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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT 
 
 AND 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 BY THE L.VTE 
 
 GEORGE JAMES D E WILDE, 
 
 Editor of the " Northampfoit Mei-curii" 
 
 EDITED BY EDWARD DICEY. 
 
 ITortbampton : 
 TAYLOR & SOX, PRINTERS AND PUBLISHERS. 
 
 1S78.
 
 /5r 
 
 ■■j> 
 
 CONTESTS 
 
 
 Page. 
 
 " In Memoriam " 
 
 iii. — vii. 
 
 Bliswokth 
 
 1 
 
 Farewell to Summer 
 
 7 
 
 KiNGSTHORPE 
 
 9 
 
 Byeways and Highways 
 
 21 
 
 DODEORB 
 
 22 
 
 Lines for the fly-leaf of a Dl4.ry 
 
 29 
 
 About John Clare 
 
 30 
 
 By the Canal 
 
 60 
 
 HOLDENBY 
 
 62 
 
 Songs by the Wayside 
 
 66 
 
 Gayton 
 
 67 
 
 Simon, the Piping Crow 
 
 74 
 
 Abington 
 
 76 
 
 The Monks of Yore : a Ballad 
 
 88 
 
 EOTHERSTHORPE 
 
 90 
 
 Autumn in Kent 
 
 95 
 
 COTTERSTOCK 
 
 97 
 
 Bath : Evening from Cleveland Bridge . . 
 
 112 
 
 TOWCESTER 
 
 113 
 
 Tile Old Man and the Conqueror (From 
 
 Beranger) 129 
 
 Green's Norton 
 
 131 
 
 Eydon Hall 
 
 137 
 
 Wellingborough 
 
 138 
 
 The Advent of Spring 
 
 152 
 
 Great Doddington 
 
 153 
 
 A Legend of Mont du Chat 
 
 159 
 
 871154
 
 II 
 
 Parje. 
 
 "Weston Favell 163 
 
 The AVater Mill 170 
 
 Lamport 171 
 
 The Tun Unvisited 177 
 
 Newport Pagnell ... ... ... ... ... 181 
 
 To H. P. P 191 
 
 Weedon Beck 193 
 
 A Sudden Winter 197 
 
 Barnwell St. Andrews & Barnwell All Saints (a fragment) 199 
 
 The Burial Place op Beethoven ... 203 
 
 Northampton — Bridge Street 206 
 
 November 215 
 
 Northampton — The Drapery ... ... ... 216 
 
 A Poet's Home 221 
 
 Northampton — The Mayorhold and Horsemarket 223 
 
 A Ballad 228 
 
 Northampton — St. Thomas's Hospital 229 
 
 The Haven 234, 
 
 Northampton a Hundred Years Ago 236 
 
 The Vision of Dry Bones ... ... 251 
 
 Canon's Ashby 253 
 
 Carisbrook ... ... ... ... ... ... 254
 
 "&t Hmoriam/' 
 
 MF, according to the old proverb, those nations are the 
 happiest which have no history, I think it may be stated with 
 «ven greater truth that those lives are happiest whose records 
 are least full of incidents. Each man seeks his own happiness 
 after his own fashion. But to me, from such observation as I 
 have made, it does not seem that to have been an actor in great 
 events ; to have experienced many vicissitudes of fortune ; to 
 have known many men and many cities, adds much to the sum of 
 human happiness. Be this as it may, there were few lives more 
 devoid of incident; more uneventful; more even in the tenor 
 of their way, than that of the author of these " Eambles 
 Roundabout." Yet, looking back upon long years of intimate 
 acquaintance and constant intercourse, I may say that I have 
 never known any one to whom the epithet " Happy" might be 
 more truly given. Such, I deem, must have been the impression 
 left on the minds of all who knew him ; and this record, brief and 
 meagre as it necessarily is, would yet be wanting in its first duty, 
 should it fail to convey — if the metaphor may be pardoned me — a 
 certain reflection of the sunniness of a life so barren of events, 
 so placid in its outward course. 
 
 George James De Wilde was born in London in the year 
 1804. His family were of Dutch origin, his grandfather having 
 emigrated from Holland during the troubles in the close of the 
 last century. His father was a painter of considerable reputation 
 ju his own line. The stage in the reign of George III. and
 
 IV 
 
 George IV. occupied a very difTerent position from what it does 
 now. Tlie portraiture of favourite actors in popular pieces 
 formed an important department of the pictorial trade ; and of 
 this department Mr. De Wilde's father had an almost complete 
 monopoly. In tho dramatic gallery of the Garrick Club a very 
 large portion of the paintings bear the signature of De Wilde. 
 The pursuit, however, of a theatrical portrait painter was neither 
 very sure nor very lucrative ; nor was the society, into which the 
 artist was inevitably thrown, one exactly calculated to develope 
 the qualities required for family life. Mr. De Wilde was not 
 much given to talk about his early years ; indeed, I never knew 
 any one less prone to make himself the subject of his own 
 conversation. But I fancy his childhood and youth were 
 chequered by the vicissitudes often accompanying the lives of 
 men who bring up families on uncertain and irregular incomes. 
 He has told me that as a boy he passed his time mainly behind 
 the scenes of theatres ; and it is possible he acquired there the 
 strong artistic tastes which characterised him afterwards. Of 
 regular classical schooling he could have had but little, but his 
 love for letters — a love developed early, and which grew with 
 each succeeding year — more than supplied the place of regular 
 training. Mr. De Wilde was originally destined to be an artist ; 
 and his sketches and drawings give proof of a natural talent, which 
 with more culture might have attained eminence. But somehow, 
 like many men, with whom art is rather a taste than a ruling 
 passion, Mr. De Wilde soon drifted into the by-paths of letters. 
 With Leigh Hunt and his family, with the Cowden Clarkes, and 
 other literary personages of note, Mr. De Wilde formed intimate 
 acquaintance during the brief period of his life in London as a 
 young man. About the time, however, of his coming of age, he 
 obtained temporary employment in the Colonial Office. While 
 there he attracted the notice of the late Sir James Stephen, then 
 Assistant-Secretary for the Colonies, and was employed by him 
 as amanuensis, after his engagement with the Colonial Office had 
 come to a close. 
 
 In 1826, Mr. De Wilde married Mary Caroline Butterworth, and 
 in 1880 he was recommended by Sir James Stephen to his brother-
 
 In-law, the late proprietor of this journal, for the Editorship of the 
 Northampton 3Iercury, which was then vacant. For upwards of 
 forty years, indeed to the very day of his death, Mr. De Wilde 
 retained the post in question. Of his merits as Editor, it is not 
 possible for the present writer to speak without touching upon per- 
 sonal considerations, nor can I do more than allude in passing to 
 the long, close, and unbroken friendship which subsisted between 
 the Editor and the Proprietors of the Mercury. But of his relations 
 with the outer world I can speak more freely. He came here a 
 very young man. He died at a ripe, though not an advanced age, 
 and during forty and odd years he never wrote or said an unkind 
 word, never lost a friend or made an enemy, never asked a favour 
 or refused a service. His life here was of the quietest and most 
 regular. "With the exception of short holiday rambles in the 
 summer, he never quitted ISTorthamjDton for any time till the 
 approach of his last illness. Except when he was engaged in 
 editorial duties, he was seldom away from the Mercury office ; 
 and the moments not occupied by the cares of an engrossing 
 business were spent in reading and study. During the intervals 
 of leisure, he learnt French very thoroughly ; he made himself a 
 good Italian and Latin scholar ; he attained to considerable 
 proficiency as an antiquarian ; while the amount of book lore he 
 acquired in odd hours was something wonderful. He also con- 
 tributed many papers to the Gentleman's Magazine, to Notes and 
 Queries, the Mirror, and the Gashet, chiefly under the noms de 
 plume of Sylvan Southgate, Camden Somers, and Vandyke Brown. 
 Indeed, if Mr. De Wilde could have fashioned out his life to please 
 himself, he would have spent it, I fancy, amidst the books he 
 loved so dearly. Yet there was aboiit him nothing of the 
 selfishness of the bookworm. Though not a man fond of jjublic 
 life, he was always ready to take part in any undertaking which 
 he regarded as a public duty. As one of the chief promoters of 
 the Mechanics' Institute in this town, and the Northampton 
 Museum, and as a Governor of the General Infirmary, he did no 
 small service to the town in which his lot was thrown, and which 
 he had learnt to regard as his home. 
 
 So the years went by. The hair that had been full and brown
 
 YI 
 
 when he came first to Northampton became .spare and gray, the 
 step less active, the eye less bright than of old. But to the very 
 last he preserved a freshness of look which most men lose before 
 full manhood, and which was strangely characteristic of the man. 
 There was something of " the boy in heart " about him. The 
 cheerfulness of childhood, the true child-like appreciation of 
 simjile enjoyments, the child's faith in human nature, remained 
 with him unchecked, in spite of the wear and tear, the sorrows, 
 cares, anxieties, and disappointments of a busy life. His wife 
 died in 1840, leaving him a widower with five children, the 
 youngest of whom survived its birth but a few months. In 1845 
 he mai-ried Miss Packer, by whom he leaves one daughter. His 
 family relations were regularly happy and affectionate, and though 
 his children by his first marriage made homes of their own and 
 went out to seek their fortunes away from Northampton, there 
 was none of that separation which so often parts parents and 
 grown-up sons and daughters. His children were the companions 
 he loved best, and his society was the one most welcome to them. 
 A man of singularly temjaerate and regular, though not 
 active habits, Mr. De Wilde enjoyed extremely good health till 
 within a few months of his death. Towards the middle of 
 last summer alarming symptoms set in, of whose existence 
 he had himself been some time aware, but of which, according 
 to his natural wont always to think of others before himself, 
 he had made no mention. It was thought that rest from work 
 was all that was required to remove the malady, and, for the 
 first time in his life, he went away from Northampton, meaning 
 to be absent for some weeks. The weeks went by, and his 
 strength diminished gradually, while reluctance to remain away 
 from his post seemed to tell upon his mind. He came back 
 to Northampton after some two months' absence, sank rapidly, 
 and died somewhat suddenly upon the 16th of last September. 
 His last illness was a lingering and painful one ; and to a 
 man of singularly active mind, whose mental powers remained 
 unimpaired to the close, it was rendered exceptionally harassing 
 from the peculiar features of the malady. Yet his sweetness of 
 disposition, his serenity of tempei-, never varied : his reluctance
 
 Vll 
 
 to let others do the work which was his by rights, increased, if 
 that were possible, with his failing strength. "Within a very few 
 hours of his death he corrected the proof-sheets of the forthcoming 
 number of the Mercury, and then went into a sleep from which he 
 never woke. 
 
 Such is the scant outline of a life as worthy, blameless, and 
 upright as, I think, has often been led in this world of ours. No 
 human being, to the best of my belief, was ever the worse for 
 having known George James De Wilde : there were few who were 
 not better for the knowledge, and than this I know of no higher — 
 and I can add — no truer epitaph. 
 
 These " Eambles Eoundabout " were not written for publica- 
 tion as a complete work. They were published in the Mercury, at 
 various intervals, over a period of many years ; and the poems 
 inserted between them are selected from the author's contributions 
 to different periodicals. These " Eambles " must therefore be 
 taken, not so much as a work representing the writer's powers, 
 but rather as a memorial offered to those who knew him, and 
 would gladly preserve some record of his memory. 
 
 EDWAED DICEY. 
 
 M&rcury Office, Noiilimnpton, 
 Bee. mil, 1871.
 
 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT. 
 
 '■' Blisworth, Northampton, PeterhorougJi — change here I " 
 
 sHE traveller by tlie night mail starts from his uneasy nap 
 as the cry of the railway porter runs along the lengthy 
 train ; and, peering out into the night, forms his idea 
 of Blisworth as of a long enclosed platform, with a 
 refreshment room at one end and bowery tea gardens 
 on the other, with, perhaps, twinkling lights in the 
 shrubberies, and the lingering sounds of music, 
 
 " And ladies' laughter comiug through the shade." 
 In the old coaching days, a town or a village and its name 
 were associated together ; now you may hear the name of a place 
 duly announced hundi'eds of times, yet never get an inkling of the 
 place itself. Your mail coach penetrated the veiy heart of a town ; 
 you were familiar with its Guildhall, its market-place, its church, 
 and its chief inn, though you never left your seat on the box. The 
 mail train only skirts the places at which it professes to stop ; the 
 town itself may be a mile or two oif, and even where you touch 
 upon it the chances are that you are introduced only to its most 
 squalid suburb. Great are the advantages of railways, but the
 
 ■i EAMBLE3 ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 advantage of seeing towns as you travel is not one of them. Yoti 
 run fty them, not through tliem, and to read as you run is out of 
 tli(! question. 
 
 Blisworth is a good mile from the station. The walk thither 
 
 l)y the canal side in the early morning is delightful, though the 
 
 introduction of steam in the canal boats, and the repair of the 
 
 towing path with cinders and clinkers, have not improved it. On the 
 
 h;l"t the view is bounded by the railway embankment, covered with 
 
 trees; on the right meadows slope to tlie water's edge; here and 
 
 there a fringe of willows, reflected in the stream, tempts the sketchcr 
 
 to linger. Southward the church tower, Avith the lofty elms aboiit, 
 
 peopled in the early spring with bnsy rooks, makes a picturesque 
 
 distance. As you approach the Blisworth Bridge, a red-brick 
 
 wharf, toned with grey and yellow lichens, repeating in the water its 
 
 rich and glowing tints, can' be passed unheeded by nobody who 
 
 appreciates colour. It is a remarkable instance of the way in 
 
 which nature sets about correcting the unpicturesque works of man. 
 
 Time, destroyer though he be, is a great artist, and converts the 
 
 luost unlovely forms into objects that arrest the passer-by, and 
 
 compel his admiration. Blisworth itself looks like a place that has 
 
 l)een more important than it now aft'ects to be. It abounds in 
 
 sixteenth and seventeenth century houses, substantially built of 
 
 stone, with good Tudor windows, stone mullioned and square 
 
 hooded. Mr. Gibbs's house is a good specimen, and retains, 
 
 though somewhat mutilated in the heading, the original doorway. 
 
 Some of the buildings present striking instances of the use of lines 
 
 of dark coloured stone. Many houses, now occupied as cottages, 
 
 were obviously built for tenants of a much higher class. One 
 
 bears the date 1616 ; another 1631. A stone in a building, more 
 
 decidedly of the cottage character, near the blacksmith's, is 
 
 inscribed — NGIG 1613. The dead wall in the centre of the 
 
 village, on the southern side of the highway, has the appearance 
 
 nf having been at some time an extensive building ; it bears traces 
 
 of doors and windows, which have been walled up, and the stone
 
 BLISWORTH. 3 
 
 work is very substantial and well finished. Bridges makes no 
 allusion to it. He si)Gaks, indeed, of the Manor House near the 
 church, and says, " The old seat which stood there was formerly 
 the residence of the family of Wake. Here was antiently a park 
 and a warren." The wall in question can scarcely be said to be 
 near the church in the strict sense of the word, but " near" is a 
 vague word, and part of the appurtenant buildings may have stood 
 here. 
 
 The church, dedicated to St. John the Baptist, stands towards 
 tlie western end of the village ; it consists of a western tower, bat- 
 tlcmented ; nave, north and south aisles, and chancel. Within the 
 last few years it has been restored, and is in substantial condition. 
 The old high, square pews, in which our forefathers loved modestly 
 to screen themselves from the curiosity of their neighbours, and 
 upon the possession of which it is certain that very much dignity 
 was supposed to depend, have given way to uniform low seats ; the 
 tower arch, which used to be blocked up by a gallery, has been 
 opened ; and the pillars of the nave have been cleaned of their many 
 coats of paint. The interior presents no remains of an antiquity 
 greater than the Decorated Period, unless we are to accept the font, 
 a perfectly plain bowl on a bowl reversed, as Norman. The chancel 
 is of ample dimensions, and has a handsome Perpendicular screen, 
 and stalls and panelling of the same date. A small piscina remains 
 ni the south wall. Just without the chancel arc the doorway and 
 opening above to the Rood-loft. A stained window in the chancel 
 represents the raising of Jairus' daughter, in memory of the son of 
 the rector, the llev. William Barry. In the south aisle is a canopy 
 of rather peculiar form, over a founder's tomb, and nearly in front 
 is a fine altar tomb, which Bridges thinks may have formerly stood 
 beneath the arch. But they evidently belong to distinct periods, 
 and we see no reason to suppose that the tomb has been removed 
 from its original site. It is to the memory of iloger Wake ; tlie 
 sides are of the freestone of the neighbourhood, the upper slab of 
 miirble, into which are let several brasses. One of these represents
 
 4 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 a marble figure in complete armour with the hands in the attitude 
 of prayer ; another, a female figure in a similar attitude : beneath 
 the former are three figures of children, and beneath the latter 
 four similar figures. At each corner of the slab is a shield charged 
 with the arms of Wake and Catesby, and similar shields connected 
 with the Wake knot occur on the North front and West end of the 
 monument. There appear to have been sculptures of a similar 
 kind at the East end, but the work is too much defaced to be 
 intelligil)le. Another brass of an ornamental form is missing from 
 the centre of the upper part of the slab. A border of brass encloses 
 the whole, part of which is missing, in part since Bridges' time. 
 What remains is inscribed as follows : — " Here lyeth Roger Wake, 
 Esquyer, lorde of Blysworth, in the counte of ... . which 
 Eoger decessyd the xvith day of Marche, the yere of our Lorde God 
 M.cccccill., on whose soide jhu have mcy." Bridges partly 
 supplies the gap with the words, after " counte of" — "Northampton, 
 and. Elizabeth, his." It is singular that the date of the wife's death 
 is not given ; nor is any mention made of the children ; Bridges, 
 in copying the legend, has given only four C's, making an error of 
 a hundred years, and antedating the period of Roger Wake's death 
 1403 instead of 1503. This Roger Wake was descended from 
 Baldwin Lord Wake, who derived the manor and advowson of 
 Blisworth from William de Briwere, who received them as a grant 
 from King John. He was a man of mark. Having married 
 Elizabeth, the daughter of Sir William Catesby, of Ashby St. 
 Ledgers, the favourite of Richard III., he espoused the cause of 
 that monarch, with whose fortunes his own also succumbed. After 
 the battle of Bosworth Field his lands became forfeited to the 
 Crown, and in the third year of Henry VII. the manor oi Blisworth 
 was granted to Sir James Blounte. His attainder, however, was 
 reversed in the same reign, and he was reinstated in his possessions, 
 including Blisworth, where he founded a Free-school. His son, 
 Thomas Wake, sold the manor to Sir Richard Kniglitley, of Fawsley, 
 whose descendant, Sir Edmund Knightley, exchanged it for the
 
 BLISWORTH. 5 
 
 manor of Badby and certain otlier of the dissolved Abbey Lands. 
 It was then annexed to the Honour of Grafton, and his Grace the 
 Duke of Grafton is its present possessor. 
 
 In the tower hangs a wooden tablet, recording an exploit of 
 some of the forefathers of the village, when Ellsworth seems to have 
 cultivated bell-ringing: — "To the memory of the following ringers, 
 John Gudgeon, Wm. Peach, Benjamin Goode, Thomas Carter, and 
 Thomas Garner, Who on ye 31st December, 1790, Did Ring 45.6 
 scores in 3 hours and 40 minutes, which amounts to 5,000 changes. 
 Written by E. Dunckly, clerk. May 12, 1791." Taking this 
 inscription in its literal sense, one would be led to understand that 
 those gentlemen all died of their exertions between December and 
 May, We hope that was not so, and that the tablet was put up 
 in memory of the exploit, not of the actors in it. On the north side 
 of the chancel there is a confessional window ; and in the church- 
 yard, which is ascended from the road by a flight of steps, are the 
 steps of a cross now carrying a sun-dial. 
 
 Ellsworth, irregular, straggling, and covering a considerable 
 area, is a pleasant and picturesque village, picturesque and pleasant 
 in its very irregularity. Gardens and trees intervene between the 
 houses ; huge elder trees, roses in masses, brilliant tiger lilies, profuse 
 wall-ilowers, delight the eye, and fill the air with odour, Ellsworth 
 seems to have a special enjoyment in flowers. On the Stoke 
 Bruerne turn Mr, Westley makes the entrance to his steam mills 
 perfectly dazzling with geraniums and petunias, and other brilliant 
 plants, A noble row of elms borders the churchyard, and the 
 rectory is fairly hidden in trees. Almost from any point in the 
 village, an artist may make a picture. At the North-East turn 
 there is the tree which was once the indispensable feature in the 
 scenery of our ancestral villages : 
 
 " How often have I blest the coming day, 
 When toil remitting lent its turn to play. 
 And all the village train, from labour free, 
 Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree."
 
 b RAMBLES EOUNDABOUT. 
 
 Blisworth lies high, and a little distance North of this point you 
 look down upon the railroad. Descending towards it, the arch 
 which connects the embankment over the road has a noble 
 appearance — noble in its severe simplicity and stately proportions. 
 We have already noticed the pleasant effect of the plantations of tirs 
 wliicli adorn the slopes of the embankment. 
 
 To write of Blisworth, and to say nothing about Blisworth 
 Gardens, would be almost like playing Hamlet and leaving out the 
 character of the Prince of Denmark. It is a pity that the access to 
 them from the station is not easier, or rather that it is not more 
 obvious, for it is really easy enough. The weary half-hour which 
 one often has to spend oscillating up and down the platform would 
 pass lightly enough if one might pass it instead, in wandering 
 about those really charming grounds, brilliant with flowers, and 
 refreshing with greenest turf and shady bowers. People are too 
 apt, we suspect, to think of them only on those days when they are 
 gay with groups of merry company, and to ignore the quiet charm 
 of them at ordinary times, when they are comparatively deserted. 
 Bat a pleasanter place to saunter in with a book at noon-day, or 
 when you desire a " nest for evening weai-iness," you will not easily 
 find. Among its other attractions, it has a lawn so beautifully 
 embanked and so smooth shaven, that it seems impossible not to 
 play at bowls there, or croquet, or archery, or any other of those 
 good out-of-door games which ought to be encouraged for the sake 
 of the ladies, and the health we desire them to possess.
 
 imMl U Rummer. 
 
 LAS, tlie pleasant time is going, 
 The pleasant snmmer time : 
 Farewell to noontides bright and glowing. 
 Sweet nights and balmiest prime. 
 
 Farewell, sweet time of meeting twilights 
 
 Of never ceasing song ; 
 From morning's lark to night's lone warbler, 
 
 Singing all night long. 
 
 Farewell to sweet walks by the river 
 
 At sunny eventide ; 
 Farewell to gay barks homeward going, 
 
 Faint through the gloom descried. 
 
 Farewell to serenades by moonlight ; 
 
 To white hands putting by 
 The jasmine and the clustering roses, 
 
 Farewell the answering sigh. 
 
 Farewell when least the spirit waileth 
 
 The bonds that hold it in ; 
 Farewell the time when least the vessel 
 
 Tainteth the wine within. 
 
 The last brown sheaf is cut and garner' d, 
 
 The gleaner's work is done ; 
 And many a cloud of stormy purple 
 
 Barreth the setting sun.
 
 ODE TO SUMMER. 
 
 Fierce winds are in the forest stirring ; 
 
 Sear leaves come eddying down ; 
 And from the eaves and from the river 
 
 The busy martlet's flown. 
 
 Ah ! liappy bird ! that chasest summer 
 Where-e'er her footsteps flee. 
 
 Nor ever of the frozen winter 
 Knowest the misery. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, beloved season. 
 
 Till thou com'st back again 
 The memory of thy joyous sunshine 
 
 Shall round our hearths remain. 
 
 Sweet verse shall aid our liappy dreamings, 
 
 And music, sweeter still : 
 And painting, with its deathless splendours 
 The outlined canvas fill. 
 
 Farewell, the pleasant time is going, 
 
 The pleasant summer time ; 
 Farewell to noontides bright and glowing, 
 
 Sweet nights anil balmiest prime.
 
 "jHIRTY years ago somebody writing in Hone's Year Book 
 pronounced Kingsthorpe one of the prettiest villages 
 about Northampton, and he describes the way thither 
 " by a rural route." Thirty years have wrought strange 
 alteration, and it may be not unam using to accompany 
 that rural rambler of a remote period, and contrast the way 
 to Kingsthorpe of 1831 with the way of 1863. The world has 
 moved forward since then with mighty strides, and Northampton 
 has moved with it, not pari passu perhaps, but still forward. It has 
 put out a long arm northwards, and almost shakes hands with the 
 pretty village beyond. In another thirty years it will probably 
 have absorbed it. Thirty years ago Leicester Terrace (then 
 unfinished) was the " ultima Thule " of Northampton. Beyond 
 those three or four houses there was not a building, with the 
 exception of the Koman Catholic Chapel and the Bishop's House, 
 till just south of the toll-gate at Kingsthorpe ; and these Avere 
 considered so remote from the town that there was considerable 
 difficulty in getting them tenanted. Beyond " The Bull," indeed, 
 at North End, you had bidden adieu to the town, and were fairly 
 in the couutry. St. Andrew's Terrace was not built, nor the 
 streets westward of it ; Koyal Terrace was of nothing like its 
 present extent, and tliere was a considerable interval between the 
 last house and the Barracks. Beyond the Barracks again there 
 was another interval of hedge and field before you came to 
 Leicester Terrace. On the east side there were a few houses, aTui 
 only a few, with like intervals of hedge-row and garden ground. 
 On that side the last house northward was the pretty '• Belle
 
 10 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 Alliance Cottage," at the corner of the Eace-course, scarcely a 
 cottage ornee, and conspicuous chiefly by its row of noble poplars. 
 Just beyond the last house in Leicester Terrace there was a gate 
 opening into a field, where the corn-crake might be heard on a 
 summer's evening. Pushing open this gate, the rambler in Hone's 
 book followed a path which took him into " Semilong " (he was out 
 for a rural stroll, and so avoided the direct way along the road), 
 which he describes as delightfully pleasant and picturesque. When 
 he came again into the London road he probably met one of the 
 Northern stage-coaches to London. Proceeding along the road 
 only a few yards, he crossed a low stile on the left into a path 
 running parallel with the road across a field. This path has been 
 destroyed within the last twenty years ; not without a fight for it 
 on the part of the pedestrian public, who regularly demolished the 
 obstructions at the stiles. They were defeated at last when the 
 field became a brickyard. You might still assert your right to get 
 over the stile, but you did it at the risk of being drowned or 
 smothered in a clay-pit. This path led to another stile, crossing 
 which you entered the park of Kingsthorpe House, and kept a path 
 close to the road, but separated from it by a row of noble trees, 
 still the pride of the Kingsthorpe road. A relic of this path still 
 exists, in a forlorn and dilapidated condition, at its northern 
 extremity. Here our rambler emerged again into the high road by 
 the toll-gate, which was new then, and disconcerted his eye. It 
 sinned against the picturesque cluster of primitive-looking cottages 
 of stone and thatch, probably, he says, constructed out of the 
 ruins of an hospital founded there about 1200. His sense of the 
 proprieties would receive a severer shock if he were to wander this 
 way now, and see the row of modern brick houses which have 
 pushed his rural cottages and the ruins from their stools. The 
 toll-gate, with the roses climbing up it, is now the more picturesque 
 object of the two. 
 
 Strange that our friend in the " Year Book" should have 
 omitted all mention of the two attractive inns which at that time
 
 KINGSTHORPE. 11 
 
 mflt his view when he got through the toll gate. That imfortunate 
 structure appears to have so disconcerted him that he hastened out 
 of its presence as quickly as possible, and, turning down the lane 
 to the left, sought the village proper, clustering about the chiirch 
 out of the way of toll gates, and secluded from stage-coaches. We 
 shall take leave, hoAvever, to pause here awhile and ask the reader 
 to enjoy with us a pleasant prospect — pleasant still, though one of 
 the inns (The White Horse) is an inn no longer. When the 
 coaches went off the road, it died, we suppose, of insufficient 
 patronage, though one might have thought that the increasing 
 population of Northampton would have kept alive so agreeable a 
 place of summer resort ; for it had very special attractions. Its 
 situation in the wide open space facing the west, with a prospect of 
 trees and undulating fields and rustic roofs in the distance ; its 
 ample grounds fenced in with noble trees ; and its beautiful 
 bowling-green ought, one would have thought, to have saved it. 
 Then there was a porch, and the wide road, with the grassy plot 
 between, made it possible and pleasant to have a cheesecake (it had 
 a reputation for cheesecakes) and a glass of amber home-brewed, 
 on a little round table outside, in the evening sunshine. It had had 
 its day. Bowls was a courtly game once, and the White Horse was 
 no doubt the aristocratic Inn, frequented l)y the rank, the fashion, 
 and the beauty of the neighbourhood. For beauty in the gallant 
 days of the second Charles played at bowls as well as the manly 
 sex. Pepys, speaking of White-Hall Gardens, says — " Where 
 lords and ladies are now at bowles, in brave condition." The 
 White Horse is at least as old as the time of Charles 11., and we 
 may be sure that its Bowling Green presented a brilliant spectacle 
 in the days when the dress of the gallants was as showy as the 
 costume of the ladies. Silks, satins, ribbons of all gorgeous hues, 
 feathers, flowing periwigs, glossy ringlets, bandeaux of pearls, all 
 manner of " bravery," as it was called, must have gone nigh to put 
 the veiy flowers out of countenance. Why ladies do not play at 
 bowls now, when there is a disposition to revive old and graceful
 
 12 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 sports, Ave do not knovr. Bowls is a good and healthy game, and 
 might supersede " Aunt Sally" to great advantage. " Aunt 
 Sally," let Fashion patronize it as she will, is essentially a vulgar 
 sport : how can there be anything graceful in a bevy of ladies 
 shying sticks at a poor caricature of their own sex ? 
 
 Kingsthorpe, it is certain, was no ordinary village. At every 
 turn of its windings you find traces of stately mansions no longer 
 existing. Baker says it Avas " traditionally reported that three 
 coaches and six were formerly kept here," a tradition which we 
 have little doubt was well founded. Coaches and six were luxuries 
 two centuries ago no doubt, but they were also luxurious neces- 
 sities in days when wealthy people travelled in their own equipages, 
 and roads at some seasons of the year were next to impassable. 
 " The White Horse " is now the residence of W. Tomalin, Esq., 
 the Clerk to the County IMagistrates, who has ornamented the front, 
 covered it with clambering roses, and enclosed a piece of ground 
 and planted it with evergreens. Yeiy cheerfid and agreeable it 
 looks ; answering exactly to the poet's desire : 
 
 • " dressed with blooms 
 
 Of honied green and quaint with straggling rooms," 
 
 with rambling out-buildings about it, as if ground were " not an 
 object." 
 
 But though " The White Horse " is out of commission, " The 
 Cock " remains. " The Cock " is an Inn to glad the Eambler's 
 eye ; its front overspread with the vine ; its ample bay windows 
 with seats in them ; its old-fashioned door with a through passage 
 that affords a glimpse of the back yard with its trees and flowers ; 
 above all, its porch, with the seats and balcony over it, reminding 
 one of the Inns in Hogarth's Pictures. TVe never see it without 
 imagining a Captain Macheath exchanging courtesies with the land- 
 lady above as he takes his stirrup cup. 
 
 The lane down by " The Cock " is very tempting, shaded as it 
 is by the noble trees in the Park of the Misses Boddington, and we 
 are not sui-prised that our predecessor in the " Year Book " turned
 
 KINGSTHORPE. 13 
 
 down the green and shadowy way. But we shall keep the high road 
 a little further, and passing Mr. Tomaliu's house go on to the 
 Blacksmith's, which is worth looking at. A country Blacksmith's 
 Shop is a pleasant place mostly : 
 
 "And children coming home from school 
 
 Look in at the open door ; 
 They love to see the flaming forge 
 
 And hear the bellows roar; 
 And catch the burning sparks that fly 
 
 Like chaff from a thrashing Hoor." 
 
 And this one is specially pleasant. It has the counterpart of the 
 tree which Longfellow has made immortal as an appanage to the 
 craft, excepting that the tree is a sycamore instead of a chestnut : 
 
 " Under the spreading chestnut tree 
 The village smithy stands." 
 
 Nor Avill the archaeologist pass it heedlessly by. One large 
 arch and two small Decorated niches, one blocked up, tell of an 
 origin more stately than its present occupation would indicate. It 
 is singular that Baker makes no allusion to it. Bridges evidently 
 points to it as the remains of the Hospital of the Holy Trinity, or 
 as it is called in some records, the Hospital of St. David or St. 
 Dewes. Baker puts the Hospital at " the east side of the entrance 
 into the village from Northampton, where several small arches are 
 still remaining in the cottage walls." When the Eambler in the 
 Year Book wrote his description, these arches were still existing, 
 but of late years tlie ruins have been greatly diminished. Mr. 
 Pretty ("'Wetton's Guide") says "the Hospital was no doubt 
 at the spot now occupied by the Blacksmith's shop," and he speaks 
 of the ruins to which Baker alludes, as " probably a relic of one of 
 the chapels attached to the Hospital. At that time (1849) they 
 consisted of a doorway, partly hid, and a window above, blocked 
 up, apparently of Decorated architecture. This conjecture is borne 
 out by Bridges, who says, " Tlie ruins of this hospital and nf one 
 of the chapels are still remaining."
 
 14 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 The story of the Hospital is well told by Baker. It was 
 founded, he says, " in 1200 (2 John), by the prior and convent of 
 St. Andrew's, Northampton, who, on the petition of Peter, the son 
 of Adam de Northampton, and Henry, his son, gave a certain house 
 near St. Da^dd's Chapel, within the limits of their parish of Thorpe, 
 for the reception of travellers and poor persons, under the following- 
 conditions and regulations : that there should not for the future be 
 any college of monks, canons, templars, hospitallers, or nuns in the 
 place, or the said house be changed into a church ; that Divine 
 Service might be performed therein, but that there should be two 
 altars only, one in the chapel of the holy Trinity, the other in the 
 chapel of St. David, and one bell only should be allowed ; that a 
 burial ground should be provided for travellers, poor people, and 
 others dwelling there, and that any of the parishioners might be 
 buried there on proof of their having requested it in their life time, 
 or expressed it in their will, but not otherwise ; that in the body of 
 the house adjoining the chapel of the holy Trinity there should be 
 three rows of beds joined together in length, in which the poor and 
 strangers and invalids may lie for the purpose of hearing mass, and 
 attending to the prayers more easily and conveniently ; that there 
 should be provided one pi'ocurator, chaplain, or clerk or layman of 
 good character, with the consent of the said prior and convent, or 
 of the abbot of Sulby, and all irregularities to be corrected by them 
 or the abbot, and any dispute arising between them as to the 
 appointment of a procurator, to be settled by arbitration; the 
 procurator to be elected by tliem and the abbot at the house in 
 Thorp, and to take a prescribed oath ; that there should be only 
 two chaplains besides the procurator, who are to take the same 
 oath ; that there might be six novices to wait upon the poor, so 
 that the whole number of officers in the house should not exceed 
 nine ; that the procurator and chaplains should have decent habits, 
 becoming their stations, and the novices should have habits all 
 alike, viz., capes and hoods and cloaks of black, without any ftiark 
 or ornament ; that it should not be united to any other house, nor
 
 KINGSTHORPE. 15 
 
 to any private person, contrary to the said statutes ; that the rents 
 and profits should not be converted to any other uses, or 
 diminished, but wholly applied to its benefit ; and in augmentation 
 thereof the said prior and convent gi-ant all the land in Thorpe 
 which Helias held of their fee of the church of Thorpe, viz., two 
 virgates, a messuage and croft, and common of pasture, with 
 consent of Henry, son of Peter (rector of St. Peter's), who now 
 holds of us the church of Thorpe, free from tithe ; but if the said 
 house obtain any other land in Thorpe, or any other parish, where 
 the said prior and convent are entitled to tithes, by gift, purchase, 
 or otherwise, all tithes arising therefrom shall be paid to the church 
 to which they are due, notwithstanding the aforesaid exemption." 
 
 The expressions, "■near St. David's chapel," and " in the body 
 of the hoiise adjoining the chapel of the Holy Trinity," seem quite 
 to confirm Mr. Pretty's view, that the ruins in the cottages near 
 the toll gate belonged to St. David's chapel. In the list of persons 
 presented as masters occurs the name of one William Richardson, 
 who, on the 25th February, 1570, was presented, but not 
 instituted, because he could not translate into English the two first 
 lines of the 2nd Epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians. In the 
 fourth of Philip and Mary the hospital, with all its lands and other 
 appurtenances, was granted by the King and Queen to Hugh 
 ZuUey, clerk. Tliey were afterwards held in lease from the Crown 
 by the family of the Morgans. In the State Paper Office is a grant 
 (1616) to Erancis Morgan, Francis Barnard, and others, of the fee 
 farm of the town of Kingsthorpe, at suit of the tenants rf 
 Kingsthorpe, who were heretofore obliged to renew their lease 
 every forty years on payment of increased rent. 
 
 Pursuing the road to its bifurcation, and taking the left or 
 Welford road, we come at the extremity of the buildings to the 
 " Court Farm." It asserts its title to this lordly appellation by an 
 entrance gateway of stone and a side doorway of the transition 
 period between the Gothic and the Renaissance. There used to be 
 a ball of stone on each of the piers, but they have now fallen from
 
 16 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT 
 
 tlieir hia-h estate. The farm buildinj^s within have traces of the 
 same period ; but of the history of the place, so far as we are 
 aware, there is no record. 
 
 You get into the heart of the viUage by many ways — by 
 streets, so called, full of quaint cottages half lost in greenery, and 
 old stone houses, that seem to tell of more prosperous times ; by 
 old, old walls, rich in ferns and lichens ; by narrow lanes, running 
 between low stone fences, which enclose gardens and orchards. 
 When you emerge into the wide space occupied by the village 
 Green, the scene is eminently rural, and when the writer in the 
 Year Book visited it it was still more so. Bright, sparkling springs 
 glittered in the sun ; ducks padtlled in the clear, cress-lined brook ; 
 a noble tree overspread the Green, and the " King's Well," never 
 known to freeze or to i;nl, bubbled up its abundant waters ; 
 south-westward, on a rising ground, is the Church, which used to 
 be neighboured by majestic elms. The tree on the Green is still 
 there, but it has not its old amplitude, and the springs are less 
 copious. One of them is but a mud pudding, and the brook is 
 but a remembrance of its former self. On the Green, so lately as 
 1722, a Quintain was erected, on the marriage of two servants at 
 Brington. The Quintain was originally a Eoman exercise, and it 
 became a popular sport in this country. On a high, upright post, 
 Avas a cross piece or a swivel, broad at one end and pierced full of 
 holes, and a bag of sand suspended at the other. A horseman, 
 armed with a blunted spear, ran a-tilt at this board ; he won the 
 prize if he split the board with the sharpness and dexterity of his 
 blow ; if he struck it merely with sufficient force to swing the cross 
 piece round, he stood a chance of being unhorsed with a heavy 
 blow from the sand-bag swinging round upon his neck. On the 
 occasion in question the reward of the victor was announced in the 
 Mercury thus : — " A fine garland is a crown of victory, which is 
 to be borne before him to the wedding house, and another to be 
 put round the neck of his steed : the victor is also to have the 
 honour of dancing with the bride, and to sit on her right hand ai
 
 KINGSTHORPE. 17 
 
 supper."" In Bridges' time there was a town house, consisting of 
 one long room, neatly built of stone, for the meeting of the 
 feoffees, who had a common seal, inscribed, " Sigillum Commune 
 de Kingsthorp," round a crowned head between two fleurs de lis. 
 It was afterwards converted into a workhouse. A bailiff used 
 formerly to be chosen by the freeholders, and he in Court used to 
 appoint a Lord and Lady of the May-games on Easter Day after 
 evensong. The custom had long been in disuse even in Bridges' 
 time : 
 
 " No, those days are gone away, 
 And their hours are old and grey, 
 And their minutes buried all 
 Under the down-trodden pall 
 Of the leaves of many years," 
 
 But it must have been a merry time once in Kingsthorpe, with 
 their May-games, and quintains, and bowling-greens, and coaches- 
 and-six. 
 
 In the Kingsthorpe Church there are traces of an earlier 
 church (Saxon probably) than the oldest of the Norman 
 work visible. It is the old old story of all our old churches 
 most of which go back to a very early time, and record every 
 stage of their transition. The Saxon rubble work in the head 
 of the window over the chancel arcade is very distinguishable from 
 the work which superseded it ; it is of the character of herring- 
 hone work, small stones set in mortar, a sort of conglomerate, 
 stones and mortar of equal hardness ; the latter work is in a great 
 measure set with no better stuff than mere road scrapings. These 
 windows were very deeply splayed, leaving an opening of but four 
 inches, and bearing no traces of having been glazed. The crypt 
 beneath the chancel has long been used as a charnel-house, and, 
 uutil recently, was filled with ghastly evidences of the contempt 
 wliich familiarity breeds for matters the most solemn. It was 
 a mound of bones of all sorts. You slipped yourself in at a 
 recently-opened doorway, and found yourself upon a heap of
 
 IS RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 crunching skulls, and bones in various stages of decay, and minia- 
 ture coffins of " chrysoms." You instinctively thought of Hamlet : — 
 
 " Hamlet : Has this fellow no feeling of his business ? He 
 sings at grave-making. 
 
 Horatio: Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness. 
 
 Hamlet : That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once. 
 How the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jawbone, 
 that did the first murder. * * * Here's fine revolution, an 
 we had the trick to see it. Did these bones cost no more the 
 breeding but to play at loggats with them ? Mine ache to think 
 on't. * * ■* Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer ? 
 Where be his quiddits now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and 
 his tricks ? Why does he sufi^er this rude knave now to knock him 
 about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his 
 action of battery ? " 
 
 These dealings with the relics of mortality are not com- 
 mendable. 
 
 " Blest be the mau that spares these stones. 
 And curst be he that moves my bones," 
 
 says Shakespeare's epitaph, and our instinct agrees with the 
 anathema. Let these elements of our humanity mingle with the 
 mother earth and perform their appointed part ; there is nothing 
 revolting or ungraceful in all that is mortal in our nature being 
 reproduced in herb and plant, but this heaping together of 
 multitudinous bones and skulls, some of them with the scalp and 
 the hair scarcely gone from them, gives one an involuntary 
 shudder. It was the custom, when a grave was opened, to shovel 
 the bones of its previous occupier into this charnel house, through 
 the window at the east end ; and children used to peep in, 
 " snatching a fearful joy," at the jumble of grim relics. Very 
 grateful we ai'e to those sanitary reformers who shut up the 
 overgorged churchyards, and put an end to these desecrations. 
 The crypt is now cleared, and the bones have been buried in a 
 pit at the north-east end of the churchyard. The crypt is ii.\
 
 KINGSTHORPE. 19 
 
 excellent preservation, and is of tlie Decorated period. From a 
 central pillar spring vaultings which rest upon eight responds in 
 the Avail. There is no trace of an entrance from the interior of the 
 church, yet the work is certainly too good to have been originally 
 intended for a charnel-house. 
 
 Our friend in the " Year-Book," having got down to the 
 Green, set about sketching it and the church, and forgot to pursue 
 his enquiries any further. So he says nothing about the Lanes, 
 and the Morgans and the Barnards, and the Cookes, the local 
 aristocracy of the traditionary coaches -and-six. Some of their 
 residences are easily traceable. The mansion of the Morgans was 
 situated east of the church where the stone casing of a door-way, 
 with the pediment above, and an alcove on either side, may still be 
 seen. It is described in an advertisement in the Northampton 
 Mercury of 1731, as " a very handsome, large, pleasant house, with 
 a very good close, gardens, stables, coach-house, dove -house, brew- 
 house, and other outhouses and conveniences thereunto adjoining, 
 being late the dwelling house of John Morgan, Esq., deceased." 
 This John Morgan was the last of the name. He left a daughter, 
 who was married to Sir John Robinson, of Cranford. She died at 
 the early age of 24, in 1734. We first meet with the Morgans m 
 the person of Judge Morgan, who died in 1558. There are remains 
 of the residence of the Lanes in the close at the back of the Cock 
 Inn. Sir Kichard Lane was Lord Keeper of the Great Seal in the 
 reign of Charles I. The Cookes had a mansion not far fi'om the 
 present residence of the Misses Boddiugton. On the right of the 
 lane leading to the mill, the dove house and other Imihiiiias, 
 indicative of an important structure, still remain. There is ;ilso an 
 avenue of elms, leading direct to the Green, which no doubt Avas 
 appurtenant to the mansion. The mansion of the Misses 
 Boddington was built by James Freraeaux, Esq., who took the 
 estates by his marriage Avith Margaret Cooke, and avIiosc grand- 
 daughter and heir was mamed to the late T. II. Tliorutoii, Esq., 
 of Brockhall. Mr. Freraeaux died in 1799, aged 95, aiid his wif(^
 
 20 GAMBLES KOUXDABOL'T. 
 
 ill 1801, aged 82. The beaiitiful grounds of the Misses 
 Boddiiigton are well known to the many who avail themselves of 
 the privilege of visiting them during the annual show of tin- 
 Kingsthoi-pe Horticultural Society. 
 
 " The lane leading to the mUl" — the words recall a truly 
 beautiful lane, overarched with lofty elms, and leading to a mill 
 which has often aiTested the attention of the artist. The path 
 continues over pleasant fields to Dallington. 
 
 We need not return to Northampton by the high road. There 
 arc other tracks ; one across fields nearly the whole way. But we 
 shall go by the beaten, yet pleasant, road, eastward, by Mr. 
 Tomalin's grounds, and debouching into the Ketteiing-road or over 
 the Race-course. This lane is very nu-al, bordered with untrimmed 
 hedges, bright with marsh mallows, and overhung with trees, 
 between which on either side are " long fields of barley and of 
 rye ;" and it is undulating and deviating enough to gladden the 
 sketcher's heart with its frequent pictiu'es. Down in its deepest 
 dell a brook crosses it, and there is a foot-bridge by the side. We 
 dare say the Eambler in the " Year Book" did not miss it, though 
 lie has said nothing about it. Rural as it now is, it was more rural 
 then, being scarcely a bridle way. You might sit there a long 
 summer's day with the birds alone for company. It is not greatly 
 frequented now, but there are indications of budding, and other 
 tokens 
 
 " That dreadful guests will come and spoil the solitude." 
 
 Meanwhile we commend it to our brother ramblers.
 
 k^Mp nitb figlj&ritirs. 
 
 " Such puffs about highioays ! " — Leigh Hunt. 
 
 " He loved heads with a diverting twist in them." — Charles Lamb. 
 
 LOVE to turn into a pleasant bye-way, 
 Half-overgrown with wUding flowers and grass, 
 And sweet brier, here and there, an odorous mass 
 And quaint old roots, twisted in many a wry way. 
 Par better I love this than the smooth highway, 
 Level as bowling-green or looking-glass, 
 Where, though from Dan to Beersheba you pass, 
 'Tis hard and barren all ; this is not my Avay. 
 
 So, too, I choose my friends and books ; I like 
 
 Quaint men who love quaint authors ; minds witli roots 
 
 Knobbed and twisted ; scrambling brieiy shoots 
 
 That catch you as you pass them by, yet strike 
 
 A wholesome fragrance out — something apart 
 
 From common place — a warm, yet rough and racy licjirt.
 
 gobforlr. 
 
 ^^^ODFORD is a village of sm-prises. Opposite the " Queen's 
 Head," on the Chester-road, about a mile and a-half 
 from Weedon, you descend at right angles with the main 
 road. The descent is rapid ; banks and tall trees fence 
 it in on either side. Within a few Imndred yards, you come 
 to a cluster of line lofty elms, and, turning short to the 
 left, you ascend a gravelled path, which brings you to the church- 
 yard. Crossing the churchyard diagonally towards the North- West 
 corner, you see beneath you, on the right, the Vicarage, a tall 
 mansion of the last century, and, East of it, a smaller, but still rather 
 large, building, dating from about the begiiming of the 17th century. 
 It is long and low, with a deep porch in the centre of the same height 
 as the building, and having rooms above it. Venerable evergreens 
 tower up in the South- Western angle ; climbing plants clothe and 
 adorn its walls ; and a spacious sweep of grassy lawn lies fair before it. 
 It is now a farm-house, occupied by Mr. Thomas Eussell, and looks 
 as if it were well cared for, and not subjected to the fancies of inno- 
 vation. The original door is still beneath the porch. 
 
 Leaving the chm'chyard by the corner gate already mentioned, 
 you enter a path fenced in by tall hedges, and rapidly descending. 
 It emerges, to your surprise, upon a gi-avelled space, where a skittle 
 board let into the ground indicates the neighbourhood of an inn. 
 Before you, a couple of willows stand upon the bank of a brook 
 Avhich runs rapidly past, and beneath a wooden foot bridge, rounding 
 the corner eastward. Just to the right is the corner of a very nistic 
 hostebicj and at its right angle swings its sign — " The Swan."
 
 DODFORD. 23 
 
 Even if the montli were not August, and tlie sunsliine not hot upon 
 your back, and your walk had not been a longish one, you might 
 be tempted to enter so clean and so secluded a resting-place, but, 
 combining all these arguments, the invitation is in-esistible. There 
 are rooms right and left : the " tap," we believe, is to the left. 
 We turn to the right, and passing a little private parlour, enter an 
 old-fashioned room, with seats all round, and a large, ample fire- 
 place. A casemented Avindow looks into a little garden that slopes 
 upwards, and is all flowers and shrubs. The neatness and cleanli- 
 ness of the place are an example for inn-parlours. In short, the 
 interior of " The Swan " more than realises the promise of its 
 exterior. If ever you relished a country crust of good bread and 
 excellent cheese, you will relish it here, and Mr. Foster's horae- 
 brew'd does credit to the house. The Swan is just the inn for the 
 bria-ht summer time. The scent of flowers fills the air, and the 
 brook babbles music as it flows. One thinks how balmy there the 
 night air must be, and how the little rill, as it tumbles over the 
 miniature dam, must realise Coleridge's verse — 
 
 " A noise like to a hidden brook 
 In the leafy mooth of June, 
 That to the sleeping woods all night 
 Singeth a quiet tune." 
 
 The waking up next morning, in such a spot, must be delicious. 
 But as we do not propose to take a bed at the Swan (if beds are to 
 be had there), and we have finished our glass, we bid our host 
 " Good day," and, crossing the little bridge, turn into the village. 
 Nothing can be more rural, not even the approaches to it. The 
 brook runs quite through it eastward, occupying the entire 
 roadway, and rippling over a bed of pure gravel. The southern 
 bank is all hedge and trees, and wild flowers and aquatic plants ; 
 the northern is the foot-path, or main street, and lying partly 
 under the wall of the vicarage garden. It is a pleasant saunter 
 truly. The stream, very shallow as it is, shows the small milky
 
 24 KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 stones wliidi waken it into song, and make it catch the sparkling 
 sunshine. The water- wagtails glance about — 
 
 " Sipping 'twixt their jerking dauce," 
 and a couple of ducks, white as the driven snow, seem to felicitate 
 themselves as " monarchs of all they survey." The cottages look 
 clean, and healthy, and cheerful, old, thatched, picturesque, and 
 whitewashed. 
 
 Morton said the inhabitants of Dodford were long-lived, 
 "generally living to 70 or 80." We do not know what later 
 statistics say to this ; but we do not see any reason to contradict 
 it. Dodford lies in a valley sheltered from extremes of cold, and a 
 running water is supposed to be healthy, reversing the conditions 
 and eifects of a stagnant stream, and maintaining a free circulation 
 of air. The testimony of the inhabitants is in this direction ; 
 people live to a good old age hereabouts they say, and the Anno 
 Domini seems the chief ailment; you don't hear of ague, nor 
 rheumatism. 
 
 Wliat is the etymology of Dodford ? In Doomsday -book it is 
 called Dodeford ; " so named, as I take it," says Fuller, " from a 
 Ford over the Avon (Nen), and Dods, water-weeds, commonly 
 called by children cat tails, growing hereabouts." Baker has no 
 hesitation in rejecting this explanation as puerile, but he confesses 
 that it would be no easy task to substitute one more rational. Mr. 
 Pretty (Wetton's Guide Book) suggests Dob, the Gaelic for stream, 
 and Ford, a shallow place in a river. The ford is obvious enough, 
 and " Dob" is singularly applicable to the place, the ford for some 
 distance following the stream instead of crossing it at right angles. 
 The " Stream-ford" is indisputably there. There is, of course, the 
 difficulty of the difference in the final letters of Dob and Dod : but 
 in former times letters did duty fbr each other in a very friendly 
 and free-and-easy sort of way. It must be admitted that there is 
 great ingenuity and probability in Mr. Pretty's suggestion, and that 
 he has accomplished the task which Baker thought so difficult, of 
 substituting a more rational etymology than Fuller's. At the
 
 DODFORD. 25 
 
 same tifhe rational etymologies are uot always to be looked for — 
 — -rational that is in the sense of obvious appropriateness. Trivial 
 eircumstances, no doubt, gave names to places in old as well as in 
 modern times. If " Dods" be the ante-Norman name of an aquatic 
 weed common along the course of the brook in question, we see no 
 inherent improbability in the ford acquiring a name from it. In 
 our own day very odd and very puerile circumstances govern the 
 naming of places. The Builder recently noticed the following 
 names in the neighbourhood of Camberwell and Dulwich — Eed- 
 post-hiD, Half Moon-lane, Dogkennel-lane, Goose-green, and Cut- 
 throat-lane ; at Wadsworth there are Matrimony-place, Lavender- 
 sweep, and Pig-hill-path. In this town we have a Quart-pot-lane 
 and a Narrow-toe-laue ; and Cut-throat-lanes abound in all parts, 
 rather, it would seem, from the convenience which they apparently 
 offer for that process than from any actual throat-cuttings in them. 
 Fuller's etymology of Dodford is not really more puerile than any 
 of these, though we do not know upon what authority he gives 
 " Dods" as the name of an aquatic plant there. Miss Baker's 
 Glossary does not help us. "Dod," she says, means a bog or 
 (juagmire, but this would hardly apply to the character of Dodford, 
 which is certainly not boggy, nor from the gravelly nature of the 
 soil should we suppose it likely ever to have been. 
 
 Dodford church is as much a surprise as the village. Its 
 exterior presents no feature to command special attention ; as usual 
 it has a variety of styles, the north aisle, which is Early English, 
 i)eing the oldest. Entering, however, by the north door you find 
 yourself in the midst of ancient tombs of great interest. In the 
 north chapel is the recumbent effigy of Sir William Keynes, who 
 died in 1344, cross legged, and in complete armour. He wears a 
 iiauberk of ringed mail, and with one hand he grasps his scabbard, 
 into which the other has just returned his sword. This noble 
 monument is of Purbeck marl^le, and in fine preseiwation, the hardness 
 of the material having withstood the wear and tear of upwards of five 
 (centuries, though from the lowness of the table the liabilities of the
 
 26 RAMBLES RODXDABOUT : 
 
 li^uve to injury clunn<:i^ that long period must have been great and 
 many. Farther easlwuril, on a hii'-h altar tomb of alabaster, lies 
 the effigy of Sir John Cressy, who died in 144-1. He is in complete 
 armour, excepting that his helmet lies beneath his head ; his hair 
 is cut short equally all round. On the ledge of the altar is the 
 inscription: — Hie jacet Johannes Cressy, miles d'nus isti yille 
 quondam capitani de Lycieux, Orbef et Pontiesque in Normandia 
 ac consiliarii d'ni regis in Francia — qui obiit apud Tove in Loreina 
 iijo dei Marcii anno d'ni MCCCCLliii. cuj' ani'e p'picietur deus. 
 Amen. In the north wall is a sepulchral decorated arch, with deep 
 mouldings, ornamented with the four-leaved flower characteristic 
 of the period. Beneath lies a wooden effig}^ of a female. " Her 
 head," to quote the accurate description of Baker, "rests on two 
 cushions — the under one square, the upper lozenge-shaped. She 
 has on a veil straight over her forehead and pendant to her shoulders, 
 uniting near the temples to a wimple, which covers the lower part 
 of her chin and the whole of her neck. Her vest hollowed out at 
 the side, and partially disclosing her kirtle and band conforms to 
 her shape down to the waist, and from thence descends in formal 
 perpendicular folds to her feet, which press on a mutilated animal." 
 Both the arms of this interesting figure are gone, and of the features 
 only the mouth remains. Closely adjoining this tomb is another, 
 on which is also a recumbent figure of a female, in stone. The 
 costume," says Baker, " bears a general resemblance to its 
 companion, but the veil is confined round the head with a fillet ; 
 there is no wimple, and the hair floAvs in ringlets to the top 
 of the vest, which is so low as to leave the neck wholly exposed. 
 Her head reposes on cushions sustained by two angels, and at her 
 feet is a mutdated animal. The front of the tomb is divided by 
 piers into five compartments, in which are alternately placed a 
 knisrht holdino: a sword and a female veiled." Baker thinks these 
 effigies represent the grand- daughter Wentiliana of the Sir William 
 Keynes, of whose tomb mention has just been made. Both these 
 ladies, however, died within a year of each other. Wentiliana in
 
 DODFOKD. 2/ 
 
 1375, aad Elizabeth in 1376, and there are some marked dill'ereiifes 
 in the costumes, which would seem to indicate a wider interval. 
 The wimple or gorget of the wooden figure belongs rather to the 
 reign of Edward I. or II., and the dress generally of the stone 
 effigy is that of the time of Edward III., though it is of course 
 quite possible that the garment may have extended until the later 
 time. The reign of Edward III. was remarkable for the variety of 
 its costume, and Elizabeth, who was 50 when she died, may have 
 adhered to the fashion of her younger days after it had been 
 abandoned by her younger contemporaries. We cannot endorse 
 the criticism of the historian in reference to the execution of these 
 monuments. The wooden figure he describes as "rude," and the 
 stone effigy as " no less rudely executed than the preceding." The 
 former is, in our opinion, a skilful and graceful carving ; the latter is 
 of inferior workmanship, the arms being disproportionately small — 
 a not imcommon error in the sculpture of the "time. But it can 
 scarcely be said to be " rudely " executed. Since Baker's time a 
 curious wall painting has been discovered in the wall space beneath 
 the canopy. It represents two angels supporting a dead body, 
 from which rises a small figure representative of the soul of the 
 deceased, with the hands in the attitude of prayer, and the head 
 looking upwards towards an outstretched hand descending from 
 the heavens. A shield is on either side, one charged with a cross, 
 the other with two bars, apparently gules. The arras of Keynes 
 were, vaire Argent and Azure, two bars gules ; of Sir Philip tie 
 Aylesbuiy, temp : Edward 3 ; Azure, a cross argent, Margaret, 
 daughter of Eobert de Keynes, of Milton Keynes, married in 1330, 
 4th Edward 3, this Sir Philip de Aylesbury, and died in 1349. Is 
 there not some evidence here that the wooden effigy may have been 
 intended for this Margaret. 
 
