient
Martin or Jewel Tower, where Anne Boleyn was imprisoned, is near by; the
barracks are on the north side of the Tower, and behind them are the
Brick and Bowyer Towers, in the former of which Lady Jane Grey was
imprisoned, and in the latter the Duke of Clarence was drowned; but only
the basements of the old towers remain. The Tower Chapel, or church of
St. Peter's, was used for the cemetery of the distinguished prisoners
who were beheaded there, and in its little graveyard lie scores of
headless corpses, as well as the remains of several constables of the
Tower. In front of it was the place of execution, marked by an oval of
dark stones. The Beauchamp Tower stands at the middle of the west side
of the fortress, built in the thirteenth century and used as a prison;
there are numerous inscriptions and devices on the walls made by the
prisoners. Here Lady Jane Grey's husband carved in antique letters
"Iane." In the Bell Tower, at the south-western angle, the princess
Elizabeth was confined, and in the present century it was the prison of
Sir Francis Burdett, committed for commenting in print on the
proceedings of the House of Commons. The Tower Subway is a tunnel
constructed recently under the Thames from Tower Hill to Tooley Street
for passenger traffic. The Duke of Wellington was constable of the Tower
at one time, and its barracks are sometimes occupied by as many as eight
thousand troops. This ancient fortress always has a profound interest
for visitors, and no part of it more than the Water-Gate, leading from
the Thames, the noted "Traitor's Gate," through which have gone so many
victims of despotism and tyranny--heroes who have passed

  "On through that gate, through which before
  Went Sydney, Russell, Raleigh, Cranmer, More."



The Archbishop of Canterbury, the primate of England, who crowns the
sovereigns, has his palace at Lambeth, on the south side of the Thames,
opposite Westminster, and its most noted portion is the Lollards' Tower.
The Lollards, named from their low tone of singing at interments, were a
numerous sect exerting great influence in the fourteenth century. The
Church persecuted them, and many suffered death, and their prison was
the Lollards' Tower, built in 1435, adjoining the archiepiscopal palace.
This prison is reached by a narrow stairway, and at the entrance is a
small doorway barely sufficient for one person to pass at a time. The
palace itself was built in the days of the Tudors, and the gatehouse of
red brick in 1499. The chapel is Early English, its oldest portion built
in the thirteenth century. All the Archbishops of Canterbury since that
time have been consecrated there. There is a great hall and library, and
the history of this famous religious palace is most interesting. At the
red brick gatehouse the dole is distributed by the archbishop, as from
time immemorial, to the indigent parishioners. Thirty poor widows on
three days of the week each get a loaf, meat, and two and a half pence,
while soup is also given them and to other poor persons. The archbishops
maintain this charity carefully, and their office is the head of the
Anglican Church.

[Illustration: ST. MARY-LE-BOW.]

[Illustration: ST. BRIDE'S, FLEET STREET.]

Bow Church, or St. Mary-le-Bow on Cheapside, is one of the best known
churches of London. It is surmounted by one of the most admired of
Wren's spires, which is two hundred and twenty-five feet high. There is
a dragon upon the spire nearly nine feet long. It is the sure criterion
of a London Cockney to have been born within sound of "Bow Bells." A
church stood here in very early times, said to have been built upon
arches, from which is derived the name of the Ecclesiastical Court of
Arches, the supreme court of the province of Canterbury, a tribunal
first held in Bow Church. Another of Wren's noted churches is St.
Bride's, on Fleet Street, remarkable for its beautiful steeple,
originally two hundred and thirty-four feet high. It has been much
damaged by lightning. The east window of St. Bride's is a copy on
stained glass of Rubens' painting of "The Descent from the Cross." This
church contains several famous tombs.



We will now take a brief view of Westminster, the region of palaces, and
first of all pause at the most ancient and famous of them, Whitehall, of
which only the Banqueting House remains. This was originally the
residence of the Archbishops of York, and here lived Cardinal Wolsey in
great splendor until his downfall, when Henry VIII. took Whitehall for
his palace and made large additions to the buildings, entering it as a
residence with his queen, Anne Boleyn. The sovereigns of England lived
in Whitehall for nearly two centuries, and in Charles I.'s reign it
contained the finest picture-gallery in the kingdom. This unhappy king
was beheaded in front of the Banqueting House, being led to the
scaffold out of one of the windows. James II. left Whitehall when he
abandoned the kingdom, and accidental fires in the closing years of the
seventeenth century consumed the greater part of the buildings. The
Banqueting House, which is one hundred and eleven feet long and a fine
structure of Portland stone, is all that remains, and it is now used as
a royal chapel, where one of the queen's chaplains preaches every
Sunday. Rubens' paintings commemorating King James I. are still on the


In the district of Whitehall is also the army headquarters and office of
the commander-in-chief, the Duke of Cambridge--now known popularly as
the "Horse Guards," because in front of it two mounted horsemen stand on
duty all day in horse-boxes on either side of the entrance. The clock
surmounting the building in its central tower is said to be the standard
timekeeper of London for the West End. A carriage-way leads through the
centre of the building to St. James Park, a route which only the royal
family are permitted to use. Not far away are the other government
offices--the Admiralty Building and also "Downing Street," where resides
the premier and where the secretaries of state have their offices and
the Cabinet meets. Here are the Treasury Building and the Foreign
Office, and from this spot England may be said to be ruled. In this
neighborhood also is Scotland Yard, the headquarters of the London
Metropolitan Police, where the chief commissioner sits and where lost
articles are restored to their owners when found in cabs or
omnibuses--an important branch of police duty. It obtained its name from
being the residence of the Scottish kings when they visited London.



When the palace in Whitehall was destroyed the sovereigns made their
residence chiefly at St. James Palace, which stands on the north side of
St. James Park. This building is more remarkable for its historical
associations than for its architecture. It was originally a leper's
hospital, but Henry VIII., obtaining possession of it, pulled down the
old buildings and laid out an extensive park, using it as a semi-rural
residence called the Manor House. Its gatehouse and turrets were built
for him from plans by Holbein. Queen Mary died in it, and in its chapel
Charles I. attended service on the morning of his execution, and we are
told that he walked from the palace through the park, guarded by a
regiment of troops, to Whitehall to be beheaded. Here lived General Monk
when he planned the Restoration, and William III. first received the
allegiance of the English nobles here in 1688, but it was not used
regularly for state ceremonies until Whitehall was burned. From this
official use of St. James Palace comes the title of "The Court of St.
James." Queen Anne, the four Georges, and William III. resided in the
palace, and in its chapel Queen Victoria was married, but she only holds
court drawing-rooms and levees there, using Buckingham Palace for her
residence. Passing through the gateway into the quadrangle, the visitor
enters the Color Court, so called from the colors of the household
regiment on duty being placed there. The state apartments are on the
south front. The great sight of St. James is the queen's drawing-room in
the height of the season, when presentations are made at court. On such
occasions the "Yeomen of the Guard," a body instituted by Henry VII.,
line the chamber, and the "Gentlemen-at-Arms," instituted by Henry
VIII., are also on duty, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold and
carrying small battle-axes covered with crimson velvet. Each body has a
captain, who is a nobleman, these offices being highly prized and
usually changed with the ministry.



We have been to the queen's country-home at Windsor, and will now visit
her town-house, Buckingham Palace, which is also in St. James Park. Here
stood a plain brick mansion, built in 1703 by the Duke of Buckingham,
and in which was gathered the famous library of George III., which is
now in the British Museum. The house was described as "dull, dowdy, and
decent," but in 1825 it was greatly enlarged and improved, and Queen
Victoria took possession of the new palace in 1837, and has lived there
ever since. Her increasing family necessitated the construction of a
large addition in 1846, and a few years afterwards the Marble Arch,
which till then formed the entrance, was moved from Buckingham Palace to
Hyde Park, and a fine ball-room constructed instead. This palace
contains a gorgeously-decorated throne-room and a fine picture-gallery,
the grand staircase leading up to the state-apartments being of marble.
The gardens of Buckingham Palace cover about forty acres: in them are a
pavilion and an attractive chapel, the latter having been formerly a
conservatory. At the rear of the palace, concealed from view by a high
mound, are the queen's stables or mews, so called because the royal
stables were formerly built in a place used for keeping falcons. In
these stables is the gaudily-decorated state coach, built in 1762 at a
cost of $38,000. Marlborough House, the town-residence of the Prince of
Wales, adjoins St. James Palace, but is not very attractive. It was
originally built for the first Duke of Marlborough, who died in it, and
is said to have been designed by Wren, having afterwards been enlarged
when it became a royal residence.




Standing on the west side of the Kensington Gardens is the plain,
irregular red brick structure known as Kensington Palace, which was
originally Lord Chancellor Finch's house. William III bought it from his
grandson, and greatly enlarged it. Here died William and Mary, Queen
Anne, and George II., and here Victoria was born. Perhaps the most
interesting recent event that Kensington Palace has witnessed was the
notification to this princess of the death of William IV. He died on the
night of June 19, 1837, and at two o'clock the next morning the
Archbishop of Canterbury and the lord chamberlain set out to announce
the event to the young sovereign. They reached Kensington Palace about
five o'clock, early, but in broad daylight, and they knocked and rang
and made a commotion for a considerable time before they could arouse
the porter at the gate. Being admitted, they were kept waiting in the
courtyard, and then, seeming to be forgotten by everybody, they turned
into a lower room and again rang and pounded. Servants appearing, they
desired that an attendant might be sent to inform the princess that they
requested an audience on business of importance. Then there was more
delay, and another ringing to learn the cause, which ultimately brought
the attendant, who stated that the princess was in such a sweet sleep
she could not venture to disturb her. Thoroughly vexed, they said, "We
are come to the queen on business of state, and even her sleep must give
way to that." This produced a speedy result, for, to prove that it was
not she who kept them waiting, Victoria in a few minutes came into the
room in a loose white nightgown and shawl, with her hair falling upon
her shoulders and her feet in slippers, shedding tears, but perfectly
collected. She immediately summoned her council at Kensington Palace,
but most of the summonses were not received by those to whom they were
sent till after the early hour fixed for the meeting. She sat at the
head of the table, and, as a lady who was then at court writes, "she
received first the homage of the Duke of Cumberland, who was not King of
Hanover when he knelt to her; the Duke of Sussex rose to perform the
same ceremony, but the queen with admirable grace stood up, and,
preventing him from kneeling, kissed him on the forehead. The crowd was
so great, the arrangements were so ill made, that my brothers told me
the scene of swearing allegiance to their young sovereign was more like
that of the bidding at an auction than anything else."




The finest of all the public buildings of the British government in
London, the Houses of Parliament, are on the bank of the Thames in
Westminster, and are of modern construction. The old Parliament Houses
were burnt nearly fifty years ago, and Sir Charles Barry designed the
present magnificent palace, which covers nearly eight acres and cost
$20,000,000. The architecture is in the Tudor style, and the grand
façade stretches nine hundred and forty feet along a terrace fronting on
the Thames. It is richly decorated with statues of kings and queens and
heraldic devices, and has two pinnacled towers at each end and two in
the centre. At the northern end one of the finest bridges across the
Thames--the Westminster Bridge--is built, and here rises the Clock
Tower, forty feet square and three hundred and twenty feet high, copied
in great measure from a similar tower at Bruges. A splendid clock and
bells are in the tower, the largest bell, which strikes the hours,
weighing eight tons and the clock-dials being thirty feet in diameter.
The grandest feature of this palace, however, is the Victoria Tower, at
the south-western angle, eighty feet square and three hundred and forty
feet high. Here is the sovereign's entrance to the House of Peers,
through a magnificent archway sixty-five feet high and having inside the
porch statues of the patron saints of the three kingdoms--St. George,
St. Andrew, and St. Patrick--and one of Queen Victoria, between the
figures of Justice and Mercy. From the centre of the palace rises a
spire over the dome of the Central Hall three hundred feet high. In
constructing the palace the old Westminster Hall has been retained, so
that it forms a grand public entrance, leading through St. Stephen's
Porch to St. Stephen's Hall, which is ninety-five feet long and
fifty-six feet high, where statues have been placed of many of the great
statesmen and judges of England. From this a passage leads to the
Central Hall, an octagonal chamber seventy feet across and seventy-five
feet high, with a beautiful groined roof. Corridors adorned with
frescoes stretch north and south from this Central Hall to the House of
Commons and the House of Peers. The former is sixty-two feet long, and
constructed with especial attention to acoustics, but it only has seats
for a little over two-thirds of the membership of the House, and the
others must manage as they can. The Speaker's chair is at the north end,
and the ministers sit on his right hand and the opposition on the left.
Outside the House are the lobbies, where the members go on a division.
The interior of the House is plain, excepting the ceiling, which is
richly decorated. The House of Peers is most gorgeously ornamented,
having on either side six lofty stained-glass windows with portraits of
sovereigns, these windows being lighted at night from the outside. The
room is ninety-one feet long, and at each end has three frescoed
archways representing religious and allegorical subjects. Niches in the
walls contain statues of the barons who compelled King John to sign
Magna Charta. There are heraldic devices on the ceilings and walls, and
the throne stands at the southern end. The "Woolsack," where sits the
lord chancellor, who presides over the House, is a seat near the middle
of the room, covered with crimson cloth. When the sovereign comes to the
palace and enters the gateway at the Victoria Tower, she is ushered into
the Norman Porch, containing statues and frescoes representing the
Norman sovereigns, and then enters the Robing Room, splendidly decorated
and having frescoes representing the legends of King Arthur. When the
ceremony of robing is completed, she proceeds to the House of Peers
through the longest room in the palace, the Victoria Gallery, one
hundred and ten feet long and forty-five feet wide and high. Historical
frescoes adorn the walls and the ceiling is richly gilded. This gallery
leads to the Prince's Chamber, also splendidly decorated, and having two
doorways opening into the House of Peers, one on each side of the
throne. In this palace for six months in every year the British
Parliament meets.



[Illustration: THE ALBERT MEMORIAL.]


When the Marble Arch was taken from Buckingham Palace, it was removed to
Hyde Park, of which it forms one of the chief entrances at Cumberland
Gate. This magnificent gate, which cost $400,000, leads into probably
the best known of the London parks, the ancient manor of Hyde. It was an
early resort of fashion, for the Puritans in their time complained of it
as the resort of "most shameful powdered-hair men and painted women." It
covers about three hundred and ninety acres, and has a pretty sheet of
water called the Serpentine. The fashionable drive is on the southern
side, and here also is the famous road for equestrians known as Rotten
Row, which stretches nearly a mile and a half. On a fine afternoon in
the season the display on these roads is grand. In Hyde Park are held
the great military reviews and the mass-meetings of the populace, who
occasionally display their discontent by battering down the railings. At
Hyde Park Corner is a fine entrance-gate, with the Green Park Gate
opposite, surmounted by the Wellington bronze equestrian statue. The
most magnificent decoration of Hyde Park is the Albert Memorial,
situated near the Prince's Gate on the southern side. The upper portion
is a cross, supported by three successive tiers of emblematic gilt
figures, and at the four angles are noble groups representing the four
quarters of the globe. This was the masterpiece of Sir Gilbert Scott,
and is considered the most splendid monument of modern times. It marks
the site of the Crystal Palace Exhibition of 1851, in which Prince
Albert took great interest: there are upon it one hundred and sixty-nine
life-size portrait figures of illustrious artists, composers, and poets,
while under the grand canopy in the centre is the seated figure of the
prince. Opposite is the Royal Albert Hall, and behind this the
magnificent buildings of the South Kensington Museum, which grew out of
the Exhibition of 1851, and the site for which was bought with the
surplus fund of that great display. This is a national museum for art
and manufactures allied to art. Its collections are becoming enormous
and of priceless value, and include many fine paintings, among them
Raphael's cartoons, with galleries of sculpture and antiquities and
museums of patent models. There are art-schools and libraries, and the
buildings, which have been constructing for several years, are of rare
architectural merit. The Royal Albert Hall is a vast amphitheatre of
great magnificence devoted to exhibitions of industry, art, and music.
It is of oval form, and its external frieze and cornice are modelled
after the Elgin Marbles. Opposite it are the gardens of the
Horticultural Society.


[Illustration: ROYAL EXCHANGE.]

[Illustration: BANK OF ENGLAND.]

[Illustration: MANSION HOUSE.]

Going down into the heart of the old city of London, and standing in the
street called the Poultry, the Bank of England and the Royal Exchange
are seen over on the other side, with Threadneedle Street between them,
and Lombard Street on the right hand, the region that controls the
monetary affairs of the world. Turning round, the Mansion House is
behind the observer, this being the lord mayor's residence and the
head-quarters of the city government. The Royal Exchange has been thrice
built and twice burned--first in the great fire of 1666, and afterwards
in 1838. The present Exchange, costing $900,000, was opened in 1844, and
is three hundred and eight feet long, with a fine portico on the western
front ninety-six feet wide, and supported by twelve columns, each
forty-one feet high. Within is an open area surrounded by an arcade,
while at the rear is Lloyds, the underwriters' offices, where the
business of insuring ships is transacted in a hall ninety-eight feet
long and forty feet wide. Wellington's statue stands in front of the
Exchange, and in the middle of the central area is a statue of Queen
Victoria. The Bank of England, otherwise known as the "Old Lady of
Threadneedle Street," covers a quadrangular space of about four acres,
with a street on each side. It is but one story high, and has no windows
on the outside, the architecture being unattractive. The interior is
well adapted for the bank offices, which are constructed around nine
courts. The bank has been built in bits, and gradually assumed its
present size and appearance. It was founded in 1691 by William Paterson,
but it did not remove to its present site until 1734. Its affairs are
controlled by a governor, deputy governor, and twenty-four directors,
and the bank shares of $500 par, paying about ten per cent. dividends
per annum, sell at about $1400. It regulates the discount rate, gauging
it so as to maintain its gold reserves, and it also keeps the coinage in
good order by weighing every coin that passes through the bank, and
casting out the light ones by an ingenious machine that will test
thirty-five thousand in a day. It also prints its own notes upon paper
containing its own water-mark, which is the chief reliance against
forgery. The bank transacts the government business in connection with
the British public debt of about $3,850,000,000, all in registered
stock, and requiring two hundred and fifty thousand separate accounts to
be kept. Its deposits aggregate at least $130,000,000, and its capital
is $72,765,000. The bank is the great British storehouse for gold,
keeping on deposit the reserves of the joint-stock banks and the private
bankers of London, and it will have in its vaults at one time eighty to
one hundred millions of dollars in gold in ingots, bullion, or coin,
this being the basis on which the entire banking system of England is
conducted. It keeps an accurate history of every bank-note that is
issued, redeeming each note that comes back into the bank in the course
of business, and keeping all the redeemed and cancelled notes. The
earliest notes were written with a pen, and from this they have been
improved until they have become the almost square white pieces of paper
of to-day, printed in bold German text, that are so well known, yet are
unlike any other bank-notes in existence. Around the large elliptical
table in the bank parlor the directors meet every Thursday to regulate
its affairs, and--not forgetting they are true Englishmen--eat a savory
dinner, the windows of the parlor looking out upon a little gem of a
garden in the very heart of London. The Mansion House, built in 1740, is
fronted by a Corinthian portico, with six fluted columns and a pediment
of allegorical sculpture. Within is the Egyptian Hall, where the lord
mayor fulfils what is generally regarded as his chief duty, the giving
of grand banquets. He can invite four hundred persons to the tables in
this spacious hall, which is ornamented by several statues by British
sculptors, over $40,000 having been expended for its ornamentation. The
lord mayor also has a ball-room and other apartments, including his
Venetian parlor and the justice room where he sits as a magistrate. From
the open space in front of the Mansion House diverge streets running to
all parts of London and the great bridges over the Thames.


The four Inns of Court in London have been described as the palladiums
of English liberty--the Inner Temple, Middle Temple, Lincoln's Inn, and
Gray's Inn. There are over three thousand barristers members of these
Inns, and the best known is probably Lincoln's Inn, which is named after
De Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, who died in 1312, and had his house on its
site, his device, the lion rampant, being adopted by the Inn. The
ancient gatehouse, which opens from Chancery Lane, is nearly four
hundred years old. The Inn has an old hall dating from 1506, and also a
fine modern hall, the Newcastle House, one hundred and twenty feet long,
built in Tudor style, with stained-glass windows and having life-size
figures of several eminent members in canopied niches. Here is Hogarth's
celebrated picture of "Paul before Felix." The Inn has a valuable
library, and among its members has counted More, Hale, Selden,
Mansfield, and Hardwicke.

[Illustration: THE LAW COURTS.]

Across Fleet Street, and between it and the Thames, is the Temple, a
lane dividing it into the Inner and the Middle Temple, while obstructing
Fleet Street there was the old Temple Bar, one of the ancient city
gates, which has recently been removed. The name is derived from the
Knights Templar, who existed here seven centuries ago; and they
afterwards gave the site to certain law-students who wished to live in
the suburbs away from the noise of the city. Here in seclusion, for the
gates were locked at night, the gentlemen of these societies in a bygone
age were famous for the masques and revels given in their halls. Kings
and judges attended them, and many were the plays and songs and dances
that then enlivened the dull routine of the law. The Inner Temple has
for its device a winged horse, and the Middle Temple a lamb. Some
satirist has written of these--

  "Their clients may infer from thence
    How just is their profession:
  The lamb sets forth their innocence,
    The horse their expedition."

Here is the old Templar Church of St. Mary, built in 1185 and enlarged
in 1240. Formerly, the lawyers waited for their clients in this ancient
church. During recent years England has erected magnificent buildings
for her law courts. The new Palace of Justice fronts about five hundred
feet on the Strand, near the site of Temple Bar, which was taken away
because it impeded the erection of the new courts, and they cover six
acres, with ample gardens back from the street, the wings extending
about five hundred feet northward around them. A fine clock-tower
surmounts the new courts. In this part of the Strand are many ancient
structures, above which the Palace of Justice grandly towers, and some
of them have quaint balconies overlooking the street.


While in old London the feasting that has had so much to do with the
municipal corporation cannot be forgotten, and on Bishopsgate Street we
find the scene of many of the famous public dinners, savory with
turtle-soup and whitebait--the London Tavern. Not far distant, and on
the same street, is Sir Paul Pindar's House, a quaint structure, now
falling into decay, that gives an excellent idea of mediæval domestic


Fronting upon Great Russell Street, to which various smaller streets
lead northward from Oxford Street, is that vast treasure-house of
knowledge whose renown is world-wide, the British Museum. The buildings
and their courtyards cover seven acres, and have cost nearly
$5,000,000 to construct. The front is three hundred and seventy feet
long, the entrance being under a grand portico supported by rows of
columns forty-five feet high. This vast museum originated from a
provision in the will of Sir Hans Sloane in the last century, who had
made a valuable collection and directed that it be sold to the
government for $100,000. Parliament, accepting the offer, in 1753
created the museum to take charge of this and some other collections.
The present site, then Montagu House, was selected for the museum, but
it was not until 1828 that the present buildings were begun, and they
have only recently been finished. The reading-room, the latest addition,
is the finest structure of its kind in the world, being a circular hall
one hundred and forty feet in diameter and covered with a dome one
hundred and six feet high. It cost $750,000, and its library is believed
to be the largest in the world, containing seven hundred thousand
volumes, and increasing at the rate of twenty thousand volumes annually.
Its collection of prints is also of rare value and vast extent, and by
far the finest in the world.


[Illustration: WATERLOO BRIDGE.]

[Illustration: SCHOMBERG HOUSE.]


Let us now take a brief glance at some well-known London sights. The two
great heroes who are commemorated in modern London are Wellington and
Nelson. Trafalgar Square commemorates Nelson's death and greatest
victory, the Nelson Column standing in the centre, with Landseer's
colossal lions reposing at its base. Passing eastward along the Strand,
beyond Charing Cross and Somerset House, we come to Wellington Street,
which leads to Waterloo Bridge across the Thames. This admirable
structure, the masterpiece of John Rennie, cost $5,000,000, and was
opened on the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo in 1817. It is of
granite, and with the approaches nearly a half mile long, crossing the
river upon nine arches, each of one hundred and twenty feet span.
Passing westward from Trafalgar Square, we enter Pall Mall, perhaps the
most striking of the London streets in point of architecture. Here are
club-houses and theatres, statues and columns, and the street swarms
with historical associations. On the south side are the Reform and
Carlton Clubs, the headquarters respectively of the Liberal and
Conservative parties, and a little beyond, on the same side, the row of
buildings of all sizes and shapes making up the War Office. Among them
is a quaint old Queen-Anne mansion of brick, with a curious pediment and
having many windows. This is Schomberg House, shorn of one wing, but
still retained among so much that is grand around it. Also in Pall Mall
is Foley's celebrated statue of Sidney Herbert, one of the most
impressive in London--the head drooped sadly and reflectively,
indicating that it is the image of a conscientious war-minister, who,
overweighted with the responsibility of his office, was cut off
prematurely. Although not one of the greatest men of England, Herbert's
fame will be better preserved by his finer statue than that of many men
who have filled a much larger space in her history. Marlborough House
has an entrance on Pall Mall, and adjoining its gate is the curious and
elaborately decorated building of the Beaconsfield Club. Over the
doorway the semicircular cornice does duty for a balcony for the
drawing-room windows above. The doorway itself is an imposing archway
strangely cut into segments, one forming a window and the other the


[Illustration: CAVENDISH SQUARE.]

[Illustration: THE "BELL" AT EDMONTON.]

London contains in the West End many squares surrounded by handsome
residences, among them probably the best known being Belgrave, Russell,
Bedford, Grosvenor, Hanover, and Cavendish Squares. Eaton Square is said
to be the largest of these, Grosvenor Square the most fashionable, and
Cavendish Square the most salubrious and best cultivated. The line of
streets leading by Oxford Street to the Marble Arch entrance to Hyde
Park is London's most fashionable route of city travel, and on Tottenham
Court Road, which starts northward from Oxford Street, is the "Bell Inn"
at Edmonton. It is not a very attractive house, but is interesting
because it was here that Johnny Gilpin and his worthy spouse should have
dined when that day of sad disasters came which Cowper has chronicled in
John Gilpin's famous ride. The old house has been much changed since
then, and is shorn of its balcony, but it has capacious gardens, and is
the resort to this day of London holiday-makers. It is commonly known
as "Gilpin's Bell," and a painting of the ride is proudly placed outside
the inn. Tottenham Court Road goes through Camden Town, and here at
Euston Square is the London terminus of the greatest railway in
England--the London and North-western Company. Large hotels adjoin the
station, and the Underground Railway comes into it alongside the
platform, thus giving easy access to all parts of the metropolis. This
railway is one of the wonders of the metropolis, and it has cost about
$3,250,000 per mile to construct. The original idea seems to have been
to connect the various stations of the railways leading out of town, and
to do this, and at the same time furnish means of rapid transit from the
heart of the city to the suburbs, the railway has been constructed in
the form of an irregular ellipse, running all around the city, yet kept
far within the built-up portions. It is a double track, with trains
running all around both ways, so that the passenger goes wherever he
wishes simply by following the circuit, while branch lines extend to the
West End beyond Paddington and Kensington. It is constructed not in a
continuous tunnel, for there are frequent open spaces, but on a general
level lower than that of the greater part of London, and the routes are
pursued without regard to the street-lines on the surface above, often
passing diagonally under blocks of houses. The construction has taxed
engineering skill to the utmost, for huge buildings have had to be
shored up, sewers diverted, and, at the stations, vast spaces burrowed
underground to get enough room. In this way London has solved its
rapid-transit problem, though it could be done only at enormous cost.
The metropolis, it will be seen, has no end of attractions, and for the
traveller's accommodation the ancient inns are rapidly giving place to
modern hotels. Among London's famous hostelries is the "Old Tabard Inn"
in the Borough, which will probably soon be swept away.

[Illustration: THE "OLD TABARD INN."]



To describe London, as we said before, would fill a volume, but space
forbids lingering longer, and we will pass out of the metropolis, after
devoting brief attention to one of its historical mansions, the
well-known Holland House. This fine old building of the time of James I.
stands upon high ground in the western suburbs of London, and its
history is interwoven with several generations of arts, politics, and
literature. The house is of red brick, embellished with turrets,
gable-ends, and mullioned windows. As its park has already been partly
cut up for building-lots, the end of the celebrated mansion itself is
believed to be not far off. Built in 1607, it descended to the first
Earl of Holland, whence its name. Surviving the Civil Wars, when Fairfax
used it for his head-quarters, it is noted that plays were privately
performed here in Cromwell's time. In 1716, Addison married the dowager
Countess of Holland and Warwick, and the estate passed to him, and he
died at Holland House in 1719, having addressed to his stepson, the
dissolute Earl of Warwick, the solemn words, "I have sent for you that
you may see how a Christian can die." Two years later the young earl
himself died. In 1762 the estate was sold to Henry Vassall Fox, Baron
Holland, the famous Whig, who died there in 1774. It is related that
during his last illness George Selwyn called and left his card. Selwyn
had a fondness for seeing dead bodies, and the dying lord remarked, "If
Mr. Selwyn calls again, show him up: if I am alive I shall be delighted
to see him, and if I am dead he would like to see me." He composed his
own epitaph: "Here lies Henry Vassall Fox, Lord Holland, etc., who was
drowned while sitting in his elbow-chair." He died in his elbow-chair,
of water in the chest. Charles James Fox was his second son, and passed
his early years at Holland House. Near the mansion, on the Kensington
Road, was the Adam and Eve Inn, where it is said that Sheridan, on his
way to and from Holland House, regularly stopped for a dram, and thus
ran up a long bill, which Lord Holland ultimately paid.



The house, built like half the letter H, is of red brick with stone
finishings, and in the Elizabethan style, with Dutch gardens of a later
date. Much of the old-time decorations and furniture remains. The
library, a long gallery, forms the eastern wing, and contains a valuable
collection, including many manuscripts and autographs. There are fine
pictures and sculptures, with old clocks, vases, cabinets, and carvings,
and also a celebrated collection of miniatures. For over two centuries
it was the favorite resort of wits and beauties, painters and poets,
scholars, philosophers, and statesmen. Lord Brougham says that in the
time of Vassall, Lord Holland, it was the meeting-place of the Whig
party, his liberal hospitality being a great attractive force, and
Macaulay writes that it can boast a greater number of inmates
distinguished in political and literary history than any other private
dwelling in England. After Vassall's death his nephew maintained the
reputation of Holland House, dying in 1840, when the estates descended
to his only son, the late Lord Holland, who also kept up the character
of the mansion. But now, however, the glory of the famous old house is
slowly departing, and has chiefly become a fragrant memory.



Eastward from London is the great park which the queen in May opened
with much pomp as a breathing-ground for the masses of that
densely-populated region, the east end of the metropolis--Epping Forest.
This beautiful enclosure originally consisted of nine thousand acres,
but encroachments reduced it to about one-third that size. Reclamations
were made, however, and the park now opened covers five thousand six
hundred acres--a magnificent pleasure-ground.


The river Thames, steadily gathering force after sweeping through London
past the docks, and receiving upon its capacious bosom the vast commerce
of all the world, encircles the Isle of Dogs (where Henry VIII. kept his
hounds) below the city, and at the southern extremity of the reach we
come to Greenwich. Here go many holiday-parties to the famous inns,
where they get the Greenwich fish-dinners and can look back at the great
city they have left. Here the ministry at the close of the session has
its annual whitebait dinner. Greenwich was the Roman Grenovicum and the
Saxon Green Town. Here encamped the Danes when they overran England in
the eleventh century, and their fleet was anchored in the Thames. It
became a royal residence in Edward I.'s time, and Henry IV. dated his
will at the manor of Greenwich. In 1437, Greenwich Castle was built
within a park, and its tower is now used for the Observatory. Humphrey,
Duke of Gloucester, then held Greenwich, and was the regent of England
during Henry VI.'s minority. He was assassinated by rivals in 1447, and
the manor reverted to the Crown. The palace was enlarged and
embellished, and Henry VIII. was born there in 1491. He greatly improved
the palace, and made it his favorite residence, Queen Elizabeth being
born there in 1533. King Edward VI. died at Greenwich in 1553, and
Elizabeth, enlarging the palace, kept a regular court there. It was her
favorite summer home, and the chronicler of the time, writing of a visit
to the place, says, in describing the ceremonial of Elizabeth's court,
that the presence-chamber was hung with rich tapestry, and the floor,
after the then fashion, was covered with rushes. At the door stood a
gentleman in velvet with a gold chain, who introduced persons of
distinction who came to wait upon the queen. A large number of high
officials waited for the queen to appear on her way to chapel.
Ultimately she came out, attended by a gorgeous escort. She is described
as sixty-five years old, very majestic, with an oblong face, fair but
wrinkled, small black, pleasant eyes, nose a little hooked, narrow lips,
and black teeth (caused by eating too much sugar). She wore false red
hair, and had a small crown on her head and rich pearl drops in her
ears, with a necklace of fine jewels falling upon her uncovered bosom.
Her air was stately, and her manner of speech mild and obliging. She
wore a white silk dress bordered with large pearls, and over it was a
black silk mantle embroidered with silver thread. Her long train was
borne by a marchioness. She spoke graciously to those whom she passed,
occasionally giving her right hand to a favored one to kiss. Whenever
she turned her face in going along everybody fell on their knees. The
ladies of the court following her were mostly dressed in white.
Reaching the ante-chapel, petitions were presented her, she receiving
them graciously, which caused cries of "Long live Queen Elizabeth!" She
answered, "I thank you, my good people," and then went into the service.


King James I. put a new front in the palace, and his queen laid the
foundation of the "House of Delight," which is now the central building
of the Naval Asylum. King Charles I. resided much at Greenwich, and
finished the "House of Delight," which was the most magnificently
furnished mansion then in England. King Charles II., finding the palace
decayed, for it had fallen into neglect during the Civil Wars, had it
taken down, and began the erection of a new palace, built of freestone.
In the time of William and Mary it became the Royal Naval Asylum, the
magnificent group of buildings now there being extensions of Charles
II.'s palace, while behind rises the Observatory, and beyond is the
foliage of the park. The asylum was opened in 1705, and consists of
quadrangular buildings enclosing a square. In the south-western building
is the Painted Hall, adorned with portraits of British naval heroes and
pictures of naval victories. The asylum supports about two thousand
seven hundred in-pensioners and six thousand out-pensioners, while it
has a school with eight hundred scholars. By a recent change the
in-pensioners are permitted to reside where they please, and it has
lately been converted into a medical hospital for wounded seamen. Its
income is about $750,000 yearly. The Greenwich Observatory, besides
being the centre whence longitude is reckoned, is also charged with the
regulation of time throughout the kingdom.


The Thames, which at London Bridge is eight hundred feet wide, becomes
one thousand feet wide at Greenwich, and then it pursues its crooked
course between uninteresting shores past Woolwich dockyard, where it is
a quarter of a mile wide, and on to Gravesend, where the width is half a
mile; then it broadens into an estuary which is eighteen miles wide at
the mouth. Almost the only thing that relieves the dull prospect along
the lower Thames is Shooter's Hill, behind Woolwich, which rises four
hundred and twelve feet. Gravesend, twenty-six miles below London Bridge
by the river, is the outer boundary of the port of London, and is the
head-quarters of the Royal Thames Yacht Club. Its long piers are the
first landing-place of foreign vessels. Gravesend is the head-quarters
for shrimps, its fishermen taking them in vast numbers and London
consuming a prodigious quantity. This fishing and custom-house town, for
it is a combination of both, has its streets filled with "tea-and


On the opposite bank of the Thames is Tilbury Fort, the noted fortress
that commands the navigation of the river and protects the entrance to
London. It dates from Charles II.'s time, fright from De Ruyter's Dutch
incursion up the Thames in 1667 having led the government to convert
Henry VIII.'s blockhouse that stood there into a strong fortification.
It was to Tilbury that Queen Elizabeth went when she defied the Spanish
Armada. Leicester put a bridge of boats across the river to obstruct the
passage, and gathered an army of eighteen thousand men on shore. Here
the queen made her bold speech of defiance, in which she said she knew
she had the body of but a weak and feeble woman, but she also had the
heart and stomach of a king, and rather than her realm should be invaded
and dishonor grow by her, she herself would take up arms. She had then,
all told, one hundred and thirty thousand soldiers and one hundred and
eighty-one war-vessels, but the elements conquered the "Invincible
Armada," barely one-third of it getting back to Spain.

Thus we have traced England's famous river from its source in the
Cotswolds until it falls into the North Sea at the mouth of the broad
estuary beyond Sheerness and the Nore. Knowing the tale of grandeur that
its banks unfold, Wordsworth's feelings can be understood as he halted
upon Westminster Bridge in the early morning and looked down the Thames
upon London: its mighty heart was still and its houses seemed asleep as
the tranquil scene inspired the great poet to write his sonnet:

  "Earth has not anything to show more fair;
    Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
    A sight so touching in its majesty:
  This city now doth like a garment wear
  The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
    Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
    Open unto the fields and to the sky;
  All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
  Never did sun more beautifully steep
    In his first splendor valley, rock, or hill;
  Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
    The river glideth at his own sweet will;
  Dear God! the very houses seem asleep,
    And all that mighty heart is lying still."



     Harrow--St. Albans--Verulam--Hatfield House--Lord
     Burleigh--Cassiobury--Knebworth--Great Bed of Ware--The river
     Cam--Audley End--Saffron Walden--Newport--Nell
     Gwynn--Littlebury--Winstanley--Harwich--Cambridge--Trinity and St.
     John's Colleges--Caius College--Trinity Hall--The Senate
     House--University Library--Clare College--Great St. Mary's
     Church--King's College--Corpus Christi College--St. Catharine's
     College--Queen's College--The Pitt Press--Pembroke
     College--Peterhouse--Fitzwilliam Museum--Hobson's Conduit--Downing
     College--Emmanuel College--Christ's College--Sidney-Sussex
     College--The Round Church--Magdalene College--Jesus
     College--Trumpington--The Fenland--Bury St. Edmunds--Hengrave
     Hall--Ely--Peterborough--Crowland Abbey--Guthlac--Norwich Castle
     and Cathedral--Stamford--Burghley House--George
     Forest--Robin Hood--The Dukeries--Thoresby Hall--Clumber
     Park--Welbeck Abbey--Newstead Abbey--Newark--Hull--William
     Abbey--The Strid--Ripon Cathedral--Fountains Abbey--Studley
     Royal--Fountains Hall--York--Eboracum--York Minster--Clifford's
     Tower--Castle Howard--Kirkham Priory--Flamborough
     Head--Scarborough--Whitby Abbey--Durham Cathedral and Castle--St.
     Cuthbert--The Venerable Bede--Battle of Neville's
     Castle--Newcastle-upon-Tyne--Hexham--Alnwick Castle--Hotspur and
     the Percies--St. Michael's Church--Hulne Priory--Ford
     Castle--Flodden Field--The Tweed--Berwick--Holy
     Isle--Lindisfarne--Bamborough--Grace Darling.


[Illustration: ST. ALBANS, FROM VERULAM.]

The railway running from London to Edinburgh, and on which the
celebrated fast train the "Flying Scotchman" travels between the two
capitals, is the longest in Britain. Its route northward from the
metropolis to the Scottish border, with occasional digressions, will
furnish many places of interest. On the outskirts of London, in the
north-western suburbs, is the well-known school founded three hundred
years ago by John Lyon at Harrow, standing on a hill two hundred feet
high. One of the most interesting towns north of London, for its
historical associations and antiquarian remains, is St. Albans in
Hertfordshire. Here, on the opposite slopes of a shelving valley, are
seen on the one hand the town that has clustered around the ancient
abbey of St. Albans, and on the other the ruins of the fortification of
Verulam, both relics of Roman power and magnificence. On this spot stood
the chief town of the Cassii, whose king, Cassivelaunus, vainly opposed
the inroads of Cæsar. Here the victorious Roman, after crossing the
Thames, besieged and finally overthrew the Britons. The traces of the
ancient earthworks are still plainly seen on the banks of the little
river Ver, and when the Romans got possession there arose the
flourishing town of Verulam, which existed until the British
warrior-queen. Boadicea, stung by the oppressions of her race, stormed
and captured the place and ruthlessly massacred its people. But her
triumph was short lived, for the Romans, gaining reinforcements,
recaptured the city. This was in the earlier days of the Christian era,
and at a time when Christian persecutions raged. There then lived in
Verulam a prominent man named Alban, a young Roman of good family. In
the year 303 a persecuted priest named Amphibalus threw himself upon the
mercy of Alban, and sought refuge in his house. The protection was
granted, and in a few days the exhortations of Amphibalus had converted
his protector to Christianity. The officials, getting word of
Amphibalus' whereabouts, sent a guard to arrest him, whereupon Alban
dismissed his guest secretly, and, wrapping himself in the priest's robe
and hood, awaited the soldiers. They seized him, and took him before the
magistrates, when the trick was discovered. He was given the alternative
of dying or sacrificing to the gods of Rome, but, preferring the crown
of martyrdom, after cruel torments he was led to his doom. He was to be
taken across the Ver to be beheaded, but miracles appeared. The stream,
which had been a-flood, quickly dried up, so that the multitude could
pass, and this so touched the executioner that he refused to strike the
blow and declared himself also a convert. The executioner's head was
quickly stricken off, and another headsman obtained. Alban meanwhile was
athirst, and at his prayer a spring broke from the ground for his
refreshment. The new executioner struck off Alban's head, but in doing
so his eyes dropped from their sockets. On the spot where Alban died the
abbey was afterwards built. His martyrdom did not save Amphibalus, who
was soon captured and put to death at Redburn, a few miles away, where
his relics were afterwards discovered and enshrined, like those of his
pupil, in the abbey.

[Illustration: OLD WALL AT VERULAM.]

[Illustration: MONASTERY GATE.]

[Illustration: THE TOWER OF THE ABBEY.]


The sacrifice of the protomartyr brought its fruits. Verulam became
Christian, and within a century was paying him the honors of a saint. In
the eighth century King Offa of Mercia, having treacherously murdered
King Ethelbert, became conscience-stricken, and to propitiate Heaven
founded the abbey. He built a Benedictine monastery, which was richly
endowed, and gradually attracted the town away from Verulam and over to
its present site. This monastery existed until the Norman Conquest, when
it was rebuilt, the ruins of Verulam serving as a quarry. Thus began the
great abbey of St. Albans, which still overlooks the Ver, although it
has been materially altered since. It prospered greatly, and the close
neighborhood to London brought many pilgrims as well as royal visits.
The abbots were invested with great powers and became dictatorial and
proud, having frequent contests with the townsfolk; and it is recorded
that one young man who applied for admission to the order, being refused
on account of his ignorance, went abroad and ultimately became Pope
Adrian IV. But he bore the abbot no ill-will, afterwards granting it
many favors. Cardinal Wolsey was once the abbot, but did not actively
govern it. In 1539 its downfall came, and it surrendered to King Henry
VIII. The deed of surrender, signed by thirty-nine monks, is still
preserved, and the seal is in the British Museum. The abbey is now in
ruins; the church and gateway remain, but the great group of buildings
that composed it has mostly disappeared, so that the old monastery is
almost as completely effaced as Verulam. But the church, by being bought
for $2000 for the St. Albans parish church, is still preserved, and is
one of the most interesting ecclesiastical structures in England; yet
its great length and massive central tower are rather unfavorable to its
picturesqueness, though the tower when seen from a distance impresses by
its grandeur and simplicity. In this tower, as well as in other parts of
the church, can be detected the ancient bricks from Verulam. The
ground-plan of St. Albans Church is a Latin cross, and it is five
hundred and forty-eight feet long. The western part was erected in the
twelfth, and the greater portion of the nave and choir in the thirteenth
century. The floor of the choir is almost paved with sepulchral slabs,
though of the two hundred monuments the church once contained barely a
dozen remain. At the back of the high altar was the great treasury of
the abbey, the shrine enclosing St. Alban's relics, but this was
destroyed at the Reformation: some fragments have been since discovered,
and the shrine thus reproduced with tolerable completeness. On the side
of the chapel is a wooden gallery, with cupboards beneath and a
staircase leading up to it. In the shrine and cupboards were the abbey
treasures, and in the gallery the monks kept watch at night lest they
should be despoiled. This vigilance, we are told, was necessary, for
rival abbeys were by no means scrupulous about the means by which they
augmented their stores of relics. This quaint gallery, still preserved,
is five hundred years old. Near the shrine is the tomb of Duke Humphrey
of Gloucester, brother of King Henry V. and regent during the minority
of Henry VI., who was assassinated at Windsor. The tomb was opened in
1703, and the skeleton found buried among spices and enclosed in two
coffins, the outer of lead. The vault remained opened, and visitors
purloined good Humphrey's bones till nearly all had disappeared, when
the authorities concluded it was better to close up the vault and save
what remained. The massive gatehouse, which still exists, was built in
Richard II.'s reign, and was used for a jail until not long ago they
determined to put a school there. In front of it the martyr Tankerfield
was burnt, and buried in 1555 in a little triangular graveyard which
still exists. Fox, in his _Book of Martyrs_, relates that he endured the
pain with great constancy, and testified to the last against the errors
of his persecutors.


[Illustration: CLOCK-TOWER, ST. ALBANS.]

[Illustration: BARNARD'S HEATH.]

In the town of St. Albans, near the abbey and at the junction of two
streets, stands the ancient clock-tower, built in the early part of the
fifteenth century, and mainly of flint. It occupies the site of an
earlier one said to have been erected by two ladies of Verulam, who,
wandering alone in the woods and becoming lost, saw a light in a house,
sought refuge there, and erected the tower on the site as a memorial of
their deliverance. The bell in this tower was in former days used to
ring the curfew. The town itself has little to show. In the church of
St. Peter, among the monumental brasses, is the one to a priest often
quoted, that reads:

  "Lo, all that here I spent, that some time had I;
  All that I gave in good intent, that now have I;
  That I neither gave nor lent, that now abie[A] I;
  That I kept till I went, that lost I."

Edward Strong, the mason who built St. Paul's Cathedral in London under
the direction of Wren, is also buried in this church. Its chief tenants,
however, are the slain at the second battle of St. Albans in the Wars of
the Roses. At the first of these battles, fought in 1455 on the east
side of the town, Henry of Lancaster was wounded and captured by the
Duke of York. The second battle, a much more important contest, was
fought on Shrove Tuesday, February 17, 1461, at Barnard's Heath, north
of the town, and near St. Peter's Church. Queen Margaret of Lancaster
led her forces in person, and was victorious over the Yorkists under the
Earl of Warwick, liberating the captive king, who was in the enemy's
camp, and following the battle by a ruthless execution of prisoners.
King Henry, who had gone to St. Alban's shrine in tribulation when
captured in the earlier contest, also went there again in thanksgiving
when thus liberated six years later. The town of St. Albans, by the
growth of time, has stretched across the Ver, and one straggling suburb
reaches into the north-western angle of the ruins of ancient Verulam,
where it clusters around the little church of St. Michael within the
Roman city. This is a plain church, built in patches, parts of it nearly
a thousand years old, and is the burial place of Francis Bacon, who was
Baron of Verulam and Viscount St. Albans. Within a niche on the side of
the chancel is his familiar effigy in marble, where he sits in an
arm-chair and contemplatively gazes upward. From these ruins of Verulam
is obtained the best view of St. Alban's Abbey, with the town in the
background, overlooked by its clock-tower.

[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL'S, VERULAM.]

[Footnote A: This word means _expiate_.]


A short distance east of St. Albans is Hatfield, and in a fine park in
the suburbs stands the magnificent mansion of the Marquis of
Salisbury--Hatfield House. The place is ancient, though the house is
completely modern. The manor was given by King Edgar to the monastery at
Ely, and, as in course of time the abbot became a bishop, the manor
afterwards became known as Bishops Hatfield, a name that it still bears.
The oldest portion of the present buildings was erected in the reign of
Henry VII., and in the time of his successor it passed into possession
of the Crown. Here lived young Edward VI., and he was escorted by the
Earl of Hertford and a cavalcade of noblemen from Hatfield to London for
his coronation. The youthful king granted Hatfield to his sister
Elizabeth, and here she was kept in Queen Mary's reign after her release
from the Tower. She was under the guardianship of Sir Thomas Pope when,
in November, 1558, Queen Mary died, and Sir William Cecil sent
messengers from London to apprise Elizabeth that the crown awaited her.
We are told that when they arrived the princess was found in the park,
sitting under a spreading oak--a noble tree then, but time has since
made sad havoc with it, though the remains are carefully preserved as
one of the most precious memorials at Hatfield. The family of Cecil,
thus introduced to Hatfield, was destined to continue associated with
its fortunes. Sir William came to the manor on the next day, and then
peers and courtiers of all ilks flocked thither to worship the rising
sun. On the following day the queen gave her first reception in the hall
and received the fealty of the leading men of every party; but she did
not forget Cecil, for her earliest act was to appoint him her chief
secretary, lord treasurer, and adviser--a tie that continued for forty
years and was only sundered by death. Cecil was afterwards made Lord
Burghley, and the confidence thus first reposed in him within the hall
that was afterwards to become the home of his descendants was most
remarkable. "No arts," writes Lord Macaulay, "could shake the confidence
which she reposed in her old and trusty servant. The courtly graces of
Leicester, the brilliant talents and accomplishments of Essex, touched
the fancy, perhaps the heart, of the woman, but no rival could deprive
the treasurer of the place which he possessed in the favor of the queen.
She sometimes chid him sharply, but he was the man whom she delighted to
honor. For Burghley she forgot her usual parsimony, both of wealth and
dignities; for Burghley she relaxed that severe etiquette to which she
was unreasonably attached. Every other person to whom she addressed her
speech, or on whom the glance of her eagle eye fell, instantly sank on
his knee. For Burghley alone a chair was set in her presence, and there
the old minister, by birth only a plain Lincolnshire esquire, took his
ease, while the haughty heirs of the Fitzalans and De Veres humbled
themselves to the dust around him. At length, having survived all his
early coadjutors and rivals, he died, full of years and honors."


[Illustration: HATFIELD HOUSE.]

But it was not until after his death that Hatfield came into possession
of his family. He built Burghley House near Stamford in Lincolnshire,
and left it to his younger son, Sir Robert Cecil. After Elizabeth's
death, King James I. expressed a preference for Burghley over Hatfield,
and an exchange was made by which Hatfield passed into possession of Sir
Robert, who had succeeded his father as chief minister, and, though in
weak health and of small stature, was a wise and faithful servant of the
queen and of her successor. In Elizabeth's last illness, when she
persisted in sitting propped up on a stool by pillows, he urged her to
rest herself, and inadvertently said she "must go to bed." The queen
fired up. "Must!" cried she. "Is _must_ a word to be addressed to
princes? Little man, little man, thy father if he had been alive durst
not have used that word." Sir Robert did not survive the queen many
years, and to him King James's peaceful succession to the throne is said
to have been greatly due. The king made him the Earl of Salisbury, and
the title descended for several generations, until, in 1773, the seventh
earl was promoted to the rank of marquis, and now Robert Cecil, the
third Marquis of Salisbury and one of the leaders of the Conservative
party, presides over the estates at Hatfield. The chief entrance to
Hatfield House is on the northern side, and above it rises a cupola. The
buildings form three sides of an oblong, the longer line fronting the
north and the two wings pointing towards the south. They are of brick,
with stone dressings and facings, and are admired as a faithful example
of the excellent domestic architecture of the early part of the
seventeenth century. The approach through the park from the town is of
great beauty, the grand avenue, bordered by stately trees, conducting
the visitor to a court in front of the house enclosed by a balustrade
with handsome gates. Within the building the most remarkable features
are the galleries, extending along the entire southern front. The
gallery on the ground floor was formerly a corridor, open on one side
to the air; but at a comparatively recent period this has been enclosed
with glass, and thus converted into a gallery paved with black and white
marble, and ornamented with arms and armor, some being trophies from the
Armada and others from the Crimea. Here is the rich saddle-cloth used on
the white steed that Queen Elizabeth rode at Tilbury. There are a fine
chapel and attractive state-apartments, but around the old house there
lingers a tale of sorrow. The western wing was burned in 1835, and the
dowager marchioness, the grandmother of the present marquis, then five
years old, perished in the flames, which originated in her chamber. This
wing has been finely restored, and the room in which she was burned
contains her portrait, an oval medallion let into the wall over the
fireplace. It is the sweet and sunny face of a young girl, and her
tragic fate in helpless age reminds of Solon's warning as we look at the
picture: "Count no one happy till he dies." In the gallery at Hatfield
are portraits of King Henry VIII. and all six of his wives. In the
library, which is rich in historical documents, is the pedigree of Queen
Elizabeth, emblazoned in 1559, and tracing her ancestry in a direct line
back to Adam! The state bedrooms have been occupied by King James,
Cromwell, and Queen Victoria. In the gardens, not far from the house, is
the site of the old episcopal palace of Bishops Hatfield, of which one
side remains standing, with the quaint gatehouse now used as an avenue
of approach up the hill from the town to the stables. There is a fine
view of the town through the ancient gateway. Here lived the princess
Elizabeth, and in the halls where kings have banqueted the marquis's
horses now munch their oats. Immediately below, in the town, is
Salisbury Chapel, in which repose the bones of his ancestors.


Also in Hertfordshire are Cassiobury, the seat of the Earls of Essex,
whose ancestor, Lord Capel, who was beheaded in 1648 for his loyalty to
King Charles I., brought the estate into the family by his marriage with
Elizabeth Morison; and Knebworth, the home of Lord Lytton the novelist,
which has been the home of his ancestors since the time of Henry VII.,
when it was bought by Sir Robert Lytton. The "Great Bed of Ware" is one
of the curiosities of the county--a vast bed twelve feet square,
originally at the Saracen's Head Inn. It was built for King Edward IV.,
and was curiously carved, and has had a distinguished place in English
literary allusions. The bed still exists at Rye House in Hertfordshire,
where it was removed a few years ago. A dozen people have slept in it at
the same time.




Journeying farther from London, and into the county of Essex, we come to
the little river Cam, and on the side of its valley, among the gentle
undulations of the Essex uplands, is seen the palace of Audley End, and
beyond it the village of Saffron Walden. Here in earlier times was the
abbey of Walden, which, when dissolved by Henry VIII., was granted to
Sir Thomas Audley, who then stood high in royal favor. But almost all
remains of this abbey have disappeared, and Sir Thomas, who was Speaker
of the House, got the grant because of his industry in promoting the
king's wishes for the dissolution of the religious houses, and was also
made Lord Audley of Walden. This, as Fuller tells us, was "a dainty
morsel, an excellent receipt to clear the Speaker's voice, and make him
speak clear and well for his master." But he did not live long to enjoy
it, although giving the estate his name, and it passed ultimately to the
Duke of Norfolk, after whose execution it became the property of his
son, Lord Thomas Howard, whom Queen Elizabeth made Baron Walden, and
King James appointed lord treasurer and promoted to be Earl of Suffolk.
He built the great palace of Audley End, which was intended to eclipse
every palace then existing in England. It was begun in 1603, and was
finished in 1616, the date still remaining upon one of the gateways.
King James twice visited Audley End while building, and is said to have
remarked, as he viewed its enormous proportions, that the house was too
large for a king, though it might do for a lord treasurer. It cost over
$1,000,000, but no accurate account was kept, and the earl was so
straitened by the outlay, that after being dismissed from office he was
compelled to sell out several other estates, and died nearly $200,000 in
debt. The second and third earls tried to maintain the white elephant,
but found it too heavy a burden, and the latter sold the house to King
Charles II. for $250,000, of which $100,000 remained on mortgage. It was
known as the New Palace, and became a royal residence. It consisted of a
large outer court and a smaller inner one. Around these the buildings
were constructed from one to three stories high, with towers at the
corners and centres of the fronts. The impression produced by the design
is said not to have been very favorable, it being insufficiently grand
for so vast a pile, and while it was a pleasant residence in summer, the
want of facilities for heating made it in winter little better than a
barn. When Pepys visited Audley End in 1660 and 1668, his chief
impression seems to have been of the cellars, for he writes: "Only the
gallery is good, and, above all things, the cellars, where we went down
and drank of much good liquor. And, indeed, the cellars are fine, and
here my wife and I did sing, to my great content." It was in the
following year that the house was sold to the king. In 1701, however, it
passed back to the fifth Earl of Suffolk, and about twenty years later a
large part of the structure was taken down. Three sides of the great
court, including the gallery referred to by Pepys, were demolished, and
Audley End was reduced to the buildings around the smaller quadrangle;
this was further reduced in 1749, so that the house assumed its present
appearance of three sides of a square, open towards the east, and thus
remains an excellent type of an early Jacobean mansion, its best view
being from the garden front. Within it has fine apartments, and contains
the only authentic portrait of George II. that is known. This king would
never sit for his picture, and the artist by stealth sketched his
likeness from a closet near the staircase of Kensington Palace, where he
had an excellent view of the peculiar monarch. It is, as Thackeray says,
the picture of a "red-faced, staring princeling," but is believed true
to nature nevertheless. Lady Suffolk, it seems, was one of his few
favorites. Audley End has been for a long time in possession of the
Barons of Braybrooke, and is their principal seat. Lord Cornwallis, of
American Revolutionary remembrance, was a member of this family, and his
portrait is preserved here.


1. Town-Hall. 2. Church. 3. Entrance to the Town.]

Over the undulating surface of the park, barely a mile away, can be seen
the pretty spire of Saffron Walden Church, with the village clustering
around it. Here on a hill stand the church and the castle, originally of
Walden, but from the extensive cultivation of saffron in the
neighborhood the town came to have that prefix given it; it was grown
there from the time of Edward III., and the ancient historian Fuller
quaintly tells us "it is a most admirable cordial, and under God I owe
my life, when sick with the small-pox, to the efficacy thereof." Fuller
goes on to tell us that "the sovereign power of genuine saffron is
plainly proved by the antipathy of the crocodile thereto; for the
crocodile's tears are never true save when he is forced where saffron
groweth, whence he hath his name of croco-deilos, or the saffron-fearer,
knowing himself to be all poison, and it all antidote." Saffron attained
its highest price at Walden in Charles II.'s time, when it was as high
as twenty dollars a pound, but its disuse in medicine caused its value
to diminish, and at the close of the last century its culture had
entirely disappeared from Walden, though the prefix still clings to the
name of the town. While saffron was declining, this neighborhood became
a great producer of truffles, and the dogs were trained here to hunt the
fungus that is so dear to the epicure's palate. The church of St. Mary,
which is a fine Perpendicular structure and the most conspicuous feature
of Saffron Walden, was built about four hundred years ago, though the
slender spire crowning its western tower is of later date, having been
built in the present century. In the church are buried the six Earls of
Suffolk who lived at Audley End, and all of whom died between 1709 and
1745. The ruins of the ancient castle, consisting chiefly of a portion
of the keep and some rough arches, are not far from the church, and
little is known of its origin. There is a museum near the ruins which
contains some interesting antiquities and a fine natural-history
collection. The newly-constructed town-hall, built in antique style,
overhanging the footway and supported on arches, is one of the most
interesting buildings in Saffron Walden: the mayor and corporation
meeting here date their charter from 1549. Not far away, at Newport,
lived Nell Gwynn in a modest cottage with a royal crown over the door.
She was one of the numerous mistresses of Charles II., and is said to
have been the only one who remained faithful to him. She bore him two
sons, one dying in childhood, and the other becoming the Duke of St.
Albans, a title created in 1684, and still continued in the persons of
his descendants of the family of Beauclerc. Nell was originally an
orange-girl who developed into a variety actress, and, fascinating the
king, he bought her from Lord Buckhurst, her lover, for an earldom and a
pension. Nell is said to have cost the king over $300,000 in four years.
She had her good qualities and was very popular in England, and she
persuaded the king to found Chelsea Hospital for disabled soldiers, and
he also bore her genuine affection, for his dying words were, "Let not
poor Nelly starve." She survived him about seven years. Also in the
neighborhood, at Littlebury, was the home of Winstanley, the builder of
the first Eddystone Lighthouse, who perished in it when it was destroyed
by a terrific storm in 1703.

[Illustration: JETTIES AT HARWICH.]

Digressing down to the coast of Essex, on the North Sea, we find at the
confluence of the Stour and Orwell the best harbor on that side of
England, bordered by the narrow and old-fashioned streets of the ancient
seaport of Harwich. Here vast fleets seek shelter in easterly gales
behind the breakwater that is run out from the Beacon Hill. From here
sail many steamers to Rotterdam and Antwerp in connection with the
railways from London, and the harbor-entrance is protected by the
ancient Languard Fort, built by James I. on a projecting spit of land
now joined to the Suffolk coast to the northward. One of the most
interesting scenes at Harwich is a group of old wrecks that has been
utilized for a series of jetties in connection with a shipbuilder's
yard. Weather-beaten and battered, they have been moored in a placid
haven, even though it be on the unpicturesque coast of Essex.


[Illustration: BRIDGE, ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE.]

Returning to the valley of the Cam, we will follow it down to the great
university city of Cambridge, fifty-eight miles north of London. It
stands in a wide and open valley, and is built on both banks of the
river, which is navigable up to this point, so that the town is
literally the "Bridge over the Cam." The situation is not so picturesque
or so favorable as that of the sister university city of Oxford, but it
is nevertheless an attractive city, the stately buildings being
admirably set off by groups and avenues of magnificent trees that
flourish nowhere to better advantage than in English scenery. The chief
colleges are ranged along the right bank of the Cam, with their fronts
away from the water, while behind each there is a sweep of deliciously
green meadowland known as the "Backs of the Colleges," surrounded by
trees, and with a leafy screen of foliage making the background beyond
the buildings. While the greater part of modern Cambridge is thus on the
right bank of the river, the oldest portion was located on a low plateau
forming the opposite shore. It is uncertain when the university was
first established there. Henry Beauclerc, the youngest son of William
the Conqueror, studied the arts and sciences at Cambridge, and when he
became king he bestowed many privileges upon the town and fixed a
regular ferry over the Cam. By the thirteenth century scholars had
assembled there and become a recognized body, according to writs issued
by Henry III. In 1270 the title of a university was formally bestowed,
and the oldest known collegiate foundation--Peterhouse, or St. Peter's
College--had been established a few years before. Cambridge has in all
seventeen colleges, and the present act of incorporation was granted by
Queen Elizabeth. The Duke of Devonshire is the chancellor. The student
graduates either "in Honors" or "in the Poll." In the former case he can
obtain a distinction in mathematics, classics, the sciences, theology,
etc. The names of the successful students are arranged in three classes
in a list called the Tripos, a name derived from the three-legged stool
whereon sat in former days one of the bachelors, who recited a set of
satirical verses at the time the degrees were conferred. In the
Mathematical Tripos the first class are called Wranglers, and the others
Senior and Junior Optimes. Thus graduate the "Dons" of Cambridge.


Let us now take a brief review of the seventeen colleges of Cambridge.
In Trinity Street is Trinity College, founded in 1546 by Henry VIII. It
consists of four quadrangular courts, the Great Court being the largest
quadrangle in the university, and entered from the street by the grand
entrance-tower known as the King's Gateway. On the northern side of the
quadrangle are the chapel and King Edward's Court, and in the centre of
the southern side the Queen's Tower, with a statue of Queen Mary. In the
centre of the quadrangle is a quaint conduit. The chapel is a plain
wainscoted room, with an ante-chapel filled with busts of former members
of the college--among them Bacon and Macaulay--and also a noble statue
of Newton. Trinity College Hall is one hundred feet long and the finest
in Cambridge, its walls being adorned with several portraits. It was in
Trinity that Byron, Dryden, Cowley, Herbert, and Tennyson were all
students. There are said to be few spectacles more impressive than the
choral service on Sunday evening in term-time, when Trinity Chapel is
crowded with surpliced students. In the Master's Lodge, on the western
side of the quadrangle, are the state-apartments where royalty is lodged
when visiting Cambridge, and here also in special apartments the judges
are housed when on circuit. Through screens or passages in the hall the
second quadrangle, Neville's Court, is entered, named for a master of
the college who died in 1615. Here is the library, an attractive
apartment supported on columns, which contains Newton's telescope and
some of his manuscripts, and also a statue of Byron. The King's (or New)
Court, is a modern addition, built in the present century at a cost of
$200,000. From this the College Walks open on the western side, the view
from the gateway looking down the long avenue of lime trees being
strikingly beautiful. The Master's Court is the fourth quadrangle.


Adjoining Trinity is its rival, St. John's College, also consisting of
four courts, though one of them is of modern construction and on the
opposite bank of the river. This college was founded by the countess
Margaret of Richmond, mother of Henry VII., and opened in 1516, having
been for three centuries previously a hospital. It is generally regarded
from this circumstance as being the oldest college at Cambridge. The
gateway is a tower of mingled brick and stone and one of the earliest
structures of the college. Entering it, on the opposite side of the
court is seen the New Chapel, but recently completed, a grand edifice
one hundred and seventy-two feet long and sixty-three feet high, with a
surmounting tower whose interior space is open and rises eighty-four
feet above the pavement. The roof and the windows are richly colored,
and variegated marbles have been employed in the interior decoration.
The eastern end is a five-sided apse; the ceiling is vaulted in oak,
while the chapel has a magnificent screen. Between the first and second
courts is the hall, recently enlarged and decorated, and the library is
on the northern side of the third court. It is a picturesque room of
James I.'s time, with a timbered roof, whitened walls, and carved oaken
bookcases black with age. The second court is of earlier date, and a
fine specimen of sixteenth-century brickwork. On the southern side is an
octagonal turret, at the top of which is the queer little room occupied
by Dr. Wood, whose statue is in the chapel. When he first came to
college from his humble home in the north of England he was so poor that
he studied by the light of the staircase candle, and wrapped his feet in
wisps of hay in winter to save the cost of a fire. He became the Senior
Wrangler, and in due course a Fellow, and ultimately master of the
college. To this was added the deanery of Ely. Dying, he bequeathed his
moderate fortune for the aid of poor students and the benefit of his
college. Of the third court the cloister on the western side fronts the
river. The New Court, across the Cam, is a handsome structure, faced
with stone and surmounted by a tower. A covered Gothic bridge leads to
it over the river from the older parts of the college. In the garden
along the river, known as the Wilderness, Prior the poet is said to have
laid out the walks. Here among the students who have taken recreation
have been Wordsworth and Herschel, Wilberforce and Stillingfleet.

[Illustration: ST. JOHN'S CHAPEL.]


It took two founders to establish Gonville and Caius College, and both
their names are preserved in the title, though it is best known as Caius
(pronounced Keys) College. Its buildings were ancient, but have been
greatly changed in the present century, so that the chief entrance is
now beneath a lofty tower, part of the New Court and fronting the Senate
House. This New Court is a fine building, ornamented with busts of the
most conspicuous men of Caius. Beyond is the smaller or Caius Court of
this college, constructed in the sixteenth century. The "Gate of Virtue
and Wisdom" connects them, and is surmounted by an odd turret. On the
other side is the "Gate of Honor," a good specimen of the Renaissance.
The "Gate of Humility" was removed in rebuilding the New Court. Thus did
this college give its students veritable sermons in stones. The founders
of Caius were physicians, and among its most eminent members were Hervey
and Jeremy Taylor. Adjoining Caius is Trinity Hall, as noted for the law
as its neighbor is for medicine, and immediately to the south is a group
of university buildings. Among these is the Senate House, opened in
1730, where the university degrees are conferred. It has a fine
interior, especially the ceiling, and among the statues is an impressive
one of the younger Pitt. The most exciting scene in the Senate House is
when the result of the mathematical examination is announced. This for a
long time was almost the only path to distinction at Cambridge. When all
are assembled upon a certain Friday morning in January, one of the
examiners stands up in the centre of the western gallery and just as the
clock strikes nine proclaims to the crowd the name of the "Senior
Wrangler," or first student of the year, with a result of deafening
cheers; then the remainder of the list is read. On the following day the
recipients of degrees and visitors sit on the lower benches, and the
undergraduates cram the galleries. Then with much pomp the favored
student is conducted to the vice-chancellor to receive his first degree
alone. The University Library is near by, and, as it gets a copy of
every book entered for English copyright, it has become a large one.
Some of the manuscripts it contains are very valuable, particularly the
_Codex Beza_, a manuscript of the Gospels given in 1581 by Beza.

