large space of time and such vast social | little to the north lies Fonthill Abbey, of changes. Sir Stephen largely benefited his more recent fame as the seat of Alderman native village, building church and alms- Beckford and his son, the eccentric author houses, and leaving many memorials of his of Vathek. The glories of Fonthill, built generosity. by James Wyatt in his best style of debased Gothic, with a tower near three hundred feet high, soon came to an end. The tower fell down in 1825 with a crash that destroyed the best part of the edifice, and there is now little to be seen of this ruin of modern times. Farther to the south, on the banks of Avon, lies Downton, famed in legendary lore as the dwelling-place of Bogo, Beirs, or Bevis. In evidence of which is one of the most remarkable of existing pre-Norman monuments, known as the Moot, a series of immense earthworks, with a conical mound in the centre, the latter probably used by the Saxons for local and national assemblies, although tradition-not to be despised in this connection - ascribes a still more ancient origin to the place, even to the days of mighty Arthur and his table round. Another entrenchment of unknown origin and great antiquity is known as Grim's Ditch, and marks the boundary of some forgotten kingdom, while farther to the west the Arthurian tradition is continued in Garven's Barrow, near Broad Chalk: That Garvayn with his old courtisye, who still abides in Fairyland, although now and then he may be permitted to revisit the glimpses of the moon over his old hunting-grounds, still often resounding to the music of horn and hounds. Many are the woods and chases in this southern part of Wilts-a part cut off from the rest of the country by the broad wilderness of Salisbury Plain. And traces of the old forest laws have come down to modern times. A great hunting-ground was Cranbourn Chase, that at one time seems to have joined the New Forest on the one side, while it stretched almost to Salisbury city on the other. Thus, till recently, in the fence month-for fifteen days before Midsummer Day, and for as long after-every waggon and packhorse passing over Harnham Bridge, close by Salisbury, was liable to pay toll for the benefit of the forester, on account of the disturbance to the deer while dropping their fawns. At this period a pair of horns were fixed over the bridge as a warning to travellers to keep themselves and their dogs in order in passing along the highway. Remains of the ancient forest exist in the numerous parks and woods in this part of the country. There is Wardour, with its ancient ruin and classic mansion, the seat of Lord Arundel, which has given its name to Wardour Street, Soho; and a Near the south-west angle of the county, where Somerset, Dorset, and Wilts meet, lies Mere, with its handsome church; and still farther west, in a nook that is almost surrounded by Somersetshire, is Stourton, with Stourhead close by, with its singular springs-six of them in all, three in Somersetshire and three in Wilts—which form the source of the river Stour; a river that follows a winding independent course right across the county of Dorset, till it falls into the Christchurch Estuary close to Avonmouth. And this Stourhead, with its park and mansion, is one of the most ancient seats in the kingdom, a Saxon fortress lang syne; but in modern times the seat of the Hoares, whose name is equally familiar in Fleet Street as in Wilts. a Of this family was Sir Richard Colt Hoare, renowned for his Monumental Histories of Ancient and Modern Wiltshire, -monumental truly in size and weightthe last in six huge volumes, the thinnest of which is a good load for a topographical student; but a monument also of rational employment of cultured leisure and unstinted wealth. Of his own prosperous and unchequered career the historian gives a short sketch. "Suffice it to say that in my youth I was initiated in the business of our family bank, till my grandfather removed me from it and gave up to me, during his own lifetime, all his landed property." But during all his long life, the chief delight of this worthy baronet was in the history and traditions of his own county. Visitors to Salisbury Cathedral will notice the fine effigy of Sir Richard Hoare among the monuments of the worthies of the county. There may also be noticed a plain altar tomb, in memory not of a worthy indeed, but of one of the former lords of Stourton, to which attaches a strange and sinister interest. Six openings in the tomb represent the six springs of Stour, which the lords of Stourton bore in their coat-of-arms. Till within the present century there was suspended over well, and even went to the expense of ten groats in masses, to clear Master Hartgill of the sin of homicide. Thus it was the terrible ingratitude of the man that angered Lord Stourton to madness, when he who had risen under his patronage to be steward, and whom he had put as a sort of locum tenens into the manor of Kilmington-which had once belonged to the Church, and which he could not conscientiously hold himself— should turn round and defy him. However, his lordship determined to be reasonable and conciliatory, and, going to Hartgill's fellows at his heels, he put it to his old retainer calmly: Will you and Dame Rhys enter into a bond, under such and such tremendous penalties, that she shall never marry again, or take her ill-got belongings into the house of a stranger? Hartgill would have nothing to say to this, and my lord took his refusal in high