{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_53617/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_53617","id":"gutenberg_53617","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53617","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Legends -- England -- Yorkshire"],"text":"Note: Images of the original pages are available through\n      Internet Archive. See\n      https://archive.org/details/legendaryyorkshi00ross\n\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDARY YORKSHIRE\n\nby\n\nFREDERICK ROSS, F.R.H.S.,\n\nAuthor of\n\"Celebrities of Yorkshire Wolds,\" \"Yorkshire Family Romance,\"\netc.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nHull:\nWilliam Andrews & Co., The Hull Press.\nLondon: Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent, & Co., Limited.\n1892.\n\n\n\n\n_NOTE._\n\nOf this book 500 copies have been printed, and this is\n\nNo. ...\n\n\n\n\nContents.\n\n                                          PAGE\n\n  THE ENCHANTED CAVE                         1\n\n  THE DOOMED CITY                           15\n\n  THE \"WORM\" OF NUNNINGTON                  34\n\n  THE DEVIL'S ARROWS                        51\n\n  THE GIANT ROAD-MAKER OF MULGRAVE          70\n\n  THE VIRGIN'S HEAD OF HALIFAX              80\n\n  THE DEAD ARM OF ST. OSWALD THE KING      100\n\n  THE TRANSLATION OF ST. HILDA             117\n\n  A MIRACLE OF ST. JOHN                    131\n\n  THE BEATIFIED SISTERS OF BEVERLEY        147\n\n  THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY                    168\n\n  THE MIRACLES AND GHOST OF WATTON         176\n\n  THE MURDERED HERMIT OF ESKDALE           195\n\n  THE CALVERLEY GHOST                      214\n\n  THE BEWITCHED HOUSE OF WAKEFIELD         231\n\n\n\n\nLEGENDARY YORKSHIRE.\n\n\n\n\nThe Enchanted Cave.\n\n\nWho is there that has not heard of the famous and redoubtable hero of\nhistory and romance, Arthur, King of the British, who so valiantly\ndefended his country against the pagan Anglo-Saxon invaders of the\nisland? Who has not heard of the lovely but frail Guenevera, his Queen,\nand the galaxy of female beauty that constituted her Court at Caerleon?\nWho has not heard of his companions-in-arms--the brave and chivalrous\nKnights of the Round Table, who went forth as knights-errant to succour\nthe weaker sex, deliver the oppressed, liberate those who had fallen\ninto the clutches of enchanters, giants, or malicious dwarfs, and\nespecially in quest of the Holy Graal, that mystic chalice, in which\nwere caught the last drops of blood of the expiring Saviour, and\nwhich, in consequence, became possessed of wondrous properties and\nmarvellous virtue of a miraculous character?\n\nIf such there be, let him lose no time in perusing Sir John Mallory's\n\"La Morte d'Arthur,\" the \"Chronicles of Geoffrey of Monmouth,\" the\n\"Mabinogian of the Welsh,\" or the more recent \"Idylls of the King,\"\nof Tennyson. According to Nennius, after vanquishing the Saxons in\nmany battles, he crossed the sea, and carried his victorious arms into\nScotland, Ireland, and Gaul, in which latter country he obtained a\ndecisive victory over a Roman army. Moreover, that during his absence\nMordred, his nephew, had seduced his queen and usurped his government,\nand that in a battle with the usurper, in 542, at Camlan, in Cornwall,\nhe was mortally wounded; was conveyed to Avalon (Glastonbury), where\nhe died of his wound, and was buried there. It is also stated that in\nthe reign of Henry II. his reputed tomb was opened, when his bones\nand his magical sword \"Excaliber\" were found. This is given on the\nauthority of Giraldus Cambrensis, who informs us that he was present on\nthe occasion. But the popular belief in the West of England was that\nhe did not die as represented, his soul having entered the body of a\nraven, which it will inhabit until he reappears to deliver England in\nsome great extremity of peril.\n\nThis is what is told us by old chroniclers of Western England, the\nWelsh bards, and some romance writers; but in Yorkshire we have a\ndifferent version of the story. It is true, say our legends, that\nArthur was a mighty warrior, the greatest and most valiant that the\nisland of Britain has produced either before or since; a man, moreover,\nof the most devout chivalry and gentle courtesy, and withal so pure\nin his life and sincere in his piety as a Christian, that he alone is\nworthy to find the Holy Graal, if not in his former life, in that which\nis forthcoming--for he is not dead, but reposes in a spell-bound sleep,\nalong with his knights, Sir Launcelot, Sir Gawaine, Sir Perceval, etc.,\nand that the time is coming when the needs of England will be such as\nonly his victorious arm, wielding his magically wrought Excaliber,\ncan rescue from irretrievable ruin. He sleeps--it is asserted--along\nwith his knights, in a now undiscoverable cavern beneath the Castle\nof Richmond, whence he will issue in the fulness of time, scatter the\nenemies of England like chaff before the wind, as he so frequently\ndispersed the hordes of Teuton pagans, and place England on a higher\neminence among the nations of the earth than it has ever previously\nattained. This enchanted cave has been seen but once, and by one man\nonly. It happened in this wise:--\n\nOnce on a time there dwelt in Richmond one Peter Thompson. At what\nperiod he flourished is not recorded, but it matters not, although\na little trouble in searching the parish registers and lists of\nburgesses of the town might reveal the fact. He gained a living by\nthe fabrication of earthenware, and hence was popularly known amongst\nhis comrades and townspeople as Potter Thompson. He was a simple and\nmeek-minded man, small in stature and slender in limb, never troubling\nhimself with either general or local politics. His voice was never\nheard at the noisy meetings of the vestry, nor did he join in the\nsquabbles attendant on the meetings of the electors for the choice\nof their municipal governors or representatives in Parliament; he\nmerely recorded his vote for the candidate who came forward as the\nrepresentative of the colour he supported, leaving the shouting and\nquarreling and cudgel-playing to those of his fellow-townsmen who had\na liking for such rough work. As for himself, he was only too glad\nwhen he had discharged his duty as a citizen to get back to his clay\nand his wheel, for he was an industrious little fellow, had plenty of\nwork, and was thus enabled, by living a frugal life, to lay by a little\nmoney, and would have lived a comfortable and happy life but for one\ncircumstance.\n\nUnfortunately, Peter Thompson was a married man; not that matrimony,\nin the abstract, is a misfortune, but he was unfortunate inasmuch as\nhis wife was a termagant, and made his life miserable. Her tongue went\nclack, clack, clacking all day long; nothing that he did was right. She\ndeclared herself to be the greatest fool in Richmond to have united\nherself to an insignificant little wretch like him; and even when the\nbed curtains were drawn around them at night, the poor fellow was kept\nawake for an hour or more while she dinned into his ears a lecture on\nhis manifold faults and his failures of duty as a husband. Peter seldom\nreplied, but bore it all with meekness, and allowed her to go on with\nher monologue until she was tired, or ceased for want of breath. At\ntimes, when she was more exasperating than usual, he would start up\nfrom his wheel, clap his hat on his head, and rush out of the house to\nescape her pertinacious scolding. At such times he would go wandering\nabout the hills and picturesque scenery by which Richmond is environed,\nand especially about the hill on which stands the Castle, and amongst\nthe castle ruins, remaining away for three or four hours, moodily\nmeditating on the mischance or infatuation which had led him to ally\nhimself with so untoward a helpmate.\n\nIt chanced one day that Peter, unable to endure the persecution of\nhis wife's tongue, rushed out of his house with the full intention\nof throwing himself into the Swale, so as to end his misery there\nand then. It was a brilliant summer's day, and there was a glorious\nsheen cast over hill and vale, rock and ravine, the silvery river\nwinding between its emerald-hued banks and the clumps of foliaged\nwoodland--over the Castle keep standing pre-eminently above all other\nbuildings, church tower, ruined friary, antique bridge, and the\nquaint houses of the burghers, with the tower of Easby gleaming in\nthe distance, imparting to the whole scene, which is one of the most\npicturesque in Yorkshire--which is saying a great deal, and which for\nnatural beauty can scarcely be surpassed in England--a charm which\nhad a wonderful effect on Peter's perturbed mind. He was a lover of\nnature in all her aspects, and an ardent admirer of the landscape\nbeauties which surrounded his native town; and he began to reflect, as\nhe ran down the slope, that if he carried out his purpose, he would\nnever more be able to delight his eyes with the lovely prospects of\nnature so lavishly displayed before him at that moment; and by the\ntime he reached the river's bank he had almost determined to live on\nand find compensation for his domestic discomforts in his communings\nwith nature--or at least, continued he to himself--\"I will take another\nturn among the hills and rocks and old ivy-mantled ruins, before I bid\ngood-bye to it all.\" He wandered along round the base of the Castle\nhill, his spirits becoming more elevated the farther he went, as he\ngazed on the glorious landscape which gradually became revealed to his\nview. Anon he fell into a contemplative mood, and reasoned calmly and\nphilosophically on the wisdom of disregarding the minor ills of life,\nwhen it was possible for him as a compensating alternative to revel\nin the delights he was now enjoying, and he soon forgot altogether his\npurpose of terminating his woes and his life together from the parapet\nof Swale bridge. Onward he wandered; when suddenly turning a corner\nhe came upon a spot altogether unknown to him--a ravine which seemed\nto wind away under the Castle hill, walled in with rugged rocks, from\nwhose crevices sprang upward trees and shrubs, whilst underfoot was a\nflooring of rough scattered stones and fragments of fallen rocks, which\nappeared not to have been trodden for centuries. Astonished at the\nsight, for he imagined that he knew every nook in the neighbourhood,\nhe rubbed his eyes to ascertain whether he was dreaming; but he found\nhimself to be fully awake, and the unknown ravine to be a palpable\nreality. It just flashed across his mind that sorcery had been at work,\nand that what he beheld was the result of necromancy, for in his time\nenchanters, warlocks, wizards, and witches were rife in the land; but\nPeter had a bold heart, and he resolved upon solving the mystery by an\nexploration of the recesses of the ravine, let what would come of it.\n\nSummoning up all his courage, Peter entered the ravine, stumbling\nnow and then over the stones bestrewn along his pathway. The road\nwound about, now to one side then to another, and the trees overhead\nto stretch out towards each other so as to overshadow the ravine and\nimpart a twilight effect, which, as Peter proceeded onward, deepened\ninto gloom, and eventually almost to darkness. At this period, when\nhe was compelled to move along with caution, he encountered what at\nfirst seemed to be a wall of rock forming the end of the ravine. On\nfeeling it carefully he found it to be a huge boulder which obstructed\nhis path, but, his courage failing him not, he found means to clamber\nover it and land safely on the further side. On looking about him, as\nwell as he could by the dim light, he found that he had alighted on\nthe entrance to a cavern, the boulder seeming as if it had been placed\nthere to prevent the intrusion of unauthorised persons, and then he\nimagined that it might be the cave of a gang of banditti, and was at\nonce their treasure house and their refuge in times of peril; and this\nidea seemed to be confirmed by the circumstance that he could perceive,\nin the extreme distance, a glimmer of light. He felt that it would be\nextremely dangerous to be discovered in the purlieus of their haunt,\nbut curiosity got the better of his fears, and he resolved upon going\nforward, mentally adding \"After all it may be nothing more than the\ndaylight streaming in at the other end, and by going on I may come out\ninto the open air without having to return by the rough, shinbreaking\nroad by which I have come;\" and onward he went, feeling his way by the\nrocky walls cautiously and slowly, and, it must be added, with some\ndegree of trepidation.\n\nAs he proceeded along, the distant light increased, and could be seen\nbeaming through an opening like a doorway, with a mild effulgence\nresembling moonlight. Clearly it could not be the light of the sun\nstreaming in through the aperture, and Peter, becoming more convinced\nthat he was either approaching a robbers' haunt or a scene of\nenchantment, crept along as silently as possible, with some timidity,\nit is true; but having come thus far, and his curiosity being excited\nto the utmost pitch, he determined to carry out his adventure to the\nend. As he approached the portal, he stood to listen; but not the\nslightest sound broke the death-like stillness, and concluding from\nthis that the cave was not occupied--at least, was not at present--he\nventured onward with silent footstep, and stood within the illuminated\naperture. What was his amazement cannot be told at beholding the scene\nbefore him. The opening gave entrance to a lofty and spacious cavern,\nits walls glittering with crystals and spars, whilst from the roof\ndepended a profusion of stalactites, glistening and scintillating with\nhues of spectroscopic brilliancy. The light which was diffused around\nseemed to be something supernatural; it was not that of the sun, nor\nthat of the moon, nor was it our modern electric light; but seemed to\nbe an intensity of phosphoric radiance--soft, mild, and provocative\nof slumber--which came not from any lamp or other visible source,\nbut appeared to be self-evolved from the atmosphere. In the centre\nof the cave, upon a rocky table or couch, lay the figure of a kingly\npersonage, resting his head on his right hand, after the fashion of the\nrecumbent effigies in our medi\u00e6val churches. He was clad in resplendent\narmour and a superb over-cloak, with a golden crown, studded with\nprecious stones, encircling his head. By his side was a circular shield\nemblazoned with arms, which would have told Peter, had he been versed\nin heraldry, that the owner was the famous King Arthur; whilst close\nby, suspended from the wall, were a diamond-hilted sword in a chased\ngolden scabbard, and a highly ornamented horn, such as were used by\nmilitary leaders for collecting their scattered troops. Around the King\nlay his twelve Knights of the Round Table, some prostrate on the floor,\nothers reposing on fragments and projections of the rocks, each one\nhandsome in figure and reclining in unstudied natural grace, presenting\na study for a painter. They all lay as still as death save that their\nheaving chests and audible breathing showed that they were wrapped in\nprofound slumber. Peter gazed upon them for a while with wondering\neyes, keeping within the doorway, so as to have the road clear behind\nhim for escape, in case of any hostile demonstration on the part of the\nknights. As they still slumbered on, without any sign of awakening, he\nplucked up courage enough to go amongst them; and, attracted by the\nsplendour of the sword, he took it down to examine it more closely;\nthen took it by the handle, and half drew it from its sheath. The\nmoment he had done so, the sleepers around him gave symptoms of\nawakening, turned themselves, and seemed to be preparing to rise; but\nthe spell of disenchantment was not complete. Peter, terribly alarmed\nat what he saw, pushed back the sword into the scabbard, threw it\non the floor, and hurried with all speed to the doorway; whilst the\nhalf-awakened slumberers sank back again into deep sleep. Peter, not\nnoticing this, rushed through the opening, thinking the knights were\nfollowing him to inflict some terrible punishment on him--perhaps that\nof death--for his presumptuous intrusion. It was but a few moments,\nand he reached the boulder which defended the entrance, and which was\nmuch more difficult to scale from that side. He was endeavouring to\nfind projections to enable him to clamber up, when he heard a hollow\nsepulchral voice exclaim from the cave:--\n\n    \"Potter, Potter Thompson,\n       If thou had'st either drawn\n       The sword or blown the horn,\n     Thoud'st been the luckiest man\n       That ever yet was born.\"\n\nWith teeth chattering, hair on end, and a cold perspiration suffusing\nhis forehead, he made a desperate effort, scrambled somehow or other\nover the stone, and running with fleet footstep, regardless of the\nrough roadway, gained the open air without any other damage than a few\nbruises and a terrible fright. He went home, and had to encounter a\nfearful scolding for remaining out so long and neglecting his work.\nHe told his wife the tale of his adventures, but she only laughed it\nto scorn, saying, \"You old fool! and so you have fallen asleep on the\nhillside and want to persuade me that your dream was a reality. It's\na pretty thing that you should leave your wheel and go mooning about\nin this way, leaving your faithful wife to suffer the effects of your\nidleness.\"\n\nMany a time since then did Peter seek for the ravine but could never\nfind it; but it is confidently assumed that Arthur and his knights are\nstill slumbering under the Castle hill.\n\n\n\n\nThe Doomed City.\n\n\nThrough the valley of Wensleydale, in the North Riding of Yorkshire,\nflows the river Yore or Ure, passing onward to Boroughbridge, below\nwhich town it receives an insignificant affluent--the Ouse--when it\nassumes that name, under which appellation it washes the walls of York,\nand proceeds hence to unite with the Trent in forming the estuary of\nthe Humber; but although it loses its name of Yore before reaching\nYork, the capital city of the county is indebted to it for the name it\nbears. The river in passing through Wensleydale reflects on its surface\nsome of the most romantic and charming landscape scenery of Yorkshire,\nand that is saying a great deal, for no other county can equal it in\nthe variety, loveliness, and wild grandeur of its natural features.\n\n\"In this district, Wensleydale, otherwise Yorevale or Yorevalle,\" says\nBarker, \"a variety of scenery exists, unsurpassed in beauty by any\nin England. Mountains clothed at their summits with purple heather,\ninterspersed with huge crags, and at their bases with luxuriant\nherbage, bound the view on either hand. Down the valley's centre\nflows the winding Yore, one of the most serpentine rivers our island\nboasts--now boiling and foaming, in a narrow channel, over sheets of\nlimestone--now forming cascades only equalled by the cataracts of the\nNile--and anon spreading out into a broad, smooth stream, as calm and\nplacid as a lowland lake. On the banks lie rich pastures, occasionally\nrelieved, at the eastern extremity of the valley, by cornfields.\nThere are several smaller dales branching out of Wensleydale--of\nwhich they may, indeed, be accounted part. Of these the principal are\nBishopdale and Raydale, or Roedale--the valley of the Roe--which last\ncontains Lake Semerwater, a sheet of water covering a hundred and five\nacres, and about forty-five feet deep. Besides this lake, the natural\nobjects of interest in the district best known are Aysgarth Force,\nHardraw-scaur, Mill Gill, and Leyburn Shall--the last a lofty natural\nterrace from which the eye may range from the Cleveland Hills at the\nmouth of the Tees to those bordering upon Westmoreland.\"\n\nThe valley is exceedingly rich in historic memories and noble monuments\nof the architectural past--\"castles and halls inseparably united with\nEnglish story, and abbeys whose names, whilst our national records\nshall be written, must for ever remain on the scroll; with fortresses\nwhich have been the palaces and prisons of kings. Of these, Bolton\nCastle, the home of the Scropes, and one of the prisons of Mary, Queen\nof Scots, and Middleham Castle, where dwelt the great Nevill, the\nking-maker, and the frequent and favourite residence of the Duke of\nGloucester, afterwards King Richard III., and the venerable remains of\nYorevale, or Jervaux, and of Coverham Abbeys, are alone sufficient to\nimmortalise a district of country.\"\n\nIn former times the dale was covered by a dense forest, the home of\ncountless herds of deer, wild boars, wolves, and other wild animals.\nThere were no roads, but glades and trackways, intricate and winding,\nvery difficult and puzzling to traverse, so that travellers often\nbecame benighted, without being able to find other shelter than that\nafforded by trees and bushes. At the village of Bainbridge there\nis still preserved the \"forest horn,\" which was blown every night\nat ten o'clock from Holyrood to Shrovetide, to guide wanderers who\nhad lost their way to shelter and safety from the prowling beasts of\nprey. A bell also was rung at Chantry, and a gun fired at Camhouse\nwith the same object. In the first century of the Christian era there\nexisted in the valley of Roedale a large and for that time splendid\ncity, inhabited by the Brigantian Celts. It nestled in a deep hollow,\nsurrounded by picturesque hills and uplands, and was environed by the\nmajestic trees of the forest, where the Druids performed the mystical\nrites and ceremonials of their religion. The houses were built of mud\nand wattles, and thatched with straw or reeds, and the city was a\nmere assemblage of such private residences, without any of the public\nbuildings, such as churches, chapels, town houses, assembly rooms,\nbaths, or literary institutions, such as now-a-days appertain to every\nsmall market town; yet it was spoken of as a \"magnificent city,\" and\nsuch it perhaps might be as compared with other and smaller towns and\nvillages.\n\nIt was about the time when Flavius Vespasian annexed Britain to\nthe Roman Empire, and the Brigantes had been partially subdued by\nOctavius Scapula, the Roman Governor of Britain, but before York had\nbecome Eboracum--the Altera Roma of Britain--and the influence of the\nconquerors of the world had not penetrated to this remote and secluded\nspot in the forest of Wensleydale, so that the people of the city still\nretained their old religion, customs, and habits of life; still stained\ntheir bodies with woad, clothed themselves with the skins of animals,\nand still fabricated their weapons and implements of bronze. Joseph of\nArimathea had planted the cross on Glastonbury Hill, but the people of\nthis city had never even heard of the new religion that had sprung up\nin Judea, and went on sacrificing human beings to their bloodthirsty\ngod, cutting the sacred mistletoe from the oaks of their forest, and\ndrawing the beaver from the water, emblematic of the salvation of Noah\nand his family at the deluge, of which they had a dim tradition.\n\nThe angels of heaven took great interest in the efforts of the apostles\nwho, in obedience to their Master's command, went forth from Judea to\npreach the gospel of glad tidings and the doctrine of the cross to\nall mankind, and had especially noted the erection of the Christian\nstandard on Glastonbury Hill, in the barbarous and benighted island\nof the Atlantic. One of the heavenly host, indeed, became so much\ninterested in the conversion of the natives of this isle--which\nhe foresaw would, in the distant centuries, become a great centre\nof evangelical truth, and, by means of missionaries, the foremost\npromulgator of religious light to other benighted peoples of the\nearth--that he determined to descend thither, and, under the guise of\na human form, go about amongst the people, and in some measure prepare\nthem for the reception of the teachings of the companions of St. Joseph.\n\nMidwinter had come, the period when the sun seemed to the Britons to be\nfarthest away from the earth, and when, according to the experience of\nthe past, he would commence his return with his vivifying rays; and the\nDruids were holding joyous ceremonial in celebration of this annually\nrecurring event. The sun was viewed as a superhuman beneficent being\nwho journeyed across the heavens daily to dispense heat and life, and\nto cause the fruits and flowers and cereals to bloom and fructify, and\ngive forth food for men and animals, who in summer approached near to\nthe earth, and in winter retired to a distance from it--for what end or\npurpose they knew not. Nevertheless they deemed it wise to propitiate\nhim by two great ceremonials of worship--the one at midsummer, attended\nby blazing \"Baal-fires\" on the hills (a custom which still survives\nin some parts of Yorkshire, where, on Midsummer-eve, \"beal-fires\" are\nlighted), a festival of rejoicing and thanksgiving for the ripening\ncrops and fruits; the other at midwinter, which partook more of the\ncharacter of a supplicating worship, imploring him, now that he was far\ndistant, not to withdraw himself entirely from the earth, but return\nas he had been wont to do, and again cheer the world with his beams of\nbrightness and warmth. On the occasion of this particular festival,\nthe weather was stormy and cold; the pools were frozen over, and the\nground covered with snow, whilst a chilling sleet, driven by a biting\nnorth-eastern wind, beat upon those who were exposed to its influence\nin the open air. The festival was proceeding in a cleared space of the\nforest circled round by lofty trees, which was the open-air natural\ntemple of the Druids; its walls built by the hand of their god, and\nits dome-like roof the floor of the habitation where he dwelt. Whilst\nthe Druids were engaged in offering up prayers, the bards in singing\nanthems of praise, and the vates investigating the entrails of slain\nanimals, to read therein forecasts of the future and the will of the\ngods, especially of the Sun God, in whose honour the festival was\nheld, the venerable figure of an aged man might be seen descending the\nhill and approaching the city. He seemed to be bowed down with the\ninfirmities of age, and to breast with difficulty the forcible rushing\nof the wind. His white flowing beard, which reached almost to his\nwaist, was glittering with incrustations of ice; and his legs trembled\nas he came along, leaning on his staff, with feeble and uncertain\nfootsteps. He was clad in a long gabardine, which he wrapped tightly\nround him, to protect his frame as much as possible from the inclemency\nof the weather; his head was covered by a hat with broad flapping brim;\nand his feet were sandalled, to shield them from the roughness of the\nroad.\n\nHe came amongst the cottages and passed from door to door, asking\nfor shelter and food, but everywhere was repulsed, and at times with\ncontumely and opprobrious epithets. No one would take him in beneath\ntheir roof; no one had charity enough to give him a crust or a cup\nof metheglin, and onward he went until he came to the spot where the\nfestival was progressing under the direction of the Arch-Druid, a man\nof extreme age, but of commanding stature and majestic port.\n\nThe appearance of the angel (for he it was, in the guise of infirm\nand poverty-stricken humanity) caused some sensation, chiefly in\nconsequence of his peculiar and outlandish dress, and all eyes were\ndirected upon him as he walked boldly and unhesitatingly, but with\nhalting step, to the centre of the circle where the hierarchs were\ngrouped.\n\nThe angel, addressing himself to the Arch-Druid, inquired, \"Whom is it\nthat you worship in this fashion?\"\n\n\"Who are you,\" replied the Druid, \"that you know not that our midwinter\nfestival is in honour of the great and gloriously shining God, who\nreveals himself to us in his daily march across the sky?\"\n\n\"Then you worship the creature instead of the creator?\"\n\n\"How the creature? He whom we worship was never created, but has\nexisted from all eternity.\"\n\n\"Alas! blind mortals, you labour under a Satanic delusion. Know that\nwhat you, in your ignorance, worship is but an atom in the great and\nresplendent universe of worlds and suns, called into existence by the\nfiat of Him whom I serve, who alone is self-existent, immortal, and the\nCreator of all men and all things.\"\n\n\"You speak in parables, stranger, and in an impious strain. Mean you\nto say that the god-sun is not great and powerful, he who causes the\nherbage to grow and the trees to give forth fruit? Can he do this if he\nbe not a god?\"\n\n\"He is merely the instrument of the one Almighty God, whose Son, on the\nanniversary of this day, became incarnate on earth, and died on the\ncross in a land far distant from this, that man might not be subjected\nto the penalty for disobedience to His laws, thus dying in his stead,\nto satisfy the ends of justice.\"\n\n\"And you say that he, a mere man, who died in the distant land you\nspeak of, was the son of one who created the sun?\"\n\n\"Most certainly.\"\n\n\"Then I must say that you speak rank blasphemy.\"\n\nAnd the priests and other officials re-echoed the shout, \"Blasphemy!\nblasphemy!\" and the people around took it up, and the cry of\n\"Blasphemy!\" rose up from a thousand tongues.\n\n\"Slay him! stone him!\" was then cried by the excited people, and they\nbegan to take up stones and hurl them at the old man, who, shaking the\nsnow of the city from his sandals, and saying \"Woe be unto you,\" passed\nthrough the surrounding crowd, and disappeared amongst the forest trees.\n\nThe dusky shades of evening, or rather afternoon, were drawing in as\nthe angel passed through the wood; and as, in his incarnate form, he\nwas subject to all the sufferings and discomforts humanity is liable\nto, he feared that he would have to pass the night, with all its\ninclemency of weather, with no other shelter than that afforded by a\ntree trunk or the branches of a bramble bush, but after wandering some\ntime he came upon a cleared space, where he found some sheep huddling\ntogether on the lee side of a rising ground, and judging that where\nsheep were men would not be far distant, he passed up the hillside\nand gladly hailed a gleam of light issuing from a cottage window. He\napproached and knocked at the door, which was opened by a comely,\nmiddle-aged dame, whilst, by the fire of peat, sat a man whom he\npresumed to be her husband, occupied in eating his evening meal, with a\nshepherd dog by his side, eagerly looking out for the bones and chance\npieces of meat which his master might think proper to throw him.\n\n\"Good dame,\" said he to the woman, \"have you charity enough to give\nme shelter from the storm, a crust of bread to allay the cravings of\nhunger, and permission to imbibe warmth from your fire into my aged and\nfrozen limbs?\"\n\n\"Yes, that indeed we have, venerable father,\" replied she. \"Come in and\nseat you by the fire, and we will see what the cottage can supply in\nthe way of victuals.\"\n\nHe stepped in, and was welcomed with equal kindness by the husband,\nwho placed for him a seat near the fire, took off his coat, which he\nsuspended before the fire to dry, and gave him a sheepskin to throw\nover his shoulders; whilst the dame bustled about in the way of cooking\nsome slices of mutton and bringing out some of her best bread, with a\nwooden drinking vessel filled with home-made barley liquor, not unlike\nthe ale of after days.\n\nHe was then invited to seat himself at the table, a board resting\non two trestles, and ate heartily of the viands before him. After\nthe meal, and when he was thoroughly warmed and made comfortable, he\nentered into conversation with the worthy couple, and ascertained that\nthe man was a shepherd, and made a fairly comfortable living out of\nhis small flock of sheep, which supplied him and his wife with raiment\nand flesh meat for food, besides a small surplus for barter to procure\nother necessaries. He told them that he was a wanderer on the face of\nthe earth, not a Briton, but allied to people who lived in the far east\nnear the sun rising, and that he had come hither to tell the Britons\nof the true God, and that they whom they worshipped were not gods at\nall; to all which they listened with wonderment and awe, but displayed\nnone of the bigotry and hostility to adverse faiths which had been so\npractically shown in the city. With eloquent tongue he explained to\nthem the mysteries of the Christian religion, but they comprehended\nhim not, such matters being entirely beyond the capacities of their\nunderstandings. Nevertheless they were much interested in some of\nthe narratives, such as the nativity and the visit of the Magi; the\nmiraculous cures of the sick; the crucifixion, the resurrection, and\nthe ascension, all which were told with great graphic power, and\nlistened to with rapt ears; and they sat on late into the night in this\nconverse, and then a bed of several layers of straw was made for the\nstranger in a warm corner of the cottage, and a couple of sheep skins\ngiven him for coverlets.\n\nThe following morning broke bright and cheerful, a complete contrast\nto the preceding day. The sun came out with a radiance as brilliant as\nit was possible for a midwinter sun to do, and lighted up the hills,\non which the snow crystals glistened, and the roofs of the houses in\nthe valley below, with a splendour seldom beheld at that period of the\nyear, and the people of the city hailed the sight as a response to\ntheir festival prayers, that the God of Day would still continue to\nshower his blessings upon them, and bring forth their crops and fruits\nin due course. The guest at the shepherd's cottage, wearied with his\nwanderings and the buffeting of the storm, slept long after the sun\nhad risen; but his hosts had been up betimes, the shepherd having\ngone to look after his sheep, and his wife to prepare a warm breakfast\nfor him on his return. When this was ready, and the shepherd had come\nhome, their guest was awakened, and partook with them of their meal of\nsheep's flesh, brown bread, and ewe's milk. He had performed certain\ndevotions on rising, such as his entertainers understood not, but which\nthey assumed to be acts of adoration and thanksgiving to his God.\n\nResuming his cloak, now thoroughly dried, his flapped hat, and his\nlong walking staff, he went out to pursue his journey. With his hosts\nhe stood on the elevated ground on which the cottage was situated, and\nlooked down upon the city in the valley below, from which there rose up\nthe busy hum of voices of men going about their vocations for the day,\nwith them the first of their new-born year.\n\nThe stranger looked down upon the city for some moments in silence;\nthen stretching forth his arms towards it, he exclaimed, \"Oh city! thou\nart fair to look upon, but thou art the habitation of hard, unfeeling,\nand uncharitable men, who regard themselves alone, and neither respect\nage nor sympathise with poverty and infirmity! Thou art the abode\nof those who worship false gods, and shut their ears to, nay, more,\nmaltreat those who would point out their errors and lead them into the\npath of truth; therefore, oh city! it is fitting that thou shouldst\ncease to cumber the earth; that thou shouldst be swept away as were\nSodom and Gomorrah. As for you,\" he added, turning to the shepherd and\nhis wife, \"you took the stranger in under your roof, sheltered him\nfrom the storm, fed him when ahungered, and comforted him as far as\nyour means permitted. For this accept my thanks and benison, and know\nthat my benison is worth the acceptance, for I am not what I seem--a\nfrail mortal--but one of those who stand round the throne of the God\nI told you of last evening, which is in the midst of the stars of the\nfirmament. May your flocks increase, and your crops never fail; may you\nlive to advanced age, and see your children and children's children\ngrow up around you, wealthy in this world's wealth, honoured, and\nrespected.