Adjoining Trinity Hall is the beautiful court of Clare College, dating
from the time of the Civil Wars, when it replaced older structures. Its
exterior is most attractive to visitors, exhibiting the pleasing
architecture of the sixteenth century. The river-front is much admired,
while the gateway is marked by quaint lantern-like windows. In the
library is one of the rare Bibles of Sixtus V., and in the Master's
Lodge is kept the poison-cup of Clare, which is both curious and
beautiful. The gentle lady's mournful fate has been told by Scott in
_Marmion_. Tillotson and other famous divines were students at Clare,
and the college also claims Chaucer, but this is doubtful, though the
college figures in his story of the "Miller of Trumpington," and also
adjuts upon Trumpington Street. Upon the opposite side of this street is
Great St. Mary's Church, the university church, an attractive building
of Perpendicular architecture and having fine chimes of bells. Here the
vice chancellor listens to a sermon every Sunday afternoon in term-time.
Formerly, on these occasions, the "heads and doctors" of the university
sat in an enclosed gallery built like a sort of gigantic opera-box, and
profanely called the "Golgotha." A huge pulpit faced them on the other
end of the church, and the centre formed a sort of pit. Modern
improvements have, however, swept this away, replacing it with ordinary

[Illustration: BACK OF CLARE COLLEGE.]


Trumpington Street broadens into the King's Parade, and here, entered
through a modern buttressed screen pierced with openings filled with
tracery, is King's College. It was founded by Henry VI. in 1440, and in
immediate connection with the school at Eton, from which the more
advanced scholars were to be transferred. The great King's Chapel, which
gives an idea of the grand scale on which this college was to be
constructed, is the special boast of Cambridge. It is two hundred and
eighty feet long, forty-five feet wide, and seventy-eight feet high,
with a marvellously fretted roof of stone, and large windows at the
sides and ends filled with beautiful stained glass. This is the most
imposing of all the buildings in Cambridge, and occupies the entire
northern side of the college court. Its fine doorway is regarded as the
most pleasing part of the exterior design. The stained-glass windows are
divided into an upper and lower series of pictures. The lower is a
continuous chain of gospel history, while the upper exhibits the
Old-Testament types of the subjects represented below. Although designed
on such a magnificent scale, the Wars of the Roses interfered with the
completion of King's College, and even the chapel was not finished until
Henry VIII.'s reign. The other college buildings are modern.


Adjoining King's is Corpus Christi College, the buildings being almost
entirely modern. Of the ancient structure one small court alone remains,
a picturesque steep-roofed building almost smothered in ivy. Corpus
Christi Hall is said to have been partly designed after the great hall
of Kenilworth. In its library are the famous manuscripts rescued from
the suppressed monasteries, there being four hundred interesting and
curious volumes of these precious documents, which are most jealously
guarded. Opposite Corpus is St. Catharine's College, with a
comparatively plain hall and chapel. Behind this is Queens' College, an
antique structure, though not a very ancient foundation. Its
entrance-tower is of brick, and a quaint low cloister runs around the
interior court. Within is Erasmus's Court, where are pointed out the
rooms once occupied by that great scholar. Across the river a wooden
bridge leads to a terrace by the water-side with an overhanging border
of elms, and known as Erasmus's Walk. This college was founded by the
rival queens, Margaret of Anjou and Elizabeth Widvile, and though it is
very proud of having had the great scholar of the Reformation within its
halls, he does not seem to have entirely reciprocated the pleasure; for
he complains in a letter to a friend that while there "he was blockaded
with the plague, beset with thieves, and drugged with bad wine."
Returning to Trumpington Street, we find on the western side the
University Printing Press, named from the younger statesman the Pitt
Press. He represented the university in Parliament, and the lofty square
and pinnacled tower of this printing-office is one of the most
conspicuous objects in Cambridge. Yet even this structure has its
contrasts, for the "Cantabs" consider that its architecture is as bad as
its typography is good.




1. The Senate House. 2. The Pitt Press. 3. The Round Church. 4. Great
St. Mary's. 5. Fitzwilliam Museum.]

Pembroke College, near the Pitt Press, has a chapel designed by
Christopher Wren and recently enlarged. This was the college of Spenser
and Gray, the latter having migrated from the neighboring Peterhouse
because of the practical jokes the students played upon him. It was also
Pitt's college. Opposite Pembroke is Peterhouse, or St. Peter's College,
the most ancient foundation in Cambridge, established by Hugh de
Balsham, Bishop of Ely, in 1284. Beyond Peterhouse is the Fitzwilliam
Museum, a most successful reproduction of classic architecture, built
and maintained by a legacy of $500,000 left by Viscount Fitzwilliam in
1816. It contains an excellent art and literary collection, which was
begun by the viscount. This is regarded as probably the finest
classical building constructed in the present century in England. A
short distance beyond, at the end of a water-course, is an attractive
hexagonal structure with niched recesses and ornamental capstones. This
is Hobson's Conduit, erected in 1614 by Thomas Hobson. This benefactor
of Cambridge was a carrier between London and the university, and is
said to have been the originator of "Hobson's Choice." The youngest
foundation at Cambridge is Downing College, erected in 1807, an
unobtrusive structure, and near by is Emmanuel College, built on the
site of a Dominican convent and designed by Wren. It was founded by Sir
Walter Mildmay, the Puritan, in 1584, who on going to court was taxed by
Queen Mary with having erected a Puritan college. "No, madam," he
replied, "far be it from me to countenance anything contrary to your
established laws, but I have set an acorn, which when it becomes an oak
God alone knows what will be the fruit thereof." Sir William Temple was
educated at Emmanuel. Christ's College is near by, chiefly interesting
from its associations with Milton, whose rooms are still pointed out,
while a mulberry tree that he planted is preserved in the garden.
Latimer and Paley, with a host of other divines, were students here.
This college was founded by Queen Margaret, mother of Henry VII., and
some beautiful silver plate, her gift to the Fellows, is still
preserved. At Sidney-Sussex College Cromwell was a Fellow in 1616, and
his crayon portrait hangs in the dining-hall. Owing to want of means, he
left without taking a degree. An oriel window projecting over the street
is said to mark his chamber. Upon Bridge Street is the Round Church, or
St. Sepulchre's Church, obtaining its name from its circular Norman
nave, this being one of the four "Temple churches" still remaining in
England. Across the Cam stands Magdalene College, founded in 1519 by
Baron Thomas Audley of Walden. Within the building behind it are the
literary collections of Samuel Pepys, who was secretary to the Admiralty
in the reigns of Charles II. and James II., together with the manuscript
of his famous diary, a book of marvellous gossip, recording the
peccadilloes of its author, the jealousy of his wife, and the
corruptions of the court. He was educated at Magdalene.

Jesus Lane leads out of Bridge Street to Jesus College, remotely placed
on the river-bank, and of which the chief building of interest is the
chapel, a fine Gothic structure. This college is upon the site of a
Benedictine nunnery founded in 1133, and is entered by a lofty brick
gate-tower which is much admired, and was constructed soon after the
foundation of the college in 1497 by the Bishop of Ely, whose successors
until this day retain the gift of the mastership. From Jesus Lane a path
leads down to the boat-houses on the river bank, where each college has
a boat-club wearing a distinctive dress. The racecourse is at the Long
Reach, just below the town. Of the ancient Cambridge Castle, built by
the Conqueror in 1068, nothing remains but the mound upon Castle Hill,
where the county courts are now located. Cambridge, however, has little
besides its university buildings to attract attention. In the suburbs
are two colleges for the instruction of lady students, and two miles
away is Trumpington, near which is the site of the mill told of in
Chaucer's Canterbury tale of the _Miller of Trumpington_. The place is
now used for gates to admit the river-water into Byron's Pool, which is
so called because the poet frequently bathed in it when he was an
undergraduate of Trinity College.



[Illustration: HENGRAVE HALL.]


The river Cam below Cambridge flows through that country of reclaimed
marshland which ultimately ends in the Wash, between Norfolk and
Lincolnshire, and is known as the Fenland. This "Great Level of the
Fens" has been drained and reclaimed by the labors of successive
generations of engineers, and contains about six hundred and eighty
thousand acres of the richest lands in England, being as much the
product of engineering skill as Holland itself. Not many centuries ago
this vast surface, covering two thousand square miles, was entirely
abandoned to the waters, forming an immense estuary of the Wash, into
which various rivers discharge the rainfall of Central England. In
winter it was an inland sea and in summer a noxious swamp. The more
elevated parts were overgrown with tall reeds that in the distance
looked like fields of waving corn, and immense flocks of wild-fowl
haunted them. Into this dismal swamp the rivers brought down their
freshets, the waters mingling and winding by devious channels before
they reached the sea. The silt with which they were laden became
deposited in the basin of the Fens, and thus the river-beds were choked
up, compelling the intercepted waters to force new channels through the
ooze; hence there are numerous abandoned beds of old rivers still
traceable amid the level of the Fens. This region now is drained and
dyked, but in earlier times it was a wilderness of shallow waters and
reedy islets, with frequent "islands" of firmer and more elevated
ground. These were availed of for the monasteries of the Fenland--Ely,
Peterborough, Crowland, and others, all established by the Benedictines.
The abbey of Bury St. Edmunds, although situated some distance from the
marshland, may also be classed among the religious houses of the Fens.
This abbey, which is a short distance east of Cambridge, was built in
the eleventh century as the shrine of St. Edmund, King of East Anglia,
who was killed by the Danes about the year 870. It soon became one of
the wealthiest English monasteries, and was the chief religious centre
of that section. Only ruins remain, the chief being the abbey-gate, now
the property of the Marquis of Bristol, and the Norman tower and church,
which have recently been restored. In the suburbs of Bury is Hengrave
Hall, one of the most interesting Tudor mansions remaining in the
kingdom. Originally, it was three times its present size, and was built
by Sir Thomas Kytson about 1525. Its gate-house is rich in details, and
the many windows and projections of the southern front group


Following the Cam northward from Cambridge through the marshland, we
come to the Isle of Ely, the great "fortress of the Fens," and standing
upon its highest ground the cathedral of Ely. Here St. Etheldreda
founded a monastery in the seventh century, which ultimately became a
cathedral, Ely having been given a bishop in 1109. The present buildings
date all the way from the eleventh to the sixteenth century, so that
they give specimens of all Gothic styles. The cathedral is five hundred
and thirty-seven feet long, and from the summit of its western tower can
be gained a fine view of the spreading fens and lowlands of
Cambridgeshire, amid which stands the Isle of Ely. One of the finest
views of this tower is that obtained from the road leading to Ely Close.
Before drainage had improved the surrounding country this was one of the
strongest fortresses in England, and it was also one of the last to
yield to the Norman Conquest, its reduction causing King William heavy
loss. Afterwards he regarded it as among his most loyal strongholds. The
lofty tower, and indeed the whole cathedral, are landmarks for the
entire country round, and from the rising ground at Cambridge, fully
twenty miles to the southward, can be seen standing out against the sky.
From the dykes and fields and meadows that have replaced the marshes
along the Cam and Ouse the huge tower can be seen looming up in stately
grandeur. It is almost the sole attraction of the sleepy little country
town. The great feature of this massive cathedral is the wonderful
central octagon, with its dome-like roof crowned by a lofty lantern,
which is said to be the only Gothic dome of its kind in existence in
England or France. We are told that the original cathedral had a central
tower, which for some time showed signs of instability, until on one
winter's morning in 1321 it came down with an earthquake crash and
severed the cathedral into four arms. In reconstructing it, to ensure
security, the entire breadth of the church was taken as a base for the
octagon, so that it was more than three times as large as the original
square tower. Magnificent windows are inserted in the exterior faces of
the octagon, and the entire cathedral has been recently restored. It was
to Bishop Cox, who then presided over the see of Ely, that Queen
Elizabeth, when he objected to the alienation of certain church
property, wrote her famous letter:

     "PROUD PRELATE: You know what you were before I made you what you
     are; if you do not immediately comply with my request, by God, I
     will unfrock you."


[Illustration: OLD BITS IN ELY.

  1. Old passage from Ely street to Cathedral Ford.
  2. Entrance to Prior Crawdon's Chapel.
  3. Old houses in High Street.]

The bishop, it is almost unnecessary to say, surrendered. The town
contains little of interest beyond some quaint old houses.



North-westward of Ely, and just on the border of the Fenland, Saxulf, a
thane of Mercia who had acquired great wealth, founded the first and
most powerful of the great Benedictine abbeys of this region in the year
655. Around this celebrated religious house has grown the town of
Peterborough, now one of the chief railway-junctions in Midland England.
The remains of the monastic buildings, and especially of the cathedral,
are magnificent, the great feature of the latter being its western
front, which was completed in the thirteenth century, and has three
great open arches, making probably the finest church-portico in Europe.
On the left of the cathedral is the chancel of Becket's Chapel, now a
grammar-school, while on the right is the ancient gateway of the abbot's
lodgings, which has become the entrance to the bishop's palace. The main
part of the cathedral is Norman, though portions are Early English. It
is built in the form of a cross, with a smaller transept at the western
end, while the choir terminates in an apse, and a central tower rises
from four supporting arches. Within the cathedral, over the doorway, is
a picture of old Scarlet, Peterborough's noted sexton, who buried
Catharine of Arragon and Mary Queen of Scots. The nave has an ancient
wooden roof, carefully preserved and painted with various devices. The
transept arches are fine specimens of Norman work. Queen Catharine lies
under a slab in the aisle of St. John's Chapel, but the remains of Queen
Mary were removed to Westminster Abbey by James I., to the magnificent
tomb he prepared there for his mother.



Farther northward in the Fenland, and over the border in Lincolnshire,
was the Benedictine abbey of "courteous Crowland," though its remains
are now scanty. It derives its name from the "Land of Crows," which in
this part is drained by the Welland River and the great Bedford Level.
On one of the many islands of firmer soil abounding in this oozy region
the monks constructed their monastery, but had little space for
cultivation, and brought their food from remoter possessions. Now,
Crowland is no longer an island, for the drainage has made fast land all
about, and the ruins have attracted a straggling village. Here is the
famous "triangular bridge," a relic of the abbey. Three streams met, and
the bridge was made to accommodate the monks, who, from whatever
direction they approached, had to cross one of them. The streams now are
conveyed underground, but the bridge remains like a stranded monster
which the tide has abandoned, and gives the children a play-place. Its
steep half-arches, meeting in the centre, are climbed by rough steps.
The dissolved abbey served as a quarry for the village, and hence on
this strange bridge and on all the houses fragments of worked stone and
of sculpture everywhere appear. It was located at the eastern end of the
village, where its ruins still stand up as a guide across the fens, seen
from afar. Most of it is in complete ruin, but the north aisle of the
nave has been sufficiently preserved to serve as the parish church of
Crowland; round about the church and the ruins extends the village
graveyard. Set up in the porch beneath the tower is a memorial for
William Hill, the sexton, who died in 1792. When forty years old he was
blinded by exposure during a snowfall, yet he lived for twenty-five
years afterwards, able to find his way everywhere and to know every
grave in the churchyard.


In the earlier days of Christianity the solitudes in this Fenland had
peculiar attractions for the hermits who fled from the world to embrace
an ascetic life. Thus the islands each gradually got its hermit, and the
great monasteries grew up by degrees, starting usually in the cell of
some recluse. Guthlac, who lived in the seventh century, was of the
royal House of Mercia, and voluntarily exiled himself in the Fens. This
region was then, according to popular belief, the haunt of myriads of
evil spirits, who delighted in attacking the hermits. They assaulted
Guthlac in hosts, disturbed him by strange noises, once carried him far
away to the icy regions of the North, and not seldom took the form of
crows, the easier to torment him; but his steady prayers and penance
ultimately put them to flight, and the existence of his cell became
known to the world. Ethelbald fled to Guthlac for refuge, and the hermit
predicted he would become king, which in time came to pass. Guthlac died
at Crowland, and the grateful king built a stone church there. The
buildings increased, their great treasure being of course the tomb of
the hermit, which became a source of many miracles. The Northmen in the
ninth century plundered and destroyed Crowland, but it was restored, and
in Edward the Confessor's time was one of the five religious houses
ruled by the powerful abbot of Peterborough. It became the shrine of
Waltheof, the Earl of Northampton beheaded for opposing William the
Conqueror, and Crowland was thus made a stronghold of English feeling
against the Normans, like the other monasteries of the Fens. Its fame
declined somewhat after the Conquest, though its hospitality was fully
maintained. It had little subsequent history. The abbey was garrisoned
by the Royalists, and captured by Cromwell in 1643, after which it fell
into ruin. Such has been the fate of almost all the religious houses in
the Fens, the merits of which the people in the olden time judged
according to a local rhyme which yet survives:

  "Ramsay, the bounteous of gold and of fee;
  Crowland, as courteous as courteous may be;
  Spalding the rich, and Peterborough the proud;
  Sawtrey, by the way, that poor abbaye,
  Gave more alms in one day than all they."


Proceeding eastward out of the Fenland and among the hills of Norfolk,
the little river Wensum is found to have cut a broad, deep, and
trench-like valley into the chalk and gravel plateau. Upon the elevated
bank of the river is the irregularly picturesque town of Norwich, with
the castle keep rising above the undulating mass of buildings, and the
cathedral and its noble spire overtopping the lower portion of the city
on the right hand. Norwich is an ancient town, but very little is known
with certainty about it anterior to the Danish invasions. We are told
that its original location was at the more southerly castle of Caister,
whence the inhabitants migrated to the present site, for--

  "Caister was a city when Norwich was none,
  And Norwich was built of Caister stone."

Canute held possession of Norwich and had a castle there, but the
present castle seems to date from the Norman Conquest, when it was
granted to Ralph de Quader, who turned traitor to the king, causing
Norfolk to be besieged, captured, and greatly injured. Then the castle
was granted to Roger Bigod. The town grew, and became especially
prosperous from the settlement there of numerous Flemish weavers in the
fourteenth century and of Walloons in Elizabeth's reign. It managed to
keep pretty well out of the Civil Wars, but a local historian says, "The
inhabitants have been saved from stagnation by the exceeding bitterness
with which all party and local political questions are discussed and
contested, and by the hearty way in which all classes throw themselves
into all really patriotic movements, when their party feeling
occasionally sleeps for a month or two." Norwich is pre-eminently a town
of churches, into the construction of which flint enters largely, it
being dressed with great skill into small roughened cubical blocks.

[Illustration: NORWICH CASTLE.]

The great attraction of Norwich is the cathedral, which stands upon a
low peninsula enclosed by a semicircular sweep of the river, much of the
ground in this region having been originally a swamp. The cathedral is
generally approached from its western side, where there is an open space
in front of the Close called Tombland, upon which two gates open from
it. These are St. Ethelbert's and the Erpingham gate. The latter,
opposite the western front of the cathedral, is named for its builder,
"old Sir Thomas Erpingham," whose "good white head," Shakespeare tells
us, was to be seen on the field of Agincourt. The cathedral is a Norman
structure, cruciform in plan, with an exceptionally long nave, an
apsidal choir, and attached chapels. The earliest parts of it were begun
in 1096, and when partially completed five years afterwards it was
handed over to the care of the Benedictine monks. Thirty years later
the nave was added, but the cathedral was not completed until about
1150. Twice it was seriously injured by fire, and it was not thoroughly
restored for a century, when in 1278 it was again consecrated with great
pomp, in the presence of Edward I. and his court, on Advent Sunday. The
spire, which is one of its most conspicuous features, was added by
Bishop Percy in the fourteenth century, though, having been seriously
injured by lightning, it had to be replaced afterwards. At the same time
the building was greatly altered, its roofs raised and vaulted, and
repairs went on until 1536. Yet, with all the changes that were made in
this famous cathedral, no other in England has managed to preserve its
original plan so nearly undisturbed.

[Illustration: NORWICH CATHEDRAL.]


Entering the nave from the westward, this grand apartment is found to
extend two hundred and fifty feet, and to the intersection of the
transepts comprises fourteen bays, three of them being included in the
choir. The triforium is almost as lofty as the nave-arches, and the
solidity of these, surmounted by the grandeur of the upper arcade, gives
a magnificent aspect to the nave. Above is the fine vaulted roof, the
elaborately carved bosses giving a series of scenes from sacred history
extending from the Creation to the Last Judgment. Small chapels were
originally erected against the organ-screen, one of them being dedicated
to the young St. William, a Norfolk saint who in the twelfth century was
tortured and crucified by some Jews. His body, clandestinely buried in a
wood, was found, miracles were wrought, and it was translated to the
cathedral. The Jews of Norwich were then attacked and plundered, and
these outrages were renewed a century later. But times have fortunately
changed since then. The choir extends to the eastern apse, and at the
back of the altar recent alterations have exposed an interesting relic
in a fragment of the original bishop's throne, an elevated chair of
stone placed in the middle of the apse and looking westward. On either
side are apsidal chapels. Among the monuments is that to Sir William
Boleyn, grandfather to the unfortunate Anne Boleyn. He lived at
Blickling, about thirteen miles from Norwich, where Anne is believed to
have been born. Several bishops also lie in the cathedral, and among the
later tombs is that of Dr. Moore, who died in 1779, and whose periwigged
head is in grotesque juxtaposition with a cherub making an ugly face
and appearing to be drying his eyes with his shirt. The spire of Norwich
Cathedral rises two hundred and eighty-seven feet.


Norwich Castle is a massive block of masonry crowning the summit of a
mound. Who first built it is unknown, but he is said by popular
tradition to sit buried in his chair and full armed deep down in the
centre of this mound, and "ready for all contingencies." But the castle
has degenerated into a jail, and the great square tower or keep,
ninety-five feet square and seventy feet high, is the only part of the
original structure remaining. It has been refaced with new stone, and
the interior has also been completely changed. The moat is planted with
trees, and on the outside slope the cattle-market is held every
Saturday. Norwich has some historical structures. In its grammar school
Nelson was a scholar, and his statue stands on the green. On the edge of
Tombland stands the house of Sir John Falstaff, a brave soldier and
friend of literature, whose memory is greatly prized in Norfolk, but
whose name has been forgotten by many in the shadow of Shakespeare's
"Fat Jack." The chief centre of the town, however, is the market-place,
on the slope of a hill, where modernized buildings have replaced some of
the more antique structures. Here stands the ancient Guildhall, which in
1413 replaced the old Tolbooth where the market-dues were paid. Within
is the sword surrendered to Nelson by Admiral Winthuysen at the battle
of St. Vincent, and by him presented to the chief city of his native
county of Norfolk. In the olden time the glory of Norwich was the Duke
of Norfolk's palace, but it was destroyed at the end of the seventeenth
century by the then duke in a fit of anger because the mayor would not
permit his troop of players to march through the town with trumpets
blowing. Not a brick of it now stands, the site being covered with small
houses. Norwich was formerly famous for its trade in woollens, the Dutch
introducing them at the neighboring village of Worsted, whence the name.
Now, the coal-mines have aided the spinning-jenny, but the worsteds are
overshadowed by other Norwich manufactures. Colman's mustard-factories
cover ten acres, and Barnard's ornamental iron-work from Norwich is
world-renowned. Norwich also contains an enormous brewery, but in this
the city is not singular, for what is a Briton without his beer?


[Illustration: BURGHLEY HOUSE.]

On the banks of the Welland River, a short distance above Crowland, is
Stamford, in Lincolnshire, near which is located the well-known Burghley
House, the home of Lord Treasurer Cecil, whose history is referred to in
the notice of Hatfield House. This mansion, which is a short distance
south of Stamford, is now the seat of the Marquis of Exeter, William
Allayne Cecil. It is said to have furnished the text for Lord Bacon's
"Essay on Building," it having been completed but a short time
previously. The plans of this famous house are still preserved in
London. It is a parallelogram built around an open court, with a lofty
square tower projecting from the western front, and having octangular
turrets at the angles. The northern (which is the main) front is divided
into three compartments, and bears on the parapet 1587 as the date when
the house was finished. Within the building a long corridor, commanding
a view of the inner court, leads to a stone staircase which rises to the
top of the structure and is peculiarly decorated. There is a fine
chapel, and in an adjoining room was Giordano's renowned painting of
"Seneca Dying in the Bath," which was eulogized in Prior's poems, he
having seen it there, though it is now removed. One of the most
interesting pictures in the gallery is that of Henry Cecil, the tenth
Earl and the first Marquis of Exeter, his wife, and daughter. Tennyson
has woven the romance of their marriage into a poem. Cecil, before
coming into his title, was living in seclusion in Shropshire, and fell
in love with a farmer's daughter. He married her under an assumed name,
and only disclosed his true rank when, succeeding to his uncle's title
and estates, he became the lord of Burghley and took her home to
Burghley House. Tennyson tells how she received the disclosure:

  "Thus her heart rejoices greatly, till a gateway she discerns
  With armorial bearings stately, and beneath the gate she turns;
  Sees a mansion more majestic than all those she saw before:
  Many a gallant gay domestic bows before him at the door.
  And they speak in gentle murmur, when they answer to his call.
  While he treads with footstep firmer, leading on from hall to hall.
  And, while now she wonders blindly, nor the meaning can divine,
  Proudly turns he round and kindly, 'All of this is mine and thine.'
  Here he lives in state and bounty, Lord of Burghley, fair and free,
  Not a lord in all the county is so great a lord as he.
  All at once the color flushes her sweet face from brow to chin:
  As it were with shame she blushes, and her spirit changed within.
  Then her countenance all over pale again as death did prove;
  But he clasp'd her like a lover, and he cheer'd her soul with love."

The building has many attractive apartments, including a ball-room and
Queen Elizabeth's chamber, but it is doubted whether the maiden queen
ever visited it, though she did stay at Burghley's house in Stamford,
and here made the celebrated speech to her old minister in which she
said that his head and her purse could do anything. Burghley's eldest
son, Thomas, was created Earl of Exeter, and his descendants are now in
possession of the house. His younger son, Robert, as previously related,
was made Earl of Salisbury, and his descendants hold Hatfield House. The
apartments at Burghley are filled with historical portraits. The grand
staircase on the southern side of the house is finer than the other, but
is not so full of character. The gardens of Burghley were planned by
"Capability Brown," the same who laid out Kew. He imperiously overruled
King George III. in the gardening at Kew, and when he died the king is
said to have exclaimed with a sigh of relief to the under-gardener,
"Brown is dead; now you and I can do what we please here." Within St.
Martin's Church in Stamford is the canopied tomb of the lord treasurer,
constructed of alabaster, and bearing his effigy clad in armor, with the
crimson robes of the Garter; it is surrounded with the tombs of his
descendants. It was into Stamford that Nicholas Nickleby rode through
the snowstorm, and the coach stopped at the George Inn, which was a
popular hostelrie in the days of Charles II., as it still remains.

North of Stamford, on the river Witham, is the interesting town of
Grantham, containing the quaint grammar-school founded by Bishop Fox of
Winchester in 1528 where Sir Isaac Newton was educated. It is recorded
by tradition that his career here was not very brilliant as a scholar--a
circumstance which may be told, if for nothing else, at least for the
encouragement of some of the school-boys of a later generation.



[Illustration: "BITS" FROM LINCOLN.]

Continuing northward down the river Witham, we come to a point where the
stream has carved in a limestone-capped plateau a magnificent valley,
which, changing its course to the eastward, ultimately broadens on its
route to the sea into a wide tract of fenland. Here, upon a grand site
overlooking the marshes and the valley, stands the city of Lincoln, with
its cathedral crowning the top of the hill, while the town-buildings
spread down the slope to the riverbank at Brayford Pool, from which
the Witham is navigable down to Boston, near the coast, and ultimately
discharges into the Wash. The Pool is crowded with vessels and bordered
by warehouses, and it receives the ancient Fosse Dyke Canal, which was
dug by the Romans to connect the Witham with the more inland river
Trent. This was the Roman colony of Lindum, from which the present name
of Lincoln is derived, and the noble cathedral crowns the highest
ground, known as Steep Hill. William the Conqueror conferred upon Bishop
Remigius of Fecamp the see of Dorchester, and he founded in 1075 this
celebrated cathedral, which, with its three noble towers and two
transepts, is one of the finest in England. Approaching it from the
town, at the foot of the hill is encountered the Stonebow, a Gothic
gateway of the Tudor age, which serves as the guild-hall. The centre of
the western front is the oldest part of Lincoln Cathedral, and the
gateway facing it, and forming the chief entrance to the Close, is the
Exchequer Gate, an impressive structure built in the reign of Edward
III. The cathedral arcade and the lower parts of the two western towers
and the western doorway were built in the twelfth century. Subsequently
an earthquake shattered the cathedral, and in the thirteenth century it
was restored and extended by Bishop Hugh of Avelon, not being finished
until 1315. The massive central tower is supported on four grand piers
composed of twenty-four shafts, and here is hung the celebrated bell of
Lincoln, "Great Tom," which was recast about fifty years ago, and weighs
five and a half tons. The transepts have splendid rose windows,
retaining the original stained glass. Lincoln's shrine was that of St.
Hugh, and his choir is surmounted by remarkable vaulting, the eastern
end of the church being extended into the Angel Choir, a beautiful
specimen of Decorated Gothic, built in 1282 to accommodate the enormous
concourse of pilgrims attracted by St. Hugh's shrine, which stood in
this part of the building. In the cathedral is the tomb of Katherine
Swynford, wife of John of Gaunt. Adjoining the south-eastern transept
are the cloisters and chapter-house. The most ingenious piece of work of
the whole structure is the "stone beam," a bridge with a nearly flat
arch, extending between the two western towers over the nave, composed
of twenty-two stones, each eleven inches thick, and vibrating sensibly
when stepped upon. There is a grand view from the towers over the
neighboring country and far away down the Witham towards the sea. The
exterior of the cathedral is one of the finest specimens of architecture
in the kingdom, its porches, side-chapels, decorated doorways,
sculptured capitals, windows, cloisters, and towers admirably
illustrating every portion of the history of English architecture. Its
interior length is four hundred and eighty-two feet, the great transept
two hundred and fifty feet, and the lesser transept one hundred and
seventy feet. The western towers are one hundred and eighty feet high,
and the central tower two hundred and sixty feet, while the width of the
cathedral's noble western front is one hundred and seventy-four feet.
Upon the southern side of the hill, just below it, are the stately ruins
of the Bishop's Palace, of which the tower has recently been restored.
Bishop Hugh's ruined Great Hall is now overgrown with ivy, but the walls
can be climbed to disclose a glorious view of the cathedral.

The ancient Ermine Street of the Romans enters Lincoln through the best
preserved piece of Roman masonry in England, the Newport Gate of two
arches, where on either hand may be seen fragments of the old wall. Near
the south-east corner of this originally walled area William the
Conqueror built Lincoln Castle, with its gate facing the cathedral. The
ruins are well preserved, and parts of the site are now occupied by the
jail and court-house. Within this old castle King Stephen besieged the
empress Maud, but though he captured it she escaped. Her partisans
recaptured the place, and Stephen in the second siege was made a
prisoner. It suffered many sieges in the troubled times afterwards. In
the Civil War the townspeople supported the king, but being attacked
they retreated to the castle and cathedral, which were stormed and taken
by the Parliamentary army. Afterwards the castle was dismantled. One of
the interesting remains in Lincoln is the "Jew's House," the home in the
Hebrew quarter of a Jewess who was hanged for clipping coin in the reign
of Edward I. But the noble cathedral is the crowning glory of this
interesting old city, the massive structure, with its three surmounting
towers standing on high, being visible for many miles across the country


[Illustration: NOTTINGHAM CASTLE.]

We will now cross over the border from Lincoln into Nottinghamshire,
and, seeking the valley of the Trent, find upon the steep brow of a
cliff by the river the ancient castle of Nottingham, which is now
surrounded by the busy machinery of the hosiery-weavers. When it was
founded no one accurately knows, but it is believed to antedate the
Roman occupation of the island. As long ago as the tenth century there
was a bridge across the Trent at Snodengahame--meaning the "dwelling
among the rocks"--as it was then called, and afterwards the town
suffered from the Danes. It is also suffered during the troubled reign
of King Stephen. The castle was built by one of the Peverils soon after
the Norman Conquest, and was frequently the abode of kings. It was here
that Roger Mortimer was seized prior to being tried and hanged in
London. King David of Scotland and Owen Glendower of Wales were held
prisoners in Nottingham Castle, and from it Richard III. advanced to
meet his fate on Bosworth Field, while Charles I. set up his standard
and gathered his army at Nottingham at the opening of the Civil Wars,
the blowing down of the standard by a gale on Castle Hill being taken as
ominous of the unfortunate termination of the conflict. The old castle,
which has fallen into ruins, subsequently passed into possession of the
Duke of Newcastle, who cleared away almost the whole of the ancient
structure and built a house upon the site. The city was noted for its
manufactures as early as the reign of King John, and the hand-knitting
of stockings was introduced in the sixteenth century. Previously to that
time hosiery had been cut out of cloth, with the seams sewed up the same
as outer clothing. As early as 1589 a machine for weaving was invented,
but failing to reap a profit from it, the inventor, a clergyman, took it
to Paris, where he afterwards died broken-hearted. Ultimately, his
apprentices brought the machines back to Nottingham, improved them, and
prospered. Many improvements followed. Jedediah Strutt produced the
"Derby ribbed hose;" then the warp-loom was invented in the last
century, and the bobbin-traverse net in 1809. The knitting-machines have
been steadily improved, and now hosiery-making is carried on in
extensive factories that give an individuality to the town. The
rapidity with which stockings are reeled off the machines is
astonishing. An ordinary stocking is made in four pieces, which are
afterwards sewed or knitted together by another machine. Some of the
looms, however, knit the legs in one piece, and may be seen working off
almost endless woollen tubes, which are afterwards divided into
convenient lengths. Fancy hosiery is knitted according to patterns, the
setting up of which requires great skill. Vast amounts of lace are
woven, and in the factories female labor preponderates. The upper town
of Nottingham, clustering around the castle on the river-crag, has a
picturesque aspect from the valley below. Among the features of the
lower town is the market-place, a triangular area of slightly over four
acres, where the market is held every Saturday, and where once a year is
also held that great event of Nottingham, the Michaelmas goose fair.
Here also disport themselves at election-times the rougher element, who,
from their propensity to bleat when expressing disapprobation, are known
as the "Nottingham lambs," and who claim to be lineal descendants from
that hero of the neighboring Sherwood Forest, Robin Hood.




We will now go down the valley of the Trent below Nottingham, and,
mounting the gentle hills that border Sherwood Forest, come to the
Roman station, Ad Pontem, of which the Venerable Bede was the
historian. Here Paulinus was baptized, and it was early made the site of
an episcopal see. The name was Sudwell at the Norman Conquest, and then
it became Southwell, and the noted minster was one of the favorite
residences of the Archbishop of York. It is a quiet, old-fashioned
place, with plenty of comfortable residences, and in a large churchyard
on ground sloping away from the main street, with the ruins of the
archbishop's palace near by, is Southwell Minster. There are few finer
examples of a Norman building remaining in England, the three towers,
nave, transepts, and chapter-house forming a majestic group. An enormous
western window has been inserted by later architects, rather to the
detriment of the gable, and this produces a singular effect. The
interior of the minster is magnificent. The Norman nave is of eight bays
with semicircular arches, surmounted by a triforium of rows of arches
almost equal to those below, and rising from piers with clustered
side-columns. It is nearly three-fourths the height of the lower stage,
and this produces a grand effect. The flat roof is modern, it and the
bells having been replaced after the church was burned in the last
century. The ruins of the archiepiscopal palace, erected six hundred
years ago, have been availed of in one portion for a dwelling-house.
Wolsey built part of it, and beneath the battlemented wall enclosing the
garden there was not long ago found the skeleton of a soldier in armor,
a relic of the Civil Wars. The name of the town is derived from its
wells. The South Well is a short distance outside the limits in a little
park. The Holy Well, which was inside the minster, is now covered up.
Lady Well was just outside the church-walls, but a clergyman fell into
it one dark night and was drowned, and it too has been closed. St.
Catherine's Well was surmounted by a chapel, and is in repute as a cure
for rheumatism. The ancient inn of the Saracen's Head in Southwell, not
far from the minster on the main street, witnessed the closing scene of
the Civil War. After the battle of Naseby the Scotch had reached
Southwell, and Montreville, an agent of Cardinal Mazarin, came there to
negotiate on behalf of King Charles in 1646. The Scotch commissioners
had rooms in the archiepiscopal palace, and Montreville lodged at the
Saracen's Head. After the negotiations had proceeded for some time, the
king in disguise quitted Oxford in April, and after a devious journey by
way of Newark appeared at Montreville's lodgings on May 6th. On the
south side of the inn was an apartment divided into a dining-room and
bedroom, which the king occupied, and in the afternoon, after dining
with the Scotch commissioners, he placed himself in their hands, and was
sent a prisoner to their head-quarters. The canny Scots before leaving
stripped the lead from the roof of the palace, and it afterwards fell
into ruin, so that Cromwell, who arrived subsequently, found it
uninhabitable, and then occupied the king's room at the Saracen's Head,
his horses being stabled in Southwell Minster. Southwell since has had
an uneventful history.


Nor far away is the well-known Sherwood Forest, wherein in the olden
time lived the famous forester and bandit Robin Hood. Roaming among its
spreading oaks with his robber band, he was not infrequently a visitor
to the bordering towns, sometimes for pleasure, but oftener for
"business." Who Robin was, or exactly when he lived, no one seems to
know. He is associated alike with the unsettled times of Kings John and
Richard, with Henry V. and with Jack Cade, but so much mystery surrounds
all reports of him that some do not hesitate to declare Robin Hood a
myth. But whoever he was, his memory and exploits live in many a ballad
sung along the banks of the Trent and in the towns and villages of
Sherwood Forest. His abiding-place is now divided up into magnificent
estates, the most famous of them being known as "The Dukeries." One of
them, near Ollerton, is Thoresby Hall, the splendid home of the Earl of
Manvers, a park that is ten miles in circumference. North of this is the
stately seat of the Duke of Newcastle--Clumber Park--charmingly situated
between Ollerton and Worksop. From the entrance-lodge a carriage-drive
of over a mile through the well-wooded grounds leads up to the elegant
yet homelike mansion. It is of modern construction, having been built in
1770 and received important additions since. Before that time the park
was a tract of wild woodland, but the then Duke of Newcastle improved
it, and constructed an extensive lake, covering ninety acres, at a cost
of $35,000. It was originally intended for a shooting-box, but this was
elaborately extended. In the centre of the west front is a colonnade,
and between the mansion and the lake are fine gardens ornamented by a
large fountain. The owner of Clumber is the lineal representative of the
family of Pelham-Clinton--which first appeared prominently in the reign
of Edward I.--and is Henry Pelham Alexander Pelham-Clinton, sixth Duke
of Newcastle. Clumber is rich in ornaments, among them being four
ancient Roman altars, but the most striking feature is the full-rigged
ship which with a consort rests upon the placid bosom of the lake.

[Illustration: CLUMBER HALL.]

[Illustration: WELBECK ABBEY.]

Adjoining Clumber Park is the most celebrated of "The Dukeries," Welbeck
Abbey, which is one of the remarkable estates of England, a place
peculiar to itself. The mansion is about four miles from Worksop, and
the surrounding park contains a grand display of fine old trees, beneath
which roam extensive herds of deer. Welbeck Abbey of White Canons was
founded in the reign of Henry II., and dedicated to St. James. After the
dissolution it was granted to Richard Whalley, and subsequently passed
into possession of Sir Charles Cavendish, a son of the famous Bess of
Hardwicke, whose grandson converted the abbey into an elaborate mansion,
leaving little of the original religious building standing. The present
house was constructed in the seventeenth century, its old riding-house
being completed in 1623, and William Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle, who
built it, was noted as the most accomplished horseman of his time. For
several generations Welbeck remained in possession of the Dukes of
Newcastle, until in the last century an only daughter and the heiress of
the abbey married William Bentinck, the Duke of Portland, thus carrying
the estate over to that family, which now possesses it. The founder of
this ducal house came over from Holland as a page of honor with King
William III. The present owner, who has just succeeded to the title, is
the sixth Duke of Portland. The chief feature of the original Welbeck,
the old riding-house, remains, but is no longer used for that purpose.
It is a grand hall, one hundred and seventy-seven feet long, with a
massive open-work timber roof of admirable design. The mansion is full
of fine apartments, many of them elaborately decorated, but it is not
from these that the estate gets its present fame. The late Duke of
Portland, who was unmarried, was an eccentric man, and he developed a
talent for burrowing underground that made his house one of the most
remarkable in England and consumed enormous sums of money. The libraries
of Welbeck, five superb rooms opening into each other, a spacious hall
adjoining, one hundred and fifty-nine feet long, the stables, large
gardens, hothouses, lodges, and other apartments, are all underground.
They have glass roofs of magnificent design. They are approached from
and connected with the rest of the mansion by subterranean passages,
and, being lofty rooms, the cost of this deep digging and of the
necessary drainage and other adjuncts may be imagined. The new riding
house, the finest in existence, and also underground, but lighted by an
arched glass roof, is three hundred and seventy-nine by one hundred and
six feet, and fifty feet high. It is elaborately ornamented, and at
night is lighted by nearly eight thousand gas-jets. Near it are the
extensive hunting-stables, coach-houses, and that marked feature of
Welbeck, the covered "gallop," one thousand and seventy-two feet long,
with large "hanging rooms" at either end: these too are covered with
glass, so as to get their light from the top. The whole place abounds in
subterranean apartments and passages, while above ground are extensive
gardens and dairies. In the gardens are the peach-wall, one thousand
feet long, a similar range of pine-houses, a fruit-arcade of ornamental
iron arches stretching nearly a quarter of a mile, with apple trees
trained on one side and pear trees on the other, and extensive beds of
flowers and plants. To construct and maintain all this curious
magnificence there are workshops on a grand scale. This eccentric duke,
who practically denied himself to the world, and for years devoted his
time to carrying on these remarkable works at an enormous cost, employed
over two thousand persons in burrowing out the bowels of the earth and
making these grand yet strange apartments. When finished he alone could
enjoy them, for Welbeck was for a long time a sealed book to the outer
world. But the eccentric duke died, as all men must, and his successor
opened Welbeck to view and to the astonishment of all who saw it. A few
months ago the Prince of Wales and a noble company visited the strange
yet magnificent structure, and then for the first time the amazed
assemblage explored this underground palace in Sherwood Forest, and when
their wonder was satisfied they turned on the myriads of gas-jets, and
amid a blaze of artificial light indulged in a ball--an unwonted scene
for the weird old abbey of the eccentric and solitary duke. Like the
fairies and mermaids of old in their underground palaces, the prince and
his friends at Welbeck right merrily

  "Held their courtly revels down, down below."

Also in this neighborhood is Newstead Abbey, the ancient seat of the
Byrons. It is about eleven miles from Nottingham, and was founded by the
Augustinians in the time of Henry II. In 1540 it came into possession of
Sir John Byron, and a century later was held for King Charles. The poet
Byron's bedroom remains almost as he left it, and on the lawn is the
monument to his favorite dog, "Boatswain." The abbey also contains
several relics of Livingstone, the African explorer. Near it is Robin
Hood's Cave, and the neighborhood is full of remains of the famous
chieftain, such as his Hill and his Chair, and Fountain Dale where Robin
encountered Friar Tuck.



Descending again to the banks of the Trent, we come to the causeway
which carries over the flat meadows the Great North Road, the Roman
military route to the north of England, which made it necessary to build
a castle to hold the keys to its passage across the river. We are told
that Egbert built the earliest fortress here, but the Danes destroyed
it. Leofric, Earl of Mercia, rebuilt it, and gave the castle the name of
the "New Work." But it too fell into decay, and in 1123 the present
castle was built, which though much altered and afterwards sadly ruined,
has come down to the present time. It was here that, after his army was
swamped in the Wash, King John died, some say by poison, but the prosaic
historian attributes the sad result to over-indulgence in "unripe
peaches and new beer." In the Civil War it was a royal stronghold and
sent King Charles large numbers of recruits. Then it was besieged by
Cromwell, but stoutly resisted, and Prince Rupert by some brilliant
manoeuvres relieved it. Finally, the king sought refuge within its
walls after the defeat at Naseby, and here he was besieged by the Scotch
until his voluntary surrender to them at Southwell, when two days
afterwards, by his order, Newark capitulated to his captors. The
Parliamentary forces afterwards dismantled the castle, and it fell into
decay, but it has recently been restored as well as possible, and the
site converted into a public garden. Within the town of Newark are
several objects of interest. At the Saracen's Head Inn, which has
existed from the time of Edward III., Sir Walter Scott tells us that
Jeanie Deans slept on her journey from Midlothian to London. The most
striking part of the town is the market-square, which is very large, and
is surrounded by old and interesting houses, several of them projecting
completely over the footwalks, and having the front walls supported upon
columns--a most picturesque arrangement. One of these old houses has
windows in continuous rows in the upper stories, having between them
wooden beams and figures moulded in plaster. Through the openings
between these old houses can be seen the church, which is one of the
finest parish churches in this district, so celebrated for the
magnificence of its religious houses. Surmounting its Early English
tower is a spire of later date. The plan is cruciform, but with very
short transepts, not extending beyond the aisles, which are wide and
stretch the entire length of the church. There is a fine roof of carved
oak, and some of the stained glass and interior paintings are highly
prized. It was at Newark that Thomas Magnus lived and founded the
grammar-school at which the antiquarian Dr. Stukeley was educated, and
afterwards the famous Warburton, who became Bishop of Gloucester.


In Newark, about three hundred years ago, there was a tavern called the
"Talbot Arms," named in honor of the Earl of Shrewsbury, whose countess
was Mary, daughter of the famous Bess of Hardwicke by her second
husband, Sir William Cavendish. Between the Talbots and the neighboring
family of Stanhopes at Shelford there was a feud, which resulted in the
Stanhopes defacing the tavern-sign. This was not taken notice of by the
Earl of Shrewsbury, but the quarrel was assumed by the imperious
countess and her brother, Sir Charles Cavendish. They despatched a
messenger to Sir Thomas Stanhope, accusing him and his son of the
insult, and declaring him a "reprobate and his son John a rascal." Then
a few days later they sent a formal defiance: the Stanhopes avoided a
duel as long as possible until they began to be posted as cowards, and
then, having gone to London, whither Cavendish followed them, a duel was
arranged with the younger Stanhope at Lambeth Bridge. They met after
several delays, when it was found that Stanhope had his doublet so
thickly quilted as to be almost impenetrable to a sword-thrust. Then
there was a new dispute, and it was proposed they should fight in their
shirts, but this Stanhope declined, pleading a cold. Cavendish offered
to lend him a waistcoat, but this too was declined; then Cavendish
waived all objections to the doublet and proposed to fight anyhow, but
the seconds interposed, and the duel was put off. Stanhope was then
again posted as a coward, and he and his adherents were hustled in the
streets of London. A few days later Stanhope and his party were attacked
in Fleet Street by the Talbots, and one of the former faction mortally
wounded. The feud went on six years, when one day, Cavendish, riding
near his home in Nottinghamshire with three attendants, was attacked by
Stanhope and twenty horsemen. He fought bravely, and was badly wounded,
but killed four and wounded two others of his opponents, when,
reinforcements appearing, the Stanhope party fled, leaving six horses
and nearly all their hats and weapons behind them. But all feuds have an
end, and this one ultimately exhausted itself, the families within a
century being united in marriage.

[Illustration: MARKET-SQUARE.]



[Illustration: THE HUMBER AT HULL.]

Following the Trent down to the Humber, and turning towards the sea, we
come to the noted seaport of Hull, or, as it is best known in those
parts, Kingston-upon-Hull. While not possessing great attractions for
the ordinary tourist, yet Hull ranks as the third seaport of England,
being second only to London and Liverpool. It is the great
packet-station for the north of Europe, with steam lines leading to
Holland, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Russia, and the Baltic, most of the
English trade with those countries being centred at Hull. It is a town
of extreme activity, its docks being all the time crowded with shipping,
and its location, practically upon an island, with the river Humber on
the south, the river Hull upon the east, and docks upon the northern and
western sides, giving it every maritime convenience. The docks, though
inferior to those of Liverpool, are the chief feature of the town. The
Hull River itself forms a natural dock about a mile and a half long, and
from this a chain of other docks leads through the warehouses and the
town to the Humber. Hull possesses the Trinity House, one of the three
ancient establishments in England--the others being at London and
Newcastle--which were founded first as a religious fraternity in the
fourteenth century, and became afterwards establishments for the relief
of distressed and decayed seamen and their families. The present Trinity
House building was erected in the last century. The chief ornament of
Hull is the Wilberforce Monument, a pillar of sandstone seventy-two
feet high, erected about a half century ago, and surmounted by a statue
of the celebrated philanthropist. He was born on High Street August 24,
1759, this being the most important thoroughfare in ancient Hull, but
now a narrow and inconvenient lane following the right bank of the Hull
River. Here were in former days the houses of the great Hull merchants,
and the Wilberforce House is about halfway down the street. It is a
curious specimen of brickwork, of a style said to have been imported
from Flanders in the reign of William and Mary. It is a low, broad house
with a surmounting tower over the doorway. Hull has little else of
interest in the way of buildings. Its Holy Trinity Church, in the
market-place, is the largest parish church in England, having recently
been thoroughly restored, and the Town Hall, built in the Italian style,
with a clock-tower, is its finest edifice of modern construction.



We have now come into Yorkshire, and a few minutes' ride northward by
railway along the valley of the Hull River brings the visitor to
Beverley, an old-fashioned Yorkshire town of considerable antiquity,
eight miles from the seaport. This was anciently a walled town, but of
the entrance-gates only one survives, the North Bar, of the time of
Edward III. It is a good specimen of brick architecture, with mouldings
and niches upon the surface and battlements at the top. This is a
favorite old town for the retired merchant and tradesman who wish to
pass the declining years of life in quiet, and it contains many ancient
buildings of interest. Several of these are clustered around the
picturesque market-square, which is an enclosure of about four acres,
and contains a quaint cross, a relic of the time when it was customary
to build market-crosses. These ancient crosses, which were practically
canopies erected over a raised platform, were generally used as pulpits
by the preachers when conducting religious services in the open air.
Sometimes they were memorials of the dead. We are told that there were
formerly five thousand of these crosses of various kinds in England, but
most of them were destroyed in the Civil Wars. At these old crosses
proclamations used to be read and tolls collected from the
market-people. The covered market-cross at Beverley was one of the last
that was erected. The name of this interesting town is said to be
derived from Beaver Lake, the site having at one time been surrounded by
lakes that were formed by the overflowing of the Humber, in which
beavers lived in great numbers. The Beverley Minster is an attractive
Gothic church, and from the tops of its towers there is an excellent
view over the rich and almost level valley through which the Hull River
flows. Leconfield Castle, in the suburbs, was an ancient residence of
the Percys, of which the moat alone remains.




Let us now ascend the estuary of the Humber, and, proceeding up its
numerous tributaries, seek out various places of interest in the West
Riding of Yorkshire. And first, ascending the river Don, we come to that
great manufacturing centre of the "Black Country," sacred to coal and
iron, Sheffield. Murray's _Guide_ tells us that while Sheffield is one
of the largest and most important towns in Yorkshire, it is "beyond all
question the blackest, dirtiest, and least respectable." Horace Walpole
in the last century wrote that Sheffield is "one of the foulest towns in
England in the most charming situation." It is a crowded city, with
narrow and badly-arranged streets, having few handsome public buildings,
but bristling with countless tall chimneys belching forth clouds of
heavy smoke that hang like a pall over the place. The Don and its
tributaries have their beds defiled, and altogether the smoky city is in
unpleasant contrast with the beauty of the surrounding country. But,
unfortunately, an omelette cannot be made without breaking eggs, nor can
Sheffield make cutlery without smoke and bad odors, all of which have
amazingly multiplied within the present century, its population having
grown from forty-five thousand in 1801 to over three hundred thousand
now. It stands at the confluence of the rivers Don and Sheaf, its name
being connected with the latter. Three smaller streams join them within
the city and are utilized for water-power. The factories spread over the
lowlands of the Don valley, and mount up its western slopes towards the
moorlands that stretch away to Derbyshire; it is therefore as hilly as
it is grimy. Sheffield at the time of the Norman Conquest was the manor
of Hallam, which has passed through various families, until, in the
seventeenth century, it became by marriage the property of the Duke of
Norfolk. The present duke is lord of the manor of Sheffield, and derives
a large income from his vast estates there. Sheffield Castle once stood
at the confluence of the two rivers, but all traces of it have
disappeared. The manor-house, which has been restored, dates from the
time of Henry VIII. It is three stories high, and a turret staircase
leads from floor to floor, and finally out upon the flat roof.


We are told that Sheffield manufactures of metals began in the days of
the Romans, and also that Sheffield-made arrows fell thickly at Crecy
and Agincourt. Richmond used them with effect at Bosworth Field, and in
the sixteenth century we read of Sheffield knives and whittles. Almost
the only ancient building of any note the city has is the parish church,
but it is so much patched and altered that there is difficulty in
distinguishing the newer from the older parts. The chief among the
modern buildings is the Cutlers' Hall, a Grecian structure erected for
the Cutlers Company in 1833, and enlarged a few years ago by the
addition of a handsome apartment. This company, the autocrats of
Sheffield, was founded in 1624 by act of Parliament with two express
objects--to keep a check upon the number of apprentices and to examine
into the quality of Sheffield wares, all of which were to be stamped
with the warranty of their excellence. But recently the restrictive
powers of this company have been swept away, and it is now little more
than a grantor of trade-marks and an excuse for an annual banquet.
Sheffield has extensive markets and parks, and the Duke of Norfolk is
conspicuous in his gifts of this character to the city; but overtopping
all else are the enormous works, which make everything into which iron
and steel can be converted, from armor-plating and railway-rails down to
the most delicate springs and highly-tempered cutlery. Their products go
to every part of the world, and are of enormous value and importance.



Upon the Calder, another tributary of the Humber, northward of the Don,
is the town of Wakefield, which, until the recent great growth of Leeds,
was the head-quarters of the Yorkshire clothing-trade. It was here that
in the Wars of the Roses the battle of Wakefield was fought on the
closing day of the year 1460. The Duke of York wished to remain at
Wakefield on the defensive against Queen Margaret's Lancastrian army of
twenty thousand men, for his forces were barely one-fourth that number.
The Earl of Salisbury, however, prevailed on him to advance to meet the
queen, and he probably had no idea of the strength she had to oppose
him. The duke was soon cut off, and was among the first to fall, his
head having afterwards been put on the Micklegate bar at York. Scenes of
great barbarity followed: the Duke of York's son, the Earl of Rutland,
was murdered with shocking cruelty after the battle on Wakefield Bridge.
Young Rutland's brother, afterwards Edward IV., erected a chapel on the
bridge on the spot where he was slain, in order that prayer might be
constantly said in it for the repose of the souls of the followers of
the White Rose who were slain in the battle. It covers thirty by
twenty-four feet, and has recently been restored by a successor of
Goldsmith's "Vicar of Wakefield." Near the bridge the spot is pointed
out where the Duke of York was killed, now marked by two willows. There
is a fine old three-gabled house in Wakefield which was built about the
same date as the battle was fought, and is now divided into small shops.
It is a good specimen of the ancient black-and-white timbered house,
though the carved work on the front has been considerably defaced. It
stands in the Kirkgate, which runs down to the Calder, and is known
locally as the "Six Chimblies."

[Illustration: WAKEFIELD.]



About nine miles north of Wakefield is the great commercial capital of
Yorkshire and centre of the cloth-trade. Leeds, built in the valley of
the river Aire. Twelve hundred years ago this region, embracing the
valleys of the Aire and the Calder, was the independent kingdom of
Loidis. It was soon overrun and conquered, however, by the Anglian
hosts, and ultimately the conquerors built here the monastery that in
Bede's time was presided over by the abbot Thrydwulf. This stood on the
site of the present parish church, and in the eighth century it was
called "the monastery at Leeta." It stood at the crossing of two
important Roman roads in the midst of a forest. This was the beginning
of the great city, for soon a hamlet gathered around the monastery,
though long since the woods, and indeed all green things, were driven
away from Leeds. The village was laid waste by William the Conqueror,
and at the time of the Domesday Book it was one of one hundred and fifty
manors held by Baron Ilbert de Lacy, whose possessions stretched halfway
across Yorkshire. He built a castle at Leeds, which was afterwards a
prison of Richard II., but has long since disappeared. In 1530, Leland
described Leeds as "a pretty market-town, as large as Bradford, but not
so quick as it." Charles I. incorporated it, and the cloth-market was
then of some importance. In the Civil War it was taken by the Royalists,
and afterwards retaken by Fairfax for the Parliament in a short, sharp
struggle, in which a clergyman named Scholfield distinguished himself by
his valor, and "by his triumphant psalm-singing" as work after work was
captured from the enemy. Flemish workmen brought cloth-making into this
part of Yorkshire as early as the reign of Edward III., and two
centuries ago the cloth-makers prospered so much that they held a market
twice a week at Leeds on a long, narrow bridge crossing the Aire. They
laid their cloth on the battlements of the bridge and on benches below,
and the country clothiers could buy for four cents from the innkeepers
"a pot of ale, a noggin of porridge, and a trencher of boiled or roast
beef." This substantial supply was known as the "brigg (bridge)-shot,"
and from the bridge ran the street known as the Briggate, which has
since developed into one of the finest avenues of the city.

[Illustration: ST JOHN'S CHURCH]

Leeds began to grow in the last century, when it became the chief mart
of the woollen clothiers, while the worsted-trade gathered about
Bradford. These still remain the centres of the two great divisions of
the woollen industry, which is the characteristic business of Yorkshire.
The factories began then to appear at Leeds, and in the present century
the city has made astonishing advances, growing from fifty-three
thousand population in 1801 until it exceeds three hundred thousand now.
The great cloth-mart to-day is for miles a region of tall chimneys and
barrack-like edifices, within which steadily roars machinery that
represents some of the most ingenious skill of the human race. Within
this hive of busy industry there still linger some memorials of the past
among its hundreds of cloth-mills. Turning out of the broad Briggate
into the quiet street of St. John, we come to the church built there by
the piety of the wealthy clothier John Harrison, and consecrated in
1634. St. John's Church, which he built and presented to the town
because the older parish church could scarce hold half the inhabitants,
consists of a long nave and chancel, with a south aisle. It is of Gothic
architecture, and much of the ancient woodwork, including the pulpit,
remains. Arabesques moulded in white plaster fill the panels between the
main roof-beams. This interesting church has undergone little historical
change excepting the recent rebuilding of the tower. John Harrison is
entombed in the church. The old parish church in Kirkgate has been
within a few years entirely rebuilt. The other churches of Leeds, like
this one, are all modern, and it also has an imposing Town Hall, opened
by the queen in 1858, in which are held the annual musical festivals,
which have attained much importance. A statue of the Duke of Wellington
stands in the open square in front. The two Cloth Halls of Leeds, the
Mixed Cloth Hall and the White Cloth Hall, where the business of selling
was at first carried on, are now little used, the trade being conducted
directly between the manufacturer and the clothier. Some of the mills
are of enormous size, and they include every operation from the raw
material to the finished fabric. But, with all their ingenious
machinery, the cloth-weavers have not yet been able to supersede the use
of the teasel, by which the loose fibres of wool are raised to the
surface to form, when cut and sheared, the pile or nap. These teasels,
which are largely grown in Yorkshire, are fastened into a cylinder, and
at least three thousand of them will be consumed in "teasling" a piece
of cloth forty yards long.




North of the valley of the Aire is the valley of the Wharfe River, and,
following that pleasant stream a short distance up, we come to Rumbald's
Moor and the water-cure establishments of the town of Ilkley, which is
an array of villas and terraces spreading up the hillside from the
southern bank of the river. The neighborhood is full of attractive
rock-and river-scenery. In the suburbs is the palace of Ben Rhydding,
built in the Scottish baronial style, with the Cow and Calf Rocks
overhanging the adjacent park. The Panorama Rock also commands a wide
prospect, while Rumbald's Moor itself is elevated over thirteen hundred
feet. A few miles from Ilkley are the celebrated ruins of Bolton Abbey,
standing on a patch of open ground, around which the Wharfe curves, but
with much woods clustering near the ruins and on the river-bank. Bolton
stands in a deep valley, and on the opposite side of the river rises the
steep rock of Simon's Seat, sixteen hundred feet high. The architecture
of the abbey is of various styles, the west front coming down to us from
the reign of Henry VIII., while its gateway is much older. There is no
south aisle to the abbey, and at present the nave and north aisle are
roofed in and serve as the parish church. The east end of this aisle is
divided from the rest by an ancient wooden screen so as to form a
chapel, and beneath this is the vault where the former owners of
Bolton--the Claphams and Mauleverers--were buried. Some years ago, when
the floor was being repaired, their coffins were found standing upright,
whereof the poet tells us:

  "Through the chinks in the fractured floor
    Look down and see a grisly sight--
    A vault where the bodies are buried upright
  There, face by face and hand by hand.
  The Claphams and Mauleverers stand."

The ruins of the north transept are in fair preservation, and the choir
has a beautiful arcade, while through the openings beneath there is a
charming view of the green-bordered river and of the hills beyond.
Bolton Hall, which was the ancient gateway of the abbey, is opposite its
western front, and is one of the favorite homes in the shooting season
of the Duke of Devonshire, its owner.

[Illustration: THE STRID.]

A pleasant walk of two miles along the Wharfe brings us to the famous
Strid, where the river is hemmed in between ledges of rock, and the
scene of the rushing waters is very fine, especially after a rain.
Beautiful paths wind along the hillsides and through the woods, and
here, where the ruins of Bardon Tower rise high above the valley, is a
favorite resort of artists. At the most contracted part of the rocky
river-passage the water rushes through a narrow trench cut out for about
sixty yards length, within which distance it falls ten feet. The noise
here is almost deafening, and at the narrowest part the distance across
is barely five feet. It looks easy to jump over, but from the peculiar
position of the slippery rocks and the confusing noise of the rushing
water it is a dangerous leap.

  "This striding-place is called 'the Strid.'
    A name which it took of yore.
  A thousand years hath it borne that name,
    And shall a thousand more."

It was here that young Romilly, the "Boy of Egremont," was drowned
several centuries ago, the story of his death being told by Wordsworth
in his poem of "The Force of Prayer." He had been ranging through Bardon
Wood, holding a greyhound in a leash, and tried to leap across the

  "He sprang in glee; for what cared he,
    That the river was strong and the rocks were steep?
  But the greyhound in the leash hung back,
    And checked him in his leap.

  "The boy is in the arms of Wharfe,
    And strangled by a merciless force;
  For nevermore was young Romilly seen
    Till he rose a lifeless corse."

It is said that his disconsolate mother built Bolton Abbey to
commemorate the death of her only son, and placed it in one of the most
picturesque spots in England.


[Illustration: RIPON MINSTER.]

Proceeding still farther northward from the charming vale of Wharfe, we
come to the valley of the Ure, which flows into the Ouse, a main
tributary of the Humber, and to the famous cathedral-town of Ripon. This
is a place of venerable antiquity, for it has been over twelve centuries
since a band of Scotch monks came from Melrose to establish a monastery
on the sloping headland above the Ure. A portion of the ancient church
then founded is incorporated in the present Ripon Minster, which was
built seven centuries ago. It was burned and partly injured by the
Scotch in the fourteenth century, and subsequently the central tower and
greater part of the nave were rebuilt. It has recently been entirely
restored. The cathedral consists of a nave, with aisles extending the
full width of the western front, and rather broad for its length; the
transepts are short. Parallel to the choir on the southern side is a
chapter-house. It is one of the smallest cathedrals in England, being
less than two hundred and ninety feet long, and other buildings so
encompass it as to prevent a good near view. There is an ample
churchyard, but the shrine of St. Wilfrid, the founder, whose relics
were the great treasure of the church, has long since disappeared. It
appears that in ancient times there was great quarrelling over the
possession of his bones, and that Archbishop Odo, declaring his grave to
be neglected, carried them off to Canterbury, but after much disputing a
small portion of the saint's remains were restored to Ripon. Beneath the
corner of the nave is the singular crypt known as Wilfrid's Needle. A
long passage leads to a cell from which a narrow window opens into
another passage. Through this window we are told that women whose virtue
was doubted were made to crawl, and if they stuck by the way were
adjudged guilty. This is the oldest part of the church, and is regarded
as the most perfect existing relic of the earliest age of Christianity
in Yorkshire. The cathedral contains some interesting monuments, one of
which demonstrates that epitaph-writing flourished in times agone at
Ripon. It commemorates, as "a faint emblem of his refined taste,"
William Weddell of Newby, "in whom every virtue that ennobles the human
mind was united with every elegance that adorns it."

[Illustration: STUDLEY ROYAL PARK.]


In the neighborhood of Ripon is the world-renowned Fountains Abbey, of
which the remains are in excellent preservation, and stand in a
beautiful situation on the verge of the fine estate of the Marquis of
Ripon, Studley Royal. The gates of this park are about two miles from
Ripon, the road winding among the trees, beneath which herds of deer are
browsing, and leading up to the mansion, in front of which is an
attractive scene. The little river Skell, on its way to the Ure, emerges
from a glen, and is banked up to form a lake, from which it tumbles over
a pretty cascade. The steep bank opposite is covered with trees. John
Aislabie, who had been chancellor of the exchequer, laid out this park
in 1720, and such repute did his ornamental works attain that Studley
was regarded as the most embellished spot in the North of England.
Ultimately, through heiresses, it passed into the hands of the present
owner. The pleasure-grounds were laid out in the Dutch style then in
vogue, and the slopes of the valley were terraced, planted with
evergreens, and adorned with statues. Modern landscape-gardening has
somewhat varied the details, but the original design remains. In the
gardens are the Octagon Tower, perched upon a commanding knoll, the
Temple of Piety, near the water-side, and an arbor known as Anne
Boleyn's Seat, which commands a superb view over Fountains Dale. Let us
enter this pretty glen, which gradually narrows, becomes more abrupt and
rocky, and as we go along the Skell leads us from the woods out upon a
level grassy meadow, at the end of which stand the gray ruins of the
famous Cistercian abbey. The buildings spread completely across the glen
to its craggy sides on either hand. On the right there is only room for
a road to pass between the transept and the limestone rock which rears
on high the trees rooted in its crannies, whose branches almost brush
the abbey's stately tower. On the other side is the little river, with
the conventual buildings carried across it in more than one place, the
water flowing through a vaulted tunnel. These buildings extend to the
bases of the opposite crags. The ruins are of great size, and it does
not take much imagination to restore the glen to its aspect when the
abbey was in full glory seven or eight hundred years ago. Its founders
came hither almost as exiles from York, and began building the abbey in
the twelfth century, but it was barely completed when Henry VIII. forced
the dissolution of the monasteries. It was very rich, and furnished rare
plunder when the monks were compelled to leave it. The close or
immediate grounds of the abbey contained about eighty acres, entered by
a gate-house to the westward of the church, the ruins of which can still
be seen. Near by is an old mill alongside the Skell, and a picturesque
bridge crosses the stream, while on a neighboring knoll are some ancient
yews which are believed to have sheltered the earliest settlers, and are
called the "Seven Sisters." But, unfortunately, only two now remain,
gnarled and twisted, with decaying trunks and falling limbs--ruins in
fact that are as venerable as Fountains Abbey itself. Botanists say they
are twelve hundred years old, and that they were full-grown trees when
the exiles from York first encamped alongside the Skell.