dudgeon. the tomb a wire noose, which significantly conveyed to the passer-by the fact that he who rested below had been hanged. The story of Lord Stourton's fate, apart from its tragic interest, conveys such a curious picture of the manners of the times, and of the district which formed the scene of its occurrence, that it may be well to tell here an oft-told tale that may now have become new again from its very antiquity. We must go back to the reign of Edward the Sixth, when every parish, and almost every household, was divided against itself by by unhappy religious religious dissen-house with only a dozen or so of stout sions. Charles, Lord Stourton, was the son of one of Henry the Eighth's captains, who had lost his life at the siege of "Bullen," and his mother had been one of those proud and aspiring Dudleys into whose generous veins some malignant fairy seems to have squeezed a drop of black and murderous blood. His high connections brought Lord Stourton into active political life; he voted frequently On Whit Sunday, in the morning, when in the royal council, generally in a sense service was going on, no doubt according opposite to the Reformation, and he was to the new prayer-book-for the Hartgills one of those who cast to his death the ill-were staunch for the Reformation-Lord fated Seymour, Duke of Somerset. The example of his noble relations, who unhesitatingly did to death any who came in their way, although preferably by due form of law, encouraged, no doubt, in Lord Stourton a certain unscrupulous, arbitrary way of action, that was likely to prove inconvenient in private life. And in his private life he had many things to try him. Old Evergreen, his father, had married again, late in life-the Lady Elizabeth having been conveyed to the tomb-a young wife, doubtless, one Mistress Ryce, according to the record-probably a stirring, black-eyed Welsh Dame Rhys. And the old man had left to Madame Rhys the greater part of his disposable goods and chattels, while, backed up by the steward of the estate, one Hartgill, she seems even to have taken possession of the family mansion, and held it against Lord Stourton vi et armis. Here, however, Lord Stourton had the law on his side, and he succeeded in turning out Madame Rhys, who took refuge in the house of Hartgill, the steward. Now, this Hartgill had been once a favourite retainer of Lord Charles. He had killed a man in a broil, it is said, and was therefore glad of such a powerful protector. On his part Lord Charles was glad to enlist a man with such strong recommendations in his favour, and treated him Charles came to Kilmington Church with The sheriff arrived at Kilmington on the Wednesday and released old Hartgill from the church-tower, where he had been besieged all this time. Lord Stourton did not venture to try conclusions with the King's officer, and accompanied the sheriff to London, where he was admitted to the Fleet; but there he tarried not long. His friends in the council were too powerful for the Hartgills, and when my lord was released he hastened home to take his revenge. And thus, during all King Edward's reign, Lord Stourton continued his malice against the Hartgills, seizing corn and cattle whenever he could lay hands upon them, so that the family dared stay no longer in the neighbourhood, and took refuge elsewhere. When King Edward was dead, however, the Hartgills, in person, made humble suit to Queen Mary for justice, when she was lying at Basing End, in Hampshire. Lord Stourton, as a zealous Catholic, was in personal favour with the Queen, notwithstanding his connection with the Dudleys, while the Hartgills, being of the Puritan persuasion, could hardly expect much favour. But, with all her faults, Mary had a royal sense of justice, and she called on Lord Stourton to make amends. And so my lord promised that if the Hartgills would come home and desire his good-will -a relic of the almost-forgotten homage due to the lord of the fee-he would take them under his protection and restore all their goods and chattels. Upon this the Hartgills rode homewards, taking a witness to their submission, but were set upon on the way by Lord Stourton's men, who left John Hartgill for dead by the roadside, while the father and his friend escaped unhurt. John, however, recovered from his wounds, and haled Lord Stourton before the Star Chamber, which imposed a fine for the benefit of the Hartgills, and committed my lord once more to the Fleet. Lord Stourton, however, soon got his liberty on bail, and rode away to spend his Christmas at Stourton. Then he sent word to the Hartgills that he was ready to pay them the Star Chamber money, and desired to come to an end of all disputes, if they would appoint a meeting. The Hartgills, still doubting, as was natural enough, his lordship's disposition, appointed the Monday after Twelfth Day, in Kilmington Church porch a very usual place to receive and pay legal obligations. And Lord Stourton was punctual to his tryst, but came with fifteen or sixteen servants of his own, and a great company of knights, justices, and other gentlemen, in all about sixty in number. It says something for the state of manners in the west, that the sight of all these knights and justices, so far from reassuring the Hartgills, filled them with dismay. With just forebodings, they could hardly be prevailed upon to approach, but came forth at last upon the word of the knights and justices that no harm should befall them. My lord had taken his station at the door of the