There is hardly a pleasanter spot in the island from which to explore its beauties than Peel. Situated on its west coast, at a point sufficiently equidistant from its north and south extremities, and as much out of reach of the corrupting influence of Douglas as any centre well can be in an island of such insignificant dimensions, Peel is not merely an admirable centre from which to make excursions, but in itself is one of the quaintest and most picturesque of little towns. Castletown, in fact, is its only possible Manx rival, and Castletown ranks below it by a very long interval. The inland parts of the town, no doubt, are dull, as new parts of most towns are apt to be everywhere; but the ancient nucleus of the place, at the exact point where the little River Neb flows out into the sea, and St. Patrick's Island (which is now no longer an island, but an artificial peninsula), are as picturesque and old-fashioned as anyone can wish. St. Patrick's Island, indeed, whether viewed at close quarters from the little pier on the opposite side of the harbour—where sometimes at night one almost stumbles over piles of freshly caught fish that are left there to glimmer and glint in the moonlight—or seen from a distance from the coast to the north of Peel Bay, is probably the most striking object in the whole Kingdom of Man. Possibly the Rock of Cashel, which the writer has never seen, is crowded with points of interest as many and as diverse: nowhere else, he fancies, in the range of the British seas is it possible to discover such variety of interest concentrated in a space so diminutive as this. Here is an old castle and a ruined palace, a round tower, a roofless cathedral, and an old pre-Conquest church. None by itself is of great importance, but the aggregate (bounded in seven acres) is imposing in its "infinite variety." The round tower, of course, has analogies in Ireland, and at Abernethy, Egilsay, and Brechin, in Scotland; but is absolutely without parallel in England. Much learning has been expended on the meaning of these structures, which were possibly nothing more or less than places of refuge, strange as their shape may appear for this purpose, for people to take shelter in times of sudden scare. The Peel round tower, however, differs from its Scottish and Irish neighbours in being of one uniform diameter from bottom to finish, not tapering like the others towards its top. The cathedral of St. Germain, now derelict and roofless, exhibits more distinctive architectural features than any other old church in the island. Parts of it date from the thirteenth century; and many bishops of Sodor and Man have been buried inside its walls. One of these, Samuel Rutter, who died in 1662, is commemorated still by an inscription so quaint—it is easy to believe that it was written by himself—that we may be pardoned for setting out most of it at length: "In hac domo quam A vermiculis accepi confratribus meis, spe Resurrectionis ad vitam, Jaceo Sam, Permissione divina Episcopus Hujus Insulae. Siste Lector vide ac ride palatium episcopi. Obiit XXX° die mensis Maij anno 1662." This is very wittily Englished thus in Black's guide-book:

The crypt below the church is said once to have been used as a prison for Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester, who bulks so largely in the second part of Shakespeare's Henry VI. "Not all these lords," exclaims the infuriated Margaret,

The Duchess was accused in 1441 of treason against the King's life; and was condemned, after doing penance for three days in the streets of London, bareheaded, and with a lighted taper in her hand—Shakespeare adds in a white sheet and with naked feet—to be kept in prison for life. Shakespeare, or whoever wrote the Second Part of Henry VI., makes her sent at once to the Isle of Man, in the custody of its governor, Sir John (it should have been Sir Thomas) Stanley. It appears, however, from the Dictionary of National Biography that she was first incarcerated at Chester, and afterwards at Kenilworth; and it was only in July, 1446, that she was removed to the Isle of Man, where "she is said to have