[Illustration: FOUNTAINS HALL.]

Entering the close, the ruins of the abbey church are seen in better
preservation than the other buildings. The roof is gone, for its
woodwork was used to melt down the lead by zealous Reformers in the
sixteenth century, and green grass has replaced the pavement. The ruins
disclose a noble temple, the tower rising one hundred and sixty-eight
feet. In the eastern transept is the beautiful "Chapel of the Nine
Altars" with its tall and slender columns, some of the clustering shafts
having fallen. For some distance southward and eastward from the church
extend the ruins of the other convent-buildings. In former times they
were used as a stone-quarry for the neighborhood, many of the walls
being levelled to the ground, but since the last century they have been
scrupulously preserved. The plan is readily traced, for excavations have
been made to better display the ruins. South of the nave of the church
was the cloister-court. On one side was the transept and chapter-house,
and on the other a long corridor supporting the dormitory. This was one
hundred yards long, extending across the river, and abutting against the
crags on the other side. South of the cloister-court was the refectory
and other apartments. To the eastward was a group of buildings
terminating in a grand house for the abbot, which also bridged the
river. All these are now in picturesque ruin, the long corridor, with
its vaulted roof supported by a central row of columns with broad
arches, being considered one of the most impressive religious remains in
England. One of the chief uses to which the Fountains Abbey stone-quarry
was devoted was the building, in the reign of James I., of a fine
Jacobean mansion as the residence for its then owner, Sir Stephen
Proctor. This is Fountains Hall, an elaborate structure of that period
which stands near the abbey gateway, and to a great extent atones, by
its quaint attractiveness, for the vandalism that despoiled the abbey to
furnish materials for its construction. In fact, the mournful reflection
is always uppermost in viewing the remains of this famous place that it
would have been a grand old ruin could it have been preserved, but the
spoilers who plundered it for their own profit are said to have
discovered, in the fleeting character of the riches thus obtained, that
ill-gotten gains never prosper.


[Illustration: RICHMOND CASTLE.]

Proceeding northward from Ripon, and crossing over into the valley of
the river Swale, we reach one of the most picturesquely located towns of
England--Richmond, whose great castle is among the best English remains
of the Norman era. The river flows over a broken and rocky bed around
the base of a cliff, and crowning the precipice above is the great
castle, magnificent even in decay. It was founded in the reign of
William the Conqueror by Alan the Red, who was created Earl of Richmond,
and it covers a space of about five acres on a rock projecting over the
river, the prominent tower of the venerable keep being surrounded by
walls and buildings. A lane leads up from the market-place of the town
to the castle-gate, alongside of which are Robin Hood's Tower and the
Golden Tower, the latter named from a tradition of a treasure being once
found there. The Scolland's Hall, a fine specimen of Norman work,
adjoins this tower. The keep is one hundred feet high and furnished with
walls eleven feet thick, time having had little effect upon its noble
structure, one of the most perfect Norman keep-towers remaining in
England. There is a grand view from the battlements over the romantic
valley of the Swale. In the village is an old gray tower, the only
remains of a Franciscan monastery founded in the thirteenth century, and
the ruins of Easby Abbey, dating from the twelfth century, are not far
away; its granary is still in use. The valley of the Swale may be
pursued for a long distance, furnishing constant displays of romantic
scenery, or, if that is preferred, excellent trout-fishing.



From the high hills in the neighborhood of Fountains Dale there is a
magnificent view over the plain of York, and we will now proceed down
the valley of the Ouse to the venerable city that the Romans called
Eboracum, and which is the capital of a county exceeding in extent many
kingdoms and principalities of Europe. This ancient British stronghold
has given its name to the metropolis of the New World, but the modern
Babylon on the Hudson has far outstripped the little city on the equally
diminutive Ouse. It was Ebrane, the king of the Brigantes, who is said
to have founded York, but so long ago that he is believed a myth.
Whatever its origin, a settlement was there before the Christian era,
but nothing certain is known of it beyond the fact that it existed when
the Romans invaded Britain and captured York, with other strongholds, in
the first century of the Christian era. Eboracum was made the
head-quarters of their fifth legion, and soon became the chief city of a
district now rich in the relics of the Roman occupation, their dead
being still found thickly buried around the town. Portions of the walls
of Eboracum remain, among them being that remarkable relic, the tower,
polygonal in plan, which is known as the Multangular Tower, and which
marks the south-western angle of the ancient Roman city. Not far away
are the dilapidated ruins of St. Mary's Abbey, once one of the
wealthiest and proudest religious houses in the North of England, but
with little now left but portions of the foundations, a gateway, and the
north and west walls of the nave. This abbey was founded in the eleventh
century, and it was from here that the exiled monks who built Fountains
Abbey were driven out. This ruin has been in its present condition for
nearly two hundred and fifty years.

For over three centuries Eboracum was a great Roman city. Here came the
emperor Severus and died in 211, his body being cremated and the ashes
conveyed to Rome. When the empire was divided, Britain fell to the share
of Constantius Chlorus, and he made Eboracum his home, dying there in
305. Constantine the Great, his son, was first proclaimed emperor at
Eboracum. When the Romans departed evil days fell upon York; the
barbarians destroyed it, and it was not till 627 that it reappeared in
history, when Eadwine, King of Northumbria, was baptized there by St.
Paulinus on Easter Day, a little wooden church being built for the
purpose. Then began its ecclesiastical eminence, for Paulinus was the
first Archbishop of York, beginning a line of prelates that has
continued unbroken since. In the eighth century the Northmen began their
incursions, and from spoilers ultimately became settlers. York
prospered, being thronged with Danish merchants, and in the tenth
century had thirty thousand population. In King Harold's reign the
Northmen attacked and captured the town, when Harold surprised and
defeated them, killing their leader Tostig, but no sooner had he won the
victory than he had to hasten southward to meet William the Norman, and
be in turn vanquished and slain. York resisted William, but he
ultimately conquered the city and built a castle there, but being
rebellious the people attacked the castle. He returned and chastised
them and built a second castle on the Ouse; but the discontent deepened,
and a Danish fleet appearing in the Humber there was another rebellion,
and the Norman garrison firing the houses around the castle to clear the
ground for its better defence, the greater part of the city was
consumed. While this was going on the Danes arrived, attacked and
captured both castles, slaughtered their entire garrisons of three
thousand men, and were practically unopposed by the discontented people.
Then it was that the stalwart Norman William swore "by the splendor of
God" to avenge himself on Northumbria, and, keeping his pledge, he
devastated the entire country north of the Humber.

York continued to exist without making much history for several
centuries, till the Wars of the Roses came between the rival houses of
York and Lancaster. In this York bore its full part, but it was at first
the Lancastrian king who was most frequently found at York, and not the
duke who bore the title. But after Towton Field, on Palm Sunday, March
29, 1461, the most sanguinary battle ever fought in England, one hundred
thousand men being engaged, the news of their defeat was brought to the
Lancastrian king Henry and Queen Margaret at York, and they soon became
fugitives, and their youthful adversary, the Duke of York, was crowned
Edward IV. in York Minster. In the Civil War it was in York that Charles
I. took refuge, and from that city issued his first declaration of war
against the Parliament. For two years York was loyal to the king, and
then the fierce siege took place in which the Parliamentary forces
ruined St. Mary's Abbey by undermining and destroying its tower. Prince
Rupert raised this siege, but the respite was not long. Marston Moor saw
the king defeated, Rupert's troopers being, as the historian tells us,
made as "stubble to the swords of Cromwell's Ironsides." The king's
shattered army retreated to York, was pursued, and in a fortnight York
surrendered to the Parliamentary forces. The city languished afterwards,
losing its trade, and developing vast pride, but equal poverty. Since
the days of railways, however, it has become a very important junction,
and has thus somewhat revived its activity.


[Illustration: YORK MINSTER.]

The walls of York are almost as complete as those of Chester, while its
ancient gateways are in much better preservation. The gateways, called
"bars," are among the marked features of the city, and the streets
leading to them are called "gates." The chief of these is Micklegate,
the highroad leading to the south, the most important street in York,
and Micklegate Bar is the most graceful in design of all, coming down
from Tudor days, with turrets and battlements pierced with cross-shaped
loopholes and surmounted by small stone figures of warriors. It was on
this bar that the head of the Duke of York was exposed, and the ghastly
spectacle greeted his son, Edward IV., as he rode into the town after
Towton Field. It did not take long to strike off the heads of several
distinguished prisoners and put them in his place as an expiatory
offering. Here also whitened the heads of traitors down to as late as
the last Jacobite rebellion. One of the buttresses of the walls of York
is the Red Tower, so called from the red brick of which it is built.
These walls and gates are full of interesting relics of the olden time,
and they are still preserved to show the line of circumvallation of the
ancient walled city. But the chief glory of York is its famous minster,
on which the hand of time has been lightly laid. When King Eadwine was
baptized in the little wooden church hastily erected for the purpose, he
began building at the same place, at the suggestion of Paulinus, a large
and more noble basilica of stone, wherein the little church was to be
included. But before it was completed the king was slain, and his head
was brought to York and buried in the portico of the basilica. This
church fell into decay, and was burned in the eighth century. On its
site was built a much larger minster, which was consumed in William the
Conqueror's time, when the greater part of York was burned. From its
ashes rose the present magnificent minster, portions of which were
building from the eleventh to the fifteenth century, it being completed
as we now see it in 1470, and reconsecrated as the cathedral of St.
Peter with great pomp in 1472. Its chief treasure, was the shrine of St.
William, the nephew of King Stephen, a holy man of singularly gentle
character. When he came into York it is said the pressure of the crowd
was so great that it caused the fall of a bridge over the Ouse, but the
saint by a miracle saved all their lives. The shrine was destroyed at
the Reformation, and the relics buried in the nave, where they were
found in the last century. York Minster remained almost unchanged until
1829, when a lunatic named Martin concealed himself one night in the
cathedral and set fire to the woodwork of the choir, afterwards escaping
through a transept-window. The fire destroyed the timber roofs of the
choir and nave and the great organ. Martin was arrested, and confined in
an asylum until he died. The restoration cost $350,000, and had not long
been completed when some workmen accidentally set fire to the
south-western tower, which gutted it, destroyed the bells, and burned
the roof of the nave. This mischief cost $125,000 to repair, and the
southern transept, which was considered unsafe, has since been partially

[Illustration: CHOIR OF YORK MINSTER.]

Few English cathedrals exceed York Minster in dignity and massive
grandeur. It is the largest Gothic church in the kingdom, and contains
one of the biggest bells. "Old Peter," weighing ten and three-quarter
tons, and struck regularly every day at noon. The minster is five
hundred and twenty-four feet long, two hundred and twenty-two feet wide,
ninety-nine feet high in the nave, and its towers rise about two hundred
feet, the central tower being two hundred and twelve feet high. Its
great charms are its windows, most of them containing the original
stained glass, some of it nearly six hundred years old. The east window
is the largest stained-glass window in the world, seventy-seven by
thirty-two feet, and of exquisite design, being made by John Thornton of
Coventry in 1408, who was paid one dollar per week wages and got a
present of fifty dollars when he finished it. At the end of one transept
is the Five Sisters Window, designed by five nuns, each planning a tall,
narrow sash; and a beautiful rose-window is at the end of the other
transept. High up in the nave the statue of St. George stands on one
side defying the dragon, who pokes out his head on the other. Its tombs
are among the minster's greatest curiosities. The effigy of Archbishop
Walter de Grey, nearly six hundred and fifty years old, is stretched out
in an open coffin lying under a superb canopy, and the corpse instead of
being in the ground is overhead in the canopy. All the walls are full of
memorial tablets--a few modern ones to English soldiers, but most of
them ancient. Strange tombs are also set in the walls, bearing effigies
of the dead. Sir William Gee stands up with his two wives, one on each
side, and his six children--all eight statues having their hands folded.
Others sit up like Punch and Judy, the women dressed in hoops,
farthingales, and ruffs, the highest fashions of their age. Here is
buried Wentworth, second Earl of Strafford, and scores of archbishops.
The body of the famous Hotspur is entombed in the wall beneath the great
east window. Burke's friend Saville is buried here, that statesman
having written his epitaph. The outside of the minster has all sorts of
grotesque protuberances, which, according to the ancient style of
church-building, represent the evil spirits that religion casts out.
Adjoining the north transept, and approached through a beautiful
vestibule, is the chapter-house, an octagonal building sixty-three feet
in diameter and surmounted by a pyramidal roof. Seven of its sides are
large stained-glass windows, and the ceiling is a magnificent work.


[Illustration: CLIFFORD'S TOWER.]

[Illustration: THE SHAMBLES.]

York Castle occupied a peninsula between the Ouse and a branch called
the Foss. Of this Clifford's Tower is about all of the ancient work
that remains. It rises on its mound high above the surrounding
buildings, and was the keep of the ancient fortress, constructed
according to a remarkable and unique plan, consisting of parts of four
cylinders running into each other. It dates from Edward I., but the
entrance was built by Clifford, Earl of Cumberland, its governor under
Charles I. The interior of the tower was afterwards burned, and George
Fox, the founder of the Society of Friends, who was imprisoned there,
planted a walnut tree within the tower which is still growing. It was in
the keep of the Norman castle, which this tower replaced, that the
massacre of the Jews, which grew out of race-jealousy at their great
wealth, occurred in 1190. On March 16th the house of Benet, the leading
Jew in York, was sacked by a mob and his wife and children murdered.
Five hundred of his countrymen then sought refuge in the castle, and
those who remained outside were killed. The mob besieged the castle, led
by a hermit from the neighborhood "famed for zeal and holiness," who was
clothed in white robes, and each morning celebrated mass and inflamed
the fury of the besiegers by his preaching. At last he ventured too near
the walls, and was brained by a stone. Battering-rams were then brought
up, and a night's carouse was indulged in before the work of knocking
down the castle began. Within was a different scene: the Jews were
without food or hope. An aged rabbi, who had come as a missionary from
the East, and was venerated almost as a prophet, exhorted his brethren
to render up freely their lives to God rather than await death at the
enemy's hands. Nearly all decided to follow his counsel; they fired the
castle, destroyed their property, killed their wives and children, and
then turned their swords upon themselves. Day broke, and the small
remnant who dared not die called from the walls of the blazing castle
that they were anxious for baptism and "the faith and peace of Christ."
They were promised everything, opened the gates, and were all massacred.
In later years York Castle has enclosed some well-known prisoners, among
them Eugene Aram, and Dick Turpin, who was hanged there. The York
elections and mass-meetings are held in the courtyard.

Here Wilberforce, who long represented York in Parliament, spoke in
1784, when Boswell wrote of him: "I saw what seemed a mere shrimp mount
upon the table, but as I listened he grew and grew until the shrimp
became a whale." The York streets are full of old houses, many with
porches and overhanging fronts. One of the most curious rows is the
Shambles, on a narrow street and dating from the fourteenth century. A
little way out of town is the village of Holgate, which was the
residence of Lindley Murray the grammarian. Guy Fawkes is said to have
been a native of York, and this strange and antique old city, we are
also credibly assured, was in 1632 the birthplace of Robinson Crusoe.



Starting north-east from York towards the coast, we go along the pretty
valley of the Derwent, and not far from the borders of the stream come
to that magnificent pile, the seat of the Earls of Carlisle--Castle
Howard. More than a century ago Walpole wrote of it: "Lord Strafford had
told me that I should see one of the finest places in Yorkshire, but
nobody had informed me that I should at one view see a palace, a town, a
fortified city: temples on high places; woods worthy of being each a
metropolis of the Druids; vales connected to hills by other woods; the
noblest lawn in the world, fenced by half the horizon; and a mausoleum
that would tempt one to be buried alive. In short, I have seen gigantic
places before, but never a sublimer one." Castle Howard was the work of
Vanbrugh, the designer of Blenheim, and in plan is somewhat similar, but
much more sober and simple, with a central cupola that gives it dignity.
It avoids many of the faults of Blenheim: its wings are more subdued, so
that the central colonnade stands out to greater advantage, and there
are few more imposing country-houses in England than this palace of the
Howards. This family are scions of the ducal house of Norfolk, so that
"all the blood of all the Howards," esteemed the bluest blood in the
kingdom, runs in their veins. The Earls of Carlisle are descended from
"Belted Will"--Lord William Howard, the lord warden of the Marches in
the days of the first Stuart--whose stronghold was at Naworth Castle,
twelve miles north-east of Carlisle. His grandson took an active part in
the restoration of Charles II., and in recompense was created the first
Earl of Carlisle. His bones lie in York Minster. His grandson, the third
earl, who was deputy earl-marshal at the coronation of Queen Anne, built
Castle Howard. The seventh earl, George William Frederick, was for eight
years viceroy in Ireland, resigning in 1864 on account of ill-health;
and it is said that he was one of the few English rulers who really won
the affections of the people of that unhappy country. He died soon



Leaving the railway-station in the valley of the Derwent, and mounting
the hills to the westward, a little village is reached on the confines
of the park. Beyond the village the road to the park-gates passes
through meadow-land, and is bordered by beautiful beech trees arranged
in clusters of about a dozen trees in each, producing an unusual but
most happy effect. The gateway is entered, a plain building in a
castellated wall--this being Walpole's "fortified city"--and, proceeding
up a slope, the fine avenue of beeches crosses another avenue of lime
trees. Here is placed an obelisk erected in honor of John Churchill,
Duke of Marlborough, which also bears an inscription telling of the
erection of Castle Howard. It recites that the house was built on the
site of the old castle of Hinderskelf, and was begun in 1702 by Charles,
the third Earl of Carlisle, who set up this inscription in 1731. The
happy earl, pleased with the grand palace and park he had created, thus
addresses posterity on the obelisk:

  "If to perfection these plantations rise,
  If they agreeably my heirs surprise,
  This faithful pillar will their age declare
  As long as time these characters shall spare.
  Here, then, with kind remembrance read his name
  Who for posterity performed the same."

The avenue then leads on past the north front of the castle, standing in
a fine situation upon a ridge between two shallow valleys. The bed of
the northern valley has been converted into a lake, while on the
southern slopes are beautiful and extensive lawns and gardens. The house
forms three sides of a hollow square, and within, it is interesting in
pictures and ornaments. It is cut up, however, into small rooms and
long, chilly corridors, which detract from its good effect. The
entrance-hall is beneath the central dome and occupies the whole height
of the structure, but it is only about thirty-five feet square, giving a
sense of smallness. Frescoes decorate the walls and ceilings. The public
apartments, which are in several suites opening into each other and
flanked by long corridors, are like a museum, so full are they of rare
works of art, china, glass, and paintings. Much of the collection came
from the Orleans Gallery. There are also many portraits in black and red
chalk by Janet, a French artist who flourished in the sixteenth century.
Some of the paintings are of great value, and are by Rubens, Caracci,
Canaletti, Tintoretto, Titian, Hogarth, Bellini, Mabuse, Holbein, Lely,
Vandyke, Reynolds, Gainsborough, and others. The Castle Howard
collection is exceptionally valuable in historical portraits. The
windows of the drawing-room look out upon extensive flower-gardens,
laid out in rather formal style with antique vases and statues. Beyond
these gardens is seen a circular temple placed upon a knoll, the
"mausoleum" which so moved Walpole. Here the former owners of the castle
are buried, a constant _memento mori_ to the tenants of the house,
though the taste certainly seems peculiar that has made the family tomb
the most prominent object in the view from the drawing-room windows.


Not far from Castle Howard are the ruins of Kirkham Priory. A charming
fragment of this noble church remains in a grassy valley on the margin
of the Derwent. Here, nearly eight hundred years ago, the Augustinians
established the priory, the founder being Sir Walter l'Espec, one of the
leaders of the English who drove back King David's Scottish invasion at
the battle of the Standard, near Durham. Sir Walter had an only son, who
was one day riding near the site of Kirkham when a wild boar suddenly
rushed across his path. The horse plunged and threw his rider, who,
striking head-foremost against a projecting stone, was killed. Sir
Walter, being childless, determined to devote his wealth to the service
of God, and founded three religious houses--one in Bedfordshire, another
at Rievaulx, where he sought refuge from his sorrows, and the third at
the place of his son's death at Kirkham. Legend says that the youth was
caught by his foot in the stirrup when thrown, and was dragged by his
runaway horse to the spot where the high altar was afterwards located.
Sir Walter's sister married into the family of De Ros, among the
ancestors of the Dukes of Rutland, and they were patrons of Kirkham
until the dissolution of the monasteries. Little remains of it: the
gate-house still stands, and in front is the base of a cross said to
have been made from the stone against which the boy was thrown.
Alongside this stone they hold a "bird-fair" every summer, where
jackdaws, starlings, and other birds are sold, with a few rabbits thrown
in; but the fair now is chiefly an excuse for a holiday. The church was
three hundred feet long, with the convent-buildings to the southward,
but only scant ruins remain. Beyond the ruins, at the edge of the
greensward, the river glides along under a gray stone bridge. At
Howsham, in the neighborhood, Hudson the railway king was born, and at
Foston-le-Clay Sydney Smith lived, having for his friends the Earl and
Countess of Carlisle of that day, who made their first call in a gold
coach and got stuck fast in the clay. Here the witty vicar resided,
having been presented to a living, and built himself a house, which he
described as "the ugliest in the county," but admitted by all critics to
be "one of the most comfortable," though located "twenty miles from a
lemon." Subsequently Smith left here for Somersetshire.


The coast of Yorkshire affords the boldest and grandest scenery on the
eastern shore of England. A great protruding backbone of chalk rocks
projects far into the North Sea at Flamborough Head, and makes one of
the most prominent landmarks on all that rugged, iron-bound coast. This
is the Ocellum Promontorium of Ptolemy, and its lighthouse is three
hundred and thirty feet above the sea, while far away over the waters
the view is superb. From Flamborough Head northward beyond Whitby the
coast-line is a succession of abrupt white cliffs and bold headlands,
presenting magnificent scenery. About twenty-three miles north of
Flamborough is the "Queen of Northern Watering-places," as Scarborough
is pleased to be called, where a bold headland three hundred feet high
juts out into the North Sea for a mile, having on each side semicircular
bays, each about a mile and a quarter wide. At the extreme point of the
lozenge-shaped promontory stands the ruined castle which named the town
Scar-burgh, with the sea washing the rocky base of its foundations on
three sides. Steep cliffs run precipitously down to the narrow beach
that fringes these bays around, and on the cliffs is the town of
Scarborough, while myriads of fishing-vessels cluster about the
breakwater-piers that have been constructed to make a harbor of refuge.
It would be difficult to find a finer situation, and art has improved it
to the utmost, especially as mineral springs add the attractions of a
spa to the sea air and bathing. The old castle, battered by war and the
elements, is a striking ruin, the precipitous rock on which it stands
being a natural fortress. The Northmen when they first invaded Britain
made its site their stronghold, but the present castle was not built
until the reign of King Stephen, when its builder, William le Gros, Earl
of Albemarle, was so powerful in this part of Yorkshire that it was said
he was "in Stephen's days the more real king." But Henry II. compelled
the proud earl to submit to his authority, though "with much searching
of heart and choler," and Scarborough afterwards became one of the royal
castles, Edward I. in his earlier years keeping court there. It was
there that Edward II. was besieged and his favorite Gaveston starved
into surrender, and then beheaded on Blacklow Hill in violation of the
terms of his capitulation. Scarborough was repeatedly attacked by the
Scotch, but it subsequently enjoyed an interval of peace until the
Reformation. In Wyatt's rebellion his friends secured possession of the
castle by stratagem. A number of his men, disguised as peasants, on
market-day strolled one by one into the castle, and then at a given
signal overpowered the sentinels and admitted the rest of their band.
The castle, however, was soon recaptured from the rebels, and Thomas
Stafford, the leader in this enterprise, was beheaded. From this event
is derived the proverb of a "Scarborough warning"--a word and a blow,
but the blow first. In Elizabeth's reign Scarborough was little else but
a fishing-village, and so unfortunate that it appealed to the queen for
aid. In the Civil War the castle was held by the Royalists, and was
besieged for six months. While the guns could not reduce it, starvation
did, and the Parliamentary army took possession. Three years later the
governor declared for the king, and the castle again stood a five
months' siege, finally surrendering. Since then it has fallen into
decay, but it was a prison-house for George Fox the Quaker, who was
treated with severity there. A little way down the hill are the ruins of
the ancient church of St. Mary, which has been restored.



The cliffs on the bay to the south of Castle Hill have been converted
into a beautifully-terraced garden and promenade. Here, amid flowers and
summer houses and terraced walks, is the fashionable resort, the
footpaths winding up and down the face of the cliffs or broadening into
the gardens, where music is provided and there are nightly
illuminations. Millions of money have been expended in beautifying the
front of the cliffs adjoining the Spa, which is on the seashore, and to
which Scarborough owed its original fame as a watering-place. The
springs were discovered in 1620, and by the middle of the last century
had become fashionable, but the present ornamental Spa was erected only
about forty years ago. There is a broad esplanade in front. There are
two springs, one containing more salt, lime, and magnesia sulphates than
the other. In the season, this esplanade--in fact, the entire front of
the cliffs--is full of visitors, while before it are rows of little
boxes on wheels, the bathing-houses that are drawn into the water. The
surf is usually rather gentle, however, though the North Sea can knock
things about at a lively rate in a storm.

North of Scarborough the coast extends, a grand escarpment of cliffs and
headlands, past Robin Hood's Bay, with its rocky barriers, the North
Cheek and the South Cheek, to the little harbor of another
watering-place, Whitby. The cliffs here are more precipitous and the
situation even more picturesque than at Scarborough. The river Esk has
carved a deep glen in the Yorkshire moorland, and in this the town
nestles, climbing the steep banks on either side of the river. The ruins
of Whitby Abbey are located high up on the side of the ravine opposite
to the main part of the town, and they still present a noble if
dilapidated pile. The nave fell after a storm in the last century, and a
similar cause threw down the central tower in 1830. The choir and
northern transept are still standing, extremely beautiful Early English
work: only fragments of other portions of the abbey remain. This was in
olden times the Westminster of Northumbria, containing the tombs of
Eadwine and of Oswy, with kings and nobles grouped around them. It has
been over twelve hundred years since a religious house was founded at
Whitby, at first known as the White Homestead, an outgrowth of the
abbey, which was founded by Oswy and presided over by the sainted Hilda,
who chose the spot upon the lonely crags by the sea. The fame of Whitby
as a place of learning soon spread, and here lived the cowherd Cædmon,
the first English poet. The Danes sacked and burned it but after the
Norman Conquest, under the patronage of the Percies, the abbey grew in
wealth and fame. Fragments of the monastery yet remain, and on the hill
a little lower down is the parish church, with a long flight of steps
leading up to it from the harbor along which the people go, and when
there is a funeral the coffin has to be slung in order to be carried up
the steps. Whitby is famous for its jet, which is worked into numerous
ornaments: this is a variety of fossil wood, capable of being cut and
taking a high polish. It is also celebrated for its production of
iron-ore, which indeed is a product of all this part of Yorkshire; while
at night, along the valley of the Tees, not far north of Whitby, the
blaze of the myriads of furnaces light up the heavens like the fire of
Vesuvius in the Bay of Naples. Among the tales of the abbey is that

    "Whitby's nuns exulting told,
  How to their house three barons bold
  Must menial service do."

[Illustration: WHITBY ABBEY.]

It appears that three gentlemen--De Bruce, De Percy, and Allaston--were
hunting boars on the abbey-lands in 1159, and roused a fine one, which
their dogs pressed hard and chased to the hermitage, where it ran into
the chapel and dropped dead. The hermit closed the door against the
hounds, and the hunters, coming up, were enraged to find the dogs
baulked of their prey, and on the hermit's opening the door they
attacked him with their boar-spears and mortally wounded him. It was not
long before they found that this was dangerous sport, and they took
sanctuary at Scarborough. The Church, however, did not protect those who
had insulted it, and they were given up to the abbot of Whitby, who was
about to make an example of them when the dying hermit summoned the
abbot and the prisoners to his bedside and granted them their lives and
lands. But it was done upon a peculiar tenure: upon Ascension Day at
sunrise they were to come to the wood on Eskdale-side, and the abbot's
officer was to deliver to each "ten stakes, eleven stout stowers, and
eleven yethers, to be cut by you, or some of you, with a knife of one
penny price;" these they were to take on their backs to Whitby before
nine o'clock in the morning. Then said the hermit, "If it be full sea
your labor and service shall cease; and if low water, each of you shall
set your stakes to the brim, each stake one yard from the other, and so
yether them on each side with your yethers, and so stake on each side
with your stout stowers, that they may stand three tides without
removing by the force thereof. You shall faithfully do this in
remembrance that you did most cruelly slay me, and that you may the
better call to God for mercy, repent unfeignedly of your sins, and do
good works. The officer of Eskdale-side shall blow, 'Out on you, out on
you, out on you for this heinous crime!'" Failure of this strange
service was to forfeit their lands to the abbot of Whitby.




We have now come into a region of coal and iron, with mines and furnaces
in abundance, and tall chimneys in all the villages pouring out black
smoke. All the country is thoroughly cultivated, and the little streams
bubbling over the stones at the bottoms of the deep valleys, past
sloping green fields and occasional patches of woods where the land is
too steep for cultivation, give picturesqueness to the scene. We have
crossed over the boundary from Yorkshire into Durham, and upon the very
crooked little river Wear there rise upon the tops of the precipitous
cliffs bordering the stream, high elevated above the red-tiled roofs of
the town, the towers of Durham Cathedral and Castle. They stand in a
remarkable position. The Wear, swinging around a curve like an elongated
horseshoe, has excavated a precipitous valley out of the rocks. At the
narrower part of the neck there is a depression, so that the promontory
around which the river sweeps appears like the wrist with the hand
clenched. The town stands at the depression, descending the slopes on
either side to the river, and also spreading upon the opposite banks.
The castle bars the access to the promontory, upon which stands the
cathedral. Thus, almost impregnably fortified, the ancient bishops of
Durham were practically sovereigns, and they made war as quickly as they
would celebrate a mass if their powers were threatened, for they bore
alike the sword and the crozier. Durham was founded to guard the relics
of the famous St. Cuthbert of Lindisfarne, the great ascetic of the
early English Church, distinguished above all others for the severity of
his mortifications and his abhorrence of women. At his shrine, we are
told, none of the gentler sex might worship; they were admitted to the
church, but in the priory not even a queen could lodge. Queen Philippa
was once admitted there as a guest, but a tumult arose, and she had to
flee half dressed for safety to the castle. St. Cuthbert was a hermit to
whom the sight of human beings was a weariness and the solitude of the
desert a delight. He was born in Scotland about the middle of the
seventh century, of humble origin, and passed his early years as a
shepherd near Melrose. He adopted an austere life, found a friend in the
abbot of Melrose, and ultimately sickened of an epidemic, his recovery
being despaired of. In answer, however, to the prayers of the monks, he
was restored to health as by a miracle, and became the prior of Melrose.
Afterwards he was for twelve years prior of Lindisfarne, an island off
the Northumbrian coast, but the craving for solitude was too strong to
be resisted, and he became a hermit. He went to Farne, a lonely rocky
island in the neighboring sea, and, living in a hut, spent his life in
prayer and fasting, but having time, according to the legend, to work
abundant miracles. A spring issued from the rock to give him water, the
sea laid fagots at his feet, and the birds ministered to his wants. At
first other monks had free access to him, but gradually he secluded
himself in the hut, speaking to them through the window, and ultimately
closed even that against them except in cases of emergency. Such
sanctity naturally acquired wide fame, and after long urging he
consented to become a bishop, at first at Hexham, afterwards at
Lindisfarne, thus returning to familiar scenes and an island home. But
his life was ebbing, and after two years' service he longed again for
his hermit's hut on the rock of Farne. He resigned the bishopric, and,
returning to his hut, in a few weeks died. His brethren buried him
beside his altar, where he rested eleven years; then exhuming the body,
it was found thoroughly preserved, and was buried again in a new coffin
at Lindisfarne. Almost two hundred years passed, when the Danes made an
incursion, and to escape them the monks took the body, with other
precious relics, and left Lindisfarne. During four years they wandered
about with their sacred charge, and ultimately settled near
Chester-le-Street, where the body of St. Cuthbert rested for over a
century; but another Danish invasion in 995 sent the saint's bones once
more on their travels, and they were taken to Ripon. The danger past,
the monks started on their return, transporting the coffin on a
carriage. They had arrived at the Wear, when suddenly the carriage
stopped and was found to be immovable. This event no doubt had a
meaning, and the monks prayed and fasted for three days to learn what it
was. Then the saint appeared in a vision and said he had chosen this
spot for his abode. It was a wild place, known as Dunhelm: the monks
went to the Dun, or headland, and erected a tabernacle for their ark
from the boughs of trees while they built a stone church, within which,
in the year 999, the body was enshrined. This church stood until after
the Norman Conquest, when the king made its bishop the Earl of Durham,
and his palatinate jurisdiction began.

The present Durham Cathedral was begun in 1093, with the castle
alongside. As we look at them from the railway-station, they stand a
monument of the days when the same hand grasped the pastoral staff and
the sword--"half house of God, half castle 'gainst the Scot." Upon the
top of the rocks, which are clad in foliage to the river's edge, on the
left hand, supported by massive outworks built up from halfway down the
slope, rises the western face of the castle. Beyond this, above a fringe
of trees, rises the lofty cathedral, its high central tower forming the
apex of the group and its two western towers looking down into the
ravine. The galilee in front appears built up from the depths of the
valley, and is supported by outworks scarcely less solid than those of
the castle. Durham, more than any other place in England, is a memorial
of the temporal authority of the Church, uniting the mitre and the
coronet. The plan of Durham Cathedral is peculiar in having the closed
galilee at the western end, instead of the open porch as is usual, while
the eastern end, which is wider than the choir, terminates abruptly,
having no Lady Chapel, but being in effect cut off, with a gable in the
centre and a great rose-window. As the galilee overhangs the ravine, the
principal entrance to the cathedral is from a fine northern porch. To
the portal is affixed a large knocker of quaint design, which in former
days was a Mecca for the fugitive, for the shrine of St. Cuthbert
enjoyed the right of sanctuary. When the suppliant grasped this knocker
he was safe, for over the door two monks kept perpetual watch to open at
the first stroke. As soon as admitted the suppliant was required to
confess his crime, whatever it might be. This was written down, and a
bell in the galilee tolled to announce the fact that some one had sought
"the peace of Cuthbert;" and he was then clothed in a black gown with a
yellow cross on the shoulder. After thirty-seven days, if no pardon
could be obtained, the malefactor solemnly abjured his native land for
ever, and was conveyed to the seacoast, bearing a white wooden cross in
his hand, and was sent out of the kingdom by the first ship that sailed.



The interior of Durham Cathedral is regarded as the noblest Norman
construction yet remaining in England. The arcade, triforium, and
clerestory are in fine proportion; the nave has a vaulted roof of
stone, and the alternate columns are clustered in plan, their middle
shafts extending from floor to roof. These columns are enriched with
zigzag, lattice, spiral, and vertical flutings. This cathedral, begun in
1093, was nearly two centuries building, and the Chapel of Nine Altars,
in honor of various saints, was erected at the eastern end in the
twelfth century. Some of these altars did duty for a pair of saints, St.
Cuthbert sharing the central one with St. Bede, a name only second to
his in the memories of Durham, so that the nine altars were availed of
to reverence sixteen saints. Behind the reredos a platform extends a
short distance into this chapel at a height of six feet above the floor.
A large blue flagstone is let into the platform, with shallow grooves on
either hand. Here stood St. Cuthbert's shrine, highly ornamented, and
having seats underneath for the pilgrims and cripples who came to pray
for relief. This being never wanting, we are told that the shrine came
to be so richly invested that it was esteemed one of the most sumptuous
monuments in England, so numerous were the offerings and jewels bestowed
upon it. Among the relics here accumulated was the famous Black Rood of
Scotland, the prize of the battle of Neville's Cross, fought near
Durham. There were also many relics of saints and martyrs, scraps of
clothing of the Saviour and the Virgin, pieces of the crown of thorns
and of the true cross, vials containing the milk of the Virgin Mother
and the blood of St. Thomas, besides elephants' tusks and griffins'
claws and eggs, with myriads of jewels. In 1104, St. Cuthbert's body was
deposited in this shrine with solemn ceremonies, and it rested there
undisturbed until the dissolution of the monasteries, reverentially
watched, day and night, by monks stationed in an adjoining chamber. Then
the shrine was destroyed and the treasures scattered, the coffin opened,
and St. Cuthbert buried beneath the slab, so that now the only remnants
visible are the furrows worn in the adjoining pavement by the feet of
the ancient worshippers. Tradition tells that the exact position of St.
Cuthbert's grave is known only to three Benedictine monks, of whom Scott

  "There, deep in Durham's Gothic shade,
  His relics are in secret laid,
    But none may know the place,
  Save of his holiest servants three,
  Deep sworn to solemn secrecy,
    Who share that wondrous grace."

The corpse, however, rests beneath the blue slab. In 1827 it was raised,
and, while other human remains were found, there was disclosed beneath
them, in a coffin, a skeleton vested in mouldering robes, and with it
various treasures, which, with the robes, accord with the description of
those present in St. Cuthbert's coffin when opened in 1104. The skeleton
was reinterred in a new coffin, and the relics, particularly an ancient
golden cross and a comb, were placed in the cathedral library.


In the galilee of Durham Cathedral, near the south-eastern angle, is a
plain, low altar-tomb that marks the resting-place of St. Bede, commonly
known as "the Venerable Bede"--a title which angelic hands are said to
have supplied to the line inscribed on his tomb. He was the first
English historian, a gentle, simple scholar, who spent his life from
childhood in a monastery at Jarrow, near the mouth of the Wear, and took
his pleasure in learning, teaching, or writing. His great work was the
_Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation_, which occupied many
years in compilation, and is still the most trusted history of the
period of which it treats. His literary activity was extraordinary, and
he produced many other works. He was born near Durham in 672, and died
in 735. His devotion to literary work was such that even during his last
illness he was dictating to an amanuensis a translation of the Gospel of
St. John into Anglo-Saxon, and upon completing the last sentence
requested the assistant to place him on the floor of his cell, where he
said a short prayer, and expired as the closing words passed his lips.
He was buried where he had lived, at Jarrow, and as the centuries passed
the fame of his sanctity and learning increased. Then a certain Ælfred
conceived the idea of stealing St. Bede's remains for the glorification
of Durham. Several times baffled, he at length succeeded, and carrying
the precious relics to Durham, they were for a time preserved in St.
Cuthbert's shrine, but were afterwards removed to a separate tomb, which
in 1370 was placed in the galilee, where it has since remained. At the
Reformation the shrine was destroyed, and St. Bede's bones, like St.
Cuthbert's, were buried beneath the spot on which the shrine had stood.
This tomb was opened in 1831, and many human bones were found beneath,
together with a gilt ring. The bones in all probability were St. Bede's
remains. Durham Cathedral contains few monuments, for reverence for the
solitude of St. Cuthbert whom it enshrined excluded memorials of other
men during several centuries.


The remains of the Benedictine monastery to which the care of these
shrines was entrusted are south of the cathedral, forming three sides of
a square, of which the cathedral nave was the fourth. Beyond is an open
green, with the castle on the farther side and old buildings on either
hand. From this green the castle is entered by a gateway with massive
doors, but, while the structure is picturesque, it is not very ancient,
excepting this gateway. It has mostly been rebuilt since the twelfth
century. This was the palace of the bishops of Durham, of whom Antony
Bek raised the power of the see to its highest point. He was prelate,
soldier, and politician, equally at home in peace or war, at the head of
his troops, celebrating a mass, or surrounded by his great officers of
state. He was the first who intruded upon the solitude of St. Cuthbert
by being buried in the cathedral. Here lived also Richard of Bury, noted
as the most learned man of his generation north of the Alps, and the
first English bibliomaniac. Bishop Hatfield also ruled at Durham, famous
both as architect and warrior. Cardinal Wolsey lived here when
Archbishop of York and his quarrel with Henry VIII. resulted in the
Durham palatinate beginning to lose part of its power, so that in the
days of his successor, Tunstall, it came to be the "peace of the king,"
and not of the bishop, that was broken within its borders. Here also
ruled the baron-bishop Crewe, who was both a temporal and a spiritual
peer, and Bishop Butler, the profound thinker. But the bishops live
there no longer, their palace being moved to Auckland, while the
university is located in the castle. It is the Northern University,
first projected in Cromwell's time. About a mile to the westward of
Durham was fought the battle of Neville's Cross in October, 1346. This
was a few months after Edward had won the battle of Crecy in France, and
the King of Scotland, taking advantage of the absence of the English
king and his army, swept over the Border with forty thousand men,
devastating the entire country. His chief nobles accompanied him, and to
encourage the troops the most sacred relic of Scotland, the "Black
Rood," a crucifix of blackened silver, was present on the battlefield.
This had been mysteriously delivered to David I. on the spot in
Edinburgh where to commemorate it Holyrood Abbey was afterwards founded.
But, though King Edward was in France, Queen Philippa was equal to the
emergency. An army was quickly gathered under Earl Neville, and Durham
sent its contingent headed by the warlike bishop. The invaders drew near
the walls of Durham, and the English army, inferior in numbers, awaited
them. To confront the "Black Rood," the bishop brought into camp an "ark
of God" in obedience to a vision: this was one of the cathedral's
choicest treasures, "the holy corporax cloth wherewith St. Cuthbert
covered the chalice when he used to say mass." This, attached to the
point of a spear, was displayed in sight of the army, while the monks
upon the cathedral towers, in full view of the battlefield, prayed for
victory for the defenders of St. Cuthbert's shrine. They fought three
hours in the morning, the Scotch with axes, the English with arrows;
but, as the watching monks turned from prayer to praise, the Scottish
line wavered and broke, for the banner of St. Cuthbert proved too much
for the Black Rood. The King of Scotland was wounded and captured, and
fifteen thousand of his men were slain, including many nobles. The Black
Rood was captured, and placed in the Nine Altars Chapel. Afterwards the
"corporax cloth" was attached to a velvet banner, and became one of the
great standards of England, being carried against Scotland by Richard
II. and Henry IV., and it waved over the English army at Flodden. When
not in use it was attached to St. Cuthbert's shrine. At the Reformation
the Black Rood was lost, and St. Cuthbert's banner fell into possession
of one Dean Whittingham, whose wife, the historian lamentingly says,
"being a Frenchwoman, did most despitefully burn the same in her fire,
to the open contempt and disgrace of all ancient relics." A narrow lane,
deeply fringed with ferns, leads out of Durham over the hills to the
westward of the town, where at a cross-road stand the mutilated remains
of Earl Neville's Cross, set up to mark the battlefield, now a wide
expanse of smoky country.


Following the Wear northward towards its mouth, at a short distance
below Durham it passes the site of the Roman city of Conderum, which had
been the resting-place of St. Cuthbert's bones until the Danish invasion
drove them away, and it is now known as Chester-le-Street. Here, in the
old church of St. Mary and St. Cuthbert, is the rude effigy of the saint
which once surmounted his tomb, and here also is the "Aisle of Tombs," a
chain of fourteen monumental effigies of the Lumleys, dating from Queen
Elizabeth's reign. Lumley Castle, now the Earl of Scarborough's seat
(for he too is a Lumley), is a short distance outside the town, on an
eminence overlooking the Wear. It dates from the time of Edward I., but
has been much modernized, the chief apartment in the interior being the
Great Hall, sixty by thirty feet, with the Minstrel Gallery at the
western end. Here on the wall is a life-size statue of the great
ancestor of the Lumleys, Liulph the Saxon, seated on a red horse. North
of this castle, across the Wear, is the Earl of Durham's seat, Lambton
Castle, a Gothic and Tudor structure recently restored.



Still journeying northward, we cross the hills between the Wear and the
Tyne, and come to the New Castle which gives its name to
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, the great coal shipping port. This is a
strange-looking town, with red-tiled roofs, narrow, dingy, crooked
streets, and myriads of chimneys belching forth smoke from the many
iron-works. These mills and furnaces are numerous also in the
surrounding country, while the neighborhood is a network of railways
carrying coal from the various lines to the shipping-piers. But this
famous city is not all smoke and coal-dust: its New Castle is an ancient
structure, rather dilapidated now, coming down from the reign of Henry
II., approached by steep stairways up the rock on which the keep is
perched. It has a fine hall, which is used as a museum of Roman relics,
and from the roof is a grand view along the Tyne. This castle has a well
ninety-three feet deep bored in the rock. Newcastle in its newer parts
has some fine buildings. Grey Street, containing the theatre and
Exchange, for a space of about four hundred yards is claimed to be the
finest street in the kingdom. In Low Friars Street is the old chapel of
the Black Friars monastery, where Baliol did homage to Edward III. for
the Scottish throne. Sir William Armstrong lives at Jesmond, just
outside Newcastle, and at Elswick, west of the city, are the extensive
workshops where are made the Armstrong guns. The great High Level bridge
across the Tyne Valley, built by Stephenson, with a railway on top of a
roadway, and one thousand three hundred and thirty-seven feet long, is
one of the chief engineering works at Newcastle. George Stephenson was
born in 1781 at High Street House, Wylam, near Newcastle, while at
Frudhoe Castle is a seat of the Duke of Northumberland. At Wallsend,
three miles east of Newcastle, begins the celebrated Roman wall that
crossed Britain, and was defended by their legions against incursions by
the Scots. Its stone-and-turf walls, with the ditch on the north side,
can be distinctly traced across the island.


Ascending the Tyne, we come to Hexham, an imposing town as approached by
the railway, with the Moat Hall and the abbey church occupying
commanding features in the landscape. The Moat Hall is a large and
ancient tower, notable for its narrow lights and cornice-like range of
corbels. The abbey church, formerly the cathedral of St. Andrew, is a
fine specimen of Early English architecture, of which only the transept
and some other ruins remain, surmounted by a tower rising about one
hundred feet and supported upon magnificent arches. Here is the shrine
of the ancient chronicler. Prior Richard, an attractive oratory: and the
town also produced another quaint historian of the Border troubles, John
of Hexham. It is an antique place, and almost all of its old buildings
bear testimony to the disturbed state of the Scottish frontier in the
olden time, for not far away are the Cheviot Hills that form the
boundary, and in which the Tyne takes its rise. Similar evidence is also
given in Haltwhistle, Hexham's suburb, across the narrow river.

[Illustration: HEXHAM.]



[Illustration: THE BARBICAN GATE.]

[Illustration: THE BARBICAN.]

Journeying northward through Northumberland, and following the
coastline--for here England narrows as the Scottish border is
approached--the road crosses the diminutive river Alne, running through
a deep valley, and standing in an imposing situation on its southern
bank is the renowned stronghold of the Percies and guardian of the
Border, Alnwick Castle. The great fortress, as we now see it, was built
as a defence against the Scots, and was protected on the northward by
the river-valley and a deep ravine, which formerly cut it off from the
village, which is as ancient as the fortress, as its quaint old
Pottergate Tower attests. Roman remains have been found on the site,
and it was also inhabited by the Saxons, the castle at the time of the
Norman Conquest being held by Gilbert Tysen, a powerful Northumbrian
chief. It was then a primitive timber fortress in a wild region, for the
earliest masonry works are Norman, and are attributed to Tysen's
descendants. Alnwick Castle is a cluster of semicircular and angular
bastions, surrounded by lofty walls, defended at intervals by towers,
and enclosing a space of about five acres. It has three courts or wards,
each defended formerly by massive gates, with portcullis, porters lodge,
and a strong guardhouse, beneath which was a dungeon. Trap-doors are the
only entrances to the latter, into which the prisoners were lowered by
ropes. From the village the entrance to the castle is through the
barbican, or outer gate, a work of gigantic strength and massive
grandeur, which has been the scene of many a brave encounter. Near by is
the Postern Tower, a sally-port adjacent to the "Bloody Gap" and
"Hotspur's Chair." The history of this famous stronghold is practically
the history of this portion of the realm, for in all the Border warfare
that continued for centuries it was conspicuous. In the reign of William
Rufus it was gallantly defended by Mowbray, Earl of Northumberland, in
the memorable siege by the Scots under King Malcolm III. The garrison
were about surrendering, being almost starved, when a private soldier
undertook their deliverance. He rode out to the besiegers' camp,
carrying the keys of the castle dangling from his lance, and presented
himself a suppliant before the Scottish king, as if to deliver up the
keys. Malcolm advanced to receive them, and the soldier pierced him
through the heart. Malcolm fell dead, and in the confusion the bold
trooper sprang upon his horse, dashed across the river, and was safe.
Malcolm's eldest son, Prince Edward, advanced rashly to avenge the
king's death, and fell mortally wounded from the castle. Hammond's Ford,
named for the bold trooper, marks the spot where he and his horse swam
across the Alne, which at the time was swollen. In memory of Malcolm, a
cross stands on the spot where he was slain, and near by is Malcolm's
Well and the ruins of St. Leonard's Chapel, built for the unfortunate
king's expiation. Upon the cross the inscription states that Malcolm
fell November 13, 1093, and that the original cross, decayed by time,
was restored by his descendant, Elizabeth, Duchess of Northumberland, in
1774. Eustace de Vesci, who built St. Leonard's Chapel, lived in the
days of Henry I. and Stephen, and founded the abbey of Alnwick. King
David of Scotland captured the old timber castle there in 1135 on his
great invasion of England, and Eustace afterwards built the first
masonry work of Alnwick Castle, traces of his walls having since been


[Illustration: THE PERCY BEDSTEAD.]

[Illustration: THE PERCY CROSS.]

Alnwick descended to William, son of Eustace, and in 1174, William the
Lion, returning from an invasion of Cumberland, passed before the
castle, and was captured and sent a prisoner into England. Alnwick
descended to William's son Eustace, who was visited by King John in
1209, and the king there received the homage of Alexander of Scotland.
Eustace was one of the chief barons who wrested Magna Charta from John,
and in the closing year of that reign met his death from an arrow before
Barnard Castle. Henry III. visited Alnwick, and the great Edward I. was
there several times as the guest of John de Vesci near the close of the
thirteenth century. The Barons de Vesci soon afterwards became extinct,
and then the warlike bishop of Durham, Antony Bek, came in and grabbed
the castle. He sold it in 1309 to Henry de Percy, and from this dates
the rise of the great family of the northern Border, who have held
Alnwick for nearly six centuries, its present owner being his
descendant, Algernon George Percy, Duke of Northumberland, in whose
veins flows the blood of so many great families that he can use nine
hundred heraldic devices on his armorial bearings, including those of
many kings and princes. Henry de Percy became the leader of the Border
barons, and, although living at Alnwick only five years, seems to have
rebuilt most of the castle, his son completing it. The Percies became
the Earls of Northumberland, and such warlike lives did they lead (as,
for instance, young Henry Percy, "Hotspur") that it is noted that Henry
Algernon, the fifth earl, was the first of the race who died in bed. The
next of the line was executed for rebellion, and the next was beheaded
at York for conspiring against Queen Elizabeth. The eighth earl,
favoring Mary Queen of Scots, was imprisoned in the Tower, and was one
day found in his chamber shot through the heart. Henry, the ninth earl,
was implicated in the Gunpowder Plot, imprisoned in the Tower, and fined
$250,000. After his release he spent the remainder of his life at
Petworth; Alnwick was neglected; and the direct line of descent
ultimately ended with Elizabeth, daughter of the eleventh earl, who
married the Duke of Somerset in 1682. Her grandson, Algernon, became
Earl of Northumberland, and his daughter, Elizabeth Seymour, was the
ancestress of the present family, her husband being created the first
Duke of Northumberland. Alnwick was then a ruin, but he restored it, and
subsequently, under the direction of the architect Salvin, it was
completely rebuilt, everything worthy of preservation being kept, and
the new work being adapted to the days of the earlier Percies, whose
achievements gave the stronghold such world-wide renown.

[Illustration: CONSTABLE'S TOWER.]

[Illustration: EARL HUGH'S TOWER.]

This famous castle is full of recollections of the great men who
formerly inhabited it. The Constable's Tower, remaining mostly in its
ancient condition, has in an upper apartment arms for fifteen hundred
men, the Percy tenantry, while in the rooms beneath is deposited the
ancient armor. "Hotspur's Chair" is the name given to a seated recess of
the Ravine Tower which was Hotspur's favorite resort, where he sat while
his troops exercised in the castle-yard beneath, and where he had an
admirable lookout to discover an approaching enemy. Through the
loopholes on either side of the seat in this commanding tower there is
an extensive prospect over the valley of the Alne and to the distant
seacoast. The "Bloody Gap," another noted site in the castle, is between
the Ravine and Round Towers. It was the name given to a breach in the
wall made by the Scots during the Border wars, although the exact time
is unknown. According to tradition, three hundred Scots fell within the
breach, and they were ultimately beaten off. Many arrows have been found
in the adjacent walls, so located as to indicate they were shot from the
battlements and windows of the keep when the assailants were making this
breach. Alnwick Castle was restored by Salvin with strict regard to the
rules of mediæval military architecture. When it was the great Border
stronghold its governor commanded a force of no less than two thousand
men, who were employed in a complicated system of day and night watching
to guard against forays by the Scots. The day watchers began at
daylight, and blew a horn on the approach of the foe, when all men were
bound on pain of death to respond for the general defence. The great
feature of the restored castle is the Prudhoe Tower, built about
twenty-five years ago. After entering the barbican, which admits to the
outer ward, the visitor passes between the Abbot's Tower on the left and
the Corner Tower and Auditor's Tower on the right. Earl Hugh's turreted
tower also rises boldly from the battlements. Passing through the middle
gatehouse, the keep, constructed in the form of a polygon around a
court, is seen on the right hand, and in the gateway-wall is Percy's
famous draw-well, with a statue of St. James above blessing the waters.
Opposite this draw-well is a covered drive which leads to the entrance
of Prudhoe Tower. This tower is a magnificent structure, containing the
family and state-apartments, built and decorated in the Italian style,
and approached by a staircase twelve feet wide. It was built at enormous
cost, and alongside is a vaulted kitchen of ample proportions,
constructed in the baronial style, where there are sufficient facilities
to prepare dinner for six hundred persons at one time, while the
subterranean regions contain bins for three hundred tons of coal. Such
is this great baronial Border stronghold, replete with memories of the
warlike Percies. From here Hotspur sallied forth to encounter the
marauding Scottish force which under Douglas had laid waste England as
far as the gates of York, and almost within the sight of the castle is
the bloody field of Otterbourn, where Douglas fell by Hotspur's own
hand, though the English lost the day and Hotspur himself was captured.
Again, as war's fortunes change, just north of Alnwick is Humbleton
Hill, where the Scots had to fly before England's "deadly arrow-hail,"
leaving their leader, Douglas, with five wounds and only one eye, a
prisoner in the hands of the Percies. It was from Alnwick's battlements
that the countess watched "the stout Earl of Northumberland" set forth,
"his pleasure in the Scottish woods three summer days to take"--an
expedition from which he never returned. Such was the history for
centuries of this renowned castle, which is regarded as presenting the
most perfect specimen now existing, perhaps in the world, of the feudal
stronghold of mediæval days.


[Illustration: Gravestone in the Churchyard of St. Michael & all

And now let us turn from the castle to the church. Almost alongside of
it is St. Michael's Church, built with battlements, as if prepared as
much for defence as for worship, and a watch-tower, made evidently for a
lookout and to hold a beacon to warn of the approach of forays. This was
one of the regular chain of Border beacons. Within the church an old
iron-work lectern still holds the "Book of the Homilies," while the
churchyard is full of ancient gravestones. Alnwick Abbey once existed
down alongside the river, under the protection of the castle, but it has
been long since ruined, and its remains have served as a quarry for the
village buildings until little of them remains. Its extensive domains
are now part of the Duke's Park, and another contributor to this park
was Hulne Priory, the earliest Carmelite monastery in England, founded
in 1240. It stood upon a projecting spur of rising land above the Alne,
backed by rich woods, but was neither large nor wealthy, as the
neighboring abbey eclipsed it. The discipline of the Carmelites was
rigorous. Each friar had a coffin for his cell and slept on straw, while
every morning he dug a shovelful of earth for his grave and crept on his
knees in prayer. Silence, solitude, and strict fasting were the
injunction upon all, and their buildings were sternly simple. The
porter's lodge and curtain-wall enclosing Hulne Priory still stand, and
its outline can be traced, though the ruins are scant. Yet this, like
all else at Alnwick, bears evidence of the troublous times on the
Border. The most important of its remaining buildings is an embattled
tower of refuge from the Scottish invader. Its inscription states that
it was built in 1448 by Sir Henry Percy, fourth Earl of Northumberland.
Opposite Hulne Priory is Brislee Hill, which presents the most renowned
view in Alnwick Park. A tower rises among the trees upon the crest of
the hill from which bonfires now blaze on occasions of festivity. Here,
over the park, can be seen the castle and town, and beyond, to the
eastward, the sea, with its coast-castles as far north as Bamborough.
The little Coquet Island in the distance breaks the expanse of blue
waters. To the westward beyond the moors rises the sharp outline of the
Scottish Border, the Cheviot Hills, running off towards the north-east,
and containing in their depressions the passes through which the Scots
used to pour when they harried Northern England and roused the Alnwick
warriors to defend their firesides.




Northward, past the extremity of the Cheviots, flows the Tweed, and one
of its tributaries on the English side is the Till, which drains the
bases of those sharp hills, that rise nearly twenty-seven hundred feet.
Here was Ford Castle, and here was fought the terrible Border battle of
Flodden in 1513. Ford Castle dated from the time of Edward I., and its
proximity to the Border made it the object of many assaults. In the
fifteenth century it was held by Sir William Heron, and a few days
before the battle of Flodden the Scots, under James IV., during Sir
William's captivity in Scotland, stormed and destroyed Ford, taking
captive Lady Heron, who had endeavored to defend it. In the last century
Ford was restored by the Marquis of Waterford, to whom it had descended,
so that it now appears as a fine baronial mansion, surmounted by towers
and battlements, and standing in a commanding situation overlooking the
valley of the Till, with the lofty Cheviots closing the view a few miles
to the south-west, their peaks affording ever-varying scenes as the
season changes.




The great attraction of the view, however, is the famous hill of
Flodden, about a mile to the westward, crowned by a plantation of dark
fir trees, and presenting, with the different aspects of the weather,
ever-changeful scenery, recalling now the "dark Flodden" and anon the
"red Flodden" of the balladists. Across the valley from Ford Castle, and
at the foot of this fir-crowned hill, was fought one of the bitterest
contests of the Border. Now, the famous battlefield is a
highly-cultivated farm and sheep-pasture. James IV. of Scotland had
unjustly determined to make war upon England, and he set out upon it in
opposition to the real desire of his countrymen, and even against the
omens of Heaven, as the people believed. A few days before he departed
for his army the king attended St. Michael's Church, adjacent to his
stately palace at Linlithgow, when a venerable stranger entered the
aisle where the king knelt. The hair from his uncovered head flowed down
over his shoulders, and his blue robe was confined by a linen girdle.
With an air of majesty he walked up to the kneeling king, and said,
"Sire, I am sent to warn thee not to proceed in thy present undertaking,
for if thou dost it shall not fare well either with thyself or those who
go with thee." He vanished then in the awe-stricken crowd. But this was
not the only warning. At midnight, prior to the departure of the troops
for the south, it is related that a voice not mortal proclaimed a
summons from the market cross, where proclamations were usually read,
calling upon all who should march against the English to appear within
the space of forty days before the court of the Evil One. Sir Walter
Scott says that this summons, like the apparition at Linlithgow, was
probably an attempt by those averse to the war to impose upon the
superstitious temper of James IV. But the king started at the head of
the finest army, and supported by the strongest artillery-train, that
had down to that time been brought into the field by any Scottish
monarch. He entered England August 22d. without having formed any
definite plan of action. He wasted two days on the Till, besieged Norham
for a week, when it surrendered, and then besieged Ford. These delays
gave the English time to assemble. King James, as above related,
captured Lady Heron at Ford. She was beautiful and deceitful, and soon
enthralled the gay king in her spells, while all the time she was in
communication with the English. Thus James wasted his time in dalliance,
and, as Scott tells us,

  "The monarch o'er the siren hung,
  And beat the measure as she sung,
  And, pressing closer and more near,
  He whispered praises in her ear."

All the time the energetic Earl of Surrey was marshalling the English
hosts, and, marching with twenty-six thousand men northward through
Durham, received there the sacred banner of St. Cuthbert. On September
4th. Surrey challenged James to battle, which the king accepted against
the advice of his best councillors. The Scots had become restive under
the king's do-nothing policy, and many of them left the camp and
returned home with the booty already acquired. James selected a strong
position on Flodden Hill, with both flanks protected and having the
deep and sluggish waters of the Till flowing in front. Surrey advanced
and reconnoitred, and then sent the king a herald requesting him to
descend into the plain, as he acted ungallantly in thus practically
shutting himself up in a fortress. The king would not admit the herald.
Surrey then attempted a stratagem. Crossing the Till on the 8th, he
encamped at Barmoor Wood, about two miles from the Scottish position,
concealing his movement from the enemy. On the 9th he marched down the
Till to near its confluence with the Tweed, and recrossed to the eastern
bank. This, too, was uninterrupted by the Scots, who remained strangely
inactive, though it is recorded that the chief Scottish nobles implored
the king to attack the English. The aged Earl Angus begged him either to
assault the English or retreat. "If you are afraid, Angus," replied the
king, "you can go home." The master of artillery implored the king to
allow him to bring his guns to bear upon the English, but James returned
the reply that he would meet his antagonist on equal terms in a fair
field, and scorned to take an advantage. Then Surrey drew up his line
between James and the Border, and advanced up the valley of the Till
towards the Scots. The king set fire to the temporary huts on the
hillside where he had been encamped, and descended to the valley, the
smoke concealing the movements of each army from the other; but Surrey's
stratagem was thus successful in drawing him from his strong position.
The English van was led by Lord Thomas Howard, Surrey commanding the
main body, Sir Edward Stanley the rear, and Lord Dacre the reserves. The
Scottish advance was led by the Earls of Home and Huntley, the king
leading the centre, the Earls of Lennox and Argyle the rear, and the
reserves, consisting of the flower of the Lothians, were under the Earl
of Bothwell. The battle began at four in the afternoon, when the
Scottish advance charged upon the right wing of the English advance and
routed it. Dacre promptly galloped forward with his reserves, and
restored the fortunes of the day for the English right. The main bodies
in the mean time became engaged in a desperate contest. The Scottish
king in his ardor forgot that the duties of a commander were distinct
from the indiscriminate valor of a knight, and placed himself in front
of his spearmen, surrounded by his nobles, who, while they deplored the
gallant weakness of such conduct, disdained to leave their sovereign
unprotected. Dacre and Howard, having defeated the Scottish wing in
front of them, at this time turned their full strength against the flank
of the Scottish centre. It was a terrific combat, the Scots fighting
desperately in an unbroken ring around their king. The battle lasted
till night, and almost annihilated the Scottish forces. Of all the
splendid host, embracing the flower of the nobility and chivalry of the
kingdom, only a few haggard and wounded stragglers returned to tell the
tale. The English victors lost five thousand slain, and the Scots more
than twice that number, and among them the greatest men of the land.
They left on the field their king, two bishops, two mitred abbots,
twenty-seven peers and their sons, and there was scarcely a family of
any position in Scotland that did not lose a relative there. The young
Earl of Caithness and his entire band of three hundred followers
perished on the field. The body of the dead king, afterwards found by
Dacre, was taken to Berwick and presented to his commander, who had it
embalmed and conveyed to the monastery of Sheyne in Surrey. The poetic
instincts of the Scots were deeply moved by the woes of the fatal field
of Flodden, and innumerable poems and ballads record the sad story, the
crowning work of all being Scott's _Marmion_.

[Illustration: THE CRYPT, FORD CASTLE.]


North of Flodden Field, and not far distant, is the Scottish Border,
which in this part is made by the river Tweed, with Berwick at its
mouth. The two kingdoms, so long in hot quarrel, are now united by a
magnificent railway-bridge, elevated one hundred and twenty-five feet
above the river and costing $600,000. For miles along the coast the
railway runs almost upon the edge of the ocean, elevated on the cliffs
high above the sea, while off the coast are Holy Isle and Lindisfarne.
Here St. Cuthbert was the bishop, and its abbey is a splendid ruin,
while on the rocky islet of Farne he lived a hermit, encompassing his
cell with a mound so high that he could see nothing but the heavens. Two
miles from Farne, on the mainland, was the royal city of Bebban Burgh,
now Bamborough, the castle standing upon an almost perpendicular rock
rising one hundred and fifty feet and overlooking the sea. This was King
Ida's castle, a Border stronghold in ancient times whose massive keep
yet stands. It is now a charity-school, a lighthouse, and a life-saving
station. Thirty beds are kept in the restored castle for shipwrecked
sailors, and Bamborough is to the mariner on that perilous coast what
the convent of St. Bernard is to the traveller in the Alps. Here, at
this Border haven, we will close this descriptive tour by recalling
Bamborough's most pleasant memory--that of Grace Darling. She was a
native of the place, and was lodged, clothed, and educated at the school
in Bamborough Castle. Her remains lie in Bamborough churchyard under an
altar-tomb bearing her recumbent figure and surmounted by a Gothic
canopy. She is represented lying on a plaited straw mattrass and holding
an oar. All this coast is beset with perils and wrecks have been
frequent. The islet of Farne and a cluster of other rocks off shore add
to the dangers, and on some of them there are lighthouses. One of these
rocks--Longstone Island--Grace Darling rendered memorable by her
intrepidity in perilling her life during the storm of September, 1838.
Her father was the keeper of Longstone Light, and on the night of
September 6 the Forfarshire steamer, proceeding from Hull to Dundee, was
wrecked there. Of fifty-three persons on board, thirty-eight perished,
and on the morning of the 7th, Grace, then about twenty-three years of
age, discovered the survivors clinging to the rocks and remnants of the
steamer, in imminent danger of being washed off by the returning tide.
With her parents' assistance, but against their remonstrance, Grace
launched a boat, and with her father succeeded in rescuing nine of them,
while six escaped by other means. Presents and demonstrations of
admiration were showered upon her from all parts of the kingdom, and a
public subscription of $3500 was raised for her benefit. Poor Grace died
four years later of consumption. A monument to her has been placed in
St. Cuthbert's Chapel on Longstone Island, and upon it is this
inscription, from Wordsworth:

  "Pious and pure, modest, and yet so brave,
  Though young, so wise--though meek, so resolute.