church-house-the usual meeting-place of the village council, where they feasted afterwards-as vestrymen have done in later times. My lord had spread his baits; a bag of money and sundry papers appeared on the table before him. They should have their money, every penny of it, as the Hartgills approached; but, first, my lord would know them to be true men. These words were the signal agreed upon between Lord Stourton and his men, who closed in upon the unfortunate Hartgills. "I attach you of felony," roared his lordship; and this charge was held to absolve the knights and justices from their pledged word. The Hartgills were bound hand and foot, and thus left prisoners at the parsonage; while John's wife, who had come to her husband's help, was brutally cut down by Lord Stourton. Some form of law was preserved in all this lawlessness; for the Hartgills were dragged to a house near Stourton, and there examined by two justices of the peace-friends of my lordwho made out a mittimus to send them to gaol. But Lord Stourton, knowing how poor an account he could make of all this before the council, now gave rein to his murderous passion. At night he sent four of his servants to bring the Hartgills before him, bidding them significantly knock the captives on the head if they were troublesome. And then the old man and his son were dragged forth and knocked on the head with clubs, while my lord stood at the door of his gallery, which was scarce a quoit's cast from the place of execution. The bodies of the victims were dragged to his lordship's feet, when, as they stirred and groaned, he bade the others cut their throats. And when this was done, one at least of the poor, brutal hinds who had too faithfully done their master's bidding, awoke to the horror of the deed. “Ah, my lord, this is a pitiful sight!" cried the repentant murderer. "Had I thought that I now think before the thing was done, your whole land could not have won me to such a deed." But Lord Stourton bade the men take heart, for it was no more than killing two sheep. At the foot of the gallery-stairs was a pit or dungeon, belonging to the old castle, and into this the bodies were thrown; while two of the men were let down with ropes into the dreadful oubliette and buried the bodies deep beneath stones and rubbish. But justice was at last aroused, and those who had been the wicked lord's accomplices now hastened to denounce him. And presently we find Lord Stourton arraigned at Westminster Hall, before the judges and divers of the council. Sullenly he held his tongue, and mutely refused to plead, till the Chief Justice sternly declared that if he would not answer, he should be pressed to death. He made no further defence, and, cast by his own words, was condemned to die. And from the Tower the sheriff of his county took him, and they rode by leisurely stages towards Salisbury, and there, in the early morning, Lord Stourton was hung-with a silken rope, it is saidwith one of his men by his side. The other three ruffians were hanged on the scene of their crime. And thus ended a tragedy that made a great impression on the men of the west, although it is strange to find that the sympathy of the county gentry was rather with "this unfortunate nobleman," as he is euphemistically called by the historian of Wilts, although at best but a cowardly ruffian, than with the victims of his crime. A narrow belt of fertile land connects the two sections of Wiltshire, otherwise so completely severed by the wild of Salisbury Plain, with Heytesbury (locally known as Holdsbury), Warminster, and Westbury, as so many stages in the highway that leads to the local capital of Trowbridge-a district, this, where the cloth trade still survives, and makes head against the competition of Yorkshire and the Continent, and which has preserved for West of England cloths the reputation they enjoy. Then we come to Bradford, which is the Broadford over the river Avon -the Bristol Avon, that is while, a little higher up the river, we come to Melksham, an ancient town that, after many ups and downs, has attained to some prosperity as an agricultural centre. The mineral waters which abound in the neighbourhood suggested the attempt to establish a rival settlement to that of Bath; but fashion refused to transfer its favours to the new spa, and the baths and pump-room have been turned to other uses. A little to the north of Melksham runs a well-defined Roman road connecting Bath and Marlborough, with the remains of an intermediate station at Heddington, where many Roman relics have been discovered. Not far distant is Bowood, the seat of the Pettys, a family which sprang from the great clothing industry, the first of whom to attain celebrity being Sir William, Physician-General to the Army in the time of the Commonwealth, and one of the early members of the College of Physicians and the Royal Society. Bowood itself formed part of the great forest called Pewsham, and was disafforested in the days of the great Oliver. The deer with which the wood was stocked had to be conveyed to Spy Park, through Lockshill Heath, across which it is said that the clothiers of the neighbourhood constructed a way skirted with broadcloth, along which the herd were safely driven. Laycock Abbey is close by-an interesting mansion, embodying the remains of the old nunnery, with its cloisters, offices, and refectory, while the bell that softly sounds the hours is the matin-bell that called the nuns to prayer. The nunnery was founded by Ela, the widow of William