\" Turning again towards the city, and again stretching forth\nhis arms over it, the mysterious stranger cried out in a voice that\nmight be heard in the streets below:--\n\n    \"Semerwater, rise; Semerwater, sink;\n     And swallow all the town, save this lile\n     House, where they gave me meat and drink.\"\n\nImmediately a loud noise was heard, as of the bursting up of a hundred\nfountains from the earth, and the water rushed upward from every part\nof the city like the vomiting of volcanoes; the inhabitants cried out\nwith terror-fraught shouts, and attempted to escape up the hills, but\nwere swept back by the surging flood, which waved and dashed like\nthe waves of the tempestuous sea. Higher and higher rose the water;\noverwhelmed the houses and advanced up the sides of the hill, engulfing\neverything and destroying every vestige of life, and eventually it\nsettled down into the vast lake as it may now be seen.\n\nIt may be thought that this was a cruel act of revenge on the part of\nthe angel, but we have the authority of Milton, that the angelic mind\nwas susceptible of the human weakness of ambition; why, therefore,\nshould it not be actuated by that other human passion of revenge?\n\nThe shepherd and his wife gazed on the spectacle of the destruction\nof the city with awe-stricken countenances, when another spectacle\nfilled them with equal amazement. They turned their eyes upon their\nguest, who still stood by them, but who was undergoing a wonderful\ntransformation. From an aged and infirm man he was becoming youthful\nin appearance, of noble figure, with lineaments of celestial beauty,\nand an aureola of golden light flashing round his head. His tattered\nand way-worn garments seemed to be melting into thin air and passing\naway, and in their place appeared a long white robe, as if woven of the\nsnow crystals of the surrounding hills; whilst from his shoulders there\nstreamed forth a pair of pinions, which he now expanded, and waving an\nadieu to his late entertainers, he rose up into the air, and in a few\nminutes had passed beyond their sight.\n\nThe shepherd's flocks soon began to multiply wonderfully, and he\nspeedily became one of the richest men of the countryside. His sons\ngrew up and prospered as their father had, and their descendants\nflourished for many generations in their several branches as some\nof the most important and wealthy families of the district. The old\nman and his wife abandoned the old Druidical religion, and prayed to\nthe unknown God of whom their guest spoke on the memorable evening\npreceding the destruction of the city; and when the Apostles of\nChristianity came hither, were among the first converts. There may be\nsceptics who may doubt the truth of this legend, but there the Lake of\nSemerwater still remains, and what can be a more convincing proof of\nits truth, as old Willet was wont to say, when pointing to the block\nof wood at the door of his inn at Chigwell, as a triumphant proof\nof the truth of the story he had been narrating. The rustics of the\nneighbourhood also assert that they have seen, fathoms deep in the\nlake, the chimneys and church spires of the engulfed city; but as there\nwere neither churches nor chimneys when that city was in existence, we\nare inclined to believe that this is an optical delusion.\n\n\n\n\nThe \"Worm\" of Nunnington.\n\n\nA charming pastoral scene might have been witnessed in the picturesque\nvalley of Ryedale, northward of Malton, and not far distant from the\nspot where, in after ages, sprung up the towers of Byland Abbey, one\nfair midsummer eve in the earlier half of the sixth century--a scene\nthat would have gladdened the heart of a painter, and made him eager\nto transfer it to canvas, to display it on the walls of the next Royal\nAcademy Exhibition, had painters and Royal Academy Exhibitions been\nthen in vogue. It was in a village near the banks of the Rye--the\nprecursor of what is now called Nunnington; what was its Celtic name we\nare informed not, but it was a Celtic village, and inhabited by Celtic\npeople, who had been Christianised, and taught the usages and habits\nof civilized life during the supremacy of the Romans in the island,\nwho had now departed to defend the capital of the world against the\nincursions of the hordes of barbarians who were thundering at its\ngates, leaving the Britons, enervated by civilisation and its attendant\nluxuries, a prey to the Picts and Scots and the Teutonic pirates who\ninfested the surrounding seas.\n\nIt was an age of chivalry and romance; the half real, half mythical\nArthur ruled over the land, and made head against the Scots and the\nTeutons, defeating both in several battles. He instituted the chivalric\nOrder of Knights of the Round Table--whose members were patterns of\nvalour and exemplars in religion, and who went forth as knights-errant\nto correct abuses, protect the fairer and weaker sex, chastise\noppressors, release those who were under spells of enchantment, and\ndo battle with giants, ogres, malicious dwarfs, and enchanters, also\nwith dragons, hippogriffs, wyverns, serpents, and other similarly\nobnoxious creatures. Who hath not read of their marvellous adventures\nand valorous exploits in the quest of the Sang-real, the histories\nof Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram, La Morte d'Arthur, and the Idylls\nof the King? Witches and warlocks, sorcerers and ogres, tyrants and\noppressors, then abounded in the land, and beauteous damsels, the\nvictims of their cruelty and lust, so that there was plenty of work,\nto say nothing of the reptiles of the forests, for the entire army of\nvaliant knights who went forth from Caerleon on the Usk in quest of\nadventures, inspired by the approving smile of Queen Guinevere and\nof the fair ladies in whose honour they placed lance in rest, and\nwhose supremacy of beauty they vowed to maintain in many a joust and\ntournament.\n\nThe village lay in a spot where nature had spread out some of her\nloveliest features of valley, upland, and meandering river of silvery\nsheen running through the midst; whilst trees of luxuriant foliage, in\ngroups and thickets of forest land, enshrined the whole as a fitting\nframework for the sylvan picture. Farmsteads were scattered about, and\na cluster of humbler cottages, the habitations of the serf class of\nfarm labourers constituted the village.\n\nAs we have seen, it was Midsummer Eve, a day of festival and\nrejoicing which had been observed from time immemorial, for now the\nsun approached the nearest to the zenith with its fructifying beams,\nand in celebration of the event a huge bonfire had been built up on\nan eminence outside the village; whilst around it, hand in hand,\ndanced the youths and maidens with much glee and merriment, with\nboisterous mirth, and many a joke and song, and moreover with no lack\nof flirtation between the lads and lasses, who footed it merrily, and\nbecame more and more vigorous in the dances as the flames mounted\nhigher and higher. Although they knew it not, this village carnival\nwas a survival of the paganism of the past, when the remote ancestors\nof the existing generation worshipped Baal, the great Sun God. It\nhad come down through centuries of homage to the creature instead of\nthe Creator, and having been regarded as a great holiday, did not\nsuffer extinction at the advent of Christianity, but was permitted\nto be retained in that capacity, without any reference to religious\nceremonial, which in course of time was entirely forgotten. And it is\na remarkable instance of the vitality of ancient customs to observe\nthat in some parts of Yorkshire, in Holderness to wit, \"Beal fires\" are\nlighted on Midsummer Eve, even to the present day.\n\nThe elders of the village were seated about in groups on the turf,\nwatching the upblazing of the fire, casting approving smiles on the\njoyous gambols and incipient match-making of their progeny, and\ntalking of their own juvenile days, when they were equally happy\npartners in the circling dance. The blue sky overhead was cloudless,\nand in the western horizon the setting sun shot forth beams of golden\nlight; and all was hilarity and happiness. A queen of the festival had\nbeen chosen--the most beautiful maiden of the village, a sweet girl of\neighteen, with brilliant complexion, melting blue eyes, and flowing\ncurls of flaxen hue. A platform of boughs had been improvised upon\nwhich to carry her on the shoulders of a half-dozen young bachelors\nback to the village with songs of triumph, and the procession had\njust been arranged, when a loud hissing sound was heard to issue from\nthe neighbouring forest, a sound which in these days would have been\nattributed to a passing railway train; but which then sounded strange\nand unearthly, and spread consternation among the merrymakers, who\nturned and looked with panic-stricken countenances in the direction\nfrom whence the sound came.\n\nThe first impulse of the crowd was to fly to their homes, from the\nunknown object of dread, but curiosity prompted a counter-impulse,\na desire to see what gave rise to the fear-inspiring sound. Nor had\nthey long to wait, for a few minutes after a monstrous reptile, with\nthe body of a serpent and the head of a dragon, its mouth seeming, to\ntheir excited imaginations, to breathe out flame, issued from the wood\nand came across the open space with fearful but graceful undulations\ntowards the terrified villagers. The air appeared to become charged,\ntoo, with a pestiferous influence, issuing from the nostrils of the\nmonster, which increased in intensity the nearer it came. With shrieks\nand wild cries, those who had been dancing so merrily but a few\nminutes before took to their heels to find refuge in their cottages,\nexclaiming, \"Oh, that Sir Peter Loschi were here to deliver us from\nthe monster!\" All reached their habitations and barred their doors;\nall save one, the beautiful young queen of the festival, the pride of\nthe village--the beloved of every one--who, fascinated like a bird\nby the eyes of the reptile, had stood gazing upon it so long that\nshe was quite in the rear of the fugitives, and was overtaken by the\nserpent, who immediately coiled the foremost part of its body round\nher, and in this fashion carried her back into the forest. As she did\nnot reappear, it was concluded that she had been devoured; and day\nafter day one young damsel after another disappeared after going to\nthe spring for water, or on other open-air errands, all of whom, it\nwas doubted not, had furnished meals for the monster. Indeed, at times\nhe was seen carrying them off as he had done the poor little queen,\nuntil at length the village seemed to be becoming depopulated of its\nmaidenhood. The men at times went armed with bludgeons to attack the\nserpent in his cave on the hill side, but were ever driven back by the\npoisonous exhalations of the animal's breath, which seemed to render\nthem faint and powerless; and two or three of the bolder spirits who\napproached the nearest to the den died under its influence. And the\npeople continued to cry, \"Oh, Sir Peter Loschi, why do you tarry?\"--for\nin him lay all their hope of deliverance.\n\nThis Sir Peter Loschi, whose aid was so frequently and fervently\ninvoked, was the owner of a castle and certain broad acres in the\nvicinity. He was a Celt of unadulterated blood, although his name has\nnothing Celtic about it. Single names were then only used, with the\nexception of an addition of some personal characteristic or locality,\nfor distinction sake when there were two persons bearing the same,\nand we may suppose that the two names of Peter and Loschi originally\nformed one word, which has become altered and corrupted in passing from\ngeneration to generation, in a similar manner to that of George Zavier,\nwhich became transmuted through Georgy Zavier, etc., to eventually\nCorky Shaver. Be that as it may, he was the last male of a long line\nof ancient British knights and warriors, and was himself not inferior\nto any of his ancestors in military skill and almost reckless daring,\nhaving fought with distinction against the wild hordes of Picts and\nScots, who came down from their desolate northern mountains to make\nraids on the more fertile lands of the Britons south of the Border,\nand against the piratical Saxons and Angles who were endeavouring to\nget a foothold on the island. He was one of King Arthur's Knights of\nthe Round Table, and was often at the Court of Queen Guinevere at\nCaerleon, consorting with his brother knights in the mutual recital of\ntheir adventures, in friendly tilting matches, and in dallying with the\nfair ladies of the Court, one of whom he had chosen as the mistress of\nhis heart, and whose favour he wore in front of his helmet at many\na passage of arms in the courtyard of a castle or in the field of a\ntournament. Occasionally he went forth for periods of six or twelve\nmonths as a knight-errant, for the purpose of redressing wrongs,\nslaying enchanters, etc., and was known as the Knight of the Sable\nPlume, from that ornamental appendage of his casque. The cognisance\nthat he bore on his shield was a chevron arg. between three plumes\nsable, on ground or; and many a doughty deed had he performed, young as\nhe still was, under this cognisance.\n\nHe did not spend much time at his ancestral home in Ryedale, being\nso much occupied at Court and in the quest of adventures as a\nknight-errant, only going there occasionally to regulate matters\nrelating to his household and estates, look after his vassals and\nretainers, and make arrangements for the well-being of the villagers.\nHe had now been absent about three years, having, at the instance of\nhis ladye-love at Caerleon, donned his armour, taken his lance in\nhand, and gone for that space of time to protect the impotent, redress\nthe injured and oppressed, and slay giants and sorcerers, as a test\nof his valour, at the end of which said period, if he had acquitted\nhimself as a preux-chevalier, she might possibly consent to become the\nmistress of Ryedale Castle. The period was now drawing to a close, and\nhe had performed many a valorous deed; he had slain a gigantic Saxon in\nsingle combat; he had recovered the standard of King Arthur from some\nhalf-dozen Picts, who had seized it after killing the bearer of it; he\nhad rescued a damsel from the hands of an enchanter; another from the\nfangs and claws of a lion, and a third from a giant who was dragging\nher along by the hair of her head; he had killed a dragon, a griffin,\nand a hippogriff, had done many another wondrous and valorous deed,\nand was now going back to Caerleon to claim the hand of the lady at\nwhose behest he had performed all these marvellous achievements, little\ndreaming all the time that his own people in Ryedale were in sore need\nof his stalwart arm and trusty sword.\n\nAs the knight had been northward, it was necessary to pass through\nwhat is now Yorkshire on his way to Caerleon, and he deemed it\nexpedient to call at his Ryedale Castle to see how matters had been\ngoing on there during his long absence. It was about a month after\nthe first appearance of the \"worm,\" when the villagers were beginning\nto experience the truth of the saying that \"hope deferred maketh the\nheart sick,\" having lost many members of their community through the\npropensity of the serpent for human flesh, and no Sir Peter coming\nto deliver them from the ravages of the monster, when the figure of\na horseman, with a nodding black plume, was seen \"pricking o'er the\nplain,\" who was immediately recognised as the veritable Sir Peter\nLoschi, which gave rise to an exhilarating shout of welcome from the\nvillagers, who cried, \"Now shall we be delivered from the ravenous\nworm.\" Sir Peter rode on to his castle, where the first being to\nwelcome him was a favourite mastiff, who came gambolling about him\nwith the most affectionate demonstrations of rejoicing at seeing his\nmaster once more. The following morning a deputation of the villagers\nwaited upon him, explained their troubles in respect to the worm, and\nprayed for his assistance in ridding them of the monster. He inquired\ninto the particulars, and having been accustomed in his travels to\nseveral encounters with noxious animals of this character, he readily\nunderstood what he would have to deal with, and promised his aid, but\nadded that as some preparations would be necessary, the enemy being\nof an exceptional description, he would not be able to undertake it\nwithin a month, and that they must endure it the best they could in the\ninterval.\n\nSir Peter got a sight of the serpent, and a formidable monster he\nappeared to be, more terrible than any he had previously met with;\nand he saw that it behoved him to make special provision for the\ncombat. He pondered the matter over for a few days, and then mounted\nhis steed and rode to Sheffield, where he employed certain cunning\nartificers to make him a complete suit of armour studded with razor\nblades. Although razors are alluded to by Homer, and have been used\nby the Chinese for unknown centuries, it is doubtful whether they\nwere a staple manufacture on the banks of the Sheaf and the Rivelin\nin the sixth century. It is true that Chaucer speaks of a \"Sheffield\nwhittle,\" but this was eight centuries afterwards, and it is equally to\nbe doubted whether Sheffield, even as a village, existed at that time;\nbut anachronisms are of small moment in legends, and we are required\nto accept it as a fact, that the knight had his novel suit of armour\nfabricated in the valley of the Sheaf.\n\nWhen it was completed, he returned with it to Ryedale, and gladly was\nhe welcomed by the villagers, as the serpent had been committing more\nravages amongst the population. He had a sword, a Damascus blade of\nwonderful keenness, which possessed certain magical properties, similar\nto those of King Arthur's famous Excaliber; and one morning, after\ndonning his armour, he took the sword in his hand and went forth to the\ncombat. His dog accompanied him, and it was with difficulty that he was\nprevented from leaping up in caressing gambols against the sharp razor\nblades.\n\nThe serpent had its den in the side of a wooded eminence near East\nNewton, by Stonegrave, which has since then gone by the name of Loschy\nHill, in memory of the great fight between the Knight and the Dragon.\nSir Peter, who was on foot, strode along boldly towards the hill,\nfollowed by his dog, which seemed to be perfectly aware that some\nexciting sport was before them, as he rushed about hither and thither,\nsniffing the air, as if his keen scent gave him intimation that game of\nan unusual character was not far off, and he barked and growled, as\nif in defiance of the foe; whilst the villagers stood afar off, with\neager countenances, to watch the progress of the combat. As the knight\ncame nearer, he became aware of a pestiferous odour that seemed to\ncontaminate the air; and the dog scented and sniffed, and gave vent to\nmore prolonged growlings and louder barking, and seemed to tremble with\nexcitement in anticipation of the coming fray.\n\nThe serpent had not yet breakfasted, and seeing the man and dog\napproach, darted from his den and made for the dog, with which he\nthought to stay his appetite as a first mouthful, but the dog was too\nnimble and eluded his attack, leaping upon one of the curves of its\nbody and biting it with mad excitement; whilst the knight struck it a\nblow with his sword which almost cut off its head, but the wound healed\nup instantly, and the serpent coiled itself round his body, in order\nto crush the life out of him, and then devour him at its leisure. It\nhad not, in doing so, taken into account the razor blades, which cut\nits body in a multitude of gashes, and caused the blood to stream down\non the earth; but this was not of much consequence, as it immediately\nuncoiled and rolled itself on the earth, when all the wounds closed\nup. Foiled in this attack, the monster then began to vomit out a\npoisonous vapour, so horrible and overcoming that the knight seemed\nready to sink under its influence, but rallying his energies, he aimed\na blow which cut the serpent in two, but the severed parts joined\nagain immediately. All this time the monster was hissing in a fearful\nmanner, and breathing out poison, and the knight began to fear he must\nsuccumb and become its prey; but determined not to give in so long as\nhe could continue the fight, he aimed another blow with his sword and\nsevered a portion of the tail end, although feeling persuaded that it\nwould become reunited as before; but his dog, evidently a sagacious\nanimal, having witnessed the former reunion, seized it in its teeth\nand ran off with it to a neighbouring hill, then returned and carried\naway other portions as they were cut off successively. The serpent\nwrithed with pain, but afraid, or seeing the uselessness of attacking\nthe razor-armed man, made many attempts to seize the dog, but in vain,\nas he was too agile to be caught; therefore he depended more on the\nvenom of his breath at this juncture, which he continued to pour forth,\nand which he knew must eventually overpower his enemy. The dog had\nreturned from his third or fourth journey and came up to his master,\nwagging his tail in seeming congratulation of the cleverness with which\nthey were gradually accomplishing the destruction of the foe, when the\nserpent made a spring upon him, but at the same instant the knight's\nmagic sword descended upon his neck and severed the head from the body,\nwhich the dog at once seized and carried off to a distance, placing it\non a hill near where Nunnington Church now stands.\n\nThe monster was now dead which had caused so much terror and\ndesolation, and the villagers shouted with joy as they saw the head\ncarried past by the dog. Meanwhile the knight stood by the remaining\nportion of the body as it lay prone on the earth, quivering with the\nremains of its vitality. He was exhausted with his exertions, but more\nby the poisonous exhalation which the body still gave forth, but in\nrapidly diminishing volume. He was recovering from its effects and\nwas waiting awhile to gain sufficient energy to leave the scene of\nhis triumph, when the dog returned, but apparently in a very languid\ncondition; still, however, evincing marks of satisfaction and pleasure\nat the conquest he and his master had achieved. The knight stooped down\nto pat caressingly his faithful companion, who, in return, reached up\nand licked his face. Unfortunately, in carrying away the head, the\nseat of the venom, the dog had imbibed the poison, and in licking his\nmaster's face had imparted the virus to him, and a few minutes were\nsufficient to produce its fatal effects, the knight and his dog falling\nto the earth together, and when the villagers came up they found both\ndead.\n\nAlthough the villagers were rejoiced at the death of the serpent, their\nlamentations were equally great over the fate of the knight, who had\nsacrificed his life for their deliverance; and for many a month and\nyear did they cherish his memory and mourn his death.\n\nIn Nunnington Church there is a monument of a knight, a recumbent\neffigy, with a dog crouching at his feet; and this, tradition says, is\nthe tomb of the valorous Sir Peter Loschi and his equally valorous dog,\nwho were buried together, and the monument erected in grateful memory\nof their achievement.\n\n\n\n\nThe Devil's Arrows.\n\n\nOne of the most interesting localities in broad Yorkshire, rich in\nhistoric lore and fruitful in legend, is that which comprehends within\nits limits the twin towns of Aldborough and Boroughbridge, on the river\nUre. Their history extends back to the Celtic and Roman times, when\nAldborough or Iseur, the Isurium of the Romans, was the capital of the\nBrigantian Celts, and near by ran northward from York a great Roman\nroad, which crossed the Ure by a ford, which was supplanted after the\nConquest by a wooden bridge, which gave rise to a great convergence of\nroads at this point, and the growth of a town, which obtained the name\nof Boroughbridge, _i.e._, the borough by the bridge.\n\nThis spot, says Dr. Stukeley, was in the British time \"the scene of\nthe great Panegyre of the Druids, the midsummer meeting of all the\ncountry round, to celebrate the great quarterly sacrifice, accompanied\nwith sports, games, races, and all kinds of exercises, with universal\nfestivity. This was like the Olympian and Nemean meetings and games\namong the Grecians.\"\n\nBetween the two towns there stands protruding from the earth three\nrough-hewn and weather-worn obelisks of rag-stone or mill-stone grit,\nwhich could not have been brought from a distance of less than seven\nmiles, and gave rise to a sense of wonder how such stupendous masses\ncould have been brought hither and placed upright in position by the\nCelts with their utter lack of mechanical appliances. The northernmost\nrises eighteen feet, the southernmost twenty-two and a half feet,\nand the centre one also twenty-two and a half feet above the ground,\nand from an excavation made under the latter, it was found to have\nan entire length of thirty feet six inches. The estimated weight of\nthe northernmost is thirty-six tons, and of the other two thirty tons\neach. Originally there were four stones, which were seen by Leland in\nHenry VIII.'s time; but one of them fell or was removed for the sake of\nthe materials--useful for road repairing--in the seventeenth century.\nCamden imagined them to be factitious compositions of sand, lime,\nand small pebbles cemented together; but there is no doubt they were\nquarried at Plumpton, the rock there corresponding exactly with their\ngrit. The Romans made use of them as met\u00e6, the turning point in their\nchariot races. There have been varying and differing conjectures by\nantiquaries as to their origin and purpose, but all agree as to their\nremote antiquity, dating back certainly 1800 years, the most probable\nconjecture as to their purpose being that they were connected in\nsome way with Druidical worship. They go by the name of \"The Devil's\nArrows,\" and tradition gives an account of their origin altogether\ndifferent from antiquarian conjectures, and much more in accordance\nwith their popular designation. Thus runs the legend:--\n\nIt was soon after the Crucifixion that certain Apostles of the\nCross, headed by Joseph of Arimathea, found their way from Palestine\nto the remote and benighted isle of Britain, in obedience to the\nDivine command to go forth and preach the Gospel to every creature.\nAfter their disembarkation they proceeded inland until they came to\nGlastonbury; and ascending the hill there, Joseph struck his walking\nstaff in the earth and proclaimed that there should be established\nthe first Christian church of Britain, and in confirmation thereof his\nstaff miraculously took root, put forth branches, and although it was\nmidwinter--Christmas Day--budded and blossomed into a rose, as its\nsuccessors here continued to do on every successive Christmas Day.\nThe Apostles preached to the barbarian people, made some converts,\nand erected a temporary wooden church for the performance of divine\nservice, which was the precursor of the magnificent Abbey that\nafterwards rose on the site, and flourished in great prosperity until\nits extinction under the sacrilegious hand of Henry the Eighth.\n\nWhen the new faith had taken root at Glastonbury, the Apostles divided\nthemselves into bands of two or three, and departed north, south, east,\nand west, to proclaim the glad tidings in other parts of the island.\nOne of these bands, going northwards, preached to the Cornabii and the\nCoritani of Mid-Britain, and then passed onward to the Brigantes, the\ngreatest and most warlike of the kingdoms of Britain. They travelled\non foot, staff in hand, and subsisted on the charity of the people;\nbut had often to endure great hardships, having often to pass through\nscantily peopled districts, where wild fruits were their only food, the\nwater of the wayside brooks their drink, and their sleeping couches the\nheather of the moor or the turf under the canopy of a forest tree. But\nall these discomforts they endured with cheerfulness, besides perils\nfrom wolves, wild boars, and other denizens of the woodlands, feeling\nassured that their Master would reward them a thousand-fold for their\nsufferings in His service.\n\nOn entering the Brigantian kingdom they learned that the capital city\nwas Iseur, some considerable distance northward, and thither they bent\ntheir way in the hope of enlightening the King in spiritual matters\nas a means of facilitating the conversion of his people. With wearied\nsteps they passed from village to village, through forests and swamps,\nand over black moorlands, fording the rivers where practicable, or\nwhere they were too deep for so doing going along the bank until they\nmet with a fisherman or villager to ferry them across in his coracle;\nand in due course, after many days of toilsome journeying, came to the\ncity of Iseur.\n\nThe city stood in a forest clearing, surrounded by a stockade of\nfelled trees, with an entrenchment for protection against enemies,\nand for the security of their flocks and herds against the attacks\nof wild beasts. In the centre stood the King's Palace, a tolerably\nspacious edifice built of unhewn blocks of stone, placed in cyclopean\nfashion without mortar; and scattered around were the mud-built and\nstraw-thatched dwellings of the people. There was no temple of their\ndeity, the gods of the Britons disdaining mortal-built places of\nworship. But adjacent was a separate forest clearing, with a circling\nof huge forest oaks, on which grew the sacred mistletoe, which\nconstituted a temple not built with hands; and in which was a pool of\nwater, indispensable in the ceremonials of their religion, where the\nbeaver abounded, and was used as an emblem of the flood, of which the\nBritons had a tradition; and here were constructed the wickerwork forms\nof gigantic human beings, which at certain seasons were filled with\nmen, women, and children, and burnt to propitiate the wrath of their\ngod.\n\nThey proceeded to the palace of the King and asked for an audience,\nwhich was granted them after some demur; the King feeling uncertain,\nfrom the description his attendants gave of their foreign aspect,\noutlandish dresses, and imperfect utterance of the British language,\nwhether they might not be enemies, assassins, or sorcerers come hither\nto take his life or subject him to some other evil. He received them\nseated on a sort of throne, clad in a white, coarsely woven tunic of\nwool reaching half way down his thighs, and leaving the lower limbs\naltogether uncovered, and over his shoulders a wolf-skin mantle,\nwhilst he supported his dignity by holding in his right hand a long\nbronze-headed spear, with a richly-carved shaft. By his side sat his\nQueen, and at his feet gambolled three or four children, whilst around\nhim stood representatives of the Druidical hierarchy--the Druids proper\nor high priests, the Eubates or soothsayers, and the Bards who chanted\nanthems to the glory of their god and recited odes in praise of the\nwarriors and great men of their race.\n\nThe King inquired of the strangers who they were and what was their\npurpose in thus coming to his court. The Apostles replied that they\nwere people of a far distant land, near the sunrising, and had come\nhither to show them their errors in worshipping false gods, and point\nout to them the true object of worship, the one only God, the Maker\nof heaven and earth, and the awarder of happiness or misery in the\nfuture life beyond the grave. A murmur of dissatisfaction arose at this\nannouncement amongst the Druids, who whispered amongst themselves that\nit was fitting such blasphemers should be offered up as sacrifices to\ntheir god.\n\n\"Truly,\" said the King, \"you have come on a strange errand; we are\nfirm believers in and devout worshippers of the one Supreme God, as\nyou pretend to be. Do we not yearly offer up on His altars hundreds of\nhuman victims to propitiate His good-will? What more would you have?\nWe believe what you do, and a great deal more, for we have a host of\nminor deities whom we pay adoration to. Methinks you had better return\nto your own country and not trouble us with your hallucinations, so as\nto cause a schism in the faith. We are content with our own belief,\nwhich teaches us that when we die the souls of those who have done\njustly will pass gradually into a higher and higher sphere, until at\nlength, when perfectly purified, it will become absorbed in the essence\nof the Deity, or become an inferior god; whilst those of the wicked\nwill be transformed to the bodies of inferior and unclean animals, and\neventually be annihilated.\"\n\nThe Apostles upon this explained briefly the principles of the\nChristian religion, the fall of man and his loss of the divine favour,\nhis necessary condemnation to temporal and eternal death, and the\nredemptorial scheme, in which God himself, or rather his Son, who\nwas identical with himself, suffered death on the cross, taking upon\nhimself, in lieu of man, the threatened penalty.\n\n\"Is your God dead, then?\" inquired the King; \"or is it possible for God\nto die. If so, our faith is better than yours, for our God is immortal.\"\n\nThe Apostles then entered into an elaborate disquisition on the\nsubtleties of the necessity and nature of the Divine scheme for the\nsalvation of the human race, but the reasonings were too abstruse\nfor the King's comprehension, as, indeed, were they for the more\ncultured minds of the Druids; therefore the King declined any further\ndiscourse on the subject, adding that he was perfectly willing that\nthey should be courteously treated and have fair play, as they had\ncome so far with the intent, as it seemed to them, of doing him and\nhis people a service; therefore he would appoint a day on which they\nshould have a full and fair discussion with the Druids on the merits of\nthe respective faiths, and in the meantime they should be hospitably\nentertained at his cost, and with this the audience terminated.\n\nIt happened that at this time the Father of Evil was prowling about\nBritain, with the object of thwarting the efforts of St. Joseph and his\nband of missionaries for the evangelisation of the land. He employed\nhimself chiefly about Glastonbury and its neighbourhood, the primitive\nand central seat of British Christianity, and centuries elapsed before\nhe relaxed his persistent attempt to eradicate the faith, hostile to\nhimself, which had taken root there. Nine hundred years afterwards we\nfind that he was a perpetual annoyance to the holy St. Dunstan in his\nGlastonbury cell, continually intruding upon him when engaged in his\nstudies, and offering to him the most seductive temptations, until, on\none occasion, he made his appearance before him when he was engaged on\nsome blacksmith work, and commenced tempting him to sell his soul to\nhim for unbounded wealth and the highest temporal distinction. The\nsaint, however, was proof against his temptations, and resolved to free\nhimself once for all from his importunities, took his red-hot tongs\nfrom the fire, and seized him by the nose. The devil roared out lustily\nwith the pain, although one would fancy, from fire being his natural\nelement, that it would not incommode him greatly; nevertheless, he\nprayed abjectly to be released from the tongs, but the saint would not\nrelease him until he promised to give him no further annoyance.