    "Oh that winds and waves could speak
  Of things which their united power called forth
  From the pure depths of her humanity!
  A maiden gentle, yet at duty's call
  Firm and unflinching as the lighthouse reared
  On the island-rock, her lonely dwelling-place;
  Or, like the invincible rock itself, that braves,
  Age after age, the hostile elements,
  As when it guarded holy Cuthbert's cell.

  "All night the storm had raged, nor ceased, nor paused,
  When, as day broke, the maid, through misty air,
  Espies far off a wreck amid the surf,
  Beating on one of those disastrous isles--
  Half of a vessel, half--no more; the rest
  Had vanished!"




     The Cotswolds--The River Severn--Gloucester--Berkeley Castle--New
     Inn--Gloucester Cathedral--Lampreys--Tewkesbury; its Mustard,
     Abbey, and Battle--Wercester; its Battle--Charles II.'s
     Escape--Worcester Cathedral--The Malvern Hills--Worcestershire
     Beacon--Herefordshire Beacon--Great Malvern--St. Anne's Well--The
     River Wye--Clifford Castle--Hereford--Old Butcher's Row--Nell
     Gwynne's Birthplace--Ross--The Man of Ross--Ross Church and its
     Trees--Walton Castle--Goodrich Castle--Forest of
     Dean--Coldwell--Symond's Yat--The Dowards--Monmouth--Kymin
     Hill--Raglan Castle--Redbrook--St. Briard Castle--Tintern
     Abbey--The Wyncliff--Wyntour's Leap--Chepstow Castle--The River
     Monnow--The Golden Valley--The Black Mountains--Pontrilas
     Court--Ewias Harold--Abbey Dore--The Scyrrid
     Vawr--Wormridge--Kilpeck--Oldcastle--Kentchurch--Grosmont--The Vale
     of Usk--Abergavenny--Llanthony Priory--Walter Savage
     Landor--Capel-y-Ffyn--Newport--Penarth Roads--Cardiff--The
     Rocking-Stone--Llandaff--Caerphilly Castle and its Leaning
     Tower--Swansea--The Mumbles--Oystermouth Castle--Neath
     Abbey--Caermarthen--Tenby--Manorbeer Castle--Golden
     Grove--Pembroke--Milford--Haverfordwest--Milford Haven--Pictou
     Castle--Carew Castle.



Journeying westward from the metropolis and beyond the sources of the
Thames, let us mount to the tops of the Cotswold Hills, in which they
take their rise, and look down upon the valley of the noble Severn River
beyond. We have already seen the Severn at Shrewsbury, Wenlock, and
Bridgenorth, and, uniting with the classic Avon, it drains the western
slopes of the Cotswolds, and, flowing through a deep valley between them
and the Malvern Hills, finally debouches through a broad estuary into
the British Channel. There is much of interest to the tourist along the
banks and in neighborhood of this well-known river. As we stand upon the
elevations of the Cotswolds and look over "Sabrina fair," the lower part
of its valley is seen as a broad and fertile plain, and the Severn's
"glassy, cool, translucent wave," as the poet has it, flows through a
land of meadows, orchards, and cornfields, with the hills of the Forest
of Dean rising on the western horizon. Alongside the river is the
cathedral city of Gloucester, the dépôt for a rich agricultural region
and for the mining wealth of Dean Forest, the Berkeley Canal leading
from its docks for sixteen miles down the Severn until the deep water of
the estuary is reached. The Romans early saw the importance of this
place as a military post, and founded Glevum here, upon their Ermine
Street road, as an outpost fortress upon the border-land of the
Silures. Fragments of tessellated pavements, coins, and other relics
from time to time exhumed attest the extent of the Roman settlement.
When the Britons succeeded the Romans, this settlement became gradually
transformed into Gleawecesore, forming part of the kingdom of Mercia,
and in the seventh century Æthelred bestowed it upon Osric, who founded
a monastery here. Athelstan died here in 941, and a few years afterwards
the Danes, who overrun and devastated almost the whole of England,
burned the town and monastery. The history of Gloucester, however, was
without stirring incidents, excepting an occasional destructive fire,
until the siege took place in the Civil War, its people devoting
themselves more to commerce than to politics, and in the early part of
the seventeenth century engaging extensively in the manufacture of pins.
Gloucester, however, gave the title to several earls and dukes,
generally men not much envied; as, for instance, Richard Crookback, who
sent from Gloucester the order for the murder of his nephews, the young
princes, in the Tower. But the town never took kindly to him, and warmly
welcomed Richmond on his avenging march to Bosworth Field. The siege of
Gloucester was made by King Charles's troops, the citizens having warmly
espoused the cause of the Parliament and strongly fortified their city,
mounting guns for its defence which they got from London. A polygonal
line of fortifications surrounded Gloucester, which was then much
smaller than now, and the bastions came down to the river, with outlying
works to defend a small suburb on the opposite bank. The Cavaliers were
in great strength in Western England, and the malignity of the
Gloucester pin-makers seriously embarrassed them. On August 10, 1643,
the siege began with a summons to surrender, which the authorities
refused. Parts of the suburbs were then burned, and next morning a
bombardment began, red-hot balls and heavy stones being plentifully
thrown into the place, knocking the houses into sad havoc, but in no
wise damping the sturdy courage of the defenders. They replied bravely
with their cannon and made repeated sorties, which inflicted serious
damage upon the besiegers. After over three weeks of this sport, the
Royalists shot an arrow into the town, September 3, with a message in
these words: "These are to let you understand your god Waller hath
forsaken you and hath retired himself to the Tower of London; Essex is
beaten like a dog: yield to the king's mercy in time; otherwise, if we
enter perforce, no quarter for such obstinate traitorly rogues.--From a
Well-wisher." This conciliatory message was defiantly answered in a
prompt reply signed "Nicholas Cudgelyouwell;" and two days later, Prince
Rupert having suffered a defeat elsewhere, the Cavaliers abandoned the
siege. Charles II., upon his restoration, took care to have himself
proclaimed with great pomp at Gloucester, and also took the precaution
to destroy its fortifications. The castle, which had stood since the
days of the Norman Conquest, then disappeared. The west gate, the last
remains of the walls, was removed, with the old bridge across the
Severn, in 1809, to make room for a fine new bridge. This structure is
chiefly known through a humorous connection that Thackeray has given it
with King George III. That monarch made a royal visit to Gloucester, and
in his lectures on the "Four Georges" Thackeray says: "One morning,
before anybody else was up, the king walked about Gloucester town,
pushed over Molly the housemaid with her pail, who was scrubbing the
doorsteps, ran up stairs and woke all the equerries in their bedrooms,
and then trotted down to the bridge, where by this time a dozen of louts
were assembled. 'What! is this Gloucester new bridge?' asked our
gracious monarch; and the people answered him, 'Yes, Your
Majesty.'--'Why, then, my boys, let's have a hurray!' After giving them
which intellectual gratification he went home to breakfast."

The town is quaint and picturesque, but the buildings generally are
modern, most of them dating from the days of good Queen Anne, but they
exhibit great variety in design. The most noted of the older Gloucester
houses is the "New Inn," on Northgate Street. After the murder of Edward
II. at Berkeley Castle, not far from Gloucester, where he had been
imprisoned in a dungeon in the keep, in 1327, his remains were brought
to the abbey church at Gloucester for interment, a shrine being raised
over them by the monks. The king was murdered with fiendish cruelty.
Lord Berkeley at the castle would willingly have protected him, but he
fell sick; and one dark September night Edward was given over to two
villains named Gurney and Ogle. The ancient chronicler says that the
"screams and shrieks of anguish were heard even so far as the town, so
that many, being awakened therewith from their sleep, as they themselves
confessed, prayed heartily to God to receive his soul, for they
understood by those cries what the matter meant." The king's shrine in
Gloucester naturally attracted many pilgrims, and the New Inn was built
about 1450 for their accommodation. It is a brick-and-timber house, with
corridors leading to the chambers running along the sides of the inner
court and reached by outside stairways, as was the common construction
of houses of public entertainment three or four centuries ago. The inn
remains almost as it was then, having been but slightly modernized. Most
of the pilgrims to the shrine brought offerings with them, and hence the
pains taken for their accommodation. The usual tale is told about a
subterranean passage connecting this inn with the cathedral. New Inn is
enormously strong and massive, and covers a broad surface, being
constructed around two courtyards.

[Illustration: NEW INN, GLOUCESTER.]

Gloucester has many churches in proportion to its size--in fact, so many
that "as sure as God is in Gloucester" used to be a proverb. Oliver
Cromwell, though the city had stood sturdily by him, differed with this,
however, for a saying of his is still quoted, that "there be more
churches than godliness in Gloucester." In later days the first
Sunday-school in England was opened here, and just outside the city are
the fragmentary remains of the branch of Llanthony Priory to which the
monks migrated from the Welsh Border. The chief attraction of
Gloucester, however, is the cathedral, and the ruins of the Benedictine
monastery to which it was formerly attached. The cathedral is of
considerable size, being four hundred and twenty feet long, and is
surmounted by a much-admired central tower. The light and graceful
tracery of its parapets and pinnacles gives especial character to the
exterior of Gloucester Cathedral, and when the open-work tracery is
projected against the red glow of sunset an unrivalled effect is
produced. This tower is two hundred and twenty-five feet high, and forms
an admirable centre to the masses of buildings clustered around it. The
monastery, founded by Osric in the seventh century, stood on this site,
but after the Danes burned it a convent was built, which passed into the
hands of the Benedictines in 1022. One of these monks was the "Robert of
Gloucester" who in 1272 wrote in rhyme a chronicle of English history
from the siege of Troy to the death of Henry II. Their church was
repeatedly burned and rebuilt, but it was not until the shrine of Edward
II. was placed in it that the religious establishment throve. The rich
harvest brought by the pilgrims to this shrine led to the reconstruction
of the older church, by encasing the shell with Perpendicular work in
the lower part and completely rebuilding the upper portion. This was in
the fourteenth century, and by the close of the next century the
cathedral appeared as it is now seen. Entering the fine southern porch,
we are ushered into the splendid Norman nave bordered by exceptionally
high piers, rising thirty feet, and surmounted by a low triforium and
clerestory. The design is rather dwarfed by thus impoverishing the upper
stories. The choir has an enormous east window, made wider than the
choir itself by an ingenious arrangement of the walls; and this retains
most of the old stained glass. The choir has recently been restored, and
in the old woodwork the seat of the mayor is retained opposite the
throne of the bishop. On the floor an oblong setting of tiles marks the
grave of William the Conqueror's son Robert, who died at Cardiff, and
whose monument stands in an adjoining chapel. The Lady Chapel is east of
the choir, and has a "whispering gallery" over its entrance. Beneath the
choir is the crypt, antedating the Norman Conquest, and one of the
remains of the original church of the Benedictines. On the south side of
the choir is the monument to Edward II., standing in an archway. The
effigy is of alabaster, and is surmounted by a beautiful sculptured
canopy. The cloisters north of the nave are most attractive, the roof
being vaulted in fan-patterns of great richness. There can still be seen
along the north walk of these cloisters the lavatories for the monks,
with the troughs into which the water flowed and the recesses in the
wall above to contain the towels. Beyond the cloisters are the other
remains of the monastery, now generally incorporated into houses.
Gloucester has been a bishop's see since the reign of Henry VIII., and
one of its bishops was the zealous Reformer who was martyred in sight of
his own cathedral--John Hooper: his statue stands in St. Mary's Square,
where Queen Mary had him burned as a heretic. Gloucester also has its
Spa, a chalybeate spring recently discovered in the south-eastern
suburbs, but the town is chiefly known to fame abroad by its salmon and
lampreys. The lamprey is caught in the Severn and potted for export,
having been considered a dainty by the epicures of remote as well as
modern times. It was in great request in the time of King John, when we
are told "the men of Gloucester gave forty marks to that king to have
his good will, because they regarded him not as they ought in the matter
of their lampreys." This was the favorite dish of Henry I. (Beauclerc),
and over-indulgence in lampreys finally killed him. It was the custom
until 1836 for the corporation of Gloucester to send every Christmas to
the sovereign "a lamprey pie with a raised crust."



Let us ascend the valley of the Severn, and in the centre of its broad
plain, at the confluence of the Avon, find another great religious house
in the smaller but equally noted town of Tewkesbury. All around are rich
meadows, and here, away from the hills, was the ideal site for a
monastery according to the ancient notion, where the languor of the
gentle air prevented the blood flowing with too quick pulse. The Avon,
spanned by an old arched bridge, washes one side of the town; the
massive abbey-tower rises above a fringe of foliage and orchards, while
on the one hand the horizon is bounded by the steep Cotswolds, and on
the other by the broken masses of the Malverns. Close to the town, on
its western verge, flows the Severn, crossed by a fine modern iron
bridge. Tewkesbury is known to fame by its mustard, its abbey, and its
battle. The renown of the Tewkesbury mustard goes back for at least
three centuries: as "thick as Tewkesbury mustard" was a proverb of
Falstaff's. That old-time historian Fuller says of it, "The best in
England (to take no larger compass) is made at Tewkesbury. It is very
wholesome for the clearing of the head, moderately taken." But,
unfortunately, the reputation of Tewkesbury for this commodity has
declined in modern times.

[Illustration: TEWKESBURY.]

[Illustration: TEWKESBURY ABBEY.]

The history of Tewkesbury Abbey comes from misty antiquity, and it is
thought by some to have been named "Dukes-borough" from two ancient
Britons, Dukes Odda and Dudda, but others say it commemorates a
missionary monk named Theoe, who founded a little church there in the
seventh century. Brictric, King of Wessex, was buried within its walls
in the ninth century, and, like Gloucester, it suffered afterwards from
the ravages of the Danes. But it flourished subsequently, and in the
days of William Rufus the manor was conferred upon Fitz-Hamon, an
influential nobleman, under whose auspices the present abbey was built.
Nothing remains of any prior building. The church was begun in 1100, but
the builder was killed in battle before it was completed. It is in the
form of a cross with short transepts, and a tower rising from the
centre. The choir was originally terminated by apses, which can still be
traced, and there were other apses on the eastern side of each transept.
While the outlines of most of the abbey are Norman, the choir is almost
all of later date. The western front has the singular feature of being
almost all occupied by an enormous and deeply-recessed Norman arch, into
which a doorway and tracery were inserted about two hundred years ago,
replacing one blown down by a storm in 1661. This abbey church was
dedicated in 1123, and the services were almost the last diocesan act of
Theulf, bishop of Worcester. One of the dedication ceremonies was
quaint. As the bishop came to the middle of the nave, we are told that
he found part of the pavement spread with white wood-ashes, upon which
he wrote the alphabet twice with his pastoral staff--first the Greek
alphabet from north-east to south-west, and then the Latin, from
south-east to north-west, thus placing them in the form of a cross. He
signified by this ceremony that all divine revelation was conveyed by
the letters of the alphabet, and that the gospel comprehended under the
shadow of the cross men of all races and all languages. The time had
been when at such consecrations three alphabets were written--the
Hebrew, Greek, and Latin--as the title on the cross had been written in
these three tongues, but the Hebrew was early discontinued, "probably,"
writes Blunt, the historian of Tewkesbury Abbey, "because even bishops
might not always be able to manage their Alpha Beta in that character."
The best views of the abbey are from the south-east, and the interior is
regarded as more remarkable than the exterior. The nave is of singular
grandeur, its round Norman columns being exceptionally lofty. The
triforium is stunted, and consists merely of two pairs of small arches,
above which the ribs of a noble fretted roof expand, so that it appears
as if the roof were immediately supported by the columns of the nave.
The choir is short and hexagonal, being only sixty-six feet from the
reredos, and is surrounded by a number of polygonal chapels, as at
Westminster Abbey, with which it appears quite similar in plan. The Lady
Chapel, originally at the east end, has been entirely destroyed. There
are several monuments of great interest in these chapels, some of them
in the form of chantries--being exquisite cages in stone-work--within
which are the tombs of the founders. Here lie some of the chief nobility
of England who in the days of the Plantagenets were the lords of
Tewkesbury--the Beauchamps, Nevilles, De Clares, and Despensers.
Fitz-Hamon's tomb was not erected until the fourteenth century. Here lie
Clarence and his wife, Isabel, the daughter of Warwick the "King-maker,"
and also the murdered son of Henry VI., who was "stabbed in the field by
Tewkesbury," with other victims of that fatal battle. The remains of the
cloisters lie to the south of the abbey, and beyond is the ancient
gateway, of rather unusual plan.


The battle of Tewkesbury, which sealed the fate of the Lancastrian party
in England, was fought in 1471 upon the Bloody Meadow, then called the
Vineyard, just outside the town and to the southward of the abbey. The
Lancastrian line was soon broken, and the fight became practically a
slaughter, as the defeated party were forced back upon the town and into
the very abbey itself. Many of the fugitives sought refuge in the
church, and the Yorkists followed them, striking down their victims in
the graveyard, and even within the church-doors. The abbot, taking in
his hand the sacred Host, confronted King Edward himself in the porch
and forbade him to pollute the house of God with blood, and would not
allow him to enter until he had promised mercy to those who had sought
refuge inside. This clemency, however, was short-lived, for in the
afternoon the young Prince of Wales, Henry VI.'s son, was brought before
Edward and murdered by his attendants. Shakespeare represents Edward as
dealing the first blow with a dagger, but the truer story seems to be
that, enraged by a haughty answer from the young prince, he struck him
in the face with his gauntlet, which the bystanders accepted as a signal
for the murder. Two days afterwards a number of the chief captives were




Still ascending the valley of the Severn, we come to Worcester, another
of the military stations of the Romans, established to hold this rich,
fertile, and coveted region. Its cathedral, and, in fact, much of the
town, stand upon an elevated ridge, with the river flowing at the base.
To this day Worcester retains the plan of the original Roman camp, but
it does not seem to have made at that time much mark in history. The
Britons captured it, and named the place Wigoma Ceaster, and it was
afterwards incorporated into Mercia. In the eleventh century a castle
was built near the Severn, and the earlier kings of England were
frequently its residents. King John had great veneration for St.
Wulstan, the founder of Worcester Cathedral, and he was laid to rest
beside that saint's shrine. Worcester suffered the usual penalties of
the towns in the Severn Valley: it was destroyed by the Danes and burned
by Hardicanute, and in the twelfth century town, castle, and cathedral
were all consumed by a fire supposed to be caused by the Welsh. It was
partially burned three times subsequently in that century, and in Henry
III.'s reign Simon de Montfort and his son were defeated and slain on
the neighboring hills. The final conflagration was caused by Owen
Glendower in 1401, after which quieter times came until the Civil War.
Worcester was zealous for King Charles, and suffered from two sieges,
being the last city that held out for the royal cause. It was the scene
of Charles II.'s first and unsuccessful effort to regain the English
crown. He had been acknowledged and crowned by the Scots, and attempted
the invasion of England. His army marched down through the western
counties, while Cromwell kept between him and London. He reached
Worcester, when Cromwell determined to attack him, and marched the
Parliamentary army to the outskirts of the city, encamping on Red Hill,
where he intrenched. Sending part of his troops across the Severn, on
September 3, 1651, Cromwell attacked Worcester on both sides, leading
the van of the main body in person. Young Charles held a council of war
in the cathedral-tower, and when he descended to personally lead the
defence, the fight had become hot; and it lasted several hours, Cromwell
describing the battle as being "as stiff a contest as I have ever seen."
The Scots were outnumbered and beaten, but would not surrender, and the
battle did not close till nightfall. Then it was found that, while
Cromwell had suffered inconsiderable loss, the royal forces had lost six
thousand men and all their artillery and baggage. Charles fought
bravely, and narrowly avoided capture. A handful of troops defended
Sidbury Gate, leading in from the suburb of the town where the battle
had been hottest. Charles had to dismount and creep under an overturned
hay-wagon, and, entering the gate, mounted a horse and rode to the
corn-market, where he escaped with Lord Wilmot through the back door of
a house, while some of his officers beat off Cobbett's troops who
attacked the front. Upon this house, built in 1557, is still read the
inscription, "Love God; honor the king." Then getting out of the city,
Charles escaped into the wood of Boscobel, and after a series of
romantic adventures managed to reach the seacoast in Sussex, and on
October 15th embarked at Shoreham for France. It was in this battle that
Worcester earned the motto it still bears of "Civitas fidelis."


Worcester's most conspicuous building is the cathedral, its tower being
prominently seen from miles around. Its western front overlooks the
Severn, and the ground-plan is an elongated rectangle with small double
transepts. The choir and portions of the nave are the original work,
most of the remainder being restored. St. Dunstan's successor, Bishop
Oswald, built the first cathedral here, and during the progress of the
work he met an unexpected check. The ancient chronicler tells us that a
large stone became immovable, and despite every exertion could not be
brought to its proper place. "St. Oswald," he continues, "after praying
earnestly, beheld 'Ethiopem quendam' sitting upon the stone and mocking
the builders: the sign of the cross removed him effectually." No
portion of this original building remains, the earliest parts of the
present cathedral dating from Bishop Wulstan's time, in the eleventh
century. Wulstan was a man of piety and simplicity who retained his see
after the Norman Conquest. The increasing number of monks in the
monastery compelled the removal of Oswald's church to make more room,
and Wulstan regretfully built the new cathedral, saying he was pulling
down the church of a far holier man than himself. Miracles were frequent
at Wulstan's tomb, and in 1203 he was canonized. His church was
unlucky--several times partly burned, and once the central tower fell,
and afterwards the two western towers during storms; but it was always
repaired, and in 1218, St. Wulstan's remains were removed to a shrine
near the high altar, and the cathedral rededicated in the presence of
Henry III. The interior view is striking, the arches of the nave,
triforium, and clerestory being in harmonious proportions. In the middle
of the choir is King John's monument, the effigy representing him
crowned and in royal robes, holding the sceptre and the sword, the point
of the latter inserted in the mouth of a lion on which his feet rest. We
are told that in 1797 the coffin was found beneath the tomb, with the
apparel partially mouldered, but the remains all gone. There are several
other monuments in the cathedral--one a mural slab commemorating Anne,
wife of Izaak Walton, "a woman of remarkable prudence and of the
primitive piety." The crypt beneath the choir is a remnant of Wulstan's
work, and the old doors of the cathedral, dating from the thirteenth
century, are preserved there: fragments of human skin are still seen
upon them, reputed to have been that of a man who was flayed for
stealing a holy bell. In the north walk of the cloisters is the
grave-slab famous for bearing the shortest and saddest inscription in
England, "Miserrimus:" it is said to cover one of the minor canons,
named Morris, who declined to take the oath of allegiance to William
III. and had to be supported by alms. Around the cloisters are the ruins
of the ancient monastery, the most prominent fragments being those of
the Guesten Hall, erected in 1320. Access to the cathedral close, on the
south-eastern side, is obtained through an ancient gateway called the
Edgar Tower, one of the earliest structures connected with the
cathedral, which is still fairly preserved: it was evidently intended
for defence. The bishops of Worcester present an unbroken line for
twelve centuries, including, in later days, Latimer the martyr,
Prideaux, and Stillingfleet. It was in Worcester Cathedral, on October
23, 1687, that James II. touched several persons to cure the scrofula
or king's evil; and when William III. afterwards visited Worcester he
yielded to sundry entreaties to touch sufferers, but in doing so said,
"God give you better health and more sense!" These were about the last
"touchings" known in England. Upon James II.'s visit he attended mass at
the Catholic chapel, and was waited upon to the door by the mayor and
corporation officers, but they declined to enter a Roman Catholic place
of worship. A minute in the corporation proceedings explains that they
passed the time until the service was over in smoking and drinking at
the Green Dragon Inn, loyally charging the bill to the city. Worcester
in ancient times was famous for its cloth, but other places have since
eclipsed it. It is now noted mainly for gloves, fine porcelain, and
Worcester Sauce.

[Illustration: CLOSE IN WORCESTER.]


The broad valley of the Severn is bounded on its western side by the
boldly-rising Malvern range of hills, which are elevated so steeply and
so suddenly above the plain that they produce an impression of size and
height much greater than they really possess, and are more imposing than
many summits that far surpass them in magnitude. There is reason,
therefore, in Mrs. Browning's poetic expression:

  "Malvern Hills, for mountains counted
  Not unduly, form a row."

The Malvern range is a ridge running nearly north and south, with a
series of smooth, steep summits, the breadth of the range being barely
half a mile. Their slopes are of turf and furze, often as steep as the
pitched roof of a house, with crags projecting here and there. The
chief summits are the North Hill, rising eleven hundred and fifty-one
feet above the Severn, the Worcestershire Beacon, fourteen hundred and
forty-four feet, and the Herefordshire Beacon, thirteen hundred and
seventy feet. Their highest parts are covered with verdure, and nearly
seventeen hundred different varieties of plants have been found on the
range. These hills stand as one of Nature's bulwarks, an outwork of the
mountain-region of Wales, dividing an upland from a lowland district,
each furnishing totally different characteristics. They were the
boundary between the Romans and the Britons, and their summits present
some remarkable remains of ancient fortifications. The Worcestershire
Beacon rises directly above the town of Great Malvern, and south of it a
fissure called the Wyche sinks down to about nine hundred feet
elevation, enabling a road to be carried across the ridge. Some distance
south of this there is an even lower depression, by which the high-road
crosses from Worcester to Hereford. Then to the southward is the
Herefordshire Beacon, and beyond it several lower summits. These two
gaps or gateways in this natural wall of defence are both guarded by
ancient camps of unusual strength and still in good preservation. One of
these camps on the Herefordshire Beacon, with ditches, ramparts, and a
keep, encloses forty-four acres. Also on top of the ridge are found
traces of the ditch that was dug to mark the dividing-lines between the
hunting-grounds of the bishops who ruled on either hand in Hereford and
in Worcester. The bishops in the olden time appear to have been as keen
sportsmen as the nobles.

The town of Great Malvern, on the eastern slope of the hills, is
elevated five hundred and twenty feet, and is in high repute as a
watering-place. It had its origin in a priory, of which there still
remains the fine old church, with a surmounting gray tower and an
entrance-gateway which have escaped the general ruin of the monastery.
Within this ancient church the ornaments of some of the old stalls in
the choir are very quaint, representing a man leading a bear, a dying
miser handing his money-bags to the priest and doctor, and three rats
solemnly hanging a cat on a gallows. The priory was the nucleus about
which gathered the town, or, properly speaking, the towns, for there are
a series of them, all well-known watering-places. Great Malvern has
North Malvern alongside it and Malvern Link on the lower hills, while to
the southward are Malvern Wells and Little Malvern, with West Malvern
over on the Hereford side of the ridge. They are aggregations of pretty
villas, and the many invalids who seek their relief are drawn about in
Bath-chairs by little donkeys. The view from the Worcestershire Beacon
is grand, extending over a broad surface in all directions, for we are
told that when the beacon-fires that were lighted upon this elevated
ridge warned England of the approach of the Spanish Armada,

  "Twelve fair counties saw the blaze
    From Malvern's lonely height."

The advantages the Malvern range offers as a sanitarium are pure air and
pure water. The towns are elevated above the fogs of the valleys, and
the rainfall is small, while both winter's cold and summer's heat are
tempered. St. Anne's Well and the Holy Well are the great sources of
pure water. The latter is at Malvern Wells, and the former on the side
of the Worcestershire Beacon, at an elevation of eight hundred and
twenty feet. Both are slightly alkaline, but St. Anne's Well is the most
famous, and is tastefully enclosed. Water-cure establishments abound
here, and with such air, such water, and such magnificent scenery it is
no wonder that the Malvern Hills are among the most popular resorts of

[Illustration: ST. ANNE'S WELL.]


[Illustration: BUTCHERS' ROW, HEREFORD.]



From the top of the Malvern Hills the western view looks down upon the
attractive valley of the river Wye, a famous stream that takes its rise
in the mountains of Wales, and after flowing through Herefordshire and
Monmouthshire falls into the Severn. Rising on the south-eastern side of
Plynlimmon, a group of three mountains elevated nearly twenty-five
hundred feet, it is one of five rivers whose sources are almost in the
same spot, but which flow in opposite directions--the Llyffnant,
Rheidol, Dyfi, Severn, and Wye. For miles it is a mountain torrent,
receiving other streams, and flowing eastward through Radnor and
Brecknock, where it is the resort of artists and anglers. It passes near
the burial-place of Llewellyn, the last native Prince of Wales, who died
in 1282, and then, bordered by railway and highway, comes down through
picturesque ravines past Hay and its ruined castle in a beautiful glen
at the base of the Black Mountains, which rise abruptly from its
southern bank. Near Hay, and overlooking the river, are the ruins of
Clifford Castle, which was the birthplace of "Fair Rosamond." Here the
Wye enters Herefordshire, the valley broadens, and the stream gradually
leads us to the ancient town of Hereford, standing chiefly on its
northern bank and in a delightful situation. This city does not lay
claim to Roman origin, but it was nevertheless one of the fortified
outposts of England on the border of Wales, and was often the scene of
warfare. It was walled and vigorously defended, while hostelries and
chapels were erected for the accommodation of pilgrims and other
visitors. Hereford contained the shrines of St. Ethelbert and St. Thomas
Cantelupe, but its chief relic of antiquity is the house that remains of
the "old Butchers' Row," which was originally a large and irregular
cluster of wooden buildings placed nearly in the middle of the locality
known as the High Town. All but one of these houses have been taken
down, and the one that remains shows window-frames, doors, stairs, and
floors all made of thick and solid masses of timber, apparently
constructed to last for ages. A shield over one of the doors bears a
boar's head and three bulls' heads, having two winged bulls for
supporters and another bull for a crest. On other parts are emblems of
the slaughter-house, such as ropes, rings, and axes. Thus did our
English ancestors caricature the imaginary dignity of heraldry. This
attractive old house is a relic of the days of James I. Nell Gwynne was
born in Hereford, and the small cottage in Pipe Lane which was her
birthplace has only recently been pulled down. It was a little
four-roomed house, and an outhouse opening on the Wye, which was
standing in poor Nelly's days, remains. Hereford Cathedral is a fine
Norman structure, begun in the eleventh century and recently restored.
The most imposing portion of the interior is the north transept, which
was built to receive the shrine of Cantelupe. The remains of the Black
Friars' monastery are in the Widemarsh suburb. They consist chiefly of
an interesting relic of that religious order, an hexagonal
preaching-cross standing on a flight of steps and open on each side.
Hereford Castle has disappeared, but its site is an attractive public
walk overlooking the Wye, called the Castle Green.



[Illustration: ROSS BRIDGE.]

[Illustration: HOUSE OF THE "MAN OF ROSS."]

The Wye flows on through a fairly open valley, with broad meadows
extending from the bases of the wooded hills to the river. On
approaching Ross the meadows contract, the hills come nearer together,
and the new phase of scenery in the glen which here begins makes the Wye
the most beautiful among English rivers. Ross stands at the entrance to
the glen, built upon a sloping hill which descends steeply to the Wye.
It was the Ariconium of the Romans, and has been almost without stirring
history. It has grown in all these centuries to be a town of about four
thousand five hundred population, with considerable trade, being the
centre of a rich agricultural section, and is chiefly known to fame as
the home of Pope's "Man of Ross." This was John Kyrle, who was born at
the village of Dymock, not far away, May 22, 1637. He was educated at
Balliol College, Oxford, where they still preserve a piece of plate
which he presented as a parting gift. He afterwards settled at Ross, and
lived to an advanced age, dying November 11, 1724. He was described as
"nearly six feet high, strong and lusty made, jolly and ruddy in the
face, with a large nose." His claim to immortality, which has made his
name a household word in England, cannot better be described than by
quoting some of Pope's lines:

  "Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow?
  From the dry soil who bade the waters flow?...
  Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows?
  Whose seats the weary traveller repose?
  Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise?
  'The Man of Ross,' each lisping babe replies.
  Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread!
  The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread:
  He feeds yon almshouse, neat, but void of state,
  Where age and want sit smiling at the gate:
  Him portioned maids, apprenticed orphans blest,
  The young who labor, and the old who rest.
  Is any sick? The Man of Ross relieves.
  Prescribes, attends, the med'cine makes and gives.
  Is there a variance? Enter but his door.
  Balked are the courts and contest is no more....
  Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue
  What all so wish, but want the power to do!
  Oh say what sums that generous hand supply,
  What mines to swell that boundless charity?
  Of debts and taxes, wife and children, clear.
  That man possessed--five hundred pounds a year!"

[Illustration: MARKET PLACE, ROSS.]

[Illustration: ROSS CHURCH.]


It is not often that a man can do so much to benefit his townsfolk out
of the modest income of $2500 a year; and not only Pope, but Coleridge
also, has found this a theme for verse. The house in which the "Man of
Ross" lived is on the left-hand side of the market-place, and still
stands, though much changed. It is now a drug-store and a dwelling. The
floors and panelling of several of the chambers are of oak, while a
quaint opening leads to a narrow corridor and into a small room, which
tradition says was his bedroom, where he endured his last and only
illness, and died. The bedroom looks out upon his garden, divided like
the house, one-half being converted into a bowling-green. The
surrounding walls are overrun with vines and bordered by pear trees. On
the other side of the market-place is the town-hall, standing on an
eminence and facing the principal street, which comes up from the
river-bank. This hall is somewhat dilapidated, though still in daily
use, and is supported on crumbling pillars of red sandstone. Ross is
chiefly built upon the slope of a hill, terminating in a plateau, one
side of which the Wye, flowing through a horseshoe bend, has scarped out
into a river-cliff. Upon this plateau stands the little Ross Church with
its tall spire, a striking building in a singularly fortunate situation.
The churchyard, with an adjoining public garden called the Prospect,
extends to the brow of the cliff. The church is cruciform, and its spire
the landmark for the surrounding country. It was built in the fourteenth
century, but is without architectural features. The "Man of Ross" rests
within its walls, buried near the altar under a blue slab. His memory is
the most cherished remembrance of Ross, and is mellowed as the ages
pass. His fireside chair stands in the chancel, and they also show a
book containing his autograph. A tablet to his memory is inserted in the
wall, erected by a distant relative, Lady Betty Dupplin, for it is said,
as is usually the case, that his good deeds excited more enthusiasm in
strangers than among the people whom he benefited. Within the church, in
front of a window, two trees are growing, another indirect and
posthumous memorial of the "Man of Ross." They appeared about fifty
years ago, and the story is that a rector of the parish had cut down a
tree on the outside of the wall which the "Man of Ross" had originally
planted, whereupon these suckers made their appearance within the
building and asserted the vitality of the parent tree. They shot up
against the seat which is said to have been his favorite one, and though
at first objected to, the church-wardens bowed to the inevitable, and
they are now among the most prized relics within the church. The public
garden (the Prospect) adjoining the churchyard was another benefaction
of the "Man of Ross," and with some private houses and a hotel it crowns
the summit of the plateau. Here the hand of the "Man of Ross" again
appears in a row of noble elms around the churchyard which he is said to
have planted, some of them of great size. The view from the Prospect,
however, is the town's chief present glory. It stands on the brink of
the river-cliff, with the Wye sweeping at its feet around the apex of
the long horseshoe curve. Within the curve is the grassy Oak Meadow
dotted with old trees. On either hand are meadows and cornfields, with
bits of wood, and the Welsh hills rise in the distance.



[Illustration: A BEND OF THE RIVER WYE.]

The Wye flows on through its picturesque glen towards Monmouth, the
water bubbling with a strong current. A raised causeway carries the road
to Monmouth over the meadows. On the right hand are the ruins of Wilton
Castle, built in Stephen's reign, and burned in the Civil War. Tourists
go by small boats floated on the current down the Wye, and the boats are
hauled back on donkey-carts, little trains of them being seen creeping
along the Monmouth road. From Ross to Monmouth the river flows through a
region of rolling hills, with abrupt declivities where the rapid stream
has scarped the margin into cliffs and ridges. The valley narrows, and
the very crooked river flows through bewitching scenery until by another
great horseshoe bend it winds around the ruins of Goodrich Castle,
reared upon a wooded cliff, with Goodrich Court near by. The latter is a
modern imitation of a mediæval dwelling, constructed according to the
erratic whims of a recent owner. This Court once contained the finest
collection of ancient armor in England, but most of it has been
transferred to the South Kensington Museum. Goodrich Castle was once a
formidable fortress, and it dates from the reign of Stephen. Here it was
that in the days of Edward the Confessor, "entrenched in a stockade of
wood, Goderic de Winchcomb held the ford" over the Wye, and gave the
place his name. It grew in strength until the Civil War, when Sir
Richard Lingen held it for the king. This was a memorable contest,
lasting six weeks, during which the besiegers belabored it with the best
battering-cannon they could procure, and used up eighty barrels of
gunpowder voted by Parliament for the purpose. Then the defenders
demanded a parley, but the assailants, angry at being so long baulked of
their prey, insisted upon unconditional surrender. Afterwards the castle
was demolished, but the fine old keep remains in good preservation,
commanding a grand view over the winding valley of the Wye and to the
Forest of Dean in one direction and the Malvern Hills in another. The
ruins are of a quadrangular fortress, and within the courtyard
Wordsworth once met the child whose prattle suggested his familiar poem,
"We are Seven." Little now remains of Goodrich Priory, but the parish
church of the village can be seen afar off, and contains a chalice
presented by Dean Swift, whose grandfather, Thomas Swift, was once its

[Illustration: IN SYMOND'S YAT.]

Below Goodrich this wayward river makes an enormous loop, wherein it
goes wandering about for eight miles and accomplishes just one mile's
distance. Here it becomes a boundary between the two Bickner
villages--Welsh Bickner and English Bickner. To the eastward is the
Forest of Dean, covering over twenty-six thousand acres, and including
extensive coal-pits and iron-works, the smoke from the latter
overhanging the valley. The river-channel is dug deeply into the
limestone rocks, whose fissured and ivy-clad cliffs rise high above the
water, varied by occasional green meadows, where cattle are feeding. The
river bends sharply to the westward past the crags at Coldwell, and then
doubles back upon its former course. This second bend is around a high
limestone plateau which is the most singular feature of the beautiful
glen. The river sweeps in an elongated loop of about five miles, and
returns to within eighteen hundred feet of its former channel, and the
plateau rises six hundred feet to the apex of the headland that mounts
guard over the grand curve--the famous Symond's Yat. On the top are the
remains of an ancient British fort, and rocks, woods, fields, and
meadows slope down to the river on almost every side, making a
bewitching scene. It was here that the Northman Vikings in 911 fortified
themselves after they landed on the Severn and penetrated through the
Forest of Dean. They were led by Eric in quest of plunder, and captured
a bishop, who was afterwards ransomed for two hundred dollars. Their
foray roused the people, who besieged the Vikings, forming a square
encampment which commanded their fortification, and remains of which are
still visible. They drove the Vikings out with their hail of arrows, and
punished them so terribly that the defile down which they fled is still
known as "The Slaughter." The remnant who escaped afterwards surrendered
on condition of being allowed to quit the country, and their experience
had such wholesome influence that no Vikings came that way afterwards.

The Wye next bends around two bold limestone hills known as the Great
and the Little Doward, each surmounted by ancient encampments, where
arrowheads and other relics, not to forget the bones of a giant, have
been found. In fact, bones seem to be a prolific product of this region,
for the "bone-caves" of the Dowards produce the relics of many animals
long vanished from the kingdom, and also disclose rude weapons of flint,
showing that the primitive races of men were here with them. Beds of
stalagmites, sand, and gravel covered these relics, deposited by an
ancient stream which geologists say flowed three hundred feet above the
present bed of the Wye. Then we come to the richly-wooded deer-park of
the Leys with its exquisite views, and here the wildly romantic scenery
is gradually subdued into a more open valley and a straighter stream as
the Wye flows on towards Monmouth. The parts of the river just described
are not more renowned for their beauty, though considered the finest in
England, than for their salmon, and we are told that three men with a
net have been known to catch a ton of salmon in a day, while the
fishery-rights are let at over $100,000 annually.


The beautiful valley, with its picturesque scenery, expands somewhat as
the Wye approaches its junction with the river Monnow and flows through
a succession of green meadows. Here, between the two rivers on a low
spur, a prolongation of their bordering hills, stands Monmouth, its
ancient suburbs spreading across the Monnow. From the market-place, the
chief street of the town leads down to these suburbs, crossing over an
old-time bridge. The town has its church and the ruins of a priory,
while perched on a cliff overlooking the Monnow is its castle,
displaying rather extensive but not very attractive remains. John of
Monmouth is said to have built this castle in the reign of Henry III.
Here also lived at one time John of Gaunt and his son, Harry Hereford,
who afterwards became Henry IV., and the latter's son, Harry Monmouth,
was born in this old castle, growing up to become the wild "Prince Hal,"
and afterwards the victor at Agincourt. They still show a narrow window,
with remains of tracery, as marking the room in which he first saw the
light. Thus has "Prince Hal" become the patron of Monmouth, and his
statue stands in front of the town-hall, representing the king in full
armor, and inscribed, "Henry V., born at Monmouth August 9, 1387," but
it is not regarded as remarkable for its artistic finish. The remains
of the old priory are utilized for a school. It was founded by the
Benedictines in the reign of Henry I., and in it lived Geoffrey of
Monmouth, a familiar author in days when books were few. He was Bishop
of St. Asaph's in the year 1152, and wrote his _History of the Britons_,
wherein he combined all the fables of the time so ingeniously with the
truth that they became alike history. Out of his imagination grew the
tale of the "Round Table" and its knights.

[Illustration: MONMOUTH BRIDGE.]


Upon the old bridge crossing the Monnow stands an ancient gate-house,
constructed in the style that prevailed in the thirteenth century, but
it is doubtful if this was a military work, its probable use being the
collection of tolls on the produce brought into the town. It is pierced
with postern arches for the foot-passengers, and still retains the place
for its portcullis. All around the Monmouth market-place are the old
houses where the celebrated Monmouth caps were made that were so popular
in old times, and of which Fluellen spoke when he told Henry V., "If
Your Majesty is remembered of it, the Welshmen did good service in a
garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps."
Monmouth is not a large town, having but six thousand inhabitants, but
it takes a mayor, four aldermen, two bailiffs, and twelve councillors to
govern them, and its massive county-jail is a solid warning to all
evil-doers. From the summit of the lofty Kymin Hill, rising seven
hundred feet on the eastern side of the town, there is a grand panorama
over the valley of the Wye. This hill is surmounted by a pavilion and
temple, built in 1800 to record the naval victories of England in the
American wars. Farther down the valley was the home of the late Lord
Raglan, and here are the ruins of Raglan Castle, built in the fifteenth
century. For ten weeks in the Civil War the venerable Marquis of
Worcester held this castle against Fairfax's siege, but the redoubtable
old hero, who was aged eighty-four, ultimately had to surrender.

[Illustration: RAGLAN CASTLE.]


The Wye at Monmouth also receives the Trothy River, and the confluence
of the three valleys makes a comparatively open basin, which, however,
again narrows into another romantic glen a short distance below the
town. Wild woods border the steep hills, and the Wye flows through the
western border of the Forest of Dean, an occasional village attesting
the mineral wealth by its blackened chimneys. Here, below Redbrook, was
the home of Admiral Rooke, who captured Gibraltar in 1704, and farther
down are the ruins of the castle of St. Briard, built in the days of
Henry I. to check Welsh forays. Here lived the lord warden of the Forest
of Dean, and for three centuries every Whit-Sunday they held the annual
"scramble" in the church. It appears that a tax of one penny was levied
on every person who pastured his cattle on the common, and the amount
thus raised was expended for bread and cheese. The church was crowded,
and the clerk standing in the gallery threw out the edibles to the
struggling congregation below. The railway closely hugs the
swiftly-flowing river in its steep and narrow glen as we pass Offa's
Dyke and Chair and the Moravian village of Brockweir. Here the line of
fortifications crossed the valley which the king of Mercia constructed
to protect his dominions. The valley then slightly expands, and the
green sward is dotted by the houses of the long and scattered village of
Tintern Parva. The river sharply bends, and in the glen on the western
side stand the ruins of the far-famed Tintern Abbey in the green meadows
at the brink of the Wye. The spot is well chosen, for nowhere along this
celebrated river has Nature indicated a better place for quiet, heavenly
meditation not un-mixed with earthly comforts.

[Illustration: TINTERN ABBEY.]

Walter de Clare founded Tintern Abbey in 1131 for the Cistercian monks,
and dedicated it to St. Mary. It was built upon an ancient battlefield
where a Christian prince of Glamorgan had been slain by the heathen, but
of the buildings erected by De Clare none now exist, the present remains
being of later date, and the abbey church that is now in ruin was
erected by Roger Bigod, Duke of Norfolk. It is a magnificent relic of
the Decorated period. The vaulted roof and central tower are gone, but
the arches which supported the latter remain. The row of columns on the
northern side of the nave have fallen, with the clerestory above them,
but the remainder of the structure has suffered little damage. The
western front, with its noble window and exquisite tracery, is very
fine. Ivy and ferns overrun the walls and form a coping, while green
sward has replaced the pavement, so that it would be difficult to
imagine a more enchanting ruin, and as such Tintern is renowned the
world over. Lord Houghton has written:

  "The men who called their passion piety,
  And wrecked this noble argosy of faith,--
  They little thought how beauteous could be death,
  How fair the face of time's aye-deepening sea,
  Nor arms that desolate, nor years that flee,
  Nor hearts that fail, can utterly deflower
  This grassy floor of sacramental power
  Where we now stand communicants."

Tintern Abbey is two hundred and twenty-eight feet long. It had no
triforium, and the clerestory windows are rather large. The great east
window was even more elaborate than the western, but all of it has
fallen excepting the central mullion and the stronger portion of the
tracery which branches out on either side from it. There yet remain in
the building a few tiles with heraldic emblems, some broken monuments,
and some heaps of choice carvings, shattered as they fell, but
afterwards collected and piled against the walls. The Duke of Beaufort,
to whose estate it belongs, has done everything possible to arrest
decay, and all is kept in perfect order. A door leads out of the
southern transept to a few fragments of buildings in the fields on that
side, but most of the convent was on the northern side, where its ruins
surround a grass-grown quadrangle. A cloister once ran around it; on the
eastern side is the chapter-house, with the dormitory above, and on the
western side the remains of the abbot's lodgings and the guest-chambers
have been converted into cottages. The refectory and guest-hall are to
the northward, with ruins of the octagonal columns that supported the
roof. Such is this magnificent relic of the Cistercians, and yet it is
but one of seventy-six abbeys that they possessed before Henry VIII.
dissolved them. From the high-road down the valley of the Wye, which
skirts the green meadows along its southern face, is the best view of
the abbey, and the ruddy gray stone ruins, with the grassy fields and
the background of wooded hills beyond the broad river, make up a picture
that cannot easily be forgotten. Yet Tintern is most beautiful of all
when the full moon rising over the eastern hills pours a flood of light
through the broken east window to the place where once stood the high

The valley of the Wye again broadens, and the river flows in graceful
curves through the meadows, guarded on either hand by cliffs and woods.
The river is here a tidal-stream, having a rise of twelve feet, so that
it is now a strong current, flowing full and swift between grassy banks,
and anon is a shrunken creek, fringed by broad borders of mud. The
railway on the eastern bank runs over the meadows and through occasional
tunnels in the spurs of the cliffs. The high-road climbs the hill on the
western bank, known as the Wynecliff, from the top of which there is a
grand view over the valley and to the southward towards and beyond
Chepstow. This cliff rises nine hundred feet above the river, and is the
great monarch of a realm of crags that poke up their heads in all
directions. Across the Wye, on a tongue of land projecting into the
stream, Sir John Wyntour in the Civil War, with one hundred and eighty
Royalists, hastily built a fort to command the river. Before their
intrenchments were complete the enemy in superior force attacked and
completely routed them; but twenty escaped, and Wyntour, cutting his way
through the assailants' lines, took refuge in the beetling crags behind
known as the Tidenham Rocks. The cavalry pursued him, when he forced his
horse down a part somewhat less precipitous than the rest, reached the
bank in safety, and escaped by swimming his horse over the river. The
precipice is still known as Wyntour's Leap. Below, the Wye flows through
Chepstow, with iron bridges spanning it to carry the road and railway
across. The main part of the town on the western part is built upon a
slope that in places descends somewhat rapidly to the river. Parts of
the old walls are still preserved, strengthened at intervals by round
towers. Chepstow has its ruined church, once a priory, within which
Henry Marten the regicide was buried after twenty years' imprisonment in
the castle.

[Illustration: CHEPSTOW CASTLE.]

The great point of interest is Chepstow Castle, built here to command
the Wye, and standing in a fine situation on the edge of the river in a
naturally fortified position. Upon the land-side deep trenches and
outworks protect it, while a grassy meadow intervenes between its
gateway and the Wye, that here makes a sharp curve. To get the castle in
between the crags and the river, it was constructed upon a long and
narrow plan, and is divided into four courts. The main entrance on the
eastern side is through a ponderous gateway flanked by solid towers and
with curiously-constructed ancient wooden doors. Entering the court,
there is a massive tower on the left hand with an exterior staircase
turret, while on the right the custodian lives in a group of
comparatively modern buildings, beneath which is a vaulted chamber
communicating with the river. Within this tower, whose walls are of
great thickness, Henry Marten was imprisoned. He was one of the court
that tried King Charles, and his signature is upon the king's
death-warrant. He was a spendthrift, and afterwards had a quarrel with
Cromwell, who denounced him as an unbeliever, and even as a buffoon.
When Charles II. made the proclamation of amnesty, Marten surrendered,
but he was tried and condemned to death. He plead that he came in under
the proffer of mercy, and the sentence was commuted to a life
imprisonment; and after a short confinement in the Tower of London he
was removed to Chepstow, where he died twenty years later, in 1680.
Passing into the smaller second court, for the rocks contract it, there
is a strong tower protecting its entrance, and at the upper end are the
ruins of the great hall, relics of the fourteenth century. Two or three
windows, a door, and part of an arcade remain, but roof and floor are
gone. A still smaller court lies beyond, at the upper end of which is a
gateway defended by a moat, beyond which is the western gate and court
of the castle, so that this last enclosure forms a kind of barbican.
Chepstow was elaborately defended, and its only vulnerable points were
from the meadows on the east and the higher ground to the west; but
before the days of artillery it was regarded as impregnable, and
excellently performed its duty as a check upon the Welsh. Fitzosbern,
Earl of Hereford, built the older parts in the eleventh century, but the
most of Chepstow dates from that great epoch of castle-building on the
Welsh border, the reign of Edward I. We are told that the second
Fitzosbern was attainted and his estates forfeited, but that the king
one Easter graciously sent to him in prison his royal robes. The earl so
disdained the favor that he burned them, which made the king so angry
that he said, "Certainly this is a very proud man who hath thus abused
me, but, by the brightness of God, he shall never come out of prison so
long as I live." Whereupon, says Dugdale, who tells the tale, he
remained a prisoner until he died. Chepstow was then bestowed upon the
De Clares, who founded Tintern Abbey, and it afterwards passed by
marriage to the Bigod family. Chepstow in the Civil War was held for the
king, and surrendered to the Parliamentary troops. Soon afterwards it
was surprised at the western gate and retaken. Cromwell then besieged
it, but, the siege proving protracted, he left Colonel Ewer in charge.
The Royalist garrison of about one hundred and sixty men were reduced to
great extremity and tried to escape by a boat, but in this they were
disappointed, as one of the besiegers, watching his opportunity, swam
across the Wye with a knife in his teeth and cut the boat adrift. Then
the castle was assaulted and taken, and the commander and most of the
garrison slain. Parliament gave it to Cromwell, but after the
Restoration it was returned to the heirs of the Marquis of Worcester,
its owner, and it still belongs to his descendant, the Duke of Beaufort.
The neighborhood of Chepstow has many pleasant villas in beautiful
sites, and the broadening Wye flows a short distance beyond through the
meadow-land, and then debouches into the estuary of the Severn.


[Illustration: PONTRILAS COURT.]

[Illustration: THE SCYRRID VAWR.]

Still journeying westward beyond the beautiful valley of the Wye, we
will ascend its tributary, the Monnow, to its sources in the Black
Mountains on the borders of Wales. We skirted along the northern side of
these mountains with the Wye, while the Monnow takes us fairly into
them. The little river Dore is one of the head-waters of the Monnow, and
it flows through the picturesque region known as the Golden Valley, just
on the edge of Brecon, where the trout-fishing is as attractive as the
scenery. All its streams rise upon the flanks of the Black Mountains,
and the village of Pontrilas is its railway-station at the entrance to
the valley. This village is devoted to the manufacture of naphtha, for
which purpose mules bring wood from the neighboring forests, and it was
once honored with the presence of a hotel. This was its principal
mansion, Pontrilas Court, but it has long since been converted into a
private residence. This court is a characteristic Elizabethan mansion,
standing in a beautiful garden almost smothered in foliage and running
vines. About a mile up the valley is the pretty village of Ewias Harold,
with its church on one sloping bank of the little river and its castle
on the other. Within the church alongside the chancel there is a
recumbent female figure holding a casket in its hands. The tomb upon
which it is placed was some time ago opened, but nothing was found
within excepting a case containing a human heart. The monument probably
commemorates an unknown benefactress whose corpse lies elsewhere, but
who ordered her heart sent to the spot she loved best. The castle,
standing on an eminence, was once a strong fortress, and tradition says
it was built by Harold before he was king, but it does not occupy a
prominent place in history. Ascending a hill to the northward, a view is
obtained over the valleys of the three picturesque streams--the Dore,
Dulas, and Monnow--that afterwards unite their waters; and, proceeding
up the Dore, we come to the village of Abbey Dore, with the roofless
ruins of its abbey, a part of which is utilized for the parish church,
though scarcely anything is now left beyond fragments of the conventual
buildings. This was a Cistercian monastery founded by Robert of Ewias in
the reign of Henry I. We are now in the heart of the Golden Valley,
which seems to be excavated out of a plateau with long, terrace-like
hills bounding it on either hand, their lower parts rich in verdure,
while their summits are dark and generally bare. Every available part of
the lower surface is thoroughly cultivated, its hedgerows and copses
giving variety to the scene. As we move up the valley the Scyrrid Vawr
raises its notched and pointed summit like a peak dropped down upon the
lowlands. This mountain, nearly fifteen hundred feet high, whose name
means the "Great Fissure," is severed into an upper and lower summit by
a deep cleft due to a landslip. It is also known as the Holy Mountain,
and in its day has been the goal of many pilgrims. St. Michael, the
guardian of the hills, has a chapel there, where crowds resorted on the
eve of his festival. It used to be the custom for the Welsh farmers to
send for sackloads of earth out of the cleft in this Holy Mountain,
which they sprinkled over their houses and farm-buildings to avoid evil.
They were also especially careful to strew portions over the coffins and
graves of the dead. At the village of Wormridge, where some members of
the Clive family are buried, there is a grand old elm on the
village-green around which the people used to assemble for wrestling and
for the performance of other rural amusements. At the base of this tree
stood the stocks, that dungeon "all of wood" to which it is said there

  "----neither iron bar nor gate,
  Portcullis, chain, nor bolt, nor grate,
  And yet men durance there abide
  In dungeon scarce three inches wide."

This famous valley also contains the pretty church and scanty ruins of
the castle of Kilpeck; also the church of St. Peter at Rowlstone, where
the ornamental representations of cocks and apostolic figures all have
their heads downward, in memory of the position in which St. Peter was
crucified. Here also, on the edge of the Black Mountains, is Oldcastle,
whose ruins recall its owner, Sir John "of that ilk," the martyr who was
sentenced in 1417 to be taken from the Tower of London to St. Giles'
gallows, there to be hanged, and burned while hanging, as "a most
pernicious, detestable heretic." At Longtown, the residence of the
Lacies, there are remains of the walls and circular keep of their strong
Border fortress. Kentchurch, on the slope of Garway Hill, is a seat of
the Earl of Scudamore, where anciently lived John of Kent, a poet and
mathematician, of whom Symonds tells us in his _Records of the Rocks_
that "he sold his soul to the devil, and constructed the bridge over the
Monnow in a single night." The ruined castle of Grosmont is about a mile
distant: it was often besieged by the Welsh, and we are told that on one
occasion "the king came with a great army to raise the siege, whereof,
as soon as the Welshmen had understanding, they saved their lives by
their legges." It was here that Henry of Monmouth defeated the Welsh,
capturing Glendower's son Griffith.



Rounding the southern extremity of the Black Mountains, and proceeding
farther westward, we enter another beautiful region, the Vale of Usk, a
stream that flows southward into the estuary of the Severn. Here is
Abergavenny, with its ancient castle guarding the entrance to the upper
valley, and with mountains on every side. Here rises, just north of the
town, the Sugar Loaf, one thousand eight hundred and fifty-two feet
high, and on the left hand the mass of old red sandstone known as the
Blorenge, one thousand seven hundred and twenty feet high. A few miles
up the tributary vale of Ewias, which discloses glorious scenery, are
the ruins of Llanthony Priory. The valley is a deep winding glen cut out
by the Hodeni between the great cliffs of the Black Mountains on the one
side and the ranges around the Sugar Loaf on the other. In places the
cliffs are precipitous, but, generally, the lower slopes furnish
pasture-land and occasional woods, while the upper parts are covered
with bracken fern, with a few trees and copses. The priory stands on a
gentle slope at the base of the Black Mountains, elevated a short
distance above the stream. Its original name was Llanhodeni, or "the
Place by the Hodeni." It was founded by two hermits in the beginning of
the twelfth century--William de Lacy, a Norman knight, and Ernisius,
chaplain to Maud, wife of Henry I. They first built a small chapel
dedicated to St. David; gifts flowed in, and they were soon enabled to
construct a grand religious house, occupied by Augustinian monks, of
whom Ernisius became the first prior. Predatory raids by the Welsh,
however, harassed the monks, and after submitting for some time to these
annoyances they migrated to Gloucester, and founded another priory
alongside the Severn. Later, however, they returned to the old place and
kept up both establishments, but in the reign of Edward IV. the older
was merged into the newer "because of the turbulence of the neighboring
people and the irregular lives of its inmates." The ruins of Llanthony
are supposed to date from about 1200, and are of a marked though simple
beauty. The convent buildings are almost all gone, excepting fragments
of the cellars and chapter-house. The prior's residence has become a
farm-house, and where the monks sat in solemn conclave is now its
outbuildings. The towers are used, one for chambers and the other for a
dairy. The main part of the church is, however, carefully preserved with
a green turf floor, and the western towers up to the level of the walls
of the nave are still quite perfect, though the west window is gone and
parts of the adjacent walls have perished. The north transept has
fallen, but the southern transept is still in fair condition, lighted at
the end by a pair of round-headed windows, with a circular one above; a
semicircular arch on its eastern side opens into a chapel. The choir is
also well preserved. These ruins exhibit semicircular with pointed
arches in indiscriminate combination, and during the present century
decay has caused much of them to fall. It was to Llanthony that Walter
Savage Landor removed in 1809, selling much of his family estates in
order to buy it. He projected grand improvements, including the
restoration of the priory, the construction of roads and bridges, and
the cultivation of extensive tracts on the mountainside, so that it
became of note among literary men as the home of one of the most
original of their guild. His biographer tells us that he imported sheep
from Segovia, and applied to Southey and other friends to furnish him
tenants who would introduce improved agricultural methods. The
inhabitants of this remote region were morose and impoverished, and he
wished to reclaim them. To clothe the bare spots on the flanks of the
mountains, he bought two thousand cones of the cedars of Lebanon, each
calculated to produce a hundred seeds, and he often exulted "in the
thought of the million cedar trees which he would thus leave for shelter
and the delight of posterity." But he met the fate of many projectors.
After four years' struggle he became disgusted with Llanthony and its
people: he was in a quarrel with almost everybody, and his genius for
punctiliousness had turned nearly the whole neighborhood against him. He
had sunk his capital in the estate and its improvements, and becoming
embarrassed, it was taken out of his hands and vested in trustees. His
half-built house was pulled down, and the disgusted Landor left England
for the Continent. At Llanthony he composed Latin verses and English
tragedy, but his best literary labor was performed after he left there.
A few miles farther up the valley is Capel-y-Ffyn, where Father Ignatius
within a few years has erected his Anglican monastery. He was Rev. Mr.
Lyne, and came from Norwich, where he was in frequent collision with the
bishop. After much pother and notoriety he took his Protestant monastic
settlement to this nook in the heart of the Black Mountains, where he
and his monks perform their orisons in peace.



We now follow down the Usk, and at its mouth upon the Severn estuary is
Newport, in Monmouthshire, where there are large docks and a
considerable trade. The ruins of Newport Castle stand on the western
bank of the river. In the suburbs is Caerleon, where the Romans long had
the garrison-post of the second Augustan legion. The museum here is
filled with Roman remains, and the amphitheatre, called "King Arthur's
Round Table," is alongside. Proceeding westward about twelve miles along
the shore of the Severn estuary, we come to Penarth Roads in
Glamorganshire, sheltered under a bold headland at the mouths of the Ely
and the Taff, and the flourishing Welsh seaport of Cardiff on the banks
of the latter stream. This is the outport of the Welsh coal and iron
region, and the Marquis of Bute, who is a large landowner here, has done
much to develop its enormous trade, which goes to all parts of the
world. Its name is derived from Caer Taff, the fortress on the river
Taff, and in early times the Welsh established a castle there, but the
present one was of later construction, having been built by Robert
Fitzhamon, the Anglo-Norman conqueror of Glamorgan. It was afterwards
strongly fortified, and here the unfortunate Robert, son of William the
Conqueror, was imprisoned for twenty-eight years by his brother Henry
I., his eyes being put out for his greater security. The tower where he
was confined still stands alongside the entrance gateway, and during his
long captivity we are told that he soothed his weariness by becoming a
poet. The ancient keep remains standing on its circular mound, but the
castle has been restored and modernized by the Marquis of Bute, who
occasionally resides there, and has given it a fine western front
flanked by a massive octagonal tower. The moat is filled up, and, with
the acclivities of the ramparts, is made a public walk and garden. In
the valley of the Taff, a short distance from Cardiff, is the famous
"Rocking Stone," standing on the western brink of a hill called
Coed-pen-maen, or the "Wood of the Stone Summit." It was anciently a
Druids' altar, and with a surface of about one hundred square feet is
only two to three feet thick, so that it contains about two hundred and
fifty cubic feet of stone. It is the rough argillaceous sandstone that
accompanies the coal-measures in this part of Wales, and a moderate
force gives it quite a rocking motion, which can be easily continued
with one hand. It stands nearly in equilibrium upon a pivotal rock
beneath. Two miles from Cardiff is the ancient and straggling village of
Llandaff, which was the seat of the earliest Christian bishopric in
Wales, having been founded in the fourth century. Its cathedral, for a
long time dilapidated, has within a few years been thoroughly restored.
All the valleys in the hilly region tributary to Cardiff are full of
coal and iron, the mining and smelting of which have made enormous
fortunes for their owners and developed a vast industry there within the
present century. About nine miles north of Cardiff is Caerphilly Castle,
which has the most remarkable leaning tower in Britain, it being more
inclined from the perpendicular than any other that is known. It is
about eighty feet high, and leans over a distance of eleven feet. It
rests only on a part of its southern side, and maintains its position
chiefly through the strength of the cement. This castle was built by the
De Clares in the reign of Henry III., and large additions were made to
it by Hugh Despenser, who garrisoned it for Edward II. in order to check
the Welsh. It is a large concentric castle, covering about thirty acres,
having three distinct wards, seven gate-houses, and thirty portcullises.
It was here that Edward II. and his favorites, the Despensers, were
besieged by the queen in 1326. The defence was well conducted, and the
besiegers were greatly annoyed by melted metal thrown down on them from
the walls, which was heated in furnaces still remaining at the foot of
the tower. They made a desperate assault, which was partially
successful, though it ultimately failed; and we are told that while in
the castle they let the red-hot metal run out of the furnaces, and,
throwing water on it from the moat, caused an explosion which tore the
tower from its foundations and left it in its present condition. The
fissures made by the explosion are still visible, and it has stood thus
for over five centuries. The castle ultimately surrendered, the king
having previously escaped. The Despensers were beheaded, and their
castle never regained its ancient splendor.


[Illustration: NORTH DOCK, SWANSEA.]

Journeying westward from Cardiff along the coast of Glamorganshire, upon
the Bristol Channel, we come to the Welsh Bay of Naples, where the
chimneys replace the volcano of Vesuvius as smoke-producers. This is the
Bay of Swansea, a very fine one, extending for several miles in a grand
curve from Porthcawl headland on the eastern verge around to the
Mumbles, where a bold limestone cliff runs far out into the sea and
forms a natural breakwater. Within this magnificent bay, with its wooded
and villa-lined shores, there is a spot that discloses the bare brown
hills guarding the entrance to the valley of the river Tawe, up which
the houses of Swansea climb, with a dense cloud of smoke overhanging
them that is evolved from the smelting-furnaces and collieries behind
the town. Forests of masts appear where the smoke permits them to be
visible, and then to the right hand another gap and overhanging
smoke-cloud marks the valley of the Neath. The ancient Britons called
the place Aber-tawe, from the river, and there are various derivations
of the present name. Some say it came from flocks of swans appearing in
the bay, and others from the porpoises or sea-swine, so that the reader
may take his choice of Swan-sea or Swine-sea. In the twelfth century it
was known as Sweynsey, and perhaps the best authority says the name came
from Sweyne, a Scandinavian who frequented that coast with his ships.
When the Normans invaded Glamorgan, Henry Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick,
captured Swansea, and in the twelfth century built a castle there. King
John gave it a charter, and it became a town of some importance, as he
granted it extensive trading-privileges. In another charter, given by
the lord of the manor in 1305, the first allusion is made to Welsh coal,
for the people among other privileges are allowed to dig "pit-coal in
Ballywasta." Thus began the industry that has become the mainstay of
prosperity in South Wales. Warwick's Castle at Swansea has entirely
disappeared, the present ruins being those of a castle afterwards built
by Henry de Gower, who became Bishop of St. David's. What is left of it
is almost hidden by modern buildings. It has the remains of a
curtain-wall and two towers, the larger of which has an arcade beneath
the battlement--an unusual but pleasing feature. Lewellyn harassed the
town and castle, but it had not much history until the Civil War, when
there was a little fighting for its possession. A Parliamentary ship
appeared in the bay and demanded the surrender of the town, which was
refused; but in the following year the Parliamentary troops captured it.
Subsequently the castle changed hands several times--the guide-book
states "rather politically than gloriously." Cromwell ultimately took
possession in 1648, resided at Swansea for some time as lord of the
manor, and was very liberal to the town. The castle was dismantled and
partly destroyed, the keep being used as a jail. Swansea, like all the
cities in the Welsh coal and metal region, has grown greatly during the
present century. Walter Savage Landor lived here for a while, just when
the copper-works were beginning to appear in the valley of the Tawe.
Their smoke defiled the landscape, and he exclaimed, "Would to God there
was no trade upon earth!" He preferred Swansea Bay above the gulf of
Salerno or of Naples, and wrote, "Give me Swansea for scenery and
climate! If ever it should be my fortune to return to England, I would
pass the remainder of my days in the neighborhood of Swansea, between
that place and the Mumbles."

[Illustration: SWANSEA CASTLE.]