 Above this sepulchral arch is a monumental tablet to the 
 memory of John Wyrley, who Avas Sheriff of Northamptonshire, 
 and died in 1G55. It contrasts, not favourably, with the earlier 
 memorials by which it is neighboured. Those prostrate warriors,
 
 2S KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 " in the habit as they lived;" those stately ladies, uith hands 
 clasped in prayer; those pious supplications for God's mercy, 
 awaken feelings more in harmony with the sacred edifice than the 
 nude female caryatides, Avith one hand carrying three shields like 
 a bucket of water, and tlie other applied to the eyes like a 
 blubbering child. As mere ^vorks of art the later monument 
 has the advantage. The figures are skilfully scidptured, but their 
 unreal classicality ( " too much in the style of Eubens " ) has little 
 of the religious sentiment about it. 
 
 The churchyard contains nothing remarkable in the way of 
 monumental records, if we except a series of tomb-stones connected 
 ■with the family of the Hewitts, going back for a century and a 
 quarter. They have all been recently restored with care and 
 judgment. 
 
 The Manor of Dodford became connected with some eminent 
 names in the 17th century. In 1G77, Jane, daughter of Wm. 
 CoUey, Esq., of Glaiston, Eutland, a lord of the manor of 
 Dodford, married Cains Gabriel Gibber, the sculptor of the 
 celebrated figures of Eaving and Melancholy Madness at Bedlam, 
 and became the mother of CoUey Gibber, the poet laureate to 
 George II , and author of " The Careless Husband ; " she was 
 thus the grandmother of Theophilus Gibber, the actor, whose 
 second wife was sister of Dr. Arne, the composer of " Artaxerxes," 
 " Eule Britannia," the pretty music in " Love in a Vdlage," the 
 graceful setting of Ariel's lovely song — " Where the bee sucks," 
 and a host of other compositions, which constitiite in themselves 
 an English school of music. 
 
 At the entrance to the village, or a little below the five ebns 
 by which you turn up to the church, on a bank, is a cluster of very 
 old thatched cottages. In one of these is an oaken cupboard, with 
 the door pierced with apertures of the Perpendicular period. It "goes 
 with the house," and both are probably between three and four 
 hundred years old. The parish clerk lives in the cottage, and his 
 ju'edecessors in the ofl[ice may have lived there time immemorial.
 
 fines for t!]c |lg4caf d a giaru. 
 
 (Written about the year 1842^. 
 
 ECORDED here keep all the days 
 
 On which or friendship, love, or joy, 
 Shall cast the glory of its rays. 
 Leaving no shadow of annoy : 
 
 ]\Iake every page a fountain, bright 
 
 With happy thoughts, where memory 
 
 May come in summer's sunset light, 
 
 And drink refreshed, and blessing; thee. 
 
 "D 
 
 But if sad hours should come — (Alas 
 
 Dark storms will cloud the sunniest sky) — 
 
 Leave the blank white untouched, and pass 
 With hurried hand the spectre by. 
 
 Grief with its own stern hand Avill score 
 Its own stern record on the heart 
 
 With truth minute, — oh far before 
 Thine accurate pencil's happiest art. 
 
 No cause have thou to intermit 
 
 One day throughout the year's long rank, 
 Be every page of thine o'er-writ. 
 
 As mine will surely all be blank.
 
 gbout |a|n (Uixxl 
 
 -^Cj^ELPSTOX lies between six and seven miles N.N.W. of 
 -^44tv\ Peterborongb, on tbe Syston and Peterborongli brancli of 
 tlie Midland Eailvvay, the station being about half a mile 
 from the town. A not unpicturesque country lies about 
 it, though its beauty is somewhat of the Dutch character, 
 far-stretching distances, level meadows, intersected with 
 gi-ay willows and sedgy dikes, frequent spires, substantial water 
 mills, and farm houses of white stone, and cottages of white stone 
 also. Southward, a belt of wood with a gentle rise beyond, redeems 
 it from absolute flatness. Entering the town by the road from the 
 east you come to a cross, standing in the midst of four ways. On 
 a base of four steps stands an octangular structure panelled, Avith 
 angular heads crocketted and with finials, and crocketted pinnacles 
 between each angle. The cornice is battlemented. From the centre 
 rises a tall thin octangular spire. Before you and to the left 
 stretches the town, consisting of wide streets or roadways, with 
 irregular buildings on either side, interspersed with gardens now 
 lovely with profuse blooms of laburnam and lilac. To ihe right is 
 tlie Church, on a rising ground, commanding from the churchyard, 
 a general view from the town. The Church, dedicated to St. Botolph, 
 is a singular structure of all styles of architecture. It has a tower, 
 nave, north and south aisles, and a large chancel. The lower stage 
 of the tower is Norman ; the upper corners having been canted off, 
 the next stage is octagonal, with Decorated windows, from whicli 
 rises a stunted sexagonal spire with blind dormer-like windows of 
 the Perpendicular period. Excepting the south porcli, which is
 
 ABOUT JOHN CLARE. 31 
 
 Decorated, there is no feature of interest in tlie rest of the exterior. 
 The interior is better than the outside. The tower arch is carrieil 
 on Nortnan semi-pillars, three on each side. The nave is separated 
 from the aisles by Early English arches, three on each side ; the 
 chancel arch is of the same period. The chancel, which is large, 
 has some very interesting features. On the north are three sedilia, 
 and on the south are three others and a piscina with double water 
 drain and credence shelf. These sedilia are Early English, and very 
 elegant ; trefoil headed arches beautifully mpulded are siipported on 
 clustered pillars, disengaged. On the altar steps are curious frag- 
 ments of designs in tesseree ot vari-coloured stone. There are lonfj^ 
 stone seats in the chancel, with elbows grotesquely carved. The 
 c'.iancel is ceiled so as to cut off the head of the east window. lu 
 the north aisle is a slab bearing an inscription which even in 
 Bridges' day was so dilapidated that only the Christian name and 
 two letters of the surname were traceable. It is given thus : — ICI : 
 GIST : ROGER : DE : HE . . . . DE : KY : ALME : 
 DEU . . . E : KY : PUR : SA : ALME : PRIERA . . 
 JOURS : DE : PARDON : AVERA. It seems not unlikely that 
 the missing portions may be thus filled in : — Ici gist Roger de 
 Hecham de ky alme Den eit pitie. Ky pur sa altne priera quarante 
 jours de pardon avera — " Here lies Roger de Hecham, on whose soul 
 may God have mercy. Whoever shall pray for his soul shall have 
 forty days of indulgence." Roger de Hecham, or Highara, was 
 patron of the living in 1296. In the middle of the 18th century 
 there was a maker of monuments at Peterborough, named John 
 Loveing, who seems to have done a tolerable stroke of business at 
 Helpston. The tomb-stone sculpture of that day was none of the 
 choicest either in design or execution, but we do not remember tu 
 have seen anything so ludicrously bad as the art of John Loveing. 
 Some specimens in this chancel make one open one's eyes with 
 astonishment. His cherubim look as if he had got his grandfather 
 to sit as a model. Here you see the old man with the expressi(jii 
 of the mouth of one who seems amused at the absurdity of his
 
 32 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 occupation, wliile the adjoining countenance marks the weariness 
 and disgust of the sitter. The stone, which is adorned with tin- 
 two heads just described, bears the following inscription : 
 
 " Here lies Interr'd the Body of Henery VVatkin. Obijt September 1 S 
 Anno Domini, 1733, /Etatis Suec 63. 
 
 Afore Desease his skin Orespread 
 
 which pierst unto his heart 
 and now he lies amongst ye dead 
 
 but free from pain and smart. 
 
 Jchn Loveing, Peterboro' ferit." 
 
 One cannot help suspecting from the quatrain that John uuitc^d 
 in liis own person the vocations of physician and poet, as well as 
 that of tomb-stone cutter. His mantle seems to have fallen on his 
 descendants, for there is in the same chancel some golden-haired 
 cherubs bearing the same family likeness and the same marked 
 genius for tlie bad and the ludicrous. 
 
 In the churchyard is a stone to the memory of Clare's mother, 
 with this inscription — • 
 
 " Sacred to the memory of Ann, wife of Parker Clare, died Dec. 18, 1835, 
 in the 78th year of her age. 
 
 From off my bed of pain and grief 
 
 The Lord hath set me free. 
 And crown'd me with a heavenly wreath ; 
 
 A happy change for me." 
 
 So recently as 1824 an epitaph was admitted into the churcli- 
 yard with such literature upon it as below : 
 
 " Upon the Road I met cold Death, 
 "U'hich soon reliev'd me of my breath. 
 It was a sudden death you no (sic) 
 For God had set my time to go. 
 Weep not, dear friends, it is in vain, 
 Your loss is my eternal gain." 
 
 The first two lines were evidently suggested to the poet by a 
 highway robbery. " Cold Death" is the highwayman, who in 
 ordinary newspaper phraseology " relieved him" of his property.
 
 JfOHN CLAER. 33! 
 
 Clai'e''s sonnet, " Helpstone Chui'chyard " may be fitly 
 introduced here : — 
 
 " What makes me love thee now, thou dreary scene, 
 
 And see in each swell'd heap a peaceful bed ? 
 I well remember that the time has been 
 
 To walk a churchyard when I used to dread ; 
 And shudder'd, as I read upon the stone 
 
 Of well-known friends and next-door neighbours gone. 
 But then I knew no cloudy cares of life. 
 
 Where ne'er a sunbeam comes to light me through ; 
 A stranger theu to this world's storm and strife. 
 
 Where ne'er a charm is met to lull my sorrow ; 
 I then was blest and had not eyes to see 
 
 Life's future change, and Fate's severe to-morrow ; 
 When all those ills and paius should compass me. 
 
 With no hope left but what I meet in thee." 
 
 The cottage in which John Clare was born is in the main 
 street running south. The views of it which illustrate his poems. 
 are not very axcurate. They represent it as standing alone, when 
 it is in fact and evidently always has been a cluster of two if not ; 
 of three tenements. There are three occupations now. It is on the 
 west side of the street, and is thatched. In the illustration to the 
 second volume of "The Village Minstrel" (1821), an open stream 
 runs before the door, which is crossed by a plank. Modern 
 sanitary regulations have done aivay with this if it ever existed, and 
 was not a fancy of the artist. Neither this etching, nor the wood- 
 cut to the " Eural Muse" (1835) gives the bow window, which may 
 have indicated the principal room, or perhaps a small shop. 
 Helpstone is probably a good deal changed from what it was in Clare's 
 early day ; new and rather imposing houses have been built, the 
 Green is destroyed at the Southern extremity of the village, where 
 also there was a pond, into which it is possible the stream whicli 
 the artist in the view alluded to has represented as running before 
 Clare's Cottage, may have drained. Clare, whose local attachments 
 were intense, bewails in indignant verse the demolition of the 
 Green : 
 
 C
 
 34 KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT. 
 
 " Ye injur'd fields, ye once were gay, 
 
 Wheu Nature's baud displayed 
 Long waving; rows of willows grey 
 
 And clumps of hawthorn shade ; 
 But now, alas ! your hawthorn bowers 
 
 All desolate we see. 
 The spoiler's axe their shade devours. 
 
 And cuts down every tree. 
 Not trees alone have owned their force, 
 
 "Whole woods beneath them bow'd ; 
 They turn'd the winding rivulet's course. 
 
 And all thy pastures plough'd." 
 
 The first poem in his first volume is in the same strain : — 
 
 " Hail, scenes obscure ! so near and dear to me — 
 The church, the brook, the cottage, and the tree : 
 Dear native spot! while length of time endears; 
 The sweet retreat of tweuty lingering years. 
 
 ***** 
 
 These joys, all known in happier infancy, 
 And all I ever knew, were spent in thee ; 
 And who but loves to view where these were past ? 
 And who that views but loves them to the last ? 
 Feels his heart warm to view his native place ? 
 A fondness still these past delights to trace ? 
 The vanish'd green to mourn, the spot to see 
 Where flourish'd many a brook and many a tree ? 
 Where once the brook — for now the brook is gone — ' 
 O'er pebbles dimpling sweet, went whimpering on ; 
 Oft on whose oaken plank I've wondering stood 
 (That led a pathway o'er its gentle dood) 
 To see the beetles their wild mazes run 
 With jetty jackets glittering in the sun : 
 ■ So apt and ready at their reels they seem 
 So true the dance is figured iu the stream." 
 
 Helpstone was unknown to fame before Clare sang it, as 
 " Sweet Auburn " was before Goldsmith charmed the three
 
 JOHN CLARE. 35 
 
 kingdoms witli tlie beauties of that * loveliest village of tlie 
 plain " — 
 
 " Caret quia vate sacro." 
 or as Clare in the vernacular gives it : — 
 
 "Hail, humble Helpstone ! where thy vallies spread 
 And thy mean village lifts its lowly head ; 
 Unknown to grandeur and unknown to fame ; 
 No minstrel boasting to advance thy name ; 
 Unlettered spot ! unheard in poet's song ; 
 Where bustling labour drives the hours along ; 
 Where dawning genius never met the day ; 
 Where useless ignorance slumbers life away." 
 Not a flattering exordium : but the rest is all eulogy of the natui-al 
 beauties of the place, and denunciation of its spoilers. Clare's 
 remains are fitly buried in conformity with his expressed wishes, all 
 leatling to his native " Home of Homes." Connecting with his 
 melancholy later history the following early lines, there is something 
 very touching in their affectionate and vain aspiration : — 
 " Thou dear beloved spot ! may it be thine 
 To add a comfort to my life's decline. 
 When this vain world and I have nearly done, 
 And Time's drain'd glass has little left to run ; 
 When all the hopes that charm'd me once are o'er. 
 To warm my soul in extacy no more, 
 By disappointments prov'd a foolish cheat. 
 Each ending bitter and beginning sweet ; 
 When weary age the g-ave a rescue seeks. 
 And prints its image on my wrinkled cheeks, — 
 Those charms of youth that I again may sec. 
 May it be mine to meet my end in thee ; 
 And as reward for all my ti-oubles past. 
 Find one hope true — to die at home at last. 
 
 Clare's removal to Northborough, well intended as it was, was 
 not fortunate in its results. Although but three miles distant 
 from Helpstone, he bewails the change as if he had been exiled to 
 tlie Antipodes. Almost the last poem in his last volume is a 
 lament " On leaving the cottage of his Birth." The verses record
 
 S6 KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 no " idly feigned poetic pains" ; they are evidently the effusion of 
 a heartfelt sadness. We must quote some passages : — 
 
 " I've left my own old Home of Homes, 
 
 Green fields and every pleasant place ; 
 The summer like a stranger comes, 
 
 I pause — and hardly know her face. 
 
 I miss the heath, its yellow furze, 
 
 Mole-hills and rabbit-tracks, that lead 
 
 Through besom-ling and teasel burrs 
 That spread a wilderness indeed. 
 
 The woodland oaks, and all below 
 
 That their white powder'd branches shield. 
 The mossy paths — the very crow 
 
 Croaks music in my native field. 
 
 I sit me in my corner chair. 
 
 That seems to feel itself alone ; 
 I hear fond music — here and there 
 
 From hawthorn-hedge and orchard come. 
 
 I hear — but all is strange and new ; 
 
 I sat on my old bench last June, 
 The sailing puddock's shrill ' pee-lew,' 
 
 O'er Royce wood seemed a sweeter tune. 
 
 I walk adown the narrow close. 
 The nightingale is singing now ; 
 
 But like to me she seems at loss 
 
 Tor Royce wood and its shielding bough. 
 
 I lean upon the window sill. 
 
 The trees and summer happy seem. 
 
 Green, sunny green they shine — but still 
 My heart goes far away to dream
 
 JOHN CLARE. 37 
 
 Of happiness — and thouglits arise 
 
 With home-bred pictures many a one — 
 Green lanes that shut out burning skies. 
 
 And old crook'd stiles to rest upon. 
 * * * 
 
 I dwell on trifles like a child — 
 
 I feel as ill becomes a man. 
 And yet my thoughts like vveedlings wild 
 
 Grow up and blossom where they can." — 
 
 Is there not in tliese last lines soraetliing like a forecast of the 
 calamity that was so soon to manifest itself? Home sickness 
 surely never more nearly became monomania. 
 
 Helpstone derives its name from Helpo, a stipendiary knight, 
 of whom we know nothing more. Future time will know it better 
 in its intimate connection with the poetry of poor John Clare. 
 
 From Helpstone, where Clare was born, to Northborough, 
 where he last resided in a home of his own, the distance is but 
 three miles. A pleasant three miles ; along a road level and far- 
 stretching, with the tall slender spire of Glinton in the distance ; 
 through the pretty village of Etton; and along "the bank," one 
 of those works peculiar to the country, constructed for the purpose 
 of directing and governing the flood waters. Before we speak of 
 Northborough let us say a word or two of these objects of interest 
 by the way. 
 
 Etton is one of those nestling villages which, with no pretence 
 to scenery, properly so called, suggest to us that 
 
 — " if there's peace to be had in this woild 
 A heart that is humble might hope for it here." 
 The church is not large, but has features of much interest. 
 An Early English or late Norman tower carries a broach spire. 
 Bound the tower runs a curious corbel table with a great diversity 
 of corbels ; heads, Fleur de Lis, the dog tooth, and oddest of all, 
 on the south side, a figure lying lengthwise, extremely rude in form 
 but apparently intended for a Crusader wearing the flat-topped 
 cylindrical helmet. A nave, with large quatrcfoil windows in the
 
 40 BAMBLDS B,0U:NDAB0UT : 
 
 at the west end n^ith a wall diminisliing as it rises by stages, and 
 ending in a double bell-cot containing two bells. The blankness 
 of the wall is relieved by buttresses, and there is a west window to 
 each aisle, but not to the nave. In the porch is a stoup for holy 
 water. Against the wall of the south aisle is a recess, canopied by 
 two pointed arches with deep mouldings, and directly opposite, in 
 the wall of the north aisle, is another, under two trefoil heads 
 with a quatrefoil in the intersection. The Claypole aisle oi chapel 
 is a large addition to a small church. It has two low arched 
 recesses in the south wall, and a piscina in the south-east corner. 
 Against the east wall are two elaborate perpendicular canopies, 
 with brackets beneath, upon which, in all probability, statues once 
 stood. An altar tomb against the east wall, at the northern end, 
 with an arch over, supported by columns, bears on an escutcheon a 
 chevron between three roundles, with the inscription — 
 
 ALL . GOOD . BLESSIN 
 
 GS . VNTO . MAN 
 
 COMETH . PROM . THE . 
 
 On one of the columns are the initials ^,V and on the other i;, 
 
 LL 94 . 
 
 In the south-west corner of the chapel is a doorway, which opens 
 
 upon stone stairs ascending and descending : the latter leading to a 
 
 sort of crypt or bone-house, with grated openings ; the former to 
 
 one of the tuiTets and the roof. A door midway opens upon the 
 
 sill of the large window in the chapel, which has a cori-esponding 
 
 Avooden door in the opposite jamb. This latter opens only into a 
 
 recess. What the purpose of these doors could be we do not know. 
 
 Bridges states that the entries in the register from 1613 to 
 
 1646 are torn out, and the following memorandum inserted in it : — 
 
 " The reason of this defect in the register vvas because Mr. John Cleypole , 
 a factious gentleman, then living in the parish of Northborough, caused the 
 register to be taken away from mee, John Stoughton, then rector ; for which I 
 was, by the ecclesiastical court then holden at St. Martin's, adjudged for 
 satisfaction the summe of two pounds ten shillings.
 
 JOHN CLARE. 41 
 
 " The 'money was paid at the charge of the parish by Robert Cooke, then 
 churchwardea. 
 
 " Sic testator, 
 
 "Johannes Stoughton, 
 
 « Kect. ibm." 
 
 John StougMon was inducted rector November, 1659, and held 
 the living till March, 1695, when he died. The manor of North- 
 borough became the property of the Claypoles by purchase in 1599, 
 and John Claypole, who married one of the daughters of the 
 Protector, would seem to be the " factious gentleman " spoken of 
 by the rector in this curious memorandum. What his object could 
 be in mutilating the record, Mr. Stoughton does not tell us ; nor is 
 it easy to understand what title the rector had to receive satisfaction 
 at the cost of the parish for an injury done to the parish property. 
 Four of Clare's children are buried in the churchyard. 
 
 Northborongh is a large village — not in the sense of its number 
 of houses or its population — but of the space of ground which it 
 covers. The houses are mostly cottages, half hidden in orchards 
 and luxuriant gardens, having a prodigality of ground. There is 
 not an eminence loftier than a mole-hill throughout, yet the spacious 
 roads and the wealth of trees and flowers make it a very picturesque 
 and happy-looking locality. Clare's cottage stands in the midst of 
 ample grounds. You enter from the road by a gate, and proceeding 
 up a roadway, find the cottage with its front turned fi'om the road, 
 southward. The cottage was built for Clare by the kindness of the 
 Earl Fitzwilliam, and it was at Clare's express desire that it has a 
 southern aspect. Altogether it answers the ideal which the Poet 
 sketched in the verses we quoted above. It is a real cottage — not 
 the " cottage of gentility " which Coleridge satirized — but very 
 comfortable, and homely, and rural. The roof is thatched, the 
 windows are casemented, roses climb the wall, and there is a seat 
 outside. In the pleasant and spacious garden are two yews trimmed 
 into mdlstone-like circles and cones after the fashion of our fore- 
 fathers. Poor Clare himself taught his sous how to shape these
 
 42 RAMBLES KOUNDABOUT : 
 
 trees, giving his instructions in the topiary art as he sat on the 
 garden seat. With tliese exceptions the garden is thoroughly a 
 cottage garden, luxuriant, and free, and compound — flower, orchard, 
 and vegetable intermingling in friendly and informal sociality. 
 TVithia are snug and comfortable rooms, with cupboards for the 
 books, all you might suppose that a mind like Clare's, unambitious 
 of elbowing rank and fashion, and finding his enjoyment in the 
 recesses of poetic feeling, and association with the woods, and 
 fields, and flowers, would revel in. About the walls hang pictures 
 connected in one way or another with the Poet ; a beautiful portrait 
 in water colours, from which the print prefixed to the Village 
 Minstrel was engraved ; an Indian ink drawing, from which was 
 engraved the frontispiece to the " Shepherd's Calendar ;" a clever 
 Indian ink drawing of Helpstone Church, by Mr. Simpson, an artist 
 of Stamford, and a friend of Clare's ; prints of the Earl Spencer, 
 the gi'andfather of the present Earl, and of other patrons. Yet, as 
 we have said, to this pleasant place poor Clare never took kindly. 
 In no respect can his Helpstone home compare with this of North- 
 borough, excepting that the latter was wanting in early associations, 
 and this want with Clare seems to have been fatal. The malady, 
 however, which clouded so large a portion of his life manifested 
 itself before he went to Northborough. It is a great question 
 whether it was not connected with his organization, growing with 
 his growth, and strengthening with his strength. He may be cited 
 as a remarkable instance in support of Dryden's famous couplet : 
 
 " Great wits are sure to madness near allied. 
 And thin partitions do their bounds divide." 
 
 At Helpstone he used to bury himself in the woods throughout the 
 day ; and it Avas the hope of diverting his increasing moodiness 
 that suggested his removal to Northborough, where it was thought 
 the occupation of a little land would afford him a healthy excitement. 
 When the time came, however, that he was to leave Helpstone, he 
 showed the strongest reluctance to quit his " home of homes ;" 
 such a reluctance, that at one time Mrs. Clare thought she would be
 
 JOHN CLAEE. 43 
 
 compellecT to resign the Nortliborougli cottage, and return to 
 Helpstone. Pie was brought over at length by the kind compidsion 
 of a friend. Yet at this time his poetical powers may be said to have 
 culminated. His best verses were written at this period — those 
 most remarkable for refinement of thought, truth of colouring, and 
 closeness of expression. Among his books carefully kept by his 
 widow are several presentation copies — one (Doddridge's Family 
 Expositor) from Mr. Taylor, Clare's first publisher and kind friend 
 always ; another from Lord Eadstock, with this entry : — " The gift 
 of Admiral Lord Eadstock to his dear and excellent freind, John 
 Clare, Aug. 1, 1822;" a copy of the first edition of Keat's 
 Endymion has written in it " John Clare, Helpstone, 1821." 
 
 The story of John Clare's life may be briefly told. He was 
 bom at Helpstone, in this county, on the 13th of July, 1793, and 
 was the only son of Parker and Ann Clare, of that place. His 
 father was a farmer's labourer. A poetical imagination manifested 
 itself in John Clare at a very early age, from hearing his father 
 read to him a poem which he used to say he thought was one of 
 Pomfret's, though in after life he could not connect any poem 
 of that author with the fauit impression of it which he retained. 
 He paid for his own schooling, by extra work as a ploughboy and 
 thresher. His schoolmaster was a Mr. Seaton, of Clinton, an 
 adjoining parish, who seems to have been very kind and liberal to 
 him, giving him occasional rewards. One of his earliest favourites 
 was " Kobinson Crusoe." When he was thirteen years of age a 
 boy showed liim Thomson's " Seasons," which so excited his 
 feeling for poetry, that he could not rest till he had accumulated a 
 shilling with which to purchase a copy for himself. On a fine 
 spring morning he set out for Stamford to buy the coveted 
 treasure, and arrived there before any of the shops were open. 
 His first poem is said to have been composed oa his walk home 
 through Burghley Park. His early education did not extend to 
 writing or arithmetic, for both of which he was indebted to an 
 Excise officer — Mr. John Turnill — then at Helpstone. In 1817
 
 44. KAJIBLES UOUNDABOUT : 
 
 he Avas employed at Bridge Casterton, in Eutlandsliire, at nine 
 shillings a week, and here he fell in love with Martha Turner, the 
 daughter of a cottage farmer, who afterwards became his wife. 
 Love seems to have stimulated him to the endeavour to turn his 
 poetical faculty to pecuniary account, and he contrived to get three 
 hundred copies of a prospectus printed, which obtained him but 
 seven subscribers. Indirectly, hoAvever, it led to the accomplishment 
 of his object. He had appended to it a specimen sonnet, and a 
 copy having accidentally fallen into the hands of Mr. Edward 
 Drui-y, a bookseller at Stamford, through his intervention the MS. 
 of the proposed volume was put into the hands of Messrs. Taylor 
 and Hessey, who liberally gave Clare £20 for it, and published 
 it in 1820. These early poems are remarkable, considering the 
 circumstances under which they were written, for their powers of 
 description, for their enjoyment of Nature, for their refinement of 
 expression, and for their maturity of rhythm and general accuracy 
 of rhyme. There is in them little evidence of imitation, though 
 one can scarcely doubt that the writer of " Helpstone " had read 
 " The Deserted Village." The hunting song, " To-day the Pox 
 must Die," is obviously an echo of the fine old song, once so 
 popidar, beginning, " Bright Chanticleer proclaims the Morn," 
 with its refrain, " To-day a Stag must Die." " Crazy Nell," 
 too, reminds us of Southey's celebrated " Mary the Maid of the 
 Inn." The volume was favourably reviewed in the Quarterly 
 Review ; and in the London Magazine by Mr. Gilchiist, of 
 Stamford ; and in 1821 two more voliunes were published by 
 Messrs. Taylor and Hessey, which shewed a considerable advance 
 over the first. The form of the principal poem, " The Village 
 Minstrel," seems to have been suggested by Beattie's " Minstrel," 
 but there is no absolute imitation. Many of the miscellaneous 
 poems in these two volumes are very beautiful. We may point 
 especially to the verses after reading " Proposals for Building a 
 Cottage " :
 
 JOHN CLARE. 45 
 
 Beside a runnel build my shed 
 
 With stubbles cover'd o'er; 
 Let broad oaks o'er its chimney spread. 
 
 And grass-plats grace the door. 
 
 The door may open with a string. 
 
 So that it closes tight ; 
 And locks would be a wanted thing 
 
 To keep out thieves at night. 
 
 A little garden, not too fine, 
 
 Inclose with painted pales ; 
 And woodbines round the cot to twine, 
 
 Pin to the wall with nails. 
 
 Let hazels grow, and spindling sedge 
 
 Bent bowering overhead ; 
 Dig old-man's-beard from woodland hedge. 
 
 To twine a summer-shade. 
 
 Beside the threshold sods provide 
 
 And build a summer seat ; 
 Plant sweet-briar bushes by its side. 
 
 And flowers that blossom sweet. 
 
 I love the sparrow's ways to watch 
 
 Upon the cotter's sheds, 
 So here and there pull out the thatch, 
 
 That they may hide their heads. 
 
 And as the sweeping swallows stop 
 
 Their flights along the green. 
 Leave holes within the chimuey-top 
 
 To paste their nests between. 
 
 Stick shelves and cupboards round the hut 
 
 In all the holes and nooks : 
 Nor in the corner fail to put 
 
 A cupboard for the books.
 
 46 IIAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 Along the floor some sand I'll sift, 
 
 To make it fit to live in ; 
 And then I'll thank ye for the gift. 
 
 As something worth the giving. 
 
 These pleasant verses in a striking manner mark the simple 
 ;uid thoroughly rural nature of the poet. For grandeur he not 
 only did not care, but it was utterly distasteful to him. To 
 wander about his native fields, and find in them the poems which 
 made the happiness of his life, was all he desired. When he 
 became for a time a wonder in the fashionable world he was 
 bewildered, and when dinner was over he woidd rise, thrust his 
 hands in his pockets, and saying, "Well, I'll goo" — "goo" 
 accordingly. He never exulted at having " dinner'd wi' a lord," 
 not from any disrespect towards lords, but because the humblest 
 meal with the fields and birds about him, and the blue sky over- 
 head, was to him far more congenial than all the splendours 
 of artificial life. He had, indeed, no reason for not holding the 
 aristocracy in grateful respect, for the noblemen connected with the 
 county were very kind to him, and conferred upon him substantial 
 benefits. The Marquis of Exeter, Earl Eitzwilliam, Earl Spencer, 
 the Duke of Bedford, Prince Leopold, the Earl of Cardigan, 
 the Duke of Northumberland, the Earl of Winchelsea, the Earl 
 Brownlow, Lord John Eussell, the Earl Eivers, the Earl Manvers, 
 the Earl of Egremont, Lord Kenyon, Lord Northwich, and Lord 
 Eadstock were among a number of subscribers to a fund which 
 ultimately produced for him an independent income of £40 a-year. 
 At one time he engaged in farming, with ill success. He was, in 
 truth, wholly unfitted for business which required competition with 
 his fellow men. His mind was active enough, but not in the 
 direction by which money is made. 
 
 In 1827 he published " The Shepherd's Calendar and other 
 Poems," a still farther advance on his previous pidjlications ; and 
 in 1835 a small volume entitled "The Eural Muse," the last and 
 best of all. It is full of exquisite pictures of rural life and scenery,
 
 JOHN CLARE. 47 
 
 liaiutecl with a mature and masterly hand. " The Pettichap's Nest," 
 is as lovely a little poem in its way as our language possesses : 
 
 Well ! in my many walks I've rarely found 
 A place less likely for a bird to form 
 Its nest — close by the rut-gulled waggon-road, 
 And on the almost bare foot-trodden ground. 
 With scarce a clump of grass to keep it warm ! 
 Where not a thistle spreads its spears abroad. 
 Or prickly bush, to shield it from harm's way ; 
 And yet so snugly made, that none may spy 
 It out, save peradventure. You and I 
 Had surely passed it in our walk to-day, 
 Had chance not led us by it ! — Nay, e'en now. 
 Had not the old bird heard us ti'ampling bye, 
 Aud fluttered out, we had not seen it lie. 
 Brown as the road-way side. Small bits of hny 
 Plucked from the old propt haystack's pleachy brow. 
 And withered leaves, make up its outward wall, 
 Which from the guarl'd oak-dotterel yearly fall. 
 And in the old hedge-bottom rot away. 
 Built like an oven, through a little hole. 
 Scarcely admitting e'en two fiugers in. 
 Hard to discern, the birds snug entrance win. 
 'Tis lined with feathers warm as silken stole. 
 Softer than seats of down for painless ease. 
 And full of eggs scarce bigger even than peas 1 
 Here's one most delicate, with spots as small 
 As dust, and of a faint and pmky red. 
 — Well I let them be, and Safety guard them well ; 
 For Fear's rude paths arouud are thickly spread. 
 And they are left to many dangerous ways. 
 A green grasshopper's jump might break the shells. 
 Yet lowing oxen pass them mom nnd night. 
 And restless sheep around them hourly stray ; 
 Aud no grass springs but hungry horses bite. 
 That trample past them twenty times a day. 
 Yet, like a miracle, in Safety's lap 
 They still abide unhurt, and out of sight. 
 — Stop ! here's the bird — that woodman at the g;i])
 
 48 RAMBLES KOUNDABOUT : 
 
 Prighteued him from the hedge : — 'tis olive-green. 
 
 Well ! I declare it is the Pettichap ! 
 
 Not bigger thaa the wren, and seldom seen. 
 
 I've often found her nest in chance's way. 
 
 When I in loathless woods did idly roam ; 
 
 But never did I dream until to-day 
 
 A sijot like this would be her chosen home. 
 
 Equally beautiful is " The Niglitiiigale's Nest," in which the 
 fruitless search for the warbling bird is charmingly described ; 
 
 " I watched in vain. 
 
 The timid bird had left the hazel bush 
 And at a distance hid to sing again ; 
 Lost in a wilderness of listening leaves." 
 
 The nest is found at length -. — 
 
 " These harebells all 
 
 Seem bowing with the beautiful in song ; 
 
 And gaping cuckoo-flower, with yellow leaves. 
 
 Seems blushing of the singing it has heard." 
 ***** 
 
 " Deep adown 
 The nest is made, a hermit's mossy cell. 
 Snug lie her curious eggs, in number five. 
 Of deaden'd green or rather olive brown ; 
 And the old prickly thorn-bush guards them well. 
 So here we'll leave them, still unknown to wrong, 
 As the old woodland's legacy of song." 
 
 Not long after the publication of this charming little volume, 
 to which Clare's fame as a poet may be safely entrusted, the 
 hallucination commenced which gi'adually increased until the sad 
 necessity came of subjecting to restraint a natiu-e as little calculated 
 to endure it as that of the bird Avhom he describes so appreciating ly. 
 Poor Clare : In this very volume he says : — 
 
 " I love to walk the fields ; they are to me 
 A legacy no evil can destroy." 
 
 Little did he imagine how dire an evil was even then threatening
 
 JOHN CLARE. 49 
 
 him, destflied ultimately to remove him from all that he loved so 
 dearly, and to deprive him even of the legacy which he fancied 
 indestructible. 
 
 Clare died on the 3ith May, 1864, in the Northamptonshire 
 Lunatic Asylum, of which he had been an inmate for many years ; 
 and was buried on the following Wednesday in the churchyard of 
 his beloved Helpstone, thus realizing his early wish to rest in his 
 " own old Home of Homes." 

 
 48 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 Frigliteued liim from the hedge : — 'tis olive-green. 
 
 Well ! I declare it is the Pettichap ! 
 
 Not bigger thaa the wren, and seldom seen. 
 
 I've often found her nest in chance's way. 
 
 When I in pathless woods did idly roam ; 
 
 But never did I dream until to-day 
 
 A spot like this would be her chosen home. 
 
 Equally beautiful is " The Nightingale's Nest," in which the 
 fruitless search for the warbling bird is charmingly described ; 
 
 " I watched in vain. 
 
 The timid bird had left the hazel bush 
 And at a distance hid to sing again ; 
 Lost in a wilderness of listening leaves." 
 
 The nest is found at length : — 
 
 " These harebells all 
 Seem bowing with the beautiful in song ; 
 And gaping cuckoo-flower, with yellow leaves, 
 Seems blushing of the singing it has heard." 
 
 3J* T^ *P *|C *T^. 
 
 " Deep adown 
 The nest is made, a hermit's mossy cell, 
 Snug lie her curious eggs, in number five. 
 Of deaden'd green or rather olive brown ; 
 And the old prickly thorn-bush guards them well. 
 So here we'll leave them, still unknown to wrong, 
 As the old woodland's legacy of song." 
 
 Not long after the publication of this charming little volume, 
 to which Clare's fame as a poet may be safely entrusted, the 
 hallucination commenced which gradually increased until the sad 
 necessity came of subjecting to restraint a nature as little calculated 
 to endure it as that of the bird whom he describes so appreciatingly. 
 Poor Clare : In this very volume he says : — 
 
 " I love to walk the fields ; they are to me 
 A legacy no evil can destroy." 
 
 Little did he imagine how dire an evil was even then threatening
 
 JOHN CLAUE. 
 
 49 
 
 him, destined ultimately to remove him from all that he loved so 
 dearly, and to deprive him even of the legacy Tvhich he fancied 
 indestructible. 
 
 Clare died on the 2-ith May, 1864, in the Northamptonshire 
 Lunatic Asylum, of which he had been an inmate for many years ; 
 and was buried on the following Wednesday in the churchyard of 
 his beloved Helpstone, thus realizing his early wish to rest in his 
 " own old Home of Homes."
 
 ^g ik Caiml 
 
 Y the Canal I love to go, 
 
 Where the willows and sedges grow ; 
 Where in tlie glassy stream the sky, 
 As in a mirror, seems to lie; 
 Storm or sunshine, or rainbow bright. 
 Amber evening or moonshine white. 
 Heaven above and Heaven below — 
 By the Canal I love to go, 
 
 By the Canal. 
 
 By the Canal, under the bridge, 
 Through the mountain's sever'd ridge. 
 Over the valley, gazing down 
 Into the hamlet, on to the town : 
 By where the wharf in the morning bright 
 Tinctures the stream with a blood-red light. 
 The red brick wharf which the waters lap 
 And delve into many a wounded gap 
 By the Canal. 
 
 By the Canal in the early mom, 
 AVhen the young Spring sun leaps up new born. 
 And chases the ripples the crisp wind makes. 
 Till into a thousand lights it breaks, 
 And a merry dance of nymphs it seems 
 To him who closeth his morninor dreams 
 By the Cannl.
 
 BY THE CANAL. 
 
 By the Canal in the Summer's ray, 
 When the sun is high on the traveller's way ; 
 Pleasant to leave the dusty road 
 And loosen the knapsack's heating load, 
 And under the willows woo the air 
 That cooled by the waters wanders there 
 By the Canal. 
 
 By the Canal in the Autumn light, 
 
 '•Thile the clouds with sunset hues are bright 
 
 Amber and red, and green and gold, 
 
 And thousand tints, unmatch'd, untold : 
 
 And all in glory see them lie 
 
 Repeated, as in another sky, 
 
 In the Canal. 
 
 By the Canal, when the day is done. 
 And the worn steed's wearv rest is won, 
 And the boat is moored to the water's edge, 
 Under the leaves, among the sedge. 
 And all is quiet and all is dark 
 Save one red gleam in the long low bark 
 On the Canal.
 
 t^^n^ 
 
 ioIbcnbiT. 
 
 " Whanne that Aprill with his showers sote 
 The drought that March had pierced to the root, 
 And bathed every vcyne in swich liquor 
 Of which virtue engeudred is the flower ; 
 When Zephirus eke with his sweete breath 
 Enspirud hath in every holt aud heath, 
 The tender croppes and the young6 sun 
 Hath in the Ram his halfe course i-ronne, 
 And smal^ foul^s maken melody 
 That slepen all the night with open eye, 
 So prickelh them Nature in their cor^ges, 
 Then longen folk to go on pilgrimages." 
 
 |0 sang Geoffrey Chancer five hundred years ago; and so 
 sings the heart of man to this day. Let us resume our 
 rambles round about. 
 
 Holdenby is always associated with the memory of 
 Charles I. ; but its interest begins much earlier than the 
 stirring days of that ill-starred monarch. In Domesday 
 Book it is called Aldenesbi, which Baker supposes to mean the "bye," 
 or home of the Saxon possessor. A family, taking its surname from 
 the place, was located here at least as early as the beginning of the 
 13th century, and continued in the direct male line till the 16th 
 century, when, through the marriage with the sister of a Holdenby, 
 the estates passed to a branch of the Hattons, an ancient Cheshire
 
 HOLDENBY. 53 
 
 family. At Holdenby, in 1548, was born tlie celebrated Sir Chris- 
 topher Hatton — 
 
 " Whose bushy beard and shoe-strings green, 
 Whose high-crown'd hat and satin doublet 
 Moved the stout heart of England's Queen 
 
 Though Pope and Spaniard could not trouble it." 
 
 He was a student of the Inner Temple, when at a masked ball his 
 handsome person, graceful dancing, and prepossessing manners won 
 the heart of Queen EKzabeth, and he was introduced into the 
 Eoyal household. He continued to advance in favour till in 1587 
 he was made Lord Chancellor, to the great heart-burning of the 
 legal functionaries over whose heads he was promoted to this high 
 office. How great the dissatisfaction was we may judge from the fact 
 that the sergeants at first refused to plead before him. He had reached 
 his exalted station at a leap, without any of the probation which is 
 conceived, with good reason, to be needful for it. " He rather," 
 says Fuller, " took a bait than made a meal at the inns of court 
 whilst he studied the laws therein." " But his parts," says the 
 same quaint writer, " Avere far above Ms learning, which mutually 
 so assisted each other that no manifest want did appear." He 
 seems to have had a passion for building. It was he who built 
 Holdenby House, of which we have still a stately ruin, and Kirby, 
 also a ruin. As he blossomed by the sunshine of royal favour, so 
 he perished by its withdrawal. The Queen ("who seldom gave 
 boons, and never forgave due debts ") demanded of him the imme- 
 diate payment of an old debt, and the vexation which it occasioned 
 brought on a fever. Elizabeth relented when informed of his 
 danger, and carried, as some said, cordial broths to him with her 
 own hands, but without effect. " Thus," adds Fuller, " no pidleys 
 can draw up a heart once cast down, though a Queen herself should 
 set her hand thereto." Sir Christopher died in 1591, iind was 
 buried in St. Paul's. His estates were bequeathed to his nephew. 
 Sir William Newport, with remainder to liis godson and heu' male, 
 Sir Chiistopher Hatton. In 1G08 this Sir Christopher conveyed,
 
 oi -RAMBLES KOrXDABOL'T : 
 
 upon certain conditions, the greater mansion-house and manor to 
 James I. for life, remainder to Charles Duke of York, his second 
 son, in tail male, with remainder to his Majesty's heirs and suc- 
 cessors. The nomination ol' the Duke of York was ominous. In 
 1625, by the deatli of his father, he became King of England, and 
 Holdenby was destined to be his prison. In the struggle between 
 liim and his Parliament, Holdenby was seized, with the rest of the 
 royal demesnes, and, after the decisive battle of Naseby, Charles 
 having suiTendered to the Scotch army at Newark-on-Trent, was 
 removed thither. James Harrington, the author of Oceana, was 
 one of the Parliamentary Commissioners employed on this occasion. 
 The captive King was treated with liberality. His household 
 iRchuled, besides the usual staff attached to the kitchen and out- 
 houses, yeomen ushers, yeomen of the guard, yeomen hangers, 
 pages of the presence, cup bearer, carver, sewer and esquire of the 
 body, physician, apothecary, and chiriu-geon. An estimate of the 
 expense for twenty days, commencing 13th February and ending 4th 
 March inclusive, was submitted to Parliament as follows : — 
 
 £ 
 
 His Majesty's diet of sxviii dishes, at £xxx per diem 700 
 
 The King's voydy 32 
 
 The Lords' diet of xs days 510 
 
 For the clerke of the green cloth, kitchen and spicery, a mess 
 
 of vii dishes 40 
 
 Dyetts for the household and chamber officers, and the guard... 412 
 Board-wages for common household servants, pot-scowrers, and 
 
 turn-broachers 36 
 
 Badges of Court and riding wages 140 
 
 For liuuen for His ^Majesty's table, the Lords, and other diets 273 
 
 For wheat, wood, and Cole 240 
 
 For all sorts of spicery store, wax lights, torches, and tallow 
 
 lights 160 
 
 For pewter, brasse, and other necessaries incident to all offices, 
 
 aud for carriages 447 
 
 £2090
 
 HOLDEXBY. 
 
 The'Communion plate, formerly set on the altar in the King's 
 Chapel, at "\Yhitehall, consisting of "one gilt shyppe, two gilt 
 vases, ,two gilt euyres, a square bason and fountain, and a silver 
 rod/' were melted down to make plate for His Majesty's use at 
 Holdenby. The first monthly remittance was made in accordance 
 with the above estimate : but the expenses were afterwards cut 
 down to one-third, viz., £50 a day. Charles's favourite amusement 
 was bowling : it was the fashionable amusement of the day, and 
 the Green being out of order at Holdenby, he used to ride over . 
 sometimes to Althorp and sometimes to Boughton. It was on one 
 of these occasions that a Major Bosville, disguised as a countryman, 
 awaited the King on Brampton Bridge, with a fishing rod in his 
 hand, as if he had been angling, and endeavom-ed to convey to him 
 letters from the Queen and Prince Charles. About a montli 
 afterwards another similar attempt was made to convey secret 
 information to the King by Mary Cave, the daughter of Mr. 
 William Cave, of Stanford. Of both these circumstances Major 
 Whyte Melville has availed himself in his brdliant romance of 
 Holmby House, but with the license of the novelist. Bosville was 
 captured, and orders were given by the House of Commons to send 
 for him from Northampton by the Sergeaut-at-Arms, but how he 
 was disposed of does not appear. Mistress Cave, in order to attain 
 her object, says Baker, " engaged a female friend, who resided in 
 the neighbourhood of Holdenby, to visit the landlady of Captain 
 Abbot, one of the King's Guards, and through the landlady's 
 influence to persuade ^the Captain to procure her the honour of 
 kissino- the King's hand : which having accomplished she apprised 
 Mrs. Cave of her success, and contracted with her landlady to 
 receive her as a visitor, and endeavour through the Captain to obtain 
 for her also the honour of an introduction to His Majesty, by 
 which means she hoped to put the letter into his hands. Mrs. 
 Cave came, and the Captain had good naturedly, but unsuspiciously, 
 acceded to the request ; when the landlady imparted the plot to her 
 husband, who, though a royalist and favourable to the design, dared
 
 56 EAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 not run the risk of detection, and divulged the secret to the 
 Captain. On the appointed day (11th May) the Captain, who had 
 apprised the Commissioners of the circumstance, accompanied Mrs. 
 Cave, who had no suspicion of having been betrayed, to Holdenby ; 
 and on her arrival she was carried into a room, but, notwithstanding 
 the most diligent search, nothing was found upon her. The letter 
 was accidentally discovered a few days after behind the hangings of 
 the room, where it seems she contrived to slip it whilst she stood 
 with her back to the hangings conversing with the ladies who 
 searched her." 
 
 On the 3rd of June the King was forcibly taken out of the 
 hands of the Commissioners, at Holdenby, by Cornet Joyce, under 
 circumstances which form not the least interesting chapter in the 
 story of his unhappy life. We must sketch it briefly. On the 2nd 
 of June a party of 700 horse arrived at Kingsthorpe, and at night 
 they rendezvoused at Harlestone Heath, Soon after midnight they 
 advanced into the park and surrounded the house. At break of 
 day on the 3rd of June the horses were drawn up in front of the 
 great gates at the back yard. The Commissioners had troops of 
 their own stationed there, but they fraternized with the new comers. 
 Joyce stated that their object was to bring the Governor, Colonel 
 Graves, to trial before a Council of War for having scandalized 
 the ai'my. Graves was already aware of the hostile feeling against 
 him, and had taken flight. Joyce, on learning this, concluded that 
 he had gone for succours, and at ten at night demanded an audience 
 of the King. He found the King in bed, and apologized for having 
 disturbed him ; to which the King replied, " No matter, if you 
 mean me no hurt." He then announced his intention of removing 
 the King from Holdenby. Next morning by six o'clock the troops 
 were drawn up in the first court before the house. The King, 
 addressing them from the top of the steps, said that Cornet Joyce 
 having proposed to convey him to the array, he was come to give 
 his answer in the presence of them all ; he protested that he came 
 to Holdenby not by constraint (though not so willingly as he
 
 HOLDENBY. 57 
 
 niiglit have done) for the purpose of communicating with the 
 Parliament ; and that having sent several messages to them, he 
 considered himself in some degree bound to wait here for answers ; 
 yet if satisfactory reasons could be given he would go with them, 
 even though opposed by the Commissioners. Joyce rephed that 
 their only motive for securing His Majesty's person was to prevent 
 the kingdom being involved in another war ; a plot contrived by 
 some members of both Houses of Parliament having existed for the 
 last four years to overthrow the laws of the kingdom, and convey 
 His Majesty to a new army to be raised for that purpose. The 
 King denied all knowledge or belief of any such design or intended 
 anny ; and turning to the Cornet, who stood at the foot of the 
 stairs .n front of the troops, desii-ed to know his authority for 
 securing his person. " The soldiery of the army," said Joyce. The 
 King replied that he knew no lawful authority in England but his 
 own, and next under him the Parliament ; but asked wdiether he 
 had aay verbal or written authority from General Faii-fax ? " He is 
 only a member of the army," rejoined the Cornet. " Then deal 
 ingeiuously with me," returned the King, " and tell me what com- 
 misaon you have." " Here is my commission," Joyce answered. 
 " Where ? " enquired the King. " Behind me," retorted Joyce, 
 poiiting to the soldiers. The King, smiling, observed it was a fair, 
 weL-\vi'itten commission, legible without spelling. Joyce had, in 
 his interview with the King, the preceding night, promised that he 
 should be treated with honour and respect, and not be forced in 
 anything contrary to his conscience, and on the King re- 
 peating these stipulations, they were carried by general 
 acclamation. And so King Charles departed fi'om Holdenby. The 
 vcissitudes of the monarch's life have furnished many a subject for 
 tie canvas ; yet we are not aware that this most picturesque and 
 striking incident has ever been treated by any artist. An early 
 June morning, a troop of sturdy horsemen, with helm and cuirass 
 snd buff jerkin, and furniture of war, with fair fields and distant 
 voods for a background ; a quaint Elizabethan doorway, with steps,
 
 58 RAMBLES BOUND ABOUT : 
 
 on the uppermost of whicli stands the stately figm-e that Vandyclc 
 loved to paint — the monarch with the sallow, melancholy, yet 
 handsome visage ; and the resolute Cornet Joyce at the foot 
 pointing to " his commission :" — here, surely, are materials for as 
 fine a picture as ever was painted by Maclise or Millais. 
 
 What Holdenby House was in its magnificence we learn from 
 Norden. He describes it as " a very beautiful building erected 
 with such uniformity and so answerably contrived as for the 
 quantity and quality is not to be match'd in this land. In the 
 hall there are raised three peramides very high standing instead of 
 a shryne, the midst whereof ascendeth unto the roofe of the hall, 
 the other two equal with the syde walls of same hall, and on them 
 are depainted the arms of all the gentlemen of the same shire, 
 and of all the noblemen of this land. The situation of t'le same 
 house is very pleasantlie contrived, mounting on an hill enyironed 
 with most ample and large fields and goodly pasti;res, manie young 
 groves newlie planted, both pleasant and profitable ; fish ponls well 
 replenished, a park adjoining of fallow deer, with a large warren of 
 coneys not far from the house, lying between East Haddoi and 
 Long Bugbye. About the house are greate store of hares, and 
 above the rest is especially to be noted with what industrj and 
 toil of man the garden hath been raised, levelled, and formel out 
 of a most craggy and improfitable ground, now framed a nost 
 pleasant, sweete, and princely place, with divers walks, manie 
 ascendings and descendings, replenished also with manie deligUful 
 trees of fruite, artificially -composed arbors, and a distilling hcuse 
 on the west end of the same garden, over which is a pond of water 
 brought by conduite pipes out of the field adjoyning on the west, 
 a quarter of a mile from the same house. To conclude, the stite 
 of the same house is such and so beautiful that it may well delight 
 a prince." Baker adds the following details : — " From a careful 
 inspection of the remains, aided by the personal and traditionary 
 information of an old inhabitant whose father and grandfather 
 resided on the spot, I have been enabled satisfactorily to retrie/e
 
 HOLDENBY. 59 
 
 the original outline of this interesting mansion. The principal 
 front faced the east, and the two archways now standing were the 
 lateral entrances to the principal coiu't. The foundations of the 
 central entrance my informant remembers being dug up close to 
 the wall which bounds the adjoining field ; the postern gate at 
 the north end of this wall communicated with the stables and 
 coach-houses which ranged eastward, nearly on the site of the 
 cottages on the south side the green ; eastward of these was 
 a large gateway, removed within these few years [this was 
 written circa 1S22] ; beyond which were the malt-house, and 
 probably the daily and other buildings, the remnants of which 
 are converted into a farm house : the whole of the premises 
 stretching considerably above a furlong in length." Buck's View 
 (1729) gives one of the pyramids spoken of by Norden, and other 
 ruins, south-east of the present remains, which have long since 
 disappeai'cd. 
 
 In May, 1630, the trustees for the sale of Crown Lands sold 
 the mansion and estates to Adam Baynes, of Knowsthorpe, Esq., 
 a captain in the Parliamentary army, and M.P. for Leeds in the 
 only Parliament in which it was ever represented prior to the 
 Eeform Act of 1832. The sum given for the whole was £22,299 
 6s. lOd. : the materials of the mansion were valued at £6,000 over 
 and above the expense of taking them down : the park contained 
 500 acres, and was stocked with upwards of 200 deer of different 
 kinds, worth £300 ; and eleven cows and calves of wild cattle 
 worth M2. Baynes demolished the building, and with part of the 
 materials three houses were erected in Northampton — one in the 
 Drapery, one in St. Giles's-street, and one in Gold-street. They 
 were all standing within living memory, but that in Gold-street 
 (now in the occupation of Mr. Muscott) is the only one remaining. 
 The house in St. Giles's-street stood on the site of the houses now 
 occupied by Miss Markham and -Mr. Terry, jun., and was always 
 known as "Little Hohnby." At the Restoration the alienated 
 Crown Lands were resumed, and Holdenby was given by Charles
 
 60 EAMBLES KOUNDABOUT: 
 
 II. to his brother James Duke of York, afterwards James IT., who 
 sold it to Lewis Duras, created Baron Duras of Hoklenby. He 
 died in 1709, and Holdenby was purchased of his representatives 
 by the Great Duke of Marlborough, whose descendants sold it in 
 1802 to Henry Wclbore Agar Ellis, second Viscount Clifden. In 
 the Clifden family it still remains. 
 
 " If," says Fuller, " Florence be said to be a city so fine that 
 it ought not to be shown but on holidays, Holdenby was a house 
 which should not have been shown but on Christmas Day. But, 
 alas ! Holdcnby-house is taken away, being the emblem of human 
 happiness, both in the beauty and the brittleness, short flourishing, 
 and soon fading thereof. Thus one demolishing hammer can undo 
 more in a day than ten edifying axes can advance in a month." 
 