\n\nHe had followed in the footsteps of the three Apostles on the northern\nmission, and was present, although invisible, at the interview with the\nKing of the Brigantes; and when the conference between the Apostles\nand the Druids was arranged by the King, he determined upon presenting\nhimself at the meeting in a more tangible and palpable form, to\noverthrow the arguments of the former by the power of his eloquence and\nlogical force of reasoning, feeling exceedingly loth to run the risk\nof losing so cherished a section of his dominions, which would ensue\nin case the King should be convinced by the preaching and the powerful\narguments of the Apostles.\n\nThe conference was appointed to come off on the slopes of the Hambleton\nHills, at the foot of Roulston Crag and there, on the auspicious\nmorning, might be seen a large assemblage gathered together, presenting\na very animated and picturesque grouping. The King, as president of\nthe assembly, took his seat on an improvised throne. He was clothed\nin the most splendid of his regal vestments, and held in his hand\nhis bronze-headed spear, as an emblem of his Royal authority. On his\nright stood a group of Druids, clad in long white linen robes, with\ncirclets of oak leaves round their heads, and on his left the three\nChristian Apostles, in their weather-stained Oriental garments, whilst\nscattered around, was a considerable number of Brigantian warriors,\ncourtiers, agriculturists, and serfs more or less garmented in coarse\nwoollen fabrics or skins of animals, or without clothing of any kind,\nbut with painted or tattooed skins, on which were depicted figures of\nthe sun, the moon, and sundry animals. The King opened the proceedings\nby stating the object of the meeting, and calling upon the Apostles\nto explain what they wished to inculcate, promising them a fair and\ncandid hearing, and assuring them that if what they said appeared at\nall consonant with reason, it should have due consideration. In all\nrespects the meeting was very similar to that which was convened nearly\n600 years afterwards by Eadwine, King of Northumbria, for a discussion\nof the merits of Christianity, between St. Paulinus, the apostle of\nRome, and Coiffi, the High Priest of Woden, which resulted in the\nsecond establishment of Christianity in the district, which constitutes\nthe modern Yorkshire. Just as one of the Apostles was commencing to\nspeak, a venerable Druid, with a beard reaching half-way down to\nhis waist, and attired in the official long white robe, entered the\nassembly, and made his obeisance to the King, who inquired who he was\nand whither he had come. \"I am the High Priest, oh King,\" he replied,\n\"of the great and famous forest temple of Llyn yr a vanc\" (on the site\nof the modern Beverley). \"A report came thither that certain strangers\nhad come to the Court of Iseur from some distant land, to promulgate a\nforeign and damnable heresy; and I, as being well versed in the truths\nof our faith, and gifted with an eloquent tongue, have been deputed\nby my brethren to attend this conference, and aid, to the best of my\nability, in discomfiting these foreign heretics, whose object is to\nuproot our holy religion and substitute a false theological creed.\"\n\n\"You are welcome!\" said the King. \"Take your place among your brother\nDruids on my right. Give heed to what the strangers have to say, and\nreply to their arguments as your reason and lengthened experience may\ndictate.\"\n\nThe stranger took the place indicated, and the King bade the Apostles\ntell what they had to say on the object of their mission, upon which\nthe eldest looking of the three, stretching forth his arms as Raphael\ndepicted Paul when preaching at Athens, commenced his harangue by\ngiving an outline of the history of man as recorded in the Scriptures,\nhis fall from innocence and perfection, by the seductions of the\nenemy of mankind, who for his rebellious ambition had been banished\nfrom heaven and cast down into hell, and who since then had been\ngoing to and fro in the earth tempting man to sin against his Maker,\nin which he had been so successful that God repented of having made\nman, and had caused all mankind to perish save one family, and then\nexplained that afterwards, when the earth had again become populated,\nhe compassionated man's fallen estate, and had sent his Son to take\non himself the penalty due to man's transgression, that all, through\nhim, might be placed in a state of salvation from that death eternal\nwhich they inherited from the transgression of their first ancestor;\nand wound up by imploring the King and all present to abandon their\nimpotent and bloodthirsty gods, believe in the God of Mercy whom they\nproclaimed, and accept the salvation offered through the merits of Him\nwho was crucified.\n\nThe Druid, who had come afar, then rose and craved permission to\nreply, which was granted, and he stood forth on a mass of rock, with\na majestic presence and dignified air. He laughed to scorn the fables\nwhich they had listened to, which were only fit to delude the ears\nof silly old women, and could not be accepted for a moment by men\nendowed with the faculty of reasoning. \"We are told,\" said he, \"that\nman was made perfect, and was at the same time fallible; that God is\nimmutable, and yet repented; that a creature, the work of His hands,\nhas become His rival, and from what we hear has become even more potent\nthan his Maker; has set up a rival kingdom, and is able to wrest from\nthe hands of God three-fourths of the beings whom He creates, a God\nwho is asserted to be omnipotent; with many such subtle questions,\ninquiring--Can these be compatible with reason, and can you, as men of\nsense, believe them?\" He then descanted on the superior merits of the\nDruidical religion, contrasting its \"simple truth\" with the \"absurd\nfables told us by these foreigners;\" concluding with a forcible and\neloquent appeal to those who listened to him not to abandon the gods\nof their fathers, and go hankering after strange gods, especially such\nas were recommended by such baseless arguments and improbable tales as\nthey had just heard.\n\nWhen he concluded a murmur of applause agitated the assembly like a\nrustling of leaves in the forest, and the King said, \"Venerable father,\nthou speakest well; thy words are those of truth; and it only remains\nto bid these strangers depart from our shores and return to the land\nfrom whence they have come, bearing with them our thanks for having\ncome so far to teach us what they conceive to be the truth, but which\nwe are unable to accept as consonant with reason.\"\n\nIn the vehemence of his oratorical action, the Druid had caught up\nthe skirt of his robe, and the apostle had spied protruding therefrom\na cloven foot, and moreover that the heat issuing therefrom had caused\nthe upper part of the rock on which it was placed to become partially\nliquefied, or rather gelatinised, so that it adhered to the foot.\nSuspecting, therefore, whom he had to deal with, he cried out on\nreceiving the order to depart, \"Hearken, oh King, I have told you of\nthe arch-enemy of God and mankind, who tempted the first man to sin,\nand still goes about luring men to perdition; behold he--even he--is\npresent in this assembly, and has been addressing you in advocacy of\nthe false religion, which you, in your ignorance, maintain. Him will\nI unmask;\" and addressing himself to the Druid, he cried in a stern\nand commanding voice, \"Satan, I defy thee! in the name of the Saviour\nof mankind, I command thee to display thyself in thy proper person,\nand depart hence to the hell from whence thou comest.\" In an instant,\nat that adjuration, the Druid's robe and the venerable beard fell\nfrom him, and he stood revealed in all his hideous deformity, with a\nmalignant scowl on his countenance, and springing up, he took flight,\nimpregnating the air with a sulphurous perfume, carrying with him a\nmass of rock, weighing several tons, which adhered to his foot.\n\nAt this unanswerable demonstration of truth of the religion proclaimed\nby the Apostles, the King, and even the Druids, became converted, and\nunderwent the ceremony of baptism; and the Apostles were empowered to\ngo throughout Brigantium and preach the Gospel, which resulted in the\nconversion of multitudes, and the Brigantes became a Christian people.\n\nSatan, however, although foiled so signally, set his wits to work to\nbe avenged on the King for deserting his standard. He recollected\nthe piece of rock which he had brought from Roulston and dropped in\nhis flight some seven or eight miles from Iseur, the King's capital\ncity, and this he resolved upon making use of to destroy that city.\nAccordingly he winged his way thither, and splitting up the rock\nfashioned it into four huge obelisk-like forms, and standing upon\nHow-hill, he hurled them at Iseur, crying out:--\n\n    \"Borobrig, keep out of the way,\n     For Auldboro town\n     I will ding down.\"\n\nIt may be observed _en passant_ that there is a slight anachronism\nhere, as Aldborough was not so called until the Saxon age, and\nBoroughbridge did not come into existence until after the Conquest. But\nthat is a matter of not much consequence in a legend.\n\nThe stones which were thus intended to \"ding down\" the King's city\nwere miraculously intercepted in their flight, falling and fixing\nthemselves firmly in the earth between the city and the fords over the\nUre (Boroughbridge), where three of them, still called \"The Devil's\nArrows,\" may be seen at this day.\n\n\n\n\nThe Giant Road-Maker of Mulgrave.\n\n\nThe stately Castle of Mulgrave, now the home of the Phipps\nfamily--Marquises of Normanby--was built by Peter de Malo-lacu or de\nMauley, in the reign of King John. Cox says, \"he built a castle here\nfor his defence, which, from its beauty and the grace it was to this\nplace, he named it Moultgrace, but because it proved afterwards a\ngreat grievance to the neighbours thereabouts, the people, who will in\nsuch cases take a liberty to nickname places and things by changing\none letter for another--c for v--called it Moultgrave, by which name\nalone for many ages it hath been and is now everywhere known, though\nthe reason thereof is by few understood.\" A previous castle, with the\nbarony, had been held by the de Turnhams, and the last male heir,\nRobert, having died without issue male, the barony and castle were\ninherited by his only daughter, Isabel, who, as was then the law\nrespecting heiresses, became a ward of the Crown, and her hand at the\ndisposal of the King. This Peter de Malo-lacu, or Peter of the Evil\nEye, was a Poictevin of brutal and ferocious character, who was made\nuse of by King John as the instrument for the murder of his nephew\nArthur, for which piece of service he rewarded the murderer with the\nhand of the fair Isabel, with her inheritance.\n\nBut long before the de Mauleys and the de Turnhams, a noble Saxon\nfamily were lords of the surrounding domain, and dwelt in a castle\non an eminence here, about three or four miles from the seashore at\nWhitby. Leland says (_temp._ Hen. 8), \"Mongrave Castel standeth on a\ncraggy hille, and on eche side of it is a hille far higher than that\nwhereon the castel standeth. The north hille on the topp of it hath\ncertain stones, commonly caul'd Wadda's grave, whom the people there\nsay to have bene a gigant and owner of Mongrave.\" And Camden, \"Hard\nby upon a steep hill near the sea (which yet is between two that are\nmuch higher) a castle of Wade, a Saxon Duke, is said to have stood;\nwho, in the confused anarchy of the Northumbrians, so fatal to the\npetty Princes, having combined with those that murdered King Ethered,\ngave battel to King Ardulph at Whalley, in Lancashire, but with\nsuch ill-sucess that his army was routed and himself forced to fly.\nAfterwards he fell into a distemper, which killed him, and was interred\non a hill here between two solid rocks, about seven foot high, which\nbeing at twelve foot distance from one another, occasions a current\nopinion that he was of gyant-like stature.\"\n\nIt is with this Duke Wada that we are concerned. He appears to have\nbeen a Saxon, or rather an Anglian noble of considerable consequence\nin the kingdom of Northumbria, and to have taken a conspicuous part\nin the political movements of that troublous period, when, as Speed\nnarrates, \"the Northumbrians were sore molested with many intruders\nor rather tyrants that banded for the soueraintie for the space of\nthirtie years.\" He was a man of gigantic stature and a champion of\nredoubtable energy in war, dealing death around him and cumbering the\nfield with the bodies of those who had fallen beneath the blows of his\nponderous mace. He was indeed a true son of Woden in all respects,\nexcepting that he had relinquished the hope of banqueting in the halls\nof the Walhalia, and appropriating the skulls of his enemies as\ndrinking vessels; for through the influence of St. Hilda's Abbey of\nStreoneshalh, in the immediate vicinity, he had adopted the tenets of,\nif he did not regulate his life altogether according to, the principles\nof Christianity.\n\nNow Wada was a married man, and had a helpmate of stature and\nproportions corresponding with his own. They were a well-matched\ncouple, and seemed to have lived together in a state of ordinary\nconnubial happiness, there being but one thing to disturb the even\ntenor of their lives, and that was that the lady had to go in all sorts\nof weather across a moor to milk her cows--a long and dreary journey\neven in summer, along the rough and stone strewn trackway, but more\nespecially in winter, when the snow was frequently knee deep, and the\nbitter blasts of the north-east wind came careering over the sea and\nsweeping with relentless fury across the bleak and shelterless moorland.\n\nWada's Castle was a massive structure of stone, with round-headed\nunglazed windows, and a turret which commanded a fine outlook over the\nsea on one side, and the moorlands and Cleveland hills on the other.\nThe rooms were of large size, as befitted the abode of a giant, but\npresented few of the appliances of comfort that are deemed commonplace\nessentials now-a-days. The walls were of bare stone, without drapery\nof any kind, and no ornamentation excepting some zigzag mouldings;\nthe roofs were vaulted, and in those of large size supported at the\nintersections by one or more stunted round pillars; the windows were\nsmall, without glass, and furnished with wooden shutters to exclude the\nwind and rain in the inclement seasons of the year; and the furniture\nconsisted of rough-hewn deal or oaken tables, and shapeless benches\nor stools, with an oaken coffer to hold valuables, and side shelves\nto hold wooden platters and vessels of earthenware. The fire in cold\nweather was made on the floor, of logs of wood or cuttings of peat, the\nsmoke escaping as it could through the doorways or windows.\n\nIt was in such a room as this that Wada and his wife sat at breakfast,\none rainy and boisterous morning. After devouring an enormous quantity\nof beef and swine's flesh, with manchets of oaten bread, washed down by\nrepeated draughts of ale, Wada, wiping his mouth with the back of his\nhand, rose and went to look forth at the weather.\n\nWada was not a ferocious giant, dragging along half-a-dozen damsels,\nwith one hand, by their hair, to immure them in his dungeons, and grind\ntheir bones to make his bread, as was the wont of the Cornish giants of\nold; nor was he, like them, stupid and weak-minded, so as to be easily\noutwitted and destroyed by the immortal Jack. On the contrary, although\nvaliant in war, he abused not his great strength by tyrannising and\noppressing his vassals, lived on good terms with his neighbours, and\nwas gentle and tender in all his domestic relations. Hence, when he\nlooked through his window and saw the sea foaming with wrath, and a\nfew fisher-boats tossed about by the waves in their endeavour to gain\nshelter in Whitby Bay, and saw the sleet driving across the moor, he\nheaved a sigh, saying, \"Methinks, sweetheart, thou wilt have a rough\npassage over the moor this morning; would to Heaven that it were not\nnecessary for thee so to do.\" \"I care not much,\" she replied, \"for\nthe falling rain and the boisterous wind, rough as they may be, but\nexperience more inconvenience and suffering from the roughness of the\nroad I have to traverse daily, so bestrewn is it with obstacles and\nstumbling-blocks, and so many bog-holes and quagmires have I to pass\nthrough.\"\n\nNow it chanced that a short while before this Wada, in one of his\nwanderings, came upon the road constructed by the Romans, from\nEboracum, by way of Malton to the Bay of Filey, and was struck by the\nfacilities it gave for travelling, as compared with the more modern\nSaxon roads, if roads they could be called, which were mere trackways,\nformed and trodden down by the feet of men and animals. When his wife\nmade the above reply, this recurred to his memory, and after a few\nminutes musing, the thought struck him--Why should not he make a road\non this pattern for the benefit of his wife, whom he loved so dearly,\nand whose toil and labours he would be glad to lessen at any cost to\nhimself?\n\nAfter turning the matter over in his mind as to the practicability\nof the project, he came to the conclusion that it was perfectly\nfeasible. There was plenty of material close at hand, in the shingle\non the beach, and he had sufficient strength and energy to level\nthe inequalities and fill up the boggy places, so as to make a firm\nfoundation, and to spread over the whole a layer of the stones\ngathered from the sea shore. Yes; it was perfectly practicable, and\ncould be accomplished at the mere expense of a little labour. He\nexplained the project to his wife, who was delighted with it, and\nundertook to bring up the stones whilst he placed them in position\nafter forming the foundation.\n\nThey lost no time in commencing the work; he with his spade in the\nlevelling and bog-filling operations, and she carrying up the shingle\nin her apron; and it went on apace day after day and week after week,\nsoon presenting the appearance of a newly macadamised road of modern\ntimes, and was duly appreciated by Lady Wada in her daily tramps across\nthe moor.\n\nIt chanced that when the road was nearly completed, in one of her\njourneys from the beach, laden with shingle, her apron strings gave\nway and her load fell to the earth, and there it was left (some twenty\ncart-loads), and remained until recent times as a monument of her\nindustry and strength, and an incontestable evidence of the truth of\nthe narrative. It was after this that Wada joined in the insurrection\nagainst Ethelred, the son of Moll, who, after his restoration from\nexile, put to death the Princes Alfus and Alwin, sons of King Alfwald,\nwho were the rightful heirs to the crown, and repudiated his wife to\nmarry Elfled, the daughter of Offa, King of Mercia, \"which things,\"\nsays Speed, \"sate so neere the hearts of his subjects that they\nrebelliously rose in arms, and at Cobre miserably slew him, the 18th\nday of April, the yeare of Christ Jesus, 794.\" After which Wada and\nhis confederates were defeated in battle by Duke Ardulph, one of the\naspirants to the Crown, and fled to his castle, where he died of a\nterrible disorder, and was buried, as stated, between two huge stones.\n\nThe road leading from Dunsley Bay towards Malton still exists, and goes\nby the name of \"Wada's Causeway,\" and one of the ribs of Wada's wife\nis preserved in the present Mulgrave Castle, but the present age is so\nincredulous in respect to the chronicles of the past that there are\nsceptics who assert that it is nothing more than the bone of a whale.\n\nWada was the ancestor of the widely ramified family of Wade, one of\nwhom, at least--Marshal Wade--inherited the road-making skill of his\nancestor. After the rebellion of 1715 he was sent into the Highlands as\nmilitary governor, with the object of thoroughly subduing the country\nand rendering it less available as a place of refuge for rebels. With\nthis view he constructed a series of military roads, where there had\npreviously been only trackways, with which the people were so delighted\nthat they set up a stone near Fort Augustus, with the inscription:--\n\n    \"If you had seen these roads before they were made,\n     You would lift up your hands and bless General Wade.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Virgin's Head of Halifax.\n\n\nIn the romantic and somewhat sterile region of south-western Yorkshire,\nverging on the county of Lancaster, lies a valley, or rather what\nhas the aspect of a valley, from its nestling under the shadows of\nsome hills of considerable height. On the slope of an aclivity stands\nthe modern town of Halifax, with its forest of lofty chimneys, its\npretty park, and its many palatial structures, devoted to charitable\nand philanthropic purposes, due chiefly to the benevolence of the\nCrossleys, who, from a humble origin, have, within the memory of living\npersons, become manufacturing princes of the locality, and who, in\nconsideration of their mercantile enterprise and the philanthropic use\nof the wealth they have acquired, have been honoured with a baronetcy.\nIt is one of the most flourishing, or what Leland would term \"quick,\"\ntowns of the Yorkshire clothing district, and in recent times has\nincreased rapidly in population, wealth, and importance. It is not\neven mentioned in Domesday-Book, nor does its name appear in any record\nuntil the twelfth century, when Earl Warren made a grant of the church\nto the priory of Lewes, in Sussex. About the middle of the fifteenth\ncentury it consisted of but thirteen houses, which during the following\nhundred years increased to 520. In 1764, the parish, which, however, is\nvery extensive, being seventeen miles in length by an average width of\neleven, contained 8,244 families; and in 1811 the population numbered\n73,815, that of the town being 9,159, since which period of eighty\nyears it has been more than nontupled, the census of 1891 giving the\npopulation at 82,900.\n\nThe town of Halifax owes its prosperity to its mineral wealth. It is\ncertainly not the place for the agriculturist or the cattle breeder.\nIn an Act passed _temp._ Philip and Mary, it is recited, \"whereas the\nparish of Halifax, being planted in waste and moors, where the ground\nis not apt to bring forth any corn or good grass, but in rare places\nand by exceeding and great industry of the inhabitants; and the same\ninhabitants altogether do live by cloth making, and the greatest\npart of them neither getteth corn nor is able to keepe horse to carry\nwools, etc.;\" and Camden, in 1574, observes that there are 12,000 men\nin the parish, who outnumber the sheep, whereas in other parts we\nfind thousands of sheep and but few men, \"but of all others, nothing\nis so admirable in this town as the industry of the inhabitants, who,\nnotwithstanding an unprofitable, barren soil, not fit to live upon,\nhave so flourished in the cloth trade, which within these seventy\nyears they first fell to, that they are both very rich and have gained\na reputation for it above their neighbours, which confirms the truth\nof the old observation that a barren country is a great whet to the\nindustry of the natives.\"\n\nFor the first three or four centuries after the Conquest, England was a\ngreat wool-growing but not a wool-manufacturing country. Sheep-breeding\nwas a great source of income to the Cistercians, who, with all the\nprivate wool-growers, exported their produce to the spinners and\nweavers of the Low Countries. It was not until King Edward III., with\ngreat sagacity, foreseeing that England might manufacture as well as\nproduce the raw material, and thus share in the profits arising out of\nthat industry, invited over a number of Flemish artisans and settled\nthem in Norfolk and Yorkshire, prohibiting the exportation of wool\nexcepting under a tax of 50s. per pack. This was the foundation of the\nclothing industry of the West Riding, which has since then expanded\nso enormously; and Halifax was one of the first places to apply\nitself to the spinning and weaving of wool. As stated above, although\npoverty-stricken in an agricultural point of view, it possessed great\nmineral wealth in the shape of almost limitless deposits of coal, which\nwas a valuable essential even in those primitive times, but which has\nbecome an absolute essential since the introduction of steam-power\nlooms.\n\nIt is supposed that the manufacture was introduced into Halifax about\nthe year 1414; but it was then on a very limited scale, and it was\nnot until the beginning of the eighteenth century that the first\ngreat advance took place, by the erection of looms for the weaving\nof shalloons, everlastings, moreens, shags, etc., since which time\ndamasks, and more recently still, carpets, have taken prominent\nplaces in the industries of the town; indeed, Halifax has absorbed\na considerable portion of the trade which belongs legitimately to\nKidderminster.\n\nAlthough the town of Halifax is of comparatively modern origin, the\nname is unmistakably Saxon, indicating that previously to the Conquest\nthere was a village or hamlet of some description to which that\nappellation was given. One tradition asserts that there was a hermitage\ndedicated to St. John the Baptist, in the valley, and that within it\nwas preserved the face of the saint, which attracted vast numbers of\npilgrims, and caused the name of the place of resort to be called\nHali-fax, or Holy-face; and there may possibly be some substratum of\ntruth in this, as the parish church is dedicated to the same saint.\nDr. Whitaker partially adopts this theory, but his etymologies are\nfrequently rather fanciful. He refers to this hermitage of St. John,\n\"whose imagined sanctity attracted a great concourse of people in every\ndirection, to accommodate whom there were four separate roads from\ndifferent points of the compass, which converged in the valley, and\nhence the name Halifax, which is half Saxon and half Norman, signifying\nthe Holy-ways, fax in Norman-French being an old plural noun, denoting\nhighways.\"\n\nCamden gives a brief outline of the legend given below, which he\nheard from the people of the vicinity, adding--\"and thus the little\nvillage of Horton, or as it was sometimes called, 'The Chapel in the\nGrove,' grew up to a large town, assuming the new name of Halig-fax,\nor Halifax, which signifies holy hair, for fax is used by the English\non the other side Trent to signify hair, and that the noble family of\nFairfax in these parts are so named from their fair hair.\"\n\nThat the valley was esteemed a place of peculiar sanctity in the\nearly ages is a matter of which there can be little doubt, and this\nis sufficiently evidenced by one fact alone. Within its precincts was\nborn, about the end of the twelfth or beginning of the thirteenth\ncentury, John, the foremost mathematician of the age, author of\n\"Tractatus de Sph\u00e6ri Mundi,\" \"De Computo Ecclesiastes,\" and \"De\nAlgorismo,\" who was honoured with a public funeral at the expense of\nthe University of Paris, who assumed the name of Johannes de Sancto\nBosco, or John of the Holy Wood. And here it may be incidentally\nnoticed that the Holy Wood has since then produced other men upon\nwhom the mantle of Johannes seems to have fallen. Here was born, in\n1556, Henry Briggs, the eminent mathematician; Gresham, Professor of\nGeometry, Savilian Professor at Oxford, and author of \"Arithmetica\nLogarithmica,\" an improvement on Napier, containing logarithms of\n30,000 natural numbers; Jesse Ramsden, the famous optician, and\nimprover of the Hadley quadrant, who died A.D. 1800; and at Horton,\nseven miles distant, Abraham Sharpe, one of the best mathematicians and\nastronomers of his time, who died in 1742.\n\nThe shadows of evening were falling upon the valley, and the outlines\nof the rugged, verdureless hills were gradually becoming more and more\nindistinct, as Father Aelred, having passed out of his little chapel of\nSt. John the Baptist, where he had been performing the vesper service,\nproceeded to his lonely habitation, and after a simple meal of wild\nfruits and a draught of water from the little streamlet trickling down\nthe hillside, sat him down to read for the hundredth time a transcript\nof a portion of C\u00e6dmon's Scriptural poems, after which he spent some\ntime in prayer and self-communion, and then cast himself upon his\nsackcloth, which was spread over a layer of rough gravel, to slumber\nfor a short time, in this mortifying and penitential fashion, to rise\nagain at midnight for other devotional exercises.\n\nFather Aelred was a man of thirty or thirty-five years of age, of pale\ncountenance and emaciated frame, with sunken eyes and hollow voice,\nthe result of rigorous fasting, long vigils, mortification of the\nflesh, and severe penitential exercises. In his boyhood he had been\nregarded, from his gravity of aspect, love of learning, and incipient\npiety, as one who was destined to become a light of the church of the\ncoming generation, and was sent for his education to the famous School\nof Streoneshalh, established by the Lady Hilda, and at that time under\nthe superintendence of her successor, the Princess Elfleda, where he\nimbibed Scriptural instruction from the lips of the then venerable\nC\u00e6dmon, a monk of the house. He became a novice of the house, passed\nthe requisite examinations satisfactorily, and was in due course\nadmitted as a fully accredited member of the fraternity. The strictness\nof his piety was such that he shortly found the life of a monk not to\nanswer his longings for a higher life of holiness and a position where\nhe could be of service to the souls of his fellowmen. He therefore\nleft the shelter of Whitby, and wandered about for some weeks, until\nhe came into the wild and barren-looking mountainous district of the\nwest, and finding there a secluded valley, shut in by towering hills\nand frowning rocks--a spot with a very sparse and scattered population,\nand removed far away from the noise and turmoil of the world--he\nresolved to make it his home, and to settle down in it as a hermit,\nshutting out all intercourse with his fellowmen and women, save in the\nway of imparting spiritual teaching and consolation to the few simple\nunsophisticated rustics who dwelt in the valley. He found a cavern in\nthe hillside, which he enlarged and fashioned into a habitation wherein\nto live; fitting the entrance with a door, to shelter him from the cold\nwinter winds and prevent the intrusion of wild animals, above which\nhe made an orifice for the admission of light, which he glazed with a\nthinly scraped sheet of horn, such as King Alfred's lanterns were made\nof, and furnished the interior with two sections of a tree trunk, the\nlarger to serve as a table, the smaller as a seat; a shelf on which he\nkept his eatables, with a knife, an earthen platter, and a drinking\nhorn, a piece of rough sackcloth for his bed, and over it, fixed to\nthe rock, a roughly-shapen cross, the emblem of his faith, beside which\nhung a knotted rope for the purpose of penitential flagellation. At\na few rods distance he erected with his own hands, from timber cut\nby himself, a small chapel--a temple of God, sufficiently rude and\nunpretentious in point of architecture, but answering every purpose for\nwhich it was intended, that of a place of assembly for the simple and\nunlettered people of the valley, where they might join in the worship\nof God; and here Aelred every evening performed divine service and\ncatechised the small flock of which he had constituted himself the\npastor, and on Sundays performed three full services, with a sermon and\nthe administration of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. And thus he\ncame to be looked upon in the district as a most holy man, as indeed\nhe was, and but little below a saint, who might be expected any day to\ncommence the working of miracles, in the cure of the sick and afflicted.\n\nThere was one peculiarity about Aelred's character, which amounted\nalmost to a monomania. He entertained a shrinking horror of\nfair-featured, beautiful women--not that there were many such in his\nsolitary valley, they being, as a rule, embrowned by exposure to the\nsun, and their features corrugated by marks of rough toil and the\ntroubles of life even from girlhood, and as such they experienced his\nsympathy and Christian charity; and the little children were always\ntreated by him with tenderness and love, in imitation of his Divine\nMaster, who had said \"for of such is the kingdom of Heaven.\" But\nfor the vain and frivolous of the sex, who seemed to deem nothing\nof supreme importance save the adornment of their persons, he felt\nprofound scorn and contempt, mixed with a modicum of pity, and\nmarvelled why they were sent into the world at all, unless, it might\nbe, to test the virtue of man by the temptation of their fascinating\nallurements.\n\nIt happened, however, that not far distant a benevolent and wealthy\nlady had established a religious home for females. It was not exactly a\nnunnery, although it possessed many of the features of one, the inmates\nnot being debarred from matrimony, although absolute chastity was an\nessential while resident there; nor were they garbed in unbecoming\ncostumes, nor compelled to sacrifice that pride and ornament of\nwoman, her hair; besides which they were allowed a certain amount of\nliberty in the way of visiting their friends, which was not accorded\nto a regular nun. The ladies of this establishment were wont to go to\nFather Aelred to confess their little peccadilloes, to which he saw no\nreasonable objection, as they were generally very homely, ill-favoured\nspecimens of the sex, as is usually the case with the inmates of\nnunneries, and thus were in no way perilous to his chaste soul and holy\ncommunings. Had they been otherwise, it is probable that he might have\ndeclined the office of father confessor to them, and closed the door of\nSt. John's Chapel against their intrusion.\n\nIt is a well-known psychological fact that the body and the mind act\nand re-act upon each other to their respective well-being or detriment,\nand that if the one is neglected or abused the other suffers in\nproportion; and this fact was evidenced in the case of Father Aelred.\nAs we have observed, he was a man of intense and fervid piety, the\nwhole of his thoughts being concentrated on one sole object--the\nsalvation of his own soul and that of his fellow-creatures. Hence he\nfasted for prolonged periods, denied himself a sufficient measure\nof sleep, such as nature demanded, subjected himself to severe\nself-flagellations, and in other ways outraged nature, fancying that\nby these mortifications of the flesh he was promoting the health of\nhis soul. But the laws of nature are never broken with impunity, and\nhe had to pay the penalty; instead of invigorating he impaired the\npowers of the spiritual portion of his dual entity, which, although\ndistinct from, is essentially interwoven with the material half. At\nfirst he merely experienced lassitude, depression of spirits, and a\nharassing dread that after all his religious aspirations and rigid\nobservance of the duties of the Church, he might find himself cast\ninto the bottomless pit at last. These were followed by distressing\ndreams and visions of the Judgment Day, the frown and sentence of the\narbiter of his eternal destiny, and the jeering scoffs of the enemy\nof souls, as he passed into the region of everlasting weeping and\nwailing. Deeming these to be proofs of the weakness of his faith and\nthe languor of his religious life, he was led to redouble the rigour\nof his asceticism, the natural result being to intensify the malady he\nsought to cure. From seeing fearful visions in his dreams at night, he\nbegan to see horrible figures of demons by day, who crowded about him,\nwith scoffing grimaces and leering looks, sometimes, as it seemed to\nhis ears, as if uttering threats and sarcastic allusions to his assumed\npiety, or anon indulging in demoniac yells of laughter. Of course he\nattributed all these to the machinations of the devil, and prayed for\ndeliverance from them; but he was haunted by them day and night, with\nincreasing persistency, until at length the sanity of his mind gave\nway, and he became in fact a maniac, not, however, so pronounced as to\nrender it evident to others, or prevent his performance of his priestly\noffices, nor did he relax his private devotional exercises.