Swansea's earliest dock was made by walling a tidal inlet called Port
Tennant, and is still used. Its former great dock was the North Dock,
constructed in the old bed of the Tawe, a newer and more direct channel
being made for the river. It has two recently-constructed and larger
docks. Up the valley of the Tawe the town spreads several miles, and
here are the enormous copper-works and smelting-furnaces which make a
reproduction of the infernal regions, defile the air, but fill the
purses of the townsfolk. Swansea is the greatest copper-smelting dépôt
in the world, drawing its ores from all parts of the globe. There had
been copper-works on the Neath three centuries ago, but the first upon
the Tawe were established in 1745. From them have grown the fame and
wealth of the Cornish family of the Vivians, who have been
copper-smelters for three generations at Swansea, and in front of the
town-hall stands the statue of the "Copper King," the late John Henry
Vivian, who represented Swansea in Parliament. There are also iron,
zinc, lead, and tin-plate works, making this a great metallurgical
centre, while within forty miles there are over five hundred collieries,
some existing at the very doors of the smelting-works. It is cheap fuel
that has made the fortune of Swansea.

[Illustration: THE MUMBLES.]

The bold promontory of the Mumbles, which bounds Swansea Bay to the
westward, has become a popular watering-place, into which it has
gradually developed from the fishing-village nestling under Oystermouth
Castle. The bay was once a great producer of oysters, and dredging for
them was the chief industry of the inhabitants. The remains of the
castle stand upon a knoll overlooking the sea, and with higher hills
behind. The Duke of Beaufort, to whom it belongs, keeps the ruins
carefully protected, and they are in rather good preservation. The plan
is polygonal, approaching a triangle, with its apex towards the sea,
where was the only entrance, a gateway guarded by two round towers, of
which only the inner face now remains. The interior court is small, with
the keep at the north-eastern angle, having a chapel at the top. There
are some other apartments with vaulted chambers underground. Henry de
Bellamont is believed to have built this fortress at about the time of
the construction of Swansea Castle, but it has not contributed much to
history, though now a picturesque ruin.


On the eastern side of Swansea Bay enters the Vale of Neath, where is
also a manufacturing town of rapid growth, while within the Vale is
beautiful scenery. Neath is of great antiquity, having been the Nidum of
the days of Antoninus. At the Crumlyn Bog, where white lilies blossom on
the site of an ancient lake, legend says is entombed a primitive city,
in proof whereof strains of unearthly music may be occasionally heard
issuing from beneath the waters. In the valley on the western bank of
the river are the extensive ruins of Neath Abbey, said once to have been
the fairest in all Wales. This religious house was founded by Richard de
Granville in the twelfth century, but its present buildings are of later
date. Within its walls Edward II. took refuge when he escaped from
Caerphilly, for it had the privilege of sanctuary; but after leaving
Neath a faithless monk betrayed him, and he was put to death most
cruelly at Berkeley Castle. Only a ruined gateway remains of Neath
Castle, blackened by the smoke of smelting-works.

[Illustration: NEATH ABBEY.]


Proceeding westward along the coast of the jutting peninsula formed by
South Wales, another grand bay indents the shore, and on the bold banks
of the Towy is Caermarthen, which gives the bay its name. Here there was
a Roman station, on the site of which the castle was built, but by whom
is not accurately known. The Parliamentarians captured and dismantled
it, and it has since fallen into almost complete decay, though part was
occupied as a jail till the last century. In Caermarthen Church, Richard
Steele the essayist is buried, while from the parade is a beautiful view
up the Vale of Towy towards Merlin's Hill and Abergwili, which was the
home of that renowned sage. Around the sweeping shores of Caermarthen
Bay, about fifteen miles to the westward, is Tenby Castle, the town, now
a watering-place, being singularly situated on the eastern and southern
sides of a narrow rocky peninsula entirely surrounded by the sea,
excepting to the northward. This was the Welsh "Precipice of Fishes,"
and its castle was strongly fortified. It stood a five days' siege from
Cromwell, and its shattered ruins, with the keep on the summit of the
hill, show a strong fortress. From the top there is a magnificent view
of the neighboring shores and far across the sea to the lofty coasts of
Devonshire. Manorbeer Castle, belonging to Lord Milford, is near Tenby,
and is considered the best structure of its class in Wales. It is the
carefully-preserved home of an old Norman baron, with its church, mill,
dove-house, pond, park, and grove, and "the houses of his vassals at
such distance as to be within call." The buildings have stone roofs,
most of which are perfect, and it has been tenantless, yet carefully
preserved, since the Middle Ages. Parts of it have stood for six
centuries. In the upper portion of the Vale of Towy is the Golden Grove,
a seat of the Earl of Cawdor, a modern Elizabethan structure. Here lived
Jeremy Taylor, having taken refuge there in the Civil War, and he here
wrote some of his greatest works.

Beyond Caermarthenshire is Pembrokeshire, forming the western extremity
of the Welsh peninsula. The river Cleddan, flowing south-westward,
broadens at its mouth into the estuary known as Milford Haven. It
receives a western branch, on the side of which is the county-town,
Haverfordwest, placed on a hill where the De Clares founded a castle, of
which little now remains but the keep, used (as so many of them now are)
as the county-jail. Cromwell demolished this castle after it fell into
his hands. The great promontory of St. David's Head juts out into the
sea sixteen miles to the westward. The Cleddan flows down between the
towns of Pembroke and Milford. The ruins of Pembroke Castle upon a high
rock disclose an enormous circular keep, seventy-five feet high and one
hundred and sixty-three feet in circumference. It was begun in the
eleventh century, and was the birthplace of Henry VII. in 1456. Here
Cromwell was repulsed in 1648, but the fortress was secured for the
Parliament after six weeks' siege. The garrison were reduced to great
straits, but were only subdued by the skilful use of artillery in
battering down the stairway leading to the well where they got their
water: the spring that supplied them is still there. Pembroke has
extensive trade, and its shipbuilding dockyard covers eighty acres.
Opposite this dockyard is Milford, the harbor being a mile and a half
wide. The railway from London runs down to the pier, and passengers are
transferred to steamers for Ireland, this being the terminus of the
Great Western Railway route, two hundred and eighty-five miles from the
metropolis. Milford Haven, at which we close this descriptive journey,
stretches for ten miles inland from the sea, varying from one to two
miles in breadth, affords ample anchorage, and is strongly fortified.
The ancient Pictou Castle guards the junction of the two branches of the
Cleddan above Milford, while Carew Castle stands on a creek entering
Milford Haven on the south-eastern shore, and is an august though ruined
relic of the baronial splendors of the Middle Ages. It well represents
the condition of most of the seacoast castles in this part of Wales, of
one of which Dyer has written.

  "His sides are clothed with waving wood,
  And ancient towers crown his brow.
  That cast an awful look below;
  Whose rugged sides the ivy creeps,
  And with her arms from falling keeps.
  'Tis now the raven's bleak abode;
  'Tis now th' apartment of the toad;
  And there the fox securely feeds.
  And there the poisonous adder breeds,
  Concealed in ruins, moss, and weeds;
  While ever and anon there fall
  Huge heaps of hoary, mouldered wall.
  Yet time has seen, that lifts the low
  And level lays the lofty brow,--
  Has seen this broken pile complete,
  Big with the vanity of state;--
  But transient is the smile of fate."



     Virginia Water--Sunninghill--Ascot--Wokingham--Bearwood--The London
     _Times_--White Horse Hill--Box Tunnel--Salisbury--Salisbury
     Plain--Old Sarum--Stonehenge--Amesbury--Wilton House--The Earls of
     Canynge--Chatterton--Clifton--Brandon Hill--Wells--The
     Mendips--Jocelyn--Beckington--Ralph of Shrewsbury--Thomas Ken--The
     Cheddar Cliffs--The Wookey Hole--The Black Down--The Isle of
     Avelon-Glastonbury--Weary-all Hill--Sedgemoor--The Isle of
     Athelney--Bridgewater--Oldmixon--Monmouth's Rebellion--Weston
     Zoyland--King Alfred--Sherborne--Sir Walter Raleigh--The Coast of
     Dorset--Poole--Wareham--Isle of Purbeck--Corfe Castle--The
     Foreland--Swanage--St. Aldhelm's Head--Weymouth--Portland Isle and
     Bill--The Channel Islands--Jersey--Corbière Promontory--Mount
     Orgueil--Alderney--Guernsey--Castle Cornet--The Southern Coast of
     Regis--Axminster--Sidmouth--Exmouth--Exeter--William, Prince of
     Orange--Exeter Cathedral--Bishop
     Trelawney--Dawlish--Teignmouth--Hope's Nose--Babbicombe Bay--Anstis
     Cove--Torbay--Torquay--Brixham--Dartmoor--The River
     Dart--Totnes--Berry Pomeroy Castle--Dartmouth--The River Plym--The
     Dewerstone--Plympton Priory--Sir Joshua Reynolds--Catwater
     Lighthouse--Tavistock Abbey--Buckland Abbey--Lydford Castle--The
     Northern Coast of Devon--Exmoor--Minehead--Dunster--Dunkery
     Beacon--Porlock Bay--The River Lyn--Oare--Lorna Doone--Jan
     Ridd--Lynton--Lynmouth--Castle Rock--The Devil's Cheese-Ring--Combe
     Peninsula--Falmouth--Pendennis Castle--Helston--Mullyon
     Cove--Smuggling--Kynance Cove--The Post-Office--Old Lizard
     Head--Polpeor--St. Michael's Mount--Penzance--Pilchard
     Fishery--Penwith--Land's End.


Leaving London by the South-western Railway, and skirting along the edge
of Windsor Park, we pass Virginia Water, the largest artificial lake in
England. Upon its bosom float miniature frigates, and its banks are
bordered by a Chinese fishing temple, and a colonnade which was brought
from the African coast near Tunis. Here also are a hermitage overlooking
the lake, and the triangular turreted building known as the Belvedere,
where a battery of guns is kept that was used in the wars of the last
century. Not far beyond is Sunninghill, near which was Pope's early
home, and in the garden of the vicarage are three trees planted by
Burke, Chesterfield, and Bolingbroke. Farther westward is the famous
Ascot race-course on Ascot Heath, where the races are run in June upon
a circular course of about two miles, the neighborhood containing many
handsome villas. Still journeying westward, the route passes Wokingham,
where Gay, Swift, Pope, and Arbuthnot were on one occasion detained at
the Rose Inn in wet weather, and whiled away the time by composing the
song of "Molly Mog."

[Illustration: BEARWOOD.]

Just beyond Wokingham is the fine estate of Bearwood, the seat of John
Walter, Esq., the proprietor of the London _Times_, one of the stately
rural homes of England. Here, in a large and beautiful park which
retains much of its original forest character, and standing upon the
terraced bank of a lovely lake, Bearwood House has within a few years
been entirely rebuilt, its feature being the central picture-gallery
containing a fine collection of paintings, around which clusters a suite
of grand apartments. The estate includes several thousand acres, and in
the many pleasant cottages scattered over it and the homes at Bearwood
village many of the aged and infirm employés of the _Times_ pass their
declining years. The _Times_, which was founded January 1, 1788, by the
grandfather of the present proprietor, has steadily grown in commanding
influence until it occupies the front rank in English journalism and is
the leading newspaper of the kingdom. Its proprietor has recently
entirely rebuilt its publication-offices in Printing-House Square and on
Queen Victoria Street in London, adapting all the modern appliances of
improved machinery and methods to its publication. It is at Bearwood,
however, that his philanthropic ideas also find a broad field of
usefulness in caring for those who have grown gray in the service of the
_Times_, and thither every year go the entire corps of employés to enjoy
an annual picnic under the spreading foliage of the park, while no home
in England is more frequented by Americans or extends to kin from across
sea a more generous hospitality.


In the chalk hills of Berkshire, beyond Reading and north of Hungerford,
there rises an eminence over nine hundred feet high, known as the White
Horse Hill. It is a famous place; upon the summit, covering a dozen
acres, and from which eleven counties can be seen, there is a
magnificent Roman camp, with gates, ditch, and mound as complete as when
the legions left it. To the westward of the hill, and under its shadow,
was the battlefield of Ashdown, where Alfred defeated the Danes and
broke their power in 871. He fought eight other battles against the
Danes that year, but they were mere skirmishes compared with the
decisive victory of Ashdown, and in memory of it he ordered his army to
carve the White Horse on the hillside as the emblem of the standard of
Hengist. It is cut out of the turf, and can be seen to a great distance,
being three hundred and seventy-four feet long. After a spell of bad
weather it gets out of condition, and can only be restored to proper
form by being scoured, this ceremony bringing a large concourse of
people from all the neighboring villages. The festival was held in 1857,
and the old White Horse was then brought back into proper form with much
pomp and great rejoicing. The ancient balladist thus quaintly describes
the festivity on these memorable occasions:

  "The owld White Harse wants zettin to rights, and the squire hev promised
     good cheer,
  Zo we'll gee un a scrape to kip un in zhape, and a'll last for many a
  A was made a lang, lang time ago, wi a good dale o' labor and pains.
  By King Alferd the Great, when he spwiled their consate and caddled[B]
     thay wosbirds[C] the Danes.
  The Bleawin Stwun in days gone by wur King Alferd's bugle harn,
  And the tharnin tree you med plainly zee as is called King Alferd's
  There'll be backsword play, and climmin the powl, and a race for a peg,
     and a cheese.
  And us thenks as hisn's a dummell[D] zowl as dwont care for zich spwoorts
     as theze."

Leaving London by the Great Western Railway, and passing beyond
Berkshire, we cross the boundary into Wiltshire, and go through the
longest railway-tunnel in England, the noted Box Tunnel, which is a
mile and three-quarters in length and cost over $2,500,000 to construct.
It goes through a ridge of great-oolite, from which the valuable
bath-stone is quarried, and the railway ultimately brings us to the
cathedral city that boasts the tallest church-spire in
England--Salisbury, the county-town of Wiltshire, standing in the valley
formed by the confluence of three rivers, the Avon, Bourne, and Wiley.

[Footnote B: caddled, worried.]

[Footnote C: wosbirds, birds of evil omen.]

[Footnote D: dummell, stupid.]



The celebrated cathedral, which in some respects may be considered the
earliest in England, is the chief object at Salisbury, and was founded
by Bishop Poore in 1220. It was the first great church built in the
Early English style, and its spire is among the most imposing Gothic
constructions in existence. The city of Salisbury is unique in having
nothing Roman, Saxon, or Norman in its origin, and in being even without
the remains of a baronial fortress. It is a purely English city, and,
though it was surrounded by walls, they were merely boundaries of the
dominions of the ecclesiastics. The see of Salisbury in 1215 was removed
from Old Sarum to its present location in consequence of the frequent
contests between the clergy and the castellans, and soon afterwards the
construction of the cathedral began. King Henry III. granted the church
a weekly market and an annual fair lasting eight days, and the
symmetrical arrangement of the streets is said to have been caused by
the original laying out of the city in spaces "seven perches each in
length and three in breadth," as the historian tells us. The cathedral
close, which is surrounded by a wall, has four gateways, and the best
view of the cathedral is from the north-eastern side of the close, but a
more distant view--say from a mile away--brings out the proportions of
the universally admired spire to much greater advantage. The chief
cathedral entrance is by the north porch, which is a fine and lofty
structure, lined with a double arcade and having an upper chamber. The
nave is beautiful, though it suffers somewhat in warmth of coloring from
lacking stained glass, and the cloisters, which are entered from the
south-western transept, are admirable, being of later date and
exhibiting a more developed style than the remainder of the cathedral.
Their graceful windows and long gray arcades contrast splendidly with
the greensward of the cloister-garth. They include an octagonal
chapter-house, fifty-eight feet in diameter and fifty-two feet high,
which has been restored in memory of a recent bishop at a cost of
$260,000. The restoration has enriched the house with magnificent
sculptures representing Old-Testament history, and the restoration of
the cathedral is also progressing. The adjoining episcopal palace is an
irregular but picturesque pile of buildings, with a gateway tower that
is a prominent feature.

Salisbury has plenty of old houses, like most English towns, and it also
has a large square market-place, containing the Gothic Poultry Cross, a
most graceful stone structure, and also the council-house of modern
erection, in front of which is a statue of Sidney Herbert. Its ancient
banquet-hall, built four hundred years ago by John Halle, and having a
lofty timber roof and an elaborately-carved oak screen, is now used as
the show-room for a shop.

[Illustration: SALISBURY MARKET.]

To the northward of Salisbury is that region filled with prehistoric
relics known as Salisbury Plain. Here are ancient fortresses, barrows,
and sepulchral mounds, earthworks, dykes, and trenches, roadways of the
Roman and the Briton, and the great British stronghold, guarding the
southern entrance to the plain, which became the Old Sarum of later
times. Until within a century this plain was a solitary and almost
abandoned region, but now there are good roads crossing it and much of
the land is cultivated. It is a great triangular chalk-measure, each
side roughly estimated at twenty miles long. The Bourne, Wiley, and Avon
flow through it to meet near Salisbury, and all the bolder heights
between their valleys are marked by ancient fortifications. Wiltshire is
thus said to be divided between chalk and cheese, for the northern
district beyond the plain is a great dairy region. Let us journey
northward from Salisbury across the plain, and as we enter its southern
border there rises up almost at the edge the conical hill of Old Sarum,
crowned by intrenchments. When they were made is not known, but in 552
they were a British defence against the Saxons, who captured them after
a bitter fight and overran the plain. Five centuries later William the
Norman reviewed his army here, and after the first Domesday survey
summoned all the landholders of England to the number of sixty thousand,
who here swore fealty to him. The Normans strengthened it with a castle,
and soon a cathedral also rose at Old Sarum, while a town grew around
them. But all have disappeared, though now there can be traced the
outlines of streets and houses and the foundations of the old cathedral.
When the clergy removed to Salisbury it is said they determined the new
site by an arrow shot from the ramparts of Old Sarum, and moving the
cathedral soon attracted the people. Old Sarum for some time remained a
strong fortress with many houses, but the cathedral was taken down in
1331 and its materials used for building the famous spire at Salisbury.
The castle decayed, the town was gradually deserted, and as long ago as
the sixteenth century we are told there was not a single house left
there. And such it is to this day. Climbing the steep face of the hill,
the summit is found fenced by a vast earthen rampart and ditch enclosing
twenty-seven acres with an irregular circle, the height from the bottom
of the ditch to the top of the rampart being over one hundred feet. A
smaller inner rampart as high as the outer one made the central citadel.
Nearly all the stone has long ago been carried off to build Salisbury,
and weeds and brushwood have overrun the remarkable fortress that has
come down to us from such venerable antiquity. Under the English
"rotten-borough" system Old Sarum enjoyed the privilege of sending two
members to Parliament for three centuries after it ceased to be
inhabited. The old tree under which the election was held still exists,
and the elder Pitt, who lived near by, was first sent to Parliament as a
representative of Old Sarum's vacant mounds.


A few miles' farther journey to the northward over the hills and
valleys, and among the sheep that also wander on Salisbury Plain, brings
us to that remarkable relic of earlier ages which is probably the
greatest curiosity in England--Stonehenge. When the gigantic stones were
put there, and what for, no man knows. Many are the unanswered questions
asked about them, for the poet says:

  "Thou noblest monument of Albion's isle!
    Whether by Merlin's aid from Scythia's shore
    To Amber's fatal plain Pendragon bore,
  Huge frame of giant hands, the mighty pile,
  To entomb his Britons slain by Hengist's guile:
    Or Druid priests, sprinkled with human gore,
    Taught 'mid thy massy maze their mystic lore;
  Or Danish chiefs, enriched by savage spoil,
    To Victory's idol vast, an unhewn shrine,
  Reared the huge heap; or, in thy hallowed round,
    Repose the kings of Brutus' genuine line;
  Or here those kings in solemn state were crowned;
    Studious to trace thy wondrous origin,
  We muse on many an ancient tale renowned."


Stonehenge is about nine miles north of Salisbury, near the town of
Amesbury, where another ancient camp, known as "The Ramparts," crowns a
wooded hill, around which the Avon flows, the camp enclosing nearly
forty acres. Stonehenge stands in a bleak, bare situation on Salisbury
Plain, and in its original perfection, as nearly as can now be judged,
consisted of two concentric circles and two ellipses of upright stones,
surrounded by a bank and ditch, outside of which is a single upright
stone and traces of a hippodrome. The entrance to the cluster of circles
was from the north-east, and the avenue to it is still traceable by the
banks of earth. The outer circle at Stonehenge originally consisted of
thirty upright stones fixed in the ground at intervals of about three
and a half feet. On the top of them thirty other stones formed a
continuous ring about sixteen feet above the ground. Within this circle,
and leaving a space about nine feet wide between, was another circle of
thirty or forty unhewn stones about four to seven feet high. Within
this, again, was the grandest part of the structure--a great ellipse
formed of five triplets of stones or trilithons, each composed of two
uprights and one placed crosswise. Within these was the inner ellipse of
nineteen obelisks surrounding the altar-stone. Such was Stonehenge
originally, but its ruins now appear very differently, and are only a
confused pile of huge stones, for the most part such as are found on the
neighboring plain and known as sarsens (a siliceous sandstone), though
some of the smaller ones may be boulders brought from a distance. The
diameter of the enclosure is three hundred and thirty-six feet. On the
outer circle sixteen of the uprights and six of the surmounting stones
forming the ring remain in their original positions. Two of the inner
trilithons, the highest rising twenty-five feet, remain perfect, and
there are two single uprights, which lean considerably. The flat slab or
altar-stone is lying on the ground. The avenue of approach opens in
front of the inner ellipse and in a line with the altar-stone. In the
avenue, outside the enclosure, is a block sixteen feet high in a leaning
position, and known as the Friar's Heel. The legend tells us that when
the great Enemy of the human race was raising Stonehenge he muttered to
himself that no one would ever know how it was done. A passing friar,
hearing him, exclaimed, "That's more than thee can tell," and then fled.
The Enemy flung this great stone after him, but hit only the friar's
heel. The investigators of Stonehenge say that when standing on the
altar-stone the midsummer sun is seen to rise to the north-east directly
over the "Friar's Heel." The traces of the avenue in which it stands
are, however, soon found to divide into two smaller avenues, one running
south-east and the other north, and the latter is connected beyond with
a long enclosure called the Cursus, and marked by banks of earth
stretching east and west for about a mile and a half: there is nothing
known of its use. The whole country about Stonehenge is dotted with
groups of sepulchral barrows, and at the western end of the Cursus is a
cluster of them more prominent than the others, and known as the "Seven
Burrows." Stonehenge itself inspires with mystery and awe, the blocks
being gray with lichens and worn by centuries of storms. Reference to
them is found in the earliest chronicles of Britain, and countless
legends are told of their origin and history, they usually being traced
to mythical hands. In James I.'s reign Stonehenge was said to be a Roman
temple, dedicated to Coelus; subsequently, it was attributed to the
Danes, the Phoenicians, the Britons, and the Druids by various
writers. Sir Richard Hoare, who has studied the mystery most closely,
declines all these theories, and says the monument is grand but
"voiceless." Horace Walpole shrewdly observes that whoever examines
Stonehenge attributes it to that class of antiquity of which he is
himself most fond; and thus it remains an insoluble problem to puzzle
the investigator and impress the tourist. Michael Drayton plaintively
and quaintly confesses that no one has yet solved the mystery:

  "Dull heape, that thus thy head above the rest doest reare,
  Precisely yet not know'st who first did place thee there.
  Ill did those mightie men to trust thee with their storie;
  Thou hast forgot their names who rear'd thee for their glorie;
  For all their wondrous cost, thou that hast serv'd them so,
  What 'tis to trust to tombes by thee we easily know."





Returning along the valley of the Avon past the almost lifeless town of
Amesbury, where there formerly was a grand Benedictine monastery long
since gone to decay, we cross over to the Wiley Vale, and at about three
miles distance from Salisbury come to the Earl of Pembroke's seat at
Wilton House. The ancient town of Wilton--or, as it was originally
called, Willytown--stands at the confluence of the rivers Nadder and
Wiley. The Britons established it, and it was one of the capitals of the
West Saxons. It was famous long before the Norman Conquest, and it
afterwards obtained renown from the number and importance of its
monastic establishments, having had no less than twelve parish churches,
though not a trace of its abbey now remains. Henry VIII. dissolved it,
and gave the site and buildings to Sir William Herbert, who was
afterwards created Earl of Pembroke, and from its relics Wilton House
was largely constructed. The town is now chiefly noted as the
manufactory of Axminster and Wilton carpets, dextrously woven by
operatives who use most primitive machinery. The Earl's Park adjoins the
town, and in it is Wilton House, one of the grandest palaces in England,
standing upon the site of the abbey. The buildings were designed by
Holbein, and the garden front being burned in 1648, was rebuilt soon
afterwards, while the entire structure was enlarged and remodelled
during the present century, the cloisters being then added for the
display of the fine collection of sculptures. The plan of the house is a
quadrangle, with a glazed cloister occupying the central square. Within
this cloister and the hall leading to it are the well-known Pembroke
Marbles--statues, busts, urns, vases, bassi-relievi, and fragments of
great value from Grecian and Roman works. This collection was formed
during the last century, being gathered by the then earl from various
sources. In the hall are statues, but its chief interest comes from the
numerous suits of armor with which it is adorned, chiefly memorials of
the battle of St. Quentin, fought in 1557, when the Earl of Pembroke
commanded the British forces. One of the suits was worn by the earl
himself, and two others by the Constable of France and the Duc de
Montpensier, both being taken prisoner. On either side are entrances to
various apartments containing valuable paintings. The chief of these is
the "Family Picture," regarded as Vandyke's masterpiece--seventeen feet
long and eleven feet high, and filling one end of the drawing-room. It
contains ten full-length figures--Philip, Earl of Pembroke, and his
countess and their children. Above them, hovering in the clouds, are
three other children, who died in early life. In the Double Cube-room,
which is regarded as a gem in its way and has a most magnificent
fireplace, there are some thirteen other paintings by Vandyke. Other
paintings by Italian masters are also distributed on the walls of the
various apartments, but the Vandykes are regarded as the gems of the
collection. The library is a large and lofty apartment, with an
oak-panelled ceiling, and a fine collection of volumes with appropriate
furnishing. Out of the library window the western view over the terrace
discloses charming pleasure-grounds, laid out in the Italian style from
designs by a former Countess of Pembroke, while in the background is a
beautiful porch constructed by Holbein. To the gardens, summer-houses
and conservatories add their attractions, while beyond is the valley of
the Nadder, over which a picturesque bridge leads to the park. This
bridge has an Ionic colonnade, and in the park are some of the finest
cedars to be seen in the kingdom. Here, it is said, Sir Philip Sidney
wrote _Arcadia_, and the work shows that he drew much inspiration from
these gardens and grounds, for it abounds in lifelike descriptions of

[Illustration: LIBRARY WINDOW.]

At Wilton also lived George Herbert the poet, and later Sidney Herbert,
who was afterwards made Lord Herbert of Lea, and whose son is now the
thirteenth Earl of Pembroke. A statue of Sidney Herbert has already been
referred to as standing in Pall Mall, London, and another is in
Salisbury. He was secretary of war, yet was the gentle and genial
advocate of peace and charity to all mankind, and his premature death
was regarded as a public calamity. He erected in 1844 the graceful New
Church at Wilton. It was the Earls of Pembroke in the last century who
were chiefly instrumental in bringing the manufacturers of fine carpets
over from France and Flanders and laying the foundation of that trade,
in which England now far surpasses those countries. The factory at
Axminster, on the southern coast, was also afterwards transferred to
Wilton. These carpets are all hand-made, and the higher class, which are
an inch or more in thickness and of the softness of down when trod upon,
are also of the most gorgeous design and brilliancy of colors.


Crossing over the hills to the north-west of Salisbury Plain, we descend
to the attractive valley of another river Avon, and come to the "Queen
of all the Spas in the World," the city of Bath. It is the chief town of
Somersetshire, and is surrounded by an amphitheatre of hills. The abbey
and principal streets are in the valley, while above, on its northern
slope, rise terraces and crescents, tier upon tier, to a height of
nearly eight hundred feet, the most conspicuous being the Royal and the
Lansdowne Crescents. Many of the buildings are handsome, and are
constructed of the white great-oolite, known as bath-stone. To its
waters this famous resort owes its importance, but from an insignificant
place Bath has risen to the highest point of popularity as a fashionable
watering-place and in architectural magnificence through the genius of
Architect Wood and Master-of-Ceremonies Beau Nash. The legendary king
Bladud is said to have first discovered the Bath waters twenty-seven
hundred years ago, and to have built a town there and dedicated the
medicinal springs to Minerva, so that "Bladud's Well" has passed into a
proverb of sparkling inexhaustibility. The Romans, passionately attached
to the luxury of the hot springs, made Bath one of their chief stations,
and here and in the neighborhood the foundations of their extensive
buildings have been traced, with the remains of altars, baths,
tessellated pavements, and ornaments, and few British towns can produce
such a collection of Roman relics. In the height of the Roman power in
the fifth century the city extended nearly three miles along the valley,
and was surrounded by a wall twenty feet high and nine feet thick. Such
a fascinating spot was naturally selected for the foundation of a
religious house at an early period, and we consequently find that the
abbey of Bath was built by King Offa in the eighth century, and
refounded by King Edgar in the tenth century. It existed until the
dissolution in 1539. The church fell into decay in the reign of Henry
VII., and the present abbey-church was then built, being for a long time
unfinished. It has recently been restored. It stands at the southern
extremity of High Street, and is a fine specimen of Perpendicular
Gothic, the plan being a cross, with a tower at the intersection rising
one hundred and sixty-two feet and flanked by octagonal turrets. The
church is two hundred and ten feet long, and has a fan-traced,
stone-vaulted roof seventy-eight feet high, while the western front
contains a magnificent window flanked by turrets carved with angels, who
are ascending and descending, but have, unfortunately, all lost their
heads. The Pump Room, which is one of the chief buildings, is a
classical structure with a Corinthian portico bearing the motto, "Water,
best of elements!" A band plays in the spacious saloon, which also
contains a statue of the genius of Bath, Beau Nash, whose monument is in
the abbey-church. Here the waters, which are the hottest in England,
reaching a temperature of 120°, tumble continually from a
drinking-fountain into a serpentine basin beneath. There are numerous
other baths replete with comforts for the invalid, for this is
essentially a hospital town, and the city also contains many stately
public and private buildings, and its Victoria Park and Sydney Gardens
are beautiful and popular resorts. The wild scenery of the neighborhood
provides myriads of attractive drives and walks, while on top of
Lansdowne Hill, where Beckford is buried, is his tower, one hundred and
fifty feet high and commanding extensive views. The Bath waters, which
are alkaline-sulphurous with a slight proportion of iron, are considered
beneficial for palsy, rheumatism, gout, and scrofulous and cutaneous
affections. The chief spring discharges one hundred and twenty-eight
gallons a minute. While a hundred years ago Bath was at the height of
its celebrity, the German spas have since diverted part of the stream of


It was at Bath that Pitt and Sheridan lived, but its most eccentric
resident was William Beckford, the author of _Vathek_, who came to Bath
from Fonthill, not far from Salisbury. His father, a London alderman,
owned Fonthill, and died in 1770, leaving his son William, aged ten,
with $5,000,000 ready money and $500,000 annual income. He wrote
_Vathek_ in early life after extensive travels, but founded its scenes
and characters upon places and people at Fonthill. He then began
building Fonthill Abbey, shrouding his proceedings in the greatest
mystery and surrounding his estate with a wall twelve feet high and
seven miles long, guarded by _chevaux-de-frise_ to keep out intruders.
The building of the abbey was to him a romance pursued with wild
enthusiasm. So anxious was he to get it finished that he employed relays
of men, working day and night and throughout Sunday, keeping them
liberally supplied with liquor. The first tower was built of wood, four
hundred feet high, to see its effect, and it was then taken down and the
same form put up in wood covered with cement. This fell down, and the
third tower was built of masonry. When the idea of the abbey occurred to
Beckford he was extending a small summer-house, but he was in such a
hurry that he would not remove the summer-house to make a proper
foundation for the tower, but carried it up on the walls already
standing, the work being done in wretched style and chiefly by
semi-drunken men. He employed five hundred men day and night at the
work, and once the torches used set fire to the tower at the top, a
sight that he greatly enjoyed. Beckford lived at the abbey, practically
a hermit, for nearly twenty years, but his fortunes being impaired he
removed to Bath in 1822. Preparatory to selling Fonthill, he opened the
long-sealed place to public exhibition at a guinea a ticket, and sold
seventy-two hundred tickets. Then for thirty-seven days he conducted an
auction-sale of the treasures at Fonthill, charging a half-guinea
admission. He ultimately sold the estate for $1,750,000. In 1825 the
tower, which had been insecurely built, fell with a great crash, and so
frightened the new owner, who was an invalid, that, though unhurt by
the disaster, he died soon afterwards. The estate was again sold and the
abbey taken down, so that now only the foundations can be traced.


Proceeding about twelve miles down the beautiful valley of the Avon, we
come to its junction with the Frome, where is located the ancient city
and port of Bristol, the capital of the west of England. A magnificent
suspension-bridge spans the gorge of the Avon, connecting Bristol with
its suburb of Clifton, and it is believed that the earliest settlements
by the Romans were on the heights of Clifton and the adjoining Brandon
Hill. The Saxons called it Bright-stow, or the "Illustrious City;" from
this the name changed to Bristow, as it was known in the twelfth
century, and Bristold in the reign of Henry III. When the original
owners concluded that it was time to come down from the hills, they
founded the city in the valley at the junction of the two rivers. A
market-cross was erected where the main streets joined, and Bristow
Castle was built at the eastern extremity, where the Avon makes a
right-angled bend. The town was surrounded with walls, and in the
thirteenth century the course of the Frome was diverted in order to make
a longer quay and get more room for buildings. Few traces remain of the
old castle, but portions of the ancient walls can still be seen. In the
fifteenth century the city-walls were described as lofty and massive and
protected by twenty-five embattled towers, some round and some square.
The abbey of St. Augustine was also then flourishing, having been
founded in the twelfth century. Bristol was in the Middle Ages the
second port of England, enjoying lucrative trade with all parts of the
world, and in the fifteenth century a Bristol ship carrying nine hundred
tons was looked upon with awe as a leviathan of the ocean. Sebastian
Cabot, the great explorer, was a native of Bristol, and his expeditions
were fitted out there, and it was Bristol that in 1838 built and sent
out the first English steamer that crossed the Atlantic, the Great
Western. It still enjoys a lucrative trade, and has recently opened new
docks at the mouth of the Avon, seven miles below the city, so that this
venerable port may be considered as renewing its prosperous career. It
has over two hundred thousand population, and in past times had the
honor of being represented in Parliament by Edmund Burke. When ancient
Bristol was in its heyday, Macaulay says the streets were so narrow that
a coach or cart was in danger of getting wedged between the buildings or
falling into the cellars. Therefore, goods were conveyed about the town
almost exclusively in trucks drawn by dogs, and the wealthy inhabitants
exhibited their riches not by riding in gilded carriages, but by
walking about the streets followed by a train of servants in gorgeous
liveries and by keeping tables laden with good cheer. The pomp of
christenings and funerals then far exceeded anything seen in any other
part of England, and the hospitality of the city was widely renowned.
This was especially the case with the banquets given by the guild of
sugar-refiners, where the drink was a rich beverage made of Spanish wine
and known as "Bristol milk." In 1831 the opposition of the Recorder of
Bristol to the Reform Bill resulted in serious riots, causing a great
fire that burned the Mansion House and a large number of other prominent
buildings. The troops suppressed the riots after shooting several
rioters, and four were afterwards hanged and twenty-six transported. The
city has since enjoyed a tranquil history.



Bristol Cathedral was the convent-church of St. Augustine's Abbey, and
was begun in the twelfth century. It formerly consisted only of the
choir and transepts, the nave having been destroyed in the fifteenth
century, but the nave was rebuilt in uniform style with the remainder of
the church in 1876. The cathedral presents a mixture of architectural
styles, and in it are the tombs of the Earls of Berkeley, who were its
benefactors for generations. Among them was Maurice, Lord Berkeley, who
died in 1368 from wounds received at Poictiers. The abbot, John Newland,
or Nail-heart, was also a benefactor of the abbey, and is said to have
erected the magnificent Norman doorway to the west of it leading to the
college green. The most attractive portion of the interior of the
cathedral is the north aisle of the choir, known as the Berkeley Chapel,
a beautiful specimen of Early English style. The side-aisles of the
choir are of the same height as the central aisle, and in the transepts
are monuments to Bishop Butler, author of the _Analogy_, and to Robert
Southey, who was a native of Bristol. This cathedral is not yet
complete, the external ornamentation of the nave and the upper portions
of the western towers being unfinished. Forty-seven bishops have sat
upon the episcopal throne of Bristol. The old market-cross, which stood
for four centuries in Bristol, was removed in the last century, but in
1860 it was replaced by a modern one erected upon the college green. The
church of St. Mary Redcliffe, standing upon a red sandstone rock on the
south side of the Avon, is the finest church in Bristol, and Chatterton
calls it the "Pride of Bristowe and Western Londe." It is an Early
Perpendicular structure, two hundred and thirty-one feet long, with a
steeple rising over two hundred feet, founded in the twelfth century,
but enlarged and rebuilt in the fifteenth century by William Canynge,
who was then described as "the richest merchant of Bristow, and chosen
five times mayor of the said town." He and his wife Joan have their
monuments in the church, and upon his tomb is inscribed the list of his
ships. He entered holy orders in his declining years, and founded a
college at Westbury, whither he retired. It has for many years been the
custom for the mayor and corporation of Bristol to attend this church on
Whitsunday in state, when the pavement is strewn with rushes and the
building decorated with flowers. In the western entrance is suspended a
bone of a large whale, which, according to tradition, is the rib of the
dun cow that anciently supplied Bristol with her milk. Sebastian Cabot,
in all probability, presented the city with this bone after his
discovery of Newfoundland. The chief popular interest in St. Mary
Redcliffe, however, is its connection with Thomas Chatterton, born in a
neighboring street in 1752, the son of a humble schoolmaster, who
ultimately went up to London to write for the booksellers, and there
committed suicide at the early age of seventeen. A monument to this
precocious genius, who claimed to have recovered ancient manuscripts
from the church-archives, stands in the churchyard. Bristol is full of
old and quaint churches and narrow yet picturesque streets, with lofty
gabled timber-houses.


The great gorge of the Avon, five hundred feet deep, is, however, its
most attractive possession. The suspension-bridge, erected by the
munificence of a citizen, spans this gorge at the height of two hundred
and eighty-seven feet, and cost nearly $500,000. It is twelve hundred
and twenty feet long, and has a single span of seven hundred and three
feet crossing the ravine between St. Vincent's Rocks and the Leigh
Woods. Alongside this gorge rises Brandon Hill, which Queen Elizabeth
sold to two citizens of Bristol, who in turn sold it to the city, with a
proviso that the corporation should there "admit the drying of clothes
by the townswomen, as had been accustomed;" and to this day its western
slope is still used as a clothes-drying ground. From this the tradition
arose--which, however, Bristol denounces as a libel--"that the queen
gave the use of this hill to poor freemen's daughters as a dowry,
because she took compassion on the many plain faces which she saw in one
of her visits." Some hot springs issue out of St. Vincent's Rocks, and
these give Clifton fame as a watering-place. A fine pump-house has been
built there, and the waters are said to be useful in pulmonary
complaints. From this beginning large and ornamental suburbs have been
terraced on the rocks and hills above the springs, while on the summit
is an observatory. There is a hermitage cave of great antiquity carved
in the perpendicular face of the rock just above the river, and known as
the "Giant's Hole." The entire neighborhood is full of charming scenery,
and thus the ancient port presents varied attractions, combining
business profit with recreation, while from the hilltops there are
glorious views extending far down Bristol Channel to the dim hills of
South Wales.




Proceeding southward into Somersetshire, we arrive at the cathedral city
of Wells, which is united with Bath in the well-known bishopric of Bath
and Wells, and is considered the most completely representative
ecclesiastical city in England. It gets its name from its numerous
springs, taking their rise from the wells in the Bishop's Garden, where
they form a lake of great beauty, while bright, clear water runs through
various streets of the town. After leaving the edge of the Bristol
Channel the plain of the Somersetshire lowlands is bordered by rocky
uplands, of which the most important is the elevated plateau known as
the Mendip Hills, carved on the outside with winding valleys having
precipitous sides. Wells nestles in a wide grassy basin at the foot of
the Mendips, its entire history being ecclesiastical, and that not very
eventful. It never had a castle, and no defensive works beyond the wall
and moat enclosing the bishop's palace. It seems to have had its origin
from the Romans, who worked lead-mines among the Mendips, but the first
fact actually known about it is that the Saxon king Ina established here
a house of secular canons "near a spring dedicated to St. Andrew." It
grew in importance and privileges until it became a bishopric, there
having been fifteen bishops prior to the Norman Conquest. The double
title of Bishop of Bath and Wells was first assumed in the days of King
Stephen. In looking at the town from a distance two buildings rise
conspicuously--the belfry of St. Cuthbert's Church and the group of
triple towers crowning the cathedral. There are few aggregations of
ecclesiastical buildings in England that surpass those of Wells, with
the attractive gateways and antique houses of the close, the grand
façade of the cathedral, and the episcopal palace with its ruined
banquet-hall and surrounding moat. From the ancient market-square of the
city, stone gateways surmounted by gray towers give access, one to the
close and the other to the enclosure of the palace. Entering the close,
the western front of the cathedral is seen, the most beautiful façade of
its kind in Britain--an exquisite piece of Early English architecture,
with Perpendicular towers and unrivalled sculptures rising tier upon
tier, with architectural accompaniments such as are only to be found at
Chartres or Rheims. The old Saxon cathedral lasted until Bishop
Jocelyn's time in the thirteenth century, when he began a systematic
rebuilding, which was not finished until the days of Bishop Beckington
in the fifteenth century, who completed the gateways and cloisters.
Entering the cathedral, the strange spectacle is at once seen of
singular inverted arches under the central tower, forming a cross of
St. Andrew, to whom the building is dedicated. These arches were
inserted subsequently to the erection of the tower to strengthen its
supports--an ingenious contrivance not without a certain beauty. The
choir is peculiar and beautiful, and produces a wonderful effect, due to
its groups of arches, the Lady Chapel and retro-choir, and the rich
splendors of the stained glass. The chapter-house, north-east of the
northern transept, is built over a crypt, and is octagonal in plan, the
roof supported by a central column, while the crypt beneath has an
additional ring of columns. The cloisters are south of the cathedral,
having three walks, with galleries above the eastern and western walks,
the former being the library. Through the eastern wall of the cloisters
a door leads to a private garden, in which and in the Bishop's Garden
adjoining are the wells that name the city. The most important of these
is St. Andrew's Well, whence a spring issues into a large pool. The
water from the wells falls by two cascades into the surrounding moat,
and a conduit also takes away some of it to supply the town. From the
edge of the pool is the most striking view of the cathedral.



The close is surrounded by various ancient houses, and the embattled
wall with its bastioned towers and moat encloses about fifteen acres.
Here is the gateway known as the "Bishop's Eye," and another called the
"Dean's Eye," the deanery where Henry VII. was entertained in 1497, the
archdeanery, coming down from the thirteenth century, and the beautiful
Chain Gate in the north-east corner that connects the cathedral with the
Vicar's Close. The latter, one of the most peculiar features of Wells,
is a long and narrow court entered through an archway, and having
ancient houses with modernized fittings on either hand. Bishop Ralph of
Shrewsbury erected this close in the fourteenth century, and his
monumental inscription in the cathedral tells us he was a great
sportsman, who "destroyed by hunting all the wild beasts of the great
forest of Cheddar." The moat and wall completely surround the bishop's
palace, and its northern front overhangs the moat, where an oriel
window is pointed out as the room where Bishop Kidder and his wife were
killed by the falling of a stack of chimneys upon their bed, blown down
by the terrible gale of 1703 that swept away the Eddystone Lighthouse.
It was Bishop Ralph who made the walls and moat as a defence against the
monks of Bath, who had threatened to kill him; Bishop Jocelyn built the
palace. Adjoining it is the great banquet-hall, of which only the
northern and western walls remain, in ruins. It was a magnificent hall,
destroyed from mere greed. After the alienation of the monasteries it
fell into the hands of Sir John Gates, who tore it partly down to sell
the materials; but happily, as the antiquarian relates, Gates was
beheaded in 1553 for complicity in Lady Jane Grey's attempt to reach the
throne, and the desecration was stopped. Afterwards, Parliament sold
Wells for a nominal price to Dr. Burgess, and he renewed the spoliation,
but, fortunately again, the Restoration came; he had to give up his
spoils, and died in jail. Thus was the remnant of the ruin saved. It was
in this hall that Whiting, the last abbot of Glastonbury, was condemned,
and hanged on Tor Hill above his own abbey. The great bishops of Wells
were the episcopal Nimrod Ralph, and Beckington, who left his mark so
strongly on the cathedral and town. He was a weaver's son, born at the
village of Beckington, near the town of Frome, and from it got his name.
Hadrian de Castello, who had a romantic history, became Bishop of Wells
in 1504. Pope Alexander VI. made him a cardinal, and afterwards tried to
poison him with some others at a banquet; by mistake the pope himself
drank of the poisoned wine, and died. The bishop afterwards entered
into a conspiracy against Leo X., but, being detected, escaped from Rome
in disguise and disappeared. Wolsey was Bishop of Wells at one time, but
the most illustrious prelate who held the see after the Reformation was
Thomas Ken. He was educated at Winchester, and afterwards became a
prebend of the cathedral there. Charles II. paid a visit to Winchester,
and, bringing Nell Gwynne with him, Ken was asked to allow her to occupy
his house. He flatly refused, which had just the opposite effect upon
the king to that which would be supposed, for he actually respected Ken
for it, and when the see of Wells became vacant he offered it to "the
little fellow who would not give poor Nelly a lodging." Ken attended the
king's deathbed shortly afterwards. He was very popular in the diocese,
and after the Sedgemoor battle he succored the fugitives, and with the
Bishop of Ely gave spiritual consolation to the unfortunate Duke of
Monmouth on the scaffold. Ken was one of the six bishops committed by
James II. to the Tower, but, strangely enough, he declined to take the
oaths of allegiance to William III., and, being deprived of preferment,
retired to the home of his nephew, Izaak Walton. All reverence his
sanctity and courage, and admire his morning and evening hymns, written
in a summer-house in the Bishop's Garden.


[Illustration: HIGH ROCKS AT CHEDDAR.]

The Mendip Hills, with their picturesque gorges and winding valleys,
were formerly a royal forest. It was here that King Edmund was hunting
the red deer when his horse took fright and galloped towards the brow of
the highest part of the Cheddar Cliffs. Shortly before, the king had
quarrelled with Dunstan, and expelled the holy man from his court. As
the horse galloped with him to destruction, he vowed if preserved to
make amends. The horse halted on the brink as if checked by an unseen
hand, and the king immediately sought Dunstan and made him abbot of
Glastonbury. These hills were the haunt of the fiercest wild beasts in
England, and their caves still furnish relics of lions to a larger
extent than any other part of the kingdom. The most remarkable deposit
of these bones is in the Wookey Hole, on the southern edge of the
Mendips, about two miles from Wells. At the head of a short and
picturesque glen, beneath an ivy-festooned cliff, is a cavern whence the
river Axe issues and flows down the glen. The cave that disclosed the
animal bones is on the left bank of the glen, and was but recently
discovered in making a mill-race. It also contained about three hundred
old Roman coins, rude flint implements, and skeletons of a mammoth and
woolly rhinoceros. The larger cave, which is hung with fine stalactites,
can be explored for some distance. Near the entrance is a mass of rock
known as the Witch of Wookey, who was turned into stone there by a
timely prayer from a monk who opportunely arrived from Glastonbury. The
underground course of the Axe in and beyond this cave is traced for at
least two miles. The Mendips contain other pretty glens and gorges, and
from the summit of their cliffs can be seen the valley of the Axe
winding away southward, while to the westward the scene broadens into
the level plains that border the Bristol Channel, guarded on either side
by the hills of Exmoor and of Wales. Little villages cluster around the
bases of the hills, the most noted being Cheddar, famous for its cheese,
straggling about the entrance to a gorge in which caves are numerous,
each closed by a door, where an admission-fee is charged. Some of them
are lighted with gas and entered upon paved paths. Lead-and zinc-mines
are worked in the glens, and above Cheddar rises the Black Down to a
height of eleven hundred feet, the most elevated summit of the Mendips.


About six miles south-west of Wells is the ancient Isle of Avelon, where
St. Patrick is said to have spent the closing years of his life, and
where are the ruins of one of the earliest and most extensive religious
houses in England--Glastonbury Abbey. A sixpence is charged to visit the
ruins, which adjoin the chief street, but the remnants of the vast
church, that was nearly six hundred feet long, are scanty. Of the
attendant buildings there only remain the abbot's kitchen and an
adjoining gateway, now converted into an inn. This kitchen is about
thirty-four feet square within the walls and seventy-two feet high. The
church ruins include some of the walls and tower-foundations, with a
well-preserved and exceedingly rich chapel dedicated to St. Joseph. On
the High Street is the old George Inn, which was the hostelrie for the
pilgrims, built in the reign of Edward IV. and still used. It is fronted
by a splendid mass of panelling, and the central gateway has a
bay-window alongside rising the entire height of the house. The church
of St. John the Baptist in Glastonbury has a fine tower, elevated one
hundred and forty feet and richly adorned with canopied niches, being
crowned by an open-work parapet and slender pinnacles. Almost the entire
town of Glastonbury is either constructed from spoils of the abbey or
else is made up of parts of its buildings. One of the most
characteristic of the preserved buildings is the Tribunal, now a suite
of lawyers' offices. Its deeply-recessed lower windows and the oriel
above have a venerable appearance, while beyond rises the tower of St.
John the Baptist. Behind the town is the "Weary-all Hill," from which
arose the foundation of the monastery. Tradition tells that Joseph of
Arimathea, toiling up the steep ascent, drove his thorn staff into the
ground and said to his followers that they would rest there. The thorn
budded, and still flowers, it is said, in winter. This was regarded as
an omen, and they constructed the abbey there around the chapel of St.
Joseph. The ponderous abbot's kitchen, we are told, was built by the
last abbot, who boasted, when Henry VIII. threatened to burn the
monastery, that he would have a kitchen that all the wood in Mendip
Forest could not burn down. King Arthur was buried at Glastonbury, and a
veracious historian in the twelfth century wrote that he was present at
the disinterment of the remains of the king and his wife. "The shin-bone
of the king," he says, "when placed side by side with that of a tall
man, reached three fingers above his knee, and his skull was fearfully
wounded." The remains of King Arthur's wife, which were quite perfect,
fell into dust upon exposure to the air.



Proceeding westward towards the Bristol Channel, the low and marshy
plain of Sedgemoor is reached. Much of it is reclaimed from the sea, and
here and there the surface is broken by isolated knolls, there being
some two hundred square miles of this region, with the range of Polden
Hills extending through it and rising in some places three hundred feet
high. In earlier times this was an exact reproduction of the
Cambridgeshire fenland, and then, we are told,

  "The flood of the Severn Sea flowed over half the plain,
  And a hundred capes, with huts and trees, above the flood remain;
  'Tis water here and water there, and the lordly Parrett's way
  Hath never a trace on its pathless face, as in the former day."

It is changed now, being thoroughly drained, but in the days of the
Saxons the river Parrett was the frontier of Wessex, and one of its
districts sheltered Alfred from the first onset of the Danish invasion
when he retreated to the fastnesses of the Isle of Athelney. In the
epoch of the Normans and in the Civil War there was fighting all along
the Parrett. After the defeat at Naseby the Royalists, under Lord
Goring, on July 10, 1645, met their foes on the bank of the Parrett,
near Langport, were defeated and put to flight, losing fourteen thousand
prisoners, and the king's troops never made a stand afterwards.
Bridgwater is a quiet town of about twelve thousand people on the
Parrett, a half dozen miles from the sea, and in its churchyard reposes
Oldmixon, who was made collector of customs here as a reward for his
abusive writings, in the course of which he virulently attacked Pope.
The poet retorted by giving Oldmixon a prominent place in the _Dunciad_,
where at a diving-match in the putrid waters of Fleet Ditch, which
"rolls the large tribute of dead dogs to the Thames," the heroes are
bidden to "prove who best can dash through thick and thin, and who the
most in love of dirt excel." And thus the Bridgwater collector:

  "In naked majesty Oldmixon stands,
  And Milo-like surveys his arms and hands,
  Then sighing thus, 'And am I now threescore?
  And why ye gods should two and two make four?'
  He said, and climbed a stranded lighter's height.
  Shot to the black abyss, and plunged downright."

In the Market Inn at Bridgwater Admiral Blake was born, who never held a
naval command until past the age of fifty, and then triumphed over the
Dutch and the Spaniards, disputing Van Tromp's right to hoist a broom at
his masthead, and burned the Spanish fleet in the harbor of Santa Cruz.
He was buried in Westminster Abbey, but Charles II. ejected his bones.
Bridgwater is now chiefly noted for its bath bricks, made of a mixture
of clay and sand deposited near there by the tidal currents.



It was from the Bridgwater church tower that the unfortunate son of
Charles II. and Lucy Walters, who had been proclaimed "King Monmouth,"
looked out upon the grassy plains towards the eastward before venturing
the last contest for the kingdom. This view is over Sedgemoor, the scene
of the last fight deserving the name of a battle that has been fought on
British ground. It is a long tract of morass lying between the foot of
the Polden Hills and the Parrett River, but with a fringe of somewhat
higher ground along the latter, where are Weston Zoyland, Chedzoy, and
Middlezoy, each a hamlet clustering around its old church, that at
Weston Zoyland being surmounted by an attractive square tower over one
hundred feet high. Monmouth had been proclaimed king by the mayor and
corporation of Bridgwater June 21, 1685, but had been checked at Bath,
and fell back again to Bridgwater, where his army was encamped on the
Castle Field. He had been three weeks in the kingdom without marked
success, and the royal army was closing in upon him. Four thousand
troops under Lord Feversham marched westward, and on the Sunday evening
of July 5th, when Monmouth looked out from the tower, had encamped upon
Sedgemoor about three miles from Bridgwater. Monmouth had seven thousand
men to oppose them, but his forces were mostly undisciplined and badly
armed, some having only scythes fastened on poles. The moor was then
partly reclaimed and intersected by trenches, and Feversham's
headquarters was at Weston Zoyland, where the royal cavalry were
encamped, with the other troops at Middlezoy and Chedzoy beyond.
Monmouth saw that their divisions were somewhat separated, and that his
only hope was a night-attack. At midnight he started, marching his army
by a circuitous route to the royal camp, strict silence being observed
and not a drum beaten or a shot fired. Three ditches had to be crossed
to reach the camp, two of which Monmouth knew of, but he was
unfortunately ignorant of the third, called the Bussex Rhine, behind
which the camp had been made. A fog came down over the moor; the first
ditch was crossed successfully, but the guide missing his way caused
some confusion before the second was reached, during which a pistol was
discharged that aroused a sentinel, who rode off and gave the alarm. As
the royal drums beat to arms Monmouth rapidly advanced, when he suddenly
found himself checked by the Bussex Rhine, behind which the royal army
was forming in line of battle in the fog. "For whom are you?" demanded a
royal officer. "For the king," replied a voice from the rebel cavalry.
"For what king?" was demanded. The answer was a shout for "King
Monmouth," mingled with Cromwell's old war-cry of "God with us!"
Immediately the royal troops replied with a terrific volley of musketry
that sent the rebel cavalry flying in all directions. Monmouth, then
coming up with the infantry, was startled to find the broad ditch in
front of him. His troops halted on the edge, and for three quarters of
an hour the opposing forces fired volleys at each other across the
ditch. But the end was not far off. John Churchill was a subordinate in
the royal army and formed its line of battle, thus indicating the future
triumphs of the Duke of Marlborough. Then the royal cavalry came up, and
in a few minutes the rebels were routed, and Monmouth, seeing all was
lost, rode from the field. His foot-soldiers, with their scythes and
butt-ends of muskets, made a gallant stand, fighting like old soldiers,
though their ammunition was all gone. To conquer them the artillery were
brought up, for which service the Bishop of Winchester loaned his
coach-horses. The cannon were ill served, but routed the rebels, and
then the infantry poured over the ditch and put them to flight. The king
lost three hundred killed and wounded; the rebel loss was at least a
thousand slain, while there was little mercy for the survivors. The sun
rose over a field of carnage, with the king's cavalry hacking and hewing
among their fleeing foes. Monmouth, with one or two followers, was by
this time far away among the hills, but was afterwards captured in the
New Forest, and ended his life on the scaffold. The Sedgemoor carnage
went on all the morning; the fugitives poured into Bridgwater with the
pursuers at their heels; five hundred prisoners were crowded into Weston
Zoyland Church, and the next day a long row of gibbets appeared on the
road between the town and the church. Bridgwater suffered under a reign
of terror from Colonel Kirke and his "Lambs," who put a hundred
prisoners to death during the week following the battle, and treated the
others with great cruelty. Then Judge Jeffreys came there to execute
judicial tortures, and by his harsh and terrible administration of the
law, and his horrible cruelties and injustice, gained the reputation
that has ever since been execrated.

Six miles south-east of Bridgwater is the Isle of Athelney, a peninsula
in the marsh between the Parrett and the Tone. Here King Alfred sought
refuge from the Danes until he could get time to mature the plans that
ultimately drove them from his kingdom. It was while here that the
incident of the burned cakes occurred. The king was disguised as a
peasant, and, living in a swineherd's cottage, performed various menial
offices. The good wife left him in charge of some cakes that were
baking, with instructions to turn them at the proper time. His mind
wandered in thought and he forgot his trust. The good wife returned,
found the cakes burning, and the guest dreaming by the fireside; she
lost her temper, and expressed a decided opinion about the lazy lout who
was ready enough to eat, but less ready to work. In the seventeenth
century there was found in the marshes here a jewel that Alfred had
lost: it is of gold and enamel, bearing words signifying, "Alfred had me
wrought." The following spring (878) he sallied forth, defeated the
Danes in Wiltshire, and captured their king Guthram, who was afterwards
baptized near Athelney by the name of Æthelstan; they still show his
baptismal font in Aller Church, near by.

[Illustration: THE ISLE OF ATHELNEY.]


[Illustration: SHERBORNE.]

Crossing over from Somersetshire into Dorsetshire, we arrive in the
northern part of that county at Sherborne, which was one of the earliest
religious establishments in this part of England, having been founded by
King Ina in the eighth century. Here was the see that was removed to Old
Sarum in the eleventh century, and subsequently to Salisbury. After the
removal, Sherborne became an abbey, and its remains are to be seen in
the parish church, which still exists, of Norman architecture, and
having a low central tower supported by massive piers. The porch is
almost all that survives of the original structure, the remainder having
been burned in 1436, but afterwards restored. Within this church are
buried the Saxon kings, Æthelbald and Æthelbert, the brothers of King
Alfred. Such of the domestic buildings of the abbey as have been
preserved are now the well-known Sherborne Grammar-School. The great
bell of the abbey was given it by Cardinal Wolsey, and weighed sixty
thousand pounds. It bears this motto:

  "By Wolsey's gift I measure time for all;
  To mirth, to grief, to church, I serve to call."

It was unfortunately cracked in 1858, but has been recast. The chief
fame of Sherborne, however, is as the home of Sir Walter Raleigh, of
whom Napier says that his "fortunes were alike remarkable for enviable
success and pitiable reverses. Raised to eminent station through the
favor of the greatest female sovereign of England, he perished on the
scaffold through the dislike and cowardly policy of the meanest of her
kings." The original castle of Sherborne was built in the reign of Henry
I., and its owner bestowed it upon the bishopric of Old Sarum with
certain lands, accompanying the gift with a perpetual curse "that
whosoever should take these lands from the bishopric, or diminish them
in great or small, should be accursed, not only in this world, but in
the world to come, unless in his lifetime he made restitution thereof."
Herein tradition says was the seed of Raleigh's misfortunes. King
Stephen dispossessed the lands, and gave them to the Montagues, who met
with grievous disasters, the estate ultimately reverting to the Church.
In Edward VI.'s reign Sherborne was conveyed to the Duke of Somerset,
but he was beheaded. Again they reverted to the Church, until one day
Raleigh, journeying from Plymouth to London, the ancient historian says,
"the castle being right in the way, he cast such an eye upon it as Ahab
did upon Naboth's vineyard, and once, above the rest, being talking of
it, of the commodiousness of the place, and of the great strength of the
seat, and how easily it might be got from the bishopric, suddenly over
and over came his horse, that his very face (which was then thought a
very good one) ploughed up the earth where he fell. This fall was
ominous, and no question he was apt to consider it so." But Raleigh did
not falter, notwithstanding the omen. He begged and obtained the grant
of the castle from Queen Elizabeth, and then married Elizabeth
Throgmorton and returned there, building himself a new house surrounded
by ornamental gardens and orchards. He settled the estate ultimately
upon his son, but his enemies got King James to take it away and give it
to a young Scotch favorite, Robert Carr, afterwards Earl of Somerset.
Lady Raleigh upon her knees, with her children, appealed to James not to
do this, but it was of no avail. The king only answered, "I mun have the
land; I mun have it for Carr." She was a woman of high spirit, and while
still on her knees she prayed God to punish those who had wrongfully
exposed her and her children to ruin. Carr met with constant
misfortunes, being ultimately implicated in a murder and imprisoned.
James's son Charles, afterwards king, aided to bring Raleigh to the
block, while the widow had the satisfaction of living long enough to be
assured that Charles would meet the same fate. The remains of the
castle are at the east end of Sherborne, covering about four acres on a
rocky eminence surrounded by a ditch. The gate-tower and portions of the
walls and buildings still exist. The house that Raleigh built is now
called the "Castle," and has since had extensive wings added to it, with
a fine lake between it and the old castle-ruins, surrounded by
attractive pleasure-grounds and a park. This famous estate fell into
possession of the Earl of Digby, and is now a home of G. D. Wingfield
Digby, Esq., being a popular resort in the hunting-season.


The river Avon upon which Salisbury stands--for there are several of
these Avon Rivers in England--flows southward between Dorsetshire and
Hampshire, and falls into the Channel. Westward from its mouth extends a
line of sandy cliffs, broken by occasional ravines or chines, past
Bournemouth to Poole Harbor, a broad estuary surrounded by low hills
which is protected by a high ridge of chalk rocks on its south-western
side running out into the sea. The sleepy town of Poole stands on the
shore, having dim recollections of its ships and commerce of centuries
ago. It was a nursery for privateersmen, and many are the exploits
recorded of them. It was also, from the intricacy of its creeks and the
roving character of its people, a notorious place for smuggling. Poole
is an old-fashioned, brick-built town, with a picturesque gateway yet
remaining as a specimen of its ancient defences. In the vale of the
Stour, which here debouches, is the ancient minster of Wimborne, founded
in the reign of King Ina by his sister, and containing the grave of the
Saxon king Æthelred. It is not remarkable excepting for its age, and for
having had for its dean Reginald Pole before he became a cardinal. The
ancient and shrunken town of Wareham is also near by, having had quite a
military history, but being almost destroyed by fire in 1762, from which
it never recovered. It has now but three churches out of the eight it
originally possessed, and of these only one is in regular use. But the
great memory of this part of the coast is connected with Corfe Castle.

[Illustration: CORFE CASTLE.]

The so-called Isle of Purbeck is near Poole Harbor, and the ruined
castle of Corfe stands in a narrow gap in the hills, guarding the
entrance to the southern part of this island, its name being derived
from _ceorfan_, meaning "to cut," so that it refers to the cut or gap in
the hills. Queen Ælfrida in the tenth century had a hunting-lodge here.
According to the legend, her stepson, King Edward, was hunting in the
neighborhood and stopped at the door to ask for a drink. It was brought,
and as he raised the cup to his lips he was stabbed in the back--it is
said by the queen's own hand. He put spurs to his horse, galloped off,
fell, and was dragged along the road, the battered corpse being buried
at Wareham. The queen had committed this murder for the benefit of her
youngest son, and hearing him bewail his brother's death, she flew into
a passion, and, no cudgel being at hand, belabored him so stoutly with a
large wax candle that he could never afterwards bear the sight of one.
The king's remains were then translated to Shaftesbury, miracles were
wrought, and the queen, finding affairs becoming serious, founded two
nunneries in expiation of the murder, to one of which she retired. This
began the fame of the Isle of Purbeck, although the present Corfe Castle
was not built till the twelfth century. It was attacked by, but baffled,
Stephen, and King John used it as a royal residence, prison, and
treasure-house. Here he starved to death twenty-two French knights who
had been partisans of his nephew Arthur; and he also hanged a hermit
named Peter who had made rash prophecies of his downfall, this being
intended as a wholesome warning to other unwelcome prophets. Its
subsequent history was uneventful until the Civil War, when it was
greatly enlarged and strengthened, occupying the upper part of the hill
overlooking the village. Now it is ruined in every part: the
entrance-gateway leans over and is insecure, the walls are rent, and the
towers shattered, while the keep is but a broken shell, with one side
entirely gone. This destruction was done in the Civil War, when Corfe
was held for King Charles. In 1643, when the owner, Sir John Bankes, was
absent, the castle was attacked, and his lady hastily collected the
tenantry and some provisions and made the best defence she could. The
besiegers melted down the roof of the village church for bullets, and
approached the castle-walls under cover of two pent-houses called,
respectively, "the Boar" and "the Sow." So galling a fire, however, was
kept up by the defenders that they were driven off, and their commander
with difficulty rallied them for another attack, being well fortified
with "Dutch courage." This time the brave little garrison, even the
women and children taking part, hurled down upon them hot embers,
paving-stones, and whatever else came handiest, and again drove them off
when the effect of the liquor was spent; then, the king's forces coming
to the rescue, they decamped. But the fortunes of Charles waned: he was
defeated at Naseby, Sir John Bankes died, and Corfe was the only
stronghold left him between London and Exeter. Again it was attacked,
and, through treachery, captured. It was afterwards dismantled and blown
up by gunpowder, while its heroic defender, Lady Bankes, was deprived of
her dowry as penalty for her "malignity." She received it again,
however, and had the satisfaction of living until after the Restoration.