 Evelyn, writing from " my Lord Sunderland's seat, at 
 Althorpe" (1675) says — "The park full of fowl, especially herns, 
 and from it a prospect of Holdenby House, which being demolished 
 in the late civil wars, shows like a Roman ruin, shaded by the 
 trees about it, a stately, solemn, and pleasing view." Since then, 
 as we have seen, the ruin has lost very much of its magnificence, 
 though the two lateral gateways bearing the Hatton arms, and the 
 noble chimneys, still give a character to the view from Althoi-p. 
 Baker describes the portion of the House not demolished, "as only 
 a portion of the attached offices;" reserved by Adam Baynes 
 " probably for his own habitation." But, traditionally the large 
 stately upper room of the eastern half of the building is known as 
 King Charles's bedi-oom. Considering the history of the House 
 the distinction between the windows of the eastern ana western 
 portions is curious. The western windows retain the stone 
 muUions of the Hatton period ; the eastern are of the time of the 
 Charleses. 
 
 What Holdenby House was in its grandeur we can bat faintly 
 guess at ; but its splendid site is still a magnificent reality. Major 
 Whyte Melville breaks into a prose poem in describing it. " The 
 slope of the ground," he says, "which declines from it or. all sides.
 
 HOLDENBY. 61 
 
 offers a succession of the richest and most pastoral views which 
 this rich and pastoral country can afford. Like the rolling prairie 
 of the Far West, valley after valley of sunny meadows, dotted with 
 oak and elm and other noble trees, undulates in ceaseless variety 
 far as the eye can reach ; but unlike the boundless prairie, deep, 
 dark copses, and thick luxmiant hedgerows, bright and fragrant 
 with wild flowers, and astir with the glad song of birds, diversify 
 the foregi'ound and blend the distance into a mass of woodland 
 beauty that gladdens alike the eye of the artist and the stolid gaze 
 of the clown. In June it is a dream of fairyland to wander along 
 that crested eminence and turn from the ruins of those tall old 
 gateways cutting their segments of blue out of the deep summer 
 sky, or from the flickering masses of still tender leaves upon the 
 lofty oaks yellowing in the floods of golden light that stream 
 through the network of their tangled branches, every tree to the 
 up-gazing eye a stiidy of forest scenery in itself, and so to glance 
 earthward at the fair expanse of homely beauty stretching away 
 from one's veiy feet. Down in the nearest valley, massed like 
 a solid square of Titan warriors and scattered like advanced 
 champions from the gigantic array profusely up the opposite slope, 
 the large old oaks of Althorpe quiver in the summer haze, backed 
 by the thickly wooded hills that melt in softened outlines into the 
 southern sky. The fresh light green of the distant larches 
 blooming on far Harlestone Heath, is relieved by the dark belt of 
 firs that draws a thick black line against the horizon. A light 
 cloud of smoke floats above the spot where lies fair Northampton 
 town, but the intervening trees and hedgerows are so clothed in 
 foliage that scarce a building can be discerned, though the tall 
 sharp spire of Kingsthoi-pe pierces upwards into the sky. To the 
 west a confusion of wooded knolls and distant copses are bathed 
 in the vapoury haze of a declining sun, and you rest your dazzled 
 eyes swimming with so much beauty, and stoop to gather the wild 
 flower at your feet. Ah, 'tis a pleasant season, that same merry 
 month of June ! Then in December — who doth not know and
 
 03 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 appreciate tlic merits of December at such a spot as Holdenby ? 
 Of all climates upon earth it is well known that none can produce 
 the equal of a soft mild English winter's day, and such a day at 
 Holdenby is worth living for through the gales of blustering 
 October and the fogs of sad November with its depressing 
 atmosphere and continuous drizzle. Ay, these are rare pastures 
 to breathe a goodly steed, and there are fences too hereabouts that 
 will prove his courage and your own. But enough of this. Is 
 not Northamptonshire the very homestead of horse and hound, and 
 Pytchley but a synonym of Paradise for all who delight herein ^" 
 
 The terrace walks from which the eye takes in all this beauty 
 are still traceable. What a brilliant scene they must have presented 
 when they were thronged by the ladies and gallants of Elizabeth's 
 time, all gorgeous in silks and satins, velvets and laces ! The 
 natural slope of the ground was artificially increased ; far beneath 
 are the fish ponds, and you look doAvn upon the Church tower. 
 
 The Church is a small structure of various dates, the earliest 
 portion being of the fourteenth century. It consists of an 
 embattled tower, a nave, north and south aisles, and a chancel. 
 The latter has been recently restored in the Early English style, 
 and is large and lofty — loftier than the body of the structure. At 
 the entrance is a ponderous oak screen, elaborately carved, which 
 was set up by the Kev. Daniel Amiand, rector from 1690-1 to 
 1730. It is a good specimen of the Renaissance style of the day, 
 and has no feature in harmony with the rest of the building. 
 Among its adornments are two figures in Roman costume, each 
 with a hand resting upon a shield. A large square pew is probably 
 of Sir Christopher Hatton's time. The font is octagonal, with a 
 projecting kneeling stone, and is covered with shields blazoned, 
 which were restored in 1860, by the son of the late rector, Mr. 
 Hartshorne, as we learn from the following inscription on one of 
 them: — " Albertus Hartshorne, hunc fontem repinxit 1860." In 
 the chancel are eight stalls with misereres. The under brackets 
 have been mostly mutilated, but one retains the grotesque bust of
 
 HOLDENBY. 63 
 
 a man Avearing a hood or cap witli two asses' ears. He is clotlied 
 in a doublet with hanging sleeves, and plaj's on a small drum. On 
 his left slioulder sits a cat ; a pair of wings form the ends of the 
 bracket. The carving is very spirited. Neither Bridges nor Baker 
 makes any allusion to it, though the latter speaks of the stalls and 
 the turn-up seats, of which in his day there appear to have been 
 five on each side. The oldest monumental record now in the 
 church is a white alabaster slab in the south aisle, on which are 
 out-lined two figures — male and female, with the hands in the 
 attitude of prayer. The man is in plate armour, with fan elbow 
 and knee pieces : his head is uncovered, his hair, long and lank, 
 tails straight in a line over his forehead : the woman is plainly 
 dressed with a bodice fitting close down to the hips, and a skirt 
 falling in straight folds ; she wears a cap with lappets. The slab 
 is partially covered with a pew, and the inscription which borders 
 it is in part hidden and altogether much worn. Bridges gives it as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Hie jacet Willi'us Iloldyiiby et Margareta uxor ejus, que quidem 
 Margareta obiit ... die mensis . . . Auno Domini MCCCCLXXI. 
 Et Willi'us obiit ... die . . . mensis MCCCCLXXXX quorum 
 a'i'abus propitietur Deus. Ameu." 
 
 Bridges states that the engraving of the figures is in brass, which 
 is an error, and Baker is also mistaken in describing them of the 
 size of life. They have, Bridges tells us, a boy and girl at their 
 feet : this is the portion now covered Avith the pcAV. On a brass in 
 a slab at the east end of the nave next the chancel is the following 
 ([uaint inscription : — 
 
 Tiiquises? Hattonus : que te pronomine dicis? 
 
 Franciscum : geuitor cui Gulielmus erat. 
 Viventi que cura ? mori meditabar, avcbas 
 
 Deserere hanc vitam ? non : sed adire deam. 
 
 This Francis Hatton Avas an elder brother of the great Sir 
 Christopher Hatton, and died, aged 14, in 1547. On a brass
 
 64 RAMBLES UOTJNDABOUT : 
 
 tablet on a slab in the sonth aisle is the following inscription :— 
 
 Hie Holdenbei castissiraa nominis heres 
 
 Ilattoni Conjux Elizabetha jacet. 
 Legerat hffic talem non inconsulta raaritum 
 
 Ut foret huic generis majore origo sui. 
 
 Another slab records the death of the gi-andson of this Elizabeth 
 as follows : — 
 
 " Heare lyetli William Ilatton, sonne of John Hatton, sonne of Elizabeth 
 Hatton, daughter and heire of William Holdcnbie, on whose soule Jesns have 
 marcie." 
 
 He died in 1546. On another slab is the foUoAving verse : — 
 Corpus eras pulchrum, sed non sine pectore corpus 
 
 Sic tibi re Thoma, laus ab utraque fuit, 
 Te juvenem terris raptum Deus intulit astris 
 Et sacra Civem fecit in arce suum. 
 
 There is an arch in the wall of the south aisle which probably 
 once canopied the founder's tomb. Bridges states that it contained 
 a wooden statue of a man in a buttoned goAvn, with an iron sword 
 and head-piece laid by him, but without any inscription. At a 
 small distance, he adds, upon a raised pavement, is a black marble, 
 on which was the effigies of a man in brass, with a coat of arms on 
 each side of his head and a brass tablet at his feet ; but the whole 
 he says, is now gone. 
 
 There is assuredly no finer site for a mansion in the whole 
 county of Northampton than Holdenby, and something like the 
 revival of its Elizabethan glories was, we believe, at one time 
 contemplated by the late Viscount Clifden. He built a family 
 vault there, and transferred to it the remains of his grandfather, 
 who purchased the property, father and sister, and buried there his 
 mother, the late Baroness Dover. There, too, his own remains, 
 and the remains of one of his twin children, are deposited. In tlie 
 churchyard is a slab to the memory of Florence, daughter of the 
 eminent antiquary, the Rev. C. H. Hartshorne, some time rector. 
 
 Holdenby village consists of a few cottages, skirting a spacious 
 green — healthy-looking and pleasant.
 
 HOLDENBY. 65 
 
 In tlie house are two interesting relics found at different 
 periods in the immediate neighbourhood. One is apparently a kind 
 of couteau de chasse. The handle of horn, with silver rivets, is 
 about eleven inches long, and is grooved for a clasp blade, of which 
 traces remain. At the other end is an axe curved at the blade like 
 a cheese-cutter, and on the top a pole-axe. It was probably used 
 in stag-hunting. The other is a sword of, we believe, peculiar 
 construction. The blade is waved, and is 32 inches long; the 
 guard is a sort of gauntlet of iron, with a cross bar of the same 
 metal within, at right angles with the blade, for the grasp. The 
 blade springs from the upper part of the gauntlet, and a flap of 
 iron in front is closed from within by putting a finger through a 
 ring in the centre. There are guards on the gauntlet in the centre, 
 and a steel point on either side, within which are curved cutting 
 blades on joints, apparently devised to cut the knuckles of an 
 antagonist grasping the weapon at close quarters. This elaborate 
 weapon is calculated less for cutting than for thrusting. 
 
 E
 
 ONG S of love I used to sing thee 
 In those early days ; 
 Votive flowers I used to bring thee, 
 Songs of love I used to sing thee. 
 Winter's gi-asp hath left no flowers, 
 
 Care's hath left no lays, 
 Like the songs and like the bowers 
 
 Of those early days. 
 Yet beneath this death-like seeming, 
 
 Warmth and life remain ; 
 Flowers will burst at summer's beaming. 
 And the heart, with love still teeming. 
 Wake to song again. 
 
 Worn and weak with travel 
 
 Through the live-long day, 
 Thinking with a sad heart 
 
 Of the onward way. 
 Sudden from a lattice 
 
 Looked an angel face, 
 Such as in his happiest hour 
 
 Guido loved to trace. 
 Pount of inspiration ! 
 
 From thy radiant source 
 Heart and mind and Aveary limbs 
 
 Drew unwonted force. 
 Thankless they who tell us 
 
 Beauty's gifts are vain ; 
 ]\Iaking bliss itself more blissful. 
 
 Giving bliss to pain.
 
 6(i^toiv. 
 
 ;URN to the right on leaving Blis worth Station; take the 
 descending road between Blisworth Gardens and the 
 Towcester railway embankment, and a walk of a mile 
 will bring yon to pleasant Gayton. A mile, it is called, 
 thoTigh most pedestrians, we believe, think it a long one 
 — a mile and a bittock, as the Scotch say — about half a 
 mile further. There is music in Blisworth Gardens always, the 
 freshest and truest and purest being that from the orchestra in the 
 boughs up above, when beautiful with the bright bursting of the 
 Spring leaves. Cross the first roadway at right angles, descend the 
 path by the new railway bridge, and follow it over undulating fields 
 till you reach the next road, running east and west. Your way lies 
 westward ; turn to the left, and you will soon see direct before you 
 the tower of Gayton church, the outline of its fine old Manor 
 House, and a picturesque boundaiy of trees. 
 
 A few paces, and a glorious scene opens upon you. The 
 road crosses fields now under the plough, affording a rich 
 brown foreground, alive with the biisy crow. To the right is a 
 magnificent panorama, sweeping a vast extent of country to the 
 north and north-west. We are upon high ground here : here, if 
 anywhere, a Ineeze may always be found ; in winter, one that for 
 keenness might vie with the cutlery of Sheffield itself. In tlie 
 early Spring, with a strong east wind blowing, the air is chill, but 
 the fair beauty of the prospect, and the rural sights and sounds all 
 round us, make up a happy and thoroughly enjoyable whole.
 
 68 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 Gayton is a goodly village, with comfortable cottages witbiii 
 it, though some of them elbow their neighbours rather too closely. 
 Here and there you find an old substantial house with good gables 
 and mullioned windows. But its glory, in this respect, is the fine 
 old Manor House at its eastern extremity, the .way, by which we 
 entered. It stands north of the church, and is an imposing feature 
 of the landscape. Originally it was a cruciform building with four 
 gables, faced by a narrower gabled projection from roof to basement, 
 affording a bay window to every room. The windows have stone 
 muUions and a label above ; they are of three lights — five in the 
 bay. Lofty and imposing, with that air of comfort and domesticity 
 which characterises tbe Elizabethan structures, one can imagine no 
 more desirable residence, certainly none finer in respect of situation. 
 There are large cheerful windows all the house over, though half of 
 them are blocked up. In early times, when eveiy man's hand was 
 against his fellow, people were compelled, for the sake of security, 
 to be content with dwellings dimly lighted by narrow loopholes in 
 massive walls. With the dominion of law came the recognition of 
 the blessedness of ample light, and our ancestors of the Elizabethan 
 era revelled in the gladness of spacious windows. Half the 
 picturesque beauty of these old mansions is due to this cheerful 
 characteristic. But a time came when, although the brute force of 
 war was not known in this country, the cost of it was, and people 
 were compelled to take refuge in darkness against the tax-gatherer, 
 as they had done formerly against the man-at-arms. Pitt's 
 window-tax did irreparable mischief to our dwellings, old and 
 new. It set builders to devise how light might be most generally 
 dispensed with, and it blocked up the windows of our old mansions, 
 shutting out the wholesome light and air, and consigning long 
 passages and cosy nooks and corners to dinginess and damp. How 
 it is that the cause being removed, the effect is not removed also — 
 why these bricked-up windows are not re-opened, and air and light 
 and health again admitted into them — is not difficult to understand. 
 The restoration would cost much money ; the casements are gone,
 
 ,^ GAYTON. 69 
 
 and in some cases the mullions ; the rooms to which they belong 
 have been devoted to vises, perhaps, for which light is not absolutely 
 necessary ; or they have been Avholly deserted and abandoned, and 
 are mouldering to decay ; and lastly, long habit and the 
 unacquaiutance with a brighter condition of things have blunted 
 the sense of inconveniences and evils which must have been sorely 
 'felt by those upon whom the dismal duty first fell of blocking out 
 the cheerful day. All good is not of necessity immediately 
 recognised. The trail of evil remains long after the evd itself 
 has passed away. Our domestic architecture has not even yet 
 returned to the knowledge of the value of abundant windows. 
 
 This Gayton mansion was probably built by the Francis 
 Tanfield whose monument is conspicuous in the church. The 
 Tanfields were possessed of the manor from about 1452 to 1607, 
 when a Sir Francis Tanfield sold it to Sir William Samwell. 
 When the occupation of its early owners filled it with life, and the 
 brawls and revels of the time brightened every window with light, 
 the house must have shone like a beacon of brightness and joy to 
 the far-surrounding country. 
 
 Exteriorly the Church is of small promise to the archaeologist. 
 It has been much restored at various periods, and the traces of the 
 original structure are not many. The western door in the tower 
 has a triangular head, but on the top two stones are engraven the 
 words, " 1735, William Ball, churchwarden," implying that a 
 restoration was made at that time. It is probable, however, that 
 Mr. Ball may have followed the form of an original Anglo-Saxon 
 door. The tower was restored, apparently, about the same time to 
 a large extent ; nearly all its windows have evidence of eighteenth 
 century work about them. In the main the Church is Decorated, 
 but in the north wall there are traces of a circular-headed door, 
 long since walled np, which may have belonged to the original 
 building. It is divided by a Decorated buttress partly built, 
 apparently, of some of the stones of the arch. In the same
 
 70 RAMBLES KOUNDABOUT ; 
 
 l)uttress, also, may be traced tlie dedication-stone, marked with 
 five crosses. 
 
 The interior, however, has many features of interest, although 
 that, too, has in its day suffered by restoration. The nave, for 
 example, is ceiled and coloured in a fashion more suitable to a 
 (Irawinsr-room than a Gothic Church. The font is late Norman, 
 and is rimmed with the cable moulding ; the sides have an arcade 
 of intersecting arches, the head of each having a curve at the 
 termination not unlike the incipient idea of a cusp, forming a 
 somewhat rude trefoil head. The chancel arch is lofty and 
 spacious, and on the south side, immediately within the arch, is a 
 long narrow confessional window, divided by a transom. The 
 chancel is full of interesting work. A reredos of rich dark oak, 
 elaborately carved, extends along the entire width. It is divided 
 into panels with arches and a kind of drapery pattern, and a centre 
 separated by two buttresses, pinnacled and crocketted. Under a 
 canopy in each of these buttresses, and standing on a slender 
 column as a pedestal, is a figure about six inches high, also cai-ved 
 in oak. One is habited in a tunic reaching to the knees, a mantle 
 over the shoidders, and a cap with a long end, as if to draw down 
 over the face like the cap of a chimney-sweep. The legs are cased 
 in tight hose, and the shoes are high-lows without lacing. The 
 other figure is clothed in a vest, closed in front, and having large 
 hanging sleeves ; a tunic falling in large, straight, regular folds to 
 the knees, tight hose, and shoes like the other. His head is 
 covered with a huge mass of clustering hair, crowned with a kind 
 of trencher cap. On each side of the chancel are three stalls, with 
 carved elbows and misereres, in excellent preservation. These 
 misereres have all curiously grotesque carvings. Beginning at the 
 east end on the south side, the subject appears to be the entry into 
 .Terusalem. At a window above is apparently a priest with clasped 
 hands. No. 2 represents a sitting figiu'e with uplifted hands, and 
 on either side a cluster of praying figures as if in panniers. 
 No. 3 : thi-ee figures seated under a canopy ; above, the fragment
 
 /* GAYTOX. 71 
 
 of a curled head, similar to the one on the reredos. On the north 
 side, beginning at the west end, is a stern-looking draped figure, 
 with both arms extended, spreading an ample mantle, beneath 
 which on either side cower naked and terrified figures ; the central 
 miserere aftords a grotesque group — an animal, which may be meant 
 for a dog or possibly a bear, has been seized by a lion, which in its 
 turn is seized by a winged dragon. The ends of the carving, which 
 in the instances already mentioned are flowers, and oak-leaves, and 
 acorns, are here formed of nondescript animals — one of them a 
 dragon, biting his own tail ; the other, a winged creature, with a 
 hood or cap on its head. The last of the series is a figure in scale 
 armour, a personification, probably, of the Evil one, with bird-like 
 claws instead of hands and feet, and carrying a kind of heraldic 
 shield, Avith traces on it of a bend and bordure. He sits astride 
 prostrate figures, wearing caps and tunics, and one holding a coil 
 of beads. One of the ends is formed of an animal something like 
 a bear ; the other, of a figure with folded arms, having a scroll in 
 his lap, from behind which projects au axe. His legs are 
 demoniacal claws. We have already said that these curious 
 sculptures are in excellent preservation ; they seem, indeed, to have 
 been the objects of a more intelligent care than such relics 
 ordinarily meet with ; but we may call the attention of the 
 authorities to the fact that one of the feet of the figure on the south 
 side of the reredos is broken ofi", and a remarkably well-carved mask 
 from one of the elbows of the stalls is lying on the credence shelf 
 of the piscina in the south wall. Five minutes and the glue-pot 
 will save them from the peril to which their present unsecured state 
 subjects them. 
 
 Separating the chancel from the north chapel is an altar tomb 
 under an open trefoil-headed ogee arch, upon which lies the wooden 
 effigy of a cross-legged knight, with his feet on a dog, and his 
 hands pressed together, in devotion. He wears a round filletted 
 helmet and camail ; a tunic girt round the middle by a belt, and a 
 sword, broken, suspended by a baldrick. Baker supposes it to
 
 72 KAMBLES KOUNDABOUT: 
 
 represent the last of the Gaytons, Sir John de IVfeaux, of Gayton 
 and of Bewyk in Holderness, Yorkshire, who died in 1379, leavini:; 
 no chiklren. Opposite this tomb, in the south wall, is an altar 
 tomb of Purbeck marble, under a depressed 'I'udor arch embattled, 
 and bearing four blank escutcheons. It has no inscription, and 
 apparently has been blank always. Against the north wall of the 
 north chapel is an altar tomb of alabaster, on the face of which 
 are incised the effigies of Francis Tanfield and Bridget, his wife, 
 with their eighteen children. Eight of them, having died in 
 infancy, are represented in swaddling clothes, bound with cross 
 straps, like the wrappings of a mummy. The initials of the 
 Chi-istian name of each child is engraved beneath : — C. F. A. F. 
 B. A. L. I. T. Y. A. M. E. M. I. B. S. I. The knight is in plate 
 armour, with chain mail tassettes, and slashed sollerettes, with the 
 frightful broad toes characteristic of the time of Henry VIII. His 
 feet rest on a greyhound, and those of his lady on her lap-dog. 
 The figures are veiy interesting as illustrative of the costume of the 
 period. Eound the ledge of the tomb is the inscription : — " Hie 
 jacent Franciscus Tanfield, Armiger, et Brigetta, ux' ejus, qui 
 quidem Franciscus obiit diem Ao dni 1558 Novebris 21 die 
 quorum vita Christus est, Brigetta v'o obiit ao dni 1583 Junii 20 
 die. Eequiescant in pace." The arms of Tanfield and Cave 
 appear on lozenges within square panels at each end of the tomb, 
 the lady having been a daughter of Richard Cave, of Stanford, 
 Esq., and sister of Sir Ambrose Cave. Eastward of this in- 
 teresting monument, beneath an arch in the wall, is the recumbent 
 figure of a female, her head supported on a square cushion, and her 
 feet resting on a lion. She wears, says Baker, " a long Paris hood 
 or veil, falling gracefvdly on her shoulders, and confined round the 
 head by a studded fillet, from which a smaller fillet rises over the 
 forehead, disclosing her parted hair in front. Her robe is loose, 
 with tight sleeves from the elbows, and close buttoned at the wrist. 
 Her mantle is fastened across the breast bv a cordon, which she 
 holds in her left hand : her right reposes by her side, and the folds
 
 ,^ GAYTON, 73 
 
 of lier drapery are gathered under each arm." The historian is of 
 opinion that this fia-ure must have been imitated from, if not the 
 actual production of, the sculptor of the Royal females on the 
 Queen's Cross, and has little hesitation in assigniing it tp Scolastica 
 de Meaux. If by this Scolastica is meant the wife of Godfrey de 
 Meaux, and mother of Sir John de Meaux, the last of the Gaytons, 
 whose monument we have already described, and who died in 1354, 
 the inexorable logic of figures makes it impossible that the work 
 shoidd be that of the sculptor of the Eleanor Cross figures. All 
 the Eleanor Crosses Avere built between 1291 and 1294; and the 
 intrinsic evidence also is against the supposition. The sculpture 
 on the tomb is artistically inferior to that of the Crosses. Of 
 course the argument is not equally good as against the question of 
 imitation. But the fashion of the day will, we think, sufficiently 
 account for any resemblance without assuming direct copy. A 
 tenible tragedy is connected with this Scholastica. Her sister 
 Juliana married Thomas Murdak, of Edgcote, and in the 26th 
 year of her age was burnt for the miirder of her husband. On a 
 bracket over this figure is a remarkable little effigy of a young 
 female not two feet long. It had been built into the exterior east 
 wall of the north chapel, and "was discovered by Dr. Butler, the 
 incumbent, during some reparations in 1830. Like the figure 
 just described, she wears a veil confined across the forehead by a 
 studded fillet. One of two shields discloses her connection with 
 the Gaytons. On the ledge may be traced in Lombardic 
 characters — " H — jacet in tumba Mabila filia Thomas " — 
 
 The section of the Northampton and Banbury Railway from 
 Ellsworth to Towcester skii'ts the southern boundary of Gay ton. 
 Owing, however, to the line being in a cutting at this point, and 
 the swelling of the intermediate fields, little of the village is visible 
 from it besides the summit of the church tower.
 
 ^ 
 
 imoii, tit Wm toto. 
 
 CJn Inscription for a case containing a Piping Crow that used to 
 ivhistle " The Qirl I left hehind me."J 
 
 HIS is Simon, tlie Piping Crow : 
 These are his feathers, this is his toe, 
 This is his beak so shai-p and strong ; 
 
 But where, alas ! ah, where is his song ? 
 
 A strange, mysterious bii'd was he,— 
 
 The song he sang in his native tree 
 
 He never sang in slavery, 
 
 But he solaced himself with a captive strain, 
 
 " The sweeter for a taste of pain." 
 
 It told of a girl he left behind, 
 
 Eocked by the rude Australian wind ; 
 
 He learnt it of a bold Jack Tar, 
 
 Who had also left his girl afar, — 
 
 A man in his way a bit of a trim -beau, 
 
 ^\Tio used to stand with his arms a-kimbo. 
 
 And looking up at the young May moon, 
 
 "Whistle his love in that plaintive tune. 
 
 And Simon caught, not merely the lay, 
 
 But Jack's identical, nautical way. 
 
 And kimboed his wings and lifted his beak. 
 
 As if he were shouting his strange musique 
 
 To a messmate, mast-headed above, 
 
 Purelv for likino- and for love. 
 
 o 
 
 This is Simon, the Piping Crow : 
 He died — as possibly you know, 
 Or he wouldn't be sitting mumchance so. 
 He died — vet we didn't "lay him low,"
 
 SIMON, THE PIPING CROW. <•> 
 
 As tlie common phrases of epitaphs go, 
 
 But had him stufted with wool and tow, 
 
 And made him a kind of a sort of a show, 
 
 To make you cry " I never ! "— " Oh ! " 
 
 Why he died we never could tell ! 
 
 He never complained of feeling unwell. 
 
 One doleful day we took to his house 
 
 A dish he was partial to — a mouse ; 
 
 And at it he went with his mighty beak, 
 
 And then Ave heard a terrible shriek, 
 
 Such as we never heard before, 
 
 And it thrilled our hearts to the very core ; 
 
 And before we could speak he was on the floor. 
 
 And we plainly saw that all was o'er. 
 
 Never did Simon whistle more. 
 
 Down he fell, to the mind recalling 
 At Pompey's foot proud Caesar falling ; 
 For dying he held his lordly will. 
 And inantled his wings about his bill ;* 
 In death Australian Simon still. 
 
 And since Australian Simon died, 
 A bold Jack Tar I neyer have spied. 
 With arms a-kimbo and legs astride. 
 And his head upraised and a little aside, 
 And never I hear the warlike fife 
 Pipe farewell to maid or wife, 
 But my heart will with the music go, 
 In memory of " Simon, the Piping Crow." 
 
 Then burst his mighty heart. 
 
 And in his mantle muffling up his face. 
 
 Even at the base of l^nipey's statue, 
 
 Which all the while ran blood, great Ccesar fell. 
 
 Julius CvEsak.
 
 
 IMngtoit. 
 
 ^OT so many years ago, a walk to Abington was a perfect 
 country walk. Abington-street, cheerful in itself (its 
 eastern half at all events) with an occasional scrap of 
 garden, Mr. Markham's somewhat quaint house, with its 
 evergreens and creepers, and garden wall, peaked-roof 
 summer-house, and trees overhanging the footway, and, 
 at the extremity, on one side Dr. Kerr's garden, terminating in the 
 Dutch-fashioned lusthuis, of the kind which still border the canals 
 of Holland, and which came in with William the III., and on the 
 other the late Mr. Percival's house, with its ample garden also 
 next the street — Abington-street, pleasant and country-like, had, so 
 to speak, one foot in the fields. The " Bantam Cock " was a 
 way-side inn, with fields and gardens all about it. Church-lane, 
 as the turning down to St. Giles's Church was called, was overhung 
 with a noble row of elms in Mr. Percival's garden, all the way 
 down to the Churchyard, on the site now magniloquently called 
 St. Giles's-terrace, on the lucus a non lucendo principle, because it 
 is not terraced, just as Albion-crescent is called a crescent because 
 it is not crescented. Keeping under Mr. Percival's wall, at the 
 north boun^lary of St. Giles's Churchyard, there were continuous 
 paths through market gardens and fields nearly all the way to 
 Abington. The paths remain, but changed from what they were. 
 For hedge-rows we have houses, and brick walls, and cinder paths. 
 A whole suburb has sprung up in our track, and we cross at right 
 angles street after street, having the advantage, however, let it be
 
 ABINGTON. 77 
 
 noted, of a sight of trees and allotment grounds at either extremity, 
 north and south. Many, too, of these small suburban liouses have 
 neatly-kept gardens in front, and look very clean and cheerful, and 
 well-to-do. Some of them still look over orchards and market 
 gardens, and must have delightful up-stairs rooms, though they 
 will hardly retain the advantage many years. Of the streets 
 crossing our path north and south, the last ought to be the 
 pleasautest, being built at present on one side only, and having the 
 privilege of looking over gardens, and onwards to distant fields. 
 Somehow, the inhabitants seem to have a custom of breaking their 
 windows and mending them with brown paper and dirty rags, 
 which is certainly not ornamental, nor, we should think, much 
 more useful. Crossing a stile, old memories revive ; we get at 
 length into the old garden grounds, odorous of the bean-flower and 
 that essence de mille fleurs, which no chemist can elaborate like the 
 great chemist Nature. Then comes a good liberal hedge-row, 
 interspersed with elms, and fields with nibbling sheep. Another 
 stile, and we are in sight of Abington Park. And now we are 
 fairly in the country, and in a very beautiful nook of it too. The 
 trees are magnificent in their abundance, their size, and their 
 luxuriance. Broad -leaved chestnuts make a shade, resting in 
 whict we can survey in the early summer the glory of the white 
 cones of flowers scattering delicate showers of white beauty on the 
 vivid grass. Huge elms, making an avenue from the Rectory to 
 the Abbey, fling their giant arras across the road. " A circular 
 aiTay " of pines, — 
 
 " — so fixed, 
 Not by the sport of Nature but of man," 
 
 gives special character to the scene. Down the slope to the left is 
 a farm-house, looking like snugness itself; but conspicuous over 
 all are the abbey (upon what authority it is called an abbey we do 
 not know) and the church tower. It is a picturesque group. The 
 grounds of the abbey are on a sort of terrace, and in the wall which 
 embanks it is an arch, covering a long stone trough, fed by a
 
 78 BAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 spring, to which tlie cattle resort. The church, standing in the 
 grounds of the abbey, and very near it, is clustered about with tall 
 trees, and we see the tower only, partly clothed in ivy. It is 
 embattled and has decorated windows and gurgoyles, and is the 
 best part of the structure, the rest having in the main been re-built 
 in comparatively modern times, and with but scant architectural 
 knowledge. It was blown down when under repair in 1831. 
 Baker thus describes it previous to this calamity : — " The church, 
 dedicated to St. Peter and St. Paul, is situated in a small church- 
 yard, planted on the north and west to screen it from the mansion. 
 It consists of a tower, nave, side aisles and chancel leaded, and a 
 plain south porch tiled. The south front is mantled with ivy ; the 
 tower and east ends of the nave, chancel, and north aisle are 
 embattled. ]\Io3t of the windows are long and square-headed, 
 divided by a single muUion ; the eastern chancel window is of three 
 lights, with plain arched heads ; one of the windows in the north 
 aisle is of a much earlier date than any other part of the biiilding, 
 being a double lancet with a drip-stone following the course of 
 both arches." When the church was re-built it seems to have 
 been shortened at the east end. It is difficult otherwise to account 
 for the position of tAVo altar monuments in the north chapel, which 
 stand so nearly together as to preclude any passage between them, 
 the east wall also being built close up to them. The inscriptions 
 face the east, and are only legible by climbing on to the tombs 
 themselves. There was, no doubt, access to them round the 
 east end, unless we are to suppose that at the rebuilding of the 
 church the top slabs were reversed. Bridges describes them as " at 
 the south-we^^ end of the north chapel." At present they occupy 
 the whole depth of the chapel from east to west. They are to the 
 memory of Dame Eleanor Hampden, mother of Sir John Bernard, 
 who died in 1634, whose first husband was Baldwin Bernard, and 
 her next Sir Edmund Hampden, of Great Hampden, Bucks, the 
 uncle of the patriot ; and to the same Sir Edmund Plampden who 
 died in 1637. Neither Bridges nor Baker notices a carving on the
 
 /-. ABIXGTON. 79 
 
 stone panel of the west end of tlie lady's tomb, of a demi-knight 
 in full armour on a wreath holding a tilting-spear, with the upper 
 part broken. On the floor on a plaiu slab at the south-east end of 
 the church is the following inscription beneath the Bernard arms 
 now nearly defaced : — 
 
 M.S. 
 
 Hie Jacent Esuvise Genei'osissmi 
 
 Viri Johannis Beraard, iJilitis 
 
 Patie, Avo, Abavo, Tritavo, aliis 
 
 Progenitoi'jb' per ducentos et 
 
 amplius anaos huius o])pidi de 
 
 Abingdon Domiais insignis. Qui 
 ^ Fato cessit undeseptuagesimo 
 
 Aetatis sua; auno quinto nonas 
 
 Martii Annoque a partu B Virginis 
 MDCLXXIII. 
 
 Bridges mistakenly gives the date 1683. There is a peculiar 
 interest in this inscription. Not that the father, grandfather, 
 great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather, and other progenitors of 
 the Sir John Bernard whom it records, for more than two hundred 
 years were lords of Abington, nor that with him ended that 
 distinction ; but that he was the second husband of the last of the 
 line of William Shakespeare. Shakespeare's favourite daugher, 
 Susannah, who married Dr. Hall, had a daughter Elizabeth, who 
 married in 1626 Thomas Nash, Esq., of Welcomb, in the county 
 of Warwick. Mr. Nash died in 1647, and in 1649 his widow 
 married this Sir John Bernard, whose first wife was also a daughter 
 of a man of mark in his day, Sir Clement Edmonds, of Preston 
 Deanery, the author of the Observations on Caesar's Commentaries, 
 and Kemembrancer of the City of London in 1609. The secoTul 
 Lady Bernard died in 1669-70, and we find the record of iun- 
 burial in the Parish Register as follows : — " Madam Elizabeth 
 Bernard, wife of Sr. John Bernard, Kt., was buried 17th Feby., 
 1669." It is curious that the entry is somewhat cramped and 
 crowded upon a record of the burial of one " Tliomas Hoe,
 
 80 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT, 
 
 labourer :" it is the last in tliat year, and its appearance almost 
 suggests that it was an interpolation between the entry of the 
 l)urial of Thomas Hoe and the heading of the coming year " Anno 
 Domini 1670 ;" as if the keeper of the Eegister had written the 
 heading for that year, not expecting other burials. Of this last of 
 the Shakespeares there is no other record. So far as we know, no 
 stone ever marked the spot where she was buried, ^lien the body 
 of the church w^as blown down and the new building took place, 
 we may take for gi'anted that many inscriptions were destroyed ; 
 ])ut that one to Lady Beraard was not among them we may accept 
 as a certainty. Baker, who compiled his account of Abiugton 
 before the destruction of the church, makes no mention of any 
 inscription, as he undoubtedly would have done had any existed ; 
 and Bridges is equally silent. Sir John Bernard sold the Abiugton 
 property in this same year of Lady Bernard's death. There may 
 be nothing in the coincidence : there may have been a recording 
 stone, which, in the hundred years and more between the burial and 
 the compUation of Bridges' history, may have become accidentally 
 destroyed. But it is difficult to repress the feeling that something 
 of a domestic romance has been lost. The entry of the burial 
 of Sir John Bernard is as follows : — 
 
 " Sr. John Bernard, Knia;ht, my noble and ever honoured patron, was 
 buried 5th March, 167|." 
 
 It is written in a distinct and good hand, obvioiisly by the rector, 
 John Howes, who was inducted in 1652. There is an entry in the 
 register, under the date of 1654, that "Robert Joyce, sei-vant to 
 John Bernard, Esq,, aged about one hundred years, was buried 
 27th Nov., anno predicto." 
 
 Abiugton came by marriage through Elizabeth, only daughter 
 and heiress of Sir Nicholas Lillyng, who was member for the 
 county in 1381-2, into the family of the Bernards of Isleham, 
 CO. Cambridge, about the beginning of the 15th century, and 
 continued in their possession till 1669, when Sii* John Bernard 
 sold the manor, lordship, and advowson of " Abbington alias
 
 '- ABINGTON. SI 
 
 Abingdon," with tlie court-lcet, court-baron, and fisliery in the 
 river of Nen from Northampton Meadow to Weston Meadowy to 
 William Thursby, then of the Middle Temple, London, Esq., for 
 JEI3,750. Mr. Thursby was a native of Holt, in Leicestershire, 
 and was educated at Uppingham Grammar School ; he was twice 
 married, but had one child only, who died an infant. He was 
 member for Northampton in 1698. His estates were devised to 
 his nephews, W^illiam and Kichard Thursby, successively, in tail 
 male, with remainder to his niece Mary Harvey. The nephews 
 (lied without children, and the settled estates devolved to John 
 Harvey, Esq., the son of the niece Mary Harvey, who thereupon, 
 in pursuance of an express proviso in the will of the devisor, 
 ass\imed the name and arms of Thursby of Essex. Ealph 
 Thoresby, the celebrated Leeds antiquary, was of the Thursby 
 family. 
 
 Baker suggests, with much plausibility, that the south and 
 east fronts of this fine old mansion were built by the first Mr. 
 Thursby ; and the late Mr. Pretty (a sufficient authority) thought 
 it probable that they were designed by Francis Smith, an architect 
 of Warwick, of whom a portrait is engraved by A. V. Haecken, in 
 mezzotinto, and dedicated to Wm. Thursby, Esq., 1730. Eut 
 much of the interior belongs lo an earlier time. The hall, a lofty 
 gothic room, has an open timbered roof, a recess and dais at one 
 end, and muUioned windows. The staircase is of the Elizabethan 
 period. But the glory of the place is a room at the south west 
 corner, so elaborately and beautifully pannelled that nobody, 
 throu"-h the centuries of its existence, has found heart to defiice it. 
 There are the three pikes naiant of the Lillyngs ; the bear rampant 
 of the Bernards, and a whole gallery of grotesque devices besides. 
 Among them are a fool carrying a child in swaddling clothes, with 
 wom<;n following ; a fox in a pulpit ; a dog with his head in a pot ; 
 gi'oups representing the seasons and their occupations — ploughing, 
 sowing, mowing, carrying grapes, beating the mast from the oak 
 for the swine beneath; mummers and antics dancing and tumliling;
 
 82 RAMBLES BOUND ABOUT: 
 
 a dancing bear ; boys blowing bubbles, &c. It is not easy to 
 determine the date of this interesting room. The chimney front 
 may be as late as James I., but it does not follow that the entire 
 room is of that date. We should rather believe it to have been the 
 work either of the John Bernard, who died in 1485, or of his son, 
 also named John, who died in 1508. Our reason for fixing 
 on these particular individuals, apart from the evidence of the 
 workmanship itself, is that on one of the shields are the initials 
 I. B., with, a little below, M., which may be interpreted John and 
 Margaret Bernard. Both the Bernards in question married a 
 Margaret, and no later Bernard had a wife whose name had the 
 same initial. In this curious and beautiful room, however, precisely 
 as we see it, by whomsoever panelled, it is certain that the last of 
 the Shakespeares sat. The possibility indeed is that Shakespeare's 
 own favourite daughter herself, Susannah Hall, may have looked 
 upon its quaint carvings. Her daughter, the widow of Mr. Nash, 
 married Mr. Bernard (he was not knighted till twelve years later) 
 on the 5th of June, 1649, while her mother was stiU living. 
 Mrs. Hall died in little more than a mouth afterwards (July 11) at 
 Stratford-upon-Avon, in her 67th year. A journey from Stratford 
 to Abington was not, in those days, to be performed with the ease 
 and speed of our railway times ; but whatever convenience the 
 times afforded would have been at her service. Wedding tours had 
 not yet become the fashion, and after her maiTiage Mrs. Bernard, 
 with a goodly company of friends and relations, would proceed 
 direct to her new home. It is not impossible that Mrs. Hall, 
 should have been among the most honoured of the guests there. 
 
 Mr. Halliwell, we have heard, entertains an opinion that 
 behind the wainscoting of this room may be found a solution 
 of the question — What became of Shakespeare's MSS. and 
 correspondence ? Among the curiosities of literatiu'e there is 
 nothing, perhaps, more curious than the total disappearance of 
 every scrap of Shakespeare's writing, his autographs excepted 
 attached to legal documents, and the one in his copy of Florio's
 
 " ABINGTON. 83 
 
 Montaigne. A completer clearance could not have been made had 
 his will contained a clause directing that all his papers should be 
 burnt. Whatever his supposed indifference to the preservation of 
 his writings, it is impossible that at his death there shoidd not 
 have been a vast accumulation of papers and correspondence. We 
 agree with Mr. Knight in altogether disbelieving the assumption 
 that after his retirement to Stratford, Shakespeare wholly ceased to 
 write. The argument to the contrary is unanswerable — " Is it 
 reasonable to believe that the mere habit of his life would not 
 assert its ordinary control ?" Assuming, which we have no right 
 to assume, that Mrs. Shakespeare took no interest in her husband's 
 miscellaneous papers, and set no value upon them, regarding them 
 indeed rather as lumber to be got out of the w^ay of good 
 housewifery as speedily as possible, it is not probable that his 
 daughter, Mrs. Hall, should not understand, and duly estimate 
 them. She and her husband w'ere Shakespeare's executors, and in 
 that capacity had possession of the house in which the testator died. 
 New Place, with all the goods not specially otherwise bequeathed, 
 " and household stuff whatsoever." Susannah Hall was " witty 
 
 above her sex ;" — 
 
 Witty above her sex, but tbat'^s not all. 
 
 Wise to salvation was good Mistress Hall; 
 
 Something of Shakespeare was in that, but this 
 
 Wholly of Him with whom she's now in bliss — 
 says the epitaph on her tombstone. All her father's papers must 
 have fallen into her hands, and she lived more than thirty years 
 after his death. At Mrs. Hall's death they would go to her 
 daughter, Mrs. Bernard. What did she do with them? Mr. 
 Halliwell, we have understood, thinks it not improbable that she 
 deposited them somewhere behind this antique wainscoting, and 
 that they may be there still. The question arises — What was her 
 motive for sueh a concealment ? Was she a person of eccentric 
 habits ? Had she tastes not in common with her husband's ? She 
 was a woman of education, to judge by her bold, masculine 
 autograph. Sir John had lived through the times of the
 
 84 KAMBLES K.OUNDABOtJT :' 
 
 Coramonwealtli. Had he adopted the prejudice of that day 
 against the drama? Did his lady put lier grandfather's papers 
 out of the siglit of good Mr. Howes, the rector, who was " a 
 moderate Presbyterian," and dedicated some sermons to his " ever 
 honoured patron ?" Are there behind that panelling other 
 Hamlets ; other Merry Wives of Windsor ; Letters from Ben 
 Johnson : from my fellows John Hemynge, Richard Burbage, 
 and Henry Cundell ?" A mere Midsummer dream perhaps, but 
 to say the least, a dream strangely tantalizing. Whenever Mr. 
 Halliwell brings out his magnificent projected work — " Illustrations 
 of the Life of William Shakespere," we shall no doubt have these 
 possibilities and probabilities discussed with all the fulness that 
 Zeal and knowledge and unsparing research, can give them, and 
 we may expect to see thorougli pictorial justice done to this 
 l)eautiful room. 
 
 This fine old mansion has for many years been occupied as a 
 " Eetreat" — a happy name for a place so peculiarly adapted to 
 " minister to a mind diseased." The grounds about are very large 
 and ver}'' diversified in their character ; every turn afi'ords a new 
 and pleasant picture. The very kitchen gardens, surrounded with 
 lofty walls, are yet so Avide and so bounded with trees that they 
 look thoroughly unconfined and inviting to a stroll in them. The 
 many roofs of the mansion seen from them are pleasing in their 
 combination with the church tower beyond. Among the old and 
 ample outhouses is a Dovecot, with, a good Tudor dooi^way to it. 
 The present occupant. Dr. Prichard, has made vast improvements 
 in the gi'ounds of the most judicious kind. 
 
 On the lawn before the east front is a mulbeny tree, which 
 was planted in 1778 by David Garrick, and had suspended to it a 
 copper plate with the following inscription : — 
 
 " This tree was planted by David Garrick, Esq., at the request of Ann 
 Thursby, as a growing testimony of their friendship, 1778." 
 
 Eighty-eight years is not a great age for a mulberry tree. 
 There are some three hundred years old still flourishing and
 
 ,^ ABINGTON, 85 
 
 Tjearing, and as long as it continues vigorous, tlie older the tree, 
 we believe, the richer the fruit. But this tree which the great actor 
 planted is, we are sorry to say, by no means in a thriving condition. 
 Its leaves are small, and have a dwindled appearance ; the foliage 
 is scanty, and the fruit does not ripen kindly. 
 
 In the Dunciad is at once immortalized and libelled one 
 Leonard Welsted, in these lines : — 
 
 " Flow, Welsted, flow ; like thiae inspirer, Beer, 
 Tho' stale, not ripe ; tho' thin, yet never clear ; 
 So sweetly mawkish, and so smoothly dull, 
 Heady, not strong; o'ertlowing, tho' not full." 
 This is a parody on Denham's famous apostrophe to the 
 
 Thames : — 
 
 " could I flow like thee, and make thy stream 
 jMy great example as it is my theme : 
 Tho' deep, yet clear ; tho' gentle, yet not dull ; 
 Strong without rage ; without o'erflowing, full." 
 
 Leonard Welsted was the son of the Eev. Leonard Welsted, 
 the incumbent of Abington, and was born there in 1689. He was 
 educated at Westminster School, and very early in life obtained a 
 place in the Ordnance Office. In 1724 he published a volume of 
 poems entitled " Epistles, Odes, &c." One of his Odes was 
 highly commended by Steele, and so generally admired as to be 
 attributed to Addison. In Dr. King's Works is included a poem 
 on "Applepie," which Chalmers claims for Welsted, who, it is 
 said, wrote it while he was yet at Westminster School. Bell's 
 "Edition of the Poets" (1781) retains "Applepie" among Dr. 
 King's poems, with the following note : — " This poem hath been 
 claimed as Mr. Welsted's in ' The Weekly Oracle,' August 6th, 
 1735, with a remark that 'Dr. King, the Civilian, a gentleman of 
 no mean reputation in the world of letters, let it pass some years 
 without contradiction as his own.' " Wheiher Chalmers had other 
 authority besides the " Weekly Oracle" for claiming it as 
 Welsted's, we do not know. As Welsted published many poems 
 in his life timCj he had frccjueijt opportunities of asserting his title
 
 S6 EAMBLES KOUNDABOUTr 
 
 io his poem, which, however, he does not appear to have done. 
 He was twice married ; first to a daughter of the eminent musician, 
 Henry Purcell, who composed, among so much other delicious 
 music, the lovely air to Dryden's words, " What shall I do to show 
 how much I love her," and the music to " The Tempest ;" and 
 secondly to a sister of Bishop Walker, the defender of London- 
 derry. He died in 1747. 
 
 It was apparently a merry time when the nephew of the 
 purchaser of Abington was in possession of the property. In one 
 of the early volumes of the Northamjiton Mercury occurs the 
 following advertisement : — 
 
 " On Tuesday in Whitsuu-weelc, being the 26th of May, 1724, will he 
 run for from the gate of William Thursby, Esq., leading into Wellingborough- 
 road, down Abbington-street, to the Pump upon the Corn-market Hill, in 
 Northampton, a plate of £5 value by any bull, cow, or bullock, of any age or 
 size whatsoever, that never won the value of £5 in money or plate. Each 
 rider to have boots and spurs, with a goad of the usual size. Every bull, &c., 
 to pay one shilling entrance, which is to be given to the second best bull, &c. ; 
 the winning beast to be sold for £30 (if desired) by the subscribers. They arc 
 to start at the gate above-mentioned, at five o'clock in the afternoon. If any 
 disputes arise, to be decided by the majority of the subscribers then present." 
 
 Those were the days of open fields, and the farmers along the 
 line of the proposed route were naturally somewhat alarmed at 
 what might happen to their crops if the bull were to bolt from the 
 appointed course, and choose one for himself across country. They 
 appear to have remonstrated, and the programme was accordingly 
 modified. In a subsequent number of our paper there appeared a 
 second advertisement, as follows : — 
 
 " Complaints having been made that great Damage will be to the Corn by 
 the Bulls, &c., starting at the Gate of William Thursby, Esq., it is ordered by a 
 great many of the Subscribers that upon Tuesday in W' hitsun Week, being the 
 26th instant, at 4 in the afternoon, the Bulls, &c., are to start from the Bridge 
 uear Swallbrook Spring, run down A.bbington Street into Northampton, and end 
 at the Pump upon the Corn-^Iarket-Hill. The winning Bull, Ox, or Cow to be 
 rid by the rider fi'om the said Pump, by the Hind Inn, and down the Drapery 
 to the George Inn: where the Treasurer will be to deliver the Plate, Five 
 Pounds in Money; and the Stakes to the second best Bull, &c. The Bulls, &c.,
 
 ABINGTON. 87 
 
 /•• 
 
 to enter at Hill's Coffee House, in Northampton, at Nine in the :Morning thu 
 
 Day of Running, and pay One Shilling entrance each Bull, &c., which goes to 
 
 the second best Bull, &c., as aforesaid. No less than Fonr to start for the 
 
 Plate." 
 
 If, as is certain enougli, we are not a wliit better tlian we 
 
 should be, it is consolatory to know that in some respects, at least, 
 
 we are a little better than our forefathers. We have abandoned 
 
 bear-baiting, and bull-running, and bull-racing. Northampton in 
 
 1724 was a somewhat aristocratic town, and the route chosen for 
 
 this extraordinary race was through its most aristocratic portion. 
 
 It was a town of large inns mainly, and of the residence of the 
 
 smaller gentry. The intercourse with London was not so easy as 
 
 in later times, and Northampton was a kind of metropolis for its 
 
 surrounding neighbom-hood. Balls and assemblies were frequent, 
 
 and they brought hither the surrounding aristocracy. Hill's Coffee 
 
 House, wherever it stood, was no doubt the fashionable resort of 
 
 the bloods of the day. In reference to these bull races, however, 
 
 we must bear in mind that cattle in those days were commonly 
 
 used for draught, at the plough, and in carts and Avaggous 
 
 employed in agriculture. The racing bull, therefore, was to a 
 
 certain extent a trained animal, and the race was not exactly the 
 
 same thing that it would be with animals taken fresh from the 
 
 pasture or the stall. Still no amount of education could make a 
 
 seat on bull-back very secure or agreeable, and the fun must have 
 
 mainly consisted in the frequent unshipping of the riders ; perhaps 
 
 in the animal making a sudden raid among the spectators, over- 
 
 tiu-ning some and scattering the rest in all directions, amidst 
 
 shrieks and laughter. The triumphal ride from the Pump to the 
 
 George was not the worst devised ]KU-t of the programme. To 
 
 make a bull, hot from a pell-mell chase, march with stately step 
 
 and slow down a street, thronged with shouting and laughing 
 
 people, argues a skill in " noble horsemanship " which might well 
 
 " 'witch the world." 
 
 Abington, and nearly all its pleasant domains, is now the 
 
 property of Lord Overstone.
 
 mu gtonivs of Sore: it nmh. 
 
 Pleasant life it must have been, 
 The life of the monks of yore, 
 Or sauntering on the Abbey-green, 
 Or over the purple moor ; 
 Or with a book beside the stream, 
 The trout-stream gushing clear ; 
 Or in the morning's earliest beam, 
 
 With an eye on the plump red deer. 
 Oh, a merry life he must have led, 
 
 The monk of long a^-o ; 
 If he didn't get nigh to the heaven o'erhead, 
 He made heaven of earth below. 
 
 They gifted his cell with broad, rich lands. 
 
 The richest in the shire ; 
 And they came to his service with willingness. 
 
 To fashion his desire ; 
 And he dream'd sweet dreams of a fane that seems 
 - Wrought by a breath divine ; 
 By the holy rood, the love was good 
 
 Whence sprang so fair a shrine. 
 Oh, an earnest life he must have led, 
 
 The monk of lons" a^o ; 
 If he didn't get nigh to the heaven o'erhead. 
 
 He made heaven on earth below.
 
 THE MONKS OF YORE : A BALLAD. 
 
 Jolly at eve, at tlie ample board, 
 
 In the higli refectory ; 
 When the party came, and the wine's red hoard. 
 
 Who would not do as he ? 
 He has echoed the anthem through the aisles, 
 
 He has told his rosary ; 
 And the pilgrun cheer'd with food and smiles, 
 
 And a benedicite. 
 So a merry life he must have led, 
 
 The monk of long ago ; 
 If he didn't get nigh to the heaven o'erhead, 
 
 He made heaven on earth below. 
 
 They tell that in the dead midnight. 
 
 The hind that wends his way. 
 Sees many a strange, unholy sight, 
 
 He dare not tell by day. 
 Strange deeds Avere done beneath the sun, 
 
 As fearful legends tell ; — 
 Aye, there was crime in the olden time. 
 
 But in modern times as well. 
 So deem the best of the life he led, 
 
 The monk of long ago ; 
 And hope that he thought of the heaven o'erhead 
 
 When he made a heaven below. 
 
 89
 
 CV') 
 
 lolljcrstkrpe. 
 
 EAVELLERS by rail between Bliswortli and Northampton 
 ■^ discern, lying northward, a church tower rising from a 
 
 
 cluster of trees. It is especially remarkable in having a 
 \^iP^ pack-saddle roof. Any rambler would be attracted by 
 its picturesqueness. A rambler with an antiquarian bias 
 Avould be sure to seek it out. Erom Blisworth there is 
 a pleasant walk of a long-ish mile — pleasant whether you follow 
 the road, or take the shorter cut over the fields. A cluster of 
 poplars is a sufficient land-mark. Eothersthorpe is the most rural 
 of villages — small, scattered, quiet, clean, intersected with fields 
 and trees and gardens ; with none of the unagreeable accompani- 
 ments of large towns. The farm-houses look prosperous and very 
 pleasant, and happy. Some of them have stately gables, and 
 windows with drip-stones and muUions of the Tudor period. As 
 we pass an open homestead, we see its mistress, who has just 
 entered, Avelcomed by a simultaneous winging downwards of 
 pigeons, and rushing towards her of fowls, and frolicsome homage 
 of dogs. We get glimpses, too, of orchards, white and pink with 
 blossom, and lawns which they overshadow and keep greeji. 
 Dwellers in towns contrast them, with a shrug of the shoulders, 
 with their own poor endeavours at gardens in pots on the window 
 sills, which, however, if they are wise, as well as observant men, 
 they will cherish none the less, remembering the sage maxim — 
 " Quand on n'a pas ce qvie Ton aime, il faut aimer ceque Ton a" — 
 when we haven't got what we like, we must like what we have got.
 
 '- KOTHEESTHORPE. 91 
 
 Rotherstliorpe, secluded and out of the world as it now 
 is, must at some remote period have been a place of importance 
 and turbulent assemblage. In Domesday Book it is called 
 simply Torp, the Saxon name for a village, but at an earlier 
 date than that famous record it had been the site of extensive 
 earthworks. A camp, occupying about four acres in the 
 centre of the village, and evidently dictating its form, had 
 probably a connection with the camp on Hunsborough Hill, 
 known as Dane's Camp. It is wedge-shaped, the highest part of 
 the embankment being on the west and north-west. The late Mr. 
 Pretty, F.S.A., who twenty years ago published in the Archceological 
 Journal a very careful account of the village, accompanied by two 
 admii-able etchings of the church, points out that several of the 
 earthworks in the vicinity are more or less of a similar shape — 
 those at Burnt Walls, Alderton-Bury, Lactodorum, the station of 
 Antoninus at Towcester ; and Dane's Banks, towards BrickhilL 
 The highest part of the embankment at Kothersthorpe is at the 
 north-west corner. The feet of many generations must have 
 traversed the footpaths intersecting the enclosm-e, and the cattle of 
 centuries grazed upon its mounds, but it is still boldly defined, and 
 manifests its once formidable character. It is known as the Burys, 
 a moditication of the word Burh, the Anglo-Saxon name for a fort 
 or settlement. 
 