\n\nOn the evening above mentioned, when the holy father returned home\nfrom the chapel and sat down to the perusal of the transcript of\nC\u00e6dmon, which he had brought from Whitby, he was particularly disturbed\nin mind, and could not concentrate his thoughts upon what he was\nreading, which perpetually recurred at the evening service in the\nchapel and the advent of a new member of his congregation; besides\nwhich an imp had squatted himself on the table opposite him, and sat\nthere grinning at him in a most diabolical fashion. It was the usual\ncustom of the sisterhood of the religious house of which mention\nhas been made to attend his evening service; and on this occasion a\nnew member of the sisterhood was present for the first time. She had\nbeen just admitted as a novice, and was young and beautiful, with the\nfair, clear complexion, blue eyes, and long flaxen hair of the Anglian\nrace, a striking contrast to the elderly, homely featured spinsters\nwhom she accompanied. The moment he caught sight of her face, Aelred\nexperienced a species of fascination, similar to that of the bird in\nthe presence of the serpent, and although he battled with the feeling,\nhe could not shake it off. To his eyes, she seemed like an angel come\ndown from heaven, and the more he struggled to avert his thoughts from\ncontemplating her celestial beauty, the more he felt impelled to turn\nhis eyes again and again to where she sat. He felt it was wrong, so\nhe brought the service to an abrupt close and hastened home to purify\nhis soul, by prayer, from what he deemed the lust of the eye. But the\nvision was ever present in his mind's eye, so much so that he scarcely\nheeded or was conscious of the grinning imp on the table. He had\nretired to his sackcloth couch, after a wholesome application of the\nknotted rope and a prolonged prayer before the cross, and eventually\nfell asleep, but his dreams were all of the fair vision he had seen in\nthe chapel, and for that night he was not haunted by his usual demon\nvisitants.\n\nA few days afterwards the Mother Superior of the little convent came\nto the chapel for confession, and brought with her her new daughter,\nto whom she introduced Aelred as her future father confessor, and it\nwas with a strange unusual throbbing of his heart that he looked upon\nher fair form, as she bowed herself beneath his paternal greeting;\nbut when he listened to her soft, silvery accents as she told him in\nconfession her little sins of thought, his heart softened as it had\nnever done before to any woman. These feelings, however, involuntary as\nthey were, caused him much alarm, and he strove to banish them as being\nperilous to his soul, but it was impossible to drive the fair, and as\nhe thought, angelic, image from his mind. A week passed by, to him a\nweek of sad spiritual tribulation, for when in prayer his mind wandered\naway; nor was he able to fix his thoughts in contemplation, the angelic\nvision ever rising up to distract and perplex him.\n\nOne day when she came to confess she said to him--\"Holy father, I\nhave fallen into grievous sin; I have made the probationary vow of\nabstraction from the world and of devotion to the sole service of\nGod.\" \"That is well, my daughter,\" said Aelred; \"persevere in that\nresolution, and God will bless you both now and for ever.\" \"But,\nfather,\" she continued, \"I have suffered a fearful lapse; I have looked\nback upon the world, and have almost regretted having taken the vows.\"\n\"Backsliding,\" said Aelred in reply, \"is, as you term it, a grievous\nsin; but it is remediable by prayer, penitence, and fasting. But tell\nme more in detail the evil thoughts which have assailed your soul.\"\n\"I almost fear to tell you,\" she answered. \"Then can I not advise\nyou in the matter excepting in general terms. Confide in me; it is\nbut speaking to God through me, and he will inspire me with words of\nremedial comfort; otherwise I cannot grant absolution.\"\n\nThus urged, she stated that previously to entering the convent she\nscarcely knew what the passion of love meant, but since then it had\nsprung up in her heart with a vehemence that it seemed to be impossible\nto suppress. She had seen one since she came into the valley, a pious\nand godly man, who had at the first sight animated her breast with the\npassion in so intense a degree that it glowed and raged within her\nlike a furnace. The holy man at once concluded that he himself was the\nperson she referred to, and he felt his heart beating wildly with an\nhitherto unexperienced emotion, and at the same time his brow became\nbedewed with perspiration, caused by an apprehensive terror of the\ndangerous position in which he found himself placed. He stood silent\nand almost paralysed, looking down upon her with fearful forebodings as\nto what she would confess further, when she, wondering at his silence,\ncast a furtive glance upward from her hitherto downcast eyes. Everyone\nknows that there is wondrous eloquence in the glance of a female\neye, and as her's met his, he felt at once that it meant impassioned\nlove--lawless love, and it stirred up within his disordered mind\nall the narrow bigotry of his sentiments in respect to sexual love.\nHe still stood silently gazing upon her, when all at once a fearful\nidea flashed across his mind, which caused him to pass at once from a\nperson of slightly distempered intellect into a perfect madman. The\nidea was that the girl before him was none other than Satan himself,\nwho, not having been able to tempt him to sin by means of his imps in\ntheir repulsive demoniac forms, had assumed the semblance of a lovely\nvirgin to allure him to carnal sin. Rising up to his full height, with\neyeballs glaring and features distorted with indignant rage, he cried,\n\"Satan, I know thee, and I defy thee; but no more shalt thou tempt man\nin that shape at least,\" and with that he dealt her a violent blow, and\nshe fell senseless on the floor. \"Ah!\" cried he, \"thou hast found thy\nmatch in me, but my work is not yet completed; thy head shall be placed\naloft as a warning to others,\" and with that he procured a knife and\nsevered her head from her body, which he then took out and fixed on the\ntrunk of a yew tree, just where it begins to ramify, and when that was\ncompleted he rushed up the mountain with wild shouts of triumph and\nmaniacal gesticulations.\n\nThe young novice not returning to the convent, search was made for\nher, and her headless body was discovered in the chapel, lying in a\npool of blood, but it was not until the following day that the head\nwas found fixed in the yew tree. On attempting to remove it, it was\nfound that the long hair had taken root in the tree trunk, and was\nspreading downwards in thin filaments, and as this was looked on as a\nmiracle, it was left there. Suspicion of the murder attached itself to\nthe hermit-priest, and as he had been seen going up the mountain in a\ndistraught state of mind, search was made for him in that direction,\nand his body was found at the foot of a precipice down which he had\nfallen, but whether through accident or for the purpose of suicide\ncould never be known.\n\nCamden says--\"Her head was hung upon an ew-tree, where it was reputed\nholy by the vulgar, till quite rotten, and was visited in pilgrimage by\nthem, every one picking off a branch of the tree as a holy relique. By\nthis means the tree became at last a mere trunk, but still retained its\nreputation of sanctity among the people, who believed that those little\nveins, which are spread out like hair in the rind between the bark and\nthe body of the tree, were indeed the very hair of the virgin. This\noccasioned such resort of pilgrims to it that Horton, from a little\nvillage grew up to a large town, assuming the name of Halig-fax, or\nHalifax, which signifies holy hair.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Dead Arm of St. Oswald the King.\n\n\nThe Anglian kingdom of Northumbria, of which York was the capital,\npresented in the seventh century one almost continuous series of\nbattles and murders, massacres of the people, and desolation of the\nland. Ethelfrid, grandson of Ida, founder of the kingdom of Bernicia,\nand Eadwine, son of \u00c6lla, founder of that of Deira, succeeded their\nfathers in their respective kingdoms about the same time; but\nthe former, who had married Acca, Eadwine's sister, usurped his\nbrother-in-law's throne and drove him into exile, who afterwards, by\nthe assistance of Redwald, King of the East Angles, in the year 617,\ndefeated and slew Ethelfrid in battle, and became King of Northumbria\nand eighth Bretwalda, or paramount monarch of Britain. He was converted\nto Christianity, and Penda, the pagan King of Mercia, in order to\nextirpate the heretical religion, invaded Northumbria, and defeated\nEadwine at Hethfield, who was slain in the fight. This happened in\n633, and Penda then went into East Anglia on the same mission, leaving\nCadwalla, a Welsh Prince, his ally, although a Christian, as Governor\nof Northumbria, who made York his headquarters, and ruled the people,\nespecially those who had embraced Christianity and were the most\ndevoted adherents of the family of Eadwine, with the most ruthless\nbarbarity. On the death of Ethelfrid, his sons, Eanfrid and Oswald,\nfled into Scotland along with Osric, son of \u00c6lfrid, King Eadwine's\nuncle, where they had been converted to Christianity under the teaching\nof the monks of Iona, or, as Speed puts it, \"had bin secured in\nScotland all his (Eadwine's) reigne, and among the Red-shanks liued as\nbanished men, where they learned the true Religion of Christ, and had\nreceiued the lauer of Baptisme.\" On hearing of the death of Eadwine,\nthey returned to Northumbria, were welcomed by the people, and assumed\nthe crowns--Osric of Deira, and Eanfrid of Bernicia. Cadwalla was\nstill, however, potent in Northumbria, holding York and tyrannising\nover the people, and they were scarcely seated on their thrones when he\nslew Osric in battle, and caused Eanfrid to be put to death when he\ncame before him to sue for peace. Seeing that Christianity was almost\nextinct in the land, the people having reverted to the old faith,\nthey both deemed it expedient to renounce Christianity and restore\nthe worship of Woden, respecting which Bede says, \"To this day that\nyear (the year during which they reigned) is looked upon as unhappy\nand hateful to all good men; as well on account of the apostasy of\nthe English Kings, who had renounced the faith, as of the outrageous\ntyranny of the British King. Hence it has been agreed by all who have\nwritten about the reigns of the Kings to abolish the memory of these\nperfidious Monarchs, and to assign that year to the reign of the\nfollowing King, Oswald, a man beloved of God.\"\n\nOswald was an altogether different man from his brother Eanfrid, a man\nof genuine faith, who had imbibed the true principles of Christianity,\nsincere in his devotions, and prepared to undergo any suffering, even\ndeath itself, rather than apostatise from what he was fully convinced\nwas the truth. On the death of his brother he collected around him\na small army of devoted followers, and with these advanced to meet\nCadwalla, relying on the justice of his cause, the bravery of his\nhandful of men, and the assistance of God. He set up his standard,\na cross, emblematic of his faith, at Denisbourne, near Hagulstad\n(Hexham), \"and this done,\" says Bede, \"raising his voice, he cried\nto his army, 'Let us all kneel and jointly beseech the true and\nliving God Almighty, in his mercy, to defend us, from the haughty and\nfierce enemy, for he knows that we have undertaken a just war for the\nsafety of our nation.' All did as he had commanded, and accordingly,\nadvancing towards the enemy with the first dawn of day, they obtained\nthe victory, as their faith deserved.\" He adds, \"In that place of\nprayer very many miraculous cures have been performed, as a token and\nmemorial of the King's faith, for even to this day many are wont to cut\noff small chips from the wood of the holy Cross, which being put into\nwater, men or cattle drinking thereof or sprinkled with that water are\nimmediately restored to health.\" He then gives some instances, one of\nBothelme, a brother of the church of Hagulstad, which was afterwards\nbuilt on the spot, who broke his arm by falling on the ice, causing \"a\nmost raging pain,\" when he was given a portion of moss from the then\nold cross, which he placed in his bosom, and went to bed forgetting\nthat he had it, but \"awaking in the middle of the night, he felt\nsomething cold lying by his side, and putting his hand to feel what it\nwas, he found his arm and hand as sound as if he had never felt any\nsuch pain.\"\n\nCadwalla was utterly defeated and slain, and his vast army (vast\nas compared with Oswald's small band of heroes) cut to pieces and\ndispersed. Having thus freed his country from the one disturbing\nelement, he applied himself to its regeneration and restoration from\nanarchy and desolation to peace and good order. First and foremost,\nhis object was the re-conversion of his people from the paganism into\nwhich they had lapsed, to Christianity, and to light afresh the lamp\nof truth, which had been almost altogether extinguished through the\nvigorous zeal of Penda on behalf of his ancestral gods of the north.\nWith this object in view he sent to Iona for missionaries, to preach\nand teach throughout Northumbria, and Aidan was sent at the head\nof a body of monks, whose headquarters were fixed on the island of\nLindisfarne, as resembling that of Iona, from whence they came, hoping\nto make it, like the latter, a centre of evangelical light to the\nmainland of Northumbria. Here they lived under the rule of Columba, the\nfounder of Iona, in monastic seclusion, when at home, which was but\nseldom, as they were constantly on foot, staff in hand, tramping about\nthrough forests and moors and wild places of Oswald's kingdom. The\nKing created a bishopric, to comprehend the whole of his territories,\nand constituted Aidan the first Bishop, who, it is said--such was the\nzeal of his subaltern monkish priests--baptised 15,000 converts in\nseven days. Besides this, the King caused churches and monasteries to\nbe erected in various parts of his realm, and completed the church\nwhich King Eadwine had commenced at York, the forerunner of the\nmagnificent fane which now adorns that city and is one of the most\nglorious specimens of Gothic architecture in England. Nor was Oswald\nless active in civil and secular matters, and in promoting the welfare\nof his people. He governed his kingdom with great wisdom and prudence,\nand under his peaceful sceptre the land was rapidly recovering from the\neffects of Cadwalla's desolating hand. He was the fifth King of Deira,\nninth of Bernicia, third of Northumbria, and the ninth Bretwalda or\nSupreme King of the island, \"at which times the whole Iland flourished\nboth with peace and plenty, and acknowledged their subjection vnto\nKing Oswald. For, as Bede reporteth, all the nations of Britannie\nwhich spake foure languages, that is to say, Britaines, Red-shankes,\nScots, and Englishmen, became subject vnto him. And yet being aduanced\nto so Royall Majesty, he was notwithstanding (which is maruellous to\nbe reported), lowly to all; gracious to the poore, and bountifull to\nstrangers.\"\n\nIt was a cold spring day; the sun shone brightly, but imparted little\nwarmth; the trees were leafless, and the early flowers looked sickly\nand languid, the effect of a long continuance of north-easterly\nwinds, which on this particular day came coursing over the ocean,\nand were roystering with boisterous glee and in fearful gusts round\nthe towers of Bamborough Castle, and through the openings in the\nwalls which served the purpose of the glazed windows of after-times.\nIt was Easter-tide, and here King Oswald had come from York, where\nhe had kept his Court, to celebrate this important festival of the\nChurch in the ancestral castle of his race. The feast was laid in the\nbanqueting-room, a tolerably large but gloomy and, to nineteenth\ncentury eyes, a wretchedly appointed apartment, with but few of the\nappliances of modern comfort. A fire of wood burnt on the hearth, the\nsmoke at times passing up the wide chimney, at others driven inward\nby a down-current of the wind, and sent in curling wreaths along the\nvaulted roof. The room was lighted by means of narrow recessed openings\nand arrow slits, useful in times of siege, but inconveniently narrow\nfor the admission of light, yet wide enough to afford free entrance to\nthe chilling wind. The walls were of bare stones, and the furniture a\ntable of rough planks running down the centre, with a smaller cross\ntable, on a sort of dais. At the latter table were seated King Oswald,\nwith his Queen Kineburga, daughter of Kingils, the sixth monarch and\nfirst Christian King of the West Saxons, on the one hand, and Bishop\nAidan on the other. Along the other table sat some nobles and thegns,\nthree or four of the monks of Lindisfarne, and below these the house\ncarles and outdoor retainers of the King's household. On the cross\ntable was placed a large silver dish filled with venison, wild boar's\nflesh, and other dainties; and distributed down the long table were\nearthen dishes containing meat of various kinds, wooden platters and\nknives, with drinking horns, and small loaves of barley bread; and on\nthe table stood flagons of ale that had been brewed specially for the\nfestival.\n\nAt the King's request the Bishop pronounced benediction on the food,\nwith special reference to Him in whose memory the festival was\ncelebrated, and who alone could administer the bread of life. He had\nscarcely finished, and the guests were beginning to handle their knives\npreparatory to an attack on the smoking viands, which gave forth a most\nappetising odour, when a sound as of a multitude of persons outside\nattracted their notice, and immediately after voices were heard: \"In\nthe name of Him who rose from the tomb this blessed morning, give us\nwhereof to eat, that we starve not and die by the wayside.\" The King\nsent one of his house carles out to inquire who and what they were,\nwho presently returned, saying that they were a band of some dozen\nmendicants, formerly well-to-do husbandmen, and their families, whose\nhomes and crops had been destroyed by Cadwalla's followers, and that\nthey were utterly destitute, deprived of the means of living, and\ndependent on charity for food until they could find means to replace\nthemselves on their farms.\n\n\"Unfortunate creatures,\" exclaimed the King; \"a fearful retribution\nawaits that so-called Christian prince in that world to which his\ncrimes have sent him through our instrumentality by God's providence;\"\nand, taking up the large silver dish, continued, \"It is better that\nwe celebrate not this festival, than that the poor of our realm die\nof starvation. Take this, Wilfrid, and portion out its contents among\nthe famishing crowd, and when they have eaten, cut up the dish and\ndistribute the fragments, that they may have the wherewithal to procure\nfood on the morrow.\" Aidan, the Bishop, who was afterwards canonised,\nwas struck with admiration at the pious and charitable act of the King,\nwhich he warmly applauded; and taking hold of his right arm, prayed\nthat that arm and hand which had passed forth the dish might never\nbecome corrupt, but for ever remain fresh, in token and remembrance of\nthis pious act of self-abnegation; and instead of feasting, this Easter\nday was spent by Oswald, his Queen, and the Bishop in fasting and\nprayer.\n\nPenda, the pagan King of Mercia, was still living, and still as\ninveterately hostile to the new heresy as when he had made his raid\non Northumbria, and trampled it out by the defeat and death of the\nRoyal convert of Paulinus; and now, when Oswald had been eight years\non the throne; had brought his kingdom, by wisdom and good government,\ninto a condition of peace and prosperity; and had re-established\nChristianity on a sure and firm basis, he heard with some dismay that\nthe heathen King was muttering threats against him, and gathering his\nforces together for another invasion, and a second suppression of the\nreligion that sought the dethronement of Woden as the god of heaven.\nYet although he heard these tidings with dismay, he felt assured of the\nDivine protection, remembering how signally he had defeated Cadwalla\nby fighting under the standard of the Cross, despite the disparity\nof numbers. He remembered, too, what miseries were inflicted on the\nNorthumbrians by the marching of hostile bands to and fro, leaving,\nas they usually did, a desert behind them strewn with the corpses of\nmen, women, and children; and he determined that, rather than allow\nhis people to be subjected again to these sufferings, he would be\nbeforehand with the enemy and carry the war, with its resultant\nravages, into his own land. He therefore hastily assembled his fighting\nmen, and again uplifting the standard of the Cross marched into Mercia,\nhis troops, like those of Cromwell a thousand years afterwards, singing\npsalms and anthems as they passed along.\n\nPenda had collected together a large army, and the rival hosts met at\nMasserfield, in the modern Shropshire. They rushed towards each other\nin mortal conflict, the one with shouts of \"Hallelujah!\" the other\nwith cries of \"Aid us, great Woden, thou mighty god of battle!\" The\nfight was long and obstinately contested, and victory seemed to waver\nfrom one side to the other until towards evening, when an arrow struck\nOswald and he fell to the ground, although not mortally wounded; but a\ncry arose amongst his followers that he was slain, and, thinking that\ntheir God had deserted them, they were stricken with panic, threw down\ntheir arms, and fled in every direction, hotly pursued by the Mercians,\nwho mercilessly killed all the fugitives whom they overtook.\n\nAlthough stricken down and faint from loss of blood, Oswald still\nlived, and witnessed with anguish of mind the cowardly and ignominious\nflight of his army. The Mercians came over the field, killing those of\nthe fallen who were merely wounded; but when they came to Oswald they\nspared him, whom they had recognised, and brought him, with staggering\nsteps and downcast heart, into the presence of their chief.\n\n\"Thou art he, then,\" said Penda, addressing him, \"who darest to\ninvade my dominions--the dominions of a descendant of Woden--thou, a\nworshipper of false gods!\"\n\n\"It is even I,\" replied Oswald, in a weak voice; \"I, Oswald, King\nof the Northumbrians, successor to the sainted Eadwine, who is now\nstanding by the throne of the one true God, Jehovah, the God whom\nI worship, on whose arm I put my trust, and who, if He, in His\ninscrutable providence, hath delivered me up to thy cruel behests,\nwill save my soul, that portion of me, my real self, which thou cannot\ntouch, and bring me to dwell with Him for ever, in that heaven which\nthou canst never reach, unless thou repentest and abandonest thy false\ndemon-gods, who can only conduct thee to the flames of hell.\"\n\n\"Blaspheming heretic,\" cried Penda, \"I care not for the heaven thou\nspeakest of; sufficient for me will be the Halls of Walhalla, where,\namid everlasting banqueting, I will use thy skull as my drinking-cup.\nStill, I will give thee one chance of life. Renounce thy false god;\nrestore the worship of Woden in Northumbria, and thou shalt be replaced\non thy throne as my tributary, whilst I, as monarch of Mercia,\nNorthumbria, and East Anglia, extending from the Thames to the Forth,\nand from sea to sea, shall become the Bretwalda of Britain.\"\n\n\"Never, O King,\" replied Oswald \"will I prove recreant to the truth.\nThou mayest rend my sceptre from my grasp; thou mayest slay my kindred\nand massacre my people; thou mayest torture me, and put an end to my\ntemporal existence; but never will I renounce that faith which affords\nme a secure hope of everlasting blessedness, whilst thou, if thou\ncontinuest the instrument of false gods, shalt be weeping and gnashing\nthy teeth in the torments of the bottomless pit.\"\n\n\"Then,\" roared out Penda, \"thy death be on thy own head. Soldiers,\nhew the blasphemer to pieces!\" And immediately he was stricken by\nhalf-a-dozen swords, and fell exclaiming, \"Lord Jesus, into thy hands\nI commend my soul.\"\n\nThe ferocious pagan, kicking the body with his foot as the last insult,\ngave directions for it to be cut into fragments, and scattered abroad\nto be devoured by birds of prey and the wild beasts of the forest; and\nhis behests were at once carried into execution. And the birds and the\nbeasts gathered together to the horrible carnival, and soon there was\nnothing left but the bare bones, saving one arm, which none of them\nwould touch, and it remained entire and perfect as in life.\n\nSome time after the battle of Masserfield the arm of the King was\nfound, fresh and undecayed, and was conveyed to Northumbria and\ndeposited in a magnificent shrine, where it remained uncorrupted\nfor nine centuries, at first in the chapel of St. Peter, Bamborough\nCastle, and afterwards, when the Danes began to ravage the coast, in\nthe monastery of Peterborough, whither it was removed, as Ingulphus\ninforms us, for safety. The scattered bones were afterwards collected,\nby the pious care of Offryd, Oswald's niece, the daughter of Oswy, the\nillegitimate half-brother of Oswald, his successor on the throne of\nNorthumbria, and slayer of Penda in battle. She had become Queen of\nMercia by her marriage with Ethelred, son and successor of Penda, who,\nafter his father's death, had embraced Christianity. She placed the\nrelics in the monastery of Bardney, in Lincolnshire, and his \"standard\nof gold and purple over the shrine;\" but when the Danes became\ntroublesome in Lindsey they were removed to Gloucester, \"and there,\nin the north side of the vpper end of the quire of the cathedrall\nchurch, continueth a faire monument of him, with a chappell set betwixt\ntwo pillers in the same church.\" At all these places--Masserfield,\nafterwards called Oswestry, after the martyr; at the place of burial of\nthe relics; and at the shrines of the uncorrupted arm--throughout those\nnine hundred years some most wonderful miracles were performed, which\nare duly recorded in the pages of Bede and other writers; even a few\ngrains of the dust which settled on the shrine of the arm, when mixed\nwith water and drunk, were a sovereign specific for almost any disease.\n\nWinwick, in Lancashire, disputes with Oswestry the claim of having\nbeen the place of St. Oswald's death, as there is St. Oswald's Well\nthere; and from an inscription in the church it appears to have been\nanciently called Masserfelte; moreover there is a tradition that he\nhad a palace there, which was within his dominions, although his usual\nplaces of residence were Bamborough and occasionally York.\n\nThe village of Oswaldkirk, near Helmsley, derives its name from him,\nand there are several churches in Yorkshire and elsewhere dedicated to\nhim.\n\n\n\n\nThe Translation of St. Hilda.\n\n\nSt. Hilda was the nursing-mother of the infant Saxon Church; the\ninstructress of Bishops; the preceptrix of scholars and learned men;\nand the patroness of C\u00e6dmon, the first Saxon Christian poet--the Milton\nof his age. The Abbey over which she ruled with so much piety and\nprudence was, during her life and afterwards, one of the great centres\nof civilization and Christian light of the kingdom of Northumbria, and\ndiffused its rays, beaming with celestial radiance, even beyond the\nbounds of that great northern monarchy.\n\nShe was a scion of the royal race of \u00c6lla, the founder of the kingdom\nof Deira, or Southern Northumbria; the daughter of Hererick (nephew\nof Eadwine, King of Northumbria), by his wife the Lady Breguswith;\nwas born in the year 614, and died in 680. She was converted to\nChristianity by the preaching of Paulinus, and was baptised along\nwith her great-uncle and his court, in 627. Six years afterwards\nEadwine was slain in battle by Penda, the heathen King of Mercia, and\nthe nascent religion of Christianity stamped out, Paulinus flying for\nshelter with the widowed Queen and her children, to the court of her\nbrother, the King of Kent. What became of Hilda during this period of\nanarchy we know not; but it seems evident that the afflictions and\npersecutions she underwent served only to deepen her faith and cause\nher to cling more closely to the Cross of Christ.\n\nIn 647, when she was thirty-three years of age, she resolved upon\ndevoting her life entirely to the service of God, and with that view\njourneyed into East Anglia, where her nephew Heresuid reigned as King,\nand where her cousin, the pious Anne, resided. Her intention was to\nproceed hence to Chelles, in France, to join her sister, St. Herewide,\nwho had retired to a nunnery there; but for some reason or other she\nlingered for twelve months in East Anglia. At the end of this period\nshe was granted a plot of land on the Wear, upon which she erected\na small house and resided there, in modest seclusion, for the space\nof a year, when the fame of her piety having spread abroad, she was\nappointed Abbess of Hartlepool, a nunnery founded by Hein, the first\nwoman who assumed the nun's habit in Northumbria, and who had now\nretired to the nunnery of Calcaceaster (Tadcaster). In her new capacity\nshe set about her work with devoted zeal, regulating the discipline,\nreforming abuses, promulgating new and wholesome rules, and enforcing\na strict attention to religious duties, in which she was aided by\nthe counsels of her friend Aidan, Bishop of Lindisfarne, who, at the\ninstance of King Oswald, had come from Iona to re-convert his subjects\nto the faith which had been trampled out by Penda.\n\nIn the year 642, Oswald, the second founder of Christianity in\nNorthumbria, fell, like his predecessor Eadwine, under the ferocious\nsword of Penda, and was succeeded by Oswy in Bernicia, and Oswine in\nDeira; but in 650, Oswy caused the king of Deira to be murdered, and\nassumed the sceptre of Northumbria, north and south. Five years after\nthis, Penda, with unabated zeal for his god--Woden--again made an\ninroad into Northumbria, with the intent of slaying the third Christian\nking of that realm. At first Oswy attempted to buy him off by bribes,\nbut the Mercian potentate refused his offers, declaring that nothing\nwould content him but the death of the King, and the utter extirpation\nof Christianity. \"Then,\" said Oswy, \"if the pagan will not accept\nour gifts, we will offer them to one who will--the Lord our God;\"\nand he prepared for battle, making a vow that if God would vouchsafe\nhim the victory he would erect a monastery, endow it with twelve\nfarms, and dedicate his newly-born daughter to holy virginity and His\nservice. With a comparatively small force, he marched against Penda,\n\"confiding in the conduct of Christ,\" met him near Leeds, and, as the\nSaxon chronicle says, \"Slew King Penda, with thirty men of the Royal\nrace with him, and some of them were kings, among whom was Ethelhere,\nbrother of Anne, King of the East Angles; and the Mercians became\nChristians.\"\n\nThis great and decisive victory, the last conflict in England between\nheathendom and Christianity, was the turning-point in Hilda's career\nof eminence. Had Penda again been the victor, Northumbria would again\nperhaps have lapsed into paganism, and the future saint never have been\nheard of beyond the vicinity of Hartlepool.\n\nAs it was, King Oswy, mindful of his vow, erected a monastery at\nStreoneshalh, on the bank of the Esk, where it falls into the sea in\nWhitby Bay. It was placed on a lofty headland, with a steep ascent from\nthe little fishing hamlet at its foot and a precipitous escarpment\nto the sea. It was formed for both male and female recluses, and\nthe fame of Hilda for piety and judicious government was such that\nshe was selected by the King as the most fitting for the government\nof the establishment. Under her rule Streoneshalh became not only a\nmodel monastic house, but a great school of secular and theological\nlearning. During her superintendence, not less than five of her\nscholars attained the mitre, all of them illustrious prelates of the\nSaxon Church--St. John, of Beverley; St. Wilfrid, of Ripon; and Bosa,\nArchbishops of York; Hedda, Bishop of Dorchester; and Oftfor, Bishop\nof Worcester. \"Thus,\" says Bede, \"this servant of Christ, whom all\nthat knew her called 'mother,' for her singular piety and grace, was\nnot only an example of good life to those that lived in her monastery,\nbut afforded occasion of amendment and salvation to many who lived at\na distance, to whom the fame was brought of her industry and virtue.\"\nFuller observes, \"I behold her as the most learned female before\nthe Conquest, and may call her the she-Gamaliel at whose feet many\nlearned men had their education.\" During her Abbacy, the famous Synod,\nconvened by King Oswy, was held within the walls of Streoneshalh, to\nsettle the vexed questions of the time for the celebration of Easter,\nand of the tonsure, which were subjects of warm dispute between the\nancient British Church and that of Rome, the Northumbrians adhering\nto the former, as inculcated by the missionary monks of Iona, who\nhad been brought hither by Oswald, and who now occupied the sees of\nYork and Lindisfarne. The King, who had been educated in Scotland,\nand consequently held to the British modes, presided, whilst his son,\nPrince Alfred, who had been in Rome, supported the Romanist views.\n\nOn the British side were ranged the Abbess Hilda, Colman, Bishop of\nLindisfarne, and the venerable Cedd, Bishop of the East Saxons; on\nthe Romanist, Agilbert, Bishop of the West Saxons, Wilfrid of Ripon,\nthen a priest, Romanus, and James the Deacon. The dispute was settled\nin favour of the Romish rule, chiefly through the eloquence and force\nof argument of Wilfrid, who afterwards made so conspicuous a figure\nin the Northumbrian Church; and Colman, with his British clergy\nreturned to Iona. The Abbess was as famous for miracles as for her\nother qualities. On the coast of Whitby are found great numbers of\nspecimens of the petrified Cornu Ammonis, commonly called snake stones,\nresembling as they do coiled-up snakes, without heads. This is how\ntheir origin is accounted for. When the Abbey was first built, the\nneighbourhood was infested by snakes, which were a great annoyance to\nthe brethren and sisters of the monastery, and the Abbess, by means of\nprayer, caused them all to be changed into stone.\n\n    \"And how, of thousand snakes, each one\n     Was changed into a coil of stone\n         When holy Hilda prayed:\n     Themselves, within their holy bound,\n     Their stony folds had often found,\n     They told how sea fowls' pinions fail,\n     As over Whitby's towers they sail,\n     And, sinking down, with flutterings faint,\n     They do their homage to the saint.\"\n\nThe Abbess founded some cells in divers places dependant on the Abbey,\none of which was at Hackness, near Scarborough, which she made use of\nas a retreat from the bustle and cares of Streoneshalh, where she\ncould, undisturbed, devote her time more strictly to the exercises\nof fasting, prayer, and meditation, returning to her duties at the\nAbbey refreshed and invigorated spiritually, and the better enabled\nto undergo the distractions incident to her position as head of a\ncommunity of differing and often perplexing temperaments. To these\ncells also she frequently sent her nuns, to give them an opportunity\nfor cultivating closer communion with God, for their spiritual\nedification.