Beyond the range of chalk-cliffs that here cross Dorsetshire the coast
runs several miles southward from Poole Harbor, the promontory of the
Foreland protruding into the sea and dividing the shore into two bays.
The northern one is Studland Bay, alongside which is the singular rock
of the Agglestone. The devil, we are told, was sitting one day upon one
of the Needles off the neighboring coast of the Isle of Wight, looking
about him to see what the world was doing, when he espied the towers of
Corfe Castle just rising towards completion; he seized a huge rock and
hurled it at the castle, but it fell short, and remains to this day upon
the moor. Nestling under the slopes of this moor, in a ravine leading
down to the shore, is Studland village, with its little Norman church
embosomed in foliage and surrounded by ancient gravestones and memorial
crosses. South of the Foreland, and protected by the chalk range from
the northern blasts, is Swanage Bay, bordered by its little town, which
in past times has been variously called Swanwich, Sandwich, and Swanage.
It is a quiet watering-place at the east end of Purbeck Isle, landlocked
from every rough wind, a pleasant spot for summer sea-bathing, with
huge elms growing on its beach and garden-flowers basking in the
sunshine. The Purbeck marble, which was so extensively used for
church-building a few centuries ago, and which may be seen in
Westminster Abbey, Canterbury, Salisbury, Ely, and other cathedrals, was
quarried here, though other quarries of it exist in Britain. It is an
aggregate of freshwater shells, which polishes handsomely, but is liable
to crumble, and has in later years been generally superseded by other
building-stone. The coast southward is lined with quarries, and the
lofty promontory of St. Aldhelm's Head projects into the sea, a
conspicuous headland seen from afar. It was named for the first Bishop
of Sherborne, and its summit rises nearly five hundred feet, being
crowned by an ancient chapel, where in former days a priest trimmed the
beacon-light and prayed for the mariners' safety. This cliff exhibits
sections of Portland stone, and the view is unusually fine, the entire
coast displaying vast walls of cream-colored limestone. These rocks
extend westward past Encombe, where Chancellor Eldon closed his life,
and the Vale of Kimmeridge, where they dig a dark blue clay, and
Worbarrow Bay, with its amphitheatre of crags composed of Portland stone
and breached here and there to form the gateways into interior coves.
Here are the Barndoor Cove, entered through a natural archway; the
Man-of-War Cove, its guardian rock representing a vessel; and Lulworth
Cove, with its castle-ruins, most of which have been worked into the
modern structure near by where the exiled French king, Charles X., once

[Illustration: ST. ALDHELM'S HEAD.]


The coast next sweeps around to the southward, forming the broad expanse
of Weymouth Bay, with the precipitous headland of the White Nore on the
one hand, and the crags of Portland Isle spreading on the other far out
to sea, with the breakwater extending to the northward enclosing the bay
and making a harbor under the lee of which vast fleets can anchor in
safety. Weymouth is a popular watering-place and the point of departure
for steamers for the Channel Islands, and it was George III.'s favorite
resort. He had a house there, and on the cliffs behind the town an
ingenious soldier, by cutting away the turf and exposing the white chalk
beneath, has made a gigantic figure of the king on horseback, of clever
execution and said to be a good likeness. Weymouth has a steamboat-pier
and an attractive esplanade, and on the cliffs west of the town and
overlooking the sea are the ruins of Sandsfoot Castle, erected for
coast-defence by Henry VIII. They are of little interest, however, and
south of them is the estuary of the Fleet, which divides Portland Isle
from the mainland, but these are linked together by the Chesil Bank, a
huge mound of pebbles forming a natural breakwater. At the lower end it
is an embankment forty feet high, composed of large pebbles, some
reaching a foot in diameter. As it stretches northward it decreases
gradually in height and in the size of its pebbles, till it becomes a
low shingly beach. To this great natural embankment the value of
Portland Harbor is chiefly due, and many are the theories to account for
its formation. Near the estuary of the Fleet is Abbotsbury, where are
the ruins of an ancient church and the Earl of Ilchester's famous
swannery, where he has twelve hundred swans.

[Illustration: PORTLAND ISLE.]

The Isle of Portland, thus strangely linked to the mainland, is an
elevated limestone plateau guarded on all sides by steep cliffs and
about nine miles in circumference. Not far from the end of the Chesil
Bank is Portland Castle, another coast-defence erected by Henry VIII.
Near by, on the western slope, is the village of Chesilton. The highest
part of the isle is Verne Hill, four hundred and ninety-five feet high,
where there is a strong fort with casemated barracks that can
accommodate three thousand men. Other works also defend the island,
which is regarded of great strategic importance, and in the neighborhood
are the famous quarries whence the Portland stone has been excavated for
two centuries. The most esteemed is the hard, pale, cream-colored
oolite, which was introduced to the notice of London by Inigo Jones,
and has been popular ever since. With it have been built St. Paul's
Cathedral, Somerset House, the towers of Westminster Abbey, and
Whitehall, with other London buildings. Here also was quarried the stone
for the great breakwater, of which the late Prince Consort deposited the
first stone in 1849, and the Prince of Wales the last one in 1872,
making the largest artificial harbor in the world. The first portion of
this breakwater runs east from the shore eighteen hundred feet. There is
an opening four hundred feet wide, and the outer breakwater thence
extends north-east six thousand feet, terminated by a strong circular
fort guarding the harbor entrance. It cost over $5,000,000, and about
one thousand convicts were employed in its construction, which took
nearly six million tons of stone. The materials, quarried and laden on
cars by the convicts, were sent down an inclined plane and out to the
appointed place, where they were emptied into the sea. The prison of the
convicts is on the east side of the island adjoining the quarries, and
is almost a town of itself, having twenty-five hundred inmates. The
prison-garb is blue and white stripes in summer, and a brownish-gray
jacket and oilskin cap in winter. The convicts have built their own
chapels and schools, and on the Cove of Church Hope near by are the
ruins of Bow and Arrow Castle, constructed by William Rufus on a cliff
overhanging the sea, and also a modern building known as Pennsylvania
Castle, built by William Penn's grandson in a sheltered nook. The views
here are of great beauty, while at the southern end of the promontory is
the castellated mass of rocks projecting far into the sea, and
supporting two lighthouses, known as the Portland Bill. Below is the
dangerous surf called the Race of Portland, where the tide flows with
unusual swiftness, and in the bordering cliffs are many romantic caves
where the restless waves make a constant plashing.



From the harbor of Portland we will make a steamer-excursion almost
across the English Channel, going about one hundred and fifteen miles to
the Channel Islands, off the north-western coast of France and within a
few miles of the shores of Normandy and Brittany. They are Jersey,
Guernsey, Alderney, and Sark, standing in a picturesque situation, with
a mild climate and fertile soil, and devoted mainly to dairying and to
fishing. These islands were known to the Romans, and their strategic
position is so valuable that England, while getting but $100,000 revenue
from them, has expended two or three millions annually in maintaining
their fortifications. It was upon the dangerous cluster of rocks west of
Alderney, and known as the Caskets, that Henry I.'s only son, Prince
William, perished in the twelfth century, and here the man-of-war
Victory was lost with eleven hundred men in 1744. Jersey is the most
remarkable of these islands for its castles and forts, and has seen many
fierce attacks. Both Henry VII. and Charles II. when in exile found
refuge in Jersey. In approaching this island the fantastic outline of
the Corbière Promontory on the western side is striking. When first seen
through the morning haze it resembles a huge elephant supporting an
embattled tower, but the apparition vanishes on closer approach. A
lighthouse crowns the rock, and the bay of St. Aubin spreads a grand
crescent of smiling shores, in the centre of which is Elizabeth Castle,
standing on a lofty insulated rock whose jagged pinnacles are reared in
grotesque array around the battlements. Within the bay is a safe harbor,
with the villages of St. Helier and St. Aubin on the shores. Here is the
hermitage once occupied by Jersey's patron saint Elericus, and an abbey
dedicated to him anciently occupied the site of the castle. The
impregnable works of the great Regent Fort are upon a precipitous hill
commanding the harbor and castle. Upon the eastern side of the island is
another huge fortress, called the castle of Mont Orgueil, upon a lofty
conical rock forming the northern headland of Grouville Bay. The apex of
the mountain shoots up in the centre of the fortifications as high as
the flagstaff which is planted upon them. Here lived Charles II. when in
exile, and this is the most interesting part of Jersey, historically. A
part of the fortifications is said to date from Cæsar's incursion into
Gaul, and the Romans in honor of their leader called the island Cæsarea,
describing it at that time as a stronghold of the Druids, of whose
worship many monuments remain. It was first attached to the British
Crown at the Norman Conquest, and, though the French in the many wars
since then have sent frequent expeditions against the island, they have
never been able to hold it. The Channel Islands altogether cover about
seventy-five square miles. Alderney, which is within seven miles of the
French coast, now has an extensive harbor of refuge. Guernsey contains
the remains of two Norman castles--one almost entirely gone, and the
other called Ivy Castle, from its ruins being mantled with shrubbery.
Its great defensive work, Fort George, built in the last century, stands
in a commanding position and is of enormous strength. Upon a rocky islet
off St. Peter's Port is the chief defensive fort of that harbor, located
about a mile to seaward--Castle Cornet, a work of venerable antiquity,
parts of which were built by the Romans. In 1672, Viscount Christopher
Hatton was governor of Guernsey, and was blown up with his family in
Castle Cornet, the powder-magazine being struck by lightning at
midnight. He was in bed, was blown out of the window, and lay for some
time on the ramparts unhurt. Most of the family and attendants perished,
but his infant daughter Anne was found next day alive, and sleeping in
her cradle under a beam in the ruins, uninjured by the explosion. She
lived to marry the Earl of Winchelsea and have thirty children, of whom
thirteen survived her.



Westward of Portland Isle, on the southern coast near Abbotsbury, are
the ruins of a monastery built by Canute, and St. Catharine's Chapel,
perched on a steep hill overlooking the sea, while in the neighborhood
is the Earl of Ilchester's castle, surrounded by attractive gardens.
Beyond this the little river Lym flows into the sea from among grand yet
broken crags mantled with woods, and in a deep valley at the foot of the
hills is the romantic town of Lyme Regis, with a pleasant beach and good
bathing, the force of the waves being broken by a pier called the Cobb,
frequently washed away and as often restored, sometimes at great cost.
This is a semicircular breakwater eleven hundred and seventy-nine feet
long, protecting the harbor. There are grand cliffs around this little
harbor, the Golden Cap and the Rhodehorn rearing their heads on high,
the summit of the latter being cut by a passage called the Devil's
Bellows. It was near Lyme Regis that on Christmas, 1839, the Dowlands
landslip took place, an area of forty acres sliding down the cliff to a
lower level, roughly removing two cottages and an orchard in the
descent. Five miles farther west the pretty river Axe, which flows down
from the Mendips, enters the sea, and on an eminence overlooking the
stream is the town of Axminster, formerly a Saxon stronghold, and
afterwards famous for the carpet manufacture, which some time ago was
removed to Wilton. Its minster was founded in the days of Æthelstan, but
the remains are Norman work. Still farther west the little river Sid
flows down past Sidbury and Sidford, and enters the sea through a valley
in which nestles the charming watering-place of Sidmouth, celebrated for
its pebbles found among the green sand. Salcombe Hill and High Peak,
towering five hundred feet, guard the valley-entrance on either hand,
and in the church of St. Nicholas is a memorial window erected by Queen
Victoria in memory of her father, the Duke of Kent, who died here in
1820. The esplanade in front of the town is protected by a sea-wall
seventeen hundred feet long. Near here, at Hayes Barton, now an
Elizabethan farm-house, Sir Walter Raleigh was born, the room in which
he first saw the light being still shown. Beyond this, to the westward,
the river Exe falls into the sea through a broad estuary at Exmouth,
also a favorite watering-place, over which the lofty Haldon Hills keep
guard at a height of eight hundred feet, the Beacon Walks being cut on
their sloping face and tastefully planted with trees, while a broad
esplanade protected by a sea-wall fronts the town. The shores all along
are dotted with villas, and this coast is a popular resort, the villages
gradually expanding into towns as their populations increase.





About eleven miles up the river Exe, before it has broadened out into
the estuary, but where it flows through a well-marked valley and washes
the bases of the cliffs, stands Exeter, a city set upon a hill. Here was
an ancient "dun," or British hill-fort, succeeded by a Roman, and then
by a Norman, castle, with the town descending upon the slope towards the
river and spreading into the suburb of St. Thomas on the other side. The
growing city now covers several neighboring hills and tributary valleys,
one of the flourishing new suburbs being named Pennsylvania. Upon the
ridge, where was located the old hill-fort, there still remain in a
grove of trees some scanty ruins of the Norman castle, while well up the
slope of the hill rise the bold and massive towers of Exeter Cathedral.
Unique among English municipalities, this is essentially a hill-city,
the ancient British name of Caerwise having been Latinized by the Romans
into Isca, and then changed to Exanceaster, which was afterwards
shortened into the modern Exeter. Nobody knows when it was founded: the
Romans almost at the beginning of the Christian era found a flourishing
British city alongside the Exe, and it is claimed to have been "a walled
city before the incarnation of Christ." Isca makes its appearance in the
Roman records without giving the date of its capture, while it is also
uncertain when the Saxons superseded the Romans and developed its name
into Exanceaster. They enclosed its hill of Rougemont, however, with a
wall of masonry, and encircled the city with ramparts built of square
stones and strengthened by towers. Here the Saxon king Æthelstan held a
meeting of the Witan of the whole realm and proclaimed his laws, and in
the first year of the eleventh century the Danes sailed up to the town
and attacked it, being, however, beaten off after a desperate struggle.
Two years later they made another attack, captured and despoiled it; but
it rose from its ruins, and the townsmen afterwards defied the Norman as
they had the Dane. William attacked and breached the walls, the city
surrendered, and then he built Rougemont Castle, whose venerable ruins
remain, to curb the stout-hearted city. It was repeatedly besieged--in
the days of Stephen, Henry VII., and Henry VIII., the last siege during
the quarrels preceding the Reformation lasting thirty four days, the
defenders being reduced to eating horse-flesh. In the Civil War the
Royalists captured it from the Parliamentarians, who held it, and it
remained in the king's possession until after the defeat at Naseby, when
Cromwell recaptured it. Charles II. was proclaimed at Exeter with
special rejoicings. When William, Prince of Orange, first landed in
England, he came to the valley of the Teign, near Newton Abbot, where
the block of granite is still preserved from which his proclamation was
read to the people. Three days later he entered Exeter, escorted by a
great crowd of the townspeople. He went in military state to the
cathedral and mounted the bishop's throne, with its lofty spire-like
canopy, rich with the carving of the fifteenth century, while the choir
sang the Te Deum, after which Bishop Burnet read his proclamation. He
remained several days in Exeter, while events ripened elsewhere for his
reception. Here many Englishmen of rank and influence joined him, and
his quarters began to display the appearance of a court. The daily show
of rich liveries and of coaches drawn by six horses among the old houses
in the cathedral close, with their protruding bow-windows and balconies,
gave the usually quiet place a palatial appearance, the king's
audience-chamber being in the deanery. He remained here two weeks, and
then left for London, the entire kingdom having risen in his favor and
James having deserted the capital for Salisbury. This ended Exeter's
stirring history. It afterwards grew in fame as a manufactory of
woollens, but this has declined, and the chief industries now consist in
the making of gloves and agricultural implements.


Exeter Cathedral is the most conspicuous feature in the view upon
approaching the city, rising well above the surrounding houses, its two
massive gray towers giving it something of the appearance of a fortress.
This feature makes it unique among English cathedrals, especially as the
towers form its transepts. The close is contracted, and around it are
business edifices instead of ecclesiastical buildings. The exterior is
plain and simple in outline, excepting the western front, which is a
very rich example of fourteenth-century Gothic. A church is said to have
been standing on its site and dedicated to the Benedictines as early as
the seventh century, and it lasted until after the Norman Conquest. The
Normans built a new church in the twelfth century, which contained the
present towers, but the remainder of the structure was afterwards
transformed as we now see it. The rich western façade consists of three
stages, receding one behind the other; the lower is the porch,
subdivided into three enriched arcades containing figures and pierced by
three doorways. The second stage is formed above this by the ends of the
nave and side-aisles, being terminated with a battlement flanked by
small pinnacles about halfway up the nave gable. A fine window pierces
this stage, and above it the remainder of the gable forms the third
stage, also pierced by a window which opens over the battlement. The
figures in the lower stage represent the kings of England, apostles, and
saints. The interior of the nave discloses stone vaulting and Decorated
architecture, with large clerestory windows, but a small triforium. The
bosses of the roof, which presents an unbroken line, are seventy feet
above the floor. One of the bays on the north side of the triforium is a
beautiful minstrels' gallery, communicating with a chamber above the
porch. The inner walls of the towers have been cut away, completely
adapting them for transepts, the towers being supported on great pointed
arches. In the large east window the stained glass commemorates St.
Sidwell, a lady murdered in the eighth century at a well near Exeter by
a blow from a scythe at the instigation of her stepmother, who coveted
her property. The cathedral is rich in monumental relics, and it has
recently been thoroughly restored. Little remains of the ancient
convent-buildings beyond the chapter-house, which adjoins the south


The older parts of Exeter present a quaint and picturesque appearance,
especially along the High Street, where is located the old Guild Hall, a
ponderous stone building, with a curious front projecting over the
footway and supported by columns; it was built in the sixteenth century.
Sir Thomas Bodley, who founded the Bodleian Library of Oxford, was born
in Exeter, and also Richard Hooker the theologian. Among its famous
bishops was Trelawney (then the Bishop of Bristol), who was one of the
seven bishops committed by King James to the Tower, and whose memory
still lives in the West-Country refrain, the singing of which had so
much to do with raising the English revolt in favor of the Prince of

    "And shall Trelawney die?
    And shall Trelawney die?
  There's twenty thousand Cornish lads
    Will know the reason why."


[Illustration: THE GUILD HALL.]


[Illustration: BABBICOMBE BAY.]

[Illustration: ANSTIS COVE.]

From the estuary of the Exe the Devonshire coast trends almost southward
towards the mouth of the Dart, being everywhere bordered by picturesque
cliffs. Nestling in a gap among the crags, under the protecting shelter
of the headlands, is the little watering-place of Dawlish, fronted by
villas and flower-gardens, and having to the southward strange pinnacles
of red rock rising from the edge of the sea, two of them forming a
fanciful resemblance to the human figure, being named the Parson and the
Clerk. A storm recently knocked off a considerable part of the Parson's
head. Upon their sides, piercing through tunnel after tunnel, runs the
railway almost over the water's edge. Soon the cliffs are breached with
a wider opening, and here flows out the river Teign, where is the larger
watering-place of Teignmouth, which has frequently suffered from Danish
and French invasions, but is now best known by having the longest wooden
bridge in England spanning the river-estuary and extending seventeen
hundred feet, with a swing-draw to permit vessels to pass. The valley is
broad, with picturesque villas on either bank. Below Teignmouth the
shores project into the sea at the bold promontory of Hope's Nose, which
has Torbay on one side and Babbicombe Bay on the other. Here, around the
shores of the bay on the southern side of the projecting cape, is the
renowned watering-place of Torquay, which has grown enormously since it
has become such a fashionable resort in recent years. Its beautiful
scenery and sheltered position have made it a favorite home for
invalids. Its name is derived from the neighboring hill of Mohun's Tor,
where there are ruins of an abbey. To the north of the headland is the
fine sweep of Babbicombe Bay, with a border of smooth sand beach backed
by steep cliffs, above which is the plateau where most of its villas are
built. To the south of the headland Torquay spreads around a fine park,
with highlands protecting it on almost all sides, while farther to the
southward the limestone cliffs are bold and lofty, one of them
presenting the singular feature of a natural arch called London Bridge,
where the sea has pierced the extremity of a headland. Upon the eastern
face of the promontory of Hope's Nose, and just below Babbicombe Bay,
another pretty cove has been hollowed out by the action of the waves,
its sides being densely clothed with foliage, while a pebbly beach
fringes the shore. This is Anstis Cove, its northern border guarded by
limestone cliffs that have been broken at their outer verge into pointed
reefs. Compton Castle, about two miles from Torbay, is a specimen,
though in ruins, of the ancient fortified mansion of the reign of Edward
III. It is of massive construction, built of the native limestone, and
part of it is now used as a farm-house. Following around the
deeply-recessed curve of Torbay, its southern boundary is found to be
the bold promontory of Berry Head, and here on the northern side is the
old fishing-port of Brixham, having Church Brixham built up on the
cliffs and Brixham Quay down on the beach. It was here that the Prince
of Orange landed in 1688, and a monument in the market-place
commemorates the event, the identical block of stone on which he first
stepped being preserved.


[Illustration: TOTNES, FROM THE RIVER.]

Southward of this promontory is the estuary of the Dart, a river which,
like nearly all the streams of Devonshire, rises in that great "mother
of rivers," Dartmoor, whence come the Tawe and the Teign, of which we
have already spoken, and also the Torridge, the Yealm, the Erme, the
Plym, and the Avon (still another of them). This celebrated moor covers
an area of about one hundred and thirty thousand acres, stretching
thirty-three miles in length and twenty-two miles in breadth, and its
elevation averages seventeen hundred feet, though some of its tors, the
enormous rocks of granite crowning its hills, rise considerably higher,
the loftiest of these, the Yes Tor, near Okehampton, being two thousand
and fifty feet high. The moor is composed of vast stretches of bog and
stunted heather, with plenty of places where peat is cut, and having its
streams filled with trout. Legend tells us that all manner of hill-and
water-spirits frequent this desolate yet attractive region, and that in
Cranmore Pool and its surrounding bogs, whence the Dart takes its rise,
there dwelt the "pixies" and the "kelpies." The head-fountains of both
the Dart and the Plym are surrounded with romance, as the cities at
their mouths are famous in English history, and Spenser, in the _Faerie
Queene_, announces that both Dart and Plym were present at the great
feast of the rivers which celebrated the wedding of the Thames and
Medway. The courses of the Dartmoor rivers are short, but with rapid
changes. In the moorland they run through moss and over granite; then
among woods and cultivated fields, till, with constantly broadening
stream, the river joins the estuary or tidal inlet, and thus finds its
vent in the ocean. Strangely enough, with these short streams there are
high points on the Dartmoor tors from which both source and mouth of a
river are visible at the same time. The Dart, with steadily-increasing
flow, thus runs out of the moorland, and not far from its edge passes
the antique town of Totnes, where the remains of an ivy-mantled wall
upon the hill is all that is left of Judhael's famous castle, which
dates from the Norman Conquest. The surrounding country is remarkably
picturesque, and is noted for its agricultural wealth. About two miles
to the eastward is the romantic ruin of Berry Pomeroy Castle, founded
upon a rock which rises almost perpendicularly from a narrow valley,
through which a winding brook bubbles. It is overhung with foliage and
shrubbery and mantled with moss and ivy, so that it is most attractive.
The great gate, the southern walls, part of a quadrangle, and a few
turrets are all that remain of the castle, which suffered severely in
the Civil War. Tradition states that the adjacent village was destroyed
by lightning. This castle also dates from the Norman Conquest, and
passed from its original possessors, the Pomeroys, to Protector
Somerset, the Duke of Somerset being the present owner.


[Illustration: A BEND OF THE DART.]

[Illustration: DARTMOUTH CASTLE.]

The Dart, which is a rocky stream above Totnes and a favorite resort of
the fisherman and sketcher, becomes navigable below the town, and has a
soft, peculiar beauty of its own that has made it often compared to the
Rhine; but there is little comparison between them: the Dart has no
precipitous cliffs or vine-clad hills, and no castle excepting at its
mouth. From Totnes to Dartmouth is about twelve miles, through
exquisitely beautiful scenery, especially where the river passes the
woods of Sharpham, the current narrowing to about one hundred and fifty
feet, and flowing through an amphitheatre of overarching trees rising in
masses of foliage to the height of several hundred feet. The stream
makes various sharp bends--a paradise for the artist--and finally it
broadens out into an estuary like an inland lake, with a view over the
intervening neck of land to Torbay, and beyond the coast-line at Exmouth
and towards Portland. Thus we come to Dartmouth, the old houses built
tier above tier on a steep hill running up from the harbor, while at the
extreme point of the promontory, guarding the entrance to the estuary,
is the little church of St. Petrox, with its armorial gallery and ruins
of an ancient manor house, and the castle, consisting of a square and a
round tower, coming down from Henry VII.'s reign, when it was built for
coast-defence. On the opposite point of the harbor-entrance are the
foundations of another castle, evidently built about the same time.
Dartmouth in early times was a port of great importance, and Edward III.
first gave it a charter under the name of Clifton-Dartmouth-Hardness.
Its merchants were then numerous and wealthy, and Coeur de Leon's
crusaders assembled their fleet in the harbor in 1190. The French
destroyed both it and Plymouth in 1377, and in 1403 the two towns,
combining, ravaged the French coasts and burned forty ships. The French
retaliated the next year, but Dartmouth was too much for them, killing
Du Chastel, the commander, and defeating his expedition. It suffered
severely in the Civil War, and there are still traces of the
land-fastenings of the iron chain stretched across the harbor to keep
out the French.


[Illustration: THE DEWERSTONE.]

[Illustration: IN BICKLEIGH VALE.]


Westward of the valley of the Dart is the valley of the Plym, also
flowing out of Dartmoor. Two streams known as the Cad and the Mew join
to form this river, and though they are of about equal importance, the
source of the Cad is generally regarded as the true Plym head, while a
crossing upon it is known as the Plym Steps. Both are rocky, dashing
mountain-streams, and such are also the characteristics of the Plym
after the junction until it enters its estuary. The Plym Head is within
the royal forest of Dartmoor, about twelve hundred feet above the sea,
and in the wild and lonely moorland. The stream flows by the flat summit
of Sheeps Tor, one of the chief peaks on the southern border of the
moor. Here in a hollow formed by overhanging rocks one of the Royalist
Elfords, whose house was under the tor, sought refuge, and amused his
solitude by painting the walls of the cavern, which is known as the
"Pixies' House," and is regarded by the neighbors as a dangerous place
for children, to whom these little fairies sometimes take a fancy. It is
not safe, they say, to go near it without dropping a pin as an offering
between the chinks of the rock--not a very costly way of buying
immunity. In Sheeps Tor churchyard in the valley below lies Sir James
Brooke, Rajah of Sarawak, who died near there in 1868. As the streams
course down the hillside they disclose frequent traces of the rude stone
relics left there by an ancient people, the chief being the settlement
at Trowlesworthy, where there is a circular hut enclosure about four
hundred feet in diameter, with stone avenues leading to it and the
entrances defended by portions of walls. The stones are nowhere large,
however, rarely exceeding five feet high. Then we come to Shaugh, where
the rivers struggle through rocky ravines and finally join their waters.
The little Shaugh church crowns the granite rocks on one side, while on
the other is the towering crag of the Dewerstone. This ivy-clad rock,
which lifts its furrowed and wrinkled battlements far above the Plym,
was the "Rock of Tiw," that powerful god of the Saxons from whom comes
the name of Tuesday. Once, we are told, in the deep snow traces of a
human foot and a cloven hoof were found ascending to the highest point
of the rock, which His Satanic Majesty seems to have claimed for his own
domain. From this lofty outpost of the moor, if he stayed there, our
all-time enemy certainly had a wide lookout. On the one hand is a grand
solitude, and on the other a hilly country stretches to the seaboard,
with the river-valley winding through woods and fields, and Plymouth
Sound and its breakwater in the distance. Here, below the junction of
the two streams, are the scant remains of the old house of Grenofen,
whose inmates lived in great state, and were the Slannings who so
ardently supported King Charles. A mossy barn with massive gables is the
prominent feature of the ruins. The river runs down through the very
beautiful vale of Bickleigh, and then under Plym Bridge, where it
becomes broader and more tranquil as it approaches the head of the
estuary. This region belonged to the priory of Plympton, and its
Augustinian owners raised at the end of the bridge a small chapel where
the traveller might pause for prayer before venturing into the solitudes
beyond. The remains of this structure, however, are now slight. At
Plympton St. Mary was the priory, and at Plympton Earl the castle of the
Earls of Devon, a brook flowing between them to the river. Both stand
near the head of the estuary, and are in ruins. The priory was the
wealthiest monastic house in Devon, but the castle was only important as
the head-quarters of Plymouth's Royalist besiegers in the Civil War. The
priory was the nurse of the noted port of Plymouth, and its earlier
beginnings can be traced to the fostering care of the Augustinians, who
developed the fishing-town that subsequently became the powerful
seaport. Plympton, the old rhyme tells us, was "a borough-town" when
Plymouth was little else than a "a furzy down." The priory was founded
in the twelfth century, and was long patronized by the neighboring Earls
of Devon. The Augustinians, legend says, were the first to cultivate the
apple in Devonshire, and the ruins still disclose the moss-grown
"apple-garth." Little remains of the monastery beyond the old refectory
doorway and walls. The town of Plympton Maurice is in the valley near
by, famous as the birthplace of Sir Joshua Reynolds in 1723, but the
house has been swept away, though the grammar-school in which his father
taught remains. Reynolds is said to have made good use of the
recollections of the grand scenery around his birthplace in furnishing
landscape backgrounds for his pictures. The town afterwards elected him
mayor, though he rarely visited his birthplace, but in lieu sent the
corporation his portrait painted by himself. Here begins the broad
estuary known as the Laira, at the mouth of which stands Plymouth, the
town covering the land between the Laira and the Hamoaze, the estuary of
the Tamar, with its adjoining suburbs of Stonehouse and Devonport. Here
are now a population of two hundred thousand, while the station is of
vast importance as a government dockyard and barracks, with a chain of
strong protecting fortifications for defence from attacks both by sea
and land. Along the southern bank of the estuary extend the woods of
Saltram, the seat of the Earl of Morley. Then we come to Catwater Haven,
crowded with merchant-ships, and the older harbor of Sutton Pool. Mount
Batten on one side and Citadel Point on the other guard the entrance to
the haven. It was here that the English fleet awaited the Armada in
1588; that Essex gathered his expedition to conquer Cadiz in 1596; and
from here sailed the _Mayflower_ with the Pilgrim Fathers in 1620.
Plymouth harbor's maritime and naval history is, however, interwoven
with that of England.


The port of Plymouth comprises what are called the "Three
Towns"--Plymouth proper, covering about a square mile, Stonehouse, and
Devonport, where the great naval dockyard is located. Plymouth Sound is
an estuary of the English Channel, and receives the Plym at its
north-eastern border and the Tamar at its north-western, the sound being
about three miles square and protected by the great breakwater a mile
long, with a lighthouse, and defended by forts. The Plym broadens into
the Catwater, used as a haven for merchant-vessels and transports and
capable of furnishing anchorage to a thousand ships at one time. The
Tamar broadens into the Hamoaze, which is the naval harbor, and is four
miles long, with sufficient anchorage-ground for the entire British
navy. Sutton Pool is a tidal harbor now used by merchant-vessels. The
coasts of Plymouth Sound are rocky and abrupt, and strong fortresses
frown at every entrance. It is the naval dockyard that gives Plymouth
its chief importance: this is at Devonport, which is strongly fortified
by breastworks, ditches, embankments, and heavy batteries. The great
dockyard encloses an area of ninety-six acres and has thirty-five
hundred feet of water-frontage. There are here five docks and also
building-slips, where the great British war-ships are constructed.
Another enclosure of seventy-two acres at Point Keyham is used for
repairing ships, and a canal seventy feet wide runs through the yards to
facilitate the movement of materials. Immense roofs cover the docks.
East of Devonport, divided from it by a creek, and adjoining Plymouth,
is Stonehouse. Here are the great victualling yard, marine barracks, and
naval hospital. The Royal William Victualling Yard occupies fourteen
acres on a tongue of land at the mouth of the Tamar, and cost $7,500,000
to build. Here the stores are kept and naval supplies furnished, its
great features being the vast government bakehouse, the cooperage, and
the storehouses. Its front is protected by a redoubt, and to the
eastward are the tasteful grounds of the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe's winter
villa. The marine barracks, which have the finest mess-room in England,
will accommodate fifteen hundred men; the naval hospital, northward of
Stonehouse, will furnish beds for twelve hundred. There are three
thousand men employed about these great docks and stores, and they form
the most extensive naval establishment in the world. Near Mount Wise are
the Raglan Barracks, where there is a display of cannon taken from the

In Plymouth Sound is a bold pyramidal rock, the Isle of St. Nicholas,
which is a formidable fortress. Mount Edgcumbe is on the western shore,
and on the eastern side is Plymouth's pretty park, known as the Hoe,
where the old Eddystone Lighthouse will be set up. Having come down the
Plym, we will now ascend the Tamar, past the huge docks and stores, and
about five miles above see the great Albert Bridge, which carries a
railway, at a height of one hundred feet, from the hills of Devon over
to those of Cornwall on the western shore. It is built on nineteen
arches, two broad ones of four hundred and fifty-five feet span each
bridging the river, the entire structure being two thousand two hundred
and forty feet long. Out in the English Channel, fourteen miles from
Plymouth, is its famous beacon--the Eddystone Lighthouse. Here
Winstanley perished in the earlier lighthouse that was swept away by the
terrible storm of 1703, and here Smeaton built his great lighthouse in
1759, one hundred feet high, which has recently been superseded by the
new lighthouse. The Eddystone Rocks consist of twenty-two gneiss reefs
extending about six hundred and fifty feet, in front of the entrance to
Plymouth Sound. Smeaton's lighthouse, modelled after the trunk of a
sturdy oak in Windsor Park, became the model for all subsequent
lighthouses. It is as firm to-day as when originally built, but the reef
on which it rests has been undermined and shattered by the joint action
of the waves and the leverage of the tall stone column, against which
the seas strike with prodigious force, causing it to vibrate like the
trunk of a tree in a storm. The foundation-stone of the new lighthouse
was laid on a reef one hundred and twenty-seven feet south of the old
one in 1878. It is built of granite and rises one hundred and
thirty-eight feet above the rock, its light being visible seventeen
miles: it was first lighted May 18, 1882.


A short distance up the Tamar it receives its little tributary the Tavy,
running through a deep ravine, and on its banks are the ruins of
Tavistock Abbey, founded in the tenth century and dedicated to St. Mary.
Orgarius, the Earl of Devonshire, was admonished in a dream to build it,
but his son Ordulph finished it. He was of great strength and gigantic
stature, could break down gates and stride across a stream ten feet
wide. They still preserve, we are told, some of Ordulph's huge bones in
Tavistock Church. The Danes plundered and burned the abbey, but it was
rebuilt in greater splendor, and its abbot sat in the House of Peers.
When it was disestablished, like Woburn it fell to Lord Russell, and it
is now owned by the Duke of Bedford. The remains of the grand
establishment, however, are but scanty, and its best memory is that of
the printing-press set up by the monks, which was the second press
established in England. The Duke of Bedford's attractive villa of
Endsleigh is near Tavistock, and a short distance south of the town is
Buckland Abbey, built on the river-bank by the Countess of Devon in the
thirteenth century. This was the home of Sir Francis Drake, and is still
held by his descendants. Drake was born in a modest cottage on the banks
of the Tavy about the year 1539. North of Tavistock, on the little river
Lyd, are the ruins of Lydford Castle, surrounded by a village of rude
cottages. Here originated the "law of Lydford," a proverb expressive of
hasty judgment:

  "First hang and draw,
  Then hear the cause by Lydford law."

One chronicler accounts for this proverb by the wretched state of the
castle jail, in which imprisonment was worse than death. At Lydford is a
remarkable chasm where a rude arch is thrown across an abyss, at the
bottom of which, eighty feet below, the Lyd rattles along in its
contracted bed. This is a favorite place for suicides, and the tale is
still told of a benighted horseman, caught in a heavy storm, who spurred
his horse along the road at headlong speed to seek shelter in the
village. Next day it was found that the storm had swept the bridge away,
and the rider shuddered to think how his horse on that headlong ride
through the tempest had leaped over the abyss without his knowing it.


[Illustration: MINEHEAD.]


Exmoor is a broad strip of almost mountainous moorland extending through
the northern borders of Somerset and Devon and down to the coast of
Bristol Channel. Its hills descend precipitously to the sea, so that
only small brooks flow northward from them, excepting the Lyn, which
manages to attain the dignity of a river by flowing for some distance
among the hills parallel to the coast. It was but recently that good
roads were constructed across this lonely moor, and on its northern
edge, where the craggy headland of Greenaleigh is thrust out into the
sea, is the harbor of Minehead, with a little fishing-village skirting
its shores. A short distance inland, and seated at the bases of the
steep Brendon Hills, which rise in sharp wooded slopes above its houses,
is the little market-town of Dunster. On an outlying hill, projecting
from the mass, the original lord of Dunster built his castle, perching
it upon a rocky crag that Nature herself designed for a fortress. The
Saxons called it their "Hill-tower." Its picturesque mass of buildings
is of various dates, but much more modern than their early day, most of
the present structure having been built in Queen Elizabeth's reign. The
castle was held for King Charles in the Civil War, and besieged by the
Parliamentary troops, whose commander sent this bloodthirsty message to
its governor: "If you will deliver up the castle, you shall have fair
quarter: if not, expect no mercy: your mother shall be in front to
receive the first fury of your cannon." The governor promptly and
bravely replied, "If you do what you threaten, you do the most barbarous
and villainous act that was ever done. My mother I honor, but the cause
I fight for and the masters I serve are God and the king.--Mother, do
you forgive me, and give me your blessing, and let the rebels answer for
spilling that blood of yours, which I would save with the loss of mine
own if I had enough for both my master and yourself." The mother also
without hesitation answered him: "Son, I forgive thee, and pray God to
bless thee, for this brave resolution. If I live I shall love thee the
better for it: God's will be done!" Whether the atrocious threat would
have been put into execution was never decided, for a strong Royalist
force soon appeared, routing the besiegers, capturing a thousand of
them, and releasing the lady. But the castle was soon afterwards taken
for the Parliament by Colonel Blake, subsequently the admiral. It was
then demolished, and now the summit of the flat-topped hill, where
formerly was the keep, is devoted to the peaceful amusement of a
bowling-green, from which there are exquisite views of the Brendon Hills
and far away over the Bristol Channel to the distant coast of Wales. It
was at Dunster Castle that William Prynne was shut up a prisoner by
Cromwell. Prynne had been pilloried, shorn of his ears, and imprisoned
by King Charles I. for his denunciations of the court, and then
indulging in the same criticism of the Protector, he was confined at
Dunster. It is now the head-quarters for those who love the exciting
pleasures of stag-hunting on Exmoor.


[Illustration: THE DOONE VALLEY.]

Journeying westward over the hills from Minehead, which is just now
endeavoring, though with only partial success, to convert itself into a
fashionable watering-place, Dunkery Beacon is seen raising its head
inland--a brown, heathy moorland elevated seventeen hundred feet above
the sea. There is a grand panorama disclosed from its summit, though it
is a toilsome ascent to get up there and overlook the fifteen counties
it can display. Far below is the level shore of Porlock Bay, with the
little village set in at the base of the cliffs. Here Southey was
sheltered at its inn, and wrote a sonnet while he was "by the unwelcome
summer rain detained;" and here the village has slept ever since the
Danes harried and Harold burned it. Then the road climbs laboriously up
the hill again to Porlock Moor, and as the top is reached, far away is
seen a little grassy basin running like a streak off towards the
north-west, and enclosed by steep hills, in which it is ultimately lost.
This is the valley of the Lyn, and joining it is another little glen,
with a hamlet of white cottages at the junction: this is the Oare
valley, the centre of some of the most stirring traditions of Exmoor,
embodied in Blackmore's novel of _Lorna Doone_. Two centuries ago a
lawless clan established themselves in this lonely glen, from which
issues the Bagworthy Water not far away from the little village of Oare.
Here was Jan Ridd's farm, and near it the cataract of the Bagworthy
Water-slide, while above this cataract, in the recesses of Doone Glen,
was the robbers' home, whence they issued to plunder the neighboring
country. The novel tells how Jan Ridd, who was of herculean strength,
was standing with his bride Lorna at the altar of the little church in
Oare when a bullet wounded her. Out rushed Jan from the presence of his
wife, dead as he thought, to pursue the murderer. He was unarmed, and
rode after him over the moorland, tearing from an oak a mighty bough as
he passed under it. To this day the rent in "Jan Ridd's tree" is shown.
Then came the struggle, and an Exmoor bog swallowed up the murderer, who
was the last of the robber chieftains; and afterwards the bride
recovered and the happy pair were united. Exmoor is the only place
remaining in the kingdom where the wild stag is still hunted with
hounds, the season being in the early autumn, when all the inns are
crowded, and on the day of a "meet" all the country seems alive.

[Illustration: BAGWORTHY WATER.]

[Illustration: JAN RIDD'S TREE.]


[Illustration: VIEW ON THE EAST LYN.]

[Illustration: CASTLE ROCK, LYNTON.]

[Illustration: THE DEVIL'S CHEESE-RING.]


From Oare the valley of the Lyn can be followed down to the sea, flowing
through its wooded gorge and disclosing many pretty views. It runs
rapidly over the rocks, and, when at last seeking the sea, the little
stream manages to escape out of the hills that have so long encompassed
it, we again find coupled together an upper and a lower town--Lynton,
perched hundreds of feet above on the crags, and Lynmouth, down by the
water's edge, both in grandly picturesque locations. Crowded between the
bases of the crags and the pebbly beach is the irregular line of old
cottages beside the bubbling stream, with creeping vines climbing over
their walls and thatched roofs, while beyond is thrust out the ancient
pier that made the port of Lynmouth. Up on the crags, with houses
nestling here in nooks and perched there upon cliffs, Lynton mounts by
zigzag paths, until, on a rocky terrace above, it gets room to spread
into a straggling street. The two streams called the East and West Lyn
unite here before seeking the sea, and join their currents at the edge
of the town. Here they leap over the boulders:

  "Cool and clear, cool and clear,
  By shining shingle and foaming weir,
  Under the crag where the ouzel sings,
  And the ivied wall where the church-bell rings."

Southey rapturously described the East Lyn Vale as the "finest spot,
except Cintra and Arrabida, that I ever saw." It is like a miniature
glen in the Alps or the Pyrenees, and every turn in the road up to the
Waters-meet, where the Brendon joins the Lyn, discloses new beauties. It
is an exquisite combination of wood, rock, and stream that baffles all
description. Gentle flowers grow here to luxuriant perfection, protected
from all chilling blasts and with ample moisture to assist the sunshine
in their cultivation. But barely a mile east of Lynton on the coast
there is told a different story: there is a valley of rocks, where
between two ridges of hills the vale is covered with stones and almost
completely laid bare, a terrific mass of boulders, the very skeleton of
the earth. Overhanging the sea is the gigantic "Castle Rock," while
facing it from the inland side, at an elbow of the valley, is a queer
pile of crags known as the "Devil's Cheese-Ring." From the castle is a
view over the sea and of the romantic towns, with the little river
flowing alongside and the tower on Lynmouth beach, while far westward
the moorland spreads away towards those other romantic spots, Ilfracombe
and Clovelly.


[Illustration: ILFRACOMBE.]

Let us skirt along the precipitous Devonshire coast westward from the
Lyn, where the cliffs rise high and abruptly from the water, with
foliage on the hills above them and sheep browsing like little white
specks beyond. Thus Exmoor is prolonged westward in a broad and lofty
ridge of undulating hills, through which a stream occasionally carves
its devious course in a deep and sheltered valley that comes out to the
sea between bold, rocky headlands. Far out over the sea loom up the
coasts of Wales in purple clouds. Soon in a breach in the wall of crags
we find Combe Martin, its houses dotted among the gardens and orchards
clustering thickly around the red stone church. Here were silver-mines
long ago, and here lived Martin of Tours, to whom William the Conqueror
granted the manor which to this day bears his name. The neighboring
hills grow the best hemp in Devon, and the crags guarding the harbor are
known as the Great and Little Hangman, the former, which is the higher,
standing behind the other. The local tradition says that once a fellow
who had stolen a sheep was carrying the carcase home on his back, having
tied the hind legs together around his neck. He paused for breath at the
top of the hill, and, resting against a projecting slab, poised the
carcase on the top, when it suddenly slipped over and garroted him. He
was afterwards found dead, and thus named the hills. Near here was born,
in 1522, Bishop Jewel of Salisbury, of whom it is recorded by that
faithful biographer Fuller that he "wrote learnedly, preached painfully,
lived piously, died peacefully." To the westward are Watersmouth, with
its natural arch in the slaty rocks bordering the sea, and Hillsborough
rising boldly to guard a tiny cove. Upon this precipitous headland is an
ancient camp, and it overlooks Ilfracombe, the chief watering-place of
the northern Devonshire coast. Here a smart new town has rapidly
developed, with paths cut upon the cliffs and encroachments made along
the shore. High upon a pyramidal headland stands the ancient chapel
where in the olden time the forefathers of the village prayed to St.
Nicholas for deliverance from shipwreck. Now a lighthouse is relied on
for this service. The promontory is connected with a still bolder and
loftier headland, the Capstone Rock. The town is built on the slope of
the hills overlooking these huge round-topped crags, but its streets do
not run down to sand-beaches. There is little but rocks on the shore and
reefs in the water, worn into ridges of picturesque outline, over which
the surf breaks grandly in time of storm. We are told that in a cave
near by, Sir William Tracy, one of the murderers of St. Thomas à Becket
at Canterbury, concealed himself while waiting to escape from England.
He and his accomplices were ordered to purge themselves by a pilgrimage
to the Holy Land, but Tracy was not able to accomplish it. The winds of
heaven always drove him back whenever he tried to embark, for he had
struck the first blow at Becket. He was buried in Morthoe Church beyond


[Illustration: MORTE POINT.]

A few miles westward the coast-line suddenly bends to the southward, the
angle being marked by a wild, rocky headland known as Morte Point, which
the Devonshire proverb describes as "the place on earth which Heaven
made last and the devil will take first." It is a chaos of rock-ridges,
the sea washing against it on three sides, and is a noted place for
wrecks. Far out at sea can be seen a half-submerged black rock which the
Normans christened the Morte Stone, or "Death Rock." To the southward
sweeps a fringe of yellow sand around Morte Bay, and behind the headland
is the little village of Morthoe, where Tracy is buried. Beyond the
boundary of the bay, at Baggy Point, is another and broader bay, whose
shores make a grand sweep to the westward again. This is Barnstaple Bay,
into which flows a wide estuary forming the outlet of two rivers: the
northernmost is the Taw, and at the head of its estuary is Barnstaple.
The other is the Torridge, and upon it, at about nine miles distance
from Barnstaple, is the small but prettier town of Bideford. This is
described by Kingsley as a little white town, sloping upward from its
broad tidal river, paved with yellow sands, and having a many-arched old
bridge towards the uplands to the westward. The wooded hills close in
above the town, but in front, where the rivers join, they sink into a
hazy level of marsh and low undulations of sand. The town has stood
almost as it is now since Grenvil, the cousin of William the Conqueror,
founded it. It formerly enjoyed great commercial prosperity under the
patronage of the Grenvilles, reaching its height in the seventeenth
century. The old quay remains. The ancient bridge, which is a remarkable
one, was built five hundred years ago, and is constructed on twenty-four
piers, firmly founded, yet shaking under the footstep. The superstitious
say it is of miraculous origin, for when they began to build it some
distance farther up the river, each night invisible hands removed the
stones to their present position. It is also a wealthy bridge and of
noble rank, having its heraldic coat-of-arms (a ship and a bridge proper
on a plain field) and owning broad estates, with the income of which
"the said miraculous bridge has from time to time founded chantries,
built schools, waged suits-at-law, and, finally, given yearly dinners,
and kept for that purpose the best-stocked cellar of wines in all

[Illustration: BIDEFORD.]




The coast of Barnstaple Bay sweeps around to the westward again, and
here, under the precipitous crags, nestling in one of the most
picturesque nooks in all England, is Clovelly. From an inland plateau of
considerable elevation the land falls steeply to the sea, with a narrow
strip of sand or shingle sometimes interposed, whereon the surf dashes
before it reaches the rocks. Dense foliage, with here and there a
protruding crag, overhangs the cliffs. Ravines occasionally furrow the
rocky wall, and in one of these Clovelly is situated, beginning with
some scattered houses on the margin of the plateau above, descending the
cliff in one steep street, and spreading out about a miniature harbor on
the edge of the sea. There are few such streets to be seen
elsewhere--not made for wheeled vehicles, but paved in a series of broad
steps, over which the donkeys and the population plod with the produce
of the fleet of fishing-boats the village owns. It is narrow, with
strangely-shaped houses jumbled together alongside, and balconies and
bay-windows, chimneys and gables--all mixed up together. Here Kingsley
spent most of his boyhood, and hither flock the artists to paint odd
pictures for almost every British art-exhibition. Its little pier was
built in Richard II.'s time, when as now it was a landing-place for the
mackerel-and herring-boats. This quay has recently been somewhat
enlarged. Clovelly Court, the home of the Careys, is near by, with its
beautiful park extending out to the tall cliffs overhanging the sea. On
one craggy point, known as Gallantry Bower, and five hundred feet above
the waves, was an old watch-tower of the Normans, now reduced to a mere
ring of stones; and to the westward a few miles the bold rocks of
Hartland Point mark another angle in the coast as it bends southward
towards Cornwall. Eleven miles out to sea, rising four hundred feet and
guarded all around by grim precipices, is Lundy Island. Here in a little
cove are some fishermen's huts, while up on the top is a lighthouse,
and near it the ruins of the old Moresco Castle. We have already
referred to Sir Walter Raleigh's judicial murder: it was accomplished
mainly through the treachery of his near kinsman, Sir Lewis Stukely,
then vice-admiral of Devon. This and other actions caused Stukely to be
almost universally despised, and he was finally insulted by Lord Howard
of Effingham, when he complained to the king. "What should I do with
him?" asked James. "Hang him? On my sawl, mon, if I hung all that spoke
ill of thee, all the trees in the island were too few." Being soon
afterwards detected in the royal palace debasing the coin, he fled to
Devon, a ruined man. But he found no friends, and, every door being
closed against him, he sailed out to Lundy Island, and died alone in a
chamber of the ruined castle.


[Illustration: FOWEY PIER.]

Pursuing the bold shores of Cornwall southward, we pass many crags and
headlands, notably the Duke of Cornwall Harbor, protected by high
projecting cliffs, and just below find the ruins of King Arthur's castle
of Tintagel, located amid some of the most romantic scenery of this
grand line of coast. Here King Arthur is supposed to have been born, and
the fortress, built on a high rock almost surrounded by the sea, was
evidently of great strength. Here on the shore are King Arthur's Cliffs,
and their attractions, with the little church of Tintagel and the
partly-ruined fishing-town of Bossiney, make the place a popular resort
for poets and painters. Not far away in the interior, and standing near
the Tamar River on the top of a steep hill, is Launceston Castle, with
the town built on the adjacent slopes. The ruins, which are of great
antiquity, cover considerable surface, the walls being ten or twelve
feet thick, and the keep rising high upon the top of the hill, nearly
one hundred feet in diameter. This keep is said to have been an ancient
British structure. Old Roman and also leather coins have been found in
it, and it was a renowned stronghold when William the Norman came to
England and gave it to Robert, Earl of Moreton. It now belongs to the
Duchy of Cornwall. It was garrisoned for King Charles in the Civil War,
and was one of his last supports. Westward in Cornwall is Camelford,
over which frown the two Cornish mountains, Rowtor and Brown Willy, a
short distance to the southward, rising respectively thirteen hundred
and thirteen hundred and eighty feet. The Cornish range forms the
backbone of the narrow peninsula which now juts out to the
south-westward, marking the extreme point of England, and down which we
will gradually journey. Crossing the mountains, we come to Liskeard, in
a beautiful country filled with ancient Roman remains. Going down to the
southern coast, we reach Fowey with its picturesque harbor and pier,
with the Sharpitor and Kilmarth Mountains beyond, twelve hundred and
twelve hundred and seventy-seven feet high respectively. Fowey harbor,
sheltered by high hills richly clothed with green, is the "haven under
the hill" of which the balladist sings, and near its quaint old pier,
almost covered with houses, is Fowey Church, recently effectually


The Cornish peninsula upon approaching its termination divides into two,
with the semicircular sweep of Mount's Bay between them. To the
southward juts out the Lizard, and to the westward Land's End. While the
latter is the westernmost extremity of England, the Lizard is usually
the earliest headland that greets the mariner. The Lizard peninsula is
practically almost an island, the broad estuary of the Helford River on
one side and a strange inlet called Loo Pool on the other narrowing its
connecting isthmus to barely two miles width. To the northward of the
Helford River is the well-known port of Falmouth. Inland are the great
Cornwall tin-and copper-mines, the former having been worked for
centuries, while the latter are now probably of the greater importance.
Competition and the costlier working of the tin-mines have caused many
of them to be abandoned. These metals are mostly mined on the black
moorlands, which offer little attraction to the tourist, who gladly
avoids them for the picturesque shores of Falmouth harbor. A broad
estuary guarded by bold headlands forms Carrick Roads, and the western
one of these also guards the entrance to Falmouth harbor, which Leland
describes as being in his day "the principal haven of all Britain."
Though long frequented, however, no town stood on its shores until the
seventeenth century. When Raleigh came back from his voyage to Guiana
there was but a single house on the shore, where his crew were lodged,
and he, being impressed with the advantages of the location for a port,
laid before Queen Elizabeth a plan for the foundation of a town. But it
was a long while before anything came of it, and the place was not named
Falmouth or incorporated until the reign of Charles II. It became a
post-office packet-station for the Atlantic ports in the last century,
and Byron in his day described it as containing "many Quakers and much
salt fish." Its Cornish name is Pen-combick, meaning "the village in the
hollow of the headland," which has been corrupted by the mariner into
"Penny-come-quick," because on one occasion the landlady of the solitary
inn sold the liquor engaged for a party of visitors to a parcel of
thirsty Dutch sailors who had just landed, and, being taken to task for
it explained that the "penny come so quick" she could not deny them.
Pendennis Castle guards the entrance to Carrick Roads, and was built by
Henry VIII., being enlarged by Elizabeth. It and Raglan were the last
castles holding out for King Charles. Lightning greatly injured
Pendennis in the last century. On the opposite portal of the harbor
stands St. Mawe's Castle. The ramparts of Pendennis afford a view of
extreme beauty.

[Illustration: PENDENNIS CASTLE.]

[Illustration: MULLYON COVE]


[Illustration: CAVE AT MULLYON.]

On the narrow neck of land uniting the Lizard peninsula to the mainland
stands Helston, formerly guarded by a castle that has long since
disappeared, and named, we are told, from the great block of granite
that once formed the portal of the infernal regions. The master of those
dominions once, when he went abroad, carried his front door with him,
and was met in this neighborhood by St. Michael, whereupon there was a
"bit of a fight" between the two adversaries. His Satanic Majesty was
defeated, and, dropping his front door, fled. The great boulder, which
thus named the town, is built into a wall back of the Angel Inn, and
they hold an annual festival on May 8th to commemorate the event. Loo
Pool cuts deeply into the land to the westward of Helston, and the
district south of it is an elevated plateau, bare and treeless
generally, but containing many pretty glens, while the shore is lined
with sequestered coves. Here grow the Cornish heath-flowers, which are
most beautiful in the early autumn, while the serpentine rocks of its
grand sea-cliffs, relieved by sparkling golden crystals and veins of
green, red, and white, make fine ornaments. Upon the coast, southward
from Helston, is Mullyon Cove, a characteristic specimen of the Lizard
scenery. A glen winds down to the sea, displacing the crags to get an
outlet, and disclosing their beautiful serpentine veins. A pyramidal
rock rises on one hand, a range of serpentine cliffs on the other, and a
flat-topped island in front. In the serpentine cliffs is the portal of a
cave that can be penetrated for over two hundred feet, and was a haunt
of the smugglers in former days, the revenue officers generally winking
at them for a share of the spoils. We are told that in the last century
the smugglers here had six vessels, manned by two hundred and
thirty-four men and mounting fifty-six cannon--a formidable fleet--and
when Falmouth got a collector sufficiently resolute to try to break them
up, they actually posted handbills offering rewards for his
assassination. At one place on shore they had a battery of six-pounders,
which did not hesitate to fire on the king's ships when they became too
inquisitive. The coast is full of places about which tales are told of
the exploits of the smugglers, but the crime has long since become
extinct there because it no longer pays. South of Mullyon are the bold
headlands of Pradanack Point and Vellan Head, while beyond we come to
the most noted spot on the Lizard peninsular coast.

[Illustration: PRADANACK POINT.]


[Illustration: KYNANCE COVE.]


Kynance Cove is the opening of one of the many shallow valleys indenting
the inland plateau, with crags and skerries thrown over the sea, showing
that the cliffs on the shore have not, as usual, maintained an unbroken
front to the waves, but have been knocked about in wild confusion.
Groups of islands dot the cove; Steeple Rock rears its solitary pinnacle
aloft; the Lion Rock crouches near the southern verge. It is as wild a
place as can well be imagined, and at low water strips of sand connect
these rocks with the mainland, though the quickly-rising waters often
compel the visitor to run for it. At the water's edge, when the tide is
low, little wave-worn caverns are disclosed in the cliffs which are
known as the "Drawing-Room," the "Parlor," etc. On the smooth face of
the landward slope of one of the larger islands there are two orifices
looking like the slit of a letter-box. The upper is called the
"Post-Office," and the lower one the "Bellows." If you hold a sheet of
paper in the former a gust of air will suddenly suck it into the
aperture. Then if you look into the "Post-Office" to investigate its
secrets, a column of spray will as suddenly deluge you with a
first-class shower-bath. This is on Asparagus Island, and by climbing to
the top of the rock the mystery is solved. The rock is almost severed by
a fissure opening towards the sea: a wave surges in and spurts from the
orifices on the landward side, then recedes and sucks the air back
through them. From the cove at Kynance down to the extremity of the
Lizard the scenery is everywhere fine. Here is the southernmost
extremity of England, there being three headlands jutting into the sea
near one another, the westernmost being the Old Lizard Head. Upon the
middle one are the lighthouses that warn the mariner. Black cliffs
above, and a sea studded with reefs below, give this place a forbidding
aspect. One of the reefs is known as "Man-of-War Rock," from the wreck
of a vessel there, and the weapons cast upon the neighboring shore gave
it the name of the "Pistol Meadow." The other headland supports a
telegraph-station, and a submarine cable goes down into the sea, to
reappear again upon the distant shores of Portugal. From here the
signals are sent that give notice of arriving ships. Beneath the cliffs
rises out of the sea that strange black crag, looking like a projecting
pulpit, which is known as the Bumble Rock. In the green sward above the
cliffs a yawning gulf opens its rocky mouth, and is called the Lion's
Den. It terminates in a rocky tunnel which communicates with the sea
through a natural archway. This was a cavern, the rocky roof of which
fell in about thirty-five years ago. Nestling under the middle headland
is the tiny port of Polpeor, the little harbor of the Lizard, a
fishermen's paradise in a small way. Around on the eastern coast of the
peninsula the rocks are also fine, and here are the fishing-villages of
Lizard Town and Landewednack, the latter having a strange old church,
reputed to be the last in which a sermon was preached in the Cornish
tongue. The grave of one of the rectors tells that he lived to be one
hundred and twenty years old, for people live long in this delicious
climate. These villages are devoted to the pilchard-fishery, and during
the season the lookout-men can be seen perched on the cliffs watching
for the approach of a shoal, to warn the fishing-boats that are ready to
put to sea from the sheltered coves below. Great crags are tumbled into
the ocean, and the coast abounds in caves, with occasionally a quarry
for the serpentine. Beyond can be traced the dim outline of the
headlands guarding Falmouth entrance. This is a unique district, whose
rock-bound coast is a terror to the mariner, but a delight to the
geologist and artist, and whose recesses, where the Cornish dialect
still flourishes among the old folk, are about the only places in
England not yet penetrated by the railway, which has gridironed the
British kingdom everywhere else.

[Illustration: POLPEOR.]

[Illustration: ROCKS NEAR THE LIZARD.]


[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT.]

The western peninsula of Cornwall juts far out beyond Mount's Bay, which
acquires its name from what is probably the most remarkable crag in all
this wonderful region. This was the Iktis of the ancient geographers, an
object so conspicuous as to attract attention in all ages. It is a mass
of granite rising from the sands, covering about twenty-five acres, and
the top of the church which crowns it is elevated two hundred and
thirty-eight feet. It is impossible by either pen or pencil to give an
adequate idea of St. Michael's Mount--of the shattered masses of the
rock itself, its watch-turrets and batteries, the turf and sea-plants
niched in its recesses, and the gray, lichen-covered towers that rise
from the summit. Cornish tradition says that the giant Cormoran built
the first fortress here; and he is one of those unfortunate giants whose
fate is told under the name of Corincus in the veritable history of Jack
the Giant-killer. The archangel St. Michael afterwards appeared to some
hermits on its rocks, and this gave the mount its religious character
and name. Milton has written of it in _Lycidas_:

  "Or whether thou to our moist views denied,
    Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old,
  Where the great vision of the guarded mount
    Looks towards Namancos and Bayona's hold."

It was always a strongly-defended place, and became a Benedictine
monastery--at first as an offshoot of the greater abbey of St. Michael
in Normandy, which in situation it resembles, and afterwards as an
independent establishment. It was a stronghold as well as a religious
house, however, and was notorious as the "back-door of rebellion,"
frequently besieged. The crowning square tower is that of the monastic
church, and St. Michael's Chair is on the battlements--a stone beacon
which is of great importance to all newly-married couples in that
region, for it bestows the ascendency on the husband or wife who first
sits in it. It is of this chair Southey's ballad about the adventurous
Rebecca was written; and he tells that just as she was installed.

  "Merrily, merrily rang the bells,
    And out Rebecca was thrown."

The family of St. Aubyn hold the mount, and they have recently
thoroughly restored the buildings, adding some fine apartments. It is
accessible only when the receding tide leaves bare the natural causeway
that connects the island with the shore.


[Illustration: OLD MARKET, PENZANCE.]

[Illustration: THE LAND'S END.]

This whole peninsula is filled with hut-villages, cromlechs, and other
prehistoric remains of its ancient people, but we have not the space to
devote to their description, however agreeable it might be. Hill-castles
and caves are also frequent, each with its traditions. The chief town is
Penzance, or the "Holy Headland," jutting out into Mount's Bay, where
once was a chapel dedicated to St. Anthony, who with St. Michael kept
guard over this favored region. Here is another prosperous seat of the
pilchard-fishery, and among its people the favorite toast is to the
three Cornish products, "tin, fish, and copper." Once, they tell us,
seventy-five millions of these fish were caught in a single day. They
rise in small shoals from the depths of the sea, then unite into larger
ones, and finally, about the end of July, combine in a mighty host, led
by the "Pilchard King" and most powerful of the tribe. The lookouts on
the crags give warning, and then begins the extraordinary migration that
calls out all the Cornish fishermen. Pursued by hordes of sea-birds and
predatory fish, the pilchards advance towards the land in such vast
numbers as to discolor the water and almost to impede the passage of
vessels. The enormous fish-army passes the Land's End, a grand
spectacle, moving along parallel to the shore, and then comes the
harvest. On the southward of the granite mass that forms the extremity
of the peninsula rises the Logan Rock, the entire headland being
defended by remains of ancient intrenchments. The Logan itself is a
granite block weighing sixty tons, and so nicely balanced that it will
oscillate. Near here, as we go out towards the western extremity of the
peninsula, are several old churches, many ancient remains that have
yielded up their chief curiosities for museums, and remarkable cliffs
projecting into the sea, the strangest of them being the "holed headland
of Penwith," a mass of columnar granite which the waves have shattered
into deep fissures. Then beyond is the Land's End itself, the most
westerly point in England, with the rocks of the Longships out in the
water with their guardian lighthouse. The extreme point of the Land's
End is about sixty feet high and pierced by a natural tunnel, but the
cliffs on each side rise to a greater elevation. The faint outlines of
the Scilly Islands are seen on the distant horizon, but all else is a
view over the boundless sea. The Land's End is a vast aggregation of
granite, which Sir Humphrey Davy, the Cornish chemist and poet, who was
born at Penzance, has thus depicted:

                               "On the sea
  The sunbeams tremble, and the purple light
  Illumes the dark Bolerium: seat of storms;
  High are his granite rocks; his frowning brow
  Hangs o'er the smiling ocean. In his caves
  There sleep the haggard spirits of the storm.
  Wild, dreary, are the schistine rocks around,
  Encircled by the wave, where to the breeze
  The haggard cormorant shrieks; and far beyond,
  Where the great ocean mingles with the sky,
  Are seen the cloud-like islands gray in mists."



     The Surrey Side--The Chalk Downs--Guildford--The Hog's Back--Albury
     Down--Archbishop Abbot--St. Catharine's Chapel--St. Martha's
     Chapel--Albury Park--John Evelyn--Henry Drummond--Aldershot
     Camp--Leith Hill--Redland's Wood--Holmwood Park--Dorking--Weller
     and the Marquis of Granby Inn--Deepdene--Betchworth Castle--The
     River Mole--Boxhill--The Fox and Hounds--The Denbies--Ranmore
     Common--Battle of Dorking--Wotton
     Church--Epsom--Reigate--Pierrepoint House--Longfield--The Weald of
     Kent--Goudhurst--Bedgebury Park--Kilndown--Cranbrook--Bloody
     Baker's Prison--Sissinghurst--Bayham Abbey--Tunbridge
     Castle--Tunbridge Wells--Penshurst--Sir Philip Sidney--Hever
     Castle--Anne Boleyn--Knole--Leeds Castle--Tenterden Steeple and the
     Goodwin Sands--Rochester--Gad's Hill--Chatham--Canterbury
     Cathedral--St. Thomas à Becket--Falstaff Inn--Isle of
     Thanet--Ramsgate--Margate--North Foreland--The Cinque
     Ports--Sandwich--Rutupiæ--Ebbsfleet--Goodwin Sands--Walmer
     Castle--South Foreland--Dover--Shakespeare's
     Castle--Beachy Head--Brighton--The Aquarium--The South
     Downs--Dichling Beacon--Newhaven--Steyning--Wiston
     Manor--Chanctonbury Ring--Arundel Castle--Chichester--Selsey
     House--Selborne--Gilbert White; his book; his house, sun-dial, and
     church--Greatham Church--Winchester--The New
     Forest--Lyndhurst--Minsted Manor--Castle Malwood--Death of William
     Rufus--Rufus's Stone--Beaulieu
     --Netley Abbey--Calshot Castle--The Solent--Portsea
     Island--Portsmouth--Gosport--Spithead--The Isle of Wight--High
     Down--Alum Bay--Yarmouth--Cowes--Osborne
     House--Ryde--Brading--Sandown--Shanklin Chine--Bonchurch--The
     Undercliff--Ventnor--Niton--St. Lawrence Church--St. Catharine's
     Down--Blackgang Chine--Carisbrooke
     Castle--Newport--Freshwater--Brixton--The Needles.



Crossing over the Thames to the Surrey side, we proceed southward to
that vast chalk-measure which, like a miniature mountain-wall, divides
the watershed draining into that river from the Weald of Sussex and of
Kent. This chalky hill is here and there breached by the valley of a
stream, and through it the Wey and the Mole, to which we have heretofore
referred, flow northward to join the current of the Thames. In the gap
formed by each there is a town, Guildford standing alongside the Wey,
and Dorking on the Mole. Both develop magnificent scenery on the flanks
of the chalk-ranges that surround them; and we will now go about thirty
miles south-west from London and visit Guildford, whose origin is
involved in the mystery that surrounds the early history of so many
English towns. It was a royal manor in the days of King Alfred, being
granted to his nephew, and it was here a few years before the Norman
Conquest that the ætheling Ælfred was captured. Harold, the son of
Canute, wished to destroy him to secure the succession to the throne. He
forged a letter purporting to be from his mother, Queen Emma, inviting
Ælfred to come to England, and sent his minister Godwine forward, who
met and swore allegiance to Ælfred, lodging him at Guildford, and most
of his comrades in separate houses there. In the night Harold's
emissaries suddenly appeared, slew his comrades, and carried Ælfred off
to Ely, where he was loaded with fetters, and, being tried by some sort
of tribunal, was blinded and then put to death. The monks of Ely
enshrined his body, and of course miracles were wrought by it. The
castle was built on the Wey after the Norman Conquest, and Henry II.
made it a park and royal residence, so that it was long called the
King's Manor. In Charles I.'s time it was granted to the Earl of
Annandale. The situation of Guildford is picturesque; the chalk-range is
narrowed to a line of steep, ridgy hills almost as straight as a wall
and severed by the valley of the Wey. This pretty stream escapes from
the Weald to the southward between the Hog's Back on the west and Albury
Down on the east, the valley narrowing so as to form a natural gateway
just where the river emerges. A bridge was built here, and this
determined the site of the town, which straggles up the Hog's Back and
the Down, and also spreads out in the broadening valley of the emerging
river. High up in the hills that make the eastern slope of the valley is
the old gray castle-keep, with an ancient church-tower lower down and a
new church by the waterside. From the bridge runs straight up this hill
the chief thoroughfare of the town, High Street. The shapeless ruins of
the old castle, the keep alone being kept in good condition, are not far
away from the upper part of this street, crowning an artificial mound
encompassed by what once was a ditch, but now is chiefly a series of
gardens. The ancient church-tower, part way down the hill, is dedicated
to St. Mary, but has been shorn of its original proportions in order to
widen a street. This was done, we are told, for the convenience of
George IV., who used to pass in a coach along this street on his way
from London to Brighton. The tower is low and unassuming, and is
supposed to date from the time of King Stephen. The new church of St.
Nicholas stands by the river, and Guildford also possesses another
church built of brick. None of these churches have spires, and therefore
some local wit has written,

  "Poor Guildford, proud people;
  Three churches--no steeple."