Longespee, a dame devout and fair, whom the King's justicier, Hugh de Burgh, it is said, attempted to corrupt during her husband's lifetime; but, failing in his purpose, he poisoned Earl William, who certainly died with suspicious suddenness after partaking of a feast of reconciliation with the enemy of his domestic peace. The Earl, it may be remembered, was the son of Henry the Second and Fair Rosamond, to whom tradition has ascribed a like tragic ending. Dame Ela, however, remained faithful to her husband's memory, and in the end took the veil in her own convent, of which she became Lady Abbess. On the extreme border of the county hereabouts is the pretty valley of Box, with Boxbrook flowing through it, and the famous tunnel of the Great Western Railway burrowing beneath. Near the entrance of the tunnel is Corsham, with its ancient hospital, of which Hasted, the Kentish topographer, was once the master. The parish church, too, is ancient and fine, and Corsham Court, the seat of the Methuen family, is a well-known show-place, with a good collection of pictures. To the westward, the Fosseway forms, for a couple of miles, the division between Wilts and Gloucester, and then lies in Wiltshire altogether till near Malmesbury, where it again forms the boundary-line for a space. At Malmesbury, the famous abbey is represented by portions of its once magnificent church, which now form the parish church. "Where the choir was is now grass-grown, where anciently were buried kings and great men; King Athelstan's grave now an asparagus-bed," writes John Aubrey, the antiquary; and this is a reminder that we are now in Aubrey's county, although he is better known as the author of a perambulation of Surrey. Aubrey was born at Easton Piercy, not far from here, in 1629, and some of his gossiping notes about his own neighbour hood are interesting. Draycot House was not far off, which Aubrey remembered as the seat of Sir Walter Long, a friend of Sir Walter Raleigh's, " and was the first who brought tobacco into use in Wilts. In those days the gentry had silver pipes. The ordinary sort made use of a walnut-shell and a strawe". -a hint here for modern pipe-makers. "Within these thirty-five years it was scandalous for a divine to take tobacco." In those days tobacco was worth its weight in silver, and, says Aubrey, "I have heard some of our old yeomen neighbours say that when they went to Malmesbury or Chippenham, they culled their biggest shillings to lay in the scale against tobacco." And Aubrey dwells with regret on the former state of the county before it was cut up by enclosures. "This county was then a lovely compain. In my remembrance much hath been enclosed, and every year more and more. There was then a world of labouring people maintayned by the plough. There were no rates for the poore even in my grandfather's daies, for the church ale at Witsuntide did their business." Quaint, too, is the story of how Newnton parish got its common. "King Athelstan having obtained a victory over the Danes by the assistance of the inhabitants of this place, riding to recreate himself, found a woman bayting of her cowe upon the way called the Fosse, which is a famous Roman way that goes from Cornwall to Scotland. This woman sat on a stoole, with the cowe fastened by a rope to the legge of the stoole. The manner of it occasioned the King to ask why she did so. She answered the King that they had no common belonging to the town. The Queen being then in his company, by their consent it was granted that the town should have so much ground as the woman would ride round upon a bare-ridged horse." The good woman undertook the task, and carried it safely through, since which time Newnton has had its common, and up to the end of the seventeenth century, and perhaps later, commemorated the gift yearly by a kind of feast, one of the most striking features of which was "a mayd of the town, with a ghirland round her neck," who is to be kissed three times by a bachelor of some other parish, who, in his turn, "wears the ghirland, and is kissed by the mayd." Then there was a prayer, and, in the end, a big supper. The wild country begins again as we approach Marlborough with her stretching downs, and, on the way, a relic of prehistoric times in a wonderful stone circle at Avebury; not so imposing as Stonehenge, as meadows, cottages, and enclosures now occupy the site, but more extensive, and betokening some high ceremonial purpose-whether of Druidic rite or some still more ancient cultus, it is hard to say. But enough has been written on the subject to fill many portly volumes, and that without arriving at any thoroughly satisfactory conclusion. LADY LOVELACE. BY THE AUTHOR OF "JUDITH WYNNE," ETC., ETC. CHAPTER LII. THEN all those assembled there, looking one into the other's face, drew a long breath. They felt as spectators of an acted tragedy feel sometimes when the curtain drops on the closing scene, the lights are turned up, and things become comfortable and commonplace once more. In very truth, although madness had shone in Mrs. Thorne's eyes, could be heard in her voice and seen in her every gesture, it was withal a madness so dignified, composed, methodical, they dared not think of her as some half-dazed, half-crazed lunatic, uttering wild ravings, but rather as some grand, tragic actress, who, carried away by intensity of emotion, over-did her part. Uncle Hugh was the first to recover his powers of speech. "Of course she is mad-utterly mad," | he muttered; "but she won't be able to |