\n\nFor the last six years of her life the Abbess suffered greatly from\nsevere indisposition, which frequently laid her prostrate for weeks\ntogether, \"Yet during all this time she never failed to return thanks\nto her Maker, or publicly and privately to instruct the flock committed\nto her charge, admonishing them to serve God in health, and thank Him\nfor adversity or bodily infirmity.\"\n\nAmong the nuns under her care was one from Ireland named Bega, who was\nmost exemplary in her attention to the duties of her religious calling,\neminently endowed with spiritual grace, and conspicuous for her\nhumility, self-abnegation, and all the virtues which adorn a Christian\nlife; which qualities endeared her to the venerable Abbess, and they\ncame to regard each other as mother and daughter rather than as Lady\nSuperior and ordinary nun of a religious establishment.\n\nDuring the long illness of the Abbess, Bega was her constant attendant\nand nurse, and accompanied her in her occasional retreats at Hackness.\nOne afternoon they were seated together in the Abbess's private room,\nwhen the invalid seemed to be rallying in health and entering upon\none of her alternate periods of comparative convalescence. Bega had\nbeen reading to her a new paraphrase of a portion of the Bible, the\ncomposition of C\u00e6dmon, the cow-boy poet of Streoneshalh. She laid down\nthe manuscript at the conclusion, expressing a hope that the Abbess\nhad not been wearied by her imperfect reading, and that in spite of\ndefective knowledge of the characters on the part of the reader, she\nhad been enabled to follow the sense and appreciate the beauty of the\nrendering.\n\n\"Nothing from the pen of C\u00e6dmon,\" said the Abbess, \"ever wearies me;\non the contrary, his compositions are so redolent of spiritual beauty\nthat they seem to refresh my soul, and invigorate my body as well.\nIndeed, at this moment I feel so much better in health that if no\nrelapse occurs in the interval, I propose on the morrow relieving our\ngood Prioress from the duties which I have delegated upon her during my\nsickness.\"\n\n\"Happy am I,\" replied Bega at hearing this, \"and I trust that God,\nif he sees fit, may preserve you for many years to come, in the\nsuperintendence and guidance of this holy house. But, mother dear, your\nrestoration of bodily strength emboldens me to solicit a boon.\"\n\n\"What is it my dear child? Anything that I can grant shall be yours. I\npromise this without knowing what you wish, feeling assured that you\nwill solicit nothing that is inconsistent either with your maidenly\ncharacter or with your altar-made vows.\"\n\n\"I pray for nothing unbeseeming my character in such respects;\nbut, holy mother, of late I fear I have experienced some spiritual\ndeclension, and that I have become more carnally minded than becomes\none whose thoughts should be centred on Christ alone, and I pray you,\nmother dear, to permit me to retire into more entire seclusion from the\nworld, that I may by abstinence, prayer, and close communion with God,\nbe restored to a more wholesome frame of soul.\"\n\n\"Your boon is granted, my child, gladly; repair at once to Hackness,\nand may God shed his blessing upon your pious aspiration for a higher\nlife of holiness.\"\n\nThe following day Bega was escorted to the cell, where the Abbess,\nwith an almost Cistercian eye for sylvan beauty, had planted it, that\nin the midst of a natural Paradise it might bloom as a spiritual Eden,\nand there she at once commenced a season of wholesome asceticism and\nreligious exercises.\n\nA week passed away, and Bega, absorbed in her devotional exercises,\nhad become emaciated by the rigour of her fasting without heeding it;\nand as is usual in such cases, her spirit had become more etherealised\nand more susceptible of supernatural influences. After vespers one\nevening she returned to her lonely sleeping apartment, a bare and\nscantily furnished room, and lay down on her bed, consisting of a thin\nlayer of straw on a hard, wooden pallet, with nothing more than a\ncoarse rug for her coverlet. She slept for a short space, then awoke\nand rose to repeat the nocturnes, kneeling on the rough flooring\nstones. She then lay down again and composed herself to sleep, and\nwas in the half-conscious state between sleeping and waking when she\nwas aroused by hearing a passing-bell boom forth, which sounded like\nthat of Streoneshalh, which was miles beyond earshot, and was the more\nremarkable as the bell of Hackness was much smaller and altogether\ndifferent in tone. She listened with soul-thrilling awe, and thought,\n\"Can it be that the holy mother is departing at this moment to her\nheavenly rest, and that the sound of the passing-bell is miraculously\nbrought to mine ears?\" Scarcely had the thought flashed across her\nmind, when, looking upward, the vaulted roof seemed to be melting away,\nlike a mist under the influence of the morning sun. In a very short\nspace of time it disappeared altogether, and there was presented to\nthe eye of the gazer the expanse of sky studded with stars, sparkling\nlike clusters of diamonds. Presently the knell of the passing-bell\nceased. And there broke upon her ear the sound of distant vocal music.\nAs it came nearer, it seemed different from any music she had ever\nheard; unearthly; heavenly; so ravishingly sweet was the melody. The\nwords she was unable to comprehend, but there was something about them\nwhich seemed to declare them of celestial origin. With raptured ears\nshe listened as the choir, which appeared to be floating in the air,\ncame on and on until it sounded as if immediately overhead. All this\nwhile, too, a constantly increasing effulgence of supernatural light\nwas diffusing itself over the firmament, and when the music came into\nclose proximity to the cell, there burst upon her sight a vision, the\nglory of which she could have hitherto formed no conception of. It was\nthat of a convoy of angels, fairer and more lovely in form and feature\nthan anything ever conceived by artist or poet, or than ever trod the\nearth. It was they who were chanting the divine melody as they floated\nalong overhead with an upward tendency; and in their midst was the\nbeautified soul of the sainted mother of Streoneshalh, which they were\nescorting to the everlasting realms of purity and peace; of eternal\nrest, and an endless duration of unalloyed happiness. The rapt eyes of\nBega were not allowed to rest long on this celestial vision; the group\nascended higher and higher; the voices became fainter and fainter,\nuntil they were altogether lost; and Bega overcome with emotion, fell\ninto an ecstatic trance, and when she awoke from it there was nothing\nto be seen but the glimmer of the moonshine on the walls and roof of\nher cell.\n\nThe next day a messenger arrived announcing the death of the Abbess,\nwhich he stated occurred immediately after nocturnes on the preceding\nnight.\n\nBega remained a little while at Streoneshalh, and then went into\nCumberland, and provided a religious house, called after her, St. Bees,\nwhere she spent the remainder of a most holy life.\n\n\n\n\nA Miracle of St. John.\n\n\nTwo thousand years ago, what is now the East Riding of Yorkshire was\nchiefly forest land, with the exception of the Wold uplands, which\nwere pastures, almost destitute of trees, having some semblance to the\nswelling and rolling waves of the ocean, where the Brigantes fed their\nflocks and herds, where they dwelt in scattered hamlets, and where they\nnow sleep in their multitudinous tumuli. In the lowlands at the foot,\nthe forest was very dense, and was the home of wolves, boars, deer,\nand other wild animals, which were hunted by the natives, who fed upon\ntheir flesh and clothed themselves with their skins. This was called\nthe forest of Deira, and in one spot by the river Hull, a few miles\ndistant from the Humber, was a cleared space, with an eminence in the\nmidst, and at its foot, extending westward, a pool of water, afterwards\na marsh or moor, and since drained, forming now a portion of the town\nof Beverley, its former condition being indicated by two parallel\nstreets--Minster-moorgate, the place of the moor by the Minster; and\nKeldgate, the place of springs. This was a Druidical open air temple,\nwhere the mystical rites of Druidism were performed.\n\nWhen the primitive Christian religion was introduced into Britain, it\nis presumed that a Christian church was established here, on the rising\nground by the lake, as the early Christians built their churches, where\npracticable, on spots held sacred by the people, which supposition\nseems to be confirmed by the express statement that St. John rebuilt,\nnot built, the church in Deira Wood. This early church, doubtless a\nvery rude affair of timber and thatch, was destroyed or allowed to fall\ninto ruin when the Saxons and Angles overspread the land and replaced\nthe religion of Christ by that of Odin. It might possibly be repaired\nduring the short period after the second introduction of Christianity\nby Paulinus and the conversion of King Eadwine, but, if so, would be\nagain destroyed a few years after, under the desolating hands of Penda\nof Mercia, and Cadwalla, as it lay in ruins until the beginning of\nthe eighth century, when it was restored on a grander scale by John,\nArchbishop of York.\n\nSt. John, the learned and pious prelate, one of the brightest\nluminaries of the Saxon Church, was a member of a noble Saxon family, a\nnative of Harpham on the Wolds. He was born in the year 640, studied in\nthe famous Theological School of St. Hilda at Streoneshalh, and became\nsuccessively Bishop of Hagulstat (Hexham) and Archbishop of York, which\nlatter see he held, with unblemished reputation and great usefulness,\nfor a period of more than thirty-three years.\n\nHe was almost incessantly employed in going about his vast diocese,\nrectifying abuses, regulating disordered affairs, exhorting the lax,\nand commending the faithful. In one of these visitations he came to\nthe place in the forest of Deira which had been, half a millennium\npreviously, the Llyn-yr-Avanc of the Celts, and, according to some\nantiquaries, the Peturia of the Romans, a conjecture which is supported\nby the discovery of a tesselated pavement and other Roman remains,\nwhere he found the ruins of the old primeval British Church. The beauty\nand seclusion of the spot struck him as being eminently fitted for the\nestablishment of a monastery, and probably the thought flashed across\nhis mind that hither he would like to retire, in his declining years,\nto finish his life, after the cares and anxieties of his prelateship,\nin the calm of cloistered existence and in the company of a pious\nbrotherhood.\n\nHe did not allow the idea to pass away from his thoughts, but soon\nafter made arrangements for carrying it out. He rebuilt the choir of\nthe old church, founded a monastery of Black Monks, of the order of St.\nColumba, and an oratory for nuns, south of the church, which afterwards\nwas converted into the parish church of St. Martin; erected the church\nof St. Nicholas, in the manor of Riding; placed seven secular priests\nand other ministers of the altar in the head church, and appointed\nBrithunus the first Abbot of the monastery, with superintendence over\nthe other establishments. In 717, he resigned his see, being then\nfeeble and oppressed by the infirmities of age, and retired to his\nmonastery, where he died in 721, and was buried in the porch at the\neastern end of the church.\n\nAfter St. John, the next greatest benefactor to the church and town\nof Beverley was Athelstan the Great, King of Saxon England. Indeed,\nhe may be considered the founder of the secular, as St. John was of\nthe ecclesiastical, town. The town and church had been destroyed by\nthe Danes in 867, but a few years after the dispersed canons and monks\nreturned, and repaired, as far as they could, their ruined buildings,\nso as to be able to continue the celebration of the services; but\nthey remained in a dilapidated state for nearly half a century,\nwhen Athelstan laid the foundations of the future grandeur of the\nchurch, and of the commercial importance of the town. He had heard\nof the sanctity of St. John, and the wonderful series of miracles he\nhad performed, both during his life and after his death, and having\noccasion to chastise Constantine, King of Scotland, for abetting\nthe Danish Anlaf of Northumbria in an invasion of that portion of\nhis dominions--for he had by conquest added northern England to his\ngovernment, and was in truth the first King of England, rather than\nEgbert--he visited Beverley on his march to Scotland, and implored the\naid of the Saint, leaving his dagger on the altar as a pledge that, if\nsuccessful, he would bestow princely benefactions on the church and\ntown. By the assistance of St. John, who appeared to him in a vision,\nhe was the victor in the decisive battle of Brunnanburgh, and nobly he\nkept his word. He made the church a college of secular canons; endowed\nit with four thraves of corn from every plough in the East Riding; and\nmade it a place of sanctuary, as a refuge for criminals, with a stone\nfrid-stool, still in the Minster. He granted a charter to the town,\nconstituting it the capital of the East Riding, with many privileges\nand extraordinary rights; in consequence of which opulent merchants\nflocked to the town, and it soon began to flourish mightily, and\nbecame one of the wealthiest and most important of the trading towns\nof the realm. He also assigned the manor to the Archbishops of York,\nwho built a palace there on the south of the church; vied with each\nother in their patronage of the town, and in adding to and endowing the\ncollegiate church.\n\nIn the beginning of the eleventh century Archbishop Puttock added\na chancellor, a precentor, and a sacrist to the establishment, and\nerected a costly shrine for the relics of St. John, to which they\nwere translated with great pomp in 1037. Archbishop Kinsius erected a\nwestern tower to the church, and Aldred, who held the see at the time\nof the Conquest, rebuilt the choir, and ornamented it with paintings\nand other decorative work, completed the refectory and dormitory of\nthe monastery, and increased the number of canons from seven to eight,\nchanging them at the same time from canons to prebendaries.\n\nAt this time--the period of the Conquest and of the legend--we may\nassume from the usual characteristics of the church architecture of\nthe time, that the church was an oblong building of two stories,\ndivided into a nave and chancel, with a low tower at the western end.\nThere would probably be a lower and an upper range of circular-headed\nwindows, with doorways of the same character, decorated with zigzag\nmouldings, and in the interior would be a double row of massive stunted\ncolumns, supporting semi-circular arches, and at the eastern end,\nin the chancel, the superb shrine of St. John, which was attracting\npilgrims from all parts, and was beginning to be encrusted with the\nsilver and the gold and the gems, bestowed for that purpose by the\npilgrims in grateful remembrance of wonderful cures effected upon them\nby the miracle working of the saint. Such would most probably be the\nchurch in which occurred the incidents narrated in our legend.\n\nWhen the Norman Duke William had won the battle of Hastings, and\nsubdued southern and mid England, and had been crowned King in the\nplace of the slain Harold, he discovered that he was not really King\nof England, but of a part only--that portion north of the Humber,\nforming the old Saxon kingdom of Northumbria of the Heptarchy, and one\nof the Vice-Royal Earldoms of Saxon England, continuing to maintain\nits independence with stubborn tenacity; and it was not until after\nmuch bloodshed that he overcame the sturdy Northumbrians of a mixed\nAnglian and Danish race, and garrisoned York, the capital, with a\nNorman garrison to keep the province in subjection. No sooner, however,\nwas his back turned than the people, under Gospatric, Waltheof, and\nother Danish and Saxon leaders, broke out afresh in insurrection,\nmassacred the Norman garrison at York, and vowed to drive that people\nand their Duke, the usurper of Harold's throne, from Northumbria at\nleast, if not from England altogether. It was after one of the most\nformidable risings that the Conqueror swore that \"by the splendour of\nGod\" he would utterly destroy and exterminate the Northumbrians, so\nthat no more rebellions should rise to trouble him in that quarter of\nhis dominions; and with this view he marched northwards, crossed the\nHumber--probably at Brough--and encamped at a spot some seven miles\nwestward of Beverley, purposing to proceed henceward to York on the\nmorrow.\n\nOn his road from the Humber to his encampment he had burnt the villages\nand crops, and slain the villagers who came in his way, but the\nmajority, taking the alarm, fled to Beverley, hoping to find safety\nwithin the limits of the League of Sanctuary, thinking that even\nso merciless a soldier as Duke William would respect its hallowed\nprecincts. But he, godly in a sense, and superstitious as he was,\nentertained no such scruples, and he had no sooner seen his army\nencamped than he despatched Thurstinus, one of the captains, with a\nbody of Norman soldiers to ravage and plunder the town.\n\nThe people of Beverley and the fugitives who had fled thither\ndeemed themselves safe under the protection of their patron saint;\nnevertheless they felt some alarm when the news was brought that the\nruthless Conqueror lay so near them, and still more when they heard\nthat a detachment was marching upon the town with hostile intentions.\nThe church was filled with devotees, who prostrated themselves before\nthe saint's shrine, imploring him not to abandon his church and town\nin this extremity. The day had been gloomy and downcast, but when they\nwere thus supplicating the holy saint the sun came shining through\none of the windows directly upon the shrine, and lighted it up with\na brilliance that seemed supernatural, which was looked upon as a\nfavourable response to the prayers of the supplicants.\n\nThurstinus and his followers had by this time entered the town, but\nhad, so far, done no injury to either person or property. As they\napproached the church, they perceived before them a venerable figure,\nclad in canonical raiment, with gold bracelets on his arms, moving\nacross the churchyard, towards the western porch. The sight of the\ngolden bracelets excited the cupidity of one of the subalterns of the\ncorps, who darted after him, sword in hand, and overtook him just as\nhe was passing through the portal. The soldier had but placed his foot\nwithin the church, when the aged man turned towards him and exclaimed,\n\"Vain and presumptuous man! darest thou enter my church, the sacred\ntemple of Christ, sword in hand, with bloodthirsty intent? This shall\nbe the last time that thine hand shall draw the sword,\" and instantly\nthe sword fell from his grasp, and he sank down on the ground, stricken\nby a deadly paralysis. Thurstinus, not witting what had happened to his\nofficer, came riding up, with drawn sword, with the intent of passing\ninto the church to despoil it of its valuables; but on entering the\ndoorway he was confronted by the aged man with the bracelets, who\nstretched forth his arm, and said to him, \"No further, sacrilegious\nman; wouldst thou desolate my church? Know that it is guarded by\nsuperhuman power, and thou must pay the penalty of thy impious\ntemerity!\" and immediately he fell from his horse to the pavement\nwith a broken neck, his face turned backward, and his feet and hands\ndistorted \"like a misshapen monster.\" At this manifest interposition\nof Heaven the Normans fled back to the encampment with terror-stricken\ncountenances, and the people in the church looked round for their\ndeliverer, but he had vanished, and they then knew that it was St.\nJohn himself, who had come down from heaven to protect his town and\nchurch from the insult and ravages of Norman ferocity.\n\nWhen the soldiers reached the camp they reported to their superior\nofficer the result of their expedition and the horrible death of\ntheir leader, which they could not attribute to anything less than\nsupernatural power. The report in due course reached the King, who\nsummoned the soldiers into his presence, and listened to their\nnarrative with superstitious awe. \"Truly,\" said he, \"this John must be\na potent saint, and it were well not to meddle with what appertains to\nhim, lest worse evil befal us. He may possibly use his influence in\nthwarting our designs against the rebels of this barbarous northern\nregion. Let not his town and the lands pertaining to his church be\ninjured, or subject to the chastisement and just vengeance we intend\nagainst those who have dared to raise the standard of revolt against\nour divinely ordained authority; but rather let them be protected, for\nit were bootless and perilous to fight against Heaven. Onward then\nto York, and when we have, by such severity as the case warrants,\neffectually crushed the spirit of revolt, we will consider what\nfurther can be done to propitiate this saint, whom it were well to\nconciliate by gifts, so that he may be led in gratitude to recompense\nus by assisting in the consolidation of our power, which is not yet\nestablished on sufficiently firm foundations.\"\n\nHe found no difficulty in suppressing the insurrection when he reached\nYork, putting to the sword those of the insurgents who remained there\nafter their leaders had fled towards Scotland. In order to prevent any\nfuture rising, with any possible chance of success or gleam of hope, he\nthen meditated and carried out a cold-blooded scheme, which might have\nbeen deemed a measure of policy, but which for ferocity equalled any\nact of cruelty perpetrated by the most atrocious tyrant of pagan ages.\nHe sent forth his men with swords and torches, to the north, the west,\nand the east, and for an extent of sixty miles, from York to Durham,\nby several miles in breadth, laid the country desolate. Villages,\nchurches, monasteries, and castles, with the granaries of corn and\nthe standing crops, were all destroyed by fire, and every person,\nman, woman, child, or priest, met with was slaughtered without mercy;\nand when the work had been accomplished, this vast extent of country\nbore the aspect of a Western American prairie after it had been swept\nby fire, leaving only the charred stumps of the trees standing, with\nthis difference, however, that there only the half-burnt bodies of\nanimals, such as were not able to escape by flight, are found; whilst\nhere, scattered profusely on the wood-side, and round their once\ncheerful and happy homesteads, lay the rotting and putrefying corpses\nof human beings, on which the wolves and birds of prey were battening\nand gorging themselves; and it took many and many a year before this\nregion recovered itself and became again a country of farmsteads and\nvillages, of crops and fruit trees, and of an industrious population.\nWilliam of Malmesbury says that not less than 100,000 persons perished\nin this fearful act of vengeance; and Alured of Beverley, a monkish\nwriter, and treasurer of St. John's Church, states that \"The Conqueror\ndestroyed men, women, and children, from York even to the western sea,\nexcept those who fled to the church of the glorious confessor, the\nmost blessed John, Archbishop, at Beverley, as the only asylum.\" An\nindisputable proof of the desolation wrought on the lands appears in\nthe Domesday Book, which in most places in Yorkshire is described as\nwaste or partially waste, and which is represented as of no value or\nof much less value than in King Edward's time; whilst in Beverley and\nthe lands of St. John there is scarcely any waste mentioned, and the\nvalue is given as the same or nearly the same as in the reign of the\nConfessor. Under Bevreli we read, \"Value in King Edward's time, to the\nArchbishop 24 pounds, to the Canons 20 pounds, the same as at present.\"\n\nThe King not only exempted the town and demesne from devastation, but\nbecame a notable benefactor thereto. He added to the possession of\nthe church certain lands at Sigglesthorne, and granted the following\nconfirmatory charter:--\"William the King greets friendly all my Thanes\nin Yorkshire, French and English. Know ye that I have given St. John\nat Beverley sac and soc over all the lands which were given in King\nEdward's days to St. John's Minster, and also over the lands which\nEaldred, the Archbishop, hath since obtained in my days, whether in\nthis Thorp or in Campland. It shall all be free from me and all other\nmen, excepting the Bishop and the Minster priests; and no man shall\nslay deer, nor violate what I have given to Christ and St. John. And\nI will that there shall be, for ever, monastic life and canonical\ncongregation so long as any man liveth. God's blessing be with all\nChristian men who assist at this holy worship. Amen.\"\n\nAnd from this time the town flourished greatly, and grew rapidly in\npopulation and wealth. As to the church, it became more than ever the\nresort of pilgrims, who left rich presents on the shrine of St. John.\nIn the year 1188 the old Saxon church was destroyed by fire, which may\nbe deemed a fortunate occurrence, as men were stimulated at this, the\nbest period of Gothic architecture, to erect over the relics of St.\nJohn a structure worthy of his eminence and fame; and the outcome of\nthis impulse was the uprising of the existing magnificent church, which\nis now the great architectural glory of the East Riding.\n\n\n\n\nThe Beatified Sisters of Beverley.\n\n\nIn the south aisle of the nave of Beverley Minster may be seen an\nuninscribed canopied altar tomb. It is a very fine specimen of the\nEarly Decorated style, manifestly dating from the period of Edward\nII. or the earlier portion of the reign of his successor. It is\ncovered with a massive slab of Purbeck marble, rising above which is\nan exquisitely proportioned pointed arch or canopy, with pinnacles\nand turrets, crocketted work and finials, all elaborately chiselled\nand carefully finished. History records not whose mortal remains are\ndeposited in the tomb: there it stands like the Sphynx on the sands\nof Egypt, maintaining a mysterious silence as to its origin, \"a thing\nof beauty,\" displaying its elegance of form and the charms of its\nsculptured features to all beholders; but seeming to say--\"Admire the\nperfection of my symmetry if you will, but inquire not whose relics I\nenshrine, whether of noble or saint. Unlike my more gorgeous sister\ntomb, in the choir, near the altar, which blazons forth the glory of\nthe Percys, I choose, with Christian humility, and recognising the fact\nthat death renders all equal, and that in the sight of the Almighty\nJudge a Percy is no better for all his glories than the pauper--to draw\na veil over the earthly greatness of the family to which I belong.\"\n\nAlthough history is thus silent in respect to the origin of the tomb,\ntradition is less reticent, and from its oral records we learn, not\nperhaps all that can be desired, but a narrative that probably has a\nbasis of truth.\n\nAbout a mile westward of Beverley Westwood, on the road to York, lies\nthe pretty picturesque village of Bishop Burton, with its church on an\neminence commanding an extensive view of the Wold lands on one hand,\nand of the country sloping down to the Humber on the other. It is\nenvironed by groups of patriarchal trees, including a noble specimen of\nthe witch elm on the village green, with a trunk forty-eight feet in\ncircumference, and which is held in great veneration by the villagers;\nand in the valley below is a small lake, which doubtless supplied fish\nto the household of the Archbishops of York when they had a palace\nhere. It is a very ancient village, dating from the Celtic period,\nwhen it formed a burial place of the Druids and British chieftains.\nOne of the numerous tumuli was opened in 1826. It was seventy yards in\ncircumference, and was found to contain several skeletons of our remote\nforefathers of that race. From some tesselated pavements which have\nbeen discovered, it appears also to have been occupied afterwards by\nthe Romans.\n\nAt the end of the seventh and beginning of the eighth century, the\nLordship of South Burton, as it was then called, was held by Earl Puch,\na Saxon noble. Its name was changed, after the Conquest, to Bishop\nBurton, from the circumstance that it belonged to the Archbishops of\nYork, and their having a palace in the village, where Archbishop John\nle Romayne died in 1295. At this time South Burton formed a sort of\noasis in a vast wilderness of forest, extending for miles in every\ndirection, including the now open breezy upland of Beverley Westwood,\nthen infested by wolves, through which ran trackways to Beverlega,\nwhere stood the recently founded church and monastery of St. John,\nnorthward of which, at the foot of the Wolds, lay another extent of\nforest land, called Northwood, perpetuated to this day in the name of\nthe street--Norwood. Earl Puch's mansion was an erection of timber,\nwith few of the appliances of modern domestic life, with a large hall,\nwherein he dined with his family and guests at the upper end of a long\ntable, and his retainers and domestics at the lower end. More in the\ninterior were the Lady Puch's bower and other private and sleeping\napartments of the family; with inferior rooms for the household\nservants, the swineherds, cowherds, huntsmen, and other outdoor menials\nsleeping in the outhouses, with the animals of which they had charge.\n\nEarl Puch had built a church in the village, a very primitive specimen\nof architecture, consisting of nave and chancel, of timber and wattles,\nwith round-headed doors and windows, and rude zigzag ornamentation. It\nhad neither tower nor transept, lacked bells, and its pulpit, altar,\nand font were fashioned of rough-hewn wood. Yet was it sufficient for\nthe wants of the age, and served the purpose of worship, the heart\nbeing rightly tuned, as the most gorgeous cathedral of after ages.\n\nSt. John had now resigned the Archbishopric of York, and had retired\nto his monastery at Beverlega, to spend the remnant of his life in\nprayer, devotional exercises, and the seclusion of the cloister. The\nEarl, a pious man, was on very friendly terms with the ex-Archbishop,\nand invited him to come and consecrate his church, just finished, to\nwhich John readily assented, and, despite his years and infirmities, on\nthe appointed day took up his walking staff and went on foot through\nWestwood to South Burton, meditating by the way on his past life,\non his ancestral home at Harpham-on-the-Wolds, his student's life\nunder St. Hilda at the Abbey of Streoneshalh, his episcopal career\nat Hagulstadt, his experience on the Archiepiscopal Throne of York,\nand his retirement to the Abbey of Beverlega, acknowledging, with\ngrateful thanksgiving, the Providential hand that had sustained him\nthrough his varied course of life. On the arrival of the ex-Prelate\nat South Burton, he found the family in great grief in consequence of\nthe illness of the Lady Puch, who had been stricken down by a severe\nattack of fever, which threatened to terminate her life. She was an\nexceedingly devout woman, assiduous in her attention to the duties\nof religion, charitable to the poor, and a great blessing to the\npoor and destitute of the village. A great portion of her time was\nspent in the educational training of her two lovely daughters, now\napproaching womanhood, and who much resembled her in the piety of their\nlives. She had now lain in bed a month, suffering agonies of torment,\nand expecting every day would be her last. Her husband wished to\npostpone the consecration of the church in consequence of her critical\ncondition, but she would not listen to it. \"Why,\" said she, \"should\nthe poor people be deprived of the privilege of hearing the service of\nGod performed in a consecrated edifice because I, a poor insignificant\nmortal like themselves, am labouring under this affliction? Let the\nconsecration take place the same as if I were well and able to take\npart in the ceremony; the thought of what is taking place will be more\nbeneficial to me than all the doctor's medicine that shall be given\nme;\" and it was determined that the ceremony should be proceeded with\nas if there were no impediment in the way.\n\nBrithunus, a disciple of St. John, and the first abbot of his\nmonastery, had also come over to assist in the ceremony, and to him\nwe are indebted for a narrative of the miracle which accompanied\nit, as well as of many another notable miracle performed by St.\nJohn, which he communicated to Bede, who interwove them into his\nEcclesiastical History. The consecration was duly performed according\nto the Anglo-Saxon style, with singing, prayers, the sprinkling of holy\nwater, and a proclamation from the Archbishop that the edifice was now\nrendered sacred, and become a temple of the Living God, concluding with\na benediction. \"Then,\" says Brithunus, \"the Earl desired him to dine\nat his house, but the Bishop declined, saying he must return to the\nmonastery. The Earl pressing him more earnestly, vowed he would give\nalms to the poor if the Bishop would break his fast that day in his\nhouse. I joined my entreaties to his, promising in like manner to give\nalms for the relief of the poor if he would go and dine at the Earl's\nhouse and give his blessing. Having at length, with great difficulty,\nprevailed, we went in to dine.\"\n\nThe banquet was served with the profusion and splendour of the time,\nconsisting chiefly of boar's flesh, venison, fish, and birds, eaten\nfrom platters of wood, with an ample supply of wine, which was\npassed round in flagons of silver. In the course of the repast, the\nconversation was confined almost exclusively to two topics--the new\nchurch and the hopes that were entertained of its becoming a blessing\nto the neighbourhood, and the illness of the Earl's wife, with which\nthe Bishop sympathised with much kindly feeling.\n\n\"Can nothing be done,\" inquired the Earl, \"by means of the church\nto alleviate her sufferings, if not to restore her to health? The\nphysicians are at their wit's end; they know nothing of the nature\nof the disease, and the remedies they give seem rather to aggravate\nthan cure it. Peradventure the blessing of a holy man might have a\nbeneficial effect.\"\n\n\"The issues of life and death,\" replied the Bishop, \"are in the hands\nof God alone. Sometimes it is even impious to attempt to overrule\nHis ordinations, which, although often inscrutable and productive of\naffliction and suffering, are intended for some ultimate good.\"\n\nAt this moment one of the lady's handmaidens entered the\nbanqueting-room with a message from her mistress to the effect that\nher pains had materially lessened since the consecration had taken\nplace, and that she desired a draught of the holy water that had been\nused, feeling an inward conviction that it, accompanied by the Bishop's\nblessing, would be of great service. \"The Bishop then,\" continues\nBrithunus, \"sent to the woman that lay sick some of the holy water\nwhich he had blessed for the consecration of the church, by one of\nthe brothers that went along with me, ordering him to give her some\nto drink, and wash the place where her greatest pain was with some of\nthe same. This being done, the woman immediately got up in health,\nand perceiving that she had not only been delivered from her tedious\ndistemper, but at the same time recovered the strength which she had\nlost, she presented the cup to the Bishop and me, and continued serving\nus with drink, as she had begun, till dinner was over, following the\nexample of Peter's mother-in-law, who, having been sick of a fever,\narose at the touch of our Lord, and having at once received health and\nstrength, ministered to them.\"\n\nThe two young daughters of the Earl, on witnessing the miraculous\nrestoration to health of their beloved mother, had retired together\nto their chamber to offer up their heartfelt thanksgivings to God\nfor her recovery, and before the Bishop's departure came down to\nthe banqueting-hall and received his blessing. They were exceedingly\nlovely both in form and feature, and when they entered the hall, with\nmodest downcast eyes, it seemed to those present as if two angelic\nbeings from the celestial sphere had deigned to visit them. \"Come\nhither, my children,\" said their mother, \"and thank the good Bishop\nfor interceding with heaven on my behalf, and who has thus been\ninstrumental in delivering me from the terrible disease under which\nI have been labouring for so long a period.\" In response, the young\nmaidens went to the Bishop, and kneeling at his feet, expressed their\ngratitude to him for what he had done, and implored his blessing.\nPlacing his hands on their heads, he said, \"My dear daughters in\nChrist, attribute not to me, a sinful mortal, that which is due alone\nto our Merciful Father in Heaven, who has seen fit first to afflict\nyour mother with grievous trials for some wise purpose, and then\nsuddenly to restore her to health, that her soul may be purified so\nas to enable her to pass through this lower world, untainted by the\ngrosser sins, but, like all fallible mortals, to be still open to\nlesser temptations, that in the end she may be rendered meet to enter\nthat higher sphere of existence which is reserved for those who live\nholy lives here below. May God bless you, my dear daughters, tread in\nthe footsteps of your saintly mother, that you also may be made meet\nfor the same inheritance of light.\" So saying, the Bishop took up his\nstaff, and bidding farewell to the Earl and his family, wended his way,\naccompanied by Brithunus and the monks, through Westwood to his home at\nBeverlega.\n\nFrom this time the two young ladies continued to grow in stature and\nloveliness of person, as well as in fervent piety and the grace of God.\nThey had sprung up into young womanhood, and many were the suitors\nfor their hands who came fluttering about South Burton, knowing well\nthat, as the Earl had no son, nor was likely to have one, they must,\nif they survived him, become his co-heiresses. But they refused to\nlisten to the flatteries and protestations of everlasting love of these\nyoung fellows, not so much because they saw through the hollowness\nand feigned nature of their professions of love, but because they had\ndetermined to live lives of celibacy, devoted solely to the service\nof God. St. John made repeated visits to South Burton, and nothing\nafforded them greater spiritual comfort and holy pleasure than\nlengthened converse with him on the things that pertain to everlasting\nlife. But a couple of years after the consecration of the church he\npassed away to his rest and reward, \"with his memory overshadowed by\nthe benedictions of mankind,\" and was buried in the portico of the\nchurch of Beverlega, which he had founded.\n\nA few years after this the two maidens, with the full consent of their\nparents, entered the convent of St. John, at Beverlega, to spend the\nremainder of their lives in the holy seclusion of the cloister. The\nEarl was an extensive landed proprietor, with possessions in and about\nSouth Burton, and others on the banks of the Hull, near Grovehill, a\nlanding-place of the Romans, and now a suburb of Beverley, with some\nextensive manufacturing works. When his daughters entered the convent\nhe bestowed upon it the manor of Walkington, lying southward of South\nBurton and abutting on Beverley Westwood. At the same time he made a\ngrant to the people of Beverlega of a tract of swampy land on the banks\nof the Hull, to serve as a common pasturage for their cattle. This\ntract of land, now called Swinemoor, is still held by the burgesses\nof Beverley, forming one of the four valuable pastures, containing, in\nthe aggregate, nearly 1,200 acres, the property of the freemen of the\nborough.\n\nThere are reasons for believing that a Christian Church existed on the\nshores of the Beaver Lake, in the wood of Deira, the site of the modern\nBeverley, in the time of the Ancient British Apostolic Christianity,\nwhich had formerly been the scene of the Druidical religion, which\nwas destroyed by the pagan Saxons, and re-edified by St. John the\nArchbishop. In one of his progresses through his diocese, he came\nto this clearing in the wood of Deira, with its sacred beaver-lake,\nformerly called Llyn yr Avanc, now Inder-a-wood, and was struck by its\nsylvan beauty and its quiet seclusion. He found there a very small\nwooden church, thatched with reeds, which he determined to restore and\nenlarge, and founded, in connection with it, a religious house for both\nsexes--a monastery for men and a nunnery for women. He added to it a\nchoir, and appointed seven priests to officiate at the altar; built the\nmonastery, and endowed it with lands for its support. Hither he retired\nwhen enfeebled by age, and here he was buried in the porch of his\nchurch in the year 721.\n\nIt was to this nunnery that the Sisters Agnes and Agatha went, and\nafter a period of probation, were despoiled of their hair, and assumed\nthe veil of the sisterhood. The religious houses of the Saxons were\nnot the luxurious abodes that they became in after years. The life\nled there was one of ascetic severity, with bare walls, hard pallets,\nscanty food of the simplest description, a continuous series of prayers\nand religious exercises, accompanied by frequent fastings, penances,\nand fleshly mortification, to all which the two sisters submitted with\ncheerfulness, as conducive to the spiritual health of their souls.\nThey were never found sleeping when the summons for divine service was\nsounded forth, and they were ever willing to perform the most menial\nduties as tending to keep within them a spirit of Christian humility.\nTheir profound piety and rigorous attention to disciplinary matters\nexcited the admiration of the Mother Superior, but never would they\nlend ear to praises from her lips, lest it should engender spiritual\npride, the aim of their lives being to rank as the lowest servants\nof the servants of Christ. And thus the years passed along in one\nmonotonous but ever-blessed sameness, ever dwelling within the walls\nand precincts of the nunnery, save on two occasions, when they went to\nSouth Burton to attend the funerals of their parents.\n\nIt was the eve of the Nativity, a bright starlight night, as that over\nBethlehem when the three wise men of the East came thither guided by\nthe wandering star. The nuns were assembled in their chapel for an\nearly service, amongst whom were the two sisters apparently absorbed in\ndivine meditation. The nuns then retired for their evening refection\nand silent contemplation in their cells until midnight, when the bell\nsummoned them again to the chapel for midnight Mass, which was to usher\nin the holy day. At this service there was a strange and unwonted\nomission; the two sisters were absent. \"Where are the Sisters Agnes and\nAgatha?\" inquired the Abbess; \"surely something has befallen them, else\nthey would not be absent, especially on such an occasion as this. Go\nand search diligently for them.\" Every corner of the building and the\ngrounds outside were searched, but in vain; not a vestige of them could\nbe found; and at length, as the hour of midnight was close at hand,\nthe Mass was proceeded with. The following day, that of the Nativity,\nwas devoted to the usual festal, religious duties; but a heaviness of\nheart pervaded the assembly, as the sisters had not re-appeared, and no\ntidings of them could be heard.\n\nDays, weeks, and months passed away, and no clue to their mysterious\ndisappearance presented itself until the eve of St. John, their patron\nsaint. The vespers had been sung, with special reference to the coming\nday, and the nuns had gone out to breathe the air of the summer\nevening, whilst the Abbess, taking the key of the tower, unlocked\nthe door and went up the stone stairs to the top, a place not much\nfrequented, where she thought to offer up her prayers beneath the open\ndome of heaven, without any intervening walls. She had just placed her\nfoot on the topmost stair when she was startled at beholding the two\nsisters lying locked in each other's arms and with upward turned eyes.\nAt the first glance she supposed them to be dead, but a moment after\nwas undeceived by their rising, and saying, \"Mother, dear! it will soon\nbe time for the midnight Mass; but how is this? We lay down an hour\nago, under the sky of a winter night, but now we have awakened under\nthe setting sun of a summer eve.\"\n\n\"An hour ago! my children,\" replied the Abbess, \"it is now months\nsince you disappeared on the eve of the Nativity, and months since the\nmidnight Mass of the birth of our Saviour was sung. Can it be you have\nbeen sleeping here all through the interval?\"\n\n\"Mother, dear,\" they replied, after some further questionings and\nexplanations, \"we have not been sleeping, we have been transported\nto heaven, and have seen sights inconceivable to the human eye, and\nheard music such as has never been listened to in this lower world.\nThe heaven that we have visited is no mere localised spot, but extends\nthroughout infinite space. It possesses no land or water; no mountains\nand valleys; no rivers, or lakes, or trees, or material objects of any\nkind; but has picturesque scenery, impalpable and cloudlike, of the\nmost ravishing beauty. It is peopled by myriads of angelic beings and\nbeatified mortals, unsubstantial and etherealised, all of exquisitely\nsymmetrical figures, and with gloriously radiant features, beaming with\nhappiness and smiling with serenity. Unlike the popular opinion, it is\nnot a place of idle lounging and repose, but of intense activity, all\nbeing engaged in employments which afford an intensity of pleasurable\nemotions. The Almighty Father and Creator of all this realm of beauty\nand of all these glorified creatures it was not possible for us to see\nwith our mortal eyes, but we were perfectly cognisant of His influence\nand presence everywhere throughout the infinitude of space. But oh! the\nmusic! here, on earth, it is termed divine, but our sweetest melodies\nare but a jarring discord of sounds compared with that of heaven;\nmortal ear cannot form the faintest conception of its sublime grandeur\nand unutterable loveliness.\"\n\nThus spake they to the astonished Abbess, who at once recognised\nthe fact of their miraculous transportation to the realms of light\nfor a temporary sojourn there, that on their return to earth they\nmight be the means of comforting and encouraging those who by holy\nlives of asceticism, self-denial, and prayer, were wending their way\nthitherwards; and she conducted them down to their sister nuns, to whom\nagain they had to narrate the visions that had been vouchsafed to them.\n\n    \"There is joy in the convent of Beverley,\n       Now these saintly maidens are found,\n     And to hear their story right wonderingly\n       The nuns have gathered around;\n     The long-lost maidens, to whom was given\n       To live so long the life of heaven.\"\n\nThe Sisters further stated that the first spirit they met was the\nholy St. John, the founder of their convent, whom they immediately\nrecognised, although he had cast off his earthly integuments, and\nappeared in a glorified form, but in semblance as when he performed the\nmiracle at South Burton.\n\nHe welcomed them with affectionate warmth, and told them that their\nparents were now enjoying the reward of their virtuous and pious lives,\nbut that they could not be permitted to see them until they themselves\nhad finally passed away from earthly life. He further told them that he\nkept a watchful eye over his town and monastery in Inder-a-wood, with\naffectionate love, which should be seen in after ages, in the promotion\nof their prosperity.\n\nThe next day the festival of St. John was celebrated in the monastery\nand church, with more than usual interest and devotion. Towards the\nclose of it--\n\n    \"The maidens have risen, with noiseless tread\n       They glide o'er the marble floor;\n     They seek the Abbess with bended head:\n       'Thy blessing we would implore,\n     Dear mother! for e'er the coming day\n       Shall blush into light, we must hence away.'\n     The Abbess hath lifted her gentle hands,\n       And the words of peace hath said,\n     'O vade in pacem;' aghast she stands,\n       'Have their innocent spirits fled?'\n     Yes, side by side lie these maidens fair,\n       Like two wreaths of snow in the moonlight there.\"\n\nAt the same time the church became lighted up with a supernatural\nroseate hue, and sounds of celestial music ravished the ears of the\nassembly. The Sisters were laid side by side by tender and reverent\nhands in a tomb near the altar of the church, and now--\n\n    \"Fifty summers have come and passed away,\n       But their loveliness knoweth no decay;\n     And many a chaplet of flowers is hung,\n       And many a bead told there;\n     And many a hymn of praise is sung,\n       And many a low-breathed prayer;\n     And many a pilgrim bends the knee\n       At the shrine of the Sisters of Beverley.\"\n\nThe tomb of the Sisters was destroyed in the great fire of 1188, which\ndestroyed not only St. John's Church and monastery, but the whole\ntown besides. They were afterwards rebuilt--the Minster in the superb\nstyle which it now presents--and it was in remembrance of these sainted\nSisters that the uninscribed tomb was placed in the new church.\n\nThis legend has formed the subject of an exquisite poem, which appeared\nin the pages of the _Literary Gazette_, and has been attributed to the\npen of Alaric A. Watts, which, however, is open to doubt.\n\n\n\n\nThe Dragon of Wantley.\n\n\nOnce on a time--as the old storytellers were wont to commence their\ntales of love, chivalry, and romance--there dwelt in the most wild and\nrugged part of Wharncliffe Chase, near Rotherham, a fearful dragon,\nwith iron teeth and claws. How he came there no one knew, or where\nhe came from; but he proved to be a most pestilent neighbour to the\nvillagers of Wortley--blighting the crops by the poisonous stench of\nhis breath, devouring the cattle of the fields, making no scruple of\nseizing upon a plump child or a tender young virgin to serve as a\n_bonne-bouche_ for his breakfast table, and even crunching up houses\nand churches to satisfy his ravenous appetite.\n\nWortley, is situated in the parish of Penistone, and belongs now, as it\nhas done for centuries, to the Wortley family. Before the dissolution\nof monasteries, the Rectory of Penistone belonged to the Abbey of St.\nStephen, Westminster, and was granted, when the Abbey was dissolved,\nto Thomas Howard, third Duke of Norfolk, who out of the proceeds\nestablished in Sheffield a set of almshouses. The impropriation of\nthe great tithes were let to the Wortley family, who, by measures of\noppression and extortion, contrived to get a great deal more than\nthey were entitled to, and Nicholas Wortley insisted on taking the\ntithes in kind, but was opposed by Francis Bosville, who obtained a\ndecree (17th Elizabeth) against him; but Sir Francis Wortley, in the\nsucceeding reign, again attempted to enforce payment in kind, with so\nmuch disregard to the suffering he inflicted upon the poor that they\ndetermined upon finding out some champion who would dare to attack this\nredoubtable dragon in his den at Wantley, so as to put an end, once and\nfor all, to the destruction of their crops, the loss of their cattle,\nand the desolation of their ruined homes. Foremost in this movement\nwas one Lyonel Rowlestone, who married the widow of Francis Bosville;\nand the parishioners entered into an agreement to unite in opposition\nto the claims of the Wortleys. The parchment on which it is written\nis dated 1st James I., and bristles with the names and seals of the\npeople of Penistone of that time, and is still extant.\n\nIn the neighbourhood, on a moor not far from Bradfield, stood a mansion\ncalled More or Moor Hall, and was inhabited by a family who had\nresided there from the time of Henry II., but of whom little is known,\nexcepting the wonderful achievement of one member of the family, \"More\nof More Hall,\" who slew the Dragon of Wantley.\n\nThe family had for their crest a green dragon, and there was formerly\nin Bradfield Church a stone dragon, five feet in length, which had some\nconnection with the family. To this worthy, who, it is supposed, may\nhave been an attorney or counsellor, the parishioners of Penistone,\nhaving decided upon appealing to the law courts, applied to undertake\ntheir case, and make battle on the terrible dragon in his den among\nthe rocks of the forest of Wharncliffe. He readily complied with their\nwish, and with great boldness and valour prepared for the conflict\nby going to Sheffield and ordering a suit of armour, studded with\nspikes--that is, arming himself with the panoply of law, and then\nwent forth and made the attack. The fight is said, in the ballad\nnarrative, to have lasted two days and nights, probably the duration\nof the lawsuit, and in the end he killed the dragon, or won his suit,\nthus relieving the people of Penistone from any further annoyance or\nunjust exaction from that quarter. Sir Francis Wortley persuaded his\ncousin Wordsworth, the freehold lord of the manor (ancestor, lineal or\ncollateral, of the Poet Wordsworth), to stand aloof in the matter, and\nnow the Wortley and the Wordsworth are the only estates in the parish\nthat pay tithes.\n\nTo commemorate the event an exceedingly humorous and cleverly satirical\nballad was written, which, being also a lively burlesque on the\nballad romances of chivalry, served the same purpose towards them\nthat Cervantes' \"Don Quixote\" did for the prose fictions of the same\ncharacter. Thus opens the ballad--\n\n    \"Old stories tell how Hercules\n       A dragon slew at Gerna,\n     With seven heads and fourteen eyes\n       To see and well discerna;\n     But he had a club, this dragon to drub,\n       Or he had ne'er I warrant ye;\n     But More of More Hall with nothing at all,\n       He slew the dragon of Wantley.\n\n    \"This dragon had two furious wings,\n       Each one upon each shoulder;\n     With a sting in his tail, as long as a flail,\n       Which made him bolder and bolder.\n     He had long claws, and in his jaws\n       Four and forty teeth of iron;\n     With a hide as tough as any buff,\n       Which did him round environ.\"\n\nIt then goes on to describe how \"he ate three children at one sup, as\none would eat an apple.\" Also all sorts of cattle and trees, the forest\nbeginning to diminish very perceptibly, and \"houses and churches,\"\nwhich to him were geese and turkeys, \"leaving none behind.\"\n\n    \"But some stones, dear Jack, that he could not crack,\n             Which on the hills you will finda.\"\n\nThese stones are supposed to be a reference to the Lyonel Rowlestone,\nwho was the leader of the opposition. There are many local allusions\nof a similar character, which would no doubt add much to the keenness\nof the satire and the humour, but which are lost to us through our\nignorance of the circumstances and persons alluded to.\n\n\"In Yorkshire, near fair Rotherham,\" was his den, and at Wantley a well\nfrom which he drank.\n\n    \"Some say this dragon was a witch,\n       Some say he was a devil;\n     For from his nose a smoke arose\n       And with it burning snivel.\"\n\n\"Hard by a furious knight there dwelt,\" who could \"wrestle, play at\nquarter-staff, kick, cuff, and huff; and with his hands twain could\nswing a horse till he was dead, and eat him all up but his head.\" To\nthis wonderful athlete came \"men, women, girls, and boys, sighing and\nsobbing, and made a hideous noise--O! save us all, More of More Hall,\nthou peerless knight of these woods; do but slay this dragon, who won't\nleave us a rag on, we'll give thee all our goods.\" The Knight replied--\n\n    \"Tut, tut,\" quoth he, \"no goods I want;\n       But I want, I want, in sooth,\n     A fair maid of sixteen, that's brisk and keen,\n       With smiles about her mouth;\n     Hair black as sloe, skin white as snow,\n       With blushes her cheeks adorning;\n     To anoint me o'er night, e'er I go to the fight,\n       And to dress me in the morning.\"\n\nThis being agreed to, he hied to Sheffield, and had a suit of armour,\ncovered with spikes five or six inches long, made, which, when he\ndonned it, caused the people to take him for \"an Egyptian porcupig,\"\nand the cattle for \"some strange, outlandish hedgehog.\" When he rose\nin the morning,\n\n    \"To make him strong and mighty\n       He drank, by the tale, six pots of ale\n     And a quart of _aqua vit\u00e6_.\"\n\nThus equipped and with his valour braced up, he went to Wantley,\nconcealing himself in the well, and when the dragon came to drink, he\nshouted \"Boh,\" and struck the monster a blow on the mouth. The knight\nthen came out of the well, and they commenced fighting, for some time\nwithout advantage on either side--without either receiving a wound. At\nlength, however, after fighting two days and a night, the dragon gave\nhim a blow which made him reel and the earth to quake. \"But More of\nMore Hall, like a valiant son of Mars,\" returned the compliment with\nsuch vigour that--\n\n    \"Oh! quoth the dragon, with a deep sigh,\n       And turned six times together;\n     Sobbing and tearing, cursing and swearing\n       Out of his throat of leather;\n     More of More Hall! O, thou rascal!\n       Would I had seen thee never;\n     With the thing on thy foot, thou has pricked my gut\n       And I'm quite undone for ever.\n\n    \"Murder! murder! the dragon cry'd.\n       Alack! alack! for grief;\n     Had you but mist that place, you could\n       Have done me no mischief.\n     Then his head he shaked, trembled and quaked,\n       And down he laid and cry'd,\n     First on one knee, then on back tumbled he:\n       So groan'd, kick't, and dy'd.\"\n\nHenry Carey, in 1738, brought out an opera on the subject, entitled\n\"The Dragon of Wantley,\" abounding in humour, and a fine burlesque on\nthe Italian operas of the period, then the rage of fashion. And in\n1873, Poynter exhibited at the Royal Academy a picture of \"More of More\nHall and the Dragon.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Miracles and Ghost of Watton.\n\n\nIn a sweetly sequestered spot, environed by patriarchal trees of\nluxuriant foliage, between the towns of Driffield and Beverley, nestles\na Tudoresque building, which goes by the name of Watton Abbey, although\nit never was an abbey, but a Gilbertine Priory. It is now a private\nresidence, and was occupied for many years as a school, the existing\nbuildings apparently having been erected since the dissolution, and\nthere are but few remains of the original convent, saving a portion of\nthe nunnery, now converted into stables, a hollow square indicating the\nsite of the kitchen and the moat which originally surrounded the entire\nenclosure. A couple of centuries ago there were extensive remains of\nthe old priory, but they were removed for the purpose of repairing\nBeverley Minster. Moreover, the abbey has a haunted room, which,\nhowever, has no connection with the monastic times, although the ghost\nthat haunts it is usually designated \"The Headless Nun of Watton,\" but\nbelongs to the civil war period of the seventeenth century. The fact\nis that story tellers of the legend confound two altogether different\nnarratives--the one of a trangressing nun of the twelfth century, and\nthe other of a murdered lady of the seventeenth, combining their two\nhistories into one story, as if their persons were identical.\n\nA nunnery was established here in a very early period of Anglo-Saxon\nChristianity, probably soon after its re-introduction into Northumbria\nby King Oswald, as we find St. John of Beverley performing a miracle\nthere, which would be about the year 720, after he had resigned his\nBishopric and retired to Beverley. It appears that he was an intimate\nfriend of the Lady Prioress--Heribury--and made frequent visits to\nWatton to administer spiritual advice and ghostly consolation to the\ninmates under her charge. On one occasion when he went thither, he\nfound the Prioress's daughter suffering great agony from a diseased and\nswollen arm, the result of unskilful bleeding, and was solicited to go\nto her chamber and give her his blessing, which might be the means of\nalleviating the pain. He inquired when she had been bled, and was told\non the fourth day of the moon, which he said was a very inauspicious\nday, quoting Archbishop Theodore as his authority, and he feared his\nprayers would be of no avail. Nevertheless he went to her room, prayed\nfor her restoration to health, gave her his blessing, and went down to\ndinner. They had, however, scarcely seated themselves when a servant\ncame in, stating that all her pain had gone, her swollen arm had been\nreduced to its natural size, and that she was perfectly restored to\nhealth, and was dressing to come down and dine with them.\n\nThe nunnery was destroyed, it is presumed, by the Danes at the same\ntime that the Monastery of Beverley perished at their hands, in the\nninth century, and it lay waste and desolate until the twelfth century,\nalthough we find from the Domesday survey that there were then a church\nand priest in the village.\n\nIn 1148-9, Eustace Fitz John, Lord of Knaresborough, and a favourite of\nKing Henry I., at the instance of Murdac, Archbishop of York, refounded\nthe convent, in atonement for certain crimes he had committed. It\nwas established for thirteen canons and thirty-six nuns of the new\nGilbertine order, who were to live in the same block of buildings,\nbut with a party wall for the separation of the sexes; the canons \"to\nserve the nuns perpetually in terrene as well as in divine matters.\" He\nendowed it with the Lordship of Watton, with all its appurtenances in\npure and perpetual alms for the salvation of his soul, and those of his\nwife, his father and mother, brothers and sisters, friends and servants.\n\nArchbishop Murdac was at the time resident at Beverley, the gates of\nYork having been shut against him; and it may be that the fact of his\npredecessor, St. John, the patron-saint of the town where he dwelt,\nhaving performed a great miracle there, was what influenced him in his\ndesire to see a resuscitation of the monastery. He was a remarkable\nman, and had led a somewhat adventurous life. Archbishop Thurstan was\nhis patron, and gave him some preferments in the church of York, which\nhe resigned at the pressing invitation of St. Bernard, founder of the\nCistercians, to become a monk at Clervaux. Soon after he was sent by\nhis superior to found a Cistercian house at Vauclair, of which he was\nappointed the first abbot, in 1131, where he remained until 1143,\nwhen, at the recommendation of St. Bernard, he was elected Abbot of\nFountains. Under his judicious and able government the abbey prospered\nand threw off not less than seven offshoots--those of Kirkstall, Lix,\nMeaux, Vaudy, and Woburn.\n\nOn the death of Archbishop Thurstan, King Stephen desired the canons\nto elect William Fitzherbert, his nephew and their treasurer, in his\nplace, which they were willing to do, but the Cistercians, headed\nby Murdac, suspecting that undue influence had been made use of,\nvehemently opposed his election, and Pope Eugenius, on the appeal of\nSt. Bernard, suspended Fitzherbert.\n\nFitzherbert, out of revenge, went with his friends to Fountains, broke\nopen the door, searched ineffectually for Murdac, then fired the abbey,\nand retired. This act caused a great sensation, and the Archbishop\nwas deprived in 1147. The same year an assembly met at Richmond, and\nelected Murdac as Archbishop, who immediately went to Rome and obtained\nhis pall from Pope Eugenius; but on his return found York barred\nagainst his entrance, upon which he retired to Beverley. Stephen, the\nKing, refused to recognise him, sequestering the stalls of York, and\nfining the town of Beverley for harbouring him. It was at this time\nthat he promoted the re-establishment of Watton, and placed within\nits walls a child of four years of age to be educated, with a view of\ntaking the veil.\n\nIn retaliation, he excommunicated Puisnet, Treasurer of York, and laid\nthe city under an interdict. Puisnet was afterwards elected Bishop of\nDurham, upon which Murdac excommunicated the Prior and Archdeacon, who\ncame to Beverley to implore pardon, and could only obtain absolution on\nacknowledging their fault and submitting to scourging at the entrance\nto Beverley Minster. He died at Beverley in the same year (1153), and\nwas buried in York Cathedral.\n\nElfleda, the child whom Murdac had placed in the convent, was a merry,\nvivacious little creature; and whilst but a child was a source of\namusement to the sisterhood, who, although prim and demure in bearing,\nand some of them sour-tempered and acid in their tempers, were wont to\nsmile at her youthful frolics and ringing laugh; but as she grew older,\nher outbursts of merriment, and the sallies of wit that began to\nanimate her conversation, were checked, as being inconsistent with the\ncharacter of a young lady who was now enrolled as novice, preparatory\nto taking the veil. As she advanced towards womanhood her form\ngradually developed into a most symmetrical figure; and her features\nbecame the perfection of beauty, set off with a transparent delicacy\nof complexion, such as would have rendered her a centre of attraction\neven among the beauties of a Royal Court. This excited the jealousy of\nthe sisters, who were chiefly elderly and middle-aged spinsters, whose\nhomely and somewhat coarse features had proved detrimental to their\nhopes of obtaining husbands. They began to treat her with scornful\nlooks, chilling neglect, and petty persecutions; but when she, later\non, evinced a manifest repugnance to convent life, ridiculed the ways\nof the holy sisters, and even satirised them, they charged her with\nentertaining rebellious and ungodly sentiments, and subjected her\nto penances and other modes of wholesome correction, such as they\nconsidered would subdue her worldly spirit.\n\nSprightly and light-hearted as she was, Elfleda was not happy, immured\nas she was within these detested walls, and condemned to assist in\nwearisome services, such as she thought might perhaps be congenial\nto the souls of her elder sisters, whose hopes of worldly happiness\nand conjugal endearment had been blighted, but which were altogether\nunsuited for one so beautiful (for she knew that she was fair, and was\nvain of her looks) and so cheerful-minded as herself; and she longed\nwith intense desire to make her escape, mingle with the outer world,\nand have free intercourse with the other sex.\n\nAccording to the charter of endowment, the lay brethren of the\nmonastery were entrusted with the management of the secular affairs of\nthe nunnery, which necessitated their admission within its portals on\ncertain occasions for conference with the prioress. On these occasions\nElfleda would cast furtive and very un-nunlike glances upon their\npersons. She was particularly attracted by one of them, a young man\nof prepossessing mien and seductive style of speech, and she felt her\nheart beat wildly whenever he came with the other visitors. He noticed\nher surreptitious glances, and saw that she was exceedingly beautiful,\nand his heart responded to the sentiment he felt that he had inspired\nin hers. They maintained this silent but eloquent language of love for\nsome time, and soon found means of having stolen interviews under the\ndarkness of night, when vows of everlasting love were interchanged, and\nled, eventually, to consequences which at the outset were not dreamt of\nby the erring pair.\n\nSuspicion having been excited by her altered form, she was summoned\nbefore her superiors on a charge of \"transgressing the conventual\nrules and violating one of the most stringent laws of monastic life,\"\nand as concealment was impossible, she boldly confessed her fault,\nadding that she had no vocation for a convent life, and desired to be\nbanished from the community. This request could not be listened to for\na moment. The culprit had brought a scandal and indelible stain upon\nthe fair fame of the house, which must, at any cost, be concealed from\nthe world; and her open avowal of her guilt raised in the breasts of\nthe pious sisterhood a perfect fury of indignation, and a determination\nto inflict immediate and condign punishment on her. It was variously\nsuggested that she should be burnt to death, that she should be walled\nup alive, that she should be flayed, that her flesh should be torn\nfrom her bones with red-hot pincers, that she should be roasted to\ndeath before a fire, etc.; but the more prudent and aged averted these\nextreme measures, and suggested some milder forms of punishment, which\nwere at once carried out. The miserable object of their vengeance was\nstripped of her clothing, stretched on the floor, and scourged with\nrods until the blood trickled down profusely from her lacerated back.\nShe was then cast into a noisome dungeon, without light, fettered by\niron chains to the floor, and supplied with only bread and water,\n\"which was administered with bitter taunts and reproaches.\"\n\nMeanwhile the young man, her paramour, had left the monastery, and as\nthe nuns were desirous of inflicting some terrible punishment upon him\nfor his horrible crime, they extorted from Elfleda, under promise that\nshe should be released and given up to him, the confession that he was\nstill in the neighbourhood in disguise, and that not knowing of the\ndiscovery that had been made, he would come to visit her, and make the\nusual signal of throwing a stone on the roof over her sleeping cell.\nThe Prioress made this known to the brethren of the monastery, and\narranged with them for his capture. The following night he came, looked\ncautiously round, and then threw the stone, when the monks rushed\nout of ambush, cudgelled him soundly, and then took him a prisoner\ninto the house. \"The younger part of the nuns, inflamed with a pious\nzeal, demanded the custody of the prisoner, on pretence of gaining\nfurther information. Their request was granted, and taking him to an\nunfrequented part of the convent, they committed on his person such\nbrutal atrocities as cannot be translated without polluting the page\non which they are written; and, to increase the horror, the lady was\nbrought forth to be witness of the abominable scene.\" Whilst lying in\nher dungeon, Elfleda became penitent, and conscious of having committed\na gross crime, and one night whilst sleeping in her fetters, Archbishop\nMurdac appeared to her and charged her with having cursed him. She\nreplied that she certainly had cursed him for having placed her in so\nuncongenial a sphere. \"Rather curse yourself,\" said he, \"for having\ngiven way to temptation.\" \"So I do,\" she answered, \"and I regret having\nimputed the blame to you.\" He then exhorted her to repentance and the\ndaily repetition of certain psalms, and then vanished,--a vision which\nafforded her much consolation.\n\nThe holy sisters were now much troubled on the question of what should\nbe done with the infant which was expected daily, and preparations\nwere made for its reception; when Elfleda was again visited by the\nArchbishop, accompanied by two women who, \"with the holy aid of the\nArchbishop, safely delivered her of the infant, which they bore away\nin their arms, covered with a fair linen cloth.\" When the nuns came\nthe next morning they found her in perfect health and restored to her\nyouthful appearance, without any signs of the accouchement, and charged\nher with murdering the infant,--a very improbable idea, seeing that she\nwas still chained to the floor. She narrated what had occurred, but was\nnot believed. The next night all her fetters were miraculously removed,\nand when her cell was entered the following morning she was found\nstanding free, and the chains not to be found.\n\nThe Father Superior of the convent was then called in, and he invited\nAlured, Abbot of Rievaulx, to assist him in the investigation of the\ncase, who decided that it was a miraculous intervention, and the Abbot\ndeparted, saying, \"What God hath cleansed call not thou common or\nunclean, and whom He hath loosed thou mayest not bind.\"\n\nWhat afterwards became of Elfleda is not stated, but we may presume\nthat after these miraculous events she would be admitted as a thrice\nholy member of the sisterhood, despite her little peccadillo.\n\nAlured of Rievaulx, the monkish chronicler, narrates the substance of\nthe above circumstances, and vouches for their truth. \"Let no one,\"\nsays he, \"doubt the truth of this account, for I was an eye-witness\nto many of the facts, and the remainder were related to me by persons\nof such mature age and distinguished piety, that I cannot doubt the\naccuracy of the statement.\"\n\nThis is the story of the frail and unfortunate nun; the other, which is\nusually dovetailed on the former, is of much more recent date. In the\npresent house there is a chamber wainscoted throughout with panelled\noak, one of the panels forming a door, so accurately fitted that it\ncannot be distinguished from the other panels. It is opened by a secret\nspring, and communicates with a stone stair that goes down to the moat;\nit may be that the room was a hiding-place for the Jesuits or priests\nof the Catholic Church when they were so ruthlessly hunted down and\nbarbarously executed in the Elizabethan and Jacobean reigns. The room\nis reputed to be haunted by the ghost of a headless lady with an infant\nin her arms, who comes, or came thither formerly, to sleep nightly, the\nbed-clothes being found the following morning in a disordered state, as\nthey would be after a person had been sleeping in them. If by chance\nany person had daring enough to occupy the room, the ghost would come,\nminus the head, dressed in blood-stained garments, with her infant\nin her arms, and would stand motionless at the foot of the bed for a\nwhile, and then vanish. A visitor on one occasion, who knew nothing of\nthe legend, was put to sleep in the chamber, who in the morning stated\nthat his slumbers had been disturbed by a spectral visitant, in the\nform of a lady with bloody raiment and an infant, and that her features\nbore a strange resemblance to those of a lady whose portrait hung in\nthe room; from which it would appear that on that special occasion she\nhad donned her head.\n\nAccording to the legend, a lady of distinction who then occupied the\nhouse was a devoted Royalist in the great civil war which resulted in\nthe death of King Charles. It was after the battle of Marston Moor,\nwhich was a death-blow to the Royalists north of the Humber, and when\nthe Parliamentarians dominated the broad lands of Yorkshire, that a\nparty of fanatical Roundheads came into the neighbourhood of Watton,\n\"breathing out threatenings and slaughter\" against the \"malignants,\"\nand especially against such as still clung to the \"vile rags of the\nwhore of Babylon,\" vowing to put all such to the sword. The Lady of\nWatton, who was a devout Catholic, heard of this band of Puritan\nsoldiers, who were \"rampaging\" over the Wolds, and of the barbarous\nmurders of which they had been guilty. Her husband was away fighting\nin the ranks of the King down Oxford way, and she was left without\nany protector excepting a handful of servants, male and female, who\nwould be of no use against a band of armed soldiers, and it was with\ngreat fear and trembling that she heard of their arrival at Driffield,\nsome three or four miles distant, where they had been plundering\nand maltreating \"the Philistines;\" fearing more for her infant than\nherself, as she believed the prevalent exaggerated rumour, that it was\na favourite amusement with them to toss babies up in the air and catch\nthem on the points of their pikes.\n\nAt length news was brought that the marauders were on the march to\nWatton, for the purpose of plundering it, as the home of a malignant,\nand the lady, for better security, shut herself, with her child and\nher jewels, in the wainscoted room, hoping in case of extremity to\nescape by means of a secret stair, and in the meanwhile committed\nherself and child to the care of the Virgin Mother. It was not long ere\nthe band of soldiers arrived and hammered at the door, calling aloud\nfor admittance, but met with no response. They were about breaking\ndown the door, and went in search of implements for the purpose, when\nthey caught sight of a low archway opening upon the moat, which they\nguessed to be a side entrance to the house, and crossing the moat, they\nfound the stair, which they ascended and came to the panel, which they\nconcluded was a disguised door. A few blows sufficed to dash it open,\nand they came into the presence of the lady, who was prostrate before\na crucifix. Rising up, she demanded what they wanted, and wherefore\nthis rude intrusion. They replied that they had come to despoil the\n\"Egyptian\" who owned the mansion, and if he had been present, to smite\nhim to death as a worshipper of idols and an abomination in the eyes of\nGod.\n\nAn angry altercation ensued, the lady, who possessed a high spirit,\nmaking a free use of her tongue in upbraidings and reproaches for their\ndastardly conduct on the Wolds, of which she had heard, to which they\nlistened very impatiently, and replied in coarse language not fit for a\nlady's ears, at the same time demanding the plate and other valuables\nof the house. She scornfully refused to give them up, and told them\nthat if they wanted them they must find them for themselves, and at\nlength so provoked them by her taunts that they cried, \"Hew down with\nthe sword the woman of Belial and the spawn of the malignant,\" and\nsuiting the action to the word, they caught her child from her arms,\ndashed its brains out against the wall, and then cut her down and\n\"hewed\" off her head, after which they plundered the house and departed\nwith their spoil.\n\nIt must not be supposed that these ruffians were a fair specimen of the\nbrave, God-fearing men who fought under Fairfax, and put Newcastle\nand Rupert to flight at Marston Moor, who fought with the sword in\none hand and the Bible in the other, who laid the axe at the root of\nRoyal abitrary prerogative, and were the real authors of the civil and\nreligious liberty which we now enjoy. But, as in all times of civil\ncommotion, there were evil-minded wretches who, for purpose of plunder,\nassumed the garb and adopted the phraseology of the noble-minded\nsoldiers of Fairfax and Hampden, and the Ironsides of Cromwell,\nout-Puritaned them in their hypocritical cant, bringing disgrace and\nscandal upon the armies with which they associated themselves. And such\nwere the villains who despoiled Watton, and slew so barbarously the\npoor lady and her infant; and from that time the ghost of the lady has\nhaunted the room in which the deed was perpetrated.\n\nIn the year 1780, Mr. Bethell, the then occupier of the house, was\ngiving a dinner-party in the dining-room, which adjoined the haunted\napartment. When they were seated over their wine the host related the\nstory of the ghost, and had scarcely finished it when an unearthly\nsound issued from the floor beneath their feet. Consternation seized\non the party. They concluded that it was the ghost, and to their\nimagination the candles began to emit a blue, ghostly light. It seemed\nto be a confirmation of the truth of the story; but they summoned up\ncourage enough to make an examination, and although it was approaching\nthe \"witching hour of night,\" they sent for a carpenter, who took up\nsome planks of the floor, and found--not the ghost, but the nest of an\notter from the moat, who had made there a home for her progeny, whose\ncries had alarmed them; and thus was dissipated what might otherwise\nhave been deemed a veritable supernatural visitation.\n\n\n\n\nThe Murdered Hermit of Eskdale.\n\n\nSir Richard de Veron was a distinguished knight of the North Riding,\nwho held a considerable estate by knight's service of the De Brus\nfamily in Cleveland. He was one of the heroes of the Battle of the\nStandard, in 1138, who went forth at the behest of Archbishop Thurstan\nto oppose the invasion of David of Scotland, and who signally defeated\nthat monarch. A few years after, he joined the forces of the Empress\nMaud, whose pretensions to the throne of England he considered to\nbe more legitimate than those of Stephen, and fought on her side at\nLincoln, in 1141, when the King was defeated and taken prisoner,\ncontinuing to uphold her cause until she was compelled to retire from\nEngland. The war being thus brought to an end, and the adherents of\nthe Empress generally declining to take service under a King whom they\ndeemed a usurper, and by whom they were looked upon with suspicion,\nDe Veron sheathed his sword and retired to his family and home in\nCleveland. He had a wife, whom he dearly loved, and two children, a\nboy--his heir, and a sweet little daughter for whom he entertained\nthe most tender affection; indeed, although he delighted in the clash\nof arms and the exciting revelry of war, he was never so truly happy\nas when in the midst of his family, teaching his young son to ride,\npractice at the target, and follow his hounds in pursuit of the wild\nanimals of the chase; or listening to the prattle of his little\ndaughter, when taking lessons from her mother in reading, music, or\nembroidery work. Thus happily passed a few months after his return\nfrom his martial pursuits, when one morning, news was brought that a\ncase of plague had occurred in the village, causing, as it always did,\ngreat consternation not only amongst the villagers, but in the knight's\nmansion, which stood half a mile away from the village. It was hoped\nthat it might be an isolated case, and such rude remedial measures as\nwere then known were adopted to prevent the spread of the infection,\nbut within a week another case was reported, and another and another in\nrapid succession, after which it spread with fearful speed, until half\nthe population succumbed to it, and were hastily buried without the\nusual funeral rites. In a month the disease appeared to be dying out,\nthe deaths were fewer and fewer day by day, and it was fondly hoped\nthat the terrible infliction was passing away, but it was not until\nthree-fourths of the people had fallen victims to its pestilential fury.\n\nAlthough Sir Richard hesitated not to go down to the village and\nemploy himself in administering food, medicine, and consolation to\nthe afflicted, he took every known precaution against coming into too\nclose contact with the infected; he kept his family closely shut up at\nhome, and occupied a separate set of apartments himself, not allowing\nthem to come into his presence; but notwithstanding all his preventive\nmeasures he was at last stricken down. He gave positive orders that he\nshould be left alone, and if it was God's will that he should die, he\ndeclared his resolution that he would die alone, and with affectionate\nearnestness sent a message to his wife, entreating her to remain apart\nfrom him, and not imperil her dear life by coming to his bedside. But\nshe, true wife as she was, heeded not the risk to her own life, so long\nas she could afford comfort and spiritual consolation to him, in what\nmight very probably be his last few moments on earth, and regardless of\nthe injunction, hastened, on receiving the message, to the room where\nhe lay. He reproached her gently for exposing herself to the risk of\ninfection, but was met by assurances that it was not possible for her\nto remain away whilst he was lying there requiring careful tendence,\nwith all the servants standing aloof panic-stricken, or flying from the\nhouse. He implored her to retire, but she replied that she might or\nmight not take the infection; that was as God pleased, and if she did\nshe might or might not fall a victim, but most assuredly if she left\nhim alone and shut herself up away from him she would die of anxiety,\nor, in case of his death, of a broken heart. Finding remonstrance\nuseless, he was fain to submit to her nursing, and happily during the\nnight the malady passed its crisis, his strong, healthy constitution\nenabling him to battle successfully with the disease, and he gradually\nbecame convalescent.\n\nHappiness again seemed to be dawning over the household, but it was not\ndestined to last long. The faithful wife, who had watched so tenderly\nover his sick bed, regardless of the risk she ran, maintained her\nhealth so long as her services were needed, but in her ministrations\nshe had imbibed the seed of the fatal malady, and now, when her husband\nwas restored to health, the terrible plague spot made its appearance,\nand so rapidly did the disease develop itself that, within twenty-four\nhours, she fell a victim to its remorseless energy. It was a fearful\nblow to Sir Richard, but this was not all the suffering he had to\nundergo. Scarcely had he returned from the obsequies of his wife, when\nhis two children caught the infection, and in another four-and-twenty\nhours they were both carried off, leaving him bereft of all the\nbest-beloved of his soul, and sunk in the depths of desolation and\ndespair.\n\nFor some months he remained in his silent and cheerless home in\na state of profound apathy, taking no interest in the avocations\ndevolving on him as the lord of an extensive estate. It is true he\nbefriended, pecuniarily, the numerous widows and orphans left in the\nvillage by the ruthless pestilence that had swept over it, and he\ncontributed large sums of money to the Church for prayers and masses\nfor the souls of the departed, not only of his own family, but of his\nvassals and dependants. Nothing seemed capable of rousing him from the\ndespondency into which he had fallen; the sports of the field were\naltogether neglected; the cheerful companionship of friends presented\nno attractions for him, and he sat at home hour after hour through the\nlive-long day, plunged in moody melancholy and repining meditation on\nhis irreparable loss, and the utter extinction of all that was worth\nliving for. And thus passed week after week and month after month,\nTime, the great mollifier of grief, seeming to impart no balm to his\nsorrow-stricken soul.\n\nThe only person whom he admitted as a visitor, besides those who\ncame on imperative business matters, was Father Anselm, a pious and\ndevout man, the priest of the village church. It was in his company\nonly, and in listening to his spiritual converse, that he felt any\nrelief from the grief that oppressed him, and gradually, after many\ninterviews, he began to look upon his affliction as a providential\ndispensation, intended for some wise purpose. Gradually also he became\nmore weaned from earthly and secular things, and his soul to become\nmore spiritualised, and he began to experience a feeling of attraction\nto the cloister. One day he mentioned this to his spiritual adviser,\nand Father Anselm, rejoicing thereat, warmly applauded the feeling,\nurging that such self-devotion would be most acceptable to God, and\nthat it was only in religious meditation and prayer that he would be\nvouchsafed that true consolation which religion alone could give. The\nholy father perhaps was not altogether single-minded in thus fostering\nthe idea of assuming the cowl, for he was a true Churchman, considering\nthat the promotion of the temporal aggrandisement of the Church was an\nessential part of the duty of a Christian, a sentiment then universally\nprevalent, and not unusual now. He knew that Sir Richard was the owner\nof broad acres, and that now he had no heir to inherit them, and\nhe often made delicate and incidental allusions to the fact, which\nseemed to produce an impression on the mind of the knight. At last an\nopportunity offered itself of speaking out more openly. With a profound\nsigh, Sir Richard one day said, when the conversation had turned upon\nhis estates and possessions, \"Alas! why should I trouble or concern\nmyself about these lands and the improvements that might be made on\nthem? I shall never more be able to derive pleasure from the possession\nof them, and I have no heir to bequeath them to. What is the good of\nriches if they do not afford happiness? A crust and water from the\nwayside brook with happiness is better than untold wealth accompanied\nwith sorrow and anguish of heart.\"\n\nFather Anselm saw his opportunity, and pertinently asked, \"Since you\nhave no heir, why not make the holy Church of Christ your heir? By\ndoing so you would garner up for yourself riches in heaven--an eternity\nof inconceivable happiness compared with which in duration your present\nsuffering is but as the pang of a moment.\"\n\nSir Richard sat musing for the space of a quarter of an hour, and then\nsaid, \"Holy Father, what you say seems good, fitting, and worthy of\nconsideration. Give me a week to think it over, and at the expiration\nof that period I will commune with you further on the subject,\" and\nFather Anselm took his departure.\n\nAt the week's end, when they met again, Sir Richard opened the subject\nby saying, \"Venerable Father, I have since our last meeting given\ndeep consideration to your counsels, and have come to the resolution\nof doing as you advise me. I have determined on assuming the monkish\nhabit; spending the remainder of my life in pious communion with some\nholy brotherhood; and on resigning my possessions into the hands of the\nChurch of God.\"\n\n\"It is good,\" replied Father Anselm. \"Have you thought of any specific\nhouse on which to bestow your donation?\"\n\n\"It occurred to me,\" continued Sir Richard, \"to become a canon of the\nAugustinian house recently founded by my feudal Lord, Robert de Brus,\nat Guisborough, and to add my lands to its further endowment.\"\n\n\"Permit me to counsel you otherwise,\" said the Father, \"Guisborough,\nas an Augustinian house, is not so strict in its discipline as other\nmonastic houses, and is already very fairly endowed. But there is\nanother, of the Benedictine order, where you would have an opportunity\nof cultivating a more strictly religious and less secular frame of\nmind--I mean Whitby, a holy spot, once sanctified by the presence of\nthe blessed St. Hilda. It was founded by King Oswy in 687, was laid in\nruins by the sacrilegious Danes in 867, and so remained for another\ncouple of hundred years, when God moved the heart of Will de Percy to\nrefound it as a Priory. Within the last few years it has again been\nconverted into an Abbey; but it lacks endowment for the due maintenance\nof its superior dignity. Let me advise you, therefore, to cast in your\nlot with these Benedictines, and win the approval of God by bestowing\nyour wealth in his service, where it is much needed.\"\n\nSir Richard assented to this suggestion, caused a deed of gift to be\ndrawn, in which he conveyed his lands to the Abbot and convent of\nWhitby, and entered the house as a novice; and in due time, at the\nexpiration of his novitiate, was admitted as a monk.\n\nBrother Jerome (to use his monastic appellation) soon attracted notice\nby the fervour of his piety, his asceticism, and a strict and sincere\nobservance of the conventual rules; as well as by his humility and\nobedience to the ordinances of his superiors. It chanced that after he\nhad been in the house a few years, the Prior, whose position was that\nof sub-Abbot in the house, sickened and died; and, at a meeting of the\nchapter to elect his successor, Brother Jerome was suggested as the\nmost fitting, by his manifest piety and abilities, for the office; but\nhe resolutely declined taking it upon himself, preferring, as he said,\nto be rather a hewer of wood or drawer of water--the servant of the\nbrotherhood--than to hold any superior office.\n\nIn the course of his meditations he was wont to cast a retrospective\nglance on his past life, and to grieve over his career as a soldier\nand a shedder of blood; especially did he mourn over the excesses of\nbarbarous cruelty into which he had been drawn in emulation of the\nferocity of his fellow-soldiers, when marching under the banner of\nthe Empress, remembering with tears of bitter remorse, the burning\nvillages, the homeless people, the corpse-strewn fields, and the widows\nand orphans they left in their rear. The more he thought of these\npast phases of his life, the more intense became his self-reproaches\nand the compunction excited by a sense of guilt and sin. He sought by\nmortification and maceration of the flesh to make atonement for these\nblood-stained deeds, but despite these self-inflicted punishments, he\nwas not able to find rest for his soul. For ever, when prostrate in\nprayer, would they rise up before him, and the enemy of mankind would\nwhisper in his ear, \"Thou fool! what is the good of praying and fasting\nand weeping? Thy sins are too heinous for pardon; thou hast given\nup thy possessions to secure a heritage in heaven, but thy guilt is\nso damning that thou wilt assuredly find its gate shut against thee.\nInstead of leading a miserable and wretched life here in the cloister,\nreturn to the world and enjoy life while it lasts, for in either case\nthere is nothing to hope for in the future.\"\n\nJerome took counsel of the Abbot, an old, wise, and experienced\nChristian, who at once detected the cloven hoof in the temptation, and\nwas successful in convincing the tempted one of the fact, advising him\nto go on in the course he was pursuing, assuring him that there was\nmercy for the vilest of sinners if penitent, which afforded him great\nconsolation.\n\nNevertheless the remorse-stricken sinner considered that his\nmisdeeds had been such that he could scarcely do sufficient in the\nway of mortification to obliterate the guilt of the past, and he\ndetermined upon withdrawing himself entirely from communion with his\nfellow-creatures, even from the Holy Brotherhood of Whitby, and devote\nthe remainder of his life to meditation and prayer altogether apart\nfrom the world.\n\nConnected with the Abbey there was, in a solitary place of the forest\nwhich fringed the banks of the Esk, a chapel where the monks were wont\nto retire at certain seasons for the purpose of devotion, away from the\nbustle and distraction inevitable in a large community; and in close\nproximity to this chapel, Jerome built for himself a wooden hut in\nwhich to pass his remaining years as a hermit, secluded from society,\nliving on wild fruit and roots, quenching his thirst from the streamlet\nwhich trickled past, and spending his days and nights in prayer,\nflagellation, and abstinence.\n\nResident in the neighbourhood of Whitby were two landed\nproprietors--Ralph de Perci, Lord of Sneton, and William de Brus,\nLord of Ugglebarnby, who were great lovers of hunting and other field\nsports, and near them lived one Allatson, a gentleman and freeholder.\nThe three were boon companions, and constantly meeting in the pursuance\nof country sports, and at each other's houses for the purpose of\ncarousing together. One night when they were thus assembled together\nthey arranged to go boar-hunting on the following day, which was\nthe 16th of October, 5th Henry II., in the forest of Eskdale; and\nsoon after dinner they met, attired in their hunting garbs, with\nboar-staves in their hands, and accompanied by a pack of boar-hounds,\nyelping and barking, and as eager for the sport as their masters.\n\nA boar was soon started, which plunged into the recesses of the forest,\nfollowed by the hounds in full cry, and by the hunters, shouting to\nencourage them. Onward they rushed, through brake and briar, the huge\nanimal clearing a pathway through the tangled underwood, which enabled\nhis pursuers to follow without much impediment. Onward they went in\nhot speed, the hounds sometimes overtaking the boar, and tearing him\nwith their fangs, and the hunters beating him with their staves,\nmaddening him with rage, and causing him to turn upon his pursuers,\nand rend the dogs with his fangs, as he would also the hunters, could\nhe have escaped the environment of the dogs; and then he would dash\nonward again, evidently becoming more and more exhausted from wounds\nand bruises and loss of blood, until at length they came in sight\nof the chapel and hermitage; from which point we cannot do better\nthan continue the narrative in the words of Burton, as given in his\n\"Monasticon Ebor.\"\n\n\"The boar,\" says he, \"being very sore and very hotly pursued, and dead\nrun, took in at the chapel door and there died, whereof the hermit\nshut the hounds out of the chapel and kept himself within at his\nmeditations, the hounds standing at bay without.\n\n\"The gentlemen called to the hermit (Brother Jerome), who opened the\ndoor. They found the boar dead, for which they, in very great fury\n(because their hounds were put from their game) did, most violently and\ncruelly, run at the hermit with their boar staves, whereby he died soon\nafter.\"\n\nFearful of the consequences of their crime, they fled to Scarborough,\nand took sanctuary in the church; but the Abbot of Whitby, who was a\nfriend of the King, was authorised to take them out, \"whereby they came\nin danger of the law, and not to be privileged, but likely to have the\nseverity of the law, which was death.\"\n\nThe hermit, who had been brought to Whitby Abbey, lay at the point of\ndeath when the prisoners were brought thither; and hearing of their\narrival, he besought the Abbot that they might be brought into his\npresence; and when they made their appearance said to them, \"I am sure\nto die of these wounds you gave me.\" \"Aye,\" quoth the Abbot, \"and they\nshall surely die for the same.\" \"Not so,\" continued the dying man, \"for\nI will freely forgive them my death if they will be contented to be\nenjoined this penance for the safeguard of their souls.\" \"Enjoin what\npenance you will,\" replied the culprits, \"so that you save our lives.\"\nThen Brother Jerome explained the nature of the penance:--\"You and\nyours shall hold your lands of the Abbot of Whitby and his successors\nin this manner. That upon Ascension Eve, you, or some of you, shall\ncome to the woods of Strayheads, which is in Eskdale, the same day at\nsunrising, and there shall the abbot's officer blow his horn, to the\nintent that you may know how to find him; and he shall deliver unto\nyou, William de Brus, ten stakes, eleven strutstowers, and eleven\nyethers, to be cut by you, or some of you, with a knife of one penny\nprice; and you, Ralph de Perci, shall take twenty and one of each sort,\nto be cut in the same manner; and you, Allatson, shall take nine of\neach sort to be cut as aforesaid, and to be taken on your backs and\ncarried to the town of Whitby, and to be there before nine of the clock\nthe same day before mentioned. If at the same hour of nine of the\nclock it be full sea, your labour or service shall cease; but if it\nbe not full sea, each of you shall set your stakes at the brim and so\nyether them, on each side of your yethers, and so stake on each side\nwith your strowers, that they may stand three tides, without removing\nby the force thereof. Each of you shall make and execute the said\nservice at that very hour, every year, except it shall be full sea at\nthat hour; but when it shall so fall out, this service shall cease....\nYou shall faithfully do this, in remembrance that you did most cruelly\nslay me; and that you may the better call to God for mercy, repent\nunfeignedly for your sins, and do good works. The officer of Eskdale\nside shall blow--'Out on you! out on you! out on you!' for this heinous\ncrime. If you, or your successors, shall refuse this service, so long\nas it shall not be full sea, at the aforesaid hour, you, or yours,\nshall forfeit your lands to the Abbot of Whitby, or his successors.\nThis I entreat, and earnestly beg that you may have lives and goods\npreserved for this service; and I request of you to promise, by your\nparts in Heaven, that it shall be done by you and your successors as\nit is aforesaid requested, and I will confirm it by the faith of an\nhonest man.\" Then the hermit said, \"My soul longeth for the Lord; and\nI do freely forgive these men my death, as Christ forgave the thief\nupon the cross,\" and in the presence of the Abbot and the rest, he\nsaid, moreover, these words, \"In manas tuas, domine, commendo spiritum,\nmeum, avinculis enim mortis redemisti me Domine veritatis. Amen.\" So\nhe yielded up the ghost the 8th day of December, A.D. 1160, upon whose\nsoul God have mercy. Amen.\n\nIn 1753, the service was rendered by the last of the Allatsons, the\nLords of Sneton and Ugglebarnby having, it is supposed, bought off\ntheir share of the penance. He held a piece of land, of \u00a310 a year, at\nFylingdales, for which he brought five stakes, eight yethers, and six\nstrutstowers, and whilst Mr. Cholmley's bailiff, on an antique bugle\nhorn, blew \"out on you,\" he made a slight edge of them a little way\ninto the shallow of the river.\n\nBurton, writing in 1757, adds, \"This little farm is now out of the\nAllatson family, but the present owner performed the service last\nAscension Eve, A.D. 1756.\"\n\nThe horn garth or yether hedge, as the fence was called, was\nconstructed yearly on the east side of the Esk for the purpose of\nkeeping cattle from the landing places.\n\nCharlton, in his history of Whitby, discredits this tradition, saying\nthat there were no such persons as those mentioned, and no chapel,\nonly a hermitage in the forest; that the making of the horn garth is\nof much older date than that indicated, and that there is no record in\nthe annals of the abbey of its ever having been made by way of penance;\nconcluding that it is altogether a monkish invention.\n\n\n\n\nThe Calverley Ghost.\n\n\nA little northward of the road from Bradford to Leeds, four miles\ndistant from the former and seven from the latter, lies the village\nof Calverley, the seat of a knightly family of that name for some\n600 years. They occupied a stately mansion, which was converted into\nworkmen's tenements early in the present century, and the chapel\ntransformed into a wheelwright's shop.\n\nNear by is a lane, a weird and lonesome road a couple of centuries ago,\novershadowed as it was by trees, which cast a ghostly gloom over it\nafter the setting of the sun. It was not much frequented excepting in\nbroad daylight, and even then only by the bolder and more stout-hearted\nof the village rustics, whilst the majority would as soon have dared\nto sleep in the charnel-house under the church as have passed down it\nby night, or even in the gloaming. Instances were known of strangers\nhaving unwittingly gone through it, all of whom, however, came forth\nwith trembling limbs and scared faces, their hair erect on their\nheads, and the perspiration streaming down from their foreheads.\nWhen questioned as to what they had seen, the reply was always the\nsame, a cloudlike apparition, thin, transparent, and unsubstantial,\nbearing the semblance of a human figure, with no seeming clothing, but\nsimply a misty, impalpable shape; the features frenzied with rage and\nmadness, and in the right hand the appearance of a bloody dagger. The\napparition, they averred, seemed to consolidate into form out of a\nmist which environed them soon after entering the lane, and continued\nto accompany them, but without sound, sign, or motion, save that of\ngliding along, accommodating itself to the pace of the terrified\npassenger, which was usually that of a full run, until the other end of\nthe lane was reached, when it melted again into a mere shapeless mass\nof vapour.\n\nThe apparition was that of the disquieted soul of a certain Walter\nCalverley, which was denied the calm repose of death, and condemned\nto flit about this lane, as a penance for a great and unnatural crime\nof which he had been guilty. Various attempts were made to exorcise\nthe restless spirit, but all were ineffectual until some very potent\nspiritual agencies were employed, which were successful in \"laying\nthe ghost,\" but only for a time, as they operate only so long as a\ncertain holly tree, planted by the hand of the delinquent, continues to\nflourish, when that decays the ghost may again be looked for.\n\nThe Calverleys (originally Scott) were a family of distinction in\nYorkshire from the time of Henry I. to the period of the great Civil\nWar, intermarrying with some of the best families, and producing a\nsuccession of notable men.\n\nJohn Scott was steward to Maud, daughter of Malcolm Canmore, King of\nScotland, and niece of Edgar the Atheling, the last scion of the Saxon\nrace of English Kings; he accompanied her to England on the occasion\nof her alliance with King Henry I., and married Larderina, daughter of\nAlphonsus Gospatrick, Lord of Calverley and other Yorkshire manors,\nwho was descended from Gospatrick, Earl of Northumbria, who so stoutly\nsupported the claims of Edgar the Atheling to the crown of England in\nopposition to that of the usurping conqueror, William the Norman. By\nthis marriage, John Scott became _j.u._ Lord of Calverley.\n\nWilliam, his grandson, gave the vicarage of Calverley to the chantry of\nthe Blessed Virgin, York Cathedral, _temp._ Henry III.\n\nJohn, his descendant, in the fourteenth century, assumed the name of de\nCalverley in lieu of Scott.\n\nSir John, Knight, his son, had issue three sons and a daughter, Isabel,\nwho became Prioress of Esholt.\n\nJohn, his son, was one of the squires to Anne, Queen of Richard II. He\nfought in the French wars, was captured there, and beheaded for some\n\"horrible crime, the particulars of which are not known,\" and dying\n_c\u00e6l_, was succeeded by his brother, Walter, whose second son, Sir\nWalter, was instrumental in the rebuilding of the church of Calverley,\nand caused his arms--six owls--to be carved on the woodwork.\n\nSir John, Knight, his son, was created a Knight-Banneret, and slain at\nShrewsbury, 1403, fighting under the banner of Henry IV. against the\nPercies. Dying _s.p._, his brother Walter succeeded, whose second son,\nThomas, was ancestor, by his wife, Agnes Scargill, of the Calverleys\nof Morley and of county Cumberland.\n\nSir William, his grandson, was created a Knight-Banneret for valour in\nthe Scottish wars, by the Earl of Surrey; his grandson, Sir William\nKnight, was Sheriff of Yorkshire, and died 1571; Thomas, his second\nson, was ancestor of the Calverleys of county Durham. Sir Walter, his\nson, had issue three sons, of whom Edmund, the third, was ancestor of\nthe Calverleys of counties Sussex and Surrey.\n\nWilliam, the eldest son of Sir Walter, whose portrait was exhibited\nat York in 1868, married Catherine, daughter of Sir John Thornholm,\nKnight, of Haysthorpe, near Bridlington. This lady was a devoted\nCatholic, and suffered much persecution for adhering to her faith and\ngiving refuge to proscribed priests, the estates being sequestered and\nsome manors sold to pay the fine for recusancy. They had issue Walter,\nthe subject of this tradition.\n\nWalter Calverley was born in the reign of Elizabeth, and in his youth\nwitnessed the relentless persecutions which his family, being adherents\nof the old faith, had to endure from the ascendant Protestantism, which\nheld the reins of government. Those of the reformed religion were wont\nto style Mary the \"Bloody Queen,\" for the number of executions and\nbarbarities which, in the name of religion, stained the annals of her\nreign; but it was a notable instance of the pot-and-kettle style of\nvituperation, as the burning and hanging and quartering and pressing\nto death of Jesuits and seminary priests, and of lay men and women who\nafforded them refuge, went on as merrily during the reigns of her two\nfollowing successors, as did the roasting of heretics at Smithfield and\nelsewhere under Bonner and Gardiner. He was witness, when a boy, of the\nbarbarous treatment to which his mother was subjected for worshipping\nGod according to the dictates of her conscience and for daring to\nshelter priests of her persuasion.\n\nWalter was a lad of strong passions and vehement spirit, and the sight\nof the sufferings endured by the friends and co-religionists of his\nfamily drove him almost to madness. He would stamp his foot, clench\nhis fist, and vow vengeance upon the perpetrators, and it is highly\nprobable that he consorted and plotted with Guy Fawkes and others\nof the gunpowder conspirators at Scotton, near Knaresborough, and\nmight have had a hand in the great plot itself, which culminated and\ncollapsed in the same year that he committed the crime which cost him\nhis life.\n\nHe married Philippa, daughter of the Hon. Henry Brooke, fifth son of\nGeorge, fourth Baron Cobham, and sister of John, first Baron of the\nsecond creation, and by her had issue three sons, the third of whom,\nHenry, succeeded to the estates, whose son, Sir Walter, was a great\nsufferer in person and estate for his loyalty during the Civil War,\nand who was father of Sir Walter, who was created a baronet by Queen\nAnne in 1711, the title becoming extinct in 1777, on the death, without\nsurviving issue, of his son, Sir Walter Calverley-Blackett.\n\nFor a few years the newly-married couple lived in tolerable harmony\nand happiness, such as falls to the lot of most married people. They\nlooked forward to giving an heir to the family estates who should\nperpetuate the name in lineal descent; but the months and years passed\nby, and they began to experience the truth that \"hope deferred maketh\nthe heart sick,\" as no heir made his appearance, which was an especial\ndisappointment to the Lord of the Calverley domain, and gave rise to\nthe idea that he had married one who was barren, and incapable of\ngiving him an heir. Brooding over this impediment to his hopes, he\ngrew moody and discontented; treated his wife not only with neglect,\nbut upbraided her with opprobrious epithets, treated her with cold and\ncruel disfavour, and in his occasional violent outbursts of passion\nwould wish her dead, that he might marry again to a more fruitful wife.\nMoreover he gave way to over-indulgence in deep potations of ale, sack,\nand \"distilled waters,\" which added fire and force to his naturally\nfierce temperament, and rendered him almost maniacal in his acts. He\nwas profuse in his hospitality to his neighbours, frequently giving\ndinner parties to his roystering friends, with whom he would sit until\nlate in the night, or rather until early in the morning carousing over\ntheir cups.\n\nAmongst the friends who thus visited him was a certain country squire\nof the name of Leventhorpe, a young fellow of handsome figure and\ninsinuating address, who would drink his bottle with the veriest\ntoper, and yet would conduct himself in the company of ladies with the\nutmost decorum and most fascinating demeanour, would converse with\nthem on flowers and birds and tapestry work, and quote with admirable\naccentuation and feeling passages from the writings of the popular\npoets, or recite with pathos and humour the novelettes of the Italian\nromancists, which then were the delight of every lady's boudoir. He\nwas introduced by Calverley to his wife, and she being naturally of a\nlively, vivacious disposition, and, like ladies of the present age,\na passionate admirer of works of fiction and imagination, she took\ngreat pleasure in his society, as, indeed, he did in hers, and he was\nconsequently a constant visitor at Calverley Hall, whether invited or\nnot, and whether the lady's husband was at home or not; but always\nwas he gladly welcome, and in pure innocence and without any idea\nof impropriety, by the lady. On his side, too, he went to the house\nas a man might do to that of a sister, without any sentiment save\nthat of friendship, or, at the utmost, a feeling of platonic love.\nNot so, however, the lady's husband. He began to feel annoyed and\ndisquieted at witnessing their growing intimacy, but hitherto saw no\nreason to doubt the fidelity of his wife. Some twelve months after\nthe introduction of Leventhorpe to the Hall, symptoms became evident\nof the probable birth of a child, and Calverley at first hailed the\nprospect with satisfaction, praying and hoping that it might prove to\nbe the long-wished-for son and heir. In due course the child was born,\nand of the desired sex, and great were the rejoicings and splendid the\nbanqueting at the christening. The next year a second son made his\nappearance, and then dark thoughts and suspicions began to flit across\nCalverley's mind. He considered it strange that no child should have\nbeen born during the early years of his marriage, but that immediately\nafter Leventhorpe's introduction to the house his wife began to prove\nfruitful, and had borne two children, with the prospect of a third.\nHe brooded over these dark thoughts by night and day until they\nripened into positive jealousy and the belief that the children were\nLeventhorpe's, and not his own.\n\nInfluenced by these sentiments, he drank still more deeply, and\nwas frequently subjected to _delirium tremens_ and maniacal fits\nof passion, which rendered him the terror of all by whom he was\nsurrounded. He could not openly accuse Leventhorpe of a breach of the\nseventh commandment, of which he believed him guilty, as he had no\nbasis of fact upon which to ground the charge; but he found means\nto quarrel with him on some frivolous point, and made use of such\nexpressions of vituperation as he thought would impel him to demand\nsatisfaction at the sword's point; but Leventhorpe was a quiet,\npeaceable man, who swallowed the affront, attributing it to the\nderanged state of his friend's mind, induced by too free application to\nthe bottle; and he simply abstained from visiting the house.\n\n\"He is a coward as well as a knave,\" said Calverley to himself. \"No\ngentleman would listen to such language as I have used and submit to it\npatiently like a beaten cur, without resenting it with his sword, and\nthis circumstance proves his guilt, and the certainty of my suspicions;\nbut I will be amply revenged on both him and his paramour and their\nprogeny;\" and he drank and drank day after day, and more and more\ndeeply, until he at length brought himself to a state fitting him for a\nmadhouse and personal restraint. Many a time he sought for Leventhorpe,\nwith the hope of provoking him to fight, but was not able to accomplish\nhis purpose, as circumstances had called Leventhorpe to London, where\nhe remained some months.\n\nIn the meantime the third child was born, and as the mother's health\nwas delicate, it was sent out to nurse at a farm-house some two or\nthree miles distant, and it was then that Calverley charged his wife,\nto her face, with adultery, adding that he felt positively assured\nthat the children were Leventhorpe's. She indignantly repelled the\ncharge, assuring him, with an appeal to the Virgin Mary as to the\ntruth of what she was saying, that the children were his and nobody\nelse's; but he would not listen to her denials--called her tears,\nwhich were flowing profusely, the hypocritical tears of a strumpet,\nand cursed and swore at her, threatening a dire vengeance on her and\nher seducer, and finally left her in a fit of hysterics in the hands\nof her women, who had rushed in on hearing her screams. He then went\ndownstairs to his dining room and sat down to dinner, but could not\neat much, each mouthful as he swallowed it seeming as if it would\nchoke him. \"Take these things away,\" he exclaimed in a furious tone\nto his servants, \"and bring me sack, and plenty of it.\" The terrified\nmenials saw that he was in one of his maniacal moods, and knew that\nit would be aggravated by drinking, but dared not disobey him. The\nsack was placed on the table, and he dismissed the attendants with a\ncurse. Flagon after flagon he poured out and drank in rapid succession,\nwhich soon produced its natural effect. \"Ah, demon!\" said he, \"have\nyou come again to torment me? Why sit you there, opposite me, grinning\nand gesticulating? You are an ugly devil, sure enough, with your fiery\neyes, your pointed horns, and your barbed tail. You tell me that it\nwere but just to murder my wife, Leventhorpe, and their brats, and I\ndon't know but what the advice is good. Aye, twirl your tail as a dog\ndoes when he is pleased; you think you have got another recruit for\nyour nether kingdom, and you are right. I live here a hell upon earth,\nand I do not see that I shall be much the worse off with you below;\nbesides I shall have the satisfaction of vengeance, and that will repay\nme amply for any after-death punishment. Aye, grin on, but leave me now\nto finish this bottle in quietness, for I cannot drink with comfort\nwhilst you are grimacing and jibing at me there.\" He spoke this in a\nloud tone of voice, to which the scared servants were listening at the\ndoor, after which he continued to drain goblet after goblet, giving\nforth utterances more and more incoherent, until at length he fell\nfrom his chair with a heavy thump on the floor. Hearing this, the\nservants entered, and found him, as they had often found him before, in\na state of senseless intoxication, and carried him up to bed.\n\nHaving slept off his debauch, he awoke late the following morning with\na raging thirst, which he endeavoured to assuage by deep draughts of\nale. Breakfast he could eat none, but continued drinking until his\nfamiliar demon again made his appearance, and seemed to incite him\nto the fulfilment of his vow of revenge. Leventhorpe was out of his\nreach, but the other destined victims were at hand, and what more\nfitting time than the present for the execution of his purpose? He\nselected a dagger from his store of weapons, and carefully sharpened\nit to a fine point; then gave directions to have his horse saddled\nand brought to the door of the hall to await his pleasure. As he had\nthree or four men-servants, who might hinder him in his intent, he sent\nthem on several errands about the estate, and when they had departed,\nleaving only the female domestics in the house, he went, dagger in\nhand, into the hall, where he found his eldest son playing. Seizing\nhim by the hair of his head, he stabbed him in three or four places,\nand, taking him in his arms, carried him bleeding to his mother's\napartment. \"There,\" said he, throwing the body down, \"is one of the\nfruits of your illicit intercourse, and the others must share the same\nfate.\" So saying, he laid hold of his second son, who was in the room,\nand stabbed him to the heart. The mother, shrieking with terror and\nagony, rushed forward to save the child, but was too late, and herself\nreceived three or four blows from the dagger, and fell senseless to the\nfloor, but more from horror and fright than from her wounds, which were\nbut slight, thanks to a steel stomacher which she wore. Imagining that\nhe had killed her as well as the children, he mounted his horse and\nrode towards the village, where his youngest child was at nurse, with\nthe intention of killing it also, but on the road he was thrown from\nhis horse, and before he could re-mount was secured by his servants,\nwho had gone in pursuit of him.\n\nHe was taken before the nearest magistrate--Sir John Bland, of\nKippax--and in the course of his examination stated that he had\nmeditated the deed for four years, and that he was fully convinced that\nthe children were not his. He was committed to York Castle and brought\nto trial, but refusing to plead, was subjected to _peine forte et\ndure_. He was taken to the press-yard, stripped to his shirt, and laid\non a board with a stone under his back; his arms were stretched out and\nsecured by cords; another board was placed over his body, upon which\nwere laid heavy weights one by one, he being asked in the intervals if\nhe still refused. He bore the agony with firmness and endurance, even\nwhen the great pressure broke his ribs and caused them to protrude from\nthe sides. As weight after weight was added, nothing could be extorted\nfrom him save groans caused by the intensity of the pain, which at\nlength ceased and the weights were removed, revealing a mere mass of\ncrushed bloody flesh and mangled bones.\n\nThe two children died, and the third lived to succeed to the estates.\nThe mother also recovered, and married for her second husband Sir\nThomas Burton, Knight.\n\n\"Two Most Unnatural and Bloodie Murthers, by Master Calverley, a\nYorkshire gentleman, upon his wife and two children, 1605.\" Edited by\nJ. Payne Collier, 1863.\n\n\"A Yorkshire Tragedy, not so new as lamentable, by Mr. Shakespeare;\nacted at the Globe, 1608. London 1619. With a portrait of the brat at\nnurse.\" Attributed to Shakespeare (without proof) by Stevens and others.\n\n\"The Fatal Extravagance. By Joseph Mitchell, 1720.\" A play based on the\nsame subject, and performed at the Lincoln's Inn Theatre.\n\nThe incident is also introduced by Harrison Ainsworth in his romance of\n\"Rookwood.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe Bewitched House of Wakefield.\n\n\nIn the earlier half of the seventeenth century, and during the\nCommonwealth, there dwelt in a mud-walled and thatched cottage, in\nthe environs of Wakefield, a \"wise woman,\" as she was styled, named\nJennet Benton, with her son, George Benton. He had been a soldier in\nthe Parliamentarian army, but, since its disbandment, had loafed about\nWakefield without any ostensible occupation, living, as it appeared,\non his mother's earnings in her profession. As a \"wise woman,\" she\nwas resorted to by great numbers of people--by persons who had lost\nproperty, to gain a clue to the discovery of the pilferers--by men\nto learn the most propitious times for harvesting, sheepshearing,\netc.--by matrons to obtain charms for winning back their dissipated\nor unfaithful husbands to domestic life, as it existed the first few\nmonths after marriage--and by young men and maidens for consultation\nwith her on matters of love; and, as no advice was given without its\nequivalent in the coin of the realm, she made a very fair living, and\nwas enabled to maintain her son in idleness, who was wont to spend a\ngreat part of his time in pot houses, with other quondam troopers,\ntheir chief topics of discourse being disputed points of controversy\nbetween the Independents and Presbyterians, and revilings of the\nPopish whore of Babylon and her progeny, the Church of England.\nAlthough not imbued with much of the spirit of piety, Benton, in his\ncampaigning career, had imbibed much of the fanaticism, superstition,\nand phraseology of the lower class of the Puritans, such of them as\nassumed the hypocritical garb of Puritanism to curry favour with their\nsuperiors, who were, as a rule, men of sincere piety, and, in so doing,\nsomewhat overdid the part by altogether out-Puritaning them in the\nextravagance of their outbursts of zeal, and in the almost blasphemous\nuse of Scriptural expressions. Such was Benton amongst his companions,\nand he passed for a fairly godly man. With his mother, however, he cast\noff all this assumption of religion and the use of Bible phrases, for\nshe was a woman who despised all religions alike, and sneered equally\nat the \"snivelling cant\" of the Puritans, the proud arrogance of the\nBishops of the Church, and the \"absurd drivellings\" of the Separatists;\nbut these ideas she was sufficiently wise to keep to herself, or\nconfide them to her son alone. She even went occasionally to church and\nconventicle, that she might stand well with her customers, who were of\nall sects. She had, besides, a voluble tongue, and was not deficient\nin intelligence, so that she was able to converse with all, each one\naccording to his doctrinal bias, so as to leave an impression that she\nwas not opposed but rather inclined to the particular theological dogma\nthen under discussion.\n\nThere was, however, a vague idea prevalent in Wakefield that Mother\nBenton was a witch, had intercourse with the Devil, and was a dangerous\nperson to deal with otherwise than on friendly terms. She was old,\nwrinkled, and ungainly in features; unmistakable characteristics of the\nsisterhood. She was possessed of wisdom in occult matters seemingly\nsuperhuman, which could only be derived from a compact with Satan.\nShe had a huge black cat, presumably an imp, her familiar, who would\nbristle up his hair and spit viciously at the old woman's visitors\nuntil restrained by her command. On one occasion, however, a handsome\nyoung man came from her cottage followed by the cat, which was observed\nto purr and rub himself affectionately against his legs, who, it was\nassumed, could be none other than the Father of Evil himself, who had\nassumed that guise to pay a friendly visit to his servant and disciple.\nShe was also sometimes away from her cottage for a night, and the\ninquiry arose--for what purpose, excepting to attend a Sabbath of the\nwitches. It is true she had never been seen passing through the air\nastride of her broom, but it was noticed that whenever she was absent\non such occasions her broom, which usually stood outside her cottage\ndoor, disappeared also, and was found in its place again on her return.\n\nAt this time the belief in witchcraft was universally prevalent, as\nwe find in the narrative of the witches of Fuystone, in the forest of\nKnaresborough, who played such pranks in the family of Edward Fairfax,\nthe translator of Tasso, about the same time. Indeed it was considered\nas impious then to doubt their existence as it is now-a-days of their\nmaster and instigator, for is there not a Scriptural precept--\"Thou\nshalt not suffer a witch to live?\" and was there not a witch of Endor\nwho summoned the spirit of Samuel? Besides, had not many decrepit\nhalf-witted old women, when subjected to torture, confessed that\nthey had entered into compact with the Devil, bargaining their souls\nfor length of years and the power of inflicting mischief on their\nneighbours? It is quite certain that the evidences of Mother Benton\nbeing one of the sisterhood of Satan were so palpable that had she not\nbeen so useful in Wakefield in her vocation of a \"wise woman\" she would\nhave been subjected to the usual ordeal, by way of testing whether she\nwere a witch or not. This ordeal consisted of stripping the accused,\ntying her thumbs to her great toes and throwing her into a pond: if\nshe floated, it was a proof that she, having rejected the baptismal\nwater of regeneration, the water rejected her, and she was hauled out\nand burnt at the stake as an undoubted witch, but if she sank and were\ndrowned she was declared innocent; so that, were she guilty or innocent\nof the foul crime, the result was pretty much the same, excepting in\nthe mode of terminating her existence.\n\nAt this time one Richard Jackson held a farm called Bunny Hall, under a\nMr. Stringer, of Sharlston, which lay near to Jennet Benton's cottage.\nOver one of Jackson's fields was a pathway, really for the use of the\ntenant of the farm, but which was used on sufferance by others, Jennet\nand her son frequently having occasion to pass along it. Jackson,\nhowever, in consequence of the damage done to his crops by passengers,\ndisputed the right of the public, and issued a public notice that after\na certain date it would be closed. The people of Wakefield, in reply to\nthe notice, asserted that it was an ancient footpath that had belonged\nto the public time out of mind, and that they intended to continue the\nuse of it in spite of Jackson's prohibition. Jennet and her son were\nthe ringleaders of this opposition, and after the closure of the path,\npassed over the railings placed across the entrance, and were going\nalong as they had been wont to do, when they were met by Daniel Craven,\none of Jackson's servants, who told them that they could not be allowed\nto cross the field as it was private property. An angry altercation\nensued, in the course of which George Benton took up a piece of flint\nand threw it with great force at Craven, \"wherewith he cut his overlipp\nand broake two teeth out of his chaps,\" and thus having overcome their\nopponent they went onward and out at the other end. An action for\ntrespass was then laid against George Benton by Farmer Jackson, who\nappears to have won his cause, as Benton \"submitted to it, and indevors\nwere used to end the difference, which was composed and satisfaction\ngiven unto the said Craven;\" satisfaction of a pecuniary nature, no\ndoubt.\n\nA few days after the judicial termination of the case, \"Jackson _v._\nBenton,\" the farmer was riding home from Wakefield market. He had to\npass Jennet's cottage on his road, and he thought to accost her in\na conciliatory style, as he did not wish to be at variance with his\nneighbours, especially with one who had the reputation of being \"a wise\nwoman,\" whose services he might require in cases of pilfering, sheep\nstealing, and the like; in cases of sickness amongst his children,\nor a murrain amongst his cattle; or in other cases beyond the ken of\nordinary mortals; hence he considered it politic to remain on good\nterms with her, although he had felt it his duty to maintain the action\nfor trespass.\n\nAs he approached the cottage, the old woman was seated outside her\ndoor, watching a cauldron suspended from cross sticks, in which was\nsimmering a decoction of herbs, to eventuate in a love philtre\nprobably for some love-sick maiden. By her side was seated her black\ncat, who bridled up and spat viciously at the farmer as he came up.\n\n\"Ah, mother Benton,\" said he, reining up, \"busy as usual, I see,\npreparing something for the benefit of one of your clients.\"\n\n\"It is no business of yours what I am preparing,\" she replied. \"I sent\nnot for you, nor do I want your conversation or interference in my\nconcerns. Go your way, or it may be the worse for you.\"\n\n\"Nay, good dame, be not angry, I came not to interfere with your\nconcerns; I merely stopped on my road home to say 'good even' to\nyou, and to see if I could be of any service to you, for I desire to\ncultivate the good-will of my neighbours.\"\n\n\"And a pretty way you have of doing so by prosecuting them in law\ncourts for maintaining the rights of themselves and their ancestors for\ngenerations past.\"\n\n\"That I was compelled to do, good Jennet, for the maintenance of my own\nrights. It was a necessity forced upon me, but I bear no ill-will to\neither you or your son. And see, as a proof thereof, I have brought\nyou a new kirtle from Wakefield,\" at the same time drawing from his\nsaddlebags a flaming scarlet garment of that kind, which he threw into\nher lap.\n\n\"Farmer Jackson,\" said she, \"come not here with your honied lips and\ndeceitful expressions of friendship. I want none of your gifts,\" and\ntaking up the kirtle, she rent it into a dozen pieces, and thrust them\ninto the fire under the cauldron.\n\n\"Listen to me one moment,\" commenced Jackson, but the old beldame,\nrising up into a majestic attitude, interrupted him with, \"I will\nlisten no more to your hypocritical palaver. You have done me a\ngrievous wrong in citing my son before your law courts, it is an\nunpardonable offence, and soon shall you know what it is to incur\nthe wrath of Jennet Benton, the wise woman of Wakefield. Within a\ntwelvemonth and a day, Farmer Jackson, shall you find at what cost\nyou set the myrmidons of the law upon me and my belongings, and from\nthat time to your life's end shall you rue that day's work. It is I,\nthe wise woman of Wakefield, who say it, and see if I am not a true\nsoothsayer, and merit the appellation I bear. That is all I have\ngot to say,\" and she passed into her cottage, whilst the farmer rode\nhomeward, not without a foreboding of impending evil.\n\nWe have many narratives on record of houses that have been the scenes\nof remarkable disturbances and strange apparitions, of furniture\nmoved from place to place without apparent agency, of domestic\nutensils thrown about by no perceptible impelling power, and of noises\nattributable to no human cause, problems that in many cases have never\nbeen solved, but which have usually been ascribed to some mischievous\ngoblin, or to the ghost of some unhappy person who has come by death\nunfairly and by foul means.\n\nFarmer Jackson's house and homestead from this time, for the period\nof a year and a day, became haunted in this fashion, but here there\ncould be no doubt as to the cause. It was the spell cast over it by\nthe machinations of the witch, Jennet Benton, and it was in fact not a\nhaunted but a bewitched house.\n\nAs Jackson rode home he thought of the curse laid upon him by the\nwitch, but being a strong-minded man he did not entertain the current\nsuperstition as to the superhuman diabolic power said to be possessed\nby such persons, and he felt little or no apprehension on that score;\nyet he inclined so far to the popular belief as to fear that by some\nmeans she might cast incantations over his cattle and crops, so as to\ncause the former to sicken and die, and the latter to wither and come\nto naught.\n\nOn reaching his home he stabled his horse, and going indoors he\naccosted his wife with some cursory remark, but she made no reply, and\nhe thought to himself, \"She is sullen to-night--in one of her tantrums;\nwhat's the matter, I wonder.\" He then sat down to supper, with his\nchildren about him, and a couple of maid-servants employed in some\ndomestic duty, when his wife inquired, \"Why are you all so silent; are\nyou all dumb; have you got anything to tell me about the doings at\nthe market, husband, goodman?\" \"What on earth do you mean?\" inquired\nJackson; \"I spoke to you when I came in, and there has been noise\nenough among the children since then to waken the Seven Sleepers.\"\nMrs. Jackson still stood staring, with a vacant countenance, and said,\nafter a pause, \"Why don't you reply? It seems as if one were in the\ncharnel-house of the church, surrounded by the dead.\" It then occurred\nto Jackson that his wife must have suddenly become stone deaf, and\nby means of signs and such writing as the family had at command, he\nascertained that such was the fact; but he dreamt not that it was the\nbeginning of the witch's spell.\n\nA night or two after, one of the children was stricken by an epileptic\nfit, throwing itself about with great violence and twisting its body\nwith strange contortions, with convulsive writhings, and requiring to\nbe held down by three or four persons to prevent its doing itself an\ninjury.\n\nOne morning the swineherd of the farm came into the room where Jackson\nwas sitting at breakfast, and with a scared countenance told him that\na herd of swine that had been shut up in a barn the previous night\n\"had broake thorrow two barn dores,\" and had fled no one knew whither.\nA search was immediately instituted, but it was not until after two\nor three days that a portion of the herd was found at a considerable\ndistance from the farm, the remainder being lost altogether.\n\nOn another occasion Jackson himself, \"although helthfull of body, was\nsuddenly taken without any probable reason to be given or naturall\ncause appearing, being sometimes in such extremity that he conceived\nhimselfe drawne in pieces at the hart, backe, and shoulders.\" During\nthe first fit he heard the sound of music and dancing, as if in the\nroom where he lay. He partially recovered the following day, but at\ntwelve o'clock the next night he had another fit, and during its\ncontinuance he heard a loud ringing of bells, accompanied by sounds\nof singing and dancing. He inquired of his wife, who appears by this\ntime to have recovered her sense of hearing, what the bell-ringing and\nsinging meant; but she replied that she heard nothing of it, as also\ndid his man. \"He asked them againe and againe if they heard it not.\nAt last he and his wife and servant heard it (what?) give three hevie\ngroones. At that instant doggs did howle and yell at the windows as\nthough they would heve puld them in pieces.\"\n\nJackson now became fully convinced that he was enduring all these\ntrials and sufferings from the curse of the witch Jennet, and he\nexpressed this opinion to his friends who came to condole with him.\nThey, with neighbourly feeling, proposed to put the question to the\ntest by submitting the old woman to the usual ordeal of the horse\npond; but he would not hear of this, not even yet, with such probable\nevidence, believing that Satan could be authorised to endow old women\nwith such mischievous powers. By the counsel of his friends, however,\nhe sanctioned the sending a deputation to Jennet to investigate the\nmatter. The deputation went to her cottage and told her their errand,\nbut she only laughed at them. \"It is true,\" said she, \"that I called\ndown the wrath of Heaven upon him and his belongings for his cruel\npersecution of a helpless widow and her orphan son; and if God has\nlistened to my supplication, and sent calamity upon him, it is intended\nas a warning to him that, for the future, he may be more merciful to\nthe poor and unprotected. If he chooses to blame any one, he must\nattribute his punishment to a much higher power than a feeble mortal\nsuch as I am.\"\n\nDuring all this time Jackson's house was rendered almost uninhabitable\nby noises and apparitions, so that the servants fled from it\npanic-stricken, and others could not be found to take their places.\nThe commencement of the disturbances was some six months after the\nutterance of the curse. The family were seated at supper when a\ntremendous crash was heard in the next room, as if some heavy metal\nvessel had been flung violently on the floor. Supposing it to be\nsomething that had fallen from a shelf or a hook in the ceiling, they\nwent into the room, but found nothing to account for the noise. At\nother times it would seem as if all the doors of the house were being\nslammed to, or the windows shaken as by a storm of wind, although there\nwas not the slightest agitation in the atmosphere. Then would occur\nshrieks as of persons in distress, groans as of sufferers in agonies of\npain, and bursts of demoniac laughter, with a flapping of huge bat-like\nwings. \"Apparitions like blacke dogges and catts were also scene,\"\nwhich darted out from under the furniture and usually passed out up the\nchimney, it being immaterial whether or not a fire was blazing in the\ngrate. Along with all these disturbances in the house and unaccountable\nillnesses of the various members of the household, the horses and\ncattle of the farm were subjected to similar inflictions, much to the\ndetriment of Jackson's material prosperity. Week after week news came\nin of the death of horses, cows, and sheep: and in his deposition at\nYork, Jackson said that \"since the time the said Jennet and George\nBenton threatened him he hath lost eighteen horses and meares, and he\nconceives he hath had all this loss by the use of some witchcraft or\nsorcerie by the said Jennet and George Benton.\"\n\nFor a twelvemonth and a day these disturbances, sufferings, and losses\ncontinued, rendering Jackson almost bankrupt, and then they all at once\nceased.\n\nBeing fully convinced that these troubles had been caused by the\ndiabolical incantations of the witch Jennet, he brought a charge\nagainst her and her son, at York, of practising witchcraft against\nhim, and they were tried at the assizes on the 7th June, 1656. The\ndepositions of the trial are printed in a volume published by the\nSurtees Society in 1861, entitled \"Depositions from the Castle of York\nrelating to offences committed in the northern counties during the\nseventeenth century. Edited by J. Raine.\"\n\n\n\n\n_ELEGANTLY BOUND IN CLOTH GILT, DEMY 8vo., 6s._\n\nYORKSHIRE FAMILY ROMANCE.\n\nBy FREDERICK ROSS, F.R.H.S.\n\nAUTHOR OF \"THE RUINED ABBEYS OF ENGLAND,\" \"CELEBRITIES OF YORKSHIRE\nWOLDS,\" \"BIOGRAPHIA EBORACENSIS,\" \"THE PROGRESS OF CIVILISATION,\" ETC.\n\n\nAmongst Yorkshire Authors Mr. FREDERICK ROSS occupies a leading place.\nFor over sixty years he has been a close student of the history of\nhis native county, and perhaps no author has written so much and\nwell respecting it. His residence in London has enabled him to take\nadvantage of the important stores of unpublished information contained\nin the British Museum, the Public Record Office, and in other places.\nHe has also frequently visited Yorkshire to collect materials for his\nworks. His new book is one of the most readable and instructive he\nhas written. It will be observed from the following list of subjects\nthat the work is of wide and varied interest, and makes a permanent\ncontribution to Yorkshire literature.\n\n\n  CONTENTS:\n\n  The Synod of Streoneshalh.\n  The Doomed Heir of Osmotherley.\n  St. Eadwine, the Royal Martyr.\n  The Viceroy Siward.\n  Phases in the Life of a Political Martyr.\n  The Murderer's Bride.\n  The Earldom of Wiltes.\n  Blackfaced Clifford.\n  The Shepherd Lord.\n  The Felons of Ilkley.\n  The Ingilby Boar's Head.\n  The Eland Tragedy.\n  The Plumpton Marriage.\n  The Topcliffe Insurrection.\n  Burning of Cottingham Castle.\n  The Alum Workers.\n  The Maiden of Marblehead.\n  Rise of the House of Phipps.\n  The Traitor Governor of Hull.\n\n\n IMPORTANT NOTICE.--The Edition is limited to 500 copies, and the\n greater part are sold. The book will advance in price in course of\n time.\n\n\nHULL: WILLIAM ANDREWS & CO., THE HULL PRESS.\nLondon: Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent, & Co., Ltd.\n\n\n\n\n_Elegantly bound in cloth gilt, demy 8vo., price 6s._\n\nOld Church Lore.\n\nBy WILLIAM ANDREWS, F.R.H.S.,\n\n_Author of \"Curiosities of the Church,\" \"Old-Time Punishments,\"\n\"Historic Romance,\" etc._\n\n\n CONTENTS.\n\n The Right of Sanctuary--The Romance of Trial--A Fight between the\n Mayor of Hull and the Archbishop of York--Chapels on Bridges--Charter\n Horns--The Old English Sunday--The Easter Sepulchre--St. Paul's\n Cross--Cheapside Cross--The Biddenden Maids Charity--Plagues and\n Pestilences--A King Curing an Abbot of Indigestion--The Services\n and Customs of Royal Oak Day--Marrying in a White Sheet--Marrying\n under the Gallows--Kissing the Bride--Hot Ale at Weddings--Marrying\n Children--The Passing Bell--Concerning Coffins--The Curfew\n Bell--Curious Symbols of the Saints--Acrobats on Steeples--A\n carefully-prepared Index.\n\nILLUSTRATED.\n\n\nPRESS OPINIONS.\n\n \"A worthy work on a deeply interesting subject.... We commend this\n book strongly.\"--_European Mail._\n\n \"An interesting volume.\"--_The Scotsman._\n\n \"Contains much that will interest and instruct.\"--_Glasgow Herald._\n\n \"Mr. Andrews' book does not contain a dull page.... Deserves to meet\n with a very warm welcome.\"--_Yorkshire Post._\n\n \"Mr. Andrews, in 'Old Church Lore,' makes the musty parchments and\n records he has consulted redolent with life and actuality, and has\n added to his works a most interesting volume, which, written in a\n light and easy narrative style, is anything but of the 'dry-as-dust'\n order. The book is handsomely got up, being both bound and printed in\n an artistic fashion.\"--_Northern Daily News._\n\n\nHULL: WILLIAM ANDREWS & CO., THE HULL PRESS.\nLondon: Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent, & Co., Ltd.\n\n\n\n\n      *      *      *      *      *      *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\nObvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the author's\noriginal spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact.","title":"Legendary Yorkshire","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":49166}