The High Street climbs the hill past many quaint buildings, particularly
the old town-hall, where the hill is somewhat less steep. Its upper
stories project beyond the lower, being supported by carved beams, and
the town-clock hangs over the street. Abbot's Hospital, built by
Guildford's most noted townsman, George Abbot, Archbishop of Canterbury,
is also in this street. He was born in a humble cottage, and the legend
tells us that his mother, before the event, dreamed that if she could
eat a pike she would have a son who would be a great man. She was unable
to buy the fish anywhere, but, drawing a pailful of water from the
river, to her surprise found a pike in it. When George was born the tale
was told, and several distinguished people offered to become his
sponsors. They gave him a good education, and he graduated at Balliol
College, Oxford, and was made Dean of Westminster. He was one of the
revisers of the Scriptures who prepared the revision in the seventeenth
century, was made a bishop, and in 1611 Archbishop of Canterbury. His
brother was Bishop of Salisbury, and another brother Lord Mayor of
London. He was a great hunter, as were most ecclesiastics at that time,
and in 1621, when shooting at a buck, his arrow accidentally pierced the
arm of a gatekeeper, who soon bled to death. The archbishop was
horror-stricken, settled an annuity upon the widow, and to the close of
his life observed Tuesday, the day of the accident, as a weekly fast.
This occurrence raised a hot dispute in the Church as to whether the
archbishop, by having blood on his hands, had become incapable of
discharging the duties of his sacred office. He retired to his hospital
at Guildford while the inquiry was conducted, was ultimately
exonerated, and in 1625 died. This hospital is built around a small
quadrangle, and in its gateway-tower the unfortunate "King Monmouth" was
lodged on his last journey from Sedgemoor to London. Abbot, according to
the inscription on the walls, founded this charity for "a master, twelve
brethren, and eight sisters"--all to be unmarried and not less than
sixty years of age, and chosen from Guildford, preference to be given to
"such as have borne office or been good traders in the town, or such as
have been soldiers sent, and who have ventured their lives or lost their
blood for their prince and country." The number of inmates is now
increased, the endowment having accumulated. Guildford used to maintain
the piety of its people by requiring that all should attend church and
listen to a sermon, or else be fined a shilling. Over on the other side
of the valley, on a grassy spur protruding from the Hog's Back, are the
ruins of St. Catharine's Chapel, built in the fourteenth century. The
local tradition tells that this and St. Martha's Chapel, on an adjacent
hill, were built by two sister-giantesses, who worked with a single
hammer, which they flung from hill to hill to each other as required.
St. Catharine's Chapel long since fell in ruins, and not far away on the
slope, St. Catharine's Spring flows perennially. On Albury Down is a
residence of the Duke of Northumberland, Albury Park, laid out in the
seventeenth century by John Evelyn, famous for his devotion to rural
beauties, and the residence during the present century of Henry
Drummond, the banker, politician, and theologian, the most caustic
critic of his time in Parliament, and the great promoter of the Church
of the Second Advent.



A few miles to the westward, near Farnborough, over the border in
Hampshire, is Aldershot Camp, permanently established there in 1854. The
Basingstoke Canal flows through a plateau elevated about three hundred
and twenty feet above the sea, and divides the location into a north and
south camp, the latter occupying much the larger surface and containing
most of the public buildings. On a central hillock covered by clumps of
fir trees are the headquarters of the general in command when the troops
are being exercised and going through their manoeuvres. The Long
Valley stretches to the westward, terminating in a steep hill rising six
hundred feet, from which the best view of the military movements is had
on a field-day. The two camps cover about seven square miles, and they
commonly contain about twelve thousand troops during the season for the
manoeuvres. There are long rows of wooden huts for the soldiers, and
there are also barracks, hospitals, and other necessary buildings, the
cost of the establishment of this military dépôt having exceeded
$7,000,000 already. The annual reviews take place from June to
September, the regiments of volunteers being detailed in turn to
co-operate with the regular troops, so as to gain a practical knowledge
of military duties.


[Illustration: LEITH HILL.]


Proceeding eastward along the chalk-hills for about twelve miles, we
come to the breach made in them by the valley of the Mole for the
passage of that strange little river. Here, however, appears a second
and parallel range of hills, distant about four miles, the long and
generally flat-topped ridge culminating in the commanding summit of
Leith Hill. This is the highest ground in this part of England, rising
nearly one thousand feet, a broad summit sloping gradually down towards
the north, but presenting to the south a steep and, in places, a
precipitous ascent. At its foot is the residence known as Leith Hill
Place, where Mr. Hull lived in the last century, and built the tower for
an outlook that crowns its summit, leaving orders in his will that he
should be buried there. The tower was partially burned in 1877, but has
been restored. The view from the top of Leith Hill is grand, although it
takes some exertion to get there, and it discloses a panorama of typical
English scenery over the white chalk-downs, dappled with green and the
darker woodland, with the Thames lowlands far away to the north, while
to the southward the land falls abruptly to the great valley of the
Weald, a plain of rich red earth, with woods and grainfields and
hedgerows stretching away to the dim line of the South Downs at the
horizon. Pleasant little villas and old-time comfortable farm-houses are
dotted all about with their dovecotes and outbuildings. To the eastward
is the Redlands Wood, crowned by a tall silver fir, and just beyond is
Holmwood Common, whereon donkeys graze and flocks of geese patiently
await the September plucking. Here, at Holmwood Park, is one of those
ancient yet still populous dovecotes that contribute so much to enhance
the beauties of English rural scenery.


Dorking lies in the valley of the Mole, just south of the high
chalk-ranges, at the foot of wooded hills, and with its bordering
meadows stretching out to the river-bank. It is an ancient town,
appearing in the Domesday Book under the name of Dorchinges, and
standing on the route which Julius Cæsar took through these hills on his
invasion of Britain. After the Norman Conquest the manor became the
property of Earl Warrenne, and as a favorite halting-place on the road
between London and the south coast in the Middle Ages it throve greatly
and was noted for the number of its inns. Its chief street--High
Street--runs parallel with the chalk-hills, and presents a picturesque
variety of old-time houses, though none are of great pretensions. Among
them is the long, low structure, with a quaint entrance-gate in the
middle, suggestive of the days before railroads, and known as the "White
Horse Inn." The ancient "Cardinal's Cap" has been transformed into the
"Red Lion Inn," and the "Old King's Head," the most famous of these
hostelries, has been removed to make room for the post-office. This
latter inn was the original of "The Marquis of Granby, Dorking," where
that substantial person, Mr. Weller, Senior, lived, and under the sway
of Mrs. Weller the veteran coachman smoked his pipe and practised
patience, while the "shepherd" imbibed hot pineapple rum and water and
dispensed spiritual consolation to the flock. An old stage-coachman who
lived years ago at Dorking is said to have been Dickens's original for
this celebrated character, and the townsfolk still talk of the venerable
horse-trough that stood in front of the inn wherein the bereaved
landlord immersed Mr. Stiggins's head after kicking him out of the bar.

The parish church is the only public building of any pretension in
Dorking, and it is quite new, replacing another structure whose
registers go back to the sixteenth century, containing, among other
curious entries, the christening in 1562 of a child whose fate is
recorded in these words: "Who, scoffing at thunder, standing under a
beech, was stroke to death, his clothes stinking with a sulphurous
stench, being about the age of twenty years or thereabouts, at Mereden
House." The Dorking fowls all have the peculiarity of an extra claw on
each foot, being white and speckled, and a Roman origin being claimed
for the breed, which is most delicate in flavor and commands a high
price. On the southern outskirts of the town is Deepdene, a mansion
surrounded by magnificent trees and standing on the slope of a hill. It
was the home of the Hopes, its late owner, H. T. Hope, having been the
author of the novel _Anastasius_. He was a zealous patron of art, and
first brought Thorwaldsen into public notice by commissioning him to
execute his "Jason" in marble. The house contains many rare gems of
sculpture, including Canova's "Venus Rising from the Bath," with
paintings by Raphael, Paul Veronese, and others. It was here that
Disraeli wrote the greater part of _Coningsby_. A _dene_ or glade
opening near the house gives the place its name, the grounds being
extensive and displaying gardens and fine woods. The scenery of this
glade is beautiful, while from the terrace at the summit of the hill,
where there is a Doric temple, a magnificent view can be had far away
over the lowlands. Deepdene is attractive both within and without, for
its grand collection of art-treasures vies with Nature in affording
delight to the visitor. The ruins of Betchworth Castle, built four
hundred years ago, are alongside the Mole. "The soft windings of the
silent Mole" around Betchworth furnished a theme for Thomson, while
Milton calls it "the sullen Mole that runneth underneath," and Pope,
"the sullen Mole that hides his diving flood." Spenser has something to
say of the

  "----Mole, that like a nousling mole doth make
  His way still underground till Thames he overtake."

This peculiarity comes from the river hiding itself under Box Hill,
where, after disappearing for about two miles, it comes bubbling up out
of the ground again. This disappearance of streams in hilly regions is
not unusual. Box Hill, beneath whose slopes the Mole passes, is part of
the great chalk-range rising steeply on the eastern side of the gap
where the river-valley breaks through. Its summit is elevated four
hundred feet, the hill being densely wooded and containing large
plantations of box, whence its name. One of these box-groves covers two
hundred and thirty acres. On the brow of Box Hill, Major Labillière, a
singular character, was buried in 1800. He lived in Dorking, and,
becoming convinced that the world had been turned topsy-turvy, selected
his grave, and gave instructions that he should be buried head downward,
so that at the final setting right of mundane affairs he would rise
correctly. In the Mole Valley, at the base of Box Hill, at a pretty
little house called the "Fox and Hounds," Keats finished his poem of
_Endymion_, and here Lord Nelson spent his last days in England before
leaving on the expedition that closed with his greatest victory and
death at Trafalgar.

Upon the hill on the western side of the gap is the Denbies, from which
there is a view all the way to London. At the back of this high hill is
Ranmore Common. The Denbies are the scene of the "Battle of Dorking,"
having been held by the English defensive army in that imaginary and
disastrous conflict wherein German invaders land upon the southern
coasts, destroy the British fleets by torpedoes, triumphantly march to
the base of the chalk-ranges, fight a terrific battle, force their way
through the gaps in the hills, capture London, and dethrone England from
her high place among the great powers of Europe. This was a summer-time
magazine article, written to call English attention to the necessity of
looking after the national defences; and it had a powerful effect.
Westward of Dorking there is fine scenery, amid which is the little
house known as the "Rookery," where Malthus the political economist was
born in 1766. Wotton Church stands alongside the road near by, almost
hid by aged trees--a building of various dates, with a porch and stunted
tower. Here John Evelyn was taught when a child, and the graves of his
family are in a chapel opening from the north aisle. Wotton House, where
Evelyn lived, is in the adjacent valley and at the foot of the famous
Leith Hill. His favorite pastime was climbing up the hill to see over
the dozen counties the view discloses, with the sea far away to the
southward on the Sussex coast. The house is an irregular brick building
of various dates, the earliest parts built in Elizabethan days, and it
contains many interesting relics of Evelyn, whose diary has contributed
so much to English history from the reign of Charles I. to Queen Anne.
He was a great botanist, and has left a prominent and valuable work in
_Sylva_, his treatise on trees. It was to the north-west of Wotton, on
a tract of common known as Evershed Rough, that Bishop Samuel
Wilberforce, while riding with Earl Granville in 1873, was thrown from
the saddle by his stumbling horse, and striking the ground with his head
was almost immediately killed. A cross marks the sad and lonely spot.


[Illustration: PIERREPONT, SURREY.]

On the northern verge of the chalk-downs, and about fifteen miles south
of London, is the famous race-course at Epsom, whither much of London
goes for a holiday on the "Derby Day." Epsom is a large and rather
rambling town located in a depression in the hills, and two hundred
years ago was a fashionable resort for its medicinal waters, so that it
soon grew from a little village to a gay watering-place. Its water was
strongly impregnated with sulphate of magnesia, making the Epsom salts
of the druggist, and also with small quantities of the chlorides of
magnesium and calcium. None of these salts are now made at Epsom, they
being manufactured artificially in large amounts at a low price. The
Epsom well, however, that produced the celebrated waters, still remains
on the common near the town. From a watering-place Epsom became
transformed into a race-ground about a hundred years ago. There is a two
days' meeting in April, but the great festival comes in May, continuing
four days from Tuesday to Friday before Whitsuntide, unless Easter is in
March, when it occurs in the week after Whitsunday. Wednesday is the
grand day, when a vast crowd gathers to witness the Derby race,
established in 1780 and named from the Earl of Derby's seat at
Woodmansterne, near by. This is a race of a mile and a half for
three-year olds. The Oaks Stakes are run for on Friday over the same
course, but for three-year-old fillies only. This race is named from
Lambert's Oaks, near the neighboring village of Banstead. The race-hill
is elevated about five hundred feet above the sea, and the grand stand,
which is the most substantial in England, affords magnificent views,
stretching far away beyond Windsor Castle and the dome of St. Paul's in
London. Epsom Downs on the Derby Day show the great annual festival of
England, but at other times the town is rather quiet, though its Spread
Eagle Inn is usually a head-quarters for the racing fraternity.


The ruins of Reigate Castle are a short distance south of Epsom, the
pretty village of Reigate standing near the head of the lovely Holmsdale
on the southern verge of the chalk-ranges. Beautiful views and an
unending variation of scenery make this an attractive resort. Surrey is
full of pleasant places, disclosing quaint old houses that bring down to
us the architecture of the time of Elizabeth and the days of the "good
Queen Anne." Some of these buildings, which so thoroughly exemplify the
attractions of the rural homes of England, are picturesque and
noteworthy. As specimens of many we present Pierrepoint House and
Longfield, East Sheen. These are the old models now being reproduced by
modern architects, combining novelty without and comfort within, and
they are just far enough from London to make them pleasant
country-houses, with all the advantage of city luxuries.


Proceeding eastward along the chalk-downs and over the border into Kent,
we reach the Wealden formation, the "wooded land" of that county--so
named by the Saxons--which stretches between the North and South Downs,
the chalk-formations bordering this primeval forest, but now almost
entirely transformed into a rich agricultural country. The Weald is a
region of great fertility and high cultivation, still bearing numerous
copses of well-grown timber, the oak being the chief, and furnishing in
times past the material for many of its substantial oaken houses. The
little streams that meander among the undulating hills of this
attractive region are nearly all gathered together to form the Medway,
which flows past Maidstone to join the Thames. It was the portions of
the Weald around Goudhurst that were memorable for the exploits of
Radford and his band, the originals of G. P. R. James's _Smugglers_.
Goudhurst church-tower, finely located on one of the highest hills of
the Wealden region, gives a grand view on all sides, especially to the
southward over Mr. Beresford Hope's seat at Bedgebury Park. In this old
church of St. Mary are buried the Bedgeburys and the Colepeppers. Their
ancient house, surrounded by a moat, has been swept away, and the
present mansion was built in the seventeenth century out of the proceeds
of a sunken Spanish treasure-ship, Sir James Hayes, who built the house,
having gone into a speculation with Lord Falkland and others to recover
the treasure. This origin of Bedgebury House is recorded on its
foundation-stone: it has been greatly enlarged by successive owners, and
is surrounded by ornamental gardens and grounds, with a park of wood,
lake, and heather covering two thousand acres. In the neighboring church
of Kilndown, Field-marshal Beresford, the former owner of Bedgebury,
reposes in a canopied sepulchre. Just to the eastward is Cranbrook, the
chief market-town of the Weald, the ancient sanctuary of the Anabaptists
and the historical centre of the Flemish cloth-trade, which used to be
carried on by the "old gray-coats of Kent." Their descendants still live
in the old-time factories, which have been converted into handsome
modern houses. Edward III. first induced the Flemings to settle in Kent
and some other parts of England, and from his reign until the last
century the broadcloth manufacture concentrated at Cranbrook. When Queen
Elizabeth once visited the town she was entertained at a manor about a
mile from Cranbrook, and walked thence into the town upon a carpet, laid
down the whole way, made of the same cloth that her loyal men of Kent
wore on their backs. In Cranbrook Church were held the fierce
theological disputes of Queen Mary's reign which resulted in the
imprisonment of the Anabaptists and other dissenters by Chancellor
Baker. Over the south porch is the chamber with grated windows known as
"Bloody Baker's Prison." Among the old customs surviving at Cranbrook is
that which strews the path of the newly-wedded couple as they leave the
church with emblems of the bridegroom's trade. The blacksmith walks upon
scraps of iron, the shoemaker on leather parings, the carpenter on
shavings, and the butcher on sheepskins. In an adjacent glen almost
surrounded by woods are the ruins of Sissinghurst, where Chancellor
Baker lived and built the stately mansion of Saxenhurst, from which the
present name of its ruins is derived. The artists Horsley and Webster
lived at Sissinghurst and Cranbrook for many years, and found there
frequent subjects of rustic study. The Sissinghurst ruins are
fragmentary, excepting the grand entrance, which is well preserved.
Baker's Cross survives to mark the spot where the Anabaptists had a
skirmish with their great enemy; and the legend is that he was killed
there, though history asserts that this theological warrior died in his
bed peaceably some time afterwards in London.


Near Lamberhurst, on the Surrey border and on the margin of the Teise,
is the Marquis of Camden's seat at Bayham Abbey. Its ruins include a
church, a gateway, and some of the smaller buildings. It was once highly
attractive, though small, and its ruined beauty is now enhanced by the
care with which the ivy is trained over the walls and the greensward
floor is smoothed. Ralph de Dene founded this abbey about the year 1200,
and after the dissolution Queen Elizabeth granted it to Viscount
Montague. It was bought in the last century by Chief-Justice Pratt,
whose son, the chancellor, became Marquis of Camden. The modern mansion
is a fine one, and from it a five-mile walk through the woods leads to
Tunbridge on the Medway. Chief among the older remains of this
pleasantly-located and popular town is Tunbridge Castle, its keep having
stood upon a lofty mound above the river. This "Norman Mound," as it is
called, is now capped with ruined walls, and an arched passage leads
from it to the upper story of the elaborate gate-house, still in
excellent preservation. Richard Fitzgilbert built the keep, and ruled
the "League of Tunbridge," but his castle, after a long siege by Henry
III., was taken away from his successor, who assumed the name of Gilbert
de Clare. From the De Clares the stronghold passed to the Audleys and
Staffords, and it is now held by Lord Stafford. The gate-house is a fine
structure, square in form, with round towers at each corner. The ruins
are richly adorned with mouldings and other decorations, and within is a
handsome state-apartment. Tunbridge is a quiet town, standing where five
of the tributaries of the Medway come together, over which it has as
many stone bridges. One of these streams, the Tun, gives the town its
name. In St. Stephen's Church, a badly mutilated building with a fine
spire, many of the De Clares are buried, and the quaint half-timbered
building of the "Chequers Inn" helps maintain the picturesque appearance
of the Tunbridge High Street. The spa of Tunbridge Wells, with its
chalybeate springs and baths, is a few miles southward, but the days of
its greatest glory have passed away, though fashion to a moderate extent
still haunts its pump-room and parade. This famous watering-place
stands in a contracted valley enclosed by the three hills known as Mount
Ephraim, Mount Zion, and Mount Pleasant.

[Illustration: TUNBRIDGE CASTLE.]

[Illustration: PENSHURST PLACE.]

[Illustration: PENSHURST CHURCH.]

To the westward of Tunbridge, and in the Medway Valley, is Penshurst,
celebrated as the home of Sir Philip Sidney--a grand, gray old house,
built at many periods, begun in the fourteenth century and not completed
until a few years ago. It is a pretty English picture within a setting
of wooded hills and silver rivers, the pattern from which Sidney drew
his description of "Laconia" in _Arcadia_. The buildings, particularly
their window-heads, are ornamented with the tracery peculiar to Kent.
The great hall, the earliest of these buildings, has a characteristic
open-timber roof, while its minstrel-gallery, fronted by a wainscot
screen, is ornamented with the badge of the Dudleys, the "bear and
ragged staff." Within these halls are the family portraits of a noble
lineage. Of Mary, daughter of Sir Henry Sidney and heiress of Sir John
Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, Ben Jonson wrote this epitaph:

  "Underneath this sable hearse
  Lies, the subject of all verse,
  Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother.
  Death! ere thou hast slain another
  Learned and fair and good as she,
  Time shall throw a dart at thee."

Sir Philip Sidney was her brother, born at Penshurst in 1554. The estate
came through various owners, until, in the reign of Henry II., it was
granted to Sir William Sidney, who commanded a wing of the victorious
English at Flodden. Sir Philip, we are told, would have been King of
Poland had not Queen Elizabeth interposed, "lest she should lose the
jewel of her times." Algernon Sidney, beheaded on Tower Hill, was his
descendant. Penshurst is now held by Baron de l'Isle, to whom it has
descended through marriage. On the estate stands the quaint old
Penshurst Church with its ivy-covered porch. The Eden River falls into
the Medway near Penshurst, and alongside its waters is the well-known
castellated residence which still survives from the Tudor days, Hever
Castle, where, it is said, Anne Boleyn was born. Sir Geoffrey Boleyn,
her great-grandfather, who was Lord Mayor of London in the reign of
Henry VI., began Hever Castle, which was completed by his grandson,
Anne's father. It was at Hever that King Henry wooed her. The house is a
quadrangle, with high pitched roofs and gables and surrounded by a
double moat, and is now a farm-house. Here they show the visitor Anne
Boleyn's rooms, and also the chamber where her successor, Anne of
Cleves, is said to have died, though this is doubted. King Henry,
however, seized the estate of Hever from his earlier wife's family, and
granted it to his subsequently discarded consort after he separated from
her. Northward of Tunbridge, and near Sevenoaks, is Knole, the home of
the family of Hon. L. S. Sackville-West, the present British minister at
Washington. It is one of the most interesting baronial mansions in
England, enclosed by a park five miles in circumference.

[Illustration: HEVER CASTLE.]


Proceeding eastward towards the outskirts of the Weald, we come to Leeds
Castle, once the great central fortress of Kent. Standing in a
commanding position, it held the road leading to Canterbury and the
coast, and it dates probably from the Norman Conquest. Its moat
surrounds three islands, from which, as if from the water, rise its
walls and towers. This castle is now the residence of Mr. Wykeham Martin
and contains many valuable antiquities. Also near the eastern border of
the Weald is Tenterden, famous for its church-steeple, which Bishop
Latimer has invested with a good story. The bishop in a sermon said that
Sir Thomas More was once sent into Kent to learn the cause of the
Goodwin Sands and the obstructions to Sandwich Haven. He summoned
various persons of experience, and among others there "came in before
him an olde man with a white head, and one that was thought to be little
lesse than an hundereth yeares olde. When Maister More saw this aged man
he thought it expedient to hear him say his minde in this matter, for
being so olde a man, it was likely he knew most of any man in that
presence and company. So Maister More called this olde aged man unto
him, and sayd, 'Father, tell me if ye can what is the cause of this
great arising of the sande and shelfs here about this haven, the which
stop it up that no shippes can arrive here. Ye are the oldest man that I
can espie in all this companye, so that, if any man can tell any cause
of it, ye of likelihode can say most in it, or at leastwise more than
any man here assembled.'--'Yea, forsooth, good master,' quod this olde
man, 'for I am wellnigh an hundreth years olde, and no man here in this
companye anything neare unto mine age.'--'Well, then,' quod Maister
More, 'how say you in this matter? What think ye to be the cause of
these shelfs and flattes that stop up Sandwich Haven?'--'Forsooth, syr,'
quoth he, 'I am an olde man; I think that Tenterton Steeple is the cause
of Goodwin Sandes. For I am an olde man, syr,' quod he, 'and I may
remember the building of Tenterton Steeple, and I may remember when
there was no steeple at all there. And before that Tenterton Steeple was
a-building there was no manner of speaking of any flattes or sandes that
stopped the haven; and, therefore, I thinke that Tenterton Steeple is
the cause of the destroying and decaying of Sandwich Haven.' And even so
to my purpose," says Latimer in conclusion, "is preaching of God's worde
the cause of rebellion, as Tenterton Steeple is a cause that Sandwich
Haven is decayed." Now this "olde aged man" had some excuse for his
theory in the Kentish tradition, which says that the abbot of St.
Augustine, who built the steeple, used for it the stones collected to
strengthen the sea-wall of Goodwin Sands, then part of the main land.
The next storm submerged the district, of which the Goodwins are the
remains, and thus the steeple caused the quicksands, according to the
Kentish theory.


Proceeding down the Medway, it flows past the city of Rochester, the
river being crowded with vessels and crossed here by a bridge with a
swinging draw. Rochester has a fine old cathedral, rather dilapidated,
and in part restored, but its chief attraction is the castle towering
above the river, its Norman keep forming a tower over seventy feet
square and rising one hundred feet high, its masonry disclosing vast
strength and impressive massiveness. Cobham Hall, the residence of Earl
Darnley, is near Rochester, standing in a nobly wooded park seven miles
in circumference. Just north of Cobham Park is Gad's Hill, where Charles
Dickens lived. Beyond Rochester the powerful modern defensive work of
Fort Pitt rises over Chatham to defend the Medway entrance and that
important dockyard. The town is chiefly a bustling street about two
miles long. The dockyard is one of the largest in England, and its
defensive works, as yet incomplete, will when finished make it a
powerful fortress, there being several outlying batteries and works
still to complete. The Gun Wharf contains a large park of artillery, and
there are barracks for three thousand men extending along the river.
There is also an extensive convict-prison with two thousand inmates, who
work upon the dock extension and at making bricks for its construction.
Chatham has several military and naval hospitals. Opposite the dockyard
is Upnor Castle, used as a powder-magazine and torpedo-school. This
castle, the original defensive work of Chatham, was bombarded by Van
Tromp when he came up the Medway in Charles II.'s reign--an audacity for
which he was afterwards punished. The suburb of Brompton is completely
enveloped by the forts and buildings of the post, contains barracks and
hospitals for five thousand men, and is also the head-quarters of the
Royal Engineers.

[Illustration: ROCHESTER CASTLE.]


[Illustration: CANTERBURY.]

Leaving the estuary of the Medway, still farther east in Kent, in the
vale of the Stour, is the ancient cathedral city of Canterbury, whereof
Rimmer says it "is one of the most delightful cities in England for an
antiquary." Its cathedral is approached through the quaint narrow street
of Mercery Lane, where once stood the Checquers Inn that was the resort
of Chaucer's pilgrims. At the end of this lane is the principal entrance
to the cathedral close--Prior Goldsmith's Gate, commonly called Christ
Church Gate, built in 1517: it was formerly surmounted by turrets, but
these have been partly taken down. The arms of Becket are carved upon
the gateway, and beyond it rise the gray towers of the venerable
cathedral. On the east side of the close is Broad Street, where part of
the old city-walls are still preserved. This was the site of St.
Augustine's monastery, and Lanfranc, the first archbishop after the
Conquest, rebuilt the cathedral church, which was continued by his
successor, Anselm. It was in this church that Becket was murdered in
1170, and "in the glorious choir of Conrad" his corpse was watched by
the monks on the following night. This choir was burned down four years
later, but afterwards rebuilt. The present cathedral consists of work
extending from Lanfranc's time until that of Prior Goldstone in the
fifteenth century, thus exhibiting specimens of all the schools of
Gothic architecture. Canterbury Cathedral is among the largest churches
in England, being five hundred and twenty-two feet long, and its
principal entrance is by the south porch. The nave is striking, and in
the choir the eye is immediately attracted by its great length, one
hundred and eighty feet--the longest in the kingdom--and by the singular
bend with which the walls at the eastern end approach each other. The
architecture is antique, and the interior produces an impression of
great solemnity. The north-western transept is known as the Transept of
the Martyrdom, where Becket was slain just after Christmas by four
knights in 1170. A small square piece cut out of one of the flagstones
marks the spot, and there still remain the door leading from the
cloisters by which Becket and the knights entered the cathedral, and the
part of the wall in front of which the assassinated archbishop fell.
There is an attractive window in this transept, the gift of Edward IV.
The cathedral is full of monuments, and in Trinity Chapel, behind the
choir, where Becket had sung his first mass when installed as
archbishop, was the location chosen for his shrine, but it long ago
disappeared. Here is also the monument of Edward the Black Prince, with
his effigy in brass, and suspended above it his helmet, shield,
sword-scabbard, and gauntlets. Henry IV. is also buried in Canterbury,
with his second wife, Joan of Navarre; Cardinal Pole is entombed here;
and in the south-western transept is the singular tomb of Langton,
archbishop in the days of Magna Charta, the stone coffin so placed that
the head alone appears through the wall. In the crypt was Becket's tomb,
which remained there until 1220, and at it occurred the penance and
scourging of Henry II. The cathedral has two fine western towers, the
northern one, however, not having been finished until recently. The
central tower, known as "Bell Harry," rises two hundred and thirty-five
feet, and is a magnificent example of Perpendicular Gothic. In the close
are interesting remains of St. Augustine's Monastery, including its fine
entrance-gate and guest-hall, now part of St. Augustine's College, one
of the most elaborate modern structures in Canterbury. The monastery had
been a brewery, but was bought in 1844 by Mr. Beresford Hope and devoted
to its present noble object. On the hill above St. Augustine, mounted by
the Longport road, is the "mother church of England," St. Martin's,
which had been a British Christian chapel before the Saxons came into
the island, and was made over to Augustine. The present building
occupies the site of the one he erected.

Close to the old city-wall is Canterbury Castle, its venerable Norman
keep being now used as the town gasworks. There are many old houses in
Canterbury, and its history has been traced back twenty-eight hundred
years. It was the Roman colony of Durovernum. Among its quaint houses is
the Falstaff Inn, still a comfortable and popular hostelrie, having a
sign-board supported by iron framework projecting far over the street.
Adjoining is the West Gate--the only one remaining of the six ancient
barriers of the city built by Archbishop Sudbury, who was killed in 1381
by Wat Tyler's rebels. This gate stands on the road from London to
Dover, and guards the bridge over a little branch of the Stour; the
foundations of the lofty flanking round towers are in the river-bed. The
gate-house was long used as a city prison. It was in this weird old city
that Chaucer located many of his Canterbury Tales, that give such an
insight into the customs of his time. The landlord of the Tabard Inn in
Southwark, whose guests were of all ranks, proposed a journey to
Canterbury after dinner, he to adjudge the best story any of them told
on the road. Chaucer's characters were all cleverly drawn and lifelike,
while his innkeeper was a man of evidently high "social status," and, as
he himself said, "wise and well taught." The Stour flows on to the sea,
whose generally low shores are not far away, with the Isle of Thanet to
the northward and London's watering-place of Ramsgate on its outer
verge. Here is Pegwell Bay, noted for its shrimps, and a short distance
westward from Ramsgate is Osengal Hill, from which there is a fine view,
the summit being covered by the graves of the first Saxon settlers of
Thanet. To the northward a short distance is the sister watering-place
of Margate, near the north-eastern extremity of Thanet and ninety miles
from London: its pier is nine hundred feet long. On the extremity of
Thanet, about three miles from Margate, is the great lighthouse of the
North Foreland.



Off the mouth of the Stour and the Goodwin Sands, and thence down the
coast to Dover, is the narrowest part of the strait between England and
France. This is a coast, therefore, that needed defence from the
earliest times, and the cliff-castles and earthworks still remaining
show how well it was watched. The Romans carefully fortified the entire
line of cliffs from the Goodwin Sands to Beachy Head beyond Hastings.
There were nine fortresses along the coast, which in later times were
placed under control of a high official known as the "Count of the Saxon
Shore," whose duty was to protect this part of England against the
piratical attacks of the Northern sea-rovers. These fortresses commanded
the chief harbors and landing-places, and they marked the position of
the famous Cinque Ports, whose fleet was the germ of the British navy.
They were not thus named until after the Norman Conquest, when John de
Fiennes appeared as the first warden. The Cinque Ports of later English
history were Sandwich, Dover, Hythe, Romney, and Hastings, each of which
had its minor ports or "limbs," such as Deal, Walmer, Folkestone, Rye,
Winchelsea, and Pevensey, that paid tribute to the head port and enjoyed
part of its franchises. The duty of the Cinque Ports was to furnish
fifty-seven ships whenever the king needed them, and he supplied part of
the force to man them. In return the ports were given great freedom and
privileges; their people were known as "barons," were represented in
Parliament, and at every coronation bore the canopy over the sovereign,
carrying it on silver staves having small silver bells attached. The
canopy was usually afterwards presented to Becket's shrine at
Canterbury, and its bearers after the coronation dined in Westminster
Hall at the king's right hand. But the glory of these redoubtable Cinque
Ports has departed. Dover is the only one remaining in active service;
Sandwich, Hythe, and Romney are no longer ports at all; while Hastings
is in little better condition. The tides have gradually filled their
shallow harbors with silt. Of the "limbs," or lesser ports, two,
Winchelsea and Pevensey, are now actually inland towns, the sea having
completely retired from them. Such has also been the fate of Sandwich,
which in the time of Canute was described as the most famous harbor of
England. The coast has greatly changed, the shallow bays beyond the old
shore-line, which is still visible, being raised into green meadows. In
this way the water-course that made Thanet an island has been closed.



This silting up began at a remote era, closing one port after another,
and Sandwich rose upon their decline. It is the most ancient of the
Cinque Ports, and existed as a great harbor until about the year 1500,
when it too began to silt up. In a century it was quite closed, traffic
had passed away, and the town had assumed the fossilized appearance
which is now chiefly remarked about it. Sandwich lingers as it existed
in the Plantagenet days, time having mouldered it into quaint condition.
Trees grow from the tops of the old walls, and also intrude upon the
deep ditch with its round towers at the angles. Large open spaces,
gardens, and orchards lie between the houses within the walls of the
city. Going through the old gateway leading to the bridge crossing the
Stour, a little church is found, with its roof tinted with yellowish
lichens, and a bunch of houses below it covered with red, time-worn
tiles, and the still and sleepy river near by. This was the very gate of
that busy harbor which four centuries ago was the greatest in England
and the resort of ships from all parts of the then known world. Its
customs dues yielded $100,000 annually at the small rates imposed, and
the great change that has been wrought can be imagined, as the visitor
looks out over the once famous harbor to find it a mass of green meadows
with venerable trees growing here and there. Sandwich has no main
street, its winding, narrow and irregular passage-ways being left
apparently to chance to seek out their routes, while a mass of houses is
crushed together within the ancient walls, with church-towers as the
only landmarks. These churches give the best testimony to the former
wealth and importance of the town, the oldest being that of St. Clement,
who was the patron of the seafarers. This church is rather large, with a
central tower, while the pavement contains many memorials of the rich
Sandwich merchants in times long agone. St. Peter's Church remains only
as a fragment; its tower has fallen and destroyed the south aisle. It
contains a beautiful tomb erected to one of the former wardens of the
Cinque Ports. The old code of laws of Sandwich, which still survives,
shows close pattern after the Baltic towns of the Hanseatic League.
Female criminals were drowned in the Guestling Brook, which falls into
the Stour; others were buried alive in the "thief duns" near that
stream. Close by the old water-gate of Sandwich is the Barbican, and
from it a short view across the marshes discloses the ancient Roman town
of Rutupiæ and the closed-up port of Ebbsfleet, where Hengist and Horsa
are said to have first landed. Here was the oyster-ground of the Romans,
who loved the bivalves as well as their successors of to-day. Of the
walls of the Roman town there still remain extensive traces, disclosing
solid masonry of great thickness, composed of layers of rough boulders
encased externally with regular courses of squared Portland stone. There
are square towers at intervals along these walls, with loopholed
apartments for the sentinels. Vast numbers of Roman coins have been
found in and around this ancient city, over one hundred and forty
thousand, it is said, having come to light, belonging to the decade
between 287 and 297, when Britain was an independent Roman island.
Passing southward along the coast, we skirt the natural harbor of the
Downs, a haven of refuge embracing about twenty square miles of safe
anchorage, and bounded on the east by the treacherous Goodwin Sands,
where Shakespeare tells us "the carcase of many a tall ship lies
buried." It is possible at low water to visit and walk over portions of
these shoals. They are quicksands of such character that if a ship
strikes upon them she will in a few days be completely swallowed up.
Modern precautions, however, have rendered them less formidable than
formerly. The great storm of 1703, that destroyed the Eddystone
Lighthouse, wrecked thirteen war-ships on the Goodwins, nearly all their
crews perishing. As we look out over them from the low shores at Deal
and Walmer below Sandwich, or the chalk-cliffs of Dover beyond, a fringe
of breakers marks their line, while nearer the coast merchant-ships at
anchor usually crowd the Downs. In Walmer Castle was the official
residence of the lord warden of the Cinque Ports, an office that is soon
to be abolished, and which many famous men have held. Here lived Pitt,
and here died the Duke of Wellington, closing his great career.


Beyond, the coast rises up from the low sandy level, and rounding the
South Foreland, on which is a fine electric lighthouse of modern
construction, we come to the chalk-cliffs, on top of which are the dark
towers of Dover Castle, from whose battlements the road descends to the
town along the water's edge and in the valley of the little stream that
gives the place its name--the Dour, which the Celts called the Dwr or
"water," and the Romans the Dubræ. The great keep of Dover dates from
William Rufus's reign, and is one of the many badges left in England of
the Norman Conquest. There are earthworks at Dover, however, of much
earlier origin, built for protection by the Celts and Romans, and
forming part of the chain that guarded this celebrated coast, of which
Dover, being at the narrowest part of the strait, was considered the
key. But no such Norman castle rises elsewhere on these shores. "It was
built by evil spirits," writes a Bohemian traveller in the fifteenth
century, "and is so strong that in no other part of Christendom can
anything be found like it." The northern turret on the keep rises four
hundred and sixty-eight feet above the sea at the base of the hill, and
from it can be had a complete observation of both the English and French
coasts for many miles. Within the castle is the ancient Pharos, or
watch-tower, a Roman work. Over upon the opposite side of the harbor is
Shakespeare's Cliff,

  "----whose high and bending head
  Looks fearfully on the confined deep."


There is no more impressive view in England than that from the Castle
Hill of Dover, with the green fields and white chalk headlands
stretching far away on either hand fringed by the breakers, the hills
and harbors faintly seen across the strait in France, and the busy town
of Dover lying at the foot of the cliff. This is half watering-place and
half port of transit to the opposite coast. Its harbor is almost
entirely artificial, and there has been much difficulty in keeping it
open. That there is any port there now at all is due mainly to Raleigh's
advice, and there is at present a well-protected harbor of refuge, with
a fine pier extending nearly a half mile into the sea, with a fort at
the outer end. From the top of the hill there looks down upon this pier
the Saluting-Battery Gate of the castle, within which is kept that
curious specimen of ancient gunnery known as "Queen Elizabeth's Pocket

[Illustration: SALUTING BATTERY.]

Farther down the coast is the ancient "limb" of Dover, which has grown
into the rival port of Folkestone. This modern port, created to aid the
necessities of travel across the Channel, stands at the north-eastern
corner of the Romney Marsh, a district that has been raised out of the
sea and is steadily increasing in front of the older coast-line, shown
by a range of hills stretching westward from Folkestone. This marsh has
made the sea retreat fully three miles from Hythe, whose name signifies
"the harbor," though it is now an inland village, with a big church
dedicated to St. Leonard, the deliverer of captives, who was always
much reverenced in the Cinque Ports, their warlike sailors being
frequently taken prisoner. In a crypt under its chancel is a large
collection of skulls and bones, many of them bearing weapon scars and
cuts, showing them to be relics of the wars. Beyond Hythe the Rother
originally flowed into the Channel, but a great storm in the reign of
Edward I. silted up its outlet, and the river changed its course over
towards Rye, so as to avoid the Cinque port of Romney that was
established on the western edge of the marshes to which it gave the
name. Romney is now simply a village without any harbor, and of the five
churches it formerly had, only the church of St. Nicholas remains as a
landmark among the fens that have grown up around it, an almost treeless
plain intersected by dykes and ditches.


[Illustration: OLD HOUSES, RYE.]

The unpicturesque coast is thrust out into the sea to the point at
Dungeness where the lighthouse stands a beacon in a region full of peril
to the navigator; and then the coast again recedes to the cove wherein
is found the quaint old town of Rye, formerly an important "limb" of the
Cinque port of Hastings. It has about the narrowest and crookedest
streets in England, and the sea is two miles away from the line of steep
and broken rock along which "Old Rye" stretches. The ancient houses,
however, have a sort of harbor, formed by the junction of the three
rivers, the Rother, Brede, and Tillingham, and thus Rye supports quite a
fleet of fishing-craft. Thackeray has completely reproduced in _Denis
Duval_ the ancient character of this place, with its smuggling
atmosphere varied with French touches given by the neighborhood of the
Continent. Rye stands on one side of a marshy lowland, and Winchelsea
about three miles distant on the other side. The original Winchelsea, we
are told, was on lower ground, and, after frequent floodings, was
finally destroyed by an inundation in 1287. King Edward I. founded the
new town upon the hill above. It enjoyed a lucrative trade until the
fifteenth century, when, like most of the others, its prosperity was
blighted by the sea's retiring. The harbor then became useless, the
inhabitants left, the houses gradually disappeared, and, the historian
says, the more massive buildings remaining "have a strangely spectral
character, like owls seen by daylight." Three old gates remain,
including the Strand Gate, where King Edward nearly lost his life soon
after the town was built. It appears that the horse on which he was
riding, frightened by a windmill, leaped over the town-wall, and all
gave up the king for dead. Luckily, however, he kept his saddle, and the
horse, after slipping some distance down the incline, was checked, and
Edward rode safely back through the gate. There is a fine church in
Winchelsea--St. Thomas of Canterbury--within which are the tombs of
Gervase Alard and his grandson Stephen. They were the most noted sailors
of their time, and Gervase in 1300 was admiral of the fleet of the
Cinque Ports, his grandson Stephen appearing as admiral in 1324. These
were the earliest admirals known in England, the title, derived from the
Arabic _amir_, having been imported from Sicily. Gervase was paid two
shillings a day. At the house in Winchelsea called the "Friars" lived
the noted highwaymen George and Joseph Weston, who during the last
century plundered in all directions, and then atoned for it by the
exercise of extensive charity in that town: one of them actually became
a churchwarden.


The cliffs come out to the edge of the sea at Winchelsea, and it is a
pleasant walk along them to Hastings, with its ruined castle, the last
of the Cinque Ports. This was never as important a port as the others,
but the neighboring Sussex forests made it a convenient place for
shipbuilding. The castle ruins are the only antiques at Hastings, which
has been gradually transformed into a modern watering-place in a pretty
situation. Its eastern end, however, has undergone little transition,
and is still filled with the old-fashioned black-timber houses of the
fishermen. The battle of Hastings, whereby William the Conqueror planted
his standard on English soil, was fought about seven miles inland. His
ships debarked their troops all along this coast, while St. Valéry
harbor in France, from which he sailed, is visible in clear weather
across the Channel. William himself landed at Pevensey, farther
westward, where there is an old fortress of Roman origin located in the
walls of the ancient British-Roman town that the heathen Saxons had
long before attacked, massacring the entire population. Pevensey still
presents within these walls the Norman castle of the Eagle Honour, named
from the powerful house of Aquila once possessing it. The Bayeux
Tapestry depicts the landing of William at Pevensey, which was a "limb"
of Hastings. Its Roman name was Anderida, the walls enclosing an
irregular oval, the castle within being a pentagon, with towers at the
angles. Beyond it the Sussex coast juts out at the bold white chalk
promontory of Beachy Head.


A short distance inland from Pevensey is the great Sussex cattle-market
at Hailsham, where the old Michelham Priory is used as a farm-house and
its crypt as a dairy. Not far away is Hurstmonceux Castle, a relic of
the times of Henry VI., and built entirely of brick, being probably the
largest English structure of that material constructed since the Roman
epoch. Only the shell of the castle remains, an interesting and
picturesque specimen of the half fortress, half mansion of the latter
days of feudalism. The main gateway on the southern front has flanking
towers over eighty feet high, surmounted by watch-turrets from which the
sea is visible. The walls are magnificently overgrown with ivy,
contrasting beautifully with the red brick. Great trunks of ivy grow up
from the dining-room, and all the inner courts are carpeted with green
turf, with hazel-bushes appearing here and there among the ruined walls.
A fine row of old chestnuts stands beyond the moat, and from the towers
are distant views of Beachy Head, its white chalk-cliffs making one of
the most prominent landmarks of the southern coast.


Westward of Beachy Head is the noted watering-place of this southern
coast, Brighton, the favorite resort of the Londoners, it being but
fifty-one miles south of the metropolis. This was scarcely known as a
fashionable resort until about 1780, when George IV., then the Prince of
Wales, became its patron. Taken altogether, its large size, fine
buildings, excellent situation, and elaborate decorations make Brighton
probably the greatest sea-coast watering-place in Europe. It stretches
for over three miles along the Channel upon a rather low shore, though
in some places the cliffs rise considerably above the beach. Almost the
entire sea-front, especially to the eastward, is protected by a strong
sea-wall of an average height of sixty feet and twenty-three feet thick
at the base. This wall cost $500,000 to build, and it supports a
succession of terraces available for promenade and roadway. In front the
surf rolls in upon a rather steep pebbly beach, upon which are the
bathing-machines and boats. Along the beach, and behind the sea-wall,
Brighton has a grand drive, the Marine Parade, sixty feet wide,
extending for three miles along the shore and in front of the buildings,
with broad promenades on the sea-side ornamented with lawns and gardens,
and on the other side a succession of houses of such grand construction
as to resemble rows of palaces, built of the cream-colored Portland
stone. The houses of the town extend far back on the hillsides and into
the valleys, and the permanent population of 130,000 is largely
augmented during the height of the season--October, November, and
December. Enormous sums have been expended upon the decoration of this
great resort, and its Marine Parade, when fashion goes there in the
autumn, presents a grand scene. From this parade two great piers extend
out into the water, and are used for promenades, being, like the entire
city front, brilliantly illuminated at night. The eastern one is the
Chain Pier, built in 1823 at a cost of $150,000, and extending eleven
hundred and thirty-six feet into the sea. The West Pier, constructed
about fifteen years ago, is somewhat broader, and stretches out eleven
hundred and fifteen feet. Each of the piers expands into a wide platform
at the outer end, that of the West Pier being one hundred and forty feet
wide, and here bands play and there are brilliant illuminations. Both
piers are of great strength, and only four cents admission is charged to
them. Prince George built at Brighton a royal pavilion in imitation of
the pagodas of the Indies, embosomed in trees and surrounded by gardens.
This was originally the royal residence, but in 1850 the city bought it
for $265,000 as a public assembly-room. The great attraction of
Brighton, however, is the aquarium, the largest in the world, opened in
1872. It is constructed in front of the Parade, and, sunken below its
level, stretches some fourteen hundred feet along the shore, and is one
hundred feet wide, being surmounted by gardens and footwalks. It is
set at this low level to facilitate the movement of the sea-water, and
its design is to represent the fishes and marine animals as nearly as
possible in their native haunts and habits, to do which, and not startle
the fish, the visitors go through darkened passages, and are thus
concealed from them, all the light coming in by refraction through the
water. Their actions are thus natural, and they move about with perfect
freedom, some of the tanks being of enormous size. Here swim schools of
herring, mackerel, and porpoises as they do out at sea, the octopus
gyrates his arms, and almost every fish that is known to the waters of
that temperature is exhibited in thoroughly natural action. The tanks
have been prepared most elaborately. The porpoises and larger fish have
a range of at least one hundred feet, and rocks, savannahs, and
everything else they are accustomed to are reproduced. The visitors walk
through vaulted passages artistically decorated, and there is music to
gladden the ear. This aquarium also shows the processes of
fish-hatching, and has greatly increased the world's stock of knowledge
as to fish-habits. The tanks hold five hundred thousand gallons of fresh
and salt water.

Back of Brighton are the famous South Downs, the chalk-hills of Sussex,
which stretch over fifty miles parallel to the coast, and have a breadth
of four or five miles, while they rise to an average height of five
hundred feet, their highest point being Ditchling Beacon, north of
Brighton, rising eight hundred and fifty-eight feet. They disclose
picturesque scenery, and the railways from London wind through their
valleys and dart into the tunnels under their hills, whose tops disclose
the gyrating sails of an army of windmills, while over their slopes roam
the flocks of well-tended sheep that ultimately become the the
much-prized South Down mutton. The chalk-cliffs bordering the Downs
slope to the sea, and in front are numerous little towns, for the whole
coast is dotted with watering-places. A few miles east of Brighton is
the port of New Haven on a much-travelled route across the Channel to


To the westward of Brighton and in the South Downs is the antique
village of Steyning, near which is Rev. John Goring's home at Wiston
Manor, an Elizabethan mansion of much historical interest and commanding
views of extreme beauty. This is one of the most attractive places in
the South Downs, a grand park with noble trees, herds of deer wandering
over the grass, and the great ring of trees on top of Chanctonbury Hill,
planted in 1760. Charles Goring, the father of the present owner,
planted these trees in his early life, and sixty-eight years
afterwards, in 1828, he then being eighty-five years old, addressed
these lines to the hill:

  "How oft around thy Ring, sweet Hill, a boy I used to play,
  And form my plans to plant thy top on some auspicious day!
  How oft among thy broken turf with what delight I trod!
  With what delight I placed those twigs beneath thy maiden sod!
  And then an almost hopeless wish would creep within my breast:
  'Oh, could I live to see thy top in all its beauty dressed!'
  That time's arrived; I've had my wish, and lived to eighty-five;
  I'll thank my God, who gave such grace, as long as e'er I live;
  Still when the morning sun in spring, whilst I enjoy my sight,
  Shall gild thy new clothed Beech and sides, I'll view thee with delight."

The house originally belonged to Earl Godwine, and has had a strange
history. One of its lords was starved to death at Windsor by King John;
Llewellyn murdered another at a banquet; a third fell from his horse and
was killed. Later, it belonged to the Shirleys, one of whom married a
Persian princess; it has been held by the Gorings for a long period.
This interesting old mansion has a venerable church adjoining it,
surmounted by an ivy-clad tower. Chanctonbury Hill rises eight hundred
and fourteen feet, and its ring of trees, which can be seen for many
miles, is planted on a circular mound surrounded by a trench, an ancient
fortification. From it there is a grand view over Surrey and Sussex and
to the sea beyond--a view stretching from Windsor Castle to Portsmouth,
a panorama of rural beauty that cannot be excelled.


[Illustration: ARUNDEL CASTLE.]

[Illustration: RUINS OF COWDRAY.]

The little river Arun flows from the South Downs into the sea, and
standing upon its banks is Arundel Castle, which gives the title of earl
to the unfortunate infant son and heir of the Duke of Norfolk, whose
blindness shows that even the greatest wealth and highest rank do not
command all things in this world. A village of two steep streets mounts
up the hill from the river-bank to the castle, which has unusual
interest from its striking position and the long line of its noble
owners--the Fitzalans and Howards. The extensive ramparts surround a
ponderous keep and there are fine views in all directions. This is a
favorite home of the Duke of Norfolk, and is surrounded by an extensive
park. The tombs of his ancestors are in the old parish church of St.
Nicholas, built in the fourteenth century, alongside which the duke has
recently constructed a magnificent Roman Catholic church in Decorated
Gothic at a cost of $500,000. The architect of this church was Mr.
Hansom, who invented for the benefit of London the Hansom cab. Westward
of Arundel is Chichester, distinguished for its cathedral and cross,
the ancient Regnum of the Romans. The cathedral, recently restored, is
peculiar from having five aisles with a long and narrow choir. Here is
buried Richard Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel in the fourteenth century. This
cathedral has a consistory court over the southern porch, reached by a
spiral staircase, from which a sliding door opens into the Lollards'
Dungeon. It has a detached campanile or bell-tower rising on the
north-western side, the only example in England of such an attachment to
a cathedral. The Chichester market-cross, standing at the intersection
of four streets in the centre of the town, is four hundred years old. In
front of Chichester, but nine miles away, the low peninsula of Selsey
Bill projects into the sea and is the resort of innumerable wild-fowl.
Three miles out of town is Goodwood, where the races are held. Goodwood
is the seat of the Duke of Richmond and Gordon, who has a fine park, and
a valuable picture-gallery particularly rich in historical portraits. At
Bigner, twelve miles from Chichester over the chalk-downs, are the
remains of an extensive Roman villa, the buildings and pavements having
been exhumed for a space of six hundred by three hundred and fifty feet.
The Rother, a tributary of the Arun, flows down from Midhurst, where are
the ruins of Cowdray, an ancient Tudor stronghold that was burned in
1793, its walls being now finely overgrown with ivy. Dunford House, near
Midhurst, was the estate presented to Richard Cobden by the "Anti-Corn
Law League."


[Illustration: GILBERT WHITE'S HOUSE.]

Crossing from Midhurst over the border into Hampshire, the village of
Selborne is reached, one of the smallest but best known places in
England from the care and minuteness with which Rev. Gilbert White has
described it in his _Natural History of Selborne_. It is a short
distance south-east of Alton and about fifty miles south-west of London,
while beyond the village the chalk-hills rise to a height of three
hundred feet, having a long hanging wood on the brow, known as the
Hanger, made up mainly of beech trees. The village is a single
straggling street three-quarters of a mile in length, in a sheltered
valley and running parallel with the Hanger. At each end of Selborne
there rises a small rivulet, the one to the south becoming a branch of
the Arun and flowing into the Channel, while the other is a branch of
the Wey, which falls into the Thames. This is the pleasant little place,
located in a broad parish, that Gilbert White has made famous, writing
of everything concerning it, but more especially of its natural history
and peculiarities of soil, its trees, fruits, and animal life. He was
born at Selborne in 1720, and died there in 1793, in his seventy-third
year. He was the father of English natural history, for much of what he
wrote was equally applicable to other parts of the kingdom. His modest
house, now overgrown with ivy, is one of the most interesting buildings
in the village, and in it they still keep his study about as he left it,
with the close-fronted bookcase protected by brass wire-netting, to
which hangs his thermometer just where he originally placed it. The
house has been little if any altered since he was carried to his last
resting-place. He is described by those who knew him as "a little thin,
prim, upright man," a quiet, unassuming, but very observing country
parson, who occupied his time in watching and recording the habits of
his parishioners, quadruped as well as feathered. At the end of the
garden is still kept his sun-dial, the lawn around which is one of the
softest and most perfect grass carpets in England.



The pleasant little church over which White presided is as modest and
almost as attractive as his house. It was dedicated to the Virgin Mary,
and measures fifty-four by forty-seven feet, being almost as broad as it
is long, consisting of three aisles, and making no pretensions, he says,
to antiquity. It was built in Henry VII.'s reign, is perfectly plain
and unadorned, and without painted glass, carved work, sculpture, or
tracery. Within it, however, are low, squat, thick pillars supporting
the roof, which he thinks are Saxon and upheld the roof of a former
church, which, falling into decay, was rebuilt on these massive props
because their strength had preserved them from the injuries of time.
They support blunt Gothic arches. He writes that he remembers when the
beams of the middle aisle were hung with garlands in honor of young
women of the parish who died virgins. Within the chancel is his memorial
on the wall, and he rests in an unassuming grave in the churchyard. The
belfry is a square embattled tower forty-five feet high, built at the
western end, and he tells pleasantly how the three old bells were cast
into four in 1735, and a parishioner added a fifth one at his own
expense, marking its arrival by a high festival in the village,
"rendered more joyous by an order from the donor that the treble bell
should be fixed bottom upward in the ground and filled with punch, of
which all present were permitted to partake." The porch of the church to
the southward is modern and shelters a fine Gothic doorway, whose
folding doors are evidently of ancient construction. The vicarage stands
alongside to the westward, an old Elizabethan house.


[Illustration: THE WISHING STONE.]

Among the singular things in Selborne to which White calls attention are
two rocky hollow lanes, one of which leads to Alton. These roads have,
by the traffic of ages and the running of water, been worn down through
the first stratum of freestone and partly through the second, so that
they look more like water-courses than roads. In many places they have
thus been sunken as much as eighteen feet beneath the level of the
fields alongside, so that torrents rush along them in rainy weather,
with miniature cascades on either hand that are frozen into icicles in
winter. These lanes, thus rugged and gloomy, affright the timid, but,
gladly writes our author, they "delight the naturalist with their
various botany." The old mill at Selborne, with its dilapidated
windsails, presents a picturesque appearance, and up on the
chalk-hills, where there is a far-away view over the pleasant vale
beyond, is the Wishing Stone, erected on a little mound among the trees.
All these things attracted our author's close attention, and as his
parish was over thirty miles in circumference, as may be supposed his
investigations covered a good deal of ground. His work is chiefly
written in the form of a series of letters to friends, and he
occasionally digresses over the border into the neighboring parishes to
speak of their peculiarities or attractions. They all had in his day
little churches, and the parish church of Greatham, not far from
Selborne, is a specimen of the antique construction of the diminutive
chapels that his ancestors handed down to their children for places of
worship, each surrounded by its setting of ancient gravestones. The
_History of Selborne_ shows how the country parson in the olden time,
whose flock was small, parish isolated, and visitors few, amused
himself; but he has left an enduring monument that grows the more
valuable as the years advance. In fact, it is a text-book of natural
history; and so complete have been his observations that he not only
describes all the plants and animals, birds, rocks, soils, and
buildings, but he also has space to devote to the cats of Selborne, and
to tell how they prowl in the roadway and mount the tiled roofs to
capture the chimney swallows. How he loved his home is shown in the poem
with which his work begins. We quote the opening stanza, and also some
other characteristic portions of this ode, which describes the
attractions of Selborne in the last century:

  "See Selborne spreads her boldest beauties round,
  The varied valley, and the mountain ground
  Wildly majestic: what is all the pride
  Of flats with loads of ornament supplied?
  Unpleasing, tasteless, impotent expense,
  Compared with Nature's rude magnificence.
    Oft on some evening, sunny, soft, and still,
  The Muse shall hand thee to the beech-grown hill,
  To spend in tea the cool, refreshful hour,
  Where nods in air the pensile, nest-like bower;
  Or where the Hermit hangs his straw-clad cell,
  Emerging gently from the leafy dell:
  Romantic spot! from whence in prospect lies
  Whate'er of landscape charms our feasting eyes;
  The pointed spire, the hall, the pasture-plain,
  The russet fallow, and the golden grain;
  The breezy lake that sheds a gleaming light,
  Till all the fading picture fails the sight....
    Now climb the steep, drop now your eye below,
  Where round the verdurous village orchards blow;
  There, like a picture, lies my lowly seat,
  A rural, sheltered, unobserved retreat.
    Me far above the rest, Selbornian scenes.
  The pendant forest and the mountain-greens,
  Strike with delight: ... There spreads the distant view
  That gradual fades, till sunk in misty blue."

[Illustration: GREATHAM CHURCH.]



About sixteen miles south-west of Selborne is the chief city of
Hampshire and one of the great historical cities of the
realm--Winchester--built on the side of a chalk-hill rising from the
valley of the Itchen, a stream that was Izaak Walton's favorite
fishing-ground. This was the Roman Venta Belgarum, and was made an
episcopal see in the seventh century. Nothing remains of the earlier
cathedral, which was replaced by the present structure, begun in the
eleventh century, but not finished until the fifteenth. Winchester
Cathedral is five hundred and sixty feet long, and its nave is in the
highest degree impressive, being the longest in England, extending two
hundred and sixty-five feet. The western front has recently been
restored. Within the cathedral are many noted tombs, including that of
William Rufus, and above the altar is West's painting of the "Raising of
Lazarus." In the presbytery are six mortuary chests containing the
remains of kings and bishops of the ancient Saxon kingdom of Wessex. St.
Swithin's shrine was the treasure of Winchester: he was bishop in the
ninth century and the especial patron of the city and cathedral.
Originally interred in the churchyard, his remains were removed to the
golden shrine given by King Edgar, though tradition says this was
delayed by forty days of rain, which is the foundation of the popular
belief in the continuance of wet weather after St. Swithin's Day, July
15. In the Lady Chapel, Queen Mary was married to Philip of Spain in
1554, and the chair on which she sat is still preserved there. The
cathedral close is extremely picturesque, surrounded by houses of
considerable antiquity. Among the prelates of Winchester were William of
Wykeham and Cardinal Beaufort: the former founded St. Mary's College
there in the fourteenth century--a fine structure, with the picturesque
ruins of the old palace of the bishops, Wolvesey Castle, near by; the
latter, in the fifteenth century, built Cardinal Beaufort's Tower and
Gateway in the southern suburbs, on the Southampton road, when he
revived the foundation of St. Cross. This noble gateway, when approached
from the city, is seen through the foliage, with a background of quaint
high chimneys, church, and green leaves. The river Itchen flows
alongside the road, half hidden among the trees. The St. Cross Hospital,
with the thirteen brethren still living there in their black gowns and
silver crosses, gives a vivid picture of ancient England. Adjoining the
gateway on the left hand is the brewery, formerly known as the "Hundred
Men's Hall," because a hundred of the poorest men in Winchester were
daily entertained there at dinner, and, as the repast was provided on a
bountiful scale, the guests always had ample provisions to carry home to
their families. The tower and surrounding buildings are excellent
examples of the domestic architecture of the fifteenth century. In this
hospital the custom still prevails of giving the wayfarer a horn of ale
and dole of bread, the ale being brewed on the premises and of the same
kind made there centuries ago. The old West Gate of Winchester, the only
survivor of the city's four gates, is a well-preserved specimen of the
military architecture of the time of Henry III. Winchester Castle was
originally built by William the Norman, and continued a residence of
the kings until Henry III., but of it little remains beyond the hall and
some subterranean fragments. Here hangs on the wall what is said to be
the top of King Arthur's round table. There is a beautiful cross in
Winchester, recently restored, and originally erected on the High Street
by Cardinal Beaufort, who seems to have spent much of his vast and
ill-gotten wealth in splendid architectural works. Shakespeare
introduces him in _Henry VI._, and in the scene that closes his career
truthfully depicts him:

  "If thou be'st death, I'll give thee England's treasure,
  Enough to purchase such another island.
  So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain."


The Itchen flows into the estuary of Southampton Water, and from its
western shores spreads far away the domain of the New Forest, stretching
down into the south-western part of Hampshire. This is a remnant of the
forests that once covered the greater part of the island, and is the
most extensive left in the English lowlands. It was made a royal forest
by William the Norman, and thus continues to the present time, the
largest tract of uncultivated land and one of the finest examples of
woodland scenery in the kingdom. It covers almost the whole surface
between Southampton Water and the Avon, which is the western border of
Hampshire, but in recent years its area has been gradually curtailed,
though its extent has never been accurately measured. Stretching about
fifteen miles from east to west and twenty miles from north-west to
south-east, it includes about ninety-one thousand acres, of which
twenty-six thousand belong to private landowners, two thousand are the
absolute property of the Crown, and the remaining sixty-three thousand
acres have common and other rights due to a large number of tenants,
though the title is in the Crown. About twenty-five thousand acres are
covered with timber, but only five thousand acres of this is old timber,
the remainder having been planted with trees within the last two hundred
years. The surface is gently undulating, becoming hilly in the northern
parts; the soil is usually arid, and the scenery discloses wide expanses
of heathery moor, often marshy in the lower grounds, with here and there
copses that gradually thicken into woodland as the true forest district
is approached. The chief trees are oak and beech, which attain to noble
proportions, while there are occasional tufts of holly and undergrowth.


[Illustration: RUFUS'S STONE.]

Almost in the centre of the forest is the village of Lyndhurst, regarded
as the best point of departure for its survey--a hamlet with one long
street and houses dotted about on the flanks of a hill, the summit of
which is adorned by a newly-built church of red brick with bath-stone
dressings. Within this church is Sir Frederick Leighton's fresco of the
"Wise and Foolish Virgins." In the ponderous "Queen's House," near the
church, lives the chief official of the forest, and here are held the
courts. Formerly, this official was always a prince royal and known as
the lord warden, but now his powers are vested in the "First
Commissioner of Woods and Forests:" here the poacher was in former days
severely punished. The New Forest was originally not only a place for
the king's pleasure in the chase, but it also furnished timber for the
royal navy, though this fell into disuse in the Civil War. Subsequently
parts were replanted, and William III. planted by degrees six thousand
acres with trees. The great storm of 1703 uprooted four thousand fine
trees, and then again there was partial neglect, and it was not until
within a half century that a serious effort was made to fully restore
the timber. There have now been ten thousand acres planted: a nursery
for young trees has been established, and about seven hundred acres are
annually planted, the young oaks being set out between Scotch firs,
whose more rapid growth protects the saplings from the gales, and when
they are able to stand alone the firs are thinned out. About four miles
north of Lyndhurst and beyond Minstead is Rufus's Stone. Around Minstead
Manor the land has long been enclosed and cultivated, and looks as
little like a wild forest as can be imagined, while northward the ground
rises to the top of Stony Cross Hill, disclosing one of the finest views
in this region, looking down over a wide valley, with cultivated fields
on its opposite sides and woodland beyond, gently shelving to
Southampton Water, of which occasional glimpses may be had. There is an
abundance of woodland everywhere, checquered by green lawns. At our back
is the enclosed park, within which some intrenchments mark the site of
Castle Malwood, where tradition says that William Rufus passed the night
previous to his death. The king just before dawn aroused his attendants
by a sudden outcry, and rushing into the chamber they found him in such
agitation that they remained there until morning. He had dreamed he was
being bled, and that the stream from his veins was so copious that it
rose to the sky, obscuring the sun. The daylight also brought other
omens: a foreign monk at the court had been dreaming, and saw the king
enter a church, seize the rood, and rend it with his teeth; the holy
image at first submitted to the insult, then struck down the king, who,
while prostrate, vomited fire and smoke which masked the stars. The
king, whose courage had returned with daylight, made light of the monk's
tale, though he did not go to hunt as usual that morning, but after
dinner, having taken liberal drafts of wine, rode out with a small
party, including Walter Tyril, lord of Pontoise, lately arrived from
Normandy. They hunted throughout the afternoon, and near sunset the
king and Tyril found themselves alone in a glade below the castle. A
stag bounded by, and the king unsuccessfully shot at him; then another
ran past, when Tyril shot his arrow, bidden, as tradition says, by the
king "in the devil's name." The arrow struck William Rufus full in the
chest, and he dropped lifeless. Tyril, putting spurs to his horse,
galloped westward to a ford across the Avon into Dorsetshire. Soon after
a charcoal-burner named Purkis, whose descendants still live in the New
Forest, came past, found the king's body, and, placing it on his cart,
bore it, still bleeding, to Winchester. Tyril's arrow had glanced from a
tree, which long existed, but, decaying centuries afterward, Rufus's
Stone was set up to mark the spot. This became mutilated, and has been
enclosed in an iron casing, with copies of the original inscriptions on
the outside. It is now a cast-iron pillar about five feet high, with a
grating at the top, through which may be seen the stone within. It
stands on a gentle slope, not quite at the bottom of the valley, with
pretty scenery around. Tyril got his horse shod at the Avon ford, for
which offence the blacksmith afterwards paid an annual fine to the
Crown. He was not very hotly pursued, however, and made his escape into
Normandy, where he sturdily denied that the arrow was shot by him at
all, laying the blame to a conspiracy of the king's enemies, of whom he
had many.