 The Church, which attracts the eye at a distance, by no means 
 disappoints a closer inspection. Its aspect is singularly venerable, 
 The peculiar gable of its pack-saddle roofed tower, its sancte bell 
 cot, and its generally grey and weather-stained walls, impress one 
 strongly with a sense of its antiquity. Its architecture is mainly 
 of the Decorated period, with introductions, of course, of a later' 
 date ; while its Norman font, and an Early English doorway within 
 the porch, tell of an antecedent structure. It consists of nave, 
 chancel, north and south aisles, with a chapel at the east end of 
 each ; a tower and a south porch. The three arches on either side, 
 which separate the nave from the aisles, are carried by clustered
 
 ■93 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 pillars, the shafts of which are painted in a gi'ey oil colour. 
 Wonderful things are sometimes done under the delusion of 
 improvemeut. In Towcester Church there are two early Norman 
 pillars, with the shafts ornamented with the zigzag ornament, as in 
 the tower arch of St. Peter's, Northampton. Somebody, no doubt, 
 fancied he was putting things as they should be when he turned 
 these unhappy pieces of work upside-down, and set them on their 
 heads, as they are at this day. The chancel arch appears to have 
 recently had some attention bestowed upon it, and presents the 
 original stone. A squint or hagioscope, on the south side of the 
 chancel, afforded a view of the ceremonial from the south chantry. 
 In the chancel are two sedilia and a piscina ; and on the north side 
 is an aumbry, with its original oak door, and wrought-iron hinges 
 of horse-shoe form, the ends being snake's heads. In the south 
 chantry is another piscina, and a third in the south wall of the 
 north cliantry. Beneath an ogee arch, crocketted, and with 
 Decorated mouldings, in the south wall, is the founder's tomb. As 
 late as 1835 the par-close screens were in existence : they were of 
 the late Decorated period. The tower arch is closed. In the belfry 
 are four bells, with the following inscriptions : — " 1 God Save our 
 King 1638;" " 2 Eussel of Wotton made me;" " 3 God Save our 
 King 1630;" "4 Som Rosa polsata monde Maria vocata." The 
 fourth bell of Pattishall Church, about four miles further on the Ban- 
 bury Lane, bears the same legend. An Englefield once held both" 
 those manors, and Mr. Pretty conjectures, Avith great probability, 
 that he was the donor of both bel)s. Prior to 1841, when the 
 Church was new-paved, some of the figured tiles of the pavement 
 remained. Two of them were of rather a bright-red earth, covered 
 with a chocolate-coloured ground, impressed with a yellowish pattern 
 of deer running and two cocks fighting. 'The Norman font is in good 
 preservation. Its lower half is plain : the upper has an arcade of 
 intersecting arches : the brim has the cable moulding. The Church 
 is barren of monuments. One flat stone records the deaths of nine 
 children of Daniel and Elizabeth Howes, five of them in one year.
 
 /- EOTHEESTHOKPB. 93 
 
 1717. One of the Eotherstliorpe incumbents, George Preston, was 
 ejected by the Parliament Commissioners, and died in gaol at 
 Northampton. The churchyard is considerably higher than the 
 roadway, which surrounds three sides of it — by nearly a man's 
 height. The accumulated dust of generation after generation has 
 thus mounded it up. Like the Church, it does not seem to contain 
 any remarkable records of illustrious dead ; but it is a true village 
 churchyard, iu which one loves to linger. " Neighbourhood is at 
 hand without noise ; the fields stretch away into quiet remoteness ; 
 birds sing as cheerfully as in the homestead; and, in truth, the 
 churchyard itself seems but another homestead, into which fathers 
 and mothers and brotherhoods and children have gone to rest, just 
 as they might do into another and most quiet room." Grass and 
 flowering weeds clothe the graves with their luxuriant beauty, and 
 some pious hand has planted one of them with shrubs and flowers 
 — a graceful innovation. 
 
 " Shall I not take mine ease at mine inn ?" After a Ions: walk 
 and an exploration of the place, which is the object of it, Palstafl:"'9 
 exclamation seems natui"al enough. Perhaps the meny countenance 
 and sufficient proportions of mine host of the Chequers is suggestive 
 of it. No true rambler is exacting in the matter of his inn 
 accommodation. So that the interior is clean, and the hostess 
 good-humoured, and the host wears a proper host's welcome in his 
 visage, almost any modest refreshment will pass. One objects 
 only to a room that is at once very new, very formal, very bare, 
 and very pretentious, with nothing to support its pretence. 
 Rusticity and antiquity, the older and the more rustic the better, 
 are sure to content us. Give us a room so old that we can people 
 it with guests of past generations, and link it with some point of 
 historical interest, and we care not how humble its present estate 
 may be. A more humble hostelrie than the Chequers you will not 
 readily find, but it is a pleasant place to dream in and to bring 
 before us the "forefathers of the hamlet" for generations gone by. 
 Its exterior shows a rambling thatched cottage, which is approached
 
 94 llAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 througli a sort of fore-court, partaking of the character of a straw- 
 yard. On the right is a cow-house ; on the left some excellent 
 pig-sties. A pebbled pathway leads to the inn door, which has a 
 wicket before it, to protect it, we suppose, from possible invasions 
 of the denizens of the straw-yard. Lift the latch of the door on 
 the left within the wicket, and you will find yourself in a room 
 decidedly of other days. It is not very large, and is diminished by 
 a " settle," which gives an air of snugness to its huge fire-place. 
 The chimney-piece is of black oak, and low enough to make you 
 cautious how you lift youi' head when you pass under it. The 
 " chimney-corner," of the cosy comforts of which we know rather 
 in books than in reality, is here before us, though one is apt to 
 think it might have been pleasanter when wood was burnt on the 
 hearth than now that coal feeds the grate. The windows are deeply 
 recessed in the thick walls, and the shutter loops up to the ceiling, 
 the black oaken rafters of which are crossed with bars to hold in 
 the bacon. Artists love such " interiors ;" and think how the 
 Dutch masters would have treated them, and how surely, if some 
 of our living good men and true were to drop in here, they would 
 turn the scene to account. 
 
 St. John's Hospital, Northampton, was possessed of property 
 in Eothersthorpe as early as the time of Henry II., and we believe 
 it holds some portion of it to this day.
 
 iiitunm in |lcnt. 
 
 A nest 
 B'liilt in a Paradise ; a home where love 
 In its first wedded happiness might come 
 And find all Nature like its own pure heart, 
 A sanctuary for sorrow, seeking rest 
 And quiet, and all balmy influences. 
 For me, too, wandering Avith no other aim 
 Than to enjoy, and jot my sketch-book full 
 Of notes of pleasant places : it has charms 
 To make me linger day by day, nor care 
 (Though the bright heath and the all-glorious ocean 
 Lie m the distance) to pursue my way— 
 So be it ; all sufficient for the time 
 Be the time's happiness. 
 
 . The sun is high, 
 
 And lovely is this lane, chequered with shade, 
 From the o'er-hanging hop, our English vine', 
 Than which no vine clusters more gracefally. 
 What a bright bower it is ! The amber flowers 
 How well contrasted with the azure sky 
 Seen through the interstices ! The distant pickers 
 Dot with a bright red cloak or apron blue, 
 The green monotony. The air is redolent 
 Of that fine aromatic bitterness, 
 Gratefullest in the draft at early noontide. 
 And grateful now to the scent; the wind, mcthiuks, 
 Tastes of the wholesome herb.
 
 gg AUTUMN IN KENT. 
 
 My little room too, 
 Wherein tlie morning beams come sparklingly, 
 And sunset's calmer glories ; whence I see 
 The (lira grey grandeur of the ruined castle 
 And purple heaths of distant Txmbridge Wells. 
 Well could I rest me here content for ever, 
 So sunlights lingered here, too, all the year roiui 
 But the fierce winter comes, to calm delights 
 Of inland landscape hostile. Where the sea 
 Flings stern defiance to the angry sky 
 Mv winter haunts and winter home must he. 
 
 
 "^ 34 
 
 U -. 
 
 r imiWUlHtlUilLUI^iiiiiiirtl.lWtlMllllltBtMiHiiiiiil ltt
 
 Cotterstack. 
 
 UNDLE Station is nearly equidistant between the handsome 
 town whose name it bears and the pretty and thoroughly 
 Northamptonshire village of Cotterstock — if the latter is 
 farther it has the advantage of having the most rural walk 
 thither. A pedestrian has a choice of ways. He may 
 follow a lane running parallel with the railway till it is 
 intersected by the road, or he may go round by the road itself. 
 Both are pleasant. The Warmington and Peterborough road is as 
 level as a bowling-green ; wide, skirted with greensward and 
 bordered with trees. A picturesque turnpike (turnpikes may be 
 picturesque if they have been built long enough for Nature to tint 
 them) crosses the road. A little beyond, where you turn to the 
 left, the road is more of a bye-way — narrower, more rugged, and 
 with hedges and trees wandering more at their owir sweet will. 
 Crossing the railway we meet the lane already mentioned as the 
 shorter cut, and, turning to the right, continue along a country 
 road with gnarled trees in the hedge-rows, and pollard wUlows, 
 such as the sketcher loves, and fresh meadows in the intervals. 
 Another turn to the left, and before you is the mill, and on your 
 right the stately church, with its noble chancel. You cross the 
 river by a sufficient bridge, but the length of planking which 
 precedes it tells what the frequent willows had told before, of its 
 liability to floods, and how it was that the Poet Dryden thought
 
 *JS KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 tlie country tliereabouts might be agueish. Two centuries ago, 
 however, the Nene was less under control than it now is, the lands 
 adjacent more frequently and continuously flooded. A mill is 
 always a picturesque object, more or less ; tlie very nature of its 
 calling making it so : — 
 
 " The sleepy pool above the dam 
 The pool beneath it, never still, 
 The meal-sacks on the whiten'd floor. 
 
 The dark round of the dripping wheel, 
 The very air about the door 
 
 Made misty with the floating meal." 
 
 The hooded window for the hoisting apparatus ; the tilted waggon, 
 with its four horses ; the white sacks ; the millers themselves, help 
 the picture, and Tennyson's admirable portrait inevitably comes 
 to one's memory : — 
 
 " I see the wealthy miller yet. 
 
 His double chin, his portly size, 
 And who that knew him could forget 
 
 The busy wrinkles round his eyes ? 
 The slow wise smile that round about 
 
 His dusty forehead drily curl'd 
 Seemed half-within and half-without, 
 
 And full of dealings with the world." 
 
 Quiet meadows, through which the river winds its slow and 
 tortuous length, stretch right and left. The sites of mills are of 
 remotest antiquity, though the mill itself may be modern. The 
 present one is, we believe, comparatively so, not being over 60 years 
 old. Its predecessor was destroyed by fire. Two mills, one of 
 which no doubt stood here, are mentioned in the endowment of 
 a chantry in the time of Edward III. (1337). Crossing the mill- 
 stream, the road winds to the right, and then to the left, with 
 somewhat of an ascent, and then Cotterstock village begins very 
 prettily. A lane in an easterly direction, over-arched with ancestral 
 elms, leads to the church, its highly picturesque tower terminating 
 the vista. Busy rooks build iu the lofty branches, and caw what
 
 /- COTTEKSTOCK. 99 
 
 seems an intelligible and emphatic language. Now it is like tlic 
 soothing of a mother to her crying babes ; now a remonstrance 
 against some grievous wrong ; now an admission of redress obtained, 
 and a sense of satisfaction. The church, dedicated to St. Andrew, 
 has some very interesting features. A Norman doorway in the 
 tower speaks its early original : it has the chevron moulding Avell 
 preserved. In the upper stage of the tower, which is flanked by 
 two remarkably bold buttresses, is a late Norman window of two 
 lights. The disproportionate size of the immense chancel, with 
 its grand profusion of noble windows of the Decorated period, is 
 very noticeable. The south porch, of the Perpendicular period, 
 has a groined roof, with bosses, the central one being sculptured 
 with a representation of the Trinity. The chancel has a piscina 
 and three sedilia, under crocketted trefoil-headed canopies, on the 
 south side. On the north is an aumbry, and a door which 
 formerly led into the chantry or college founded by one John 
 Giffard in 1339, the remains of which have been converted into 
 cottages and farm buildings. Bridges says of it — " Contiguous 
 to the east end of the church, with a door out of the chancel, is a 
 house belong to Mr. Kirkham, supposed to stand upon the site of 
 the chantry." A brass record near the altar points out the resting- 
 place of a Provost of this chantry in 1420. The inscription runs 
 thus : — " Hie. jacet, magister. Robertus. Wyntrynghm. nuper. 
 canonicus. ecclie. cath. Lincoln. Prebendarius. de. Ledyngton. ac. 
 Prepositus. prepositus. sive. Cantarie. de. Cothrestoke. qui. obiit 
 ([uinto, die. Julii. Anno. Domini. Millimo. CCCCo.XXo cujus 
 anime, ppicietur. deus. Amen." Leland mentions it and says — 
 " One Nores clayming to be founder, even of late hath gotten away 
 the landes that longged to it. So that now remaineth only the 
 benefice to it." In the north east nook of the north aisle is a 
 curious bracket, k propos to nothing so far as we can see, but 
 which may have at some time carried a statue of a saint. It 
 represents the head and to the middle of the body of a man in a 
 tunic, with a belt round the waist, a cloak over his shoulders, a
 
 100 KAMBLES BOUND ABOUT : 
 
 cap, and flowing hair. With his left hand he forces aside his 
 mouth: with his right he plunges a dagger into his bosom. The 
 action of the left hand is that of a person in sudden agony ; the 
 eyes are staring in accordance with such an emotion. At first sight 
 the impression is very grotesque. The heft of the dagger is round, 
 and it has the appearance of a huge bolus, to enable him to gulp 
 which the holder is stretching his mouth with the left hand. A 
 close investigation only reveals the blade of the dagger. To what 
 story or fancy this grotesque sculpture refers— for grotesque it is, 
 Avhether its meaning be grave or burlesque — it is impossible to 
 say. The bolus fancy would not be an extravagant one, considering 
 what extraordinary license was allowed to the carvers of all kinds 
 of corbels and gargoyles in connexion with edifices the most sacred. 
 Near the porch is the base of a churchyard cross, with the remains 
 of an inscription, of which the following words alone are legible : — 
 
 lohs leet et * * 
 
 * * uxor ejus hanc * * 
 
 feceruiit fieri 
 So much time has left us to this day, and the lapse of nearly 
 a century does not appear to have diminished the inscription. 
 Bridges gives no more words and does not give them accurately. 
 He gives leef for leet— Leete being still a name in the 
 neighbourhood— and for " fieri" he writes " Eclam"— (ecclesiam), 
 as if John Leef and his wife made the church, instead of, as is 
 clearly intended, John Leet and his wife caused the cross to be 
 made which bears the inscription. Two monumental stones, one 
 sculptured with a human figure, with the hands crossed on the 
 bosom, and the other with a cross fleury, lie at the West end of the 
 church, ■ just outside the tower. Tlie churchyard is neatly kept. 
 It is considerably elevated above the surrounding meadows, and one 
 corner is protected by a piece of wrought iron-work of excellent 
 workmanship and taste. Cotterstock belfry rejoices in four bells, 
 double the number of that of Tansor. The churches are within 
 ear-shot of each other, and when they ring they are said to keep up
 
 ,^ COTTEBSTOCK. 101 
 
 the following- colloquy. Cotterstock, conscious of its superiority, 
 proudly and tauntingly asks with all its four bells : — " Who rings 
 the best ? who rings the best ?" To which little Tansor answers, 
 with a rapid and vehement defiance — " We do, We do. We do." 
 
 Eeturning from the church into the village we pass a pleasant 
 house, with the date 1720 on its front. Adjoining it is a farm 
 yard, very complete, compact, and under the hand of the master, 
 and evidently under a master's hand. 
 
 "A troop of pigeons, separate, three parts white, 
 Round the glad homestead wheeling at their ease," 
 
 add to the pleasantness of the scene. Beyond, the houses are 
 sufficiently separate, though in a line, to have gardens and trees 
 about them. A stranger would have some difficulty in finding the 
 shops, though there are such places, and a public-house, 
 distinguished by its sign, " The Gate," with the legend: — 
 " This Gate hangs well, and hinders none ; 
 Refresh and pay, and travel on." 
 
 A sober injunction Avith which nobody but a very rigid 
 teetotaller would quarrel. In the centre of the wide and very rural 
 street yet still thoroughly in the country proper, we see on the right, 
 on a rising ground, a stately and very attractive building, which has 
 memories connected with it more stately and attractive even than 
 itself. Cotterstock Hall has an Elizabethan character, though it 
 may be of a somewhat later time. At all events its gables and 
 projections are very picturesque in their forms and play of lights 
 and shadows. It stands, as it were, in a park, whicli the high road 
 intersects, cutting its way through an avenue of high trees, in fields 
 sloping westward. From the house the road would probably be 
 visible only as a path giving life, in its not over frequent passen- 
 gers, to the landscape. In this mansion, according to Bridges, 
 John Dryden wrote his Fables. Malone contradicts this statement 
 in words, though scarcely in substance. " In the autumn of the 
 year 1698," he says, " Dryden made an excursion from Titchmarsli 
 to Cotterstock, and appears to have passed a few weeks there ; and
 
 102 BAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 iu 1699 he spent full six weeks at tlie same house. Perhaps in 
 that time he wrote two or three hundred verses of the volume 
 afterwards published with the title of Fables, but that was the 
 utmost ; for he himself has told us that in his visits to the country 
 his object was to unweary himself, not to drudge." Bridges is not 
 fairly to be held to the letter of his statement. Two or three 
 iiundred verses is, after all, a fairish cantle, especially if they 
 included (which, all the circumstances considered, is probable), the 
 three famous opening lines of Cymon and Iphigenia, in which the 
 poet speaks in his own proper person : — 
 
 " Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit. 
 The power of beauty I remember yet. 
 Which once inflamed my soul, and still inspires my wit." 
 
 Cotterstock Hall was built by Norton, says Bridges, and 
 Malone echoes him. But neither tells us who Norton was, and we 
 iiave no clue to his identity. By whom, however, and when it was 
 l)uilt, this, at least, we know, that in 1698 it was the residence of 
 Elmes Steward, Esq., or Stewart, or Stuart, for Diyden, with the 
 careless orthography of those days, spelt the name all ways. Mr. 
 steward married Elizabeth, eldest daughter of John Creed, Esq., of 
 Oundle, secretary to Charles II., for the affairs of Tangier, by 
 Elizabeth Pickering, his wife, only daughter of Sir Gilbert Picker- 
 ing, Bart., Dryden's cousin german. Dryden, therefore, called Mrs. 
 Steward cousin, or as he usually wrote it, after the French fashion, 
 cousine. She appears to have been an accomplished lady : wrote 
 poetry, and was an artist. Malone says, the Hall at Cotterstock was 
 painted by her in fresco in a very masterly style, and she drew several 
 portraits of her friends in Northamptonshire, When Malone wrote, 
 towards the close of the last century, there was her own portrait, 
 painted by herself in the possession of a lady named Ord, who 
 lived in Queen Anne-street, and who was a kinswoman of hers. 
 We have never had the fortune to get inside the house at Cotterstock, 
 but we fear the frescoes have long since been obliterated. Towards 
 the close of the seventeenth century, Dryden used to visit this
 
 ,^ COTTBESTOCK, 103 
 
 cousin, and her husband, and there are several letters of his to both 
 still extant. The earliest is dated October 1st, 1698, at which time 
 Mrs. Steward had been married and had lived at the Hall six years. 
 Her distinguished cousin begins with the formal politeness of the 
 time. 
 
 " Madam — You have done me the honour to invite so often that it would 
 look like want of respect to refuse it any longer. How can you he so good to 
 an old decreped man [Dryden was at this time in his 68th year] who can 
 entertain you with uo discourse which is worthy of your good sense, and who 
 can only be a trouble to you in all the time he stays at Cotlerstock. Yet I will 
 obey your commands as far as possibly I can, and give you the inconvenience 
 you are pleas'd to desire, at least for the few days which I can spare from other 
 necessary business which requires me at Titchmarsh. Therefore, if you please 
 to send your coach on Tuesday next, by eleven o'clock in the morning, I hope 
 to wait on you before dinner. There is only one more trouble, which I am 
 almost ashamed to name. I am oblig'd to visit my cousin Dryden, of 
 Chesterton, some time next week, who is nine miles from hence and only five 
 from you. If it be with your convenience to spare me your coach thether for a 
 day, the rest of my time till Monday is at your service, and I am sorry for my 
 own sake it cannot be any longer this year, because I have some visits after my 
 return hether, which I cannot avoyd. But if it pleases God to give me life and 
 health, I may give you occasion another time to repent of your kindness, by 
 making you weary of my company. IMy sonn kisses your hand. Be pleas'd to 
 give his humble service to my cousin Steward, and mine, who am, madam, 
 " Your most obedient, oblig'd servant, 
 
 " John Dryden. 
 " For my Honour'd Cousine, Mrs. Steward, att Cotterstock, These." 
 The next letter is dated November 20 in the same year (1698), 
 and is addi'essed to Mr. Steward — " My honnour'd cousin," as it 
 begins. Dryden appears to have spent the few days mentioned in 
 the former letter with his Cotterstock friends, dispatched his business 
 at Titchmarsh, returned to Cotterstock, and spent four or five weeks 
 there. The present letter was apparently written after his return to 
 Titchmarsh, and as he was about to set off for London. " And 
 now," he says, " you are pleas'd to invite another trouble on your 
 self which our bad company may possibly draw upon you next 
 year if I have life and health to come into Northamptonshyre, and
 
 1 Oi EAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 that you will please not to make such a stranger of me another 
 
 time. I intend my wife [Lady Dryden Avas in London] shall tast 
 
 the plover you did rae the favor to send me. If either your lady 
 
 or you shall at any time honour me with a letter, my house is in 
 
 Gerard-street, the fifth door on the left hand comeing from 
 
 Newport-street." And he concludes, " My sonn and I kiss my 
 
 cousin Steward's hand, and give our service to your sister and 
 
 ]}retty Miss Betty." " Pretty Miss Betty" was a little lady under 
 
 six years old. Three days after, November 23, the Poet writes 
 
 again to Mrs. Steward. Keferring to his recent visit, hie says, " If 
 
 your house be often so molested, you will have reason to be w^eary 
 
 of it before the ending of the year, and wish Cotterstock were 
 
 planted in a desart an hundred miles off from any poet." He 
 
 contrasts the happiness of her company W'ith his solitary condition 
 
 on his return to Titchmarsh. " I had no woman to visite but the 
 
 parson's wife ; and she who was intended by nature as a help meet 
 
 for a deaf husband was somewhat of the loudest for my conversation ; 
 
 and for other things I will say no more than that she is just your 
 
 contrary, and an epitome of her own country," His journey to 
 
 London, he says, was yet more unpleasant than his abode at 
 
 Titchmarsh, " for the coach was crowded up with an old woman 
 
 fatter than any of my hostesses on the road. Her weight made the 
 
 horses travel very heavily." He writes again on December 12th, 
 
 acknowledging another present — "I," he says, " being eternally the 
 
 receiver and you the giver. I wish it were in my power to turn the 
 
 skale on the other hand, that I might see how you who have so 
 
 Kxcellent a wit, cou'd thank on your side. Not to name myself or 
 
 ray wife, my son Charles is the great commender of your last 
 
 received present : who, being of late somewhat indisposed, used to 
 
 send for some of the same sort, which we call heer marrow-puddings, 
 
 for his suppers ; but the tast of yours has so spoyl'd his markets 
 
 here, that there is not the least comparison betwixt them. * * 
 
 I am very glad to hear, my cousin your father, is comeing or come 
 
 to toun : perhaps this ayr may be as beneficiall to him as it has
 
 ,^ COTTERSTOCK. 105 
 
 been to me : but you tell me nothing of your own liealtli, and I fear 
 Cotterstock is too agueisli for this season." On Candlemas Day, 
 1698-9, he writes again. Mrs. Steward was evidently a favourite, 
 and the liking was reciprocated. She was a beauty as well as a 
 wit, and was, says Malone, " esteemed one of the finest women that 
 appeared at Queen Mary's Court." The opening sentence of this 
 letter is evidently the germ of the triplet already quoted : — 
 
 " Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit," &c. 
 
 " Old men," he says, " are not so insensible of beauty as it may be 
 you young ladies think. * * I would also flatter myself with 
 the hopes of waiting on you at Cotterstock sometime next summer ; 
 but my want of health may perhaps hinder me. But if I am well 
 enough to travell as farr northward as Northamptonshyre, you are 
 sure of a guest who has been too well us'd not to trouble you 
 again. * * I pass my time sometimes with Ovid and sometimes 
 with our old English poet, Chaucer ; translating such stories as 
 best please my fancy ; and intend besides them to add somewhat 
 of my own; so that it is not impossible but ere the summer be 
 pass'd I may come down to you with a volume in my hand like a 
 do-^^ out of the water with a duck in his mouth. As for the rarities 
 you promise, if beggars might be choosers, a part of a chine of 
 honest bacon would please my appetite more than all the marrow- 
 puddings, for I like them better plain, having a very vulgar 
 stomach." 
 
 In July of the following year (1699) he writes again. Amiable 
 Mrs. Steward continued to make presents, proud, no doubt, of her 
 distinguished kinsman, who would seem sometimes to have forgotten 
 to acknowledge them. But how gracefully he atones for his short- 
 
 comings 
 
 "Madam, — As I cannot accuse myself to have received any letters from 
 you without answer, so, ou the other side, I am obliged to believe it because you 
 say it. 'Tis true I have had so many fitts of sicl<ness, and so much otlier 
 unpleasant business, that I may possibly have received tliose favours and deferred
 
 lOfi RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 my acknowledgment till I forgot to thank you for them. However it be, I 
 cannot but confess that never was unansvveriug man so civilly reproach'd by a 
 fair lady. I presumed to send you word by your sisters of the trouble I 
 intended you this summer, and added a petition that you would please to order 
 some small beer to be brew'd for me without hops or with a very inconsiderable 
 quantity, because I lost my health last year by drinking bitter beer at 
 Titehmarsh. It may, perhaps, be sour, but I like it not the less, though it be 
 small enough. What els I have to request is, onely the favour of your coach 
 to meet me at Oundle, and to convey me to you, of which I shall not fail to 
 give you timely notice. My humble service attends my Cousin Stewart and 
 your relations at Oundle." 
 
 Dryden only shared a general prejudice against bitter beer, 
 occasioned by the supposition that hops were a pernicious drug. 
 The use of them in beer was forbidden by Henry VIII., but 
 their vahie in the preservation of liquor was so great that the 
 prohibition had small effect. A writer in 1649 says, although 
 " hops were then grown to be a national commodity, it was not 
 many years since the famous city of London petitioned the 
 Parliament of England against two nuisances, — and these were 
 Newcastle coals in regard to their stench, &c., and hops in regard 
 they would spoyl the taste of drink and endanger the people." 
 Prejudices die out very slowly, and half a century later we find 
 Dryden imagining that the fragrant bitter was injurious to his 
 health, though it scarcely appears that he thought it spoiled the 
 taste of the drink. His fancy that sour beer was the wholesomer 
 is curious. His injunction that it shall be " small enough " was 
 wise in a time when people were proud of having ale of the 
 strongest possible quality. On the 5th of August he writes 
 again : — 
 
 " Sunday, Aug. 5, 1C99. 
 " Madam, — Tiiis is only a word to threaten you with a troublesome guest 
 next week : I have taken places for myself and my sonn, in the Oundle coach 
 which sets out on Thursday next the tenth of this present August, and hope to 
 wait on a fair lady at Cotterstock on Friday the eleventh. If you please to let 
 your coach come to Oundle, I shall save my cousin Creed the trouble of hers.
 
 ,^ COTTERSTOCK. l07 
 
 All heer are your most humble Servants, and particularly an old cripple who 
 
 calls himself your most obliged Kinsman and Admirer, 
 
 " John Dryden, 
 
 " For Mrs. Stewart, Att Cotterstock near Oundle in Northamptonsh : 
 
 These. To be left with the Postmaster of Oundle." 
 
 Travelling was a cumbersome process in t.liose days. Dryden 
 took tis place in tlie Oundle stage five days before his proposed 
 journey, and the coach was to be two days on the road. Dryden 
 appears to have remained at Cotterstock over a month. His next 
 letter affords some amusing incidents of travel in those days. On 
 the 28th of September he writes : — 
 
 "Madam,— Your goodness to me will make you sollicitous of my welfare 
 since I left Cotterstock. My journey has in general been as happy as it cou'd 
 be without the satisfaction and honour of your company. 'Tis true the 
 Master of the Stage-coach has not been over civill to me ; for he turn'd us out 
 of the road at the first step and made us go to Pilton : there we took in a lair 
 young lady of eighteen and her brother a young gentleman ; they are related to 
 the Treshams, but not of that name ; thence we drove to Higham, where we 
 had an old serving-woman and a young iine mayd : we din'd at Bletso, and 
 lay at Silso, six miles beyond Bedford. There we put out the old woman, and 
 took in Councellour Jennings his daughter ; her father going along in the 
 Kittering coach or rideing by it with other company. "We all din'd at Hatfield 
 together, and came to toun safe at seaven in the evening. We had a young 
 doctor who rode by our coach and seem'd to have a smickering to our young 
 lady of Pilton and even rode before to get dinner in readiness. My sonn 
 Charles knew him formerly a Jacobite and now going over to Antigoo with 
 Colonel Codringtou having been formerly in the West Indies. Which of our 
 two young ladies was the handsomer I know not. My sonn liked the 
 Councellour's daughter best : I thought they were both equal]. But not going 
 to Titchmarsh Grove and afterwards to Catworth I missed my two couple of 
 rabbets which my cousin your father had given me to carry with me, and cou'd 
 uot see my sister by the way : I was likewise disappointed of Mr. Coles's 
 Ribadavia wine, but I am almost resolv'd to sue the Stage-coach for putting me 
 six or seven miles out of the way, which he cannot justify. Be pleas'd to 
 accept my acknowledgmeut of all your favours and my Cousin Stuart's ; and by 
 employing my sona and me in anything you desire to have done, give ns occasion 
 to take our revenge on our kind relations both at Oundle and Cotterstock. Be 
 pleas'd, your father, your mother, your two fair sisters and your brother, may
 
 lOS RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 find my sonn's service and mine made acceptable to them by your delivery ; and 
 believe me to be with all mauiier of gratitude, give me leave to add, all manner 
 of adoration, Madam your most oblig'd obedient servant John Dryden." 
 
 In October he writes again, beginning in the same gallant 
 strain : — 
 
 "I have been," he says, "so sensible of the loss of your charming 
 conversation ever since my departure that I assure you in all my travells I never 
 left any place with more reluctance than Cotterstock and never found any 
 satisfaction equall to what I enjoy'd there. * * Dr. Radclyff calls 
 Northamptonshire a shineing country, T doubt not but he means for hospitality : 
 and yet he has never been at Cotterstock. The two young gentlemen who sayd 
 they were almost starv'd with you had better fortune than I found, who can 
 complain of nothing but too much of a variety of daiutyes. But you it seems 
 were sparing to them of your company which had certainly been thrown away 
 upon them ; that I confess I had, and of that only I can never surfeit." 
 
 In November, 1699, Mrs. Steward's husband was appointed 
 sheriff of the county of Northampton, and on the 14th of December 
 Dryden writes : — 
 
 " I am heartily sorry that a chargeable office has fallen on my Cousin 
 Stuart. But my Cousin Driden comforts me that it must have come one time 
 or other, like the small pox and better have it young than old. I hope it will 
 leave no great marks behind it and that your fortune will no more feel it than 
 your beauty by the addition of a year's wearing. My cousine, your mother, 
 was beer yesterday to see my wife, though I had not the happiness to be at 
 home." • 
 
 The poet's last letter to his cousin was Avritten on the 11th of 
 April, 1700. On the 1st of the following May he died. 
 
 Nobody who can spare an hour or so between the trains should 
 fail to pay a visit to Cotterstock : for its own sake as a characteristic 
 Northamptonshire village with characteristic Northamptonshire 
 surroundings ; for the sake, too, of the great Northamptonshire 
 writer who was so welcome there, and who loved it and his fair 
 kinswoman, the life and charm of its picturesque hall. It is 
 seldom that the lapse of well-nigh two hundi'ed years changes so 
 little the haunts of our great men. Some inclosures possibly,
 
 /* COTTEBSTOCK. 109 
 
 better farming, an additional house bare and there, or a substitute 
 for the older one ; the mill larger probably, the river less wide- 
 spread and sedgy,— these, we may believe, make up the sum and 
 substance of the difference between Cotterstock as it is and 
 Cotterstock as it was in Dryden's day. The hall, the avenue, the 
 far-stretching meadows, and all the varied charms of country life, 
 are in the main as when he pondered there his noble verses. We 
 can without difficulty figure to ourselves the whole little drama — 
 the arrival of Cousin Steward's coach, probably with four stately 
 horses, for coaches in those days were heavy and solid in their 
 build and their weight, and and the rough roads which tliey bad 
 to travel required more borse-flesli than our modern light-springed 
 vehicles ; and a costly equipage was part of the necessary state of 
 a squire of rank enough to be high-sheriff of the county. There 
 are outriders too, and when the coach draws up before the hall, 
 liveried servants are at the porcb to receive the visitor, and, better 
 than all, the smiling beauty of Queen Mary's court, in all the 
 glory of stomacber and looped gown and flounces and falbalas and 
 lofty laced cap in tiers, comes forward with cordial hand and bright 
 intelligent eye. The squire is following the chase, of which he is 
 very fond, and of which there are ample tokens in the hall, crowning 
 the frescoes of his lady. Dryden's fine countenance is set off by 
 an ample wig, the curls of which flow over his shoulders. He lifts 
 gallantly his hat, cocked all round and trimmed with feathers, as 
 he alights. His coat and waistcoat reach to the knees, and the 
 long stockings over-lap his nether garments. He wears high-heeled 
 shoes, with a tongue coming over the instep, and fastened with a 
 rosette. Dogs of many kinds, among which the diminutive King 
 Charles's breeed is conspicuous, yelp a choral Avelcome to the 
 hospitable mansion. 
 
 Such, at least, is the fancy that besets us passing the hall, 
 and we take off our hats reverentially, alike to the poet and the 
 beauty, though the place knows them no more. 
 
 All this part of our country was evidently long in the hands
 
 110 KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 of tlie Eoraans ; traces of these masters of the world crop up 
 everywhere. At Cotterstock, about the beginning of July, 1736, 
 a very fine pavement was discovered, of which a very particular 
 account was given in the Northampton Mercury of March 28, 
 1737. The site was at the edge of the lordship, adjoining to 
 Glapthorn field, on a headland commonly called The Guild Acre. 
 " The verge or margin of the work Avas seven feet wide ou each 
 side, and consisted of red, light blue, and grey stones, all of them 
 about an inch and^a quarter square. The work within the margin 
 was ten feet square exactly, and consisted of lesser stones and 
 bricks, each about the bigness of dice, or six-tenths of an inch 
 square, of three different colours, viz., white, red, and blue, and set 
 in various and most beautiful figures, as chain work, maze work, 
 ScC, in the midst whereof were placed in a circular order the figures 
 of four hearts, beautifully wrought, and pointing with their vertices 
 towards the centre." So much for our description contemporary 
 with the discovery. The Society of Antiquaries published an 
 engraving of it, by Virtue, after drawings by George Lynn, of 
 Southwick, and Wm. Bogdan, Esq., by which we find that the 
 " chain work" was what is known as the guilloche border, and the 
 " maze work" an interlaced Greek fret. Animal bones, ashes, 
 pieces of urns, three or four oyster shells, and as many large nails 
 were found among the rubbish. The pavement was soon destroyed 
 by the ignorant curiostity of a multitude of visitors. " Some 
 ingenious workmen," however, as the narrative continues, " were 
 employ'd by a certain person of great distinction (with the leave 
 of the owner) to take up about a yard square of this admirable 
 W'Ork, that a specimen of it might be preserv'd. The owner was a 
 Mr. Campion, who is described as " a gentleman farmer," and who 
 may be the " John Campion, gent," who lies buried in the south- 
 east aisle of the church, and who died in 1766, and was recorded 
 as " An honest man, who bore a painful decline." Some brass 
 coins of Valentinian, with different reverses, were also in the " find" 
 and " a very large freestone," which Mr. Campion converted into a
 
 ,^ COTTERSTOCK. Ill 
 
 watering trough for cattle, and several stones like foundation stones, 
 from which the writer of the account inferred " that the particular 
 edifice which the pavement did formerly adorn was most probably 
 an iEdes Sacra." 
 
 Turning to " Gibson and Gough's Castor," we find the 
 inscription on the base of the cross at the church porch quoted 
 from Bridges, with the addition of "et Jacklen," as the missing 
 name of the wife and " fieri," which does not appear in Bridges. 
 These words are said to have been supplied "from another copy" 
 (what copy is not stated), and the writer adds, " but this inscription 
 is not now to be distinguished." Nor are the two antique stones, 
 on one of which is cut a rude figure of a man with his hands on 
 his bosom, and on the other a cross to be seen in the yard near the 
 west end of the church, unless the latter be the cross at the end of 
 the stone bench. Between Bridges' time and the publication of 
 Gough's book, the inscription on the cross and the figure of the 
 man had got buried in the increasing earth. We believe their 
 recovery is due to a former churchwarden, Mr. Everest.
 
 giitl]. €i}cuing from Clcbdanlr f.ribgc. 
 
 HE piirple mists of evening on thy Avails ; 
 The parting sunbeam on the Abbey -towers, 
 And tonching with brief gold these Avon boAvers ; 
 The poplar shade that in the river falls 
 With deepest darkness ; distant childhood's calls ; 
 The bather's splash among the water-flowers ; 
 The chimes that sweetly knell the dying hours ; 
 Weave a strange spell that all the heart enthrals. 
 
 'Tis like the lotus-land of poesy ! 
 
 Fair city ! wlien the time that thou art not 
 Poetic laud ? morning's first brilliancy 
 
 Lifts us to heaven upon thy hills ; and wliat 
 A crown of radiance shines at night on thee. 
 Cresting thy circling hills with starry glee.
 
 ^0iuccstn\ 
 
 OWCESTER lies upon tlie "right noble street," as 
 
 Drayton calls the AVatling-street, and like most towns 
 
 situated on a great thoroughfare, which retains its 
 
 ^Y^)'tv character of an ancient way, is a pleasant place. Towns 
 
 J^ which have a manufacture grow about equally on all 
 
 sides ; space is an object ; house crowds upon house ; 
 
 gardens are few and far between, and are shut in by tall walls ; 
 
 fortunate if they are not neighboured by a tall chimney to fill the 
 
 roses Avith " blacks," and disfigure the young mistress who goes 
 
 out in the moruino: — 
 
 To gather flowers partie white and red, 
 To make a sotel garland for her head — 
 
 with soot and sneezes. When the chief business of the inhabitants 
 is dependent on the through traffic, the houses keep chiefly in a 
 line, and do not extend laterally. So in the rear are large inn 
 yards and pleasant gardens, with the country stretching far away 
 behind them, and the breath of Heaven smelling " wooingly." 
 This form of tfnvn has grown of course, out of the old modes of 
 travelling — by pack-horse, waggon, stage-coach, mail. The railway 
 revolution will necessarily change it in process of time. When it 
 is no longer to people's interest to have their houses lying specially 
 along the main road, streets will spring up at right angles and 
 
 u
 
 11 J" RAMBLES roundabout: 
 
 wrong angles of all kinds, as in manufacturing towns. But that 
 time is not yet with Towcester. Let us sketch it, not as it may 
 be, but as it is. 
 
 The approaches to Towcester are pleasant on all sides, with 
 the exception of that subnrb which is like a long, lean arm, 
 stretching out towards London, and even that is not without 
 interest to the saunterer. " Jubilee-row," to be sure, is not 
 attractive in any sense, but there are plenty of olden houses, which 
 have their history as it were written on the face of tliein, and there 
 is picturesqueness in the irregularity and utter jumble of buildings 
 of all dates, and sizes, and qualities ; somewhat stately well-to-do 
 houses elbowed by thatched cottages, and shops whose windows 
 exhibit a few oranges, dingy bottles of lollipops, and biscuits, not 
 of yesterday's baking. How thoroughly the town was once a town 
 of inns may be sufficiently seen in this suburb. Those lofty 
 gateways which now lead to tumble-down workshops, or to small 
 tenements for the poorer classes, led, in the old time, to spacious 
 yards for the reception of various merchandize, and were surrounded 
 with stabling, and warehouses, and dormitories. The picturesque 
 and comfortable-lookiiig " Sun Inn " may be taken as the type of 
 many others, which have ceased to exist, in its general aspect 
 towards the street. We dare say, too, its landlord, may be taken 
 as the type of many a genial host, who, during the two centuries 
 that have elapsed since it was built (it bears the date 1650 on its 
 front), has cheered the weary traveller with that welcome which, 
 according to Shenstone, is found warmest at an inn.* " The 
 Talbot " and the " Pomfret Arms " appear to be of later date, but 
 they stand upon the sites of older inns, and retain the spacious 
 yards and ample entrances so indispensable to the hosteh'ies of old 
 times. The Talbot indeed is really much older than its exterior 
 would lead us to suppose. It was probably an inn in the time 
 of Chaucer, for in 1440 it was sold to Archdeacon Sponne, 
 
 *Since this Ramble was written the " Sun " has also rcased to exist as an inn.
 
 ,^ TOWCESTER. 1 ] 5 
 
 the good rector of Towcester, who in 1450-1 gave the house 
 to the town, and in the deed it is described as the " Tabard," 
 which was also the name of the poet's famous inn in the 
 borough of Southwark. The latter changed its name in 167(5. 
 Through the courtesy of the feoffees of Sponne's Charity, we 
 have obtained a sight of the very interesting series of documents 
 connected with that trust. They are excellently kept in a box in 
 the Church, and inch^de a long series of deeds, with the seals, 
 beginning with the early part of the fourteenth century ; and the 
 accounts of the receipts and disbursements of the feoffees from a 
 very early date. From the latter we ascertain the exact time when 
 the change was made of the name of the Tabbard for the Talbot. 
 In ] 642 it is entered on the accounts as the Tabbard ; the next 
 year, 164.3, it is called the Talbot. All entries, previous to that 
 date, call it the Tabbard ; all subsequent the Talbot. With the 
 reason for the change we are still unacquainted. It was made a 
 considerable tinae previous to the date of the change of the 
 Southwark Tabard, Avhich did not take place before 1667. In tliar 
 year occurred the great fire of Southwark, by which the inn was 
 partially destroyed, and Aubrey, writing about it some years after, 
 says : — " The ignorant landlord or tenant, instead of" the ancient 
 sign of the Tabard, put up the Talbot, a dog." The Talbot, a 
 white hound, was the cognizance of the ancient house of 
 Shrewsbury, which may have had something to do with the change 
 of name. Nearly five-and-twenty years before the landlord or 
 tenant of the Southwark Tabard manifested his ignorance, as ■ 
 Aubrey calls it, we find the feoffees of Sponne's Charity 
 r.^-christening their inn in the same way. The two different names 
 occur in adjoining pages of the same book, within a dozen entries 
 of each other; and, as we have said, the Talbot continues to be the 
 Talbot ever after, with the variations of spelling characteristic of 
 the time, as "Talbut" and " Talbott." It never relapses into 
 " Tabbard," as it might be expected to do if the change had been 
 made, not of set purpose, but by ignorance. In 1642 John Talbot,
 
 J 1 G RAMBLKS ROUNDABOUT. 
 
 tlie second Earl of Shrewsbury, fell in a fight before Northamplcm 
 between the forces of the Parliament, who held the garrison under 
 Lord Brooke, and the Cavaliers. A few months after the fire in 
 Sonthwark, an event occurred which again made the name of 
 Talbot familiar to the public ear. On the 16th of January, 1668, 
 a duel was fought in a close near Barne Kims, between Francis 
 Talbot, eleventh Earl of Shrewsbury, Sir John Talbot, and Bernard 
 Howard, a son of the Earl of Arundel, on o-ne side ; and the Duke 
 of Buckingham, Sir Robert llolmeg, and Captain William Jenkins 
 on the other. The Earl of Shrewsbury had challenged tire Duke 
 of Buckingham, who had supplanted him in the affections of his 
 wife, the daughter of the second Earl of Cardigan. She is said to 
 have held the Duke's horse, in the habit of a page, while he was 
 fighting with her husband. " My Lord Shrewsbui-y," says Pepys, 
 "is run through the body from the right breast throRgh the 
 shoidder ; and Sir John Talbot all along up one O'f hi» annes, and 
 Jenkins killed upon the place, and the rest all in a little measure 
 wounded." The Earl died of his wounds on the 16th of March 
 succeeding the duels. The Countess of Shrewsbury found a second 
 husband, notwithstanding the infamous notoiiety of her conduct 
 towards the first, and died in 1702. A portrait of her by Lely, as 
 Minerva, was bought by the late Sir Robert Peel, at the Stowe sale, 
 for £68 OS. It does not follow that in either case the events led 
 to the substitution of the name of Talbot for the original Tabard, 
 but the double coincidence of the; change of name with events 
 Gonnected with the Talbots is at least curious. Talbot may have 
 been a mere corruption of Tabbard after the latter name had become 
 obsolete with the disuse of the tabard itself. The tabard was a 
 sleeveless coat, open on both sides, with a square collar, and 
 winged at the shoulders ; " a stately garment of olde time," says 
 Stowe, "commonly worne of noblemen and others, both at home and 
 abroade in the warres, but then (to witte in the warres) theyre arms 
 embrodered, or otherwise deplete upon them, that every man by his 
 coate of amies might Ije knowne from others ; but nowe these
 
 *• 
 
 TOWCESTER. 1 17 
 
 Tabardes are only worue by the Heraults, and bee called their 
 coats of amies in service." AVe find by these interesting and 
 valuable feottee accounts, that in the 35 th year of the reign of 
 Henry the 8th (1544), the Tabard was in the occupation of one 
 John Kyslingbury, at a yearly rent of £Q 13s. 4d. In 1687 the 
 rent had increased to £35, but it may have had land with it, which 
 would account for the increased value. " The Tabard " was, no 
 doubt, an ordinary sign formerly for an inn, and so was " The 
 Bell," Chaucer speaks of — 
 
 " This gentil ostelrie 
 
 That highte the Tabbard faste by the Bell." 
 
 And there was a " Bell "' also in Towcester, as well as a " Tabbard." 
 It is mentioned in an enfeoffment as "le Bell" in 1473. An inn 
 called the " Old Bell," probably the descendant of " le Bell," stood, 
 within these three years, at the corner of the Braekley road, at the 
 north-west end of the town. In one of the upper windows at the 
 Talbot are the arms of Archdeacon Sponne, with his name beneath, 
 " William Sponn." In a tap-room, lying backwards in the yard, 
 is a huge chimney beam, formerly belonging to the kitchen, upon 
 which is carved the figure of a dog (the Talbot), and the initials on 
 either side T. 0. and G- S., with the date, 1707. One of the 
 heir-looms of the house is an oak chair, with the back ornamentally 
 carved, and the initials B., and underneath W. A., 1627. It is 
 known as Dean Swift's chair, the tradition being that the Dean of 
 St. Patrick's used to occupy it when he put up at the Talbot in his 
 journeys to and from Ireland and London, Under the management 
 of Mr, Tuunard the Talbot achieved a reputation of being one of 
 those inns in which the traveller exclaims with Palstaffe — " Shall 
 I not take mine ease at mine inn ?" and to its host might be fairly 
 applied the eulogy which Chaucer bestowed on his host of the 
 Southwark Talbot — 
 
 "A fairer burgess was there none in Chcpe" — 
 that is, there was not a more honest and upright tradesman in the
 
 nS RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 market place. i\Ir. Tuniiard left the Talbot for the Poinfret 
 Anns, which had long been in sore need of a good land- 
 lord. 
 
 The Pomfret x\rms is apparently not two centuries old, and was 
 once the Saracen's Head. It stands advantageously to welcome 
 comers from all the four points of the compass at the southern 
 corner of the Brackley road, and Mr. Tunnard has added to its 
 convenience by opening a new entrance towards the Brackley road. 
 The figures of Apollo and Venits, in the niches on either side th(; 
 gateway from the street, probably came from Easton Neston. They 
 have the appearance of having, at some period, adorned a stately 
 garden, and may have been removed when tlie Italian garden at 
 the south front of the mansion was done away with. Bridges, 
 referring to Morton's account of the Marmora Arundeliana, Avhich 
 in part ornamented the gardens, says the statues Avere not all 
 antique, for upon the pedestals of three were the inscription 
 Egidius Morettus, Romanus faciehat, whose " fine Eoman hand," 
 it is not unlikely, may be traceable in these figures. One of them, 
 indeed, is wliat may be called an etlition, with additions, of the 
 Yenns d'e Medici. 
 
 There was an " Aungell" Inn in Towcester in 1448. It 
 a-djoiaed the Talbot on the south, on the site of the premises 
 belonging to Mr. J. M. Cooke, the solicitor. In the feoffee 
 accounts occurs an item, in the reign of Henry VII., a payment 
 to one Edward Dene, " for cleansyng of the guttyr betwyx the 
 Tabard and the Aungell, Id." Up to a comparatively recent 
 period it was a waggon yard ; greatly used before the opening of 
 the Grand Junction Canal. Towcester must, at one time, have 
 been almost entirely a street of inns. On the north of the Talbot 
 stood the Swan; there was a "Bell," besides the "Old Bell" 
 already mentioned; and a second "White Horse," on the sit(^ 
 of the present residence of Mr. R. W. Watkin, the surgeon, 
 ilirectly facing the Pomfret Arms. 
 
 But the chief coaching and posting inn of Towcester, in the
 
 TOWCESTER. 119 
 
 palmy days of coacking, was the White Horse, wliicli was put,, to 
 use a pun of tlie period, hors de combat by the railway. The 
 premises are now occupied as Wine Vaults by Mr. Vernon. 
 
 Bickerstatfe's Alms Houses have nothing in the way of 
 antiquity (they were rebuilt in 1815) or architecture to recommend 
 t liem, but they look comfortable . The tablet which the founder 
 set up is still there, and is worth noting. It bears the following 
 inscription : — 
 
 " He that earneth 
 Wages by labour 
 and care, by the 
 blessing of God may have 
 something to spare. T. B., 1689." 
 
 Charitable Mr. BickerstafFe, of course, meant only to explain how 
 it came about that he was able to do this good work ; but his 
 doggrel verse will bear the additional meaning of a gentle reproof 
 to the inmates that they too might have had something to spare if 
 they had taken care. 
 
 It is in contemplation, we believe, to rebuild the Grammar 
 School House. The house itself, much modified, is the original 
 Chantry House founded by Archdeacon Sponne. Externally, it 
 appears to be nothing more than an ordinary house of a couple of 
 hundred years old, but one of the rooms retains very much of its 
 Tudor character; the fire-place, ceiling, and doors are very 
 interesting. The wall which encloses the house from the street is 
 of the same period, and the entrance is under a very perfect Tudor 
 arch. If the school-house should be rebudt, it is to be hoped that 
 this arch will be preserved. 
 
 Not the least interesting house in Towcester, however, is one 
 on the west side of the Market-place, south of the Talbot, in the 
 occupation of Mr. Joseph Key, and used as a butcher's shop. It 
 is a good specimen of the ordinary houses in towns and villages in 
 the days of Henry VIII. and Queen Elizabeth. The upper part 
 has been modernized, and the timbering plastered over ; but all
 
 120 
 
 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 beneatli the pcnt-liouse remains as when it was originally built at 
 least three hundred years airo. 
 
 This interesting relic of old time belongs, we believe, to Lord 
 Pomfret, in whose custody, we hope, it is secure from destruction. 
 
 Towcester is mentioned in the curious journal of Drunken 
 Barnaby, which was written in the early part of the seventeenth 
 century, as " Tosscter whet-e he sate up all night" : — 
 
 " Veni Tosseter die Martis, 
 Ubi baccalaureura artis 
 Bacchanalia celebrantem 
 Ut iaveui tarn constantein 
 Feci me cousortem i'esti 
 Tola node perlioncsti."
 
 ,^ TOWCESTER 121 
 
 " Theace to Tosseter, on a Tuesilay, 
 Where an artful bauhelur choos'd I 
 To consort with : we ne'er budged, 
 But to Bacchus revels trudged : 
 All the night long sate we at it, 
 Till we both grew heavy-pated." 
 
 " Towcester," says De Foe, "is a pretty town of Iloiuau 
 antiquity ; through which, in a straight line, runs the VVatling-street. 
 The inhabitants, of all ages, are here employed in a silken 
 manufacture and lace-making." The silk manufacture has long 
 since died out. Of the Eoman antiquity of Towcester there can 
 be no doubt. Its very form indicates its origin. The market 
 place at once suggests the site of the forum ; where the Church 
 now stands, stood, in all probability, the basilica of our Koman 
 conquerors ; Beny Mount, Bury Hill, the Hill Garden, as it is 
 variously called, being the site of the pretorium. One need not 
 enter here into a question which may be considered as satisfactorily 
 settled, whether Towcester is the Lactodorum of the Itinerary of 
 Antoninus, All the evidence points to that conclusion ; coins 
 innumerable, fragments of pottery, and Samiau-ware have been dug 
 up from time to time ; and discoveries of the same kind are 
 continually being made. In the autumn of 1859, when the old 
 Bell was pulled down, a beautiful little Roman lamp in terra cotta 
 was found in excavating the foundations. It is as perfect and as 
 fresh in appearance as when it came from the hands of the maker. 
 From the handle to the extremity of the burner the length is about 
 three and a-half inches. The potter's name— FOKTIS— in very 
 distinct characters, crosses the circle at the bottom. Mr. Eoach 
 Smith, in his Collectanea, gives the name as occurring on earthen 
 lamps found in London. There was also found an article in iron, 
 the use of which is somewhat doubtful, though it is now generally 
 supposed to be a shoe for cattle. In Mr. lloach Smith's 
 " Illustrations of Roman London," we liiid figured a similar article 
 found in London, and in the " CoUectaueu Anliqua " is the figure
 
 122 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 of another in the Evreux Museum. Mr. Roach Smith states thiit 
 they have been found at Stony Stratford, at Springhead, near 
 Gravesend, at other places in this country, at Autun, Dijon, and 
 other localities in France. He suggests that they were used only 
 for temporary purposes, where the feet of the animal were diseased, 
 or the ways were particularly bad. At the present day, in Holland, 
 it is usual to bind, with a thong of leather, long flat iron shoes to 
 the horse's feet. Catullus speaks of a mule leaving its iron shoe 
 in the mud — 
 
 " In gravi derelinquere coeno 
 Ferream ut soleain tenaci ia voragine mula," 
 
 and he is of opinion that it is of this kind of shoe the poet speaks. 
 It has been doubted whether the Greeks and Romans nailed on 
 tlieii' horse-shoes, but horse shoes with holes for the nails have been 
 found in the very places where these temporary shoes (supposing 
 them to be so) have been met with. If they are shoes at all, we 
 must infer that some of the roads at least were mere quagmires, so 
 that it was necessary to have a kind of snow-shoe to prevent the 
 animal from fairly sinking into the mud. Its length is six inches. 
 The ears, which form a marked characteristic, would appear to be 
 for the purpose of attaching the shoe by means of leather ligaments 
 to the leg of the animal. A knife, probably of the time of Henry 
 VII., and nine inches in length, has recently been found in an old 
 drain. All these articles, and a beautiful coin of Vespasian, also 
 found in Towcester, are in the possession of Mr. S. C. Tite. 
 
 People may be very fiimiliar with Towcester without knowing 
 anything of the Berry Mount, and know of its existence without 
 being aware that it possesses any special interest. Yet it is, 
 undoubtedly, connected with important events in the history of the 
 little town. It lies out of the track of ordinary life. The visitor 
 who would search it out must turn down the Churcb Lane, and 
 take the turn to the left, instead of going down to the Mill. A 
 little wav down on the right, bevond the houses, is a garden,
 
 TOWCESTER. 123 
 
 within which rises a mount of considerable height, with a circuhir 
 
 top — 
 
 — " Crowned with a peculiar diadem 
 Of trees, in circular array, so iix'd 
 Not by the sport of nature, but of man "-^ 
 
 a hollow has been scooped out of its southern side, and a cottage 
 built in the gap. The mount is between twenty and thirty feet 
 high, and its diameter about twenty-four feet. The summit 
 commands a view of Lord Pomfret's park and the river Tove, a 
 branch of which runs immediately beneath. It is easy to see that 
 tlie hill has been moated all round. 
 