Southward from Lyndhurst the road goes over undulating ground and
through magnificent oaks and beeches to Brockenhurst, past a heronry at
Vinney Ridge. This section contains some of the finest trees in the
forest, with plenty of dense holly and an occasional yew. The ground
discloses the bracken fern, and gray lichen clings thickly to the trunks
and branches of the trees. The woodland views along this road are
splendid, and only need the wild animals of a former era to bring back
the forest-life of mediæval times. Off to the eastward, standing on the
little river Exe, are the foliage-clad ruins of Beaulieu Abbey, founded
by King John, and now held by the Duke of Buccleuch, who has a mansion
near by. Here was buried John's mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, and here
came the widow of Warwick the King-maker, after the battle of Barnet,
for sanctuary. Perkin Warbeck when defeated also took refuge at
Beaulieu, where he surrendered on promise of mercy. The abbey is a wreck
now, for after its dissolution we are told that its stones "went to
build Henry VIII.'s martello tower at Hurst, and its lead to repair
Calshot" on Southampton Water, while the gate-house serves as the
entrance to the modern ducal mansion, and the refectory is the parish
church. Here are the tombs of Mary Dore and Mary Do. The former was a
noted witch, "who could transform herself into a hare or cat, and
afflict or cure all the cattle in the neighborhood." The latter is
credited with more celestial attributes in the obituary that survives
her than were allotted her unfortunate companion; and the acrostic
inscription on her tomb is often quoted:

  "Merciless fate (to our greate griefe and woe)
  A prey hath here made of our deere Moll Do,
  Rapte up in duste and hid in earthe and claye,
  Yet live her soule and virtues now and aye;
  Death is a debt all owe which must be paide
  Oh that she knew, and of it was not afraide!"


To the westward of Beaulieu is Brockenhurst, a pretty forest village,
along whose main street we are told the deer formerly galloped on a
winter's night, to the great excitement of all the dogs therein. The
forest almost blends with the village-green, and on a low artificial
mound stands its church, with traces of almost every style of
architecture since the Conquest, and guarded by a famous yew and oak. At
Boldre, near Brockenhurst, lived Rev. W. Gilpin, the vicar of the
parish, the author of several works on sylvan scenery, and reputed to be
the original of the noted _Dr. Syntax_, who made such a humorous "Tour
in Search of the Picturesque." He now lies at rest under a maple
alongside his church, in which Southey was married. Ringwood is the
chief town of the western forest-border upon the level plain that forms
the Avon Valley where Tyril escaped across the ford. It is not a very
interesting place. A little way up the river, near Horton, "King
Monmouth" was captured after Sedgemoor, and from Ringwood he wrote the
abject letters begging his life from King James, who turned a deaf ear
to all entreaty. Alice Lisle, who was judicially murdered by Judge
Jeffreys for sheltering two refugees from that battle, also lived at
Moyle Court, near Ringwood. The chief inn is the "White Hart," named in
memory of Henry VII.'s hunt in the New Forest, where the game, a white
hart, showed fine running throughout the day, and ultimately stood at
bay in a meadow near the village, when, at the intercession of the
ladies, the hounds were called off, the hart secured, given a gold
collar, and taken to Windsor. The inn where the king partook of
refreshments that day had its sign changed to the White Hart. It was at
Bisterne, below Ringwood, that Madonie of Berkeley Castle slew the
dragon, for which feat King Edward IV. knighted him--a tale that the
incredulous will find confirmed by the deed still preserved in Berkeley
Castle which records the event, confers the knighthood, and gives him
permission to wear the dragon as his badge.



[Illustration: CHRISTCHURCH.]


From Brockenhurst the Lymington River flows southward out of the New
Forest into the Solent, across which is the Isle of Wight, steamers
connecting Lymington at the mouth of the river with Yarmouth on the
island. About twelve miles westward from Lymington is Christchurch, at
the confluence of the Avon and Stour Rivers, which here form the estuary
known as Christchurch Bay. The Avon flows down past Ringwood on the
western verge of the New Forest, its lower valley being a wide grassy
trough in a rolling plateau of slight elevation. The moors, with many
parts too arid for cultivation, extend to the sea, having glens here and
there whose sandy slopes are often thickly wooded, and whose beds are
traversed by the "bournes" that give names to so many localities in this
region. Along all the sea-border fashionable watering-places are
springing up, which enjoy views over the water to the distant
chalk-downs of the Isle of Wight, one of the best being that from
Boscombe Chine. Through this land the Avon flows, and the Stour enters
it from the west, with the ancient town of Christchurch standing on the
broad angle between them. It is of Roman origin, and the remains of a
British castle crown the neighboring promontory of Hengistbury Head. The
chief attraction is the magnificent Priory Church, founded before the
Norman Conquest, but rebuilt afterwards and dedicated to the Holy
Trinity. The ancient town was known as Twynham from the two rivers, and
it then became Christchurch-at-Twynham, but the original name was
ultimately dropped. It was a royal demesne in Edward I.'s reign, and
Edward III. granted it to the Earl of Salisbury, whose countess was the
heroine of the institution of the Order of the Garter. It is a sleepy,
old-fashioned place, with little of interest excepting the Priory Church
and the castle. The square church-tower rises high above the Avon, a
landmark from afar, its mass of gray masonry catching the eye from away
over the sea. The church is of large dimensions, cruciform in plan, with
short transepts, and a Lady chapel having the unusual peculiarity of an
upper story. It is about three hundred and ten feet long, with the
tower at the western end, and a large northern porch. The oldest part of
the church was built in the twelfth century by Flambard, Bishop of
Durham, who was granted this priory by William Rufus. Subsequently, he
fell into disfavor, and the priory became a college of the Augustinians.
Only the nave and transepts are left of his Norman church, the remainder
being of later construction. The north porch, which has an extremely
rich Decorated doorway, is of unusual size, having an upper chamber, and
dating from the thirteenth century. The nave is of great beauty, being
separated from the aisles by massive semicircular arches, rich in
general effect, with a triforium above consisting of a double arcade,
making it worthy to compete with the finest naves in England. The
clerestory is more modern, being of Pointed Gothic, and the aisles are
also of later construction: the northern aisle contains a beam to which
is attached the legend that the timber was drawn out as if an elastic
material "by the touch of a strange workman who wrought without wages
and never spoke a word with his fellows." The western tower is of
Perpendicular architecture, added by the later builders, and beneath it
is the handsome marble monument erected to the memory of the poet
Shelley, drowned at Spezzia in 1822: his family lived near Christchurch.
The tower contains a peal of eight bells, two of them ancient, and from
the belfry there is a noble view over the valleys of the two rivers, the
distant moorlands and woods of the New Forest, the estuary winding
seaward and glittering in the sun, while beneath are the houses and
gardens of the town spread out as on a map. Among the many monuments in
the church is that to Margaret, Countess of Salisbury, the last of the
line who possessed the priory, and the closing heiress of the race of
Plantagenets. She was the mother of Cardinal Pole, who upheld the cause
of the pope against Henry VIII., and she was a prisoner in the Tower,
held as hostage for his good behavior. At seventy years of age she was
ordered out for execution, but refused to lay her head upon the block,
saying, "So should traitors do, and I am none." Then, the historian
says, "turning her gray head in every way, she bade the executioner, if
he would have her head, to get it as he could, so that he was
constrained to fetch it off slovenly." She was beheaded in May, 1541,
being too near in kinship to the throne to be allowed to live. Little is
left of the ancient priory buildings beyond the ruins of the old Norman
gateway. The castle of Christchurch has also almost disappeared, leaving
only massive fragments of the wall of the keep crowning a mound. It was
of slight historical importance; and a more perfect relic is the ruin of
the ancient Norman house standing near by on the bank of the Stour, an
ivy-clad shell of masonry still showing the staircase and interior
apartments. This crumbling memorial of the twelfth century was the home
of Baldwin de Redvers, then Earl of Devon.


Crossing over the New Forest back to the Southampton Water on its
eastern border, the river Itchen debouches on the farther shore near the
head of the estuary, making a peninsula; and here is the celebrated port
of Southampton, located between the river Itchen and the river Test, and
having an excellent harbor. The Southampton Water extends from the Red
Bridge, a short distance above the city, to Calshot Castle, about seven
miles below, and varies in breadth from a mile and a half to two miles,
the entrance being well protected by the Isle of Wight, which gives the
harbor the peculiarity of four tides in the twenty-four hours--double
the usual number, owing to the island intercepting a portion of the
tidal wave in its flow both ways along the Channel. Southampton comes
down from the Romans, and remains of their camp, Clausentum, now known
as Bittern Manor, are still to be seen in the suburbs, while parts of
the Saxon walls and two of the old gates of the town are yet preserved.
The Danes sacked it in the tenth century, and afterwards it was the
occasional residence of Canute, its shore being said to be the scene of
his rebuke to his courtiers when he commanded the tide to cease
advancing and it disobeyed. Southampton was destroyed by foreign
invaders in the fourteenth century, and rebuilt by Richard II. and
strongly fortified. For many years it was a watering-place, but within
half a century extensive docks have been built, and it has become a
great seaport, being the point of departure for steamship-lines to all
parts of the world, especially the East Indies and America, as it is but
seventy miles south-west of London, and thus shortens the sea voyage for
trade from the metropolis. The harbor is a fine one, the channel being
deep and straight, and affording good anchorage. In exploring the
antiquities of Southampton the visitor will be attracted by an ancient
house of the Plantagenet period located on St. Michael's Square, said to
have been occupied by Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, and the remains of
the town-walls. The old Bargate in these walls crosses the High Street,
dividing it into "Above Bar" and "Below Bar." In the ancient walls are
the antique towers known as Arundel Tower and Catch-Cold Tower, and also
a house (one of the oldest in England) built anterior to the twelfth
century, and known as King John's Palace. Southampton Park, called the
Common, is a pretty enclosure of three hundred and sixty acres just
north of the city. The picturesque ruins of Netley Abbey are about three
miles south of the city, and near them is the Royal Victoria Hospital,
established just after the Crimean War, both of them on the eastern bank
of Southampton Water.


[Illustration: PORTSMOUTH POINT.]

[Illustration: H.M.S. "VICTORY."]

We will follow Southampton Water down to its entrance, where the two
broad channels dividing the Isle of Wight from the mainland--the Solent
and Spithead--join, and at the point jutting out on the western angle
pass Calshot Castle, founded for coast-defence by Henry VIII., and now
occupied by the coast-guard. Skirting along Spithead, which is a
prolongation of the Southampton Water, without change of direction, at
about twenty miles from Southampton we round Gillkicker Point, forming
the western boundary of Portsmouth harbor. Here is Gosport, and east of
it is Portsea Island, about four miles long and two and a half miles
broad, on which Portsmouth is located, with its suburbs known as
Portsea, Landport, and Southsea. Portsmouth is on the south-western part
of the island, separated from Portsea by a small stream to the
northward, both being united in a formidable fortress whose works would
require thirteen thousand men to man, though the ordinary garrison is
about twenty-five hundred. The royal dockyard, covering one hundred and
twenty acres, is at Portsea, and at Gosport, opposite, are the
storehouses, the channel between them, which extends for several miles
between Portsea Island and the mainland, gradually widening until it
attains three miles' breadth at its northern extremity. This channel
affords anchorage for the largest vessels, and is defended by Southsea
Castle on the eastern side and Moncton Fort on the western side of the
entrance into Spithead, where the roadstead is sheltered by the Isle of
Wight. Portsmouth was a port in the days of the Saxons, who in the sixth
century called it Portsmuthe. It fitted out a fleet of nine ships to aid
King Alfred defeat the Danes, and its vessels ineffectually endeavored
to intercept the Normans when they landed near Hastings. In the
fourteenth century the French burned the town, but were afterwards
defeated with heavy loss. Ever since then the fortifications have been
gradually improved, until now it is one of the strongest British
fortresses. The Duke of Buckingham was murdered here in 1628, and part
of the house where he was killed still remains. In 1757, Admiral Byng
was executed here, and in 1782 the ship "Royal George" was sunk with
Admiral Kempenfelt and "twice four hundred men." The town of Portsmouth
contains little that is attractive beyond its ancient church of St.
Thomas à Becket, built in the reign of Henry II., and containing on its
register the record of the marriage of Charles II. with Catharine of
Braganza in 1662. This marriage took place in the garrison chapel, which
was originally the hospital of St. Nicholas, founded in the time of
Henry III. The chief place of interest is the dockyard at Portsea, the
entrance to which, by the Common Hard, or terrace fronting the harbor,
bears the date of 1711. Here they have many relics of famous ships, and
also vast numbers of boats, and all kinds of materials for building
war-vessels, especially iron and armor-plated ships, with the docks and
slips for their construction. Off the dockyard lies at anchor the most
famous of the "wooden walls of old England," the "Victory," the ship in
which Nelson died at Trafalgar, then the most powerful vessel of the
British navy. Near her is anchored another celebrated man-of-war, the
port-admiral's flag-ship, the "Duke of Wellington." The stores across
the harbor at Gosport are on a large scale, and are known as the Royal
Clarence Victualling Yard. In the southern part of Gosport is the Haslar
Hospital for sick and disabled sailors and soldiers. From Gillkicker
Point beyond, a sandbank stretches about three miles out from the shore
in a south-easterly direction, and is called the Spit. This gives the
name to the roadstead of Spithead, west of which is the quarantine
station of Motherbank. This is the great roadstead of the British navy,
and in the miles of docks, sheds, forges, basins, and shops of
Portsmouth harbor that weary the tourist, who thinks he ought to
dutifully go through them, are fashioned many of the monster iron-clads
that modern improvements have made necessary in naval architecture.


[Illustration: HARBOR OF COWES.]

Crossing over the narrow strait--for there is ample opportunity by
several routes--we will complete this English tour by a journey beyond
the Solent and Spithead to the Isle of Wight. This island, formed like
an irregular lozenge about twenty-two miles long and thirteen broad, is
rich in scientific and historical associations, and a marvel of climate
and scenery. Its name of Wight is said to preserve the British word
"gwyth," the original name having been "Ynys-gwyth," or the "Channel
Island." The Roman name was "Vectis," Rome having conquered it in
Claudius' time. The English descended upon it in the early part of the
sixth century, and captured its chief stronghold, Whitgarasbyrg, now
Carisbrooke Castle. It afterwards became part of the Saxon kingdom of
Wessex, and St. Wilfrid, Archbishop of York, is said to have converted
its people to Christianity. Then the Danes devastated it, and after the
Norman Conquest it was subdued by Fitzosborne, Earl of Hereford, whose
descendants ruled it until Edward I. recovered the wardenship for the
Crown. Richard II. granted it to the Earl of Salisbury, and Henry VI.
created the Earl of Warwick, Henry Beauchamp, "king of the Isle of
Wight," crowning him with his own hands. The title reverted to the Crown
in the time of Henry VII. The French several times invaded the island,
and it was the intention of the leaders of the Spanish Armada to capture
and use it as a base for operations against England, but the English
fleet harassed them so badly that they had to sail past without
effecting a landing. In the Civil War the Isle of Wight made a
considerable figure.


[Illustration: YARMOUTH.]


Beginning at the western end of the lozenge-shaped island, beyond which
are the Needles, the entrance to the Solent is found defended by
successive batteries on every headland, with Hurst Castle on the
Hampshire shore. High Down, with its fine chalk-cliffs, rises six
hundred feet above the sea, being haunted by numerous sea-gulls, and
under it is Scratchell's Cave, a singular recess in the rock accessible
only by boat. Sheltered by the bold headland is Alum Bay, with its
tinted sands, gray, buff, and red, and from Headon Hill, its eastern
boundary, the coast stretches away to Yarmouth, a little town on the
Solent, where are the remains of one of the defensive blockhouses built
by Henry VIII. The shores of the strait trend to the north-east, with
pleasant views across on the coast of Hampshire, until the northernmost
point of the Isle of Wight is reached, where its chief stream, the
Medina, flows into the strait through an estuary about five hundred
yards wide. Here is Cowes, divided by the river into the West Cow and
the East Cow, the plural form of the name being modern. It is a popular
bathing-place, but gets the most fame from being the headquarters of the
Royal Yacht Club; their house is the old castle at the Medina entrance,
built by Henry VIII., it is said, with portions of the masonry of
Beaulieu Abbey. The harbor, at the proper season, is usually dotted with
yachts. There is steam communication with the mainland, and a railway
runs inland to Newport, the chief town of the island. Near East Cowes is
Whippingham, which was the birthplace of Dr. Arnold, the famous
head-master of Rugby School. Ascending the Medina, the beautiful park
and gardens of Osborne House, the marine residence of Queen Victoria,
border its eastern margin. This was the ancient manor of Austerbourne,
and its owner in the Civil War buried all his money and plate in an
adjoining wood, called the Money Copse, so as to preserve it. When
peaceful days came back he went to get it, but found he had concealed it
so thoroughly that it could not be recovered. The queen bought the
estate in 1844, and the plain mansion was extended into an elegant
marine villa just back from the sea-coast. It was the queen's childhood
attachment to the locality that made her settle here, for when a young
princess she had passed many pleasant days in the neighboring Norris

East of the Medina the coast trends to the south-east, the shores being
lined by fine villas surrounded with highly-cultivated grounds; indeed,
the coast of the strait seems like an extended park. Here, opposite
Portsmouth, is the famous watering-place of Ryde, in a beautiful
situation, and with railways running across the island to Sandown and
Ventnor. The land steeply rises from the sea, with the town stretching
along its slope, a panorama of villas whose trees grow down to the
water's edge. It is an ancient town, having existed in the reign of
Richard II., when the French burned it, but none of the present
buildings are of much antiquity, it having in later years been gradually
converted into a fashionable watering-place. The pier is the popular
promenade, and the Spithead roadstead in front is closely connected with
English naval history. It was here that the "Royal George" went down on
a calm day and drowned her admiral and eight hundred men: she was
careened over, the better to make some repairs, and, a squall striking
her, it is said the heavy guns slid down to the lower side and tipped
the vessel over, when she quickly filled and sank. Here also, in 1797,
was the great mutiny in Lord Bridport's fleet, the sailors, when the
signal to weigh anchor was given, declining to do it until their just
demands were granted; the mutiny was suppressed and the leaders severely
punished. All the neighboring shores bristle with forts and batteries
protecting the entrance to Spithead. Inland are the Binstead quarries,
whose stone was in demand in the Middle Ages and built parts of
Winchester Cathedral, Beaulieu Abbey, and Christchurch; also, here are
the scanty remains of Quarr Abbey. Eastward of Ryde the coast is low and
bends more to the southward, reaching the estuary known as Brading
Harbor, a broad sheet of water at full tide, but a dismal expanse of mud
at low water, through which a small stream meanders. At Brading is the
old Norman church which St. Wilfrid founded, of which Rev. Legh
Richmond, author of the _Annals of the Poor_, was the curate. In the
churchyard is the grave of his heroine, little Jane, the "Dairyman's
Daughter." Extensive remains of a Roman villa have been discovered at
Morton, near Brading, and to the eastward of them a hyptocaust.
Rounding the Foreland, which is the easternmost point of the island, the
chalk-rocks rise again, and Whitecliff Bay nestles under the protection
of the lofty Culver Cliff as the coastline bends south-west and then
makes a grand semicircular sweep to the southward around Sandown Bay.
This wide expanse broadens between the two chalk-ridges that cross the
Isle of Wight from its western side. The railway from Ryde runs across
the chalk-downs to the growing watering place of Sandown, standing on
the lowest part of the shores of the bay. Here the coast is guarded by a
grim fort, and here in the last century came the noted John Wilkes to
recuperate after his contests with the House of Commons, which vainly
tried to keep him out of his seat.

[Illustration: SHANKLIN CHINE.]

[Illustration: THE UNDERCLIFF.]

The chalk-ranges to the southward provide magnificent scenery, and two
miles from Sandown, but on higher ground, is Shanklin, from which its
celebrated chine descends to the sea. This little ravine is about four
hundred and fifty yards long and at its mouth about two hundred feet
deep. It has been gradually worn in the brown sandstone rock by the
action of a diminutive brook that bubbles over a little cascade at the
upper end. The rich colors of the crags, the luxuriant foliage of the
slopes, and the rhapsodies of guide books combine to give the Shanklin
Chine a world-wide fame. It was here that a party of French under the
Chevalier d'Eulx landed in 1545 to get some fresh water. The process was
tedious, the stream being so small, and the chevalier and some of his
party, wandering inland, were caught in an ambuscade. He and most of the
others were killed, though they defended themselves bravely. South of
Shanklin the chalk-cliffs are bold and lofty, and off these pretty
shores the "Eurydice" was lost in a squall, March 24, 1878, when
returning from her training-cruise in the West Indies. It was at four
o'clock on Sunday afternoon, and her ports being open when the squall
struck her, she capsized and almost immediately foundered, only two
survivors remaining out of the three hundred persons on board. Climbing
the cliffs south of Shanklin and crossing the summit, we reach Bonchurch
on the southern coast, described by Dr. Arnold as the most beautiful
thing on the sea-coast north of Genoa. Here villas are dotted and the
villages are spreading into towns, for the coast of the Undercliff is
becoming one of the most fashionable resorts the English have. Already
complaints are made that a too general extension of settlements is
interfering with the picturesque wildness of scenery and luxuriant
vegetation that are the great charm of this delightful region. The
Undercliff stretches along the southern coast for several miles to the
westward of Bonchurch--an irregular terrace formed by the sliding
forward of the chalk-downs, which dip gently towards the sea. This makes
a lofty natural terrace, backed by cliffs to the northward and open to
the full influence of the southern sun. It has the climate of Madeira,
and is fanned by the sea-breezes that invigorate but do not chill. The
mildness of the winter makes it a popular resort for invalids, and many
greenhouse plants live outdoors throughout the year, the almost
perpendicular rocks of the Undercliff absorbing during the day the heat
that they radiate throughout the night. Yet at Bonchurch many who had
sought health in this beautiful region ultimately found a grave, and of
its churchyard it has been written, "It might make one in love with
death to think one would be buried in so sweet a place." The ancient
little Norman church of St. Boniface is still here, but a new and larger
church was built not long ago. Here lies Rev. W. Adams, who wrote the
allegory _Under the Shadow of the Cross_, and it is strictly true, for
the cross raised as his monument casts its shadow on the slab over his
grave. Admiral Hobson was born at Bonchurch, and ran away from the
tailor's shop in which he was apprenticed to come back knighted for his
victory over the Spaniards at Vigo Bay. Ventnor, known as the
"metropolis of the Undercliff," is beyond Bonchurch, and is also a
thriving wateringplace, above which rises the attractive spire of Holy
Trinity Church, built by the munificence of three sisters.

From Ventnor the most beautiful part of the island coast stretches
westward to Niton. The bold chalk-downs rise from their craggy bases,
the guardians of the broken terrace intervening between them and the
sea. Foliage and ivy cling to them; flowers cluster on the turf and
banks and gleam in the crevices; and little streams come down the
ravines. Here was the smallest church of England--St. Lawrence--twenty
feet long, twelve wide, and six feet high to the eaves. A chancel has
lately been added, while below are the ivy-clad ruins of the ancient
Woolverton Chapel. Near Niton, at Puckaster Cove, Charles II. landed
after a terrific storm; and beyond is Roche End, the southern point of
the island. The coast, a dangerous one, then trends to the north-west,
and wrecks there are frequent, while inland St. Catharine's Down rises
steeply, there being a magnificent view of the island from its summit,
elevated seven hundred and fifty feet. Here in the fourteenth century
was founded, on the highest part of the Isle of Wight, a chantry chapel
where a priest prayed for the mariner and at night kept a beacon burning
to warn him off the reefs. An octagonal tower of the chapel remains, but
a lighthouse supersedes the pious labors of the priest; a column near by
commemorates a visit of the Russian Czar to the summit of the hill in
1814. The wild scenery of this region is varied by the great landslip
which in 1799 carried about one hundred acres down towards the sea, the
marks of its progress being still shown in the rended rocks and
wave-like undulations of the earth. About a mile to the westward is the
most noted and wildest of the ravines of the island, the Blackgang
Chine, now filled with paths and summer-houses, for the thrifty
hotel-keepers could not help domesticating such a prize. It is a more
open ravine than that at Shanklin, and like it cut out by a tiny stream,
while far away through the entrance is a distant view westward to
Portland Isle and St. Aldhelm's Head. The rocks are dark green, streaked
with gray and brown sandstone, looking like uncouth courses of masonry.
The adjoining coast is guarded by grim crags on which many ships have
been shattered. There are other chines to the westward--all of great
attractions, though of less size and celebrity. The coast is not of so
much interest beyond, but the cliffs, which are the outposts of the
chalk-measures, become more lofty at Freshwater Gate, and our survey of
the island shores terminates at the Main Bench, whose prolonged point
goes out to the Needles.



Following up the Medina River a few miles, almost to the centre of the
island, it leads to the metropolis, the little town of Newport, and
here, upon an outer precipice of the chalk-downs overlooking the
river-valley and the town, and elevated two hundred feet above the sea,
is Carisbrooke Castle. The oldest part of the present remains come down
from Fitzosborne, but additions were afterwards made, and Queen
Elizabeth, in anticipation of the descent of the Armada, had an outer
line of defence constructed, pentagonal in shape and enclosing
considerable space. The loyalty of the people in that time of trial was
shown by their subscribing money and laboring without pay on these
works. The ruins are not striking, but are finely situated on the
elevated ridge. They are much decayed, but the entrance-gateway is well
preserved, with its flanking round towers, portcullis, and ancient
doors. Here lived Charles I. and two of his children. A small stone
building within the enclosure covers the famous well of Carisbrooke,
sunk in Stephen's days, two hundred and forty feet deep, of which ninety
feet are filled with water. A solemn donkey in a big wooden wheel works
the treadmill that winds the bucket up. Formerly, every visitor dropped
a pebble into the well to hear the queer sounds it made in falling--"His
head as he fell went knicketty-knock, like a pebble in Carisbrooke
Well," used to be a proverb--but as this amusement threatened to fill up
the well, it has been prohibited. The keep is at the north-eastern angle
of the castle, polygonal in plan and of Norman architecture. Carisbrooke
was held for the empress Maud against Stephen, but the failure of the
old well in the keep, now filled up, caused its surrender. The new one,
which has never been known to give out, was then bored. In the reign of
Charles I. the castle was invested by militia on behalf of the
Parliament, and was surrendered to them by the wife of the governor, the
Countess of Portland. She obtained specially advantageous conditions
from the besiegers by appearing on the walls with a lighted match and
threatening to fire the first cannon unless the conditions were granted.
King Charles I. took refuge here in November, 1647, but soon found he
was practically a prisoner. He remained ten months, twice attempting to
escape. On the first occasion he tried to squeeze himself between the
bars of his window, but stuck fast; on the second his plan was divulged,
and on looking out the window he found a guard ready to entrap him
below. He was taken to Newport and surrendered himself to the
Parliamentary commissioners, but was ultimately returned to Carisbrooke.
Then some army officers removed him suddenly to Hurst Castle on the
mainland, and thence he was taken to Windsor and London for the trial
that ended on the block at Whitehall. Two of his children were
imprisoned in Carisbrooke with him--the young Duke of Gloucester,
afterwards sent to the Continent, and the princess Elizabeth, who died
here in childhood from a fever. She was found dead with her hands
clasped in the attitude of prayer and her face resting on an open Bible,
her father's last gift. She was buried in an unmarked grave in Newport
Church, but the coffin was discovered in 1793, and when the church was
rebuilt in 1856 Queen Victoria erected a handsome monument over the
little princess, the sculptor representing her lying on a mattrass with
her cheek resting on the open Bible, the attitude in which she had been
found. Newport has some ten thousand population.


Tennyson's pretty home is at Farringford, near Freshwater, on the
western slope of the Isle of Wight, just where it begins to contract
into the long point of the chalk-cliffs that terminate with the Needles.
At Brixton, on the south-western coast, is Bishop Ken's parsonage,
where William Wilberforce spent the closing years of his life. The
little rectory here is honorably distinguished as having given to the
Church of England three of its famous prelates: Bishop Ken, one of the
martyrs whom James II. imprisoned in the Tower, and whose favorite walk
is still pointed out in the pretty garden; Bishop Samuel Wilberforce of
Winchester, whose unfortunate death occurred not long ago at Evershed
Rough; and the present Bishop Moberly of Salisbury. The western
extremity of the Isle of Wight is a peninsula, almost cut off from the
main island by the little river Yar, which flows into the Solent at
Yarmouth. This is known as the Freshwater Peninsula, and presents
almost unrivalled attractions for the tourist and the geologist. The
coast-walk around the peninsula from Freshwater Gate to Alum Bay extends
about twelve miles. The bold and picturesque chalk-cliffs tower far
above the sea, their dazzling whiteness relieved by the rich green
foliage. Some of these hills rise four hundred feet, forming the
chalk-downs that are the backbone of this most attractive island. Among
these hills are bewitching little vales and glens, and almost every
favored spot is availed of as a villa site. No part of England is more
sought as a place of rural residence than this richly-gifted isle, thus
set as a gem upon the southern shore of the kingdom.



With the terminating western cliffs of the chalk-hills of the Isle of
Wight beyond High Down we will close this pleasant journey. The
far-famed Needles are a row of wedge-like masses of hard chalk running
out to sea in the direction of the axis of the range of hills. They do
not now much resemble their name, but in earlier years there was among
them a conspicuous pinnacle, a veritable needle, one hundred and twenty
feet in height, that fell in 1764. At present the new lighthouse, built
at the seaward end of the outermost cliff, is the nearest approach to a
needle. The headland behind them is crowned by a fort several hundred
feet above the sea. There were originally five of these pyramidal
rocks, but the waves are continually producing changes in their form,
and now but three of them stand prominently out of the water.

       *       *       *       *       *

And now our task is done. The American visitor landing at Liverpool has
been conducted through England, and has been shown many of its more
prominent attractions, but not by any means all of them, for that would
be an impossible task. But he has been shown enough to demonstrate the
claim of the mother-country to the continued interest of the Anglo-Saxon
race from beyond the sea; and to this pleasant panorama and description
there cannot be given a better termination than at the lovely Isle of
Wight, the perfection of English scenery and climate, whereof Drayton
has written,

  "Of all the southern isles, she holds the highest place,
  And evermore hath been the great'st in Britain's grace;
  Not one of all her nymphs her sovereign favoreth thus,
  Embracèd in the arms of old Oceanus."

[Illustration: THE NEEDLES.]


  Abbey Dale, 87.

  Abbey Dore, 370.

  Abbot, George, Archbishop of Canterbury, 465.

  Abbot's Hospital, Guildford, 465.

  Abbot's Tower, Alnwick, 328.

  Abbotsbury, 420, 424.

  Abergavenny, 372.

  Abergele, 34.

  Abergwili, 382.

  Aber-tawe, 376.

  Aberystwith Castle, 47.

  Abingdon Abbey, 167.

  Ad Pontem, 269.

  Adams, Rev. W., 517.

  Adam and Eve Inn, London, 218.

  Addison, 104, 164, 217.

  Addison's Walk, Oxford, 149.

  Admirals, earliest, in England, 489.

  Admiralty Building, London, 197.

  Adrian IV., Pope, 226.

  Ælfred, 317, 464.

  Ælfrida, 415.

  Æthelbald, 413.

  Æthelbert, 413.

  Æthelred, 338.

  Ælhelred's Tomb, Wimborne, 415.

  Æthelstan, 412, 425.

  Agglestone, 417.

  Aire, River, 283.

  Aislabie, John, 289.

  Aisle of Tombs, Chester-le-Street, 320.

  Alan the Red, 294.

  Alard, Gervase, 489.

  Alard, Stephen, 489.

  Alban, 225.

  Albert Memorial, Hyde Park, 206.

  Albermarle, Earl of, 307.

  Albert Bridge, Tamar River, 439.

  Albury Down, Guildford, 464.

  Albury Park, 466.

  Alderney, 421, 423.

  Aldershot Camp, 467.

  Alexander, King of Scotland, 325.

  Alexander VI., Pope, 404.

  Alfred, King, 386, 412.

  All Saints' Church, Oxford, 155.

  All Souls' College, Oxford, 147.

  Aller Church, 412.

  Alne River, 322.

  Alnwick Castle, 322, 323.

  Alnwick Abbey, 325, 329.

  Alton, 495.

  Alton Towers, 91.

  Alum Bay, Isle of Wight, 514.

  American Weed, 166.

  Amesbury, 390, 392.

  Amphibalus, 225.

  Anabaptists, 474, 475.

  _Analogy_, Butler's, 399.

  Anastasius, 470.

  Anderida, 490.

  Angel Inn, Helston, 456.

  Anglesea, 35.

  Anglesea Column, 38.

  Anglican Monastery, Capel-y-ffyn, 374.

  Angus, Earl, 334.

  _Annals of the Poor_, 515.

  Annandale, Earl of, 464.

  Anne Boleyn's Seat, Studley Royal, 290.

  Anne of Cleves, 478.

  Anselm, Archbishop, 481.

  Anstis Cove, 431.

  Anti-Corn Law League, 495.

  Antoninus, 381.

  Apples in Devonshire, 437.

  Aquarium, Brighton, 491, 492.

  Aquila, House of, 489.

  Aram, Eugene, 302.

  Arcadia, 394, 477.

  Arches Court, London, 196.

  Argyle, Earl of, 334.

  Ariconium, 355.

  Arkwright, Sir Richard, 51, 86.

  Armada, Spanish, 223, 382, 437, 513, 519.

  Armada trophies, 233.

  Armstrong guns, 321.

  Armstrong, Sir William, 321.

  Arnold, Dr., 168, 516.

  Arnold, Dr., birthplace, Whippingham, 514.

  Arran Fowddwy, 28.

  Arthur, King, birthplace, 452.

  Arthur, King, tomb, 408.

  Arun River, 493, 495.

  Arundel Castle, 493, 494.

  Arundel, Earl of, 493, 494.

  Arundel Tower, Southampton, 510.

  Ascot, 384.

  Ashby de la Zouche, 109.

  Ashby, St. Leger, 128.

  Ashdown, 386.

  Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, 153.

  Asparagus Island, Kynance, 458.

  Astley, Sir Jacob, 115.

  Aston Hall, Birmingham, 125.

  Athelney, Isle of, 412.

  Athelstan, 338.

  Auckland, 319.

  Auditor's Tower, Alnwick, 328.

  Audley, Baron Thomas, 234, 248.

  Audley End, 234.

  Austerbourne, 515.

  Austin Friars Priory, 99.

  Avelon, Isle of, 407.

  Avon ford, New Forest, 504.

  Avon gorge, 400.

  Avon River, 118, 139, 337, 387, 394, 415, 432, 501, 506.

  Axe River, 406, 424.

  Axminster, 424.

  Axminster carpets, 392.

  Ayre, Point of, 59.

  Babbicombe Bay, 430, 431.

  Bablock Hythe Ferry, 140.

  Backs of Colleges, Cambridge, 239.

  Bacon, Francis, 261.

  Bacon, Francis, tomb, 230.

  Bacon, Roger, friar, 150, 168.

  Baggy Point, Devonshire, 449.

  Bagley Wood, 168.

  Bagworthy Water, 443.

  Baker, Chancellor, 475.

  Baker's Cross, Sissinghurst, 475.

  Bakewell, 76.

  Bala Lake, 28, 47.

  Balliol College, Oxford, 144, 154.

  Balliol, King, 321.

  Ballywasta, 377.

  Balsham, Hugh de, 246.

  Bamborough, 330, 335.

  Bamborough Castle, 335.

  Banbury, 158.

  Bangor, 37.

  Bangor-ys-Coed, 31.

  Bank of England, 208.

  Bankes, Lady, 417.

  Bankes, Sir John, 417.

  Banstead, 473.

  Barbican, Alnwick, 323.

  Barbican, Sandwich, 485.

  Bard, the, 40.

  Bardon Hill, 109.

  Bardon Tower, the Strid, 287.

  Bargate, Southampton, 510.

  Barmoor Wood, Flodden, 334.

  Barmouth, 44.

  Barnard Castle, 325.

  Barnard, Lady, 119.

  Barnard's Heath, St. Albans, 229.

  Barndoor Cove, 418.

  Barnstaple, 449.

  Barnstaple Bay, 449.

  Barrow-in-Furness, 56.

  Barry, Sir Charles, 91, 202.

  Basingstoke Canal, 467.

  Baslow, 85.

  Bassenthwaite Lake, 67.

  Basset, Gilbert, 165.

  Bath, 394.

  Bath bricks, 409.

  Bath stone, 386.

  Bathurst, Earl, 138, 147.

  Battle of Dorking, 471.

  Battle of Hastings, 489.

  Battledon, 115.

  Bayeux Tapestry, 490.

  Bayham Abbey, 475.

  Beachy Head, 490.

  Beacon Hill, Harwich, 238.

  Beacon Walks, Exmouth, 424.

  Beaconsfield Club, London, 214.

  Bearwood, 385.

  Beauchamp Chapel, Warwick, 121.

  Beauchamp, Henry, 377, 513.

  Beauchamp, Thomas, Earl of Warwick, 121.

  Beauchamp Tower, 193.

  Beauchief Abbey, 87.

  Beaufort, Cardinal, 500, 501.

  Beaufort, Jane, 176.

  Beaufort, Duke of, 366, 369, 380.

  Beaulieu Abbey, 504, 514.

  Beaumaris Castle, 36.

  Beaumonts, the, 109.

  Beaver Lake, 279.

  Bebbanburg, 335.

  Becket, St. Thomas à, 165, 481.

  Becket, St. Thomas à, slain, 482.

  Becket's Chapel, Peterborough, 254.

  Becket's shrine, 482.

  Beckford, William, 396.

  Beckington, Bishop, 402, 404.

  Bed of Ware, 234.

  Bede, Venerable, 269, 316, 317.

  Bedford Castle, 129.

  Bedford, Duke of, 131, 439.

  Bedford Level, 254.

  Bedgebury Park, 474.

  Beeston Castle, 27.

  Bek, Antony, 318, 325.

  Bell Harry, Canterbury, 482.

  Bell Inn, Edmonton, 214.

  Bell Tower, London, 193.

  Bellamont, Henry de, 380.

  Bellows, Kynance, 458.

  Belted Will, 304.

  Belvedere, Windsor Park, 384.

  Belvoir Castle, 80, 106.

  Ben Rhydding Palace, 285.

  Bentinck, William, 271.

  Beorm, 124.

  Beresford, Field-marshal, 474.

  Beresford Hope, A. J. B., 474, 482.

  Berkeley Canal, 337.

  Berkeley Castle, 339, 340, 506.

  Berkeley Chapel, Bristol, 399.

  Berkeley, Earls of, 398.

  Berks and Wilts Canal, 161.

  Berkshire, 140, 386.

  Bermondsey Monastery, 111.

  Berry Head, Torbay, 431.

  Berry Pomeroy Castle, 433.

  Berwick-on-Tweed, 335.

  Berwick, Dorset, 131.

  Bess of Hardwicke, 71, 271.

  Betchworth Castle, 470.

  Bettws-y-Coed, 41.

  Beverley, 278.

  Beverley Minster, 279.

  Bicester, 165.

  Bickleigh Vale, Plym River, 436.

  Bickner, 361.

  Bicycles, 106.

  Biddulph, R. Myddelton, 30.

  Bideford, 449.

  Bideford Bridge, 450.

  Bidston, 27.

  Bigner, 495.

  Bigod, Roger, 257, 365.

  Binstead quarries, Isle of Wight, 515.

  Bird-fair, Kirkham, 306.

  Birkenhead, 17.

  Birmingham, 124.

  Bisham Abbey, 171.

  Bishop Lloyd's Palace, Chester, 22.

  Bishop's Eye, Wells, 403.

  Bishop's Garden, Wells, 401.

  Bishops Hatfield, 230.

  Bisterne, 506.

  Bittern Manor, 509.

  Black Down, Mendip Hills, 407.

  Black Friars Monastery, Newcastle, 321.

  Black Mountains, 353, 369.

  Black Rood, 316, 319.

  Blackgang Chine, Isle of Wight, 518.

  Blacklow Hill, 308.

  Blackmore, novelist, 443.

  Bladud's Well, Bath, 395.

  Blake, Admiral, 409, 442.

  Blenheim, 162.

  Blenheim Woods, 157.

  Blickling, 259.

  Bloody Baker's Prison, 475.

  Bloody Gap, Alnwick, 323, 327.

  Bloody Meadow, Tewkesbury, 345.

  Bloody Tower, London, 190.

  Blorenge, Abergavenny, 372.

  Boadicea, 225.

  Boar and Sow, 417.

  Boatswain, dog, 273.

  Bodleian Library, Oxford, 152.

  Bold, Jonas, 19.

  Bodley, Sir Thomas, 153, 429.

  Boldre, 505.

  Boleyn, Anne, 477, 510.

  Boleyn, Sir Geoffrey, 477.

  Boleyn, Sir William, 259.

  Bolsover Castle, 73, 74.

  Bolton Abbey, 285.

  Bolton Hall, 287.

  Bonchurch, 516, 517.

  Bonwaldesthorne's Tower, 25.

  Borrowdale Valley, 65.

  Boscobel Wood, 347.

  Boscombe Chine, 507.

  Bossiney, 452.

  Boston, 263.

  Boswell, 103, 303.

  Bosworth Field, 113.

  Botanic Garden, Oxford, 149.

  Bothwell, Earl of, 334.

  Boulton and Watt, 127.

  Bourne River, 387.

  Bournemouth, 415.

  Bow and Arrow Castle, 421.

  Bow bells, London, 195.

  Bowder Stone, 65.

  Bowness, 65.

  Bowyer Tower, London, 193.

  Box Hill, 470, 471.

  Box Tunnel, 387.

  Boy of Egremont, 287.

  Bradda Head, 59.

  Bradford, 284.

  Bradgate, 108.

  Brading Harbor, Isle of Wight, 515.

  Bramble Hill, 502.

  Brandon, Charles, 89.

  Brandon Hill, Bristol, 397, 400.

  Brasenose College, Oxford, 149.

  Bray Church, 172.

  Braybrooke, Baron, 236.

  Brayford Pool, 263.

  Brazen head, the, 150.

  Breakwater, Portland, 421.

  Brecknock, 353.

  Brede River, 488.

  Brendon River, 446.

  Brendon Hills, Exmoor, 441.

  Brick Tower, London, 193.

  Brictric, King, 343.

  Bridgenorth, 95.

  Bridgenorth, Castle, 96.

  Bridgewater, 409.

  Bridgewater, Earl of, 99.

  Bridport, Lord, 515.

  Brigg-shot, Leeds, 284.

  Brightstow, 397.

  Brighton, 491.

  Brislee Hill, Alnwick Park, 330.

  Bristol, 397.

  Bristol Cathedral, 398.

  Bristol Channel, 376, 407, 408, 440.

  Bristol, Marquis of, 250.

  Bristol milk, 398.

  Bristow Castle, 397.

  Britannia Bridge, 38.

  British Constitution, 67.

  British Museum, 212.

  Brixham, 431.

  Brixton, 520.

  Broad Moor, Naseby, 117.

  Broad Walk, Oxford, 146.

  Broadcloth manufacture, 474.

  Broad water, 179.

  Brocavum, 68.

  Brockenhurst, 504, 505.

  Brockenhurst Church, 405.

  Brockweir, 365.

  Brompton, Chatham, 480.

  Bronwen, Lady, 49.

  Brooke, Lord, 102.

  Brooke, Sir James, 435.

  Brougham Castle, 67.

  Brougham, Lord, 218.

  Broughton Castle, 158, 160.

  Broughton, Lady, 27.

  Brown, Capability, 262.

  Brown, Sir William, 20.

  Brown Willy, Mount, 453.

  Browning, Elizabeth B., 350.

  Brummagem, 125.

  Buccleuch, Duke of, 504.

  Buckhurst, Lord, 238.

  Buckingham, 134.

  Buckingham, Duke of, 134, 199.

  Buckingham, Duke of, murdered, 511.

  Buckingham Palace, 199.

  Buckinghamshire, 131.

  Buckland Abbey, 440.

  Bull-running, 91.

  Bumble Rock, Lizard, 459.

  Bunbury College, 27.

  Bunyan, John, 129.

  Burgess, Dr., 404.

  Burghley House, 231, 261.

  Burghley, Lord, 141, 231.

  Burke, Edmund, 397.

  Burke, Sir Bernard, 110.

  Burnet, Bishop, 427.

  Bury St. Edmunds, 250.

  Bushey Park, 178.

  Bussex Rhine, Sedgemoor, 411.

  Butchers' Row, Hereford, 353.

  Bute, Marquis of, 375.

  Butler, Bishop, 98, 319, 399.

  Butler, Lady, 28.

  Buxton, 75.

  Byng, Admiral, executed, 511.

  Byrom, 53.

  Byron, Lord, 273, 454.

  Byron, Sir John, 273.

  Byron's Pool, 249.

  Cable, Submarine, 458.

  Cabot, Sebastian, 397, 399.

  Cad River, 435.

  Cade, Jack, 179.

  Cader Idris, 45.

  Cadogan, Lord, 171.

  Cædmon, 310.

  Caer Taff, 375.

  Caergwrle Castle, 34.

  Caerleon, 375.

  Caermarthen, 381.

  Caernarvon, 39.

  Caernarvon Castle, 38.

  Caernarvonshire, 35.

  Caerphilly Castle, 376.

  Caerwise, 425.

  Cæsar, Julius, 177, 469.

  Cæsarea, 423.

  Cæsar's Tower, Warwick Castle, 121.

  Caister Castle, 256.

  Caithness, Earl of, 335.

  Caius College, Cambridge, 243.

  Cakes, Banbury, 159.

  Calder River, 282.

  Calf of Man, 59.

  Calshot Castle, 509, 510.

  Calveley, Sir Hugh, 27.

  Cam River, 234.

  Cambridge, 239.

  Cambridge Castle, 249.

  Camden, Marquis of, 475.

  Camdentown, London, 215.

  Camelford, 453.

  Campbell, Lord, 169.

  Canova, 470.

  Canterbury, 480.

  Canterbury, Archbishop of, 129, 194.

  Canterbury Castle, 482.

  Canterbury Cathedral, 481, 482.

  _Canterbury Tales_, 483.

  Canute, 509.

  Canynge, William, 399.

  Capel, Lord, 233.

  Capel-y-ffyn, 374.

  Capstone Rock, Ilfracombe, 448.

  Cardiff, 375.

  Cardigan Bay, 44.

  Cardinal Beaufort's Tower and Gate, Winchester, 500.

  Cardinal's Cap Inn, Dorking, 469.

  Carew Castle, 383.

  Carfax Conduit, Oxford, 156.

  Carisbrooke Castle, 512, 519.

  Carisbrooke Well, 519.

  Carlisle, 68.

  Carlisle, Earls of, 90, 303, 304, 307.

  Carlton Club, London, 213.

  Carmelite discipline, 330.

  Carpets, 392, 394, 424.

  Carr, Robert, 414.

  Carrick Roads, Falmouth, 453.

  Caskets, the, Alderney, 421.

  Cassiobury, 233.

  Cassivelaunus, 177, 224.

  Castello, Hadrian de, Bishop, 404.

  Castle Cornet, 423.

  Castle Crag, 65.

  Castle Field, Bridgwater, 410.

  Castle Green, Hereford, 355.

  Castle Hill, 66.

  Castle Hill, Dover, 487.

  Castle Hill, Scarborough, 308.

  Castle Howard, 303.

  Castle Malwood, 503.

  Castle Rock, Lynton, 445, 446.

  Castleton, 70.

  Castletown, 60.

  Catch-Cold Tower, Southampton, 510.

  Catesby, Robert, 128.

  Catharine of Braganza married, 511.

  Catharine, queen's tomb, 254.

  Catwater Haven, Plymouth, 437, 438.

  Cavendish, Sir Charles, 271.

  Cavendish, Sir William, 72, 82, 271.

  Cavendish Square, London, 214.

  Cavern of the Peak, 71.

  Caversham, 170.

  Caversham House, 171.

  Cawdor, Earl of, 382.

  Cecil, Henry, 262.

  Cecil, Sir Robert, 231.

  Cecil, Sir William, 230.

  Cecil, Thomas, 262.

  Cecil, William Allayne, 261.

  Chain Gate, Wells, 403.

  Chain Pier, Brighton, 491.

  Chalk Cliffs, 486.

  Chalk measures, 463.

  Chanctonbury Hill, 492, 493.

  Channel Islands, 421.

  Chapel Royal, Whitehall, 197.

  Charlecote House, 119.

  Charles I., 270, 296, 414, 519, 520.

  Charles I., death, 168.

  Charles I., tomb, 177.

  Charles II., 235, 237, 347, 423, 518.

  Charles II., married, 511.

  Charles X., 419.

  Charnwood Forest, 107.

  Chartley Castle, 91.

  Chatham, 480.

  Chatsworth, 73, 81.

  Chatterton, Thomas, 399, 400.

  Chaucer, 161, 190, 244, 249, 480, 483.

  Chaucer's tomb, 189.

  Chavenage, 139.

  Checquers Inn, Canterbury, 480.

  Chequers Inn, Tunbridge, 476.

  Cheddar cheese, 407.

  Cheddar Cliffs, 405.

  Cheddar Forest, Wells, 403.

  Chedzoy, 410.

  Chee Tor, 76.

  Chelsea Hospital, 238.

  Cheltenham, 138.

  Chenies, Woburn, 132.

  Chepstow Castle, 367.

  Chertsey, 177.

  Cherwell River, 214.

  Cheshire, 26.

  Chesil Bank, Portland, 419.

  Chesilton, 420.

  Cheslyn, Richard, 110.

  Chester, 21.

  Chester, Earls of, 105, 106.

  Chester-le-Street, 314, 320.

  Chesterfield, 74.

  Cheviot Hills, 322, 330, 331.

  Chichele, Archbishop, 147, 148.

  Chichester, 494.

  Childs, George W., 189.

  Chiltern Hills, 135.

  Chirk Castle, 30.

  Christ Church College, Oxford, 144, 145.

  Christ Church, Coventry, 105.

  Christ's College, Cambridge, 248.

  Christchurch, 506.

  Christchurch Castle, 509.

  Christchurch Gate, Canterbury, 481.

  Church Brixham, 431.

  Church Hope Cove, 421.

  Churchill, John, 162, 304, 411.

  Churn River, 137.

  Churnet River, 92.

  Cinque Ports, 483.

  Cirencester, 138.

  Citadel Point, Plymouth, 437.

  Clapham, 286.

  Clare College, Cambridge, 243.

  Clare, Gilbert de, 476.

  Clare, Walter de, 365.

  Clarendon, Earl of, 124.

  Clarendon, Lord, 74.

  Clausentum, 509.

  Cleddan River, 382.

  Cliefden, 171.

  Clifford Castle, 353.

  Clifford, Lord, 135.

  Clifford, Rosamond, 135.

  Clifford's Tower, York, 301.

  Clifton, Bristol, 397.

  Clifton-Dartmouth-Hardness, 434.

  Clifton-Hampden, 170.

  Clinton, Geoffrey de, 122.

  Clock Tower, St. Albans, 228.

  Clock Tower, Westminister, 202.

  Clovelly, 450.

  Clovelly Court, 451.

  Clumber Park, 270.

  Clwyd River, 34.

  Clytheroe Castle, 57.

  Coal-mines, 312, 321, 376, 377.

  Cobb Pier, Lyme Regis, 424.

  Cobbett, Colonel, 347.

  Cobden, Richard, 495.

  Cobden Hall, Rochester, 479.

  Codex Beza, Cambridge, 243.

  Coed-pen-Maen, 375.

  Coeur de Leon, 434.

  Coldwell, 361.

  Coleridge, S. T., 67.

  College Walks, Cambridge, 241.

  Colman's mustard, 261.

  Coln River, 140, 177.

  Color Court, St. James Palace, 199.

  Combe Martin, 447.

  Commemoration Day, Oxford, 146.

  Common Hard, Portsea Dockyard, 511.

  Compton Castle, 431.

  _Comus, Masque of_, 98.

  Conderum, 320.

  Congleton, 27.

  Coningsby, 470.

  Conrad's Choir, Canterbury, 481.

  Constable's Tower, Alnwick, 327.

  Constantine the Great, 295.

  Constantius Chlorus, 295.

  Conway Castle, 40.

  Conway River, 42.

  Cookes, Sir Thomas, 154.

  Copper King, 379.

  Copper-mines, 453.

  Copper-works, 378, 379.

  Coquet Island, 330.

  Corbière Promontory, Jersey, 422.

  Corfe Castle, 415.

  Corincus, Giant, 460.

  Corinium, 138.

  Cormoran, Giant, 460.

  Corner Tower, Alnwick, 328.

  Cornet Castle, 423.

  Cornwall, 452.

  Cornwall, Duchy of, 453.

  Cornwallis, Lord, 236.

  Coronation chairs, 186.

  Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, 245.

  Corpus Christi College, Oxford, 146.

  Corwen, 28.

  Cotswold Hills, 137, 337.

  Cotton, Charles, 75, 87.

  Count of the Saxon Shore, 484.

  "Country Bridal," the, 123.

  Court of Arches, London, 196.

  Court of St. James, 199.

  Coventry, 104.

  Cowdray Ruins, 494, 495.

  Cowes, 514.

  Cowes Harbor, 512.

  Cowey Stakes, 177.

  Cowley, 177.

  Cox, Bishop of Ely, 252.

  Cranbrook, 474.

  Cranbrook Church, 475.

  Cranmore Pool, Dartmoor, 432.

  Crescents, Bath, 395.

  Creslow House, 135.

  Crewe, Baron Bishop, 318.

  Cricklade, 137.

  Crimea trophies, 233.

  Crocodile's Tears, 236.

  Cromlechs, 461.

  Cromwell, Oliver, 116, 160, 248, 340, 347, 368, 369, 378.

  Cronk-ny-Jay Llaa, 59.

  Cross, Banbury, 159.

  Cross, Winchester, 501.

  Crosses, Market, 279, 494.

  Crowland Abbey, 254.

  Croxden Abbey, 92.

  Crumlyn Bog, 381.

  Crusoe, Robinson, 303.

  Crystal Palace, Hyde Park, 85, 207.

  Cumberland, Clifford, Earl of, 301.

  Cumberland, Earl of, 67.

  Cumberland Gate, Hyde Park, 205.

  Cumberlandshire, 64.

  Cumnor Hall, 141.

  Cursus, Stonehenge, 391.

  Cutlers' Hall, Sheffield, 281.

  Cutlery, Sheffield, 280.

  Culver Cliff, Isle of Wight, 516.

  Dacre, Lord, 334.

  _Dairyman's Daughter, The_, 515.

  Dale, John, 76.

  Dalton, Dr., 55.

  Dane River, 27.

  Darling, Grace, 335.

  Darnley, Earl, 479.

  Dart River, 432.

  Dartmoor, 432.

  Dartmouth, 434.

  Daventry, 116.

  David, King of Scotland, 267, 306, 325.

  Davy, Sir Humphry, 462.

  Dawlish, 430.

  De Gray, Walter, tomb, York, 300.

  De Lacy, Baron Ilbert, 284.

  De Ros family, 306.

  Deadly Nightshade, Valley of, 56.

  Deal, 484, 486.

  Dean Forest, 337, 360, 361, 365.

  Dean's Eye, Wells, 403.

  Deans, Jeanie, 274.

  Death Rock, Devonshire, 449.

  Dee, Miller of, 26.

  Dee River, 21, 24, 28.

  Dee, Sands o', 33.

  Deepdale, 87.

  Deepdene, 470.

  Denbies, Dorking, 471.

  Denbigh, 33.

  Dene, Ralph de, 475.

  Dennis Duval, 488.

  Derby, 87.

  Derby Day, Epsom, 472.

  Derby, Earls of, 20, 23, 27, 61, 165, 472.

  Derbyshire, 70.

  Derbyshire marbles, 82.

  Derwent River, 64, 75, 81, 303, 306.

  Derwentwater, 64.

  Derwentwater, Earl of, 66.

  Despenser, Hugh, 376.

  D'Eulx, Chevalier, 516.

  Devil's Bellows, Lyme Regis, 424.

  Devil's Cheese-Ring, Lynton, 446, 447.

  Devil's Coits, 140.

  Devon, Countess of, 440.

  Devon, Earls of, 436, 509.

  Devonport, 437, 438.

  Devonshire, Dukes of, 71, 240, 287.

  Devonshire, Earl of, 439.

  Dewerstone, Dartmoor, 436.

  Dickens, Charles, 470, 480.

  Digby, Earl of, 415.

  Digby, G. D. Wingfield, 415.

  Dinan, Joyce de, 97.

  Dinas Bran Castle, 29.

  Dingles, the, Warwickshire, 119.

  Disraeli, 470.

  Ditchling Beacon, Brighton, 492.

  Ditton, 178.

  Do, Mary, tomb, Beaulieu Abbey, 504, 505.

  Dockyard, Plymouth, 438.

  Dolgelly, 46.

  Dolwyddelan, 42.

  Don River, 279.

  Donington Hall, 109.

  Doone Glen, 443.

  Dorchinges, 499.

  Dore, Mary, tomb, Beaulieu Abbey, 504.

  Dore River, 369, 370.

  Dorking, 463, 469.

  Dorking, Battle of, 471.

  Dorking fowls, 470.

  Dorsetshire, 413.

  Double Cube-room, Wilton, 393.

  Douglas, death, 329.

  Dour River, 486.

  Dove Holes, 87.

  Dovecote, Holmwood Park, 409.

  Dovedale, 86.

  Dover, 484, 486, 487.

  Dover Castle, 486.

  Dovey River, 47.

  Dowards, Great and Little, 362.

  Dowlands landslip, 424.

  Downing College, Cambridge, 248.

  Downing Street, London, 197.

  Downs, the, 486.

  Downton Castle, 100.

  Drake, Sir Francis, 440.

  Drawing Room, Kynance, 458.

  Drayton, Michael, 392.

  Drayton, poet, 522.

  Drummond, Henry, 466.

  Dubræ River, 486.

  Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, 477.

  Dudley, Earl of Leicester, 123, 141.

  Dugdale, 104.

  Duke of Cornwall Harbor, 452.

  Duke of Wellington Flagship, 511.

  Dukeries the, 270.

  Dukesborough, 343.

  Dulas River, 370.

  _Dunciad, The_, 409.

  Dunford House, 495.

  Dungeness Lighthouse, 480.

  Dunhelm, 314.

  Dunkery Beacon, Exmoor, 442.

  Dunstan, Abbot of Glastonbury, 406.

  Dunster, 441.

  Dunster Castle, Siege, 441.

  Dupplin, Lady Betty, 358.

  Durham, 312.

  Durham, Bishop of, 508.

  Durham Castle, 314, 318.

  Durham Cathedral, 314.

  Durham, Earls of, 314, 320.

  Durovernum, 482.

  Dwr River, 486.

  Dyer, 383.

  Dyfi River, 352.

  Eadwine, King, 295, 297.

  Eadwine's Tomb, 310.

  Eagle and Child, 20.

  Eagle Honour Castle, 489.

  Eagle Rock, 85.

  Eagle Tower, 77.

  Earl Hugh's Tower, Alnwick, 328.

  Earl's Drive, 92.

  Earl's Park, Wilton, 392.

  Easby Abbey, 294.

  East Cow, Isle of Wight, 514.

  East Lyn River, 445.

  Eaton Hall, 26, 32.

  Eaton Square, London, 214.

  Ebbsfleet, 486.

  Eboracum, 294.

  Ebrane, King, 295.

  Eddystone Lighthouse, 238, 439.

  Edeirnim Vale, 28.

  Eden River, 477.

  Edgar, King, 395.

  Edgar Tower, Worcester, 349.

  Edgecot, 114.

  Edgecumbe, Mount, 439.

  Edgehill Battle, 160.

  Edgehill Battlefield, 113.

  Edial, 104.

  Edmund, King, 405.

  Edward, King, 415.

  Edward I., 368, 489.

  Edward II., 307, 376, 381.

  Edward II.'s murder, 340.

  Edward II.'s Shrine, 339, 341.

  Edward III., 174.

  Edward IV., 296.

  Edward IV.'s Chapel, Wakefield, 282.

  Edward VI., 230.

  Edward the Black Prince, 161.

  Edward, Black Prince, tomb, Canterbury, 482.

  Edward the Confessor's Chapel, Westminster, 188.

  Eel-Pie Island, 178.

  Egbert, King, 273.

  Egyptian Hall, London, 210.

  Eldon, Chancellor, 418.

  Eldon, Earl of, 138.

  Eleanor of Aquitaine's Tomb, Beaulieu Abbey, 504.

  Eleanor, Queen, 63, 142, 155.

  Elford the Royalist, 435.

  Eliseg's Pillar, 29.

  Elizabeth Castle, 422.

  Elizabeth, Princess, 520.

  Elizabeth's Tomb, Newport, 520.

  Elizabeth, Queen, 139, 161, 230, 252, 474.

  Elizabeth's Court, 220.

  Elizabeth's Defiance, 222.

  Elkington, Messrs., 126.

  Ellesmere Canal, 30.

  Elstow, Bedford, 130.

  Elswick, 321.

  Elton, 127.

  Ely, 464.

  Ely Cathedral, 251.

  Ely, Isle of, 251.

  Ely River, 375.

  Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 169.

  Emma, Queen, 464.

  Emmanuel College, Cambridge, 248.

  Emperor Fountain, 84.

  Encombe, 418.

  Endsleigh, 440.

  Endymion, 471.

  English Bickner, 361.

  Epping Forest, 219.

  Epsom Races, 472.

  Epsom Salts, 472.

  Erasmus' Court, Cambridge, 245.

  Eric, 361.

  Erme River, 432.

  Ermine Street, Lincoln, 266.

  Ermine Street Road, 337.

  Ernisius, 372.

  Erpingham, Sir Thomas, 257.

  Esk River, 310.

  Essex, 234.

  Essex, Earls of, 91, 113, 233, 437.

  Ethelbald, 256.

  Ethelbert, King, 226.

  Ethelfleda, 120.

  Eton College, 172.

  Eurydice wrecked, 516.

  Euston Square Station, London, 215.

  Evelyn, John, 466, 471.

  Evelyn's _Diary_, 471.

  Evenlode River, 140.

  Evergreen Drive, Woburn, 134.

  Evershed Rough, Wolton, 472.

  Ewer, Colonel, 369.

  Ewias, Harold, 369.

  Ewiasvale, 372.

  Ewloe Castle, 27.

  Exanceaster, 425.

  Exchequer Gate, Lincoln, 263.

  Exe River, 424, 504.

  Exeter, 425.

  Exeter Cathedral, 425, 426.

  Exeter College, Oxford, 153.

  Exeter, Earl of, 262.

  Exeter Gardens, Oxford, 149.

  Exeter, Marquis of, 261.

  Exmoor, 407, 440, 447.

  Exmouth, 424.

  Eynsham, 166.

  Faerie Queene, 432.

  Fair Rosamond, 142.

  Fair Rosamond's birthplace, 353.

  Fair Rosamond's coffin, 166.

  Fairfax, Lord, 116, 364.

  Falkland, Lord, 474.

  Falmouth, 454.

  Falmouth Harbor, 453.

  Falstaff Inn, Canterbury, 482.

  Falstaff, Sir John, 260.

  Farnborough, 467.

  Farne, 313, 335.

  Farringford, 520.

  Fawkes, Guy, 128, 303.

  Feathers Inn, 99.

  Fell, Dean, 168.

  Fenland, 134, 249.

  Ferrars Abbey, 91.

  Ferrars, Earl, 108.

  Feversham, Lord, 410.

  Field of the Dead, 100.

  Fiennes, John de, 484.

  Finch, Lord Chancellor, 200.

  Finger Pillory, 109.

  Fire Monument, London, 180.

  Fish Street Hill, London, 181.

  Fishes, Brighton Aquarium, 492.

  Fitzalan, Richard, 494.

  Fitzalans' tombs, Arundel, 493.

  Fitzgilbert, Richard, 475.

  Fitzhanem, Robert, 343, 375.

  Fitzosborne, 368, 512, 519.

  Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, 246.

  Fitzwilliam, Viscount, 246.

  Five Sisters' Window, York, 300.

  Flambard, Bishop of Durham, 508.

  Flamborough Head, 307.

  Fleet Ditch, 409.

  Fleet Estuary, 419.

  Flemings, 474.

  Flemyng, Richard, 153.

  Flint Castle, 33.

  Flintshire, 31, 33.

  Floating Island, 66.

  Flodden, Battle, 319, 331, 334.

  Fluellen, 364.

  Folkestone, 484, 487.

  Folly Bridge, Thames, 168.

  Fonthill Abbey, 396.

  Ford Castle, 331.

  Foreign Office, London, 198.

  Foreland, Dorset, 417.

  Foreland, Isle of Wight, 516.

  Forest Minstrel, 88.

  Forest of Dean, 337, 360, 361, 365.

  Forfarshire wreck, 336.

  Fors Noddyn, 42.

  Forster, Anthony, 141.

  Fort George, Guernsey, 423.

  Fort Pitt, Chatham, 480.

  Foss River, 301.

  Fosse Dyke Canal, 263.

  Foston-le Clay, 307.

  Fotheringhay, 127.

  Fountains Abbey, 289.

  Fountain Dale, 273.

  Fountains Dale, 290.

  Fountains Hall, 293.

  Fowey, 453.

  Fowey Pier, 452.

  Fowls, Dorking, 470.

  Fox and Hounds, Box Hill, 471.

  Fox, Bishop, 146, 263.

  Fox, Charles James, 217.

  Fox, George, 301, 308.

  Fox, Henry Vassal, 217.

  Freshwater, 520.

  Freshwater Gate, Isle of Wight, 518.

  Freshwater Peninsula, 520.

  Friar Tuck, 273.

  Friar's Crag, 66.

  Friar's Heel, Stonehenge, 391.

  Friars, the, Winchelsea, 489.

  Friar's Tower, the, 168.

  Frome River, 397.

  Furness, 56.

  Furness Abbey, 56.

  Gad's Hill, 480.

  Gainsborough, 119.

  Galilee, Durham, 314.

  Gallantry Bower, Clovelly, 451.