 The Church, dedicated to St. Laurence, like most of our 
 churches, is of various styles ; there are traces of all, from Norman 
 downwards to Perpendicular. There is a noble tower and west 
 door. The chancel arch springs from two corbels, representing 
 figures of jesters in grotesque attitudes. Some fragments of 
 painted glass in a window in the south aisle are the remains of a 
 window which was destroyed by the puritanical zeal of one Robert 
 Stichbery. Baker quotes a pamphlet published in 1642, which 
 states that two days after his wife was seized with a sudden 
 torment in her limbs, which, ultimately, " brought her to her last." 
 Stichbery himself died howling mad. His sister, who had a 
 Coinuion Prayer bound up with her Bible, tore it out, upon which 
 her hands, says the pamphlet, " began presently, in a most strange 
 manner, to rot, the flesh flying from the bones : and so continueth 
 up to this present, rotting in a most fearful and loathsome manner. 
 And in regard great store of people come to see her, and being so 
 extreme loathsome, that by the neighbours she is removed a mile 
 out of the town, where she remains, lamenting much that she hath 
 done so wretched and wicked a deed." The monument to 
 Archdeacon Sponne, who was rector in the reign of Henry \' 1., 
 represents that worthy ecclesiastic under two aspects — in his habit 
 as he lived, on the .upper part of the table, and as a skeleton, or
 
 124. KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 nearly so, on the uiulerpart. He has this inscription at his feet on 
 a board against the wall : — 
 
 " In memory of Mr. William Spoane, archdeacon of Northfolk and rector 
 of Towcester, who in the 29th year of King Henry the VI., gave the Talbc) 
 Ion, in Towcester, with the lands belonging to it, for the payment of the 
 fifteens for the parish of Towcester, if any such tax be given by Parliament ; 
 if no such be given, then to pave and repair the pavements in the streets of 
 Towcester, and the pavements being made good, the remainder to be given to 
 the poor at the discretion of the feoffees appointed to manage the same." 
 
 Excellent archdeacon ! Happy Towcester! Happy Northampton 
 if a few of his worthy stock had belonged to it, and exempted it 
 also from its " Improvement Eate \" In the chancel is a small 
 mural monument, having the effigies of a man and a woman 
 praying at a table. The inscription informs us that it is — 
 
 " The memorial of Hierom Farmore, Esq., and Jane, his wife. They lived 
 together in wedlock forty-two years, and he attained to the honour of a great 
 grand uncle, and after 74 years left this life for a better, September the 7th, 
 1602." 
 
 Then follow these two punning verses : — 
 
 " Terra subest pars parta mei, pars indita supra, 
 Terrea pars moritur, coslica pars superest, 
 Sed periit pars parva mei, ])ar8 maxima vivit, 
 Vilior ista jacet, sanctior ilia viget. 
 "Hierom thy joys all shine on high, 
 
 Thy faith and truth did shine before ; 
 Jaue lived thine and will so dye, 
 
 All praise thy life, thy life Farmoee." 
 
 The Latin verse may be Englished thus ; the aUiterative Avhim 
 being impossible to render: — 
 
 Earth-sprung, a part of me in earth here lies 
 
 Part heavenward flies ; 
 The earthly part is dead, the heavenly stays : 
 
 The smaller part decays. 
 The greater lives ; the viler part lies here, 
 The holier blossoms iu auulhcr sphere.
 
 ,^ TOWCESTEB. 125 
 
 Pope Bonifaca was possessed of this benefice at tlie time of 
 his promotion to the pontificate iu 1294. He is said to have 
 obtained the papal chair by a profane artifice. His predecessor, 
 Pope Celestine V., had held his sacred oflB^ce but five months and 
 seven days. Boniface, according to the story, procm-ed somebody 
 to address the Pope through a concealed speaking trumpet thus — 
 •' Coelestine, Coelestine, diraitte papatum, si vis salvs fieri ; negotium 
 supra vires est." " Coelestine, Coelestine ; lay aside the popedom 
 if thou wishest to be saved ; the duties are beyond thy strength." 
 Coelestine took the voice to be from Heaven, and resigned 
 accordingly, and Boniface vi^as installed in his place. 
 
 Towcester is peculiarly fortunate in its exemptions from local 
 burthens. Not only has it no paving rates to pay, but Providence 
 and charitable JVIr. Bickerstafte, who built the Alms Houses already 
 mentioned, have saved it also from a water rate. Two excellent 
 springs at the northern and southern extremities of the town keep 
 up a constant supply of good water, and, by the will of Mr. 
 Bickerstaffe, one of them is walled in, and an iron dish supplied for 
 poor wayfaring people to drink out of. 
 
 Towcester, one of the most peaceable and social of towns, has 
 seen its troubles. It was probably a strong place during the 
 Eoman dominion, and suffered the fate which befel the other places 
 along the line of Roman occupation at the hands of the destroying 
 Dane. About 917 King Edward, the son of Alfred the Great, 
 rebuilt it. It gallantly withstood an assault by the Danes from 
 Northampton and Leicester for a whole day, and succour arriving, 
 the enemy were compelled to retire. Edward afterwards fortified 
 it, and encompassed it with a wall of stone. It was probably of 
 these remains that Leland was told as " certcn mines or diches of 
 a castelle at Towcester." Baker thinks it probable that Edward's 
 fortification followed the Eoman line of circumvallation. Camden 
 savs that with all his seeking he could find no token of any such wall. 
 In the civil war of the i7th century Towcester was the principal 
 garrison of the royalists, under Prince Rupert, to keep iu check
 
 120 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 the Parliamentarians, who were in considerable force at North- 
 ampton and Newport Pagnell, in the autumn of 1G43. The prince 
 made the town very strong, and brought the water round it. He 
 must have been an unwelcome guest, for he levied contributions 
 from the inhabitants, of man's meat and horse meat, and labour of 
 ;ill sorts, on pain of " the total plundering and burning of your 
 houses, with what other mischiefs the licensed and hungiy soldiers 
 can inflict upon you." The Commissar^' General lay at Ambrose 
 Burton's house, " over against the Talbot." We learn, also, from 
 this warrant, that among the inns were the signs of " The Petty 
 Bridges" and "The Eunning Mare." On the 12th of June, two 
 (lavs before the memorable battle of Naseby, Towcester was the 
 head quarters of General Fairfax, and in January, 1646, of Colonel 
 Whalley. 
 
 In Mr. Elliot's interesting Paper on " Parish Registers," the 
 stationariness of the popidation of Northampton and the adjoining 
 parts of the county is inferred from the existence in the town of 
 very many surnames derived from neighbotiring places in the 
 county ; and from names which, appearing in the town registers 
 during the 16th and early part of the 17th centuries, are still 
 familiar to the ear in Northampton. Of course Mr. Elliot refers 
 to the pecidiar stationariness of the population in question as 
 compared with the populations of other places ; he Avould hardly 
 build a " pet theory" with reference to Northamptonshire upon facts 
 common to all or nearly all other places. Is Northamptonshire, 
 then, peculiarly stationary in its population? We suspect not. 
 Our own observation, on the contrary, tends to the opposite 
 conclusion. We should have said that Northamptonshire people 
 were a very migratory race. We have met with them or heard of 
 them pretty well all the world over. Great names of emigrants 
 rise in the memory without an effort : — Washington, Franklin, Sir 
 Paul Pinder, Sir William Laxton, Carey, Uyland— the latest repre- 
 sentative of that honoured name, though resident till his death in 
 Northampton, was born at Bristol, whither his father emigrated—
 
 /* TOWCESTER. 127 
 
 (,'larke (tlie father of Cow den Clarke), a Nortliaraptouslure man, 
 eiuigTated to Enfield, wliere his eminent sou, we believe, was born. 
 We should not, indeed, be surprised to find some Northamptonshire 
 ]\lrs. Hopkins 
 
 " taking tea 
 And toast upon the wall of China." 
 
 Mr. Elliot, by-the-bye, seems to have overlooked the pro- 
 bability that, where the names of persons are obviously taken from 
 the names of places, the inference is, not that the population was 
 stationary, but rather on the eontrary, that it was migratory. John 
 would hardly be called " of Lowick " or " Lowick," by way of dis- 
 tinguishing him from other Johns equally existent in Lowick. He 
 Avould be called " John of Lowiek " after he had miijrated to 
 Northampton or London, to distinguish him from the Johns of 
 Northampton, or the Johns of Hoekley-in-the-Hole. Names 
 taken from callings may imply stationariness ; names derived from 
 places almost necessarily imply migration. 
 
 A village churchyard we have generally found to be the best 
 guide to the nomenclature of the neighbourhood, and we suspect 
 that what Mr. Elliot has discovered in respect of Northampton- 
 shire would be discoverable also everywhere else. This is rather a 
 long preface to a small but interesting circumstance which Mr. 
 Elliot may claim in support of his theory. One of the feotfees of 
 the Sponne charity, to whom we were indebted for the inspection 
 of the documents eoimeeted with it, is Mr. Webb, who lives in the 
 siinie house and carries on the same business of an ironmonger 
 which his ancestors have owned for four generations. Occupations 
 of the same farm often continue from generation to generation. 
 The pleasant old song does not exaggerate a common fact — 
 
 " And the farm I now hold on your Honour's estate 
 Is the same which my grandfather tili'd." 
 
 Ikit such descents are not common in trade. Trade is more liable 
 to vicissitudes and changes than agriculture ; and the son of tl:e 
 prosperous tradesman is much more often disposed to abandon the
 
 128 KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT. 
 
 father's calling than tlio son of the farmer. The property itself, 
 also, is much more liable to the influences of change. 
 
 The stone staircases which led to the rood loft, still exist in 
 Towcester Church. In the accounts to which we have alluded 
 there are payments on the 10th of April, 1562 — " Payd Kobert 
 Russel for taking down rode-loft, 7s. 8d." " Payd for car of the 
 tymber of rode loft to Heath, 12d." 
 
 We close our gossip with an anecdote concerning the figures 
 of Venus and Apollo in the niches over the gateway of the Pomfret 
 Arms, of which we have already spoken, and which, by the bye, 
 are cast in lead, accounting fully for the bend of the figure of 
 Venus. When Mr. Tunnard's predecessor entered upon the house 
 the statues naturally enough attracted the notice of the landlady, 
 Mrs. Popple. She accordingly addressed herself to the hereditary 
 post-boy for information respecting them. " I can't tell you 
 anything about 'em, ma'am," was the reply ; " but they calls 'm 
 Junus and Venus." " And who was Junus and Venus ?" was 
 Mrs. Popple's further question. " I don't know who they was, 
 mum," said the post-boy, " but you can read all about "em in the 
 Bible r 
 
 The post-boy must have been a descendant of him who wrote 
 the description of the " Groves of Blarney " — 
 
 " There's statutes gracing this noble place in 
 
 All heathen goddesses so fair — 
 Bold Neptune, Plutarch, and Nicodemus 
 
 All standing naked in the open air." 
 
 There are excellent accounts by Mr. Pretty, F.S.A., formerly 
 of Northampton, of Roman remains discovered at Whittlebury, 
 if testimony were wanting, to the fact that Towcester was once a 
 Roman station, in the 6th and 7th volumes of the Journal of the 
 British Archaeological Association. 
 
 Not least among the advantages of Towcester is the vicinity 
 of Lord Pomfret's beautiful park, with its noble trees and interesting 
 mansion.
 
 (From Beranger.J 
 
 CONQUEKOR : 
 
 OLLOWING the chase too engerly, this wood 
 Has 'wildered me — Good Father, point its outlet. 
 Old Man : 
 Yea must dismount. The paths are narrow here 
 And dangerous. Assist my feeble steps. 
 
 CONQUKUOR : 
 
 Am I unknown to you ? 
 Old Man : 
 
 I never saw you. 
 Conqueror : 
 My features may be strange. My history 
 You surely know. 
 
 Old Man : 
 
 It is a quiet spot, Sir, 
 Where my but stands. 
 
 Conqueror : 
 
 For more than twenty years 
 My glory has been bruited through the world ; 
 Mine was the prowess bowed so many kingdoms ; 
 Mine was the name which hath in war and peace 
 Shaken the universe. 
 
 Old Man : 
 
 I do not know you. 
 Arul yet mine arms are wearied with the toil 
 Of delving Mother Earth.
 
 130 tue old man and tee conqueror. 
 
 Conqueror : 
 
 You know me not ! 
 Why more than twelve proud months have passed away 
 Since, conquering the land that gave you birth, 
 I changed the course of your long kingly line 
 And overthrew the throne — 
 
 Old Man : 
 
 Pray pardon me. 
 I did not know that I had changed my master. 
 
 Conqueror : 
 Why, how now leveller ! What is your lot, then ? 
 
 Old Man : 
 Bom in this wood, I never left its shade ; 
 In peace year after year hath been heaped on me ; 
 My partner and two sons cheer my life's close ; 
 Our wealth — six goats, and arms disposed for toil. 
 It has sufficed us ever, God be blessed. 
 And will. But here's the road, Sir, Pare vou well.. 
 Pardon an old man's ignorance. 
 
 Conqueror: 
 
 Parewell ! 
 Happy old )nan !
 
 €mn's '^oxion. 
 
 _^ nHE tall spire of Green's Norton Chureli is a pretty object 
 ;3 from Towcester, and Towcester reciprocates the pleasure, 
 the square tower of its chiu'ch being visible from Green's 
 Norton. From Towcester to Green's Norton there is a 
 pleasant walk of less than two miles, across flush 
 meadows at this Spring season " painted with delight " 
 by " daisies pied " and the golden gorgeousness of buttercups ; 
 by the side of a brook chattering over pebbles ; by the low 
 embankment of an embryo railway, under tall hedges white 
 with May-blossom and skirting fields vividly green with the 
 young wheat ; and so out at length into the roadway oppo- 
 ■site the bowery residence of the late Mr, John Elliott. A 
 short walk along the road and we come into Green's Norton, — a 
 long, straggling, wide, irregular village, with a brook crossing it, 
 and roads branching out right and left. The church-spire rises 
 iibove it, backed by a belt of trees in picturesque relief. Prom the 
 Blakesley road, at the end opposite to that by which we entered, 
 .there is a considerable ascent, from which almost a bii'd's-eye view 
 ■of the "village is obtained. You turn eastward out of the High 
 Street, if we may call it so, to reach the church, which is on au 
 (elevated table-laud. 
 
 We live in an age of chureh-restoration. Will future times 
 anathematize our restorers as we anathematize the restorers of halt- 
 *i-century ago ? What a giievous spectacle .does Green's Xoitoi
 
 132 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT • 
 
 Cliurch present without and within. At tlie time of our last visit 
 the church was being not "restored," but cleaned and repaired. 
 It is the best thing that can now be done. There is no restoration 
 possible of what was miirdered in the great churchwarden " beauti- 
 fying" of the edifice in 1826. Before that time, indeed, somewhere 
 in an earlier Georgian period, something a great deal rather — had 
 been done to the tower, and possibly to other parts of the building 
 also. We cannot altogether apportion the mischief of the two eras. 
 
 The church belongs originally to the Early English period, 
 though there is the striking evidence, in instances of long 
 and short work at the two western angles of the nave, of an 
 Anglo-Saxon stnicture. We look in vain, however, for other traces 
 of the same period, and marvel that these should still remain. In 
 the south wall of the chancel, which is spacious, are two good 
 Early English windows, with double lancets, a deep splay 
 and a most graceful slender shaft dividing them. There were 
 corresponding windows in the north wall, but they have been long 
 since blocked up. The present east window is wholly devoid of 
 architectural character. It is simply a large cluster of leaded 
 square panes. The aisles are lighted by good windows of the 
 Decorated period, the heads filled with flowing tracery. In the 
 interior the devastation of the periods of which we have spoken is 
 painfully manifest. The nave is divided from each aisle by two 
 lofty pointed arches, borne by octangular pillars ; eastward other 
 arches formerly led into chapels. Both nave and chancel are ceiled. 
 We were told by the workmen that the timbers of the original open 
 roof are perfectly sound — so hard, said one, that you cannot drive 
 a nail into them. At the west end is an Early English doorway, 
 with very deep and picturesque mouldings. The font is of about 
 the same date, and curiously ornamented with lozenge compartments 
 enclosing a flower, the bands forming the divisions being studded 
 with beads. It is figured in Simpson's fonts. At the west end of 
 the north aisle is an enormous chest, iron-clasped and iron-bound, 
 with excessive security. Along this end of the church runs a
 
 ''• green's NORTON. * 133 
 
 o;allery of oak, tlie front ornamented witli those arcades wliich are 
 common on chest fronts of the time of James I. 
 
 Once the glory of the place was its noble array of monuments 
 to the Greenes, who were lords of the manor from 1354 to 1512, 
 and from whom its distinctive name was derived. Several at least 
 of these interesting records existed so lately as Bridges' time. 
 At what precise period they were destroyed is not known, but 
 something of the kind was done so late as the year 1826, when the 
 church was re-pewed and otherwise "beautified." All that now 
 remains is the following : — In the wall of the north aisle is a 
 depressed arch, with a shield in each spandril. In the recess 
 beneath lies a recumbent alabaster figure of a female habited in a 
 vest, which fits closely at the bodice and flows in straight folds 
 down to her feet ; over this is a mantle open in front, fastened 
 across the breast with a cordon and clasps. Kound her neck is a 
 collar of SS. On her he&d she wears the mitred head-dress 
 resembling a starched kerchief, folded so as to present a broad 
 band over the forehead, a high peaked fold towards the crown of 
 the head, and loose folds falling on to the neck behind. The hair 
 is gathered into a kind of ornamental net work, which has been 
 gilt. The head is supported by angels amply draperied. Beneath 
 the same arch is a fragment of a recumbent male figure, broken at 
 the waist, and propped up ludicrously on the broken trunk at the 
 head of the female. He is in plate armour, with a mail gorget and 
 collar of SS, pouldrons with the edges curiously turned up, and 
 coudieres. His hair is short, and combed straight down all round ; 
 the head rests on his helmet and crest, a buck's head. A glance is 
 sufficient to tell that the arch has no connexion with either of these 
 effigies. In point of fact, the latter were removed hither in 1826. 
 Originally the arch covered the tomb of Sir Thomas Greene, who 
 died in 1457, and Philippa Ferrars his wife. The effigies are 
 those of his ancestor, Sir Thomas Greene, who died in 1391, and 
 his wife Mablethorp. At the back and one end of the arch are 
 slabs of alabaster sculptured with long narrow trefoil-headed
 
 134 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 CDinpartments, alternately charged with shields, from wliich the 
 blazonry has been wholly obliterated. Baker gives these tombs 
 before their demolition, copied from Halstead's Genealogies. We 
 have no means of referring to that rare work, and cannot therefore 
 pronounce upon the skill with which the copying has been done, 
 i)ut if Halstead's work is not a great deal more artistic than the 
 etching of Baker, it gives but a very imperfect idea of the grace 
 and beauty — we may even say of the form and detail — of the 
 original effigies. Some day Mr. Albert Hartshorne will probably 
 give us a more accurate representation of what yet remains of 
 them. Mutilated as they are, they are alone Avorth a visit to 
 Green's Norton. 
 
 In September. 1826, the late Mr. Gilbert Flesher, of Towcester, 
 drew attention, in the Gentleman' s Magazine, to the destruction of 
 the monuments. In the October number of the same magazine 
 the then curate of Green's Norton, the Kev. E. B. Exton, 
 vindicated what had been done : — 
 
 "The appropriation," he says, "of a large portion of the sacred edifice to 
 fi-ee seats for the poor, rendered it necessary to oceuijy some part of what was 
 before vacant space. In the transept stood an ancient tomb of the Greenes 
 who gave their name to tlie place. This was a massive slab, resting on four 
 walls of sand-stone, once curiously carved and painted, but defaced anterior to 
 the memory of any person in existence, and now (lately) in a state of insecure 
 dilapidation. The slab was removed with all possible care, laid in the floor 
 immediately over the vault of the persons it commemorates (its inlaid brass 
 efhgies and legend being in perfect preservation), and now forming a very 
 handsome finish to the spacious centi'e aisle, and quite secure by its locality 
 from the wear of footsteps. . . Now for the ' monumental effigies.' There 
 were formerly two recumbent figures of soft white marble or alabaster lying by 
 the side of the aforesaid tomb upon walls in a most dangerous state of decay, 
 insomuch that the churchwardens long since thought it their duty to remove 
 them. These figures afterwards lay in an obscure corner of the church, from 
 which, probably, they would have had no resurrection, but for the proper spirit 
 actuating the persons now in office, and under whose superintending authority 
 a fine country church has been beautified, and made perfect for its sacred uses. 
 The effigies, then. Lave not been replaced, it is true, on their originnl site, but
 
 ,^ green's NORTON. 135 
 
 a-cinoved to a very short distance, under a vacant arch in the north wall ; and 
 an inscription has been actually prepared to explain the occasion of their 
 removal, to include a copy of the long-lost inscription, which Bridges, in his 
 History of Northamptonshire, has alone preserved, as once attached to some 
 part of this monument. I annex a copy, which will show how ancient a 
 memorial this is ; and I am happy to add that the researches of a friend have 
 been rewarded by the discovery of the dates of these person's deaths, who 
 were the grandfather and grandmother of the Sir Thomas Greene who lay under 
 the adjoining tomb. He died Dec. 14, 1417, she April 13, 1433 : — 
 
 " Hie jacet Thomas Greene, Miles, filius et haeres Thomse Greene, Militis, 
 filii et haeredis llenrici Greene, Militis (quondam unius Justiciarorum D'ni 
 Regis Edwardi Tertii), et Maria uxor ejus, filia D'ni Talbot, quorum animabus 
 propitietur Deus, Amen." / 
 
 From which we gather that the devastation began at an earlier 
 period than 1826. Yet in the text to Simpson's Font, which was 
 published in 1825, the effigies are alluded to as if then in situ. 
 De raortuis nil nisi bonum. We dare say the churchwardens acted 
 according to theii- lights in removing the " dangerous walls " and 
 figures into obscure corners instead of putting them in repair at a 
 cost probably not exceeding that of a year's sparrows' heads. And 
 equally, no doubt, the churchwardens of 1826 were actuated by "a 
 proper spirit," when they made the odd jumble of different relics 
 now existing under the north wall. All we can do is to lament 
 that the lights of those days were not a little brighter. We need 
 not chuckle overmuch. With the best possible intentions we do 
 much in our own time in the way of restoration which will make 
 posterity stand aghast. 
 
 Against the north wall of the chancel is another interesting 
 monument of a later date. Beneath a canopy, the curtains of 
 which are withdrawn by two angels, is a double desk, at which 
 a man in armour is kneeling on one side, and, on the other, 
 two female figures, one behind the other. The inscription is as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Heere lyes the bodyes of William Hicklinge, Esq., and Frances his oncly 
 wife (daughter of John Goodwin, of 'Winuhinton, in ye county of Buckingham, 
 Esq.), Sonne and hcyre of Jhon Hicklinge, of Green's Norton, in ye county of
 
 13(5 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 Northampton, Esq., wch William cleparted this life August the 5th, 1(^^ 
 Frances dyed xVugust ye 25, 1603, leaviuge issue behind them one onely 
 daughter and heyre Christian, married to Thomas Elmes, son of Edmund 
 Elmes, of Lileford, in ye county of Northampt., Esq,, by whome she had issue 
 seaven sonnes and five daughters." 
 
 In the state in wliicli we found tlie cliurch, in the process of 
 cleaning, we were not able to search for the brasses. 
 
 The churchyard is belted round by noble limes. The manor 
 house of the Greenes stood near it, but no vestige remains. 
 Nothing in the village calls for remark, except " The Butchers' 
 Arms," which faces you as you descend the hill from the church. 
 A pleasanter rural inn one would not desire ; with a bow window 
 commanding the street up and down, and one of those capacious 
 old-fashioned hre-places which have seats in them, and give one the 
 intensest idea of snugness and shelter and cosy warmth, and all 
 that weary pedestrianism can desire in chilly weather. Grave is 
 the mistake of landlords who, with a view to a little more room, or 
 for the sake of being more spruce and modern, abolish these ample 
 shelteriugs of our ancestors, which are none the less comfortable 
 because the substitution of the coal fire in the grate for the wood 
 on the hearth leaves more space for the sitters in the corners. 
 Then, too, "The Butcher's Arms" is as spotlessly clean as a Dutch 
 hotel, and, as the saying is, you might eat off the slabs of its 
 flooring. A glass of excellent ale and perfect courteousness and 
 attention are the climax to the other merits of this agreeable 
 halting-place. We mentioned on our way hither the house of the 
 late Mr. John Elliot. One cannot pass it without remembering the 
 love of art which he possessed, and his natural gift for the practice 
 of it. Many of our readers will remember the specimens of his 
 remarkable ability in this direction — his close observance of nature 
 and his skill in re-producing what he observed on canvas — exhibited 
 in the Northampton Museum.
 
 "Era il detto luogo sopra una piccola montagnetta, da ogni parte lontano 
 alquanto alle nostre sfrade, di varj alhuscelli e pianfe tutte di verde fronde 
 ripieno, piacevoli a riguardare : in sul colmo della quale era un palagio . . 
 . . con pratelli dattorno, e con giardini maravigliosi." — Boccaccio. 
 
 ERT alleys with trim trees arching o'erhead, 
 And ending in a vista of blue hills, 
 Statue, or vase, or nook where grottoed rills, 
 Trickling from stone to stone, clear coolness shed ; 
 Elsewhere a pleasaunce, with quaint patterns spread 
 Of rarest flowers ; an orangery that fills 
 The air with that sweet odour which distils 
 From Lisbon or the Azores, seaward led. 
 There needs but laughter from the shrubberies coming, 
 Ladies, and rustling silks, a gorgeous show. 
 And mantled cavaliers chitarras strumming 
 Or whispering love in willing ears ; — and lo ! 
 A picture by Lancret or by Watteau, 
 Or tale recorded by Boccaccio. 
 
 * The seat of the Rev. C. F. Annesley when this Soanet was written ; now 
 occupied by Colonel Henry Cartvrright.
 
 UclUngbor^ugi). 
 
 ^ ,HE walk from tlie Wellingborough station — tlie old station 
 ^ that is — on the Northampton and Peterborough line — 
 
 is pleasant enough fully to compensate for its distance. 
 As a rule, country roads manifest small respect for the 
 pedestrian ; but here there is capital walking all the 
 way from the Bridge foot to Swan's Pool. On the 
 Bridge, it is true, you may get crushed by an omnibus or a 
 waggon, if you don't look out, there being no footway, and the road 
 being far from too wide. Once over the Bridge, however, and you 
 are as safe as you can desire. A tall hedge protects you on one 
 side from the dust and dangers of the road, and on the other you 
 look over green Northamptonshire meadows. At the Dog and 
 Duck you emerge into the road again, but for a few yards only, and 
 then you enter a noble walk, straight as an arrow, bordered on 
 either side with limes, and terminating in a vista of trees and the 
 lofty spire of Wellingborough Church. Wellingborough has good 
 reason to be proud of this beautiful entrance to the town. 
 
 Approaching the descent of the hill by the pretty Cemetery, 
 the aspect of the town is novel and picturesque. Tall chimneys 
 are not usually agreeable adjuncts to a landscape, but the tall 
 chimney and the adjoining tower-like building at Mr. DuUey's 
 Brewery, are really ornamental, and show how the most utilitarian 
 and unpromising structures may be wrought into elegance and 
 picturesqueness by a cultivated and artistic taste. Eising upwards 
 from the dip along which the Sevan's Pool stream meanders, the 
 houses rising one above another, intermingled with trees, give an 
 ao-reeable character to the scene.
 
 '" WELLINGBOROUGH. 139 
 
 Crossing the Bridge beneatli wliicli tlie rivulet runs, tlie eye is 
 cauglit by a building on the right hand, which has historical, as 
 well as picturesque, interest. It is an unostentatious structure, of 
 one story only, with a gable projecting forwards about the centre 
 towards the street. A sign attached to this gable tells us that it is 
 the Inn of " The Golden Lion." There is quite enough of promise 
 in the aspect of the exterior to make us desire to get a sight of the 
 interior. Turning to the right on entering the passage, we find 
 ourselves in a low room with a ceiling of black oak, and ponderous 
 beams with elaborate mouldings. Across the fire-place is an 
 immense piece of oak timber, which is said some years ago to have 
 been raised considerably from its original situation. Cole's 
 "History of Wellingborough" speaks of "a carved wood chimney- 
 piece of curious workmanship," and it is possible that the carved 
 work may have been removed to admit of the raising of the beam. 
 There is no carving now, nor, so far as we know, any tradition of 
 it. An old man of 80, who remembered the raising of the beam, 
 did not remember any carving; but your "oldest inhabitant" is 
 not always the best authority in such cases. It is possible for the 
 eye to rest upon objects every day through many years Avithout 
 any impression being made upon the memory, unless the attention 
 is specially awakened to them. In a room upstairs is a Tudor 
 fire-place with an ornament in the spandrils. The quantity of 
 timber in the house is enormous. At a short distance in the rear 
 are the stables and granaries of the same date, and equally 
 ponderous with timber, the gables being finished with finials. Cole 
 states that the house was the residence of Thomas Koane, who died 
 in 1676. The house, however, is at least a century earlier. 
 Thomas Roane may have been the owner, but he could not have 
 been the original builder ; possibly an ancestor may. It is very 
 interesting, as showing the modest residence of a country gentleman 
 of the 17th century. Roane was a man of substance ; he married 
 a daughter of Wm. LaAV, 1^'sq , of Glcndon, and his daughter, vvlif) 
 died in 1717, left £1UU to tlie Gills' Charity School.
 
 140 
 
 KAMBLES EOrNDABOUT; 
 
 [Thomas Roane's House ; now the Golden Lion.] 
 
 Nearly opposite tlie Golden Lion is another house, noteworthy, 
 not for its antiquity, but as a successful adaptation of the Norman 
 style to modern domestic architectui-e. It was built, we believe, 
 originally for a factory, and afterwards converted into a dwelling 
 house by the architect, Mr. Edwin Sharman. We trace the same 
 tasteful hand in several of the new buildings in various parts of the 
 town. 
 
 Higher up on the same side of the street is another eminently 
 picturesque old house, respecting which we are sorry to say we are 
 in the position of Canuing's knife-grinder, having no story to tell. 
 We believe it is " in Chancery," and, if so, we have a tolerable 
 certainty that it will not be disturbed in a hurry. It is now 
 occupied as a broker's. 
 
 ^i||(!l|il!iWllf(!lll!l!!lillllli^'^ 
 
 [Old House in Sheep Street.]
 
 ,^ IVELLINGBOROUGH 141 
 
 The Hind Hotel, the next object of interest, stands well 
 facing the Market Place, to which it is a decided ornament. It is 
 stated to have been building when the Parliamentarians marched 
 through Wellingborough, previous to the battle of Naseby, which 
 would make the date of its erection about 1645. Its design is 
 ascribed to Wra. Battey, a local architect, parish clerk and 
 registrar, about the middle of the seventeenth century, and shows 
 him to have been a man of considerable ability and taste in his 
 profession. There was an older inn than this in the Market 
 Place, existing w'ithin the last five-and-thirty years — the White 
 Swan. It stood on the south side of the Market Place. When 
 Charles the First and his Queen came to Wellingborough for the 
 benefit of the Red Well waters, which were then in repute, they 
 were lodged at the White Swan. It was the White S^van too, in all 
 probability, that drew forth the bitter criticism of Horace Walpole, 
 who was at Wellingborough for a night in 1763. "We lay," he 
 says, " at Wellingborough — pray never lie there — the beastliest inn 
 upon earth is there ! We were carried into a vast bed-chamber, 
 which I suppose is the chib-room, for it stunk of tobacco like a 
 justice of the peace ! I desired some boiling water for tea ; they 
 brought me a sugar-dish of hot water in a pewter plate." We 
 must not always, perhaps, take Horace Walpole's words literally, 
 else we must infer that tea was not in general use in Welling- 
 borough a century ago. But the inference is not a very improbable 
 one ; a century ago Wellingborough was at least two or three days' 
 journey from the Metropolis. The only public conveyance was the 
 stage waggon, of the pace of which some idea may be formed 
 from the fact that the first coach which commenced lomning in 
 1776 was on the road from five in the morning to eight in the 
 evening. In those days of comparatively infrequent intercoiirse 
 with London, it would take a long time for a custom to send its 
 roots so far. At the houses of the nobility and gentry Ave may 
 well believe that tea was an accustomed luxury ; but it is not 
 unlikely that it may not have been ordinarily called for at inns, and
 
 142 EAMBLES BOUNDABOUT : 
 
 that the mode of making it may have been but imperfectly known 
 to tlie servants. It is rather in favour of this supposition, that 
 Horace Walpole asks not for tea as a guest at an inn would now, 
 but for " some boiling water for tea," as if he carried his own tea 
 with him, and only required the means of making it. 
 
 Burystead Place, just beyond the Hind, is a suggestive name, 
 and the antiquary would look about it for matters of interest. A 
 stone in the Chiirch records that " George Hodges de Burysteed, 
 hie jacet. Sepultus 14 Feb. Ano Dui 1623." The site of Bury- 
 steed is indicated by some large sixteenth century outbuildings : 
 wlien the house was demolished does not seem to be known. 
 Near the same spot stood a Grange belonging to the Abbots of 
 Croyland. A fine old building of the sixteenth century stands on 
 the site. It has an oaken staii'case in excellent preservation, and 
 some o-ood old panelling in the handsome and spacious hall. Its 
 front faces the south, and its pleasant gardens are bounded by a 
 moat siipplied with clear water. Beneath (for it stands on the 
 brow of a hill) slope picturesque grounds down to the Swan's 
 Pool stream, and beyond are trees and pleasant country. All 
 about it speaks of antiquity and country life as if it were far 
 remote from towns, while in point of fact a stone migkt be thrown 
 from it into the main streets of Wellingborough. Two doors from 
 the corner of Burystead Place in Silver Street is another good old 
 house with the gable towards the street : a house of a couple of 
 •centuries old at least, the inhabitants of which must have seen the 
 o-reat fire of 1738 raging around it. Following up the street, 
 northward, to High Street and Broad Green, there is a picturesque 
 jumble of houses of all kinds and degrees, with a spacious roadw^ay 
 between, that gives them a healthy aiul agreeable character. Broad 
 Green, with the trees of Hatton House, and its own ample 
 spaciousness, is a very pleasant place. St. John Sfcreat is said 
 by Cole to have had an old house in it, on the front of which was 
 3, representation of the Crucifixion carved in stone, which was 
 iraditionally called St. John, fi'om having, he thinks, been affixed
 
 ,^ WELLINGBOROUGH. 143 
 
 to a wall in an edifice dedicated to St. John. Honse and cai-ving 
 are now gone, and the street has nothing in it requiring special 
 notice. Gold Street running eastward, at quite the northern 
 extremity of the town, is nevertheless an ancient way, and shows 
 that Wellingborough three or four hundred years ago was at least 
 co-extensive with its present boundaries. There is a house of 
 some pretensions, with respect of length of frontage, in it, witli 
 excellent Tudor doorways at each extremity, the original oak door 
 in one instance remaining almost perfect. 
 
 About this neighbourhood are what are called "Long Lanes" — 
 a curious characteristic of Wellingborough. Large tracts of garden 
 ground are intersected by tolerably broad lanes, fenced in with lofty 
 old stone walls, covering an intermediate space between Gokl 
 Street on the north-east and Skitterdine on the south-west. Gold 
 Street is evidently so ancient a way, that, considering also the 
 situation of the Church, one would be led to suppose that at an 
 early period — say the fifteenth century, this site was part of the 
 town, and covered with houses. The lanes may indicate old 
 ■streets. It is not easy to account for them upon any other 
 hypothesis. Mere subm"ban gardens would have been fenced in with 
 hedges ; there are, however, very substantial old stone walls, for the 
 .most paxt well built. 
 
 Skitterdine ! What an odd name for a street is Skitterdine ! 
 What does it mean ? Has anybody anything to say about it ? It 
 is a place of some antiquity ; that is, there are old buildiugs in it, 
 though of no particular mark, but the way and the name are clearly 
 •older than any buildings in it. In the absence of all information, 
 we beg to offer the following guess. Is it derivable from Sceat, 
 Anglo Saxon for a corner or portion, and Dincg, new broken hind ; a 
 sort of equivalent to our Northampton "Newland?" Wellingborough, 
 it must be remembered, is a Saxon name originally. In Domesday 
 Book it was called Wedlingeberil, and at other difterent times 
 Wendlesberie, Wendyngburgh, Wendlcberie. It is supposed to 
 liave become modified when the Eed Well became famous^ and
 
 ] 44 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 people were perhaps anxious to make the name of the town itself 
 declaratory of its waters. It does not seem to have been fixed in 
 1()10, for Norden writes of " Wellingbonow, called of some 
 Wodliiigborow, of others Wenlingborowe," and says, " It may bo 
 thought that the name of that should be Wellingborowe, so given 
 in regard of the springs that rise in many places in and neare the 
 town." If the change was made with such an object as that 
 mentioned above, and was not a mere corruption of the original 
 name (which, perhaps, is, after all, the most probable) it must have 
 taken place at an early date, for Norden was evidently not aware of 
 it. Drayton whose Polyolbion, was written about the beginning of 
 the i7th century, calls it " Wellingborough, so called for its many 
 wells or fountains," and makes no allusion to the earlier name. 
 
 Skitterdine debouches into Gloucester Place, one of those open 
 spaces which contribute so largely to the health of towns. Gloucester 
 Place obtained its aristocratic appellation in the following way. 
 Formerly it was called Hog Hill, the Hog Market being held there ; 
 a public-house close by, called the Sow and Pigs, still attests the 
 character of the neighbourhood. Between forty and fifty years ago 
 the Duke of Gloucester was going to Cambridge on some public 
 occasion ; and the landlord of the Hind put his best horses to the 
 carriage, which was honoured by the august person of His Royal 
 Highness. The post-boy was duly apprised of the importance of 
 his task, and directed to drive as it became a Duke to be driven. 
 " Thou bearest Csesar and his fortunes," was repeated by the worthy 
 host, mutatis mutandis, and otf the vehicle dashed with its noble 
 freight, to the admiration and pride of the by-standers. Up the 
 ascent of the Market Place, along Silver Street, the postillions' 
 whips crashing, the four horses heels making a tattoo, as if 
 
 " Played with iron sticks, 
 Oo a kettle-drum of granite." 
 
 Hog Hill is reached, and now for the postillions' triumph, to sweep
 
 ,^ WELLINGBOROUGH. 145 
 
 grandly round into East end, at showing-ofF-corner. 
 
 " — It's awful work ! 
 It's faster than Turpin's ride to York 
 Oa Bess that notable clipper." 
 
 Eound they go, never pulling a rein, and over goes tlie carriage 
 with a sparkle and crash, depositing the Duke at the foot of the 
 pump in the middle of the hill. How from all the fair dames who 
 thronged the windows round the Hog Hill, there proceeded one 
 simultaneous shriek of horror ; and how all the loyalty rushed 
 headlong on to the hill to assist the downfallen royalty, used to be 
 graphically told by Mrs. Wells, the landlady of the Globe Inn, iu 
 18G.3, who herself remembered the event, and whose father was one 
 of the first and foremost to render help. Fortunately, though the 
 chaise was smashed, the Duke was not, and in reply to the enquiry 
 of the worthy citizen and cooper aforesaid, whether His Royal 
 Highness was hurt, he very courteously thanked the enquirer, and 
 assured him he was not. Another chaise was soon procured, and 
 the Duke proceeded on his route. But Dukes don't get upset 
 every day, and, to commemorate the event and the place, it was 
 unanimously resolved for these reasons, and because Hog Hill was 
 a name clearly unfitted to be handed down in connexion with 
 the spilling of a Duke, that henceforward Hog Hill should be called 
 by the style and title of Gloucester Place. And Gloucester Place 
 it accordingly has been ever since, and is now, because the Duke of 
 Gloucester was spilt there. There are few places with a high 
 sounding name that can give so good a reason for their christening. 
 
 Wellingborough church is an extremely handsome sti-ucture, 
 principally in the Perpendicular style, though there are portions of 
 Decorated and Norman work. Of the latter character is the inner 
 doonvay of the south porch, which has a bold chevron moulding 
 and shafts similarly ornamented. There are parvises over both the 
 porches, and in that over the south doorway are said to be the 
 mouldering remains of old oak chests cut out of the solid wood. 
 The entrances to both these chambers are blocked up. The east
 
 146 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 window is a noble piece of work, and has a fine effect from the 
 interior. There is some good timber roofing in the interior, 
 especially to a chantry chapel in the south aisle, which is rich witli 
 carving, and shields and paintings of angelic figures, and the 
 emblems of the Crucifixion. From this cliapel a view of the high 
 altar would be obtained through a squint. On each side of the 
 choir are three very rich and curious old oak stalls with misereres, 
 having grotesque carvings on the under part of the turn-up seats. 
 These seats have a bracket which gives them the efltect of a double 
 seat, the bracket aifording a rest to the weary ecclesiastic during 
 the long standing part of the service, without giving him the 
 appearance of being seated. The carvings usually found on the 
 under part of this bracket liave been the subject of much 
 speculation. Like the grotesque heads of Gurgoyles, and the 
 frequently strange subjects of early corbels, they seem often to be 
 singularly at variance with the sacred character of the edifice to 
 which they belong. Sometimes they seem to be satires on the 
 clergy, sometimes to illustrate the popular literature of their day. 
 Sometimes they arc iu accordance with what in painting is known 
 by the title of genre ; and sometimes they are intolerably gross. 
 The inference to be drawn, we think, from all that is known about 
 them is, that they certainly were not intended to symbolize any- 
 thing ; that they were not intended for instruction ; tliat it was the 
 custom, in the lavish adornment of the day, to ornament the seats, 
 and that the sculptor was cither left to his own imagination, or 
 was under the direction of the individual ecclesiastic who 
 superintended the works. Sometimes there would probably be a 
 meaning and a direct satire, having reference to events of the day ; 
 the mediajval Leech might make them his " Punch" by which to 
 shoot the folly or to satirize the wrong-doing of the time ; but 
 there is nothing to lead to the belief that they were treated in any 
 respect systematically, or had any more direct meaning than the 
 subjects on our paper-hangings. Mr. T. Wright concludes an 
 excellent paper in the 4th volume of the Journal of the
 
 /- "WELLINGBOROUGH. 14? 
 
 Areliseological Assooiatioii on tlie subject, with the remark that 
 they " form a practical illustration of the kind and degree of 
 scientific and literary information it was thought necessary to place 
 ibefore society at large." This is somewhat, it will be seen, at 
 variance with our own view, and we differ with hesitation from so 
 learned an authority. But some of the illustrations to his paper 
 seem in themselves to support our idea of the absence of any 
 .absolute intention. One from Worcester represents a domestic 
 winter scene, where a man who has evidently returned home wet- 
 footed has taken off his boots, and, while he holds his feet to the 
 fire, stirs the great pot which contains his meal. Another from 
 Great Malvern represents a woman in bed attended by a physician, 
 who brings her in two vessels what we may presume to be au 
 ■effervescing dranght, which he is about to mix. In Wellingborough 
 •church two of the brackets are of this domestic character. One 
 represents the carver himself cutting the roses which form the side 
 ornaments. He sits with his table before him and his tools 
 spread out upon it. The otlier is full of genuine humour. 
 The ale-wife is about to fill the goblet for her customer, who 
 stands by in all the felicity of anticipation ; with one hand be 
 scratches his head, and with the other rubs his stomach, while his 
 eyes glance sideways watching the process of the " totting out," 
 with dclio-hted satisfaction. The cai'ving of this curious bracket 
 is remarkably spirited and artistic. 
 
 A story is told of one of the Incumbents of this Church, the 
 Rev. Aaron Locock, who was instituted in 1718, which is too good 
 3aot to be repeated in this gossiping notice. In the dusk of tl e 
 evening he was crossing the long bridge, when he Avas attacked by 
 a foot-pad. Mr. Locock was tall and athletic ; the chancel door 
 was enlarged to enable him to pass through without stooping. 
 Instead, therefore, of yielding up his purse, he collared the 
 foot-pad, and prepared to throw him over the parapet. lu 
 doing so he chanced to recognize the man's features, and 
 (exclaiming — " If it wasn't more for your soul than your bodj,,
 
 IJ-S RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 Jack, I would drop you," — set him at liberty. Mr. Locock was 
 chosen vicar of All Saints, Northampton, in 1731. 
 
 In the vestry is a stone to the memory of William Battey, 
 the architect of the Hind Hotel. It has the following couplet : — 
 
 All worldly fabricks are but vanity. 
 To Heavenly buildings for eternity. 
 Sepult : Noverab. ye 30th lo7-l Mat 80. 
 
 A curious relic is kept in the vestry called the Wellingborough 
 lock of hair, which was dug up many years ago in the church yard. 
 It was about a yard in length when it was discovered, but is not 
 above two feet now. It is twisted or plaited, and was evidently 
 the " back hair," of a lady of very remote times. The Anglo- 
 Saxon and Xornian ladies wore their hair twisted into long tails, 
 as the fashion was with the Miss Kenwigs of our times some fifteen 
 years ago. 
 
 Wellingborough church is much encompassed with buildings, 
 and it was time that burials had ceased there. The access to it is 
 chiefly by lanes — Church Lane and Pebble Lane. At the west 
 corner of the latter, next the church yard, is a miniature house, 
 with the smallest imaginable upper window. The adult head must 
 be small indeed that can project itself through the little opening of 
 the casement. It is of a triangular form, and projects from the 
 building. The house is occupied by the sexton. Pebble Lane was 
 burnt by the great fire, but this little window escaped the general 
 ruin. 
 
 On the north side of the churchyard stands the Grammar 
 
 School, which was built in 1620. It is a respectable, commodious 
 
 looking structure, with gabled roofs and stone-mullioned windows, 
 
 after the fashion ol the day, and adjoining it, westward, is a house 
 
 of the same style now occupied by Mr. Hodson, which looks from 
 
 its situation as if it had at some period been connected either with 
 
 the church or the school. It has a communication with the 
 chmxhyard.
 
 '- WELLINGBOROUGH. 149 
 
 Welliiigborougli has had its fires. Cole gives an extract, 
 probably from the parish register, respecting money " Paid for beer, 
 which poor men had at Wyman's fire, 13s.," in 1663, and in the 
 same year occurs another entry, " Paid for beer at Robert Cox's 
 fire, 10s." Twelve shillings must have represented a very decent 
 quantity of beer two centuries ago. In 1731 another fire, known 
 as " the upper end fire," broke out in the High Street, when about 
 six houses were destroyed. But the fire, known as " the great 
 fire," broke out on Friday the 28th of July, 1738, about two 
 o'clock in the afternoon. 
 
 The Northampton Mercury of July 31, 1738, gives the following 
 account of it : — 
 
 " Oa Friday last, about two o'clock iu the afternoou, a sudden and most 
 dreadful fire broke out at the house of Thomas Curtis, a dyer, next the Peacock 
 Itin, in Wellingborough, in this county, which, in the space of six hours, burnt 
 down and consumed near 220 dwelling houses, besides outhouses, barns, stables, 
 &c., amounting in the whole to above 800, mostly in the east and south parts 
 of the town. The fire was so fierce and violent, the wind being very high, and 
 but little water to be had, that in less than an hour it brol<e out in near twenty 
 places, and the inhabitants were in such distress and confusion that but few of 
 them had time to save any goods, and many of them not more than the clothes 
 on their backs. As it happened chiefly among the trading men and farmers, 
 the loss is very great and lieavy upon them ; but at present, through the hurry 
 and confusion every poor sufferer is in, it cannot yet be computed. 
 
 In the same paper is the following advertisement : — 
 
 " This is to give notice to all gentlemen, farmers, bakers, millers, &c., tiiat 
 at the White Hart Inn, in Wellingborough, which hath escaped the dreadful 
 tire, there is good entertainment, with stabling for hoi'ses, and store-room for 
 corn, &c." 
 
 Cole gives some additional particulars, without, unfortunately, 
 citing his authorities. A lady, named Hannah Sparke, he says, 
 saved a house in the Butchery, by ordering her servants, when water 
 failed, to resort to the beer in the cellar, which they did with such 
 effect as to extingiush the blazing wood-work. Dr, Doddridge 
 referred to this circumstance in a sermon which he preached on
 
 150 RAMBLES EOt'KDABOUT: 
 
 tlie occasion. ]\Irs. Sparke was at this time 60 years of age. Slie 
 lived to attain to nearly the age of 107. When she reached her 
 hundredth year she was chaired ronnd the square in which she 
 resided, a testimony to the excellence of her nerves as well as to the 
 enthusiasm and regard of her neiorhbours. 
 
 "Wellingborough has a Corn Exchange, commodious also for 
 all tho^e miscellaneous purposes to Avhich Corn Exchanges are 
 wsually put. It is a capital place for a concert, for example, or a 
 meeting. Its site is a very good one if it were cleared of the 
 houses next its south front — not those only occupied by Mr. 
 Tendered, but the row forming the south side of the Market Place, 
 and intervening between it and Market Street. Whenever these are 
 cleared away Welling-borough will have one of the finest market- 
 })laces in the country. The market must have been a considerable 
 one formerly, for Norden says the town was distinguished by the 
 name of " Wellingborowe Forum of the Market theare." 
 
 A pleasant walk of about a mile along the Kettering Eoad 
 brings you to a mill on the left-hand side of the way. Crossing 
 the stile into the mill-field, and following the winding stream 
 M'hich turns the wheel to its source, you reach the once famous 
 lied Well. It is in an arable field, lying between the Kettering and 
 the Hardwick roads — a spot thoroughly secluded and very 
 picturesque. The spring is strong, and the water bubbles up 
 .abundantly, leaving a red deposit on the stones and earth over 
 which it flows. Scoop a handful and drink, and you recognise at 
 once the flavour of the " Flat Irons," as immortal Sam Weller 
 says. There is not a vestige of a building about it. Yet there 
 must have been something of the sort in the days of its prosperity, 
 for in 16,40, as appears by an account in the old town books, £10 
 was expended in repairs — a considerable sum in those days. In 
 1G28, Charles I. and his Queen, Henrietta, were at Welling- 
 Ijorough, for the beneflt of its waters, under the prescription of the 
 Queen's physicians. We dare say the Ked Well offered as good a 
 chalybeate as other waters that have kept their celebrity, and
 
 ,_ WELLINGBOROUGH. 151 
 
 clustered fashionable mansions around their sources. But even so 
 early as Fuller's time it had fallen out of repute. " Now I 
 believe," says that quaint writer, " is it low water in its 
 reputation." There is a fashion in physic as well as in dress, and 
 ( 'harles I. was hardly the Sovereign to give permanence to any- 
 thinrr. The times that followed were busied with sterner matter 
 than the fostering of watering places, and the merry monarch found 
 wells more convenient at Tunbridge and Epsom. 
 
 Wellingborough promises to be more than ever prosperous. 
 It had a reputation as a substantial town always, and although, 
 daring the transition days, when railways first came, and coaches 
 and carriers were ousted from their old tracks, it suffered as all 
 other places similarly situated suffered, a good substantial town it 
 has continued. Within the last few years, it has added iron 
 smelting to its other industries. With great perseverance, and in 
 spite of many discouragements, Mr. Butlin has succeeded in 
 establishing works, which may, in course of time, have an impor- 
 tant effect upon the character of the district. Iron abounds 
 in its soil. The great question, wc presume, is whether it is more 
 profitable to carry the coals to the iron, or the iron to the coals. 
 ^Ir. Butlin seems, at all events, to have demonstrated that an 
 industry of this peculiar description may be carried on in North- 
 amptonshire, and who shall say that, at some far off time, from 
 tliis small beginning, Wellingborough may not become another 
 Wolverhampton ? We have lived to sec changes far more improbable.
 
 OMEWHERE past tlie dismal midnight, 
 Wakening from a dreary dream, 
 Storms I heard against the casement 
 Carrying out the solemn theme. 
 
 As old German legends tell us, 
 
 Demon troops sweep through the air, — ■ 
 Skeletons of men and horses 
 
 Shrieking maidens Hell-wards bear. 
 
 So it seemed I heard the clamour. 
 
 And the shrieking and the laughter. 
 
 And the frozen bony rattle 
 
 Of the death group following after : 
 
 Then a pause of breathless horror. 
 Then a low and sobbius: strain. — 
 
 Then the soft and welcome South-wind, 
 With a grateful gush of rain. 
 
 Then I knew the fight was over. 
 And the Winter gone and past, 
 
 And I turned and on my pillow 
 Slept a blissful sleep at last. 
 
 Skies are cloudy, ways are miry, 
 
 Pleasant yet shall be our way, 
 Por the thawing blood within us 
 
 Speaks of Spring-time holiday.
 
 imt iaiiMngtoit. 
 
 \LTIMA Tliule. Well, not quite that, perhaps, but, as 
 railroads and the traffic of the world goes on, a little out 
 of the rush and roar. So much the better for those at 
 least who 
 
 " Know the rural feeling, anJ the charm 
 That stillness has for a world-fretted ear." 
 Pleasant it is to quit the train at these road-side stations that 
 seem to lead to nowhere, though here there is double promise — on 
 one side Castle Ashby, on the other Earl's Barton. Of Castle 
 Ashby, however, or Earl's Barton, we see nothing, and are content. 
 Before us is a mill bestriding the river, and the way thither looks 
 *' woody, mossy, and watery." That, therefore, is, for the nonce, 
 our way. 
 
 There are two roads — one a good one, fit for travel, and 
 leading, it needs no great shrewdness to infer, to Earl's Barton. 
 Some day our steps shall be thitherward, in due homage to the 
 world-famed Saxon church-tower. Now we choose the riffht hand 
 
 O 
 
 and rougher road, which looks as if it had a visit ever and anon 
 from the river. Our mood leads us to the picturesque, and the 
 aspect of the path is promising. A very few steps satisfy us that 
 the promise will be fulfilled. The road continues a reasonable 
 cartway for some distance, but its gravelly character testifies that it 
 is sometimes rather a ford than a road. Trees aud tall hedgerows 
 shut it in on the right — to the left is the river. Before long the 
 road becomes a footpath, which diverges, and gives you a choice of
 
 1 ''> <• RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 wiiuHiifr along by the river-bank, or of crossing meadows which 
 occasionally have little pools even at this season, and which a storm 
 may render impassable. Either way the walk is thoroughly rural 
 and pleasant. With plenty of time at your command, you may go 
 by the river-side all the Avay — a sedgy track, with here and there a 
 member of the Nenc Angling Club, who will hardly fill his creel 
 from water which to-day is glassy as the Rio Verde. If time is an 
 object, you may draw a straight line, and save some distance by 
 going from bend to bend of the stream. It is open country now. 
 Southward the far-stretching meadows are bounded by rising 
 ground, on which you may desciy the towers of the churches of 
 Cogenhoe and Grendon, and the tall ever-present spire of 
 "Wollaston. Over the river there is rising ground nearer at 
 hand. At length one of the prettiest pictures of its kind 
 breaks upon us. In the foreground is a wooden foot-bridge 
 spanning the river diagonally. Behind it is a mill, just what a 
 water-mill should be. Tennyson's Miller's Daughter inhabited 
 such an one. Tliere is the mill proper, w'ith its arch reflected 
 reversely in the stream ; and beside it the dwelling-house, covered 
 with creepers and greenery; and on either side luxuriant trees 
 make the w^ater dark wnth their rich autumnal hues. The traveller 
 who goes that way in a hurry catches a flash of happy beauty from 
 his hurried glance at it. lie who has leisure lingers — own to 
 include the entire scene, footbridge and all, in his study; now to 
 loan over the bridge-rail, and dwell on all the charms of outline 
 and colour in detail, and drink in the picturesqueness and the 
 poetry, and imprint the whole on his memory as " a thing of 
 beauty and a joy for ever." 
 
 Great Doddington is not far from the mill. We cross the 
 wooden foot-bridge, and come into an enclosure, where there arc 
 •ducks and fowls, and we have an uneasy feeling, as if we were on 
 trespass. A short bit of road, and then into fields again, and then 
 we come to the place of our destination. 
 
 Great Doddington stands on the northern ridge of the Nenc
 
 GREAT DODUINGTON. 155 
 
 / ■* 
 
 Vallpy, wliicli it overlooks. It consists mainly of one lonsj-stiTol, 
 and a smaller one on a lower terrace, witli honse here anrl tliere. 
 North-eastward the way is to Wilby; westward to Earl's Barton. 
 The church is on another terrace, the liig'hest of the three. With 
 the exception of some tiles before a row of new cottages, the paving 
 is of that stone which starts into every conceivable variety of shape 
 ■j—niore picturesque to the sketcher than practicable to the 
 pedestrian. Altogether it is a pleasant village, with here and there 
 a good old gable, and an inn (the Stag's Head) which is clothed 
 with greenery, and has a covered gallery, from which there is the 
 J^rettiest and most comprehensive view of the valley— from Wol!aston 
 spire to the woods of noble Castle Ashby. It is at the eastern 
 extremity of the village, and its general appearance is very foreign, 
 only instead of a broad lake before it, there is the narrow and 
 sinuous Nene. Near it, on higher ground, is the manor house, a 
 tine old sixteenth century building, with gables and raullioned 
 windows, very comfortable and happy-looking. It is now occupied 
 by the vicar, the Kev. Maze W. Gregory, in whose hands it will 
 lose none of its genial aspect. This, we presume, is the house 
 which in Bridge's time was occupied by Major Ekins, of Weston, 
 who is described as the impropriator of the great tithes, and as 
 having " the largest estate and the best house in the town." There 
 is another house in the village of much the same character, Avhich 
 must have once been of nearly similar importance. On a higher 
 terrace than the manor house is the church, with a background of 
 trees. It has a west-tower, nave, chancel, and north and soutli 
 aisles. The tower is Early English, with a west door of that period, 
 and a small circular-headed window over it in good preservation. 
 In the inside the splay is very deep. In the upper stage is a 
 window with two circular-headed lights under a circular head, the 
 tympanum of which is not pierced. The tower is buttressed with 
 bold buttresses of three stages. On the south wall are two 
 inscribed stones, which seem to indicate that the tower was once 
 crowned with a spire, unless, indeed, so late as 1737 the Angle-
 
 156 KAMBLES IlOUNliABOUT : 
 
 Saxon word steeple was used in its original sense for a tower. One 
 of jthese bears the following words : — " This steeple was pointed, 
 1688 : Jesse Corby, Joseph Pettit, Churchwarns." The other 
 runs as follows : — " This steeple was taken down and leaded at top 
 by Moses Mores and William Pettitt, Churchwardens, July 21, 
 1737." The first may have referred to the tower itself or to a spire 
 crowning the tower ; but the second very much resembles that well- 
 known Hibernicism about General Wade : — 
 
 " If you had seen these roads before they were made, 
 You'd lift up your hands and bless General Wade." 
 Supposing- both inscriptions to refer to the tower, it is curious 
 enough that the re-budding should iu 1737 have repeated so 
 exactly the earlier work. Bridges, however, writing some fifty 
 years later, makes no mention of a spire. He merely mentions " a 
 ridged tower tiled at the top." A Decorated window at the 
 west end of the south aisle is stopped up, but the remains of it 
 testify to its beauty. It is ogee-headed, and the cuspings were 
 cinquefoil. The inner door-way of the porch has an original 
 Perpendicular oaken door, with much of the tracery and the old 
 iron-work remaining. Some interesting features mark the interior. 
 Four of the stalls in the chancel remain, and the under-part of one 
 of the misereres represents a man carving a rose. The hand is 
 evidently that of the artist who carved the cuiiously interesting 
 misereres in Wellingborough Church. There is a handsome 
 cinquefoil-headed piscina, and two trefoil-headed sedilia of the same 
 date. Another piscina occurs in the south aisle. The font is a 
 plain bowl on a plain circular base, and may be of almost any date, 
 excepting yesterday. In the north aisle is a slab with an inscription 
 in Lombardic characters, the greater part of which is covered Avith 
 pews and otherwise defaced, and the remaining fragment would 
 take more time and opportunity to decipher than we had to bestow 
 on it. In the nave is the slab, with the bed of a brass cross fleury 
 and the following inscription : — " Ici gist Willelm de Pattishull qe 
 morust le xvij jour de Septembre, I'an de grace 1359." The
 
 ,^ GREAT DODDINGTON. 157 
 
 founder of the convent at Delapre — Simon, Earl of North- 
 ampton, gave the Church of Doddington, with its appendages in 
 frank almoin, to his new foundation. 
 
 The lordship of Doddington has had distinguished possessors. 
 In the list of the lands held by the Countess Judith in Domesday 
 Book we find the following entry : — " Ipsa Comitissa tenet iiii. 
 hidas in Dodintone. Terra est viii. carucarum. In dominis ii. 
 carucae et ii. servi et xii. villani et v. bordarii cum iiii. sochmannis 
 habent vi. carucas. Ibi xii. acrse prati. Valuit et valet iiii. libias. 
 Bondi tenuit" — " The same Countess holds four hides in Dodintone. 
 There is land for eight ploughs. In demesne there are two ploughs 
 and two serfs ; and twelve villeins and five bordars, with five 
 sochmen, have six ploughs. There are twelve acres of meadow. It 
 was and is worth four pounds. Bondi held it." This Countess 
 Judith was a daugliter of Odo, Earl of Albemarle, by Adeliza, 
 half-sister of William the Conqueror, and the husband of Earl 
 Waltheof, the son of the Saxon EarlSiward. Waltheof, from what 
 cause is not known, fell under the displeasure of William, and, 
 after being long in prison, was beheaded at Winchester. Judith, 
 whether with reason or not, has been suspected of treacheiy towards 
 her husband. After his death the Conqueror desired her to bestow 
 her hand on Simon de St. Liz, the Norman who is believed to have 
 built the Castle at Northampton. St. Liz, however, was deformed, 
 and the Countess indignantly rejected him. Tlie angry monarch 
 made her pay the penalty of her refusal by seizing upon lier 
 possessions, and bestowing them upon her eldest daughter, Matilda, 
 who was willing to accept the bridegroom her mother had rejected. 
 Whether Doddington was included in the Conqueror's seizure we do 
 not know, but in the reign of Henry II., David, King of Scotland, 
 was possessed of the four hides which Judith had held. The 
 lordship has been for some time the property of the Earls of 
 Northampton, and is held by the present Marquis. 
 
 The return is not less pleasant than the going. We traveise 
 the same ground, but the points of view are dili'crcut, and tlie
 
 158 
 
 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT. 
 
 evening sun throws another liglit upon the picture. Ee-crossing 
 the foot-bridge we turn to loolc back, upon tlie Mill. The colouring; 
 is now intensified : the red roof of the Mill is lired by the settinfj 
 orb, and it throws a gorgeous refleetion on the water, where it 
 glows amidst the dark purple of the shadows. Turning westward 
 again the sky is glorious all the way. The gold and purple dies 
 into grey only as we turn towards the station. 
 
 *^'^^
 
 % f egeit^ 0f Pant Mt Cfeat. 
 
 LIE Lake was bathed in the rosy light 
 With which dear Italy's skies are bright, 
 And a beam of which she sometiuies send* 
 As a special grace to her nearest friends. 
 
 Azi, Grenier, and Nivolet 
 Sharply were shadowed in Lake Bourget, 
 And the triple summit of Mont du Chat 
 Blended the beauty with something of awe. 
 
 The elder of our boatman three 
 (For our craft was heavy as craft could be) 
 Paused awhile on his lumbering oar, 
 And pointed north to the farthest shore — 
 
 Pointed to where in the distance dim 
 The outline rose of a Castle grim. 
 Blackened with fire and crumbling with time, 
 Calling up visions of terror and crime. 
 
 In days remote 'twas the lordly hold 
 Of a baron, — wealthy, and wise, and bold, 
 Yet less renowned for his prowess and gold 
 Than for two bright daughters of heavenly mould. 
 
 It was said he loved them with a love 
 All that he had on earth above, 
 Yet wisely he loved them not, if well. 
 As my story will in its sequence tell ;
 
 ICO A LEGEND OF MONT DU CHAT. 
 
 For lie kept them close in that Castle grim, 
 Never indulging a girlish whim, 
 Leading them never to ball or Court, 
 Where gallants and ladies love to resort. 
 
 Knights and squires haunted in vain 
 The precincts of his vast domain, 
 Hoping a fortune and bride to Avin ; 
 He let them ride, but he let none in. 
 
 All day long they would wheel about. 
 In and out, in and out. 
 On chargers taught to cui-vet and prance, 
 After the manege new from France. 
 
 He let them wheel and he let them prance 
 After the manege new from France, 
 But he never asked them in to dine 
 Or an after dinner glass of wine. 
 
 Once only one well-favoured knight 
 
 Got an " invite " to sup one night, 
 
 Eut the ladies both were gone to bed, 
 
 As the Baron obseiTcd, with an aching head. 
 
 That very night when the mid-hour came • 
 The Castle was wrapt in a mighty flame, — 
 In a mighty flame like a dreadful pall 
 Covering, clasping, dooming all. 
 
 " Water ! water ! Fly to the Lake \ 
 Fly for our dear young ladies' sake ! " 
 Vassal and tenant oft" went they ; 
 ']'hev might as well have remained awav.
 
 A LEGEND OF MONT DU CHAT. IGl 
 
 The greater the deluge tlie greater the blaze, 
 As it's office were not to subdue but to raise, 
 Oil or spirits of turpentine 
 Could have made no blaze so fearfully fine. 
 
 The Baron rides here, the Baron rides there, 
 With a madman's shout and a madman's stare, 
 Over the wide Lake's burning waters 
 Echoes his shriek for his perishing daughters. 
 
 Perisliing ? No ! Behold, behold ! 
 Dash from the Castle two champions bold 
 On sable coursers, in sable mad. 
 Gaunt of form and of visage pale. . 
 
 Before him each in his saddle bears 
 One of the Baron's lovely heirs, 
 Closely, closely they clasp them both. 
 And the ladies scarce seem very loth. 
 
 There isn't a struggle, there isn't a shriek. 
 There's a conscious blush upon either cheek, 
 And I think (though I can't be sure in the haste) 
 That a white arm circled each gaunt knight's waist. 
 
 Yet the coursers black tliose kniohts bestrode 
 Like red-hot furnaces burnt and glowed. 
 And a fiery blast from their nostrils rolls, 
 And their eyes gleam like two living coals. 
 
 A fiendish veil and a fearful scream, 
 A splash and a hiss and a column of steam. 
 And a thunder-clap and a lightning gleam. 
 And a wailing sound like the song of a dream, — 
 And the shivering grey of the morning's beam. 
 
 K
 
 Ifi2 A LEGEND OF MONT DU CHAT. 
 
 The rosy hue from the Lake is fled, 
 And it frowns in pm-ple and lurid red. 
 And a keen wind over the surface sweeps, 
 From crag to crag the lightning leaps, 
 And the echo, thunder-roused, upleaps, 
 And shouts to her sister nymph who sleeps. 
 
 Our boatman bow'd and cross'd his breast, 
 And again to his oar himself addrest. 
 " It is ill to tell these tales of awe 
 In the solemn shadow of Mont I)u Chat." 
 
 ib^^^^i^-
 
 Mcstoit mdl 
 
 UlET, secluded Weston Tavell has had its days of stateli- 
 ness and glorification. It is mentioned in Domesday Book 
 as Westone, and in tlie beginning of the eighteenth century 
 there were no fewer tliau three mansions in the village. 
 The whereabouts of two of them may yet be traced — one 
 north and the other south of the Churcli. But its greatest 
 «elebrity is derived from its sometime minister, the Eev. James 
 Hervey, one of the most popular religious writers and preachers of 
 his day. The story of the Herveys goes back to the sixteenth 
 century. The first of whom we have any record is Stephen 
 Hervey, of Cotton, in Hardingstone, who was auditor of the Duchy 
 of Lancaster. He died in 1606, and was buried at Hardingstone, 
 One of his sons. Sir Francis Hervey, was a Justice of Common 
 Pleas. Others are described in the family pedigree as of Weston 
 Favell. In 1G60-6I, Francis Hervey, who was born in 1611, 
 represented Northampton in Parliament. He presented to the 
 livings of Weston Favell and Collingtree, his son, the Eev. William 
 Hervey, who was succeeded in 1736-7 by the Rev, William Hervey, 
 who was the father of the celebrated author of the Meditations. 
 James Hervey was born at Hardingstone, February 14, 1714, in a 
 house which is still standing. At seven years of age he was sent 
 to the Northampton Free Grammar School, of w hich the Vicar of 
 St. Sepulchre was then the master. Afterwards he was entered at 
 Lincoln College, Oxford, where one of his tutors was the famous 
 John Wesley. Hervey was one of that knot of fifteen students.
 
 1G4 EAMBLES ROL'NDABOUT : 
 
 George Whitfield being also one, who met together for religious 
 exercises and studies, and inaugurated the great religious movement 
 known as Methodism, Hervey did not join the connexion, but he 
 retained his friendship for its leaders, and its intluence may be 
 traced in his life and writings. He was ordained in 1736, and 
 relinquished on the occasion an exhibition of £30 per annum from 
 liis college on the ground that others might stand in greater need of 
 it. At first he assisted his father ; for twelve months was curate of 
 Dummer in Hampshire ; and afterwards undertook the curacy of 
 Bideford, Devon, with a stipend of £40 a year. Here is the best 
 evidence that he made himself valued and beloved, for of their own 
 accord his congregation added £20 per annum to his pittance, and 
 Avhen in 1742 his rector died they further offered to pay the whole 
 of his salary by voluntary contributions in order to retain hi in. 
 His rector, however, seems not to have assented to this proposal, 
 and Hervey returned to Weston Favell, and officiated as curate to 
 his father till the death of the latter in 1752. After that event he 
 succeeded to the family livings of Weston Favell and Collingtree, 
 and held them till his death, which occurred on Christmas Day, 
 1758. He was buried in the Chancel of Weston Favell Church, 
 and the spot is marked by the following inscription : — 
 
 — " Here lie the Remains 
 
 of the Rev. James Hervey, A.M. 
 
 (late Rector of this Parish). 
 
 That very pious Man, 
 
 And much-admired author, 
 
 Who died Dec. 23, 1758, 
 
 lu the 4.5th year of his age. 
 
 Reader, expect no more to make him known. 
 
 Vain the fond elegy and figur'd stone : 
 
 A name more lasting shall his writings give ; 
 
 There vievv display'd his heavenly soul, and live." 
 
 An active parish priest, Hervey was also a diligent author. 
 The works by which he is chiefly known are Theron and Aspasio, 
 ;ind the " Meditations " — the latter especially. They were published
 
 ''- IVESTON FAVELL. 165 
 
 in 1746, and became immensely populai'. They M'ere siijrg-ested by 
 a visit to the village of Kilhampton, in Cornwall, lioth the 
 " Meditations among the Tombs " and the " Keiiections on a 
 riower Garden " are, however, rhapsodies rather than either 
 Meditations or Eeflections. Beading them, one is impressed with 
 the idea that they should have been in verse. Hervey was not a 
 deep thinker, but he was a great and various reader ; paraphrased 
 what he read in his own enjoying way, and communicated much of 
 his enjoyment to his hearers and readers. That he was a man of 
 large heart is evident from the comprehensive circle of his friends, 
 among whom were Whitfield, Eomaine, Doddridge, and Kyland. 
 Mr. Eyland published a volume on his chaiacter, " as a Man of 
 Genius and a Preacher — as a Philosopher and Christian united — as 
 a Regenerate man — as a man endowed with the dignity and 
 prerogatives of a Christian — as a man of Science and Virtue — as a 
 Divine and a very eminent Master in the Doctrines and Duties of the 
 Christian Eeligion." It is written in a strain of enthusiastic, not 
 to say rhapsodic, eulogy. One passage will afford an idea of the 
 whole : — 
 
 " By the most keen and incessant attention to nature and Scripture he 
 rose to snch a pitch of sacred knowledge and devotion as few good men ever 
 attained. It would be invidious to compare him with the eloquent Dr. Bates ; 
 the savoury and judicious Dr. Owen; the accurate and copious Charmack ; tlie 
 great John Smith, of (^ambiidge ; and the much greater man, Edward Polhill, 
 Esq. ; the masculine John Howe ; the correct and nervous Hurrion ; the 
 sagacious President Edwards ; the florid Dr. Watts ; the sprightly and beuevoleut 
 Dr. Doddridge ; and the fervent zealous Whitfield ; with the great and judicious 
 Dr. Waterland. But this I may safely say, that Harvey had those peculiar 
 excellencies which distinguish him from all those great men ; and even that 
 prince of all divines. Dr. Whitsius, did not excel him in great conceptions, rich 
 imagination, devotional criticism, deep humility, and seraphic fire. Sufi'er me 
 to make this remark, that through the defective and faulty method of education, 
 almost all the above divines neglected the beauties of creation and the charms of 
 natural philosophy. Through this defect their compositions want that striking 
 brilliance with which Ilervey's writings abound." 
 
 Hervey made Weston Favell a shrine to which pilgrims, from
 
 IQQ BAMBLES EOUXDABOUTr 
 
 America and Scotland chiefly, resort even now. A more modest 
 one it is not easy to conceive ; nor, at the same time, one more 
 picturesque. Approaching it from the fiekls or from the road, its 
 tower is seen set in the trees which suiTound it with most pleasing 
 relief. It is of the very late Norman or Early English period. 
 Bold buttresses support it on the north and south sides. Twa 
 lights, in the upper stage on each face are hooded by a moulding, 
 wliich runs round the building. In the west front there is a single 
 light directly under the corbel table, and a two-light window under 
 yue head in the lower stage, partly blocked up. There are traces 
 also of a doorway. The tower formerly was crowned by a spire, 
 but on Thursday, the 19th day of May, 1723, about noon, it was 
 " split asunder by the violence of a clap of thunder," according to 
 the testimony of the Northampton Mercury of that date. The 
 body of the church has been greatly altered. There are no aisles, 
 and the windows are late Gothic under square labels. A south 
 porch is a still later addition, with a wooden beam for a lintel. 
 The chancel has some good Early English windows of three lights, 
 with very deep splays inside, and there is a good doorway, blocked 
 up, of the same period. The pulpit is of James the First's time. 
 Close by it, fixed in the wall, is the iron framework of the hour- 
 glass, by which the length of a sermon, in days when sermons were 
 of a length which would not be tolerated in our degenerate days, 
 used to be regulated. Sometimes the congregation would call 
 upon the preacher to turn the glass for an additional hour. In the 
 south wall of the chancel is a small trefoil-headed piscina, and 
 opposite, in tlie north wall, a tall aumbry, which has lost its door. 
 Over the Comraiuiion Table is a curious piece of worsted and 
 bugle-work, representing the Lord's Supper, inscribed with the 
 \vords— " Gloria Deo. Weston Eavell, Dec, 1698." It was the 
 work of Lady Holman, the wife of Sir John Holman, Bart., whoso 
 mansion stood in a field south of the pareonage. North of the 
 parsonage, and forming the eastern boundary to the roadway into 
 the main Wellingborough Road, is a wall which enclosed the
 
 "- WESTON FAVELL. 1G7 
 
 grounds about the mansion of tlie Ekins family, who had been 
 settled in Weston Favell from 1617 till 1814. One of its members 
 — Alexander Ekins — was deputy to James Earl of Northampton, 
 Master of the Leash to Charles the Second. Baker quotes the 
 Earl's warrant, a document curiously illustrative of the royal 
 privileges of the day. It is addressed to " all Justices of Peace, 
 Maiors, SherrifFs, Bayliffs, Constables, and other His Majesty's 
 Officers and Ministers to whom it shall or may appertain," and 
 proceeds as follows : — 
 
 " Now know yee that I, the said James Earl of Northampton, master of 
 His said Ma'ties said Leash, have licensed and authorized Alexander Ekins, of 
 Westou Favell, in the county of Northampton, to bee my deputy and assignee 
 during the will and pleasure of mee the sd Earle of Northampton, to take to 
 His Ma'ties use and in His Ma'ties name, within all places within tenue miles 
 any way of Weston Favell aforesaid, as well within franchises and libertyes as 
 without, such and so many greyhounds, both doggs and bitches, in whose 
 custody soever they bee, as the said Alexander Ekins shall thinke meete and 
 convenient for his Ma'ties disport and recreation, and in such and as ample 
 manner and form as I the said Earle of Northampton may or might have done. 
 And likewise I, the said Earle of Northampton doe hereby authorize and depute 
 the said AlcKander Ekins, by himself aud his serveants, to seize and take away 
 all such greyhounds, beagles, or whippets as may any way be offensive to his 
 Ma'ties game and disport as fully and amply as I myself, by virtue of the said 
 authority may doe ; I the said Earle of Northampton ratifying and allowing 
 whatsoever the said Alexander Ekins shall lawfully, by virtue of the said I'res 
 patent and this my deputation or assignment, doe and execute." 
 
 Dated 26 Mar., 18 Car. 2 (1665), and signed "Northampton." 
 
 The Herveys had a mansion in the road leading to Little 
 Billing, of which traces also remain. There are some muUioncd 
 windows of the fifteenth century in some cottages facing the church 
 tower. The present rectory was built on the site of the old 
 parsonage, by the Kev. James Hervey, who, however, never 
 occupied it, having died during its erection in a house still standing 
 east of the parsonage. 
 
 Weston obtained its affix of Eavell from the family of tliat 
 name, who possessed lands there in the thirteenth century. The
 
 ]08 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 male line became extinct by the deatli of Sir Wm. Favell, without 
 cliildren, in 1316. On the north side of the Wellingborough 
 Road, facing the entrance to the village, is the school-house, a 
 charity endowed by Hervey Ekins and his wife Elizabeth in 1704, 
 and " in pursuance of the pious and charitable inclination" of their 
 youngest daughter, Gertrude Ekins, who died at Oxford after an 
 illness of two days, in that year, aged 16, two small closes in 
 Weston were conveyed to trustees to be called Gertrude Ekins' 
 Charity, the rents to be applied to a premium of £7 for binding a boy 
 apprentice who shall have been educated three years in the school ; 
 16s. to the minister of the parish for preaching a sermon on the 
 3rd of November, the anniversary of her death, and the residue to 
 be distributed in bread amongst the poor of the parish on that day. 
 In 1707 the endowment was increased, the school-house having 
 l)een then newly-erected; and in 1717 a rent-charge of £1 was 
 given for the repair of the building. One of the directions of the 
 deed was that the children were to be taught the art of spinning. 
 
 Weston Eavell is pleasantly situated on the northern ridge of 
 the valley of the Nene, and commands extensive views over that 
 fertile district, while the interval between the village and the county 
 town includes some extremely pretty close scenery. The eastern 
 suburb of Northampton now stretches far into the fields, and town 
 and country, which a few years ago met face to face, must each 
 make a long arm to shake hands. But once clear of the houses the 
 whole way is thoroughly rural : park and dell and swelling ground, 
 and a brook, and trees of all sorts, stately and gnarled, and in the 
 season a glorious show of chestnut blossoms. As you approach 
 Weston, the Church shows its venerable tower among the trees ; the 
 School-house, with its front covered with trained trees, looks 
 cheerful and old, and the " Trumpet," one of those inns in which 
 " evening weariness" loves to rest, invites you to test its hospitality. 
 Tliere was a time when it was a bustling and far from unimportant 
 hostelry. Stage coaches pulled up there, and numerous carriers. 
 Times change, and the railway has diverted much of the traffic from
 
 "* WESTOX FAVELL. 169 
 
 the road : tlie " Trumpet" has been abandoned for the scream of 
 the railway whistle. But the pleasantness of the scene and of the 
 inn has lost nothing by the change. 
 
 The Church has lately undergone some repairs and slight 
 alterations. It was intended to add to it a north aisle, and 
 abolish the huge gallery at the west end. The can-ying out of 
 that intention for the present remains in abeyance, and the 
 chief alteration effected is the restoring the open roof. The 
 gain by the destruction of the gallery would be the ex- 
 posure of the tower arch and the Early English window in the 
 west wall of the tower ; but the gallery, huge and ugly as it is, 
 hides nothing architecturally remarkable, as galleries usually do. 
 The opening of the roof is of course an advantage in respect of 
 ventilation as well as of appearance. There was a time when our 
 ancestors seem to have considered that a Church ought to be made 
 to look as much as possible like a drawing-room. Of all the 
 disfigurements which that perverted taste occasioned, none were so 
 bad as the plaister ceiling, which brought the vitiated atmosphere 
 down to the congregation to be lireathed over and over again. 
 Weston Eavell has done wisely to remove what was sanitarily an 
 evil as well as an eye-sore. We should not, we confess, lament the 
 abandonment of the new north aisle. There is nothing in the 
 present north wall particularly worth preserving, and the design of 
 the proposed restoration, we are bound to say, so far as we have 
 seeu it, is in good taste, and in accordance with the best parts of 
 the building. But in these days of universal Church-renovation 
 we in a sort cling to anything which tells us of days in any degree 
 historic. By and bye we shall have nothing but nineteenth 
 century work — very good work, much of it, we cordially admit, 
 but necessarily without the sentiment which pervades the old, and 
 telling no story of past times. We would fain be spared something 
 by which to estimate our progress or our decadence.
 
 Ut liatoilUl 
 
 HERE ; — it may serve perliaps some future day, 
 Dull tlioug;li the peucil be, aud duller he 
 Who guides it, to recall to memory 
 The exquisite beauties of this rural way. 
 Tempting the hurried traveller to delay : — 
 
 The mill down in the dell ; the huge beech-tree 
 Flinging its great black arms protectingly 
 Over the useful stream, with one hot ray 
 From Autumn's cloudless sky touched, like a star ;. 
 The feathery greenery sheltering everywhere ; 
 The one bright strip of greensward seen afar 
 Between the mossy trunks. — May never care 
 Come to the Mill, its clattering glee to mar 
 Making all foul within, Avhile all around is fair.
 
 fitmpart. 
 
 ^^^nHE Lamport Station is one of tliose pleasant rural jilaces 
 wfti^ which are apt to make v;s hard-hearted as regards the 
 (\^Pj) case of the station-master. In stations on main lines ; 
 ^/^p^. at dreadful junctions where lines cross and re-cross each 
 other with the complexity of an elaborate perspective 
 drawing; where trains run in incessantly, thundering 
 over turn-tables, and shrieking whistles make " music of the 
 spears ;" where the platform is for ever covered with luggage of all 
 kinds, and with bewildered passengers " claiming" it, tumbling 
 over it, and running frantically to their carriages at the summons 
 of a bell huge enough and noisy enough to " fright the isle from 
 its propriety ;" — in such places his must be a hard heart indeed 
 who does not pity the station-master. How he escapes a lunatic 
 asylum as his ultimate destiny, if he escapes it, is difficult to 
 understand. Eveiy day and all day long he has upon him the 
 responsibility of the lives of thousands. The distraction of a 
 moment may bring about a chaos. The master, however, of such 
 stations as the Lamport Station has another destiny. Possibly his 
 life may have its trials too ; but to the passenger it speaks of an 
 enviably tranquil existence. Enough of intercourse with the world 
 to prevent the moss from growing over him, or the rust from 
 eating into his spirit : intercourse with all classes and all natures ; 
 and no more. His simple business to 
 
 " Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest," 
 and then he may turn to his garden, to the enjoyment of the quiet
 
 17:2 EAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 a time, at least, secure of solitude and uninterruptedness. Of course 
 this is from the passenger's point of view, whose spectacles, for 
 the nonce, show everything couleur de rose. We do not deny that 
 the actual station-master's survey may paint a different picture. 
 Having, however, left our own skeleton at home in oui- own cup- 
 board, we are not going to search after the station-master's, if he 
 has one, as we hope he has not. 
 
 Leaving the station, our way lies along as pretty a country 
 road as our shire can boast. On either side the ground is un- 
 dulatory ; swelling now into something like hills, dipping now 
 into dells with a dark pool in the hollow, over which pictiu-esque 
 and informal trees fling their branches. A little way farther on 
 (our attention is chiefly directed to the left of the road) we catch a 
 pretty glimpse of Lamport Church-tower between trees ; then a 
 glimpse of the Eectory, a stately eighteenth-century house ; farther 
 on still, the Hall, in the Italian style. These in the background : 
 the sloping ground between is chequered with sunshine, and sheep 
 lying in the shade. 
 
 Continuing the road, we come to a blacksmith's shed ; then 
 to the Lamport Inn, in old times an important halting-place for 
 stage-coaches between Northampton and Harborough, and droves 
 of cattle going southward. It is a large and pretentious building, 
 with ample out-premises, standing alone and having pleasant 
 looks-out. There is little now to indicate its special character of 
 an inn, and as you open a side-door under a porch, into its passage 
 covered with oil-cloth, you might imagine that you Avere an 
 intruder, if you had not previously noticed the sign over the door — 
 the Isham crest — a demi-swan, wings displayed, proper. Opposite 
 to the inn is a road at right angles with the main road. It has on 
 the right hand a lofty wall, over which tall trees throw their 
 branches, and on the left a few scattered cottages — comfortable, 
 well-to-do looking places. Following it we come to the church. 
 We saw its tower looking picturesque enough among the neigh- 
 bouring trees, and, coming nearer, it does not disappoint us. It
 
 '- LAMPORT. 173 
 
 is of tiie Early English period, battlemented, with boldly projecting 
 buttresses at the angles. In the upper part of the west face is a 
 window with two lights under a circular hood moulding, the head 
 not boing pierced. Beneath is a circular-headed doorway, walled 
 up, and directly over it a single light, of the ordinary small 
 dimensions. In the south face a similar window to that in the 
 upper part, has the head pierced with a quatrefoil. The tower has 
 a low pyramidal roof, and about its base cluster mallows with their 
 pretty striped flowers and geranium-like leaf in great profusion and 
 beauty. Tlie mallow was in classic tiines planted with the asphodel 
 about graves. These have assuredly nothing to do with the 
 custom, but their profuse presence here reminds us of it. The 
 church-yard stands on rising ground, and north and west the look- 
 out is very rural and beautiful ; over undulating ground, well 
 wooded. 
 
 North-east of the church stands the Rectory ; and south of it, 
 on the right hand of the road, is Lamport Hall. The principal 
 entrance is from the Northampton road, south of the entrance to 
 the village. 
 
 "The stately homes of England, 
 How beautiful they stand. 
 Amidst their tall ancestral trees. 
 O'er all the pleasant land." 
 
 A verse familiar enough, but too truthful ever to lose the bloom of 
 its beauty. A " stately home" assuredly is Lamport Hall. 
 Entering the park from the main road, a tine sweep of greensward, 
 belted by noble trees, leads up to the mansion, which presents an 
 imposing facade in the Italian style, built, about the close of the 
 seventeenth century, after designs by John Webb, the son-in-law of 
 Inigo Jones. A portion of the earlier hall remained, we believe, 
 till within the last fifty years. The Ishams became possessors of 
 the manor about the first year of Queen Elizabeth's reign, by 
 purchase from John Earl of Oxford. Eobert and John Ishan), the 
 purchasers, were two of the twenty children of Euscby Ishani,
 
 IT* RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 Esq., who held the manor of Pytchley. Eobert died in 15G4, 
 leaving no issue, aiid his brother John became possessed of the 
 entire property. There is a characteristic contemporary portrait of 
 this ancestor of the family in the house, and his story is told on the 
 monumental brass to his memory. 
 
 " John Isham, one of the twenty children of Eiiseby Isham, of Pichley, 
 and of Anne, his wife, daughter of Giles Pulton, of Desburgh, esquier ; married 
 Elizabeth, daughter of Nicholas Barker, citizen of London, and was once 
 governour of the English merchant adventurers in Flaunders, and thrice warden 
 of the mercers of Loudon, purchased the raanuor and parsotiage of this parish 
 of Lamport, and was twenty-two years justice of peace, and once sherriff of the 
 shyre of Nortiiton, and died the seventeenth day of March, anno Domini one 
 thousand five hundred ninety five, wj.ei seventy years six months, and the saide 
 Elizabeth died the — day of January, ano Dni 1594, leaving iii sonnes Thomas 
 Henry, and Richard. God make us thankful for them." 
 
 South of the house, behind a fence of shrubberies, and enclosed 
 by a broad mound, are the srardens. A blaze of colour greets the 
 eye from the borders and beds, which are devised and kept with the 
 most elaborate taste and care. It is not possible to detect a faulty 
 leaf or flower in the thousands of gorgeous plants that fill them and 
 define with the sharpest outline the fanciful patterns which they 
 describe. Something of the taste which was prevalent in the 
 gardening of a couple of centuries ago may be traced here, and has 
 probably been continued from that time. There is, for example, a 
 long straight walk, secluded with shrubs and flowers on either side, 
 and ending in a small temple or summer-house ; and clumps of box 
 and other evergreen trees, which are penetrable, and enclose a 
 spacious room, sufficient for a large assemblage of visitors, and 
 secure, by the denseness of the foliage, against sun or shower. 
 These vary a large grass plot, which is also ornamented with some 
 handsome cedars, planted, we believe, by the hand of the venerable 
 Dowager Lady Isham, some forty years ago. Near the extremity 
 of this long walk are three enormous cages, till very lately occupied 
 by a pair of eagles and a horned owl. The two eagles fell sudden 
 victims, there is reason to fear, to foul play. The owl remains, one
 
 '" LAMPORT. 175 
 
 of the grandest of his grand species. He is of enormous size. 
 During the day he sits perched in the darkest corner of his den, 
 with half shut eyes, looking at once wise and wicked. If by chance 
 he is aroused, it is fine to see him swell into double his size by the 
 expansion of his beautiful feathers, and open his monstrous eyes, 
 with a really terrible fierceness. At night they must look like a 
 couple of tail lamps to a railway train. 
 
 Next the south side of the mansion is a rock-garden, which 
 we take to be almost unique. It is the work, we believe, of Sir 
 ('harles Ishara himself, who has bestowed upon it endless care and 
 attention. The rock-work rises sonae twenty or five and twenty 
 feet, and is arranged with a perfectly natural aspect. Myriads of 
 lichens and ferns and other rock-loving plants cover the rockery. 
 Altogether, it is a rare and curious nook — a singular and beautiful 
 variety in a garden of singidar and various beauty. 
 
 But if last, certainly not least, in respect of the skill ami care 
 of the gardener in this very skilfully managed and well-caretl-for 
 garden, come the vineries. We do not know that we ever saw 
 grapes in the like profusion and perfection, or graperies in such 
 marvellous order and cleanliness. Grapes, as if bursting Avith 
 their wine, hang over head, not in scattered bunches here and there, 
 but in rafters of huge clusters. The sunlight comes unstained 
 through the beautiful amber leaves, not one of which is marred with 
 mould or insect. 
 
 No lover of books will pass by Lamport Hall without 
 remembering the discovery there, no long time ago, of a copy of an 
 edition of Shakespeare's " Venus and Adonis," of which the 
 bibliomaniac had never dreamed. Other rare works of about the 
 same period were there also. They look like new books, bought 
 as soon as published, not at second-hand, or in the spirit of a 
 collector, but of the book-lover. There was a Sir John Isham, who 
 died in 1651, and who was contemporary with Shakespeare. We 
 are not aware that anything is known to justify the supposition 
 that he was a man of special literary tastes ; but he was, no doubt.
 
 176 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT . 
 
 a mau of educatiou, and there have always been many quiet lovers 
 of literature none the less earnest in their love for not malcing 
 proclamation of it. His son was a Sir Justinian Isham, whom his 
 monument specially commends for his learning : — " Optimis 
 disciplinis atque artibus domi forisq : instructus et excellenti 
 ingenio, eruditione, eloquentia, prudentia, onmique virtute 
 cumulatus." He may have inherited his love of books from his 
 father. Mr. Edmunds, who made the discovery of the precious 
 volume, suggested that it was purchased by Thomas Isham, who 
 was in possession of Lamport Hall in 1599, when the " Venus and 
 Adonis " was published. The guess may be well founded, but 
 Thomas Isham died in 1G05, and among the precious books is a 
 copy of Nash's " Have with you to Saffron Walden ! " which was 
 published in 1607.
 
 Ut %m InMsikJi. 
 
 F Heidelberg we oft liad read, 
 And of its many glories ; 
 And often to ourselves we said 
 These are but idle stories. 
 But still there is that Tun that holds 
 Three hundred thousand bottles, 
 And what a sight that Tun must be 
 To thirsty travelling throttles. 
 
 And so we said, " We'll take the train 
 
 Before the one for Basel, 
 And go and have at Heidelberg 
 
 A look at Tun and Castle." 
 And so we went and took the train 
 
 Before the one for Basel, 
 And did our meriy best to get 
 
 A glimpse of Tun and Castle. 
 
 Along the Linden avenues 
 
 We went, admiring greatly 
 On either side the gardens bright. 
 
 The houses new and stately ; 
 Yet this, said we, Love would not choose 
 
 His honey-moon to spend in, 
 And Age would seek a calmer nook 
 
 His latter hours to end in.
 
 178 TUE TUN UNVISITED. 
 
 Still up the winding path we went. 
 
 And down the sun came pouring. 
 And ever and aye an upward glance 
 
 The ladies turned imploring ; 
 And we, who find there's room to get 
 
 Wiser as we grow older, 
 The knapsack we had borne in hand 
 
 Strapped fairly to our shoulder. 
 
 We clomb the mountain still, still looked 
 
 All vainly for the top on't, 
 We only saw the shaggy sides. 
 
 The trees, and viny crop on't. 
 At last said we, the train will be 
 
 Soon coming in for Basel, 
 And we shall surely lose our day 
 
 If we should gain the Castle. 
 
 And after all, although it makes 
 
 A Gasthof keeper's handle, 
 Can we believe the game can be 
 
 Worth all this waste of candle ?* 
 Be Heidelberg unseen, unknown 
 
 Its Tun and all that's by it. 
 We have a Meux's of our own. 
 
 Oh Avhy should we deny it ? 
 
 A Tun is but a Tun, though of 
 Three hundred thousand bottles ; 
 
 And what are they, if none of them 
 May trickle down our throttles ? 
 
 *Le jeu, vant-il la chandelle?
 
 ,^ THE TUN UNVISITED. 17'.) 
 
 Besides, a sight is but a sight, 
 
 And disappoints us sometimes, 
 And Castles made in modern times 
 
 To us seem made iu rum times. f 
 
 A noble river is the Ehine, 
 
 We have its course unravelled, 
 And all from Bonn to Bacharach 
 
 Its shores on foot have travelled. 
 Let's leave a sight in Germany, 
 
 That when we tell beholders 
 We have not seen it, they may shrug 
 
 With pitying gaze their shoulders. 
 
 Sunrise is grand from mountain tops, 
 
 We've seen it from the Eighi's, 
 But then we missed its gorgeous set, 
 
 Por we were down at Weggis. 
 We've hailed the Lake whose shores repeat 
 
 The story of the apple, 
 And yet we missed — ah woful miss ! — 
 The glorious William's Chapel. 
 
 We take with philosophic mind, 
 
 Like sagest Samuel Wellcr, 
 Whatever beverage we find 
 
 Eemaining in the cellar. 
 We eat with grace the doubtful steak, 
 
 And glory in the mustard, 
 Nor spoil ovir dinner with a sigh 
 
 Fox oyster sauce and custard. 
 
 fl'endaiit 'la guerre dn Palatinat en 1GS9, le general Melan, coutraircniriil 
 u lacouventiou couclue a cet egard, lit saiiter le ciialeau : en 1093 la devastatiou 
 flit reiiouvelee. Le chateau fut restaure sous Charles Philippe (1710). — 
 
 .BltDKKJiK.
 
 !§.(} THE TUN UNVISITED. 
 
 Then wliy sliould we, wlio take what sun 
 
 Or shade our pathway mottles, 
 Lament we missed a Tun that holds 
 
 Three hundred thousand bottles ? 
 Sore words seemed these to folk who came 
 
 Resolved for Tun and Castle : 
 — AVe turned about and down we went 
 
 And took the train for Basel.
 
 Seioprt lagndl 
 
 EWPORT PAGNELL has recently opened a railway. It 
 is a pudding-bag railway it is true, but it promises to gu 
 on some day to Olney and Wellingborougli. At present, 
 however, it is only a pudding-bag and a promise. When 
 you ask Newport Pagnell people when there is to be any 
 more of it they generally answer, curtly and grimly, like 
 Poe's raven above the chamber door — " Never more." " Only this 
 and nothing more." " Never" is a long date, and we, having lived 
 long enough to see greater marvels than anything implied in the 
 continuation of a few miles of railway, have faith that the Newport 
 Pagnell line will have stations at Olney and Wellingborough some 
 (lay. Have not all railways, and has not the electric telegrapli 
 sprung into existence within living memory ? Do we not remember 
 when canals were the marvels of civil-engineering, and four-horse 
 stages the wonders of travelling ? Meantime, even as a pudding- 
 bag, Newport is benefitting by her railway. Assuredly the good 
 old town looks cheerier than it has done since that woe-begone day 
 when it shook hands with the last coachman ; and nine-caped coats, 
 and long whips, and "ribbons," and ostlers, and horses with not 
 much more than three legs perhaps, but full of blood and breed, 
 and kicking, and corn and " go " wei'e put hors de combat. 
 Newport is Newport still, a pretty, pleasant town, and to be 
 recognized even through the changes of forty years. There are 
 new houses indeed about it. But there are old places to 
 be met with, some of which scarcely seem older than they
 
 182 KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 were in that far-off time, and unspoiled by improvement, Tlie 
 " Swan," for example, is the " Swan " of the coaching days, 
 externally, and, apparently, internally too, and the still older 
 ailjoining- structure, the Saracen's Head, though an inn no longer, 
 and divided and sub-divided in respect of its ground floor, wears 
 the same aspect in its upper stories, and has the same windows 
 which it probably had when the town was held by the Parliament 
 against King Charles. What we chiefly miss is the bustle of the 
 busy traffic of the coaches, the incessant going and coming, and 
 " the old familiar faces " that greet us no more. Standing opposite 
 the " Swan " we can recall the arrival of the Northampton stage, 
 as it swept round the corner of St. John Street, and drew up before 
 the well-known hotel. The horses were all upon their haunches, 
 for the coachman had a pride to show with what ease they had done 
 their stage, and the horses were sure to put a best foot foremost 
 coming to the close of their work. But the coach is nothing 
 compared with the landlady. Who has forgotten her who ever saw 
 her? She was out at the doorway the moment the coach drew up, 
 dressed " up to the nines," whatever they might be ; dressed, at all 
 events, not a little in excess of the prevailing fashion. Gorgeous in 
 silks, gay with streamers, and " washing her hands with invisible 
 soap," she was there to welcome all comers. Endless house-bells 
 and ostlers' bells at her summons set ringing ; chambermaids and 
 other maids followed in her wake ; ostlers and stable boys sprang 
 from every coigne of vantage ; if you wanted anything your fear 
 was that you might have it ten times over ; if you wanted nothing 
 you felt ashamed in such a supplying presence that you had no 
 demand to meet it. A model landlady she was. There remains 
 the wainscoted parlour to the right — the commercial room we 
 believe it is — at the door of which she used to stand, still performing 
 the operation of washing her hands, but with a slower movement, 
 as if to give greater emphasis to tlie bill of fare at your command, 
 as she called it over item by item. Before each was a conjunction 
 i»n very large type, a kind of flourish of drmns and trumpets tU'
 
 '- NEWPORT PAGNELL. 183 
 
 introduce it, sometliing after this fasliion : — We have roast beef — 
 And we have boiled beef; — And we have loin of mutton ; — And 
 we have mutton chops ; — And we have pork chops ; — And wc 
 have pigeon pie ; and so on, heralding the contents of everything 
 in the larder. Not hurried on, but in a slow time, sufficient for the 
 hearer to taste, as it were, preliminarily, each dish in imagination, 
 and with a few bars rest between to give each its independent value. 
 Business is business is her motto. But on drow^sy summer 
 afternoons, when the bustle was over, and all things promised ;i 
 calm, she might be seen sailing down High Street under a parasol, 
 the glass of Fashion, conscious that she had earned a right to her 
 leisure. Other landladies have come and gone since then, each 
 with her special merits doubtless. But this w^as the typical landlady 
 of the time, living in our memory. .Somehow she always reminded 
 us of a song in a farce very popular in our boyhood, in which a 
 traveller halts at an inn kept by a widow. He had the misfortune 
 to be a very ugly man, and the landlady slighted her guest, and the 
 chambermaid laughed at him outright. But the traveller had money, 
 and manifested his wealth ; he paid like a Prince — 
 
 "ijave the widow a smack, 
 
 Then flopped oa his horse at the door like a sack, 
 
 While the landlady, touching the chink, 
 Cried, ' sir, if you travel this country again, 
 I heartily hope that the sweetest of men 
 
 Will stop at the widow's to drink.' " 
 
 We cannot say we ever saw a man ugly or bold enough to 
 give " a smack" to our typical landlady, nor was she a widow when 
 we knew her. Yet so it was. We always thought of the widow 
 in the song, when we saw the landlady of the Swan, and the last 
 three lines insisted on thrusting themselves into our memory, as il' 
 she were repeating them. 
 
 It has been the fate of Newport Pagnell to have all its 
 entrances made highways in their turn. Less than forty years ago, 
 the London entrance was by St. John's Street. The railway
 
 IS-i RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 brouslit the London traffic alono^ tlie Wolverton road. No^% 
 the new railway debouches at Mr. Hives' wharf, and the way into 
 the town bifurcates, partly at the entrance to the Wolverton road, 
 aad partly along; ]\Iarsh end, which has hitherto been a sort of back 
 street. Already we see some alterations, apparently in consequence. 
 New houses have been built, and there is a general air of traffic 
 which was wanting heretofore. It is a picturesque way upon the 
 whole, with every variety of house in it ; charmingly irregular gables 
 next the street, and rambling backways Avith out- houses and 
 gardens and old trees and tumble down sheds ; stately houses with 
 pretensions to respectability ; houses with pleasant gardens before 
 them, well cared for ; cottages thatched and latticed, well-to-do and 
 ill-to-do ; little shops and big shops ; and lodgings for travellers. 
 Marsh End debouches into St. John Street, which, narrow as it is, 
 in the part next the High Street, twists and turns, and grows wider 
 and pleasanter towards the old London road, which crosses the 
 Ousel by an iron bridge. Before reaching the bridge, however, we 
 come to St. John's Hospital, a modern Gothic building of no 
 architectural interest, but having inserted into its front the following 
 inscription from an earlier structure: — 
 
 AL YOV GOOD CHRISTIANS THAT HERE DOOE PASS 
 
 BY GIVE SOMETHING TO THES POORE PEOPLE 
 
 THAT IN ST. lOHN'S HOSPITAL DOETH LY AXNO 1615. 
 
 Sometimes this Hospital is called Queen Anne's, a curt 
 description calculated to mislead. The original foundation dates 
 as far back as Edward I. It had fallen into decay, however, at 
 what period we do not know, and was re-founded by Anne of 
 Denmark, Queen of James I., for a master, three poor men, and 
 three poor women. With this latter foundation the inscription Ave 
 have quoted is contemporary. 
 
 Crossing the bridge over the Ousel, we come into a wider road, 
 whence, in the coaching days, the traveller from London saw on the 
 right the noble church, charmingly situated. The ground rises
 
 ,, NEWPORT PAGNELL. 185 
 
 rapidly from tlie Ousel, and tlie cliurcli stands at an angle on the 
 eminence, showing its entire southern side from west to east. Of 
 the church itself presently. It is a pleasant suburb along the 
 London road, including every variety of building. " The Wrestler's 
 Inn," on the east side, is picturesquely primitive and comfortable. 
 It is a long, low, respectable building, thatched, one storied, with 
 dormer windows in the roof, and barge boards. Ee-crossing the 
 bridge, we can get to the church by a turning to the right, and 
 winding round the northern side, reach the churchyard through the 
 cemetery, which was attached to it a few years since. The cemetery 
 is healthily situated, and looks over a wide expanse of country to 
 the east and north. The old churchyard and church are to the 
 west. The church is a large aud handsome structure, with a tower 
 of the Perpendicular period. The labels of the east windows form 
 a depressed arch, and are curled up at the end. The south aisle 
 is modern. Over the north porch there is a parvise. The south 
 porch is very lovely. The outer archway is boldly and elegantly 
 cusped over an inner arch, also cusped. The inner doorway is of 
 the same character, and the effect is very rich and beautiful. The 
 mouldings arc terminated by grotesque descending lions. The 
 inner walls are ornamented with an arcade of sexfoil arches 
 surmounted with a notched double moulding. The original wood 
 roof is in excellent preservation. Cross timbers are carried on four 
 small whole length figures, and a corbel head is at each corner. A 
 central boss is carved with flowers. 
 
 On the north side of the churchyard is a row of seven small 
 houses, over which is the inscription " Re vis's Almshouses, 1703." 
 They are an endowment by Mr. John Eevis for four poor men and 
 three women, with six shillings a week, a chaldron of coals, a coat 
 to each man, and a gown to each woman. Mr. Eevis was a luien 
 draper at Charing Cross, the son of an apothecary of Newport 
 Fagnell, where he was born. He acquired a good fortune " witii 
 justice and honour," as his epitaph says, and died in 1758, leaving 
 these and other charities to his native town. The name of Eevis is
 
 18(3 RAMBLES EOUNDABOUT : 
 
 still familiar in the neiglibourliood, but this good Samaritan was, 
 we believe, the last of his family. The houses consist, apparently, 
 of one lower and one upper room. Looking into the churchyanl 
 (where now, we presume, no burials take place), they also look 
 across it towards the river with a row of trees bordering it. A 
 quiet retreat for weary age, not a hermitage quite, nor yet in tht; 
 stream of active life. Paint sounds of street music reach it on week 
 days, and on Sundays the oi-gan and the church choir must be yet 
 more audible — fittin"lv so for those who are nearer the close than 
 the commencement of life's journey. At the entrance to the 
 cemetery there is a veiy neat lodge and chapel for the burial 
 services of those who dissent from the Church. Not far oif is a 
 notice that " all visitors are expected in general to keep on the 
 gravelled path" — somewhat reminding one of that old translation 
 of Giraldus Cambrensis, in which the " variable and fickle nature 
 of woman" is referred to as the source from which "all evils, /o?* 
 the most part, do happen and come." The notice would be better 
 without the qualifying words. What they refer to may be well 
 understood, and should be felt reverently by all. The custom whidi 
 has come to us of late years from the Continent of decorating the 
 graves with flowers is here largely observed, and is in itself touching. 
 It cannot be maintained permanently, but it is a graceful token of 
 remembrance while it lasts. And this practical world of ours is 
 none the worse for a sentiment of any kind, especially for one so 
 sacred as the keeping alive the memory of the beloved dead. 
 
 A stone bridge crosses the Ouse at the north-eastern entrance 
 to the town. Drayton, in his Polyolbion, speaks of the Ouse and 
 Ouselle — 
 
 " Invention, as before, thy high-pitched pinions rouse, 
 
 Exactly to set down how the far-wand'ring Ouse 
 
 Through the Bedfordian fields deliciously doth strain, 
 
 As holding on her course by Huntingdon again. 
 
 How bravely she herself betwixt her banks doth bear. 
 
 Ere Ely she in-isle, a goddess honour'd there ; 
 
 From Brackley breaking forth through soils most heavenly sv, eet.
 
 '- NEWPOKT PAGNELL. 1S7 
 
 By Buckingham ratikes on, and, crossing Watling-street, 
 She with her lesser Ouse at Newport nest doth twin : 
 Which from proud Chiltern near comes easily ambling in. 
 The brook which on her bank doth boast that earth alone ; 
 Which noted of this isle converteth wood to stone, 
 That little Aspley's earth we anciently enstyle 
 'Mongst sundry other things a wonder of the isle ; 
 Of which the lesser Ouse oft boasteth in her way. 
 As she herself with flowers doth gorgeously array." 
 
 The Ousel is also called the Lovatt and the Willen. 
 
 Leaning over the parapet of tlie Ouse bridg-e on either side is 
 a pleasant idleness. On one side a well-kept garden sweeps down 
 to the water's edge, and the opposite hank is overhung with trees. 
 On the other side the river is crossed by a mill, and the water comes 
 spitting and dashing through in a mass of white foam. Gardens 
 here, too, of humbler character, but not less gratifying to the sight, 
 come down to the stream. To the north are far- stretching meadows, 
 green with moisture, and reminding one of Cowper. At this end 
 of the town, on the south side of the street, is a good old brick 
 house. One would like to know who lived there a hundred years 
 ago. The opening opposite leads to a way which runs the whole 
 length of the back of the High-street. An almshouse connected 
 with the Independent chapel is in this lane. Of the chapel itself 
 there is an interesting account in the Rev. Josiah Bull's Memorials 
 of his eminent grandfather, the Rev. William Bull, the friend of 
 Newton and of Cowper. Somewhere about the middle of the 
 seventeenth century the living of Newport Pagnell was held by the 
 Rev. John Gibbs. Early in the year IGGO, he was ejected from 
 the vicarage for having refused the ordinance of the Lord's Supper 
 to a man of considerable influence in the parish, who was 
 notoriously immoral. 
 
 " At this time," says i\Tr. Bull, "Mr. Gibbs possessed- two houses in the 
 High street of Newport; and at the larther end of a long yard, running by 
 the side of them, was a barn which tradition informs us had been once used ai«- 
 a Quakers' Meeting House. Excluded from his pulpit in the church, this good
 
 ISS RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 man retreated with a considerable portion of his eona;regation to this place, and 
 there administered to them the Word of Life. In the persecuting times which 
 soon followed, the situation of this barn was such as to afford great facility of 
 escape to the congregation when they were likely to be disturbed by informers, 
 for not only was the barn at some distance from the High Street, but there was 
 also access from it to a back street. Amongst Mr. Gibbs's devoted followers 
 was a physician in the town, a Dr. Waller. To avoid imprisonment for the 
 crime of obeying his conscience, he concealed himself, it is said, for ten months 
 in some of the out-offices belonging to his house, which being immediately 
 contiguous to the barn in question, at the time of public worship, he left his 
 retreat, and availed himself of these religious opportunities, thus no doubt 
 rendered very precious to him. It may be added that so great was the 
 persecution of Nonconformists in the county, that having tilled the common 
 gaol at Aylesbury, the magistrates were compelled to hire two large houses in 
 the town to receive their prisoners. The Toleration Act was passed in the year 
 1G89, and it was probably about this time that the Meeting House at Newport 
 was erected. It joined the barn where the congregation at first worshipped ; 
 and eventually the greater part of that humble but hallowed retreat was 
 removed to increase the accommodation of the more permanent building. The 
 barn subsequently became the property of the Eev. William Bull, and what 
 remains of it is still sacredly preserved. Mr. Gibbs now preached the Gospel 
 without fear or hindrance; but in the erection of the new place of worship an 
 opening was left in the wall at the back of the pulpit to afford means of escape 
 should times of persecution again return. This good man continued his labours 
 till 1699, when he died at the age of '^2, having been vicar of the parish for 
 twelve years, and for thirty-eight the pastor of the Independent Church. In 
 the year 1769 the Rev. W^illium Bull became the owner of the premises once iu 
 the occupation of Mr. Gibbs. Mr. Bull had lived in the house for about fifty 
 years, when in making some repairs he accidentally came upon a small room or 
 closet about four feet square. It was between two walls at the side of a large 
 old chimney, and had evidently been a hiding place, for the only entrance 
 to it was from a trap -door beneath, which was concealed from view in the 
 old-fashioned chimney place. I have now in my possession some buttons of a 
 coat, two tobacco pipes, the bowls of which are exceedingly small, and some 
 silver coins — aU of which were found there." 
 
 We fear tliis curious chamber exists no longer. Pity it was 
 not preserved, as an elegant chapter in the history of an intolerance 
 utterly at variance with the Christianity it affects to vindicate. A
 
 /* ?fE"WPOKT PAGNELL. 189 
 
 cheap edition of the volume from wliich we make this extract has 
 recently been issued. It should be a household book with Non- 
 conformists. In what estimation the Eev. William Bull was held 
 by the good and the learned and the gifted of his time we gather 
 from the eulogies of such men as Cowper and Newton. In a letter 
 to Mr. Unwin, Cowper says of him : — 
 
 " You are not acquainted with him ; perhaps it is as well for you that you 
 ai-e not. You would regret still more than you do that there are so many miles 
 interposed between us. He spends part of the day with us to-morrow. A 
 Dissenter, but a liberal oue ; a man of letters and of genius ; a ma-.ter of a fine 
 imagination, or rather not master of it — an imagination which, when he finds 
 himself in the company he loves, and can confide in, runs away into such 
 fields of speculation as amuse and enliven every other imagination that has the 
 happiness to be of the party. At other times he has a tender and delicate sort 
 of melancholy in his disposition, not less agreeable in its way. He can be lively 
 without levity, and pensive without dejection. Such a man is Mr. Bull. But 
 he smokes tobacco ! Nothing is perfect. iNihil est ah omne parte beatitm." 
 
 Cowper, however, became very tolerant of his friend's failing. 
 
 Apostrophising the nymph of Orinoco he supplicates for pardon for 
 
 having touched— 
 
 " With a satiric wipe 
 That symbol of thy power, the pipe." 
 
 And he concludes : — 
 
 " So may thy votaries increase. 
 And fumigation never cease. 
 May Newton with rencw'd delights 
 Perform thine odoriferous rites, 
 AVhile clouds of incense half divine 
 Involve thy disappearing shriue. 
 And so may smoke-inhaling Bull, 
 Be always filling never full." 
 
 More poetical still, though the form be prose, is a passage iu 
 a letter from the poet to his reverend friend himself: — 
 
 " My dear Friend, — My greenhouse, fronted with myrtles, and where T 
 hear nothing but the pattering of a fine shower and the sound of distant 
 thunder, wants only the fumes of your pipe to make it perfectly delightful.
 
 190 KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT. 
 
 Tobacco was not known in tlie golden age — so much the worse for the golden 
 age ! This age of iron or lead would be insupportable without it, and therefore 
 we may reasonably suppose that the happiness of those better days would have 
 been much improved by the use of it." 
 
 About the year 1738 the ground upon which the Chapel stood 
 belonged to a person who became bankrupt, and being seized br 
 his creditors, Dr. Doddridge generously purchased it, and conveyed 
 it to trustees, taking his chance of being reimbursed by a 
 subscription. In 1743 the pastorate was held by the Eev. 
 Humphrey Gainsborough, a brother of the eminent artist. 
 
 To talk about Newport Pagnell, and not to say a word about 
 Tludibras would be the proverbial Hamlet, without the Prince of 
 Denmark:. In 1645 Sir Samuel Luke was governor of Newport, 
 and held the town for the Parliament. Sir Samuel had a seat at 
 Cople Hoo, near Bedford, and other estates in Bedfordshire and 
 Northamptonshire, and was altogether a man of wealth, of mark 
 and of influence. Butler had been brought up a staunch Royalist, 
 yet he entered the service of Sir Samuel Luke, under what eirounl- 
 stances does not appear, and while there is supposed to have made 
 the observations and collected the materials for his famous poem. 
 It is scarcely possible to resist the evidence that Sir Samuel was the 
 original of Hudibras. There can be no doubt of the name required 
 to fill up the blank in the following verse : — 
 
 " 'Tis sung, there is a valiant Mameluke 
 In foreign land yclep'd " — 
 
 Rhythm and rhyme alike require the name. Sir Samuel Luke, and 
 it would need the marvellous rhyming dexterity of Batler himself 
 to devise anything which would fit the occasion so thoroughly. 
 
 Newport Pagnell derives its second name from the Paganells, 
 whose ancestors held the land at the time of the Norman Conquest. 
 Fulk Paganell, in the reign of William Rufus, founded a cell of 
 Cluniac monks at Tickford. The Paganells had a castle at Newport 
 ou the site of the Castle Mead.
 
 Ca p. |. J. 
 
 Y worthy sire the worthy son. 
 Welcome, Hug-h, to Twenty-one ; 
 Mark the day with feast and fun, 
 Bid the cask and bottle run, 
 Cares of every colour shun — 
 Devils blue and black and dun. 
 June ! shine out your gladdest sun ! 
 Hugh to day is twenty-one. 
 
 When a man is twenty-one, 
 Then life's battle is begun. 
 Farewell lollipop and bun ! 
 Work before us must be done, 
 Duties to ourselves and others, 
 To our sisters, fathers, mothers ; 
 Duties not without their guerdon, 
 Heavy sometimes though the burden. 
 Duties that we must fulfil 
 With a hearty, earnest will, 
 So we may in joy or sorrow 
 Fearless iace the coming morrow. 
 
 Ah ! it will be so with you, 
 Open-hearted, kindly Hugh ! 
 Easily in whom we trace 
 Father's heart as father's face ;
 
 192 TO II. p. V. 
 
 Liberal hand and active mind, 
 Earnest spii-it, tastes refined ; 
 Nothing selfish, nothing sordid, 
 Shall of either be recorded. 
 
 Welcome, then, to tAventy-one ; 
 May your path be in the sun ; 
 Eut, lest shadows chance to fall 
 (As they will sometimes o'er all), 
 Cheerfulness within your breast 
 Keep, an ever cherished guest ; 
 ]\Iindful of what sages say. 
 Merry hearts go all the day — 
 All the dav unwearied, while 
 Sad ones tire within the mile. 
 Hail the day, then — gladder none ; 
 Welcome Hugh to twentv-one. 
 
 
 
 ■^^tm?^
 
 'wm^^- 
 
 wir% 
 
 )Wa 
 
 
 lleckit ficcL 
 
 ,E can imagine a time when Weedon, or, wliat is now 
 (f-iJ o\ distinguished as Lower TVcedon, was a very rur;i,l, 
 Ujjbjy very picturesque group of tlioroughly rustic cottage 
 sheltered north and east, and sleeping in the sunshines 
 with a clear brook running through the midst singing 
 <j) a lullaby. But to realize this picture we must go back 
 
 more than half a century. Within that period civilization has been 
 paying court to it witli an assiduity which, as compared with its 
 l)eneficial results, affords firm ground for an action for breach of 
 promise. No doubt the Grand Military Depot spends much money 
 there, but hardly, perhaps, in proportion to the magnitude of its 
 pretensions. The Grand Junction Canal also brings, we suppose, 
 something, but in very insignificant proportion to its hnge 
 embankment. Lastly, the Eailway. That, too, must do something 
 for it, but certainly not sufficient to counterbalance the injury it 
 inflicted by di-i\ang the coaches from the road. And woefully have 
 these two latter visitors marred its village-like character and 
 picturesqueness. The traveller looks down with astonishment at 
 that lonely church isolated and banked in an angle of dreai-y 
 ground, treeless and shrubless. Once the site must have been 
 pleasant enough, just without the village and with a sweep of 
 open countiy eastward and gradual slopes to tlie north. The canal 
 was the first innovation, shutting it in on tlie east with a long 
 embankment 30 feet high. Then came the railway, with a still 
 more formidable fence, cutting it off fiom the village, and leaving
 
 194 KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 it ill a sort of triangular liole. Seen from tlie rail the edifice lias a 
 very unattractive appearance. In 1823 the nave was either rebuilt 
 or so much repaired and altered as to be " as good as new," in the 
 most approved style of churchwarden's architecture. But the 
 tower is not without interest. It retains its Norman arched belfry 
 windows on the north and sou1h sides, and on the latter a Normau 
 loophole. There is rather a curious assortment of corbel heads, 
 two rows of four each, in each front. The west door has a good 
 flat-lieaded arch, with spandrels under a flat hood moulding. 
 Leland describes the " Paroche cliirch " as " raeane." It is 
 dedicated to St. Peter. The village, the same venerable antiquary 
 describes as " a praty thorough fare sette on a playne ground, and 
 much celebrated by cariers, bycause it stondeth hard by the famose 
 Way there, communely caullid of the Peeple Watheiinge Streete. 
 And upon this the tounelet is caullid Wedou on tlie Streete. The 
 tounelet of itself is meanc, and hath no market. And the Paroche 
 Chirch is as meane." Leland's mention of the carriers is very 
 suggestive of a state of things long past away — of a time when 
 goods were transported by long strings of pack-horses, and such 
 conversations took place in early moi'aing as Shakspeare thus 
 records : — 
 
 " An Inn Yard. 'Enter a carrier with a lantern in Ms hand. 
 
 " 1*^ Carrier : Heigh lio ! An't be not four by the day, I'll be hanged ; 
 Charles's "Wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not packed. 
 What, ostler ! 
 
 " Ostler ftvithin) : Anon, anon. 
 
 " \st Carrier : I pry'thee, Tom, beat Cut's sadddle, put a few flocks in 
 the point ; the poor jade is wrung in the withers out ot all cess. 
 
 " Enter another Carrier. 
 
 " %nd Carrier : Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is 
 the next way to give poor jades the hots : this house is turned upside down 
 since Kobin ostler died. 
 
 " 1st Carrier : Poor fellow ! never joyed since the price of oats rose ; it 
 was the death of hinj." 
 
 Who that has heard Cowden Clarke deliver this scene does 
 not roar with the very remembrance of that rich and truthful bil>
 
 '* WEEDON BECK. 195 
 
 of acting? There is a small house, " The Fox and Hounds," just 
 at the entrance to the village, which may liavc been in its day one 
 of those carrier's halting-places. Standing near this house one 
 seems to see the events of centuries flung in confusion togetlier. 
 The huge railway arch, is over-head, and the train flies by with a 
 shriek like that of a fiend on some direful errand ; the view is 
 bounded by the lofty canal embankment, along which a worn steed 
 slowly labours with the canal boat ; midway stands the church 
 tower, originally and still obviously Norman ; on your right is the 
 little hostelrie just mentioned ; and as your thoughts go back to 
 poor Eobin Ostler, who died because the price of oats rose, you see 
 a smart artilleryman issue from the door. What a chronological 
 jumble it is ! 
 
 Once upon a time the Mercian Kings had a palace here. 
 One of them, Ethelred, converted it into a nunnery, which lie 
 placed under the superintendence of his niece Werburgh. That 
 good lady took the veil in the abbey of Ely, and on her appointment 
 to Weedon the wild geese of the Ely marshes seem to have 
 considered that they had thereby acquired a right to participate in 
 the revenues of the new demesne. Northamptonshire farmers in 
 those days were not exactly what Northamptonshire farmers are 
 now, but they knew how to grow corn of a quality which appeal's 
 to have been eminently grateful to the geese of Ely, and heavy was 
 tlie tithe those fearful wild fowl took of it. At last such was the 
 grievance that St. Werburgh forbade them the parish, and they 
 obeyed her, geese as they were, and in Bridges' time, about the 
 (•oiiimenceinent of the last century, it was the popular belief that 
 110 wikl geese Avere ever seen to settle or graze in Wecdou field. 
 [)rayton alludes to this legend when, speaking of the course of the 
 Neil, he says ; — 
 
 "She falleth in her way with Weedon, wlare 'tis snid 
 St. Werburgh princely born, a most religious maul, 
 From those peculiar fields by prayer the wild-fowl drove." 
 
 St. Werburgli's nunnery was destroyed by the Danes in the iiintli
 
 lOT) E AMBLES ROUNDABOUT. 
 
 ceutuiT, but SO late as the time of Leland tlierc was "a faire 
 clinpcl " dedicated to the saint, a little from the south side of the 
 church. And in the "Ashe Yards," south of the church, ohl 
 foundations have from time to time been disturbed, the probable 
 ruins of nunnery and palace. 
 
 " The Roman Watling Street," says Baker, " is generally supposed to quit 
 the great Chester road at the lane, or street road, as it is called in Lower 
 Weedon ; but the Roman road diverged from the present turnpike road at the 
 bottom of the hill near Stowe, passed along the Hill Land lane, by Ash Yards 
 near the church, over the Nen, leaving the Ordnance Buildings to the right, by 
 Leesborough way towards Mr. Hewitt's, formerly the Globe Inn, and thence 
 into the lane above alluded to, which from this point is identified with the 
 Watliug Street, and leaves this county at Dove Bridge." 
 
 In Lower Weedon there are traces of sixteenth-century 
 domestic buildings ; one on the right, now divided into different 
 tenements, appears originally to have been of some importance.
 
 ii §wbkit Uintcr. 
 
 ESTERDAY, Autumn. On the slope we stood, 
 And saw beneath us the umbrageous wood, 
 Eich with a thousand hues, — crimson and gold 
 And most luxurious brown. The air was chill 
 And moist, but the leaves cluster'd thickly still, 
 Like mantles, which around us closer fold 
 When mists about us rise ; like the Avarm load 
 That ever-provident Nature hath bestowed 
 Upon the patient sheep 'gainst freezing rains. 
 
 Yesterday, glowing Autumn ; and to-day, 
 Winter. In one fierce night the yellow plains 
 Are whitened, and the rivulet's pleasant way 
 Is stayed ; the woods, beneath a double w^eight, 
 Are bending to the ground. 
 
 Heap high the grate. 
 And gather round the hearth dear friends, and loves 
 Domestic ; wheel the glad piano round, 
 So that the hand that o'er the ivory roves 
 May feel the generous warmth, and livelier bound. 
 Bring us, too, piles of our beloved books. 
 That we may read of Summer haunts, where brooks 
 Are singing iu the sun, and Bacchant girls, 
 With amber vine-loaves twining midst their curls, 
 Dance onward laughingly, and, merry-eyed,
 
 I'JS A SUDDEN WINTER. 
 
 Dash with white foot the glittering stream aside ; 
 Of moon-lit orange-groves, where virgin ears 
 Drink love-dranghts poured by mantled cavaliers. 
 
 And bring us pictures : Titian's glowing hues. 
 
 And Claude's immortal sunlights. So diffuse 
 
 Summer about us, till by some rude token 
 
 Of the rude season the strong charm is broken ; 
 
 Then, having known the change a little time. 
 
 Plunge with renewed delight back to our generous clinic
 
 farnlDcU St. %\\kW% anJr ^^]anvlmil ^11 ^iunts\ 
 
 o 
 
 )VE11Y Eailvvay lias its secluded Stations — Stations of 
 wliicli you may remain in utter ignorance, though you may 
 have travelled the line for years, till, for some reason, 
 disjointed and out of all ordinary course, you chance to 
 travel by a train by which you never travelled before, and, 
 lo ! a swarm of Stations crop up which never blossom' d 
 for you till now, and which you had shot by in bewildered 
 ignorance. Yet they are the prettiest of all. Between first-class 
 Station and tirst-class Station what is the difference ? Simply 
 that between Pompey and Cajsar, who are proverbially " very much 
 alike, 'specially Pompey." There is the same long platform ; the 
 same W. H. Smith and Son's bookstall ; the same invitation to 
 become the proprietor of a " Sommier Elastique portatif"; or a 
 Brogdeu or a Wotherspoon's gold chain; or an overcoat from 
 Moses ; or to encase yourself in a remarkably unsymmetrical pair 
 of peg-tops (with pockets to thrust your hands in) ; the same 
 multitude of out-goers and in-comers, the same compound odoui's 
 of steam, smoke, lamp oil, and railway grease. Give us for our 
 holiday delectation none of these entrance gates to new Babels, but 
 one of those by-way Stations which only the slowest trains 
 discover, and which make you marvel how they ever came to be 
 made. 
 
 Such a Station is Barnwell All Saints' on the Northampton 
 and l^;terborough line. On a railway though it be; though 
 thousands of busy human beings fleet past it daily, and it would
 
 ■200 EAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 scarcely answer to the ideal of Spenser's " little lowly liermitage," 
 Yft on approaching- it one can scarcely help breaking into the 
 enthusiastic greeting : — 
 
 " Hail, abode of sacred quiet, 
 
 Deep embosomed in the glen ; 
 
 Far removed from pomp and riot, 
 
 And tlic busy hum of men." 
 
 Not far removed from the latter in reality, bnt rather on the very 
 brink of it, but no more atfected by it than by the brief flash of 
 tlie " lightning in the coUied night." 
 
 The Station itself modestly befits its condition. It is small, 
 picturesqiie, and unpretending, with snug, in-door shelter for winter 
 travellers (who must rarely indeed travel there) ; and pleasant 
 out-door seats for the brinht summer-time. There is g-avden 
 ground attached, carefully tended. The station-master must have,- 
 one thmks, a pleasant time of it, working tranquilly at his little 
 plot. Through the loopholes of his retreat he sees the stir, without 
 feeling the crowd. Better be a cyclop in Vulcan's own caverns 
 than a station-master at a first-class Station, where intersecting lines 
 cross each other in bewildering confusion ; where all is clamour 
 and noise, the thundering of wheels and the shrieking of whistles, 
 and tlie ringing of railway bells and the bawling of newspaper 
 boys, and dread of careless switchmen and reckless platelayers, and 
 horrible anticipations of trains running into each other ; but here 
 there is quiet and, one imagines, leisure, and time for thought and 
 ti-aiK]uil enjoyment. One Avouldn't object to being a station- 
 master here with one's books and pencils. 
 
 But the special attraction of Barnwell is its bowery aspect. 
 Noble chestnuts, glorious in the Spring-time with their pyramidal 
 blossoms, invite you to explore its rural paths. We only wish the 
 Post Office did not stand Avhere it does, or that it were more in 
 keeping with its neighbour cottages, and not a horrid bit of Batty 
 Langley Gothic, that sets one's teeth on edge. It is wortli 
 anybody's while to stop for a train or two at Barnwell; it has its
 
 ,^ . BARNWELL. 201 
 
 peculiar characteristics, natural and artificial. Descending the 
 winding road from the Station, with the Church on your left, and 
 Latham's Alms Houses on your riglit, the village crosses you at 
 right angles — one long street, with a stream running through its 
 midst, not the gutter of a French town, but a broad, natural piece 
 of water; now rolling with a good volume; sometimes, after a 
 draught, fertile with watercresses and tall grasses, covered with 
 duck-weed and all aquatic plants, and crossed by all kinds of 
 bridges : here, by a one-railed plank ; there, by stepping stones ; 
 then by a single ivy-clad arch, and here, opposite the Montague 
 Arms, by a bridge of two arches. The houses stand on the 
 bordering slopes — not in continuous rows, but with frequent 
 intervals of vacant closes on either side. This is Barnwell St. 
 Andrew ; at its southern extremity lies Barnwell All Saints' — once, 
 evidently, of far greater importance than it now pretends to be. 
 Here the interspaces become more frequent and larger, and in them, 
 occasionally, are traces of old foundations. A path leads to the 
 remains of the Church, now a mortuary chapel merely. The 
 Churchyard is bordered on the north by a row of fine old walnut 
 trees. In Bridges' time the Church was still standing, and the 
 historian tells us that it had a nave, with north and south aisles 
 and chancel. At the upper end of the south aisle was Mountague's 
 aisle, with a porch which bore a spire steeple, in which were four 
 balls. The Manor came into possession of the Mountague family 
 in the 2ith year of the reign of Charles II. Nothing but the 
 chancel remains, which serves, as we have said, as a chapel to the 
 burial ground in which it stands. The rest of the building was 
 demolished about forty years ago. The remains, generally, are of 
 Perpendicular style, but the chancel was fitted up by the 
 Mountagucs in the style of the day, with oak panelling and black 
 and white marble pavement. Among the monuments, with which 
 tlie walls are covered, is one in the gorgeous taste of the period, 
 (plaint and fanciful enough, yet touching in the sad story which it 
 tells. Beneath a pyramid of alabaster, profusely covered with the
 
 202 KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 armorial bearings of the Mouiitagnes, duly blazoned, is an arch 
 wliicli over-canopies the figure of a child, in the costume of the 
 aristocracy of two ceiiluries and a quarter ago, wiih the 
 inscription — 
 
 " Obiit, proli dolor, iipuiiitiire per aquas 28th Apr. 1625." 
 And bcnealh — 
 
 "Here under lyeth Interred Henry Monntagiie, Esq., (he only son of Sr. 
 Sidney Moujlague, Kt., one oftlie ivlasters of llequfsts to llie Ma'ties. of Kinvj 
 James aad King Charles and of Dame Paulina his ^Vi^e, lliird daughter of Joh. 
 Pepys, of Cottenhani, ia the County of Cambridge, Esq., a wittie aud hopeful! 
 child, tender and decre in the sight of his Parents, and much lamented of his 
 (Viends." 
 
 The story is I hat the poor chiUl, who was but three years old, fell 
 into the moat while reaching at an orange which he had dropped in 
 the water, and was drowned. The moat partly remains — a gloomy 
 ditch, overgrown with trees and rank weeds. The Manor House 
 which it once surrounded has long been demolished. It was 
 probably an ancient structure. Over the cliimney, says Bridges, 
 " is a rude representation of Bel and the Diagon, and of King 
 Nabuchodonosor looking on." The foundations of the Parsonage 
 House may be traced, with its terraced walks. 
 
 Returning northward, the only building requiring notice is 
 the Boys' School, a small building in the Tudor style, with this 
 inscription over the door : — 
 
 " Instruct me Lord 
 
 That I may Keep 
 
 Thy Lawes." 
 
 Crossing the bridge the visitor will find at the " Montague 
 Arms " a clear and cheerful parlour, good fare, and a civil host and 
 hostess.
 
 ®6e ittniiUpliia oi g^ctfjoten. 
 
 " As Beethoven was at my visit no longer to be found in the body, 1 
 resolved to make a pilgrimage to his tomb. * » * Beethoven resided in 
 one of a row of tall white houses, overlooking the city-walls, on the road to 
 Wahringe, the prettiest outlet of Vienna. In the cemetery of this quiet little 
 village, in a corner, against a low wall, from whence an infinite deal of 
 country may be seen, he reposes. * * * ^^j here, among rustic chapels, 
 wooden crucifixes, mounds of earth with flowers growing on them — such are 
 the simple memorials — one might become ' half in love with easeful death.' 
 The place itself might have been in Beethoven's life-time his study, for it was 
 ill the green lap of Nature, and among the old trees, that the composer wove 
 his fancies, and not by the flickering of a night-lamp. * * * The Germans 
 have a very pretty appellation for Beethoven ; they call him ' Tondichter' (the 
 I'oet of Sounds), instead of the ordinary name ' Tonkunstler' (the scicntitic 
 musician)." — Ramble among the Musicians of Germany. 
 
 An Attempt to Versify the Preceding. 
 
 Little from Vienna, as you go 
 To Wiiliringe, tliere is a pleasant row 
 Of white suburban houses — white and tall, 
 
 And over-looking the gay city's wall ; 
 
 Search every outlet, this the prettiest is of all. 
 
 Yet for its beauty only love it not ; 
 
 A charm more lasting consecrates the spot. 
 
 Perhaps the time may come when it shall be 
 
 Pent in a squalid, close vicinity 
 
 Where no sweet summer breeze shall bathe it balmily. 
 
 Let it be so, yet still about the place 
 
 Itself, there shall endure a kind of grace,
 
 201 THE BURIAL-PLACE OF BEETHOVEN. 
 
 Keepinj^ it lovely in poetic eyes, 
 What crime or woe soever round it lies ; 
 ]']ntliusiasts from all climes through many a year 
 demote shall journey hither. It was here 
 Beethoven lived ; — and died. 
 
 Onward a little still your footsteps guide, 
 Until you reach a quiet burying-ground, 
 In part by a low wall compassed around. 
 
 A lovely liaunt it is, with mucli to charm. 
 And nought to make the timid dream of harm ; 
 The pleasant country stretching far away 
 Looks happy thence, warm in the evening ray ; 
 And there the wind that sweeps o'er distant fiehls 
 Comes unobstructed and its fragrance yields ; 
 There among rustic chapels, crosses rude 
 Shaped by affection from the yet green -wood, 
 And grassy mounds of earth with ilowers above, 
 The simple tributes of surviving love, 
 The Poet of Sounds reposes : — Fitting rest. 
 
 Not by the flickering lamp his fancies blest, 
 ' lis said, were woven ; but in tlie green lap 
 Of Nature, lingering by the gravelly gap 
 Whence the clear rivulet trickles ; — Ijy old trees 
 Eloquent with remotest memories 
 Outnumbering their leaves, and phantasies 
 Goblin and Faery ; — down the moonlit lUiiue 
 Silently borne, by fort and ruined shrine. 
 Here too upon the threshold of his home, 
 Well may we deem that he was wont to come ; 
 And from the music of the wild bee's hum, — 
 Aud from the invisible lark's high treble, — from
 
 THE BURIAL-PLACE OF BEETHOVEK. 211.' 
 
 The thousand sylvan sounds that distance blends 
 
 (Harsh separate sounds) into one strain that ends 
 
 Upon the ear like music heard at night 
 
 O'er wide and tremulous waters, — from the sight 
 
 Of the far landscape lapped in misty ease 
 
 (Eor every sense bringeth sweet subtleties 
 
 To Genius — sisters true the Muses three, 
 
 Music, and Painting dear, and Poesy, 
 
 Eacli ministering to each) — from these, and more 
 
 Than the ungifted mind can dream of, store 
 
 Of priceless thoughts to hive. 
 
 A pleasant creed 
 It is, nor of the wildest that we read, 
 Tliat those we loved and honoured iipon eartli. 
 Not wholly pass from us in their new birth ; 
 But purer, happier essences, still keep 
 Sweet watch about us when we calmest sleep, 
 Or wakeful, thiak of them with moistened eyes, 
 And hearts iuform'd with fitting sympathies. 
 
 We'll hold that creed at least in haunts like thes^ 
 And hear Beethoven in the plaintive breeze. 
 Faint echo of remote, and subtlest harmonies.
 
 
 i;0rt6amjjt0n. 
 
 Bridge Street. 
 
 .RIDGE Street is the principal thoroughfare of North- 
 ampton, and, like all hardest workers, gets the most 
 kicks. Nobody has a word to say in its favour. It is 
 our Via Mala. It has everything that a great thoroughfare 
 ought not to have, and nothing that it should have. It 
 is narrow ; has hollows and steeps ; is dirty ; its paving 
 is always out of order ; it is choked with unsavoury smells ; is 
 smoky; squalid; full of "courts;" always crowded with brewers' 
 drays and trollies and carts full of the deposits of the pig-sty. 
 Late on a November night, when the fog lies low and undisturbed, 
 you walk through distinct strata of smells— grains, pig-sties, oil 
 cake, tallow-melting. The indictment is not to be gainsaid. All 
 these ills it has, yet something is still to be said in mitigation of 
 the censure. Let us take an impartial walk up it, supposinj^ 
 ourselves just arrived by the train. Of course topogi-aphy is 
 like biography. In both cases your eyes must see as 
 much as they can of the past as well as of the present, or you 
 will make a son-y and imperfect, if not an unjust, record of it. 
 Eminently unjust and uninteresting the mere present would be in 
 the case of Bridge Street, for, as we have admitted, the name of 
 its desagremens is legion. They thrust themselves upon us during 
 its entire transit; while its more interesting qualities may be 
 passed by unobserved. 
 
 By the general name of Bridge Street we now understand the 
 entire thoroughfare from the South Bridge to the George corner.
 
 ,^ NOETHAMPTON— BRIDGE-STREET. 207 
 
 But that was not so witliin present memory. Bridge Street was 
 probably named, not after the bridge that spans the Nene, but after 
 a Bridge which crossed the moat by which the town in its fortified 
 state was surrounded. The stream ran beneath the chapel of 
 St. Thomas's Hospital, and the South gate of the town Avas just 
 above it. St. Thomas's Brygge it is named in early documents. 
 The interval southward, betweea this bridge and the river, was 
 known as the South Quarter, though the distinctive appellation is 
 dying out. We begin our survey — if we may apply so grandiloquent 
 a term to our gossipping walk — at the south end of the South 
 Bridge, and we do so that we may call the reader's attention to the 
 pretty views from the bridge itself, on either hand ; on the right, 
 especially, with the poplars and other trees on the river bank, and 
 the island by the lock. Tlie river on summer evenings is gay with 
 pleasure boats, and so far the entrance to our town is cheering 
 enough. The predecessor of the present bridge had six arches, 
 though its span was probably not greater. In the memorable 
 May-flood, Avhich occurred on the 6th of May, 1663, the two chief 
 arches were carried away, and oue large one was afterwards 
 substituted for tliem. The water, says Bridges, flowed up into the 
 town almost to St. John's Hospital. Pepys makes this 
 memorandum of the event in his Diary : — 
 
 " Strange were the effects of the late thunder and lightning about a week 
 since at Northampton, coming with great rain, which caused extraordinary 
 floods in a few hours, bearing away bridges, drowning horses, men, and cattle. 
 Two men passing over a bridge on horseback, the arches before and behind 
 them were borne away, and that left which they were upon; but, however, one 
 of the horses fell over and was drowned. Stacks of faggots carried as high as a 
 steeple, and other dreadful things ; which Sir Thomas Crewe showed me letters 
 to him about from Mr. Freraantle and others that it is very true." 
 
 While yet the walls were standing which surrounded the town, 
 there were houses down to this point. Speed's map, which is dated 
 1610, gives nearly a coutiuuous line on each side, with intervals 
 only for bridges, to span streams crossing the street from the 
 western to the eastern bend of the Nen. There were four of these
 
 208 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 streams between tlie South Bridge and tlie St. Thomas's Bridge of 
 "which we have ah'eady spoken. In that early time it is probable 
 that the houses were small, with the exception of the inns, which 
 were no doubt numerous, with spacious accommodation in the 
 way of stabling and shelter for waggons and merchandize. The 
 " Malt Shovel" as one of these old hostelries, and was certainly 
 existing at the time of Speed's survey. It is, indeed, the oldest 
 house in the street. Its overhanging upper story belongs to an 
 early time, though it has undergone in other respects great and many 
 alterations. With this exception there is no house Avhich is prior 
 to a rather late period in the seventeenth century ; but of these 
 there are several. Even within living memory this portion of our 
 southern entrance retained something of a suburban aspect. 
 There was a brewery indeed, but it was of singularly unobtrusive 
 proportions compared with the towering chimney and gigantic 
 structure which has risen on its site. There was, we think, no 
 foundry fifty years ago ; at all events it was of veiy modest 
 pretensions. Entering the town by night on the box seat of the 
 Northampton coach, its small shops, lighted by one or two 
 glimmering caudles, looked at least sixty miles from the metropolis. 
 Diversified as its character now is, here huge breweries, there a 
 thatched cottage, here a little shop, there a large private residence, 
 it indicates a town of importance and wide extended business. 
 It is a suburb no longer, and has no suburban characteristics. Tall 
 chimneys wave their black plume of smoke across it ; brew^ers' drays, 
 huge trolleys, railway omnibuses, and carriers' carts choke it with 
 traffic. Country odours find no way up it, but smells antagonistic 
 fight each other, not in the jSovember night fogs only, but every 
 (lav, and all the dav long. 
 
 Yet glimpses of country are to be had notwithstanding. At 
 what period of civic histoiy people began to build courts at the 
 rear of their houses we cannot tell ; we suspect not much earlier 
 than the beginning of the eighteenth or quite the latter end of the 
 seventeenth centurv. One's theory about them is something of
 
 /* NORTHAMPTON — BRIDGE-STREET. 209 
 
 this sort: — A house in the country had usually a garden behind it 
 — an ample slice of ground with an orchard and ordinary trees, 
 and a paddock included. Between the houses on the east side of 
 the South Quarter, and the common called the Cow Meadow, there 
 is a very broad belt of land. A demand of tenements in the town 
 induced the owners of houses in the main street to build rows of 
 cottages at right angles with their houses ; a great sacrifice of 
 comfort to pecuniary advantage, according to our present ideas. 
 Still, when it was country all round about, when the main street 
 was a country highway, when the breath of the field was omni- 
 present, and the cottages themselves were faced with flower gardens, 
 and their occupants were, in a sense, members of the family circle, 
 the arrangements may not have been so objectionable. Not in 
 Northampton, at least. At Birmingham, the usual form of these 
 courts is a quadrangle, houses looking upon houses. In the 
 South Quarter, the ends of the courts, instead of being blocked up 
 with a tenement, were open to the fields beyond ; most of them 
 had a way into the meadow. The cottages, or court-houses, are 
 small enough as a rule,— "cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd;" but there 
 are classes who live very much out of doors, and, like the birds, 
 want but a roost for the night-time and a nest for the hatching. 
 How much this habit prevails may still be observed at the entrance 
 to these courts in the South Quarter. They are seldom wholly 
 deserted. A mother with a baby in her arms, and a gi-eat- 
 grandmother at licr elbow, are pretty sure to be found there ; later 
 in the day the knot grows larger, and towards evening it is larger 
 still, augmented by the father, or the brother, or the friend, or the 
 sweetheart, who adds a pipe to the enjoyment. The scene is not 
 equal to the poet's sketch of children running to 
 
 " Lisp their sire's return, 
 
 Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share" — 
 
 but the children are there too, and share the kisses and the cuffs 
 
 after the manner of the country. Multitudinous children there are 
 
 of course, Avho tumble about the footway, and escape miraculously 
 
 N
 
 210 KAMBLES ROUXDABOUT : 
 
 the perils of tlie horse road, which they love to defy. He must be 
 a churl who would pass the group without a certain sympathy with 
 their cheap indulgence, though one wishes that there was among 
 them a larger manifestation of attachment to soap and water and 
 combs. It has often struck us as a singular evidence how people 
 overlook the needs as well as the pleasures at their feet to seek 
 for those afar off and obscure, that no mission has ever been 
 instituted for the promotion of the personal cleanliness which these 
 three w^ords imply. A missionaiy in the shape of a sturdy and 
 strong charwoman would be a real blessing to many householders, 
 morally as well as physically. Too much of our teaching begins 
 at the wrong end, and topples over accordingly. The South 
 Quarter courts were formerly bounded by an open ditch, fed by 
 the stream which ran under St. Thomas's Bridge and Chapel, and 
 there may have been a time when it was a tolerably pure brook, 
 pleasant for the trees to dip in ; but it had long since become a 
 sewer and a nuisance, and was rightly covered over. On the site of 
 Mr. John Perry's house formerly stood a house which must have been 
 of considerable antiquity. The wharf adjoining was called Thaves' 
 Wharf. Carter, who etched the Architectural Antiquities, described, 
 in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1811, the front of this house as 
 having a basso relievo representing four combatants — two engaged 
 one with a sword, the other with a club ; the other two attacking 
 each other — one ^^delding a two-handed sword, and the other 
 defending himself with a quarter-stafi". A drawing of this basso 
 relievo was in the possession of the late Miss Eaker, but what has 
 become of it we do not know. Of St. Thomas's Hospital a 
 frao-ment yet survives, though sorely mutilated. Its front has been 
 modernized in all respects but one, but for which it might be 
 passed by unnoticed. Along the first story runs a band of fifteen 
 stone panels, each having a shield within a quatrefoil. Within the 
 o-ateway, the original beams are supported by grotesque corbels, 
 somewhat rudely sculptured, and in the right hand wall are recesses^ 
 or aumbries, with shelves. One has an ogee head, and probably
 
 /- NORTHAMPTON — BRIDGE STREET. 211 
 
 has been a piscina. The Perpendicular east end window still looks 
 grandly over the ruin beneath it, and is a picturesque object from 
 the Meadow. In the brook, Bridges tells us, "which runs from 
 St. Thomas's Hospital, on the north side of the Cow Meadow," 
 stood, during the wars between Charles I. and the Parliament, a 
 gunpowder mill, which was fed by saltpetre dug out of the old 
 cellars of the town. Fuller, waiting of the Natural Commodities 
 of Northamptonshire, says : — 
 
 " Now, though this shire shares as largely as any in those profits which 
 are general to England, grass, corn, cattle, &c., yet it is most eminent for 
 saltpetre." 
 
 He goes on — 
 
 " But why is saltpetre (common to all counties) insisted on irv 
 Northamptonshire ? Because most thereof is found in dove-houses, and 
 most dove-houses in this great corn county. Yet are not these emblems 
 of inuocency guilty in any degree of those destructions which are made 
 by that which is made thereof. All that I will add of saltpetre is this 
 I liave read in a learned writer that saltpetre men, when they have extracted 
 saltpetre out of a iloor of earth one year, within three or four years after they 
 find more generated there, and do work it over again," 
 
 St. Thomas's Hospital was founded about 1450. Adjoining 
 is the adjunct to it, founded in 1654, by Sii* John Langhara 
 Immediately north of St. Thomas's Hospital was the South Gate, 
 It had chambers over it, which were inhabited by poor people. 
 The town walls were embattled, and are said to have been broad 
 enough for six persons to walk abreast. In an inquisition, taken 
 the 6th year of Edward I., it is stated that there were steps at 
 different places within, so that the inhabitants might take the air 
 upon them, as in the record it is alleged that they were accustomed 
 to do. Whoever has been at Chester may form a fair idea of the 
 kind of promenade which the early inhabitants of Northampton 
 possessed in their defences. Invalids and old people frequented 
 them, and looked far over the surrounding country, wilder then, 
 less enclosed, with more w^ood, and more marsh, and watched the 
 :',rrival of the strings of pack-horses, and heard the jingling music
 
 313 RAMBLES EOUNDABOUT : 
 
 of tlieir bells as tliey drew nigli. In winter, according to the same 
 autliority, tliey passed by these means from one part of the town 
 to the other ; a scrap of information from which we may infer that 
 walking in the town in the days of Edward the First was not 
 particularly inviting. The streets, we may assume, were unpaved ; 
 Ihe rain shot in sheets from the roofs, or in water-spouts from the 
 fantastic gurgoyles ; and the mud and slush were equally abundant 
 and unsavoury. The Avall was of stone, and drained, and though 
 between the battlements the wind and rain came in bleak blasts, it 
 was better and drier walking than below. 
 
 At St. John's Hospital we are within the precincts of the 
 town proper : within the space, that is, that was enclosed within 
 its walls. It is a noble i-uin, and its elegant circular window, and 
 spacious inclusive arch and sub-doorway, cannot fail to attract the 
 attention of the passenger, It was founded, in 1137, by 
 "Walter, Archdeacon of Northampton, for the benefit of poor and 
 infirm persons and orphans. Bridges says of it : — 
 
 " The hospital consists of a chapel, a hall, or common room, with lodgings 
 for the poor, and two rooms over them for the co-brothers. The master hath a 
 gord house and garden. The windows and walls of the hospital are old, but it 
 liath been altered in some parts by modern reparations. The present master 
 lialh neatly fitted up the chapel, at his own expense. In the windows are some 
 imperfect coats of arms and broken figures, and in one window the centre 
 portrait of a person, mitred, with a crozier in his hand, and of another in a 
 posture of prayer. In several places of the east window, in small black letters^ 
 IS ' Honor Deo.' " 
 
 This description serves fairly Avell for its present state. The 
 chapel has a good Decorated window of three lights at the east end, 
 and at the west end a Perpendicular door, with a richly-panelled 
 door beneath. There is a cemetery in the chapel ground. The 
 master's house had long been in a pitiable state of dilapidation, 
 when it was taken down to make way for the new station 
 of the Bedford and Northampton Eailway. It was very 
 spacious ; truly a princely residence. Portions of it were as 
 early as the reign of King John. Nothing can be conceived
 
 ,^ NORTHAMPTON — BRIDGE STREET. 213 
 
 more charming than its situation must once liave been. It had 
 an enviable outlook, with the woods of Delaprc, Hardingstone, 
 and Hunsbury Hill before it. It had a noble garden, with a postern 
 gate opening into the meadow, still traceable. A drawing of it in 
 glypograph, from the very faithful and tasteful pencil of the late 
 Mr. Pretty, is to be found in Wetton's Guide to Northampton. 
 Opposite to St. John's Hospital stood the House of the Friars 
 Augustine, founded in 1322 by Sir John Longueville, of Wolverton. 
 It was surrendered to the crown in the 30th of Henry VIII. We 
 are not aware that any record e'sists of its demolition. 
 
 Between St. John's Hospital and the George corner there is 
 little to call for observation. The Corporation Charity School is 
 about as ugly a bit of nineteenth century architecture as the 
 nineteenth century has produced. The best that can be said for 
 it is that the architect (if by that name we may call him) had the 
 good sense to provide a couple of niches for the reception of tlif 
 two figures of an earlier time which belonged to some older 
 building-. Here and there some odd little old houses mav be seen 
 that have had their faces shaped from time to time as much as may 
 be to the shifting fashion of the day, but retain their original propor- 
 tions. They stand oddly between their aspiring neighbours. A 
 little public-house, with the sign of the Eagle and Child, an old 
 clothes shop, and its neighbour, with the old-fashioned half-door, 
 are the oldest in this part of the street. The Waggon and Horses, 
 ou tlie West side, belongs to the time of Charles II., and till recently 
 retained generally its original character. North of this house there 
 is nothing calling for special notice. Several of the houses are as 
 old, but have been so transformed as to be scarcely recognizable. 
 The George Hotel has some tokens in its basement of an early 
 building, as if, which is probably the case, the present structure 
 was erected upon a very old foundation. But the George Hotel 
 hardly belongs to gossip about Bridge Street, and is not to be 
 talked about when one's "yarn" is well nigh spun. 
 
 A Avide street, level and long enough to carry its perspective
 
 214 GAMBLES UOUNDABOLT. 
 
 to a point, is an imposing siglit, but more picturesque is a street 
 like Bridge Street, irregular, and with a dip at one end and a steep 
 rise at the other. It would be ditficult, perhaps, to put into 
 comparison two towns more dissimilar than Northampton and Bath ; 
 yet in one respect our town occasionally reminds us of the fsir 
 Western City. The valley of the Nene, like the valley of tli'- 
 Avon, is hollow enough for the eye to overleap the intermediate 
 space, and to rest on the opposite hills. The charm of Bath is 
 that the heights of its basin are visible from well nigh every street 
 in it. Eocks and trees terminate every view, and give it cheer- 
 fulness and beauty. One's spirit exults unconsciously in those lofty 
 outlooks of Nature as it were benignly smiling over us, " with a 
 fine unconquered wish to bless," and winning us from sordid and 
 petty thoughts and carking cares. No such wealth of scenery 
 have we in Northampton, but the Hardingstone heights give us a 
 glimpse hei'e and there of tree tops, and standing at the top of 
 Bridge Street and looking back southwards, the eye is gladdened 
 with a background of hill and grove that is, in its way, eminently 
 beautiful : — 
 
 " Towers and battlements it sees, 
 Bosora'd high in tufted trees ;" 
 
 only our " towers " are the tall chimneys of the breweries, and our 
 battlements the crested roofs of IMessrs. Phipps's new buildings. 
 A.t that distance they help the picture, and it is something that 
 they recal, too, the poetry of Milton. So Nature triumphs over 
 tlie busy thoroughfare : — 
 
 " And even where gain huddles its noisiest rout, 
 Tiie smilf^s of lier sweet wisdom wdl break through."
 
 HE dreariest month they say of all the year 
 Thou art, November. If they tell us true, 
 The Poets should invent them phrases new 
 Wherein to speak of seasons held most dear. 
 Young May or ardent June, November sere, 
 Eunneth the whole vocabulary through ; 
 Lo here are sunny days of cloudless blue 
 And lustrous nio-hts. Is Mw November "drear?' 
 
 'O' 
 
 My boyish faith comes back to me again ; 
 
 Nature has nothing " dreary ;" every moon 
 Her gladness changeth : but it doth remain 
 
 A gladness still. 'Tis we who, " out of tune," 
 Make the sweet music harsh — whose purblind eyes 
 See not the endless wealth that round us lies.
 
 i; r 1 1] a m p t n it . 
 
 The Deapery. 
 
 ff^^ we desired to impress a stranger with Northampton, we 
 would smuggle him into the town late some Friday night. 
 When he reached our railway station we should desire the 
 weather to be so " dirty," in nautical phraseology, as not 
 only to make the omnibus absolutely necessary, but to pre- 
 ys' elude the possibility of investigating the route up Bridge 
 Street. The darker the night the better. He should be late 
 enough when he had achieved that via mala, and reached the George 
 Hotel, to have no wish to explore the town that night — to desiru 
 nothing but his supper, his cigar, and his bed. We would 
 stipulate that next morning he should have his breakfast in one of 
 the front upper rooms. We should even like to go so ftir as to 
 supplicate Mrs. Higgins to allow us, for that one special occasion, 
 to occupy her own sitting room. Of course we should desire that 
 during the night our bad weather should have spent itself, and that 
 the morning should be one of the brightest and sunniest of summer. 
 When our friend entered the breakfast room, we would take him to 
 the open window, and, pointing to the vista before him, exclaim — 
 "There!" Dull must he be if he did not respond to our 
 enthusiasm. Directly beneath he would have the bright green limes 
 in the churchyard* ; beyond, on either side, lines of stalls of all 
 fashions buried in greenery and flowers. Probably he would 
 suppose that some chivalric procession was contemplated, and tliat 
 
 * The Ramble was written before the recent alteration, wMcb deprived 
 the front of the Churchyard ot its " bright green limes."
 
 f- NOETHAMPTON — THE DRAPERY. 217 
 
 he saw before liim the avenue of flowers through which it was to 
 pass. So much for tlie scene viewed from this vantage ground. 
 Nor when he descended into the street wonld the beauty of the 
 vision be lost, though it wouhl be changed to something more in 
 conformity with our ordinary work-a-day world. He would find a 
 market, but a sort of Covent Garden Market. Crossing from the 
 (ieorge to Mr. Fred. Perkins's corner, he would go up the Avest 
 side of the Drapery, with a fencing of stalls against the roadway. 
 A motley range is that line of stalls. Mr. Perkins begins at the 
 angle with a cluster of flowers of all hues, then come " sweets" 
 parti-coloured, up-piled peas, mounds of gooseberries, all fruits of 
 the season, and, above all, crowning all, intersecting all, adorning 
 all, — flowers. Plowers everywhere, of every hue and odour ; flowers 
 in all forms ; flowers in pots ; flowers in bouquets. Presently his 
 ear would be saluted with the hoarse crow of a Cochin- China fowl, 
 and looking in the direction of that \ui- Chanticleer like summons, 
 he woiUd see a miniature menagerie. Cochin-China stands atop, 
 looking as if he had got on a new pair of Dutcli inexpressibles 
 much too large for him. Sometimes his heavy proprietorship is 
 superseded by a peacock. In the compartments below are fowls 
 of all kinds, from diminutive bantams to stately Dorkings, pigeons 
 various also, pouters, carriers, doves, rabbits, ordinary and lop-eared, 
 guinea pigs, and magpies. Eecrossing the street at the top, where 
 at its eastern corner another Perkins gladdens the eye with a shop 
 full of flowers, you push your way southward again by a third 
 Perkins with more flowers, — as if Perkins was only a synonym for 
 plants — among a motley crowd of loiterers ; not idlers, but people 
 who come out to look at the stalls and be tempted, and who move 
 slowly, therefore, and stop the way as of right. Returning towards 
 the churchyard you come Tipon the fish-stalls. "Well, excepting in 
 a Dutch picture, fish stalls may not usually be regarded as 
 particularly pleasant objects. But these fish stalls of ours are 
 pleasant in their reality, and would be singularly pleasant in a 
 picture. Scarlet lobsters intervene with silvery salmon — a brilliant
 
 21S KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT; 
 
 contrast, and, above all, the green lime trees make a cool and most 
 graceful canopy. If our imaginary friend does not go away after 
 this little excursion down the Drapery strongly impressed with the 
 beauty of some at least of our Northampton streets, he is not the 
 man we meant him to be. 
 
 It has occurred to us frequently that this Northampton 
 thoroughfare of ours is as unique as it is lovely. Midland town 
 though it be, and thoroughly English, there is yet something 
 about the markets of Northampton that recall certain Continental 
 characteristics. Looking down, for example, upon the tilted stalls 
 of the Market Square, you are reminded of the markets at Eouen 
 or Treves ; walking down this Drapery you think of Amsterdam. 
 Of course the differences are enormous. No central canal runs 
 through our thoroughfare, bearing, as at Amsterdam, barge loads 
 of flowers ; no double lines of trees border the roadway ; nor is it 
 our fashion to go up a flight of steps to our door-way bordered 
 with flower-pots. But for barges we have shallow carts laden with 
 the same odorous burthen, and there is a strong disposition towards 
 window gardening in the Drapery. We jot down our impression 
 of this picture because, for aught we know to the contrary, this 
 may be the last year of its existence. When the cattle market 
 is removed, the flower and fruit and vegetable market will be 
 transferred to the Market Sqiiare. Possibly the Drapery may gain 
 by the change. Eeadier access will be had to the shops, and there 
 will be elbow-room on the foot-way, and free carriage way in the 
 road. But one cannot have advantages in this matter-of-fact world 
 of ours without paying for them. What it will gain commercially 
 it will lose aesthetically. There will be more convenience, but the 
 Satm-day glory of the Drapery will have departed. 
 
 We cannot but remember, however, that this Drapery splendour 
 is of comparatively modern growth. Forty years ago the Saturday 
 market there was very small and very brief. The vegetable market 
 was on Wednesday, and was held on the Market Square, and was 
 but an inconsiderable matter. By dusk the Drapery was well-nigh
 
 ,^ NORTHAMPTON — THE DRAPERY. 219 
 
 deserted. By broad daylight you had no crowding, and nothing 
 to crowd for. The " green-grocery " business was on a very small 
 scale, and the taste for flowers — flowers anywhere except in the 
 gardens — was undeveloped. Then there were no fish stalls. The 
 venerable adage that the Mayor of Northampton opens his oysters 
 with his dagger, to keep them as far as possible from his nose, did 
 not, indeed, then apply. But fish was a sort of special importation, 
 chiefly in the hands of the guard or the coachman of the stage 
 coaches, who brought down from London soles or salmon or 
 oysters by individual order. Nor at that time, indeed, had All 
 Saints' Churchyard the glory of its trees, which make so lovely 
 a termination to the vista. 
 
 The Drapery is a very ancient, and must always have been a 
 very important thoroughfare. It is marked in the earliest maps, 
 and is spoken of in the earliest writers. It was, indeed, the main 
 track from the South Gate to the North through the town. The 
 very name speaks its antiquity. It was acquired in those days 
 when trades were congregated together, and had localities specially 
 appointed to each, probably under the rule of Simon St. Liz, for the 
 word is of Norman origin. Formerly it was a street of many inns — 
 inns with vast yards and stabling attached, for the accommodation 
 of long strings of pack horses, and later of heavy stage waggons ; 
 later still of post horses and relays for the stage coaches. Swan 
 Yard takes its name from one of these ample inns. We may 
 picture the street before the great fire as being well-built, with 
 houses of wood, with gables in front, and projecting stories, each 
 overhanging the one below it. There was no doubt a good cloth 
 trade carried on here by substantial tradesmen, who necessarily kept 
 large stocks, for supplies were not to be had with the readiness of 
 modern times. The great fire, no * doubt, while it destroyed its 
 picturesqucness, gave it certain advantages. The street was more 
 regularly built, and the way skywards was more freely opened. 
 Then, too, the setting back All Saints' (Jhurch, which formerly 
 extended to the boundary of the churchyard, was a gain.
 
 220 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT. 
 
 Great changes have taken phice in the character of the Drapery 
 within living memory. Some of the odd little low shops, witli 
 half door-ways, still existed. Well-to-do tradesmen were content 
 to drive a comfortable trade in very small premises half a century 
 ago. Business was transacted and over at a much earlier hour 
 than in our competing days, and over the half door very respectable 
 and substantial tradesmen could enjoy their afternoon leisure with 
 the dignity of a long pipe ; content with that unpretending 
 relaxation. We have chano-ed all that. The fashion is extendin"; 
 of separating the domestic establishment from the house of 
 business, and bye-and-bye, possibly, every man, at the close of 
 the day, will lock all his cares iip in his warehouse, and go to 
 his home and his family a cheerfuUer, if not a wealthier, man for 
 the change. Coelum, non animam, mutant, it is true, and we can't 
 always get our old man of the sea off our shoulders by this 
 l)rocess, but these should be the exceptions to a rule which pro- 
 bably works, and we hope does work, beneficially upon the whole.
 
 $aefs 
 
 Dome. 
 
 Poet's home ! — a Poet's fitting home ! 
 
 Look how it lies amidst the embowering trees, 
 !l A very nest for song-birds. You might come 
 
 A hundred times in its vicinities, 
 
 Nor ever think to find such " hip of case," — 
 
 Such nursery for out-gushing minstrelsies, 
 
 "Where the green ozier unrestricted shoots, 
 
 And mossy boughs bend heavy with their fruits. 
 
 There be no trim walks here ; no greenhoiise, where 
 The poor exotic pines its life away 
 
 In sad degeneracy ; but flowers that ])ear 
 
 All weathers bravely, perk their blossoms gay 
 
 'Midst knee-deep grass, and " wilding-flowers " less rare, 
 Yet to the Poet's sense as sweet as they. 
 
 [the same subject continued.] 
 All day the air trembled with sylvan music. 
 At earliest dawn the swallow, from the eaves 
 Down darting, with a sharp, clear, ringing call ; 
 Then finches of all tribes, by merry hundreds 
 Pouring a thrilling treble like the rain 
 Of pearly beauty when a master's hand 
 With choicest art, yet with most random seeming. 
 Flies o'er tlie rapid keys. At glowing noon 
 Anothc;r strain — the cuckoo's measured note, 
 Pidl, deep, and rich — issuing IVom midst tlic bushes; 
 Tiie shrill grasshopper, too, of wlioni Anacreon 
 S5ang an immortal song.
 
 222 A poet's home. 
 
 The moon is up, 
 And we have other minstrels. Hark, t1int <j:w<]\ 
 Of sudden notes ! — the very utterance 
 Of passionate love — love passionate, yet pure 
 And pensive ; yet methinks not sorrowful, 
 Nor mirthful either, but a song which speaks 
 Of thoughtful happiness. 
 
 And so with all this flood of melody 
 
 Circling our senses, we retire to sleep. 
 
 To dream of golden groves of singing birds. 
 
 As told in dazzling tales of Araby, 
 
 And be again awakened by the swallow.
 
 lU 
 
 The Mayorhold and Horsemaeket. 
 
 tMONG the documents belonging to the Corporation of 
 Northampton is one relating to the paving of various 
 streets of the town, in the 9th year of the reign 
 )<jA5v of Henry VI — 1431. It directs that the highways 
 ^^m¥^ of the town, from the north gate to the bridge 
 '^ called Saint Thomas Brigge in the south, and the way 
 from the west gate to the east gate, and also the streets called 
 Berewardstrete, Seynt Gylestrete, Swynvvelstrete, Kyngeswellstrete, 
 Seint Martynstrete, Seint Marystrete, and the way called the 
 Market Place — " et la chemyn appelle le market place" — shall be 
 paved by the owners of messuages or tenements abutting upon 
 these several ways, 80 feet from their frontage. Where SwynAvell 
 Street and Saint ]\Iartyn Street were there is, so far as we know, no 
 record. There were also in 1275 streets called Salt Street, and 
 Krakeboll Street, all traces of the localities of which, has long been 
 lost. The Market Place, however, was not the present Market 
 Square, as may be readily gathered from the description '*' la 
 chemyn," the Norman-French for highway or thoroughfare, which 
 is not a characteristic of the Market Square. We know, in fact, 
 that the market was held in the Mayorhold prior to 1535, when the 
 Market Square was paved for the purpose, and a market cross 
 erected there. The term Mayorhold is, indeed, supposed to be 
 synonymous witli Markethold. In Speed's map (IGIO) it is called 
 " Marhold." It is easy to understand how Markethold may have 
 become corrupted into Mayorhold when the market had ceased to
 
 224 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 be lield there, and the prefix was no Ioniser supported by the fact. 
 There is a tradition, how for to be accepted we do not know, that 
 the Mayor of Northampton once lived on the west side of the 
 Mayorhold, where a low down-hill gateway leads to an open space, 
 now occupied by some sufficiently squalid buildings. The supposed 
 fact may have grown out of the corrupted name, or the name may 
 really record a fact. It is far from improbable that a house of 
 sufficient quality for the residence of the chief magistrate of the 
 town may have stood there. In remote times the site must have 
 been a very pleasant one ; in front a wide open space ; behind, 
 gardens and fields and a far-stretching country prospect. At the 
 present day the Mayorhold seems to be inconvenient for a market ; 
 but, if we may trust the proportions of Speed's map, it was not so 
 before the great fire. The south gate crossed Bridge Street at the 
 boundary of the town wall, by St. Thomas's Hospital. Apparently 
 the way into Kingswell Street was far more open and direct than 
 at present. Of the two ways Bridge Street is the narrowest. A 
 broad and very direct Avay continued to Gold Street, crossing whicli 
 iuto College Lane a still goodly way led to Silver Street, and so 
 siveeping by an easy ciu've into the Mayorhold. Whether these 
 streets Avere really as wide as they appear in Speed we cannot 
 pretend to determine. It is quite possible, however, that they may 
 have been naiTOwed after the fire. Silver Street had houses only on 
 one side. Whether there was ever a beast market in the Mayorhold 
 we do not know. If there were, it is probable that it had become 
 decayed. Beast, at all events, were not brought to the market in 
 the latter part of the last century. We learn from evidence in the 
 famous Toll-cause that Mr. Nunneley, of Market Harborough, was 
 the first who established the beast market, somewhere about 1805. 
 Till that time beast were brought to fairs only. Markets for cattle 
 were a consequence of better roads and improved facilities of inter- 
 communication generally. Neither do sheep appear to have ever 
 been sold in the general market. In Speed's map the sheep market 
 is placed in Sheep Street, to which it of course gave its name. Our
 
 JTO-RTHAMPTON— THE MAYORHOLD AND HORSEMAEKET. 223 
 
 general markets, indeed, up to a comparatively recent date, 
 resembled the Continental markets rather than our own markets at 
 the present day. Markets for the sale of animals were specially so 
 named according to the kind brought to them. Over four hundred 
 years ago, therefore, the Mayorhold was bordered by buildings ; tlie 
 outline, perhaps, resembling the present. Broad Lane was probably 
 a lane then. Sawpit Lane may also have existed in some form, 
 bordering the lands of the Priory of St. Andrew. Sawpit Lane, 
 however, is a comparatively modern name. In Jeifery's ni;i|) 
 (1746) it is called St. Andrew's Street, though there were but few 
 houses in it. On the west side there were fields all the way. i t 
 was the ancient way to the Priory of St. Andrew's. Horsemai'ki t 
 was part of the " chemyn " into Gold Street, as it is now, and 
 was no doubt partly built. But on the west side there was the 
 house of the Black Friars, or Priars Preachers, who were settlctl 
 there before 1249. Tlie founder was supposed to be one Jolm 
 Dabyngton. The revenues of the house were rated in 153.5 at 
 £5 lis. 6d,, the relative amount of which may be estimated by a 
 comparison with other houses of Friars in the town at the same 
 period. The Grey Friars had £6 17s. 4d. ; the White Priars were 
 valued at £10 10s. There were customary deductions from all 
 these; — the Black Friars paid 3s. 4d. to the Abbot of St. James, 
 and fourpeiice to the Mayor and Bailiffs of the town. Li 153S) it 
 was given up to the Crown by William Dyckyns, the Prior, and 
 seven other Priars. Li 1545 the site of it was granted to William 
 liamesden; it was afterwards possessed by Eobert Burgoyne, V.^([., 
 and in 1586 it was in the possession of Francis Samwell, F]s(|., 
 who died in that year, when it passed to his eldest son William. 
 After this we have no record of it, though its history may possibly 
 be traced in title-deeds and muniments to which we have no access. 
 After the dissolution of the Fraternity of Friars Preachers, 
 it seems probable that the house Avas demolished. In the 
 llorsemarket, a short distance soutli of the Mayorhold, is a 
 iieerhonse, rejoicing in the name of "The Jolly Bricklayers." The
 
 2:26 KAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 iicighbourliood has a penchant for the jovial adjective. Not far off 
 is " The Jolly Smokers." The front of " The Jolly Bricklayers " 
 wears a clean new face, but it is obvious enough that it is not a 
 house of the present generation nor of many a past one. Its 
 present aspect, however, would lead nobody to suppose that in its 
 rear is a house which was, there can be little doubt, erected 
 immediately after the demolition of the religious house. There 
 is no external evidence of an ecclesiastical building. It is a 
 mansion house of the time of Henry VIII. — such as one might 
 expect woidd be erected by Wm. Eamesden or Eobert Burgoyue. 
 Originally it may have consisted of a long building with three 
 projecting gables. One only of these projections remains, and 
 an altered portion of another. The interval was lighted by long 
 mullioned windows, the upper one of which is traceable. The 
 projecting gables were similarly lighted ; the lower one has 
 suffered from the many changes and adaptations which the 
 building has undergone; but the upper one is still a window 
 with its four stone mullions perfect and its diamond panes. The 
 eastern projection has lost its gable ; it imderwent great alterations 
 at various remote periods, and the roof is finished with a hip. 
 The interior has been so changed and divided and sub-divided as 
 10 leave none of its original stateliness. But one may recal what 
 it once was. Thsre are the remains of a fire-place under a 
 depressed arch, with sixteenth century mouldings, in the room on 
 the upper floor. The room was of goodly size, lighted from its 
 ample windows in the gable. None of the panelling remains on 
 the walls, but some fragments of it are in another part of the 
 house — the good square oak panelling of the days of the 8th 
 Henry. The window faces due north, but there were probably 
 windows also looking east and west. It probably had a return to 
 the north, giving on the Horsemarket on the east. Eveiywhere 
 the building speaks of its varied fortunes, and they have been 
 sufficiently severe. Its surroundings partake of its evil days. 
 But one sees through them what it once was. Such a house had
 
 J^RTHAMPTON — THE MAYORHOLD AND HORSEMARKET. 22? 
 
 assuredly its fitting gardens, and as assuredly there was pleasant 
 open country before it and to the west of it. In the place of tall 
 chimneys and racks of timber-plauks, and huddled buildings, an.l 
 squalid walls and pig-sties, there were tall trees and pleached alleys, 
 and glowing flower-beds. It is difficult to guess what was to the 
 south. There were probably other buildings in the Horsemarket, 
 Avhich would have obstructed the view that way. In summer the 
 mid-day sun was not needed, and the evening was welcome and 
 glorious. At this season the solid walls and the stout panelling 
 would keep out " the winter's flaw," and within, the huge logs on 
 the andirons in the spacious fire place would send a ruddy glow 
 through the Christmas room. Many a silver tankard must have 
 reflected it, many a jovial, many a lovely face must have been glad 
 in its brightness ; many a hearty laugh the now sombre walls must 
 have re-echoed. How delightful it would be if one could retrace 
 a few centuries, and drop into one of these gatherings of the old 
 old time, even as a fly on the wall or any other unnoticed entity, 
 instead of going there in these vague imaginings.
 
 HE was a liauglity creature, 
 With an eye as black as jet ; 
 But laerlip was the loveliest ruby 
 That ever I gazed on yet. 
 She looked supremest scorn on uie^ 
 
 You need not ask me why ; 
 
 She was lady of half a kingdom, 
 
 And a homeless wanderer 1. 
 
 It was the glad Midsummer — 
 
 'Twas a night of choicest mirth ; 
 There were bright stars in the heavens — • 
 
 There were brighter eyes on earth : 
 We danced on the greensward, che(|u*'re(i 
 
 With moonlight through the leaves — ■ 
 Oh, readily in such moments 
 
 Wild dreams the heart conceives. 
 
 She was a haughty beauty ; 
 
 And on the morrow morn 
 Her gentle smile had vanished, 
 
 And her lip was curled with scorn. 
 The dazzling memory she left 
 
 Hath no half-hoping sigh ; 
 She is lady of half a kingdom, 
 
 And a homeless wanderer I .
 
 ilortljampton; 
 
 St. Thomas's Hospital. 
 
 jLD Nortliampton is crumbling away. New interests, new- 
 exigencies, day after day push down the old glories and 
 the old characteristics, and lay the axe to the root of the 
 evidences of our local history. In a short time one 
 of the relics of the institutions of our forefathers 
 will have fallen before modern wants and modern 
 love of change. The Corporation, under the provisions of the 
 Markets and Fairs Act, will take possession of the old St. Thomas's 
 Hospital, in Bridge-street, in order to make an opening in con- 
 nexion with Weston- street to the west end of the town. Thirty- 
 seven years ago the inmates of the Hospital were trausferretl 
 to a new building at the east end of St. Giles's-street, and the old 
 structure is occupied by Mr. Cooper, the cab proprietor. It is a 
 ruin, but not without some points of interest, which it is as 
 well to record before it is entirely sv^ept away. Exteriorly the 
 front in Biidge-strcet presents, with one or two exceptions, the 
 ordinary features of an old house which has suffered many changes. 
 The roof slopes backward, and is surmounted by the point of a 
 gable, in which, if our memory does not deceive us, there Avas once 
 a small bell cot. Over the first story is a row of sixteen blank 
 shields in as many quatrcfoil panels, and a spacious gateway cuts into 
 the lower half of tiic front. Within this gateway, on the righl-haud 
 wall, arc several recesses. The first is a square-lieaded aumbry or
 
 230 RAMBLES KOUNDABOUT ; 
 
 cupboard, divided in the middle by an oaken shelf; the second a 
 similar cupboard, also divided in the middle by an oaken shelf ; a 
 smaller square recess is immediately undemeatb it, the purpose of 
 which is not very obvious ; the third is a large and "wide recess, 
 under a disfigured arch ; the fourth is an upiight round-headed 
 opening which has sensed for a window, the lower half having been 
 closed as if for a seat in the recess ; the fifth is simply an upright 
 recess with a square head ; the sixth a small square recess ; the 
 seventh is an upright recess, v/ith an arch in the inside, perhaps for 
 a window-head ; the eighth a large square recess ; the ninth an 
 upright square opening, divided by a shelf similarly to number one. 
 All these are beneath a not very lofty flooring, the old oak beams of 
 which are canied on the south side by huge corbels of various 
 grotesque characters. They are all much knocked about, and 
 choked with whitewash. Beyond this portion of the building, 
 which constituted the residence of the alms-women, was a small 
 chapel, which was not divided by an upper story, as in the case of 
 the portion we have been describing, but was open to the roof. 
 Some remains of old woodwork at the east end of this upper story 
 would seem to indicate that there had been at one time something 
 of a screen there, so that inmates who were sick or too infirm to 
 descend into the chapel might witness the services from above. 
 The chapel was lighted by a lofty Perpendicular east window of four 
 lights with cinquefoil heads, and above them eight lesser lights with 
 trefod heads, the whole under a very depressed arch, with a simple 
 moulding terminating in blocks as if for carving which had never 
 been executed. This window is in a very perfect condition, and, 
 with the gable, is an agreeable object from the meadow walk. Half 
 a centuiy ago it had much of its original stained glass remaining. 
 The chapel was also lighted by a Avindow in the upper part of the 
 south wall, by a three-light Pei-pendicular window, with cinquefoil 
 heads, which, with its mullions, remain complete, but has its lights 
 ^topped up. In the wall beneath, but a little further eastward, is 
 au ogee-headed arch, covering, no cLoubt, a piscina.
 
 " NORTIIAMPTOX — ST. TUOMAs's UOSPITAL. 231 
 
 Such is the present aspect of the Hospital, which was founded 
 about 1450. The earliest benefaction we find given to it, says 
 Bridges, is by William Green, who by a deed which is among the 
 archives of the Corporation, dated 9th May, 1460, settled upon 
 the keepers, brothers, and sisters of the fraternity of S. Thomas, 
 and their successors for ever, a tenement, in Gold Street, for the 
 perpetual relief of the poor in the said Hospital. 
 
 " William Rowland, by deed bearing date 13th March, 1511, gave to the 
 poor in St. Thomas's house, a close, in West Cotton, for ever. In 159.:^ 
 Edward Elraor settled upon the Mayor, baiJiifs, and burgesses, three messuages 
 in Abington-street, and one messuage in Gold-street, to provide for one poor 
 householder and for the relief of the other poor in this Hospital. In 1599 
 Thomas Croswell and Roger Higham, pursuant to the iuteution of Thomas 
 Wastell, gave one tenement iu Sheep Street, and John Uryon, in 1G30, five 
 acres of meadow in Cotton Marsh, towards the support of the poor iu the said 
 house. Mr. Edward Collis gave also by will two tenements in Newlaud for the 
 relief of the poor in St. Thomas's Hospital for ever. By the original founda- 
 tion, twelve poor persons were maiutaiaed here at an allowance of Is. lid. 
 weekly each with clothing, firing, and washing. Iu 1654 Sir John Langhani 
 added six others, with an appointment of 20 pence per week. For this purpose 
 he settled £36 per annum, which is paid by the Corporation ; and for which 
 the Cow Meadow, Balmshole, and Midsummer Meadow are security. One 
 other poor woman hath lately been added by the charity of Richard Massing- 
 berd." 
 
 So far Bridges. We are not writing the history of the 
 charity, but simply some notes concerning the house in which it 
 was for nearly four centuries located. Now, as everybody knows, 
 its funds are administered by trustees. St. Thomas's Hospital was 
 just without tlie South Gate, by St. Thomas's Bridge, which gave 
 its name to Bridge Street. " The stream," says the late Mr. 
 I'retty in Wetton's Northampton Guide, " which ran in front of 
 the town wall, passed under the Chapel into tlie Cow Meadow, 
 At many of the crossings of streams we tind places dedicated to 
 the memory of St. Thomas a Becket." The stream was traceable 
 within living memory. The South-gate was a short distance to 
 the north, in a direct liuc — that is with the town-wall which still
 
 2'.i:i RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 borders tlie St. John's Hospital Gardens. In those early days the 
 Hospital liad open country both in front and to the rear. Not 
 many years after the establishment of the pious foundation, its 
 aii-ed inmates must have witnessed from its walls the great battle 
 which took place in July, 1460, between the Confederate Earls and 
 Henry the Sixth. 
 
 "The King," says Stowe, "lying at tlie White Friers, Northamplon, 
 ordaineJ a strong and mighty field in the meadows beside the Nunry having 
 the river at his back. * * The tenth day of Jnly, at two of the clock 
 afternoone, the Earles March and Warwicke let erie through the field that no 
 man should lay hand upon the King ne on the common people, but on the Lords 
 Knights and Esquires ; then both hosts incountred and fought halfe an houre, 
 the Lord Edniuud Giey of Rathen that was the King's vaward, brake the field 
 and came to the Earles party, and was a great helpe to them in obtaining the 
 victory ; many on the Kings side were skin, and many that fled were drowned 
 iu the river, the Duke of Buckingham, the Earle of Shrewsbury, the Lord 
 Beaumont, and the Lord Egremont were slaine by the King's tent with many 
 knights and esquires, the Kings ordinance of guns might not be shot, there 
 was so great raiue that day. When the field was done and the Earls had the 
 victory, they came to the King he being in his tent, and said in this wise : 
 Most noble prince, displease you not though it have pleased God of his grace to 
 grant us the victory of our mortall enemies, the which by their venemous 
 malice have untruly stirred and mooved your highness to exile ns out of your 
 l.-iud, and would have us put to finall shame and confusion, we come not for tiie 
 intent to unquiet ne grieve your said highnesse but for to please your noble 
 person, desiring tenderly the high welfare and prosperity thereof, and of all 
 your realme, and to be your true liegemen while our lives shall endure. The 
 King with these words was greatly comforted, and anon was led to North- 
 ampton, with procession, where he rested three dales." 
 
 Tiie army going to battle in all its defiant array probably 
 passed from the White Friars through the South Gate, and by the 
 then new Hospital of St. Ihomas. A few hours after the defeated 
 King returned a prisoner, though reverenced still as a King. AVe 
 realize such things with difficulty. East or west, north or soutli, 
 the outlook is not so fair as it was in those days. Crowded 
 buildings choke the landscape; the traffic is of drays and waggons
 
 NORTHAMPTON— ST. THOMAS S HOSPITAL. 
 
 2:3:3 
 
 and carts, the busy vehicles of prosperous trade, prosaic enough, 
 but indicative of comfortable homes, and well-to-do citizens. 'Tis 
 ix'tter as it is. There is, unhappily, a parallel to the old spectacle 
 in many a provincial city on the Continent. We do not desire it 
 to come nearer to us. 
 
 \/^ 
 
 
 

 
 "The same jjleasant prospect still shiiicth bcfdre nu — 
 'lit river— the mouuta'n— the valley of green ' — 
 
 Bariu' Corxw.u.1.. 
 
 E will dwell beneath the old oak treo, 
 
 In onr childhood's bappy home ; 
 And beyond its village boundary 
 We never again will roam. 
 We have bitterly repented 
 Our heresy gone by ; 
 
 And we dream no more that pride or wealtli 
 Can aifection's place supply. 
 
 We shall see again our youthful haunts, 
 
 And wander as of yore, 
 Down the verdant hill's enamelled side — 
 
 By the river's willowy shore ; 
 And the sun shall shine again for us, 
 
 As it long has ceased to shine ; 
 And fairy visions once again 
 
 Shall haunt the day's decline. 
 
 Oh dreams of youth ! — there only, whore 
 
 Ye had first your glorious birtli, 
 Will ye ever rise to gild the dull 
 
 Eealities of eartli.
 
 THE ILVVEN. 
 
 We may dwell 'midst scenes more splendivl, 
 
 We may find a wealtliier lot, 
 But tlie blissful phantasies of life 
 
 Haunt but one only spot. 
 
 lu the placid light of a summer's ni-^ht 
 
 Together Ave will sit, 
 Breathing the jasmine's fragrancy 
 
 As the wind sighs over it ; 
 And the songs and strains we used to love 
 
 We will once again awake ; 
 And dearer than ever will they be 
 
 Por hallowed memory's sake .
 
 Ilortljamptoit ;t |junbrcb ginvrs aga. 
 
 MONG the curiosities brought together in the Northampton 
 Museum, when it was opened in August, 1866, was a 
 plan of Northampton at the gi'eat Election of 1768, 
 when Sir George Osbora and Sir G. B. Eodney, and 
 the Hon. Thomas Howe were the candidates. It is the 
 property of Thomas Scriven, Esq. It is on twenty- 
 eight sheets of foolscap paper, beginning with a general plan of 
 the town, and following with sections, in which every house is 
 marked with the name of the occupant. The first section gives 
 Abingtoa Street, from the fork where the Wellingborough and 
 Kettering Roads meet, westward to the Market Square. We 
 cannot, in all cases, identify the houses with the existing buildings 
 because there have been, of course, innumerable alterations and 
 c'.iauges since that day, two or three houses, in some cases, having 
 baen converted into one, and as often one into two or three. But 
 of some we cau speak with certainty. There was then, as now, a 
 house at the intersection of the Wellingborough and Kettering 
 roads, which was occupied by Tim. Penn. There Avere no 
 tenements along the Kettering road, and two only a little way up 
 the Wellingborough Eoad on the left hand, which were occupied 
 by Thomas Thompson and Thomas Pennocks. The Bantam 
 Cock was occupied by one Edward NichoUs. Whether it was an 
 inn then does not appear in the plaa. The last house on the 
 north side of Abington Street was the residence of Thomas
 
 " XORTHAMPTON A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 237 
 
 Caldicutt, Esq. It is difficult to identify it with any existiu<i; 
 house. Was it Mr. Marlvham's ? And did the garden house at 
 the corner, formerly in Dr. Kerr's garden, belong to it ? The 
 character of the intermediate buildings do not negative the 
 supposition, but the grounds about the house must, in that casi% 
 have been very extensive. A hundred years ago the ditch round 
 the town still existed, and the garden-house looked uninterruptedly 
 over a wide 'extent of beautiful country — the woods of Delapn', 
 and the meadows all the way to Houghton, with the Nene, an 
 unpolluted stream, winding through them. Wood Street, in 17G8, 
 was called Cock lane, though the Inn at the corner, from which it 
 took that name, no longer existed. Between Mr. Caldicutt's house 
 and Cock Lane were fifteen houses, and the eighth from Cock Lane 
 was the residence of Purbeck Langham, Esq., and ihe ninth of Wm. 
 Gates. Mr. Langham's was probably the houses now occupied by 
 Mr. Evans and Mr. Hall, which were originally a single structure. 
 The house at its western corner, recently occupied by Dr. Faircloth, 
 then belonged to Major Cunningham. Two houses farther west- 
 ward, and there was a yard, at the extremity of which lived one 
 Wm. Dunkley. Three more houses westward and we come to an 
 entrance described as " The Peacock back gate." Four houses 
 still further westward and another entrance occurs — " The Chequer 
 back gate." Two other houses westward, and the house next the 
 corner is set down as " The Chequer Inn." Part of this inn, 
 probably, still remains at the rear of the house, at the corner of the 
 Market Square, to which it appears to have been subsequently 
 attached. The "Stag's Head" was the "Stag's Head" then 
 also, and was occupied by one James Sutton. The plan does not 
 mention the Stag's Head, but only the name of its occupant, who, 
 we find, by a reference to the Mercury of the period, lived at " The 
 Stag's Head," and was a maker of bandages for surgical purposes. 
 The union of surgical instrument maker and iimkeeper seems an 
 odd one in these days ; but it is possible that Mr. Sutton lived at 
 the sign of the Stag's Head merely, the house not being an inn.
 
 ;23S RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 Trades of all sorts liad signs in those days. Crossing over to tlie 
 south side of the street, and going eastward, we Sad ihe site of the 
 })resent Saracen's Head appropriated to " Wm. Dorrell." It was 
 the Saracen's Head Inn then, and included the entire space from 
 t'le Town Hall to the turning into Dychurch Lane, as indeed, it 
 did within our own memory. The west corner of Fish Lane — T\Ir. 
 Hewitt's House — was the residence of Mrs. Isted. One Thomas 
 Kigby occupied the opposite corner, now Mr. Dunkley's shop ; next 
 (bor to lligby lived Robert Bilson, and then came a house occupied 
 by Charlwood Lawton, Esq. We cannot identify with certainty 
 anv of the intermediate houses. The last house before St. Giles's 
 Church Lane was occupied by one Wm. Cartwright. The fine old 
 house now occupied by Mr. Kingston was then the residence of" 
 " Doctor Blencowe." 
 
 Going down St. Giles's Church Lane into St. Gileses Street 
 we find that Thos. Samwell occupied the house at the corner of the 
 " Way to Dearn Gate," on the south side of the street — the house 
 now occupied by the Eev. W. H. Eobson. Three Iwuses west- 
 \VAi"d, and then came the County Closes as now. The west corner, 
 now encambered by the huge factory of Messrs. Homan, is marked 
 " Mr. Clift's shop," Geo. Clift having a residence adjoining. O.i 
 tlie northern side opposite the " Closes " lived " Henry Mark- 
 him ;" next to him westward " Wm. Gibson," and then came the 
 Garden Wall as now attached to Mr. Gates's house. " The 
 I'layhouse " occupied the site of the new houses facing CastUiaii 
 Street. It had been a malting, we believe, and had then newly 
 been adapted to the purposes of the children of Thespis. In the 
 Mercury of this year there is the following announcement of a 
 performance there : — 
 
 " At the New Theatrs, in St. Gyles's Street, Xorthampton, on Monday, 
 the 23rd of May instant, will be presented a Comedy, call'd 
 
 The Stratagem 
 
 Archer by Mr. M. Durravan ; Aimwell by Mr. Carrol, Sullen by Mr. J. 
 i^uiTavan,, Sir Charles Freeman by ]\Ir. Jacobs^ Foigard by Mr, Jones» Gibbet
 
 '■' NORTHAMPTON A HUNDRED YEARS AGO, 233 
 
 by Mr. Clifton, Bonniface by Mw llardwicke, Ilounslovv by ]\Ir. Berry, Bagshot 
 
 by Mr. Norris. And Scrub by 3Ir. Benson Mrs. Sullen by Mrs. Roberts, 
 
 IJoiiuJa by Miss Rooerts, Cherry by Miss Ilopton, Lady Bouutiful by Mrs. 
 Orimes, Gipsey by Mrs. Bakewell. 
 
 Eud of Act the 1st, A Song by Mr. Clifton. 
 
 End of Act the 2nd, A Song by Miss Hoptoa. 
 
 End of Act the 3rd, A Song, in character of Diana, by Mrs. Jacobs. 
 
 End of Act the 4th, A Dance by Mr. Benson and Miss Hoptou. 
 
 To which will he added a Musical Entertainment 
 
 (Never Perfokm'd Here) call'd, 
 
 The Chaplet. 
 
 Da nou by Mr. Carrol, Palemon by Mr. Clifton, Shepiierds by Mr. Hardwicke, 
 Mr. Durravan, Mr. Benson, Mr. Norris, &c. — Laura by Miss Hopton, Pastora 
 by -Miss Roberts. 
 
 The Doors to be open'd at Half past Five, and to begin exactly at Half 
 
 past Six Boxes 3s Pit 2s Gallery Is. Tickets to be had of Mr. Lacy and 
 
 Mrs. Pasham, Booksellers, and at Mr. Dyer's House on the IMarket-Placu. 
 I'l ices for the Boxes to be taken of Mr. Norris opposite the Theatre. — The 
 
 liiusewillbe lighted in the Manner of the London-Theatres. No Person 
 
 can be admitted behind the scenes. 
 
 (^g° The Days of Playing are Mondays, "Wednesdays, and Fridays." 
 
 Among other plays performed liere we find Kane O'Hara's. 
 admirable " Burletta of Midas," which we are told had run fifty 
 nights ill London; Fielding's "Virgin Unmasked," " The^ 
 Constant Couple," "The Beggar's Opera," and "The TempesL 
 or the Enchanted Island," among the attractions of which are 
 enumerated, " two entire new Sets of Scenes, proper to the play ;, 
 with all the Music, both A'^ocal and Instrumental ; Scenes, 
 .Machines, Sinkings, Flying, and other necessary decorations ; the 
 Ship, Sea, and Artificial Shower of Hail and Fire ; and all other 
 incidents proper to tlie Tempest Scene. The Play to conclude 
 with a beautiful View of a (]alm Sea, on which appear Neptune 
 and Amphitrite on a Chariot drawn by Sea Horses," &c., &c. 
 
 Coming into St. Giles's Square, we find on the north side 
 (going westwaa'd) five houses, occupied by Aldenuiiu. Plackett, th«
 
 2-iO RAMBLES ROUXDABOUT: 
 
 llev. Mr. Graham, Mr, Litchfield, Mr. Kerr, Silvester Ager, and 
 Johu Swindell. Mr. Litchfield and Mr. Kerr were surgeons. On 
 the opposite side was " the Sessions House," the County Hall as 
 we now call it ; next to it, eastward, the house now occupied as 
 the Judges' lodgings, was the residence of Robt. Clavering, Esc|. ; 
 then came Timothy Rogers, in the space now filled by Mr. Bayly. 
 The Honble. Mr. Hamilton and Wni. Henry Markham appear to 
 have resided in houses which have been removed to make way for 
 the new street leading to the Northampton and Bedford Railway 
 Station. In the fork dividing St. Giles's Street and Dearn Gate, 
 vvdiere the Savings Bank now stands, was a house occupied l)y 
 .James Woolston, an attorney and steward to the Earl of North- 
 ampton. 
 
 In Dearn Gate, the Swan was kept by Thomas Norcutt, and 
 beyond Cow Lane there w^as but a solitary house, occupied by 
 •Thos. Smith. A yard ran down by the side of Smith's house, 
 and there was a small tenement at the bottom. On the north 
 side there were four houses from the corner, and a yard, at the 
 bottom of which also there was a tenement. Then came gardens, 
 and one isolated dwelling belonging to Henry Cox, who is 
 gibbeted as "not polled," — for what reason the record does not say — 
 whether he held aloof from the fray indignant, like Achilles, at some 
 supposed wrong from his party, or whether he wanted more than 
 the current value of his vote and overstood his market. The 
 ground now occupied as garden ground is called " The Field." St. 
 'I'homas's Well was of course there. A windmill, close to Vio-o, 
 was then in full sail, and near it lived one " Messenger Ball" 
 With these exceptions, it was country everywhere. 
 
 Returning westward to the Sessions House — All Saints' Church 
 was surrounded by a wall — as indeed it was within our own re- 
 collection — instead of an iron palisading. At its north-east corner, 
 facing Mercers' Row, were two tenements occupied by John Potter 
 and Sam Swinfen. In Mercers' Row there was another " nf>t 
 polled" man — one Hunt. Drum Lane is written down as Drury
 
 NORTUAMPTON A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 241 
 
 Lane. In George Eow, between the Sessions House and the 
 present Telegraph Office, lived Philip Warwick. The Telegraph 
 Office was then the County Hospital. The " George " is not so 
 mentioned. Its apparent site is marked " John Page," who was 
 probably the landlord. It was the St. George Inn a century 
 earlier, when Cosmo the Third, Grand Duke of Tuscany, visited 
 Northampton. Count Magalotti, who chronicled his Highness's 
 travels, describes it as situated near the l)clfry of the principal 
 church, and the bells being rung to welcome him, the ringing 
 continued the greater part of the night, keeping him miserably 
 awake. At the election in 170 8 " The George " was Lord Silencer's 
 house. 
 
 On the east side of the Drapery occurs the name of one John 
 AVyatt. On reference to the Mercury we find that John Wyatt 
 was a staymaker, who made, as his advertisement stated, "All 
 sorts of woman's and children's stays in the best and newest 
 fashion, viz., — Turn'd stays, half bon'd stays, French stays, pack- 
 thread stays, jumps, slips, robes, &c." " Children's packthread 
 and boned stays ready made." A Benjamin West occupied 
 the Drapery front of the premises now occn]jied by Mr. 
 Osborn, and the house on the opposite side of the " Passage 
 into Market-hi 1 " was inhabited by John Agutter. At the Post 
 Office, in the Drapery, lived Jno. Lacy, a bookseller. On the west 
 side we find William Marshall, a druggst, who advertizes in the 
 Mercury inter alia, " Some curious Hissoon Tea, very little inferior 
 in quality to the finest Hyson, at 12s. per pound," a price to make 
 nioclcrii tea drinkers stand aghast. In " Drury," or Drum lane, 
 there was a butcher's sho]) then as now, and the White Hart had a 
 back way into the Lane as it has at this day. 
 
 In the j\Iarket Square, on the south side, there were five houses 
 between Drury Lane and the passage leading into Mercers' Eow. 
 Mr. Becke's offices were then occu]iied by Wm. Woolstone ; the 
 present Stamp Office is named as the residence of Richard Woolley, 
 whicli, however, is apparently a mistake, for Edward. Ei/hard
 
 242 EAMBLES ROUNDABOUT : 
 
 lived on the west side of tiie Square. " Edward Woolley and Co." 
 were braziers, who also sold " exceeding fine broad and Dutch 
 white clover, trefoil, and rye grass seeds," and " fine-cured and dry 
 Derbyshire bacon." Mr. Tomalin's office was then occupied by 
 Mr. Hutt, and the two houses now one, constituting Mr. Smith's 
 establishment were occupied by Brown and (at the corner) Williamson 
 and Staples, one house, as a memorandum on the plan says. The 
 space between the eastern corner of the passage into Mercers' Bow 
 and the corner, now all absorbed by the Waterloo House, was then 
 sufficient for three houses, in the occupation of Vores, Clarke, and, 
 at the corner, Medbury. Five and thirty years ago this was a 
 public-house — " The Cook's Arms." Whether or not it was a 
 public-house in Mr. Medbury's time we do not know. Crossing 
 over to the corner of Abington Street the fine old house for very 
 many years the shop of the good old thorough-going Tory 
 magistrate, Mr. Mai-shall — " Justice John " as he was popularly 
 called — as full of political fervour as an egg is full of meat, yet 
 kind-hearted notwithstanding, shrewd, sensible, and brimming with 
 humour — was a grocer's shop then. Here lived Eobeit Crabb, a 
 grocer. The Peacock was kept by a Mr. Mills. Mrs. Bamford lived 
 in the house now occupied by Dr. Webster, Mrs. Backwell in that 
 where Mr. Terry lives, and Mr. Cardwell's fine old Elizabethan 
 house was a boai'ding school. At the corner of the Parade and 
 Newland lived the Kev. Mr. Watts, the space now covered by the 
 premises of Messrs. Mobbs, Saow, and Wood, and Mr. Hall, was 
 occupied by two houses, in which dwelt, in 1768, Joshua Snowden 
 and Mrs. Duke. The Mercury Office Avas where the Mercury Office 
 now is. It is the single instance all round the Market Square of a 
 property remaining in the same family, and having the same 
 occupation. A Mr. Wliitton lived in Mr. Abel's house ; a Mr. 
 Wainwright where Mr. Johnson resides, and where Mr. Higgins 
 now lives resided Mr. Breton, who Avas the Mayor in this stirring 
 year. The ground now occupied by the Bank and Corn Exchange 
 was covered by three houses and the Hind Yard. Nest to the
 
 NORTHAMPTON A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 243 
 
 Mayor, westward, lived a person named Hill ; next to him a 
 confectioner named Thomas Summerfield ; then came the yard, and 
 then the Hind Inn, occupied by one York. Mr. Jeffs' house was 
 occupied by a person named Paine ; Mr. Barry's was in the 
 occupation of John Pinkard ; and at the corner of Sheep Street 
 and the Parade lived Henry Locock, an ancestor of the eminent 
 living physician, honoured by Royalty itself. On the west side 
 of the Market Square the occupant of every house is traceable. 
 Victoria House was occupied by one EUstone. Worthy Mr. 
 Swallow, "mine host," of "The Trooper," was preceded in 
 1768, by one Widow Barker; Mr. Warr's " Lamp depot" was 
 occupied by a person named Chamberlin — in what line we do not 
 know; a Eichard Woolley had the next house, and John Taylor 
 Mr. Bastick's ; Edward Revell had the Queen's Arms Inn— not the 
 Queen's Arms Inn then— in living memory it was the Windmill, 
 and owed its present name to the accession of our gracious Queen. 
 Mr. Moore's house was occupied by Sam. Easton ; Mr. Bew's by 
 Matt. Tanner; Mr. Emerton's by Thos. Cook; Mr. Rodbard's by 
 Jolm Revell ; Mr. Douglas's by Thos. Percival ; Mr. Bass's by 
 Michael Dyer; Mr. Lay's by one Satchell ; and Mr. Osborn's by 
 Mrs. Greenaway. In Sheep Street, the site of Mr. Buxton's 
 house was occupied by four small houses, which faced a garden 
 wall opposite where Mrs. Horsey's house now stands. South of 
 these four tenements lived Mrs. Thursby. Jeremiah Rudsdell, a 
 8urgeon of eminence, occupied the house at the north corner of the 
 Hind yard, where Mrs. Savage now lives. College Street Chapel 
 in those days appears to have stood in the rear of a large house, 
 belonging to a Mrs. Richards. The access to it was by a passage, 
 called " Meeting House yard." "The Rev. Mr. Ryland," who 
 was then minister of the chapel, lived at the south corner of 
 St. Mary's Street, in the Horscmarket. Mr. Rylaiul had then just 
 published " Neatly printed in one Volume, Duodecimo, price, 
 bound, 2s. 6d. — ' An easy introduction to mechanics, geometry, 
 phuic trigonometry, measuring heights and distances, optics.
 
 '■H4! KAMBLES KOUXDABOUT: 
 
 astronomy. To which is prefixed an essay on ihe advancement of 
 learnin^i: by various modes of recreation, illustrated with twelve 
 copper plates. For the use of schools as well as private gentlemen.' " 
 Lower down in the Horse Market — nearer Mare Fair that is, — on 
 the same side, lived a William Wykes, who was the proprietor of 
 the ordmary means of travelling to and from London. He had a 
 Post Coach, which set out from the George Inn, in Smithfield, at 
 six o'clock every Monday, Wednesday, and l^'riday morning, and 
 returned from Northampton to London at the same hour every 
 Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. This (we presume) was the 
 aristocratic conveyance, akin to the express trains on our railways. 
 For the multitude, Mr. Wykes provided a Stage Coach, which set 
 oat on the same days at four in the morning. On the 30th of 
 April there appeared a rival in the field. The " Publics' most 
 obedient humble servants, Thomas Gregory and Thomas Doughty," 
 started a " New Flying Stage Coach with Six Horses in one day, 
 to and from London and Northampton." It does not appear that 
 tlie public benefitted by the competition in the matter of increased 
 speed, and we may therefore assume that Mr. Wykes accomplished 
 in that respect all that was considered possible. Like the old 
 vehicle, " The New Flying Stage" commenced flying at four in the 
 morning, and going up, stopped at the Saracen's Head, Newport 
 PagncU, for breakfast, and at the Saracen's Head, St. Albans, fcr 
 dinner. The fare was fourteen shillings inside, " Children in lap 
 and outside passengers half price, with the allowance of fourteen 
 pounds luggage, the exceedings to pay One Penny per pound." 
 Passengers were taken up at the Red Lion, Peacock, and Angel. 
 This rivalry sorely " riled" Mr. Wykes, who forthwith issued an 
 indignant " Whereas," describing the new machine as being set up 
 in " mere opposition from Election principles," and denouncing the 
 •' Performers" Doughty and Gregory, " the last of whom either 
 -shamefully deserted or was scandalously seduced from Mr. Wykes's 
 service." Mr. Wykes voted for Howe. In the Horse Market also 
 lived Joseph Young, a chinuiey-sweepcr, who had rivals also, and
 
 NORTHAMPTON A HUNDRED YEAr's AGO. 245 
 
 advertized that " He carries on witli Care and Diligence his usual 
 Business of a Chimney Sweeper, and can assure the Publick that 
 Persons advertising last week in this Paper, not having been bred to 
 any Business, boldly assume That of Another, in which he was 
 regularly bred and instructed, and which was derived down to him 
 from his Ancestors." This sweep, with a long pedigree, Avas also 
 a poet, and vindicated his claims to patronage in the following 
 strains : — 
 
 " In sable Dress I use the Art 
 That's black, yet uncorrupt my Heart, 
 No other Care disturbs my head 
 Than that to earn and get my Bread. 
 When Lords and Country Squires conuuand. 
 Myself and Imps are strict at hand ; 
 Smoke ccndens'd from every Hole I rake. 
 Ready Pence for every Job I take. 
 When out at Top my head I peep, 
 I wake the Maids with " Chimney Sweep ; " 
 The Cook she brings a friendly Meal, 
 The Butler waits with Horn of Ale. 
 In every Place I'm welcome made, 
 And brisk pursue my Sooty Trade." 
 
 There is at least ingenuity in the Avay iu which the hospitable 
 duties of the cook and butler are insinuated. In Marc Fair, the 
 fine old house, lately belonging to Mr. Baker, appears to have been 
 occupied by the Eev. Mr. Eogers, who was master of the Free 
 Grammar School, and chaplain to Earl Spencer, who, in November 
 of the same year, presented him to the Rectory of Brampton Ash, 
 near Harborough. Mr. Woolly had the house belonging to the Vrcv 
 (rrammar School, recently demolished. Mr. Woolly had a school 
 opposite, at the corner of Pykc's-lane. In Gold-street, we find 
 " Hill Gudgeon," a name familar in the Corporation Annals as a 
 dealer at the Hose and Crown Inn in all sorts of grass seeds. In 
 Bridge-street, the Angel was kept by Alderman Davis. Charles
 
 246 RAMBLES EOUNDABOUT : 
 
 Isham, Esq., had the house nearly opposite, where Dr. Francis now 
 lives. John Davis, who was Lord Spencer's apothecary, lived in 
 the second house in Bridge-street. In the South-quarter, the 
 Courts, which are now numbered, were mostly named. The first, 
 going southward from the Fleece, is Glover's Yard, the next Callis's 
 Yard, then comes Taberner's Yard, and Widow Blett's Yard ; on 
 the West side is Manning's Yard. Attached to the name of one 
 Edward AYatts, in this neighbourhood, occurs the memorandum — 
 " Took away and not polled," — an incident indicative of the spirit 
 in which the elections were carried on. Those were the days of 
 " Wilkes and Liberty." The Northampton election commenced 
 on the 17th March and ended on April 1. Osborn and Rodney, 
 who were elected, polled each 611, and Howe 538. The total 
 number polled was 1149, although it was estimated that the real 
 electors did not exceed 930, so that no less than 219 persons 
 contrived to vote who did not possess the franchise. The return 
 was disputed, and Mr. Howe was declared to be elected. On the 
 22nd of February, in the following year, the successful petitioner 
 was conducted into the town, says the Mercury of that date, " by the 
 principal part of the inhabitants, with every demonstration of joy 
 which the presence of the man of their choice could inspire. The 
 decency and regularity preseiTed during the whole evening exceeded 
 everything that could be expected." Mr. Taylor, of Gold-street, 
 has, in connection with this election, a tobacco box with the words 
 * ' Spencer, Howe, and Liberty" upon it, which every elector who 
 voted for Howe received after the election. Howe was supported 
 by Earl Spencer and Sir James Laugham, and the two Sir Georges 
 by Lord Halifax and the Earl of Northampton. 
 
 There are in the possession of Mr. Taylor, of Gold-street, 
 some curious documents relating to this election. Some of the 
 papers are the evidence in support of the petition against the 
 return of Sir G. B. Eodney and Sir George Osborne — the two Sir 
 Georges as they are called. Thomas Summerfield, the confectioner 
 on the Parade, describes verj' graphically how, on a certain dn--
 
 KOETttAMPTON A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 247 
 
 there was a dinner at the Red Lyon (the site of which is now 
 occupied by the two houses at the South-west end of Sheep -street)! 
 then kept by Martin Lucas, at which Lord Halifax and Lord 
 Northampton were present, with the two Baronets, the Mayor, 
 Bailiffs, and other friends. The company, he says, 
 
 " Were very jolly, and many good healths drunk till about seven o'clock 
 at night it was agreed to march round the town, to shew their friends that they 
 were in high spirits, and to carry with them half a hogshead of ale, drawn upon 
 a truck, in order to drink some healths at the Market Cross, and animate their 
 fi'ieads. For this purpose about 200 links or torches were prepared, and 
 lighted, and they all set out (the witness in company), the lords, candidates, and 
 the .Mayor at the head of them, with the Militia drums and fifes in full tune and 
 colours flying ; ihey paraded through many of the streets and lanes, and as they 
 passed by the houses of Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Clarke, Captain Atkinson, or any 
 other in the opposite interest, they stopt, howled, hissed, with other 
 demonstrations of contempt and disapprobation of their conduct. This was 
 repeated at the George Inn, where a few of the committee and friends of the 
 opposite party were assembled, and then they went on to the Cross, and the 
 lords, candidates, &c., each drank a mug of ale in a bumper — Success to the 
 Town and Corporation of Northampton." 
 
 Eeturning by the George, a scuffle took place between the two 
 parties, in which a few heads were broken, and the Lords' party 
 had to retreat in confusion to their head-quarters, the Red Lion. 
 Mr. Summerfield did not observe whether the Mayor either gave or 
 received a broken head. At the Red Lion a debate was held (the 
 parties, what with the dinner, the bumpers at the Market Cross, 
 and the broken heads, being in an obviously peculiar condition for 
 deliberation), the question being whether they should put up with 
 the insult or revenge it. The conclusion at which they arrived 
 was exactly what might have been, under the circumstances, 
 anticipated. War was declared for, and everybody was ordered to 
 arm with mop-sticks, brooms, faggots, or whatever they could get, 
 and to put a piece of white paper in their hats to distinguish them. 
 Some cooler head, however, than tiiose of the majority, suggested 
 that the Mayor should first go to the George, as ambassador to
 
 2i8 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT: 
 
 ascertain whether it shouhl be peace or war; and the ]\Iayor, 
 accompanied by the Rev. Mr. Watts, went to the George 
 accordingly. On bis return he reported that the hostile committee 
 would give no answer to the embassy, so out they sallied, armed 
 as described. At tlie George they found the best part of one 
 hundred persons of the opposite party standing in the gateway, 
 about the house, and in the street, many of them armed witli sticks. 
 The Red Lion party, however, numbered above two hundred, and 
 Mr. Gardiner, Chaplain to Lord Northampton, making a blow 
 at some person (the iirst the witness observed given), a general 
 engagement ensued. The Spencer party, finding themselves too 
 weak for their opponents, retreated into the George gateway, 
 leaving their antagonists in possession of the field. 
 
 "Lord Halifax then maih a srieech signifjing that the town was his 
 patrimony, and he would pitch his standard there. Then the friends of the 
 Lords broke the windows of the George with stones and sticks, but the great 
 gate being shut, ihey marched down Biidge Street, and then returned to the 
 lied Lion, breaking several windows as they passed." 
 
 Mr. Summerfield's brother Joseph, who was a cooper, confirms 
 generally the confectioner's account. "The Lords," he says, 
 " when they got to the Market Cross, declared their intention of 
 building a market cross, and giving £500 to the poor." As they 
 went up Newland-street, at Captain Atkinson's the mob " hissed 
 
 and howled very violently, and caused the 's March to 
 
 Ije beat by the Militia drums and fifes." Ihe wounded were taken 
 to the Mayor's house to be dressed. The witness particularly 
 remembered that the Mayor and Bailiffs attended this famous 
 expedition : — 
 
 "Next morning," he continues, "a very large mob itom the country 
 consisting of the two Lords' tenants, labourers, and other dependants, to the 
 number of 4 or 500 (as he believes), headed by their Lordships' doinesticks 
 armed with large clubs, and other oHensive weapons, were brought into the 
 town and quartered there, but Lord Spencer coming to town the same day, and 
 finding the whole town in an uproar, went to the balcony of the George, and 
 addressing himself to the populace personally and to his friends, desired they
 
 NOKTU.VMPTON A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 24\) 
 
 would desist from any acts of violence, and declared lie would protect tlieni 
 from any insult, and would give them £1000 to be immediately distributed in 
 bread, coals, and flour if they would go home and behave peaceably. And liis 
 Lordship procured a meeting the same day at the County Hospital, with the two 
 Lords and their candidates, in consequence of which the mob were sent out of 
 town immediately, Lord Spencer not leaving the town till he saw they were 
 gone, and from that time there was no further disturbance until the election 
 was over." 
 
 The date of these events is fixed by the evidence of Alderman 
 John Davies, Lord Spencer's apothecary, who says the riot occurred 
 ou the 20th October, 1767, about eight in the evening. Tlie witness 
 saw it, he says, out of his own house, opposite to the George — the 
 second house in Bridge Street from the corner of Gold Street. Tiie 
 corner house was occupied by Mr, Alderman Lyon, " An old 
 gentleman of 74." 
 
 Both the Summerfields were originally partizans of the " Sir 
 Georges," and Thomas, according to Joseph's evidence, furnished a 
 large parcel of the faggot sticks with which the Sir Georges' mob 
 were armed. Hoav they came to change their colours is variously 
 related. Joseph says he intended to serve " the two Georges " 
 originally, " and used his utmost endeavour for that purpose till the 
 beginning of December, when the witness was informed that several 
 tradesmen who had long before that time been employed by the; 
 Lords' party and their friends in their several occupations were turned 
 off because they would not vote for the two candidates, which the 
 witness disapproved of, and represented the same to Mr. Litch- 
 field, one of the Lords' agents, telling him that the witness was 
 employed by many of the opposite interest, and if they proceeded 
 in that manner to make removes in business he should be a very 
 great suft'crer in his trade, and they persisting in the manner of 
 proceeding the witness left them." Thomas Sunnncrfield states 
 that he had resolved to give one vote for a third man, and ou Lord 
 Northampton declaring that he would not regard him as his friend 
 if he did he finally determined to support Mr. 11 owe. A note witli 
 the pen ruu through it, however, says, " it is said this witness was
 
 250 RAMBLES ROUNDABOUT. 
 
 arrested for £100, and carried to gaol about Christmas, 1767. 
 That the Lords refused to pay the del)t, and therefore he went over 
 to the other side, who paid it, and came over to them." The 
 proceedings altogether, indeed, seem to have been marvellously 
 corrupt and violent. One witness had charge of a lot of voters at 
 tlie Peacock, where three strong gates had been erected to keep 
 them secure. The Mayor and one Alderman Gibson were open and 
 violent partizans. Joseph Clark, a woolstapler, of Abington Street, 
 one, apparently, of the most impartial witnesses, who threw away 
 a small stick which he carried, lest he should be supposed to be a 
 participator in the riot, says — 
 
 " He saw several insults offered on both sides, but happening to be near 
 the Mayor, who was hallooing ' Rodney and Osborn,' and perceiving a rude lad 
 with a torch endeavouring to set fire to his wig, the witness took a great deal of 
 pains to prevent him, and to protect the Mayor's person from insult, upon 
 which Mr. Breton, turning round, and seeing him so near him, as the witness 
 apprehends, mistaking his real intent, with great vehemence and passion thrust 
 his hat in the witness's face, perfectly gnashing his teeth with fury. At the 
 George he found many of his friends washing the blood from their heads, and 
 bathing their bruises with brandy." 
 
 Eeading these evidences, indeed, one feels that Hogarth's 
 " General Election " was no caricature. There is nothing in the 
 great humorist more extravagant than these incidents of the boy 
 setting fire to his Worship's wig, and the washing and brandying 
 scene at the Geor":e.
 
 ^( W\sm of irg ioiu3. 
 
 " So I prophesied as I was commanded : and as I prophesied there was h 
 noise, Hird behold a shaking, and the bones came together, bone to his bone. 
 
 " And when I beheld, lo, the sinews and the flesh came np upon them, and 
 the skin covered them above : but there was no breath in them." 
 
 EZEKIEL XXXVII., 7, 8. 
 
 HERE was a vale, a lonely vale, 
 With summer's dainty flowers unstrovvn, 
 Where evening's winds made dreary wail 
 Mid wrecks of nations overthrown. 
 
 There was a shaking, and behold ! 
 Dry bones were joined with fellow-bones, 
 And sinewy band and fleshly fold 
 Re-clad those dusty skeletons. 
 
 And from the south and from the north, 
 From spicy east and balmy west, 
 The breath of life, oh Lord, breathed forth, 
 And Israel lived at Thy behest. 
 
 The vision is no more — the type, 
 My God, hath living import still ; 
 A time we know shall yet be ripe, 
 Fulfilling Thine Almighty will.
 
 THE VISION OF DRY BONES. 
 
 "VVhcn earth must yield her buried dead, 
 And scattered dust with dust unite, 
 And, firm in hope, or shrunk in dread. 
 Stand in the whiteness of Thy sigiit. 
 
 So may we live that we may gaze 
 
 "Unharmed upon that awful front, 
 
 And feel the scorching of its rays 
 
 As life from Love's celestial font. 
 
 -4^'
 
 Canon's ^sWi 
 
 The Seat of Sir Henry L. Dryde.v, Bart. 
 
 PEN'S ER, and Diyclen, and Sara Eichardson ! 
 What hope of slumber in this haunted phice ; 
 i. The Faery Queen, with all her Elfin race ; 
 The Red-Cross Knight, Sir Calidore, Guyon, 
 The lion-hearted Una, harmed by none ; 
 The phantom maiden, and the infernal chase ; 
 The courtly Grandison's unequalled grace ; 
 All these throun'h dreamino; memory would nni, 
 
 'Tis like a holiday deep in the Past ; 
 A backward journey into times gone by ; 
 Life seems in antique moulds to be re-cast ; 
 I hear of centuries dead the quaint, sweet sigh, 
 Share in their pageants and their revelry, 
 And doff my cap to Spenser, musing nigli. 
 
 Canon's Ashby is situate about thirteen miles S.W. of Nin-lliiuiipton. Tlir 
 house was built at different periods. The Dryden arms on the old Hall door^ 
 «shovv that they were first put up by Sir John Di'ydcn, between his marriage in 
 1551 and his death in 1584. He married a daughter of Sir John Cope. The 
 I'oet was the eldest son of Erasmus Dryden, who >as the tliird son of Sir 
 Erasnuis Dryden, of Canon's Ashby. There is a bust of the Poet in tiie Hall, 
 whieh is said to be the model for the bust in Westminster Abbey. Aubrey 
 states that Spenser, the poet, was a frequenter of Canon's Ashby ; that there 
 was a room there called Mr. Spenser's chamber ; and that Sjicnser's wife was 
 a kinswoman of Frances, the wife of Sir Erasmus Dryden, and daughter >>\' 
 William Wilkes, of Ilodwell. Uiehardson, the novelist, was a friend of tin- 
 fimily, and it is stated that a great part of " Sir Chai-les Grandison " was 
 written here.
 
 Carisbroolv. 
 
 F it had been our destiny 
 
 So mucli of worldly wealth to share. 
 My Mary, as had left us free 
 Where fancy willed to shelter there, 
 I would not seek a lovelier nook 
 Wherein to dwell than Carisbrook. 
 
 I clomb its castled heights to-day — 
 I looked from off its antique walls, 
 And golden fields beneath me lay, 
 And humble cot, and lordly hall ; 
 And clusters of the hoary oak 
 Luxuriant spread by Carisbrook. 
 
 And hills remote, whose bosoms bright 
 Seemed panting in the noontide ray, 
 And lofty cliffs of dazzling white, 
 And ocean stretching far away, 
 Bounded a scene heart could not look 
 Unmoved upon. Sweet Carisbrook !
 
 CARISBROOK. 
 
 'Twas evening when, in musini^ mood, 
 I stood beside thy crystal spring, 
 And songht a holy solitude, 
 Through lane romantic wandering : 
 How calm and sacred didst thou look, 
 In that chaste twiliglit, Carisbrook. 
 
 And many a cottage home was there, 
 Embowered in vine and clematis : 
 Dear haunts, Avhere sorrow's self would wear 
 Some sacred garb, some touch of bliss. 
 Had we but one such hallowed nook, 
 How blest were life in Carisbrook. 
 
 I've bade a fond farewell to thee, 
 Perchance to see thee never more ; 
 But should a better destiny 
 Thy wanderer's pathway brighten o'er. 
 Again, with happier gaze, he'll look 
 Upon thee, beauteous Carisbrook. 
 
 For then another heart than mine 
 Shall thrill thy loveliness to see, 
 And lips which are to mc divine 
 Shall breathe their elo([uencc for thee. 
 And thou to me shall brighter look. 
 Companioned thus, sweet CiU'isbi'ook.
 
 CAKISBROOK. 
 
 Forgive me, tlieii, if still my soul, 
 When gazing on thy loveliest scene, 
 Avowed and felt one sad control, 
 And memory dropped her veil between. 
 Forgive me, if my way I took 
 Sighless from thee, sweet Carisbrook. 
 
 'Twas only love could work this wrong, 
 All colder cares I could deride ; 
 And thou, when winter howls along 
 Thy ])eaceful vale, thy proud hill's side. 
 Shall find that, in my memory's book, 
 Mv heart has writ thee, Carisbrook. 
 
 (The ii:\\h. 
 
 inCEir, PRINTER, " JIliRCURY " OI'i'K K, XUKTII \MPT;).X.
 
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 130 the old man and the conqueror. 
 
 Conqueror : 
 
 You know me not ! 
 Why more than twelve proud months have passed away 
 Since, conquering the land that gave you birth, 
 I changed the course of your long kingly line 
 And overthrew the throne — 
 
 Old Man : 
 
 Pray pardon me. 
 I did not know that I had changed my master. 
 
 Conqueror : 
 Why, how now leveller ! Wliat is your lot, then ? 
 
 Old Man : 
 Born in this wood, I never left its shade; 
 In peace year after year hath been heaped on me; 
 My partner and two sons cheer my life's close ; 
 Our wealth — six goats, and arms disposed for toil. 
 It has sufficed us ever, God be blessed. 
 And will. But here's the road, Sir. Fare you welL 
 Pardon an old man's ignorance. 
 
 Conqueror: 
 
 farewell ! 
 Happy old man !
 
 €xmfs flaiion. 
 
 nHE tali spire of Green's Norton Clmreli is a pretty object 
 from Towcester, and Towcester reciprocates the pleasure, 
 tlie square tower of its cluu-ch being visible from Green's 
 Norton. From Towcester to Green's Norton there is a 
 pleasant walk of less than two miles., across flush 
 meadows at this Spring season "painted with delight " 
 by " daisies pied " and the golden gorgeousness of buttercups ; 
 by the side of a brook chattering over pebbles ; by the low 
 .embankment of an embryo railway, under tall hedges white 
 with May-blossom and skirting fields vividly green with the 
 young wheat ; and so out at length into the roadway oppo- 
 site the bowery residence of the late Mr. John Elliott. A 
 «hort walk along the road and Ave come into Green's Norton, — a 
 long, straggling, wide, irregular village, with a brook crossing it, 
 and roads branching out right and left. The church-spire rises 
 above it, backed by a belt of trees in picturesque relief. From the 
 Blakesley road, at the end opposite to that by which we entered, 
 4,here is a considerable ascent, from which almost a bii'd's-eye view 
 .of the village is obtained. You turn eastward out of the High 
 Street, if we may call it so, to reach the church, which is on an 
 (leleyated table-land. 
 
 We live in an age of chureh-restoration. Will future times 
 anathematize our restorers as Ave .anathematize the restorers of halt 
 a-eentuij ago ? \A'hat a grievous spectacle .does Green's Noi'tei
 
 130 the old man and the conqueror. 
 
 Conqueror : 
 
 You know me not ! 
 Why more than twelve proud months have passed away 
 Since, conquering the land that gave you birth, 
 I changed the course of your long kingly line 
 And overthrew the throne — 
 
 Old Man : 
 
 Pray pardon me. 
 I did not know that I had changed my master. 
 
 Conqueror : 
 Why, how now leveller ! What is your lot, then ? 
 
 Old Man -. 
 Born in this wood, I never left its shade; 
 In peace year after year hath been heaped on me ; 
 My partner and two sons cheer my life's close ; 
 Our wealth — six goats, and arms disposed for toil. 
 It has sufficed us ever, God be blessed. 
 And will. But here's the road. Sir. Fare vou well 
 Pardon an old man's ignorance. 
 
 Conqueror: 
 
 Farewell ! 
 Happy old man !
 
 €mn's Sarti^m 
 
 nHE tall spire of Green's Norton Chiireli is a pretty object 
 
 from Towcester, and Towcester reciprocates the pleasure^ 
 
 tlie square tower of its cbiu'cli being visible from Green's 
 
 k^;^i)^ Norton. Prom Towcester to Green's Norton there is a 
 
 ^^^ pleasant walk of less than two miles, across flush 
 
 meadows at this Spring season " painted with delight " 
 
 by " daisies pied " and the golden gorgeousness of buttercups ; 
 
 by the side of a brook chattering over pebbles ; by the low 
 
 .embankment of an embryo railway, under tall hedges white 
 
 with May-blossom and skirting fields vividly green with the 
 
 young wheat ; and so out at length into the roadway oppo- 
 
 •site the bowery residence of the late Mr. John Elliott. A 
 
 short walk along the road and we come into Green's Norton, — a 
 
 long, straggling, wide, irregular village, with a brook crossing it, 
 
 and roads branching out right and left. The church-spire rises 
 
 above it, backed by a belt of trees in picturesque relief. Prom the 
 
 Blakesley road, at the end opposite to that by which we entered, 
 
 there is a considerable ascent, from which almost a bia'd's-eye view 
 
 of the village is obtained. You turn eastward out of the High 
 
 Street, if we may call it so, to reach the church, which is on au 
 
 televated table-laud. 
 
 We live in an age of chureh-restoratioa. Will future times 
 anathematize our restorers as we anathematize the restorers of half- 
 .a-eentuiy ago ? What a gi-ievous spectacle .docs Gr£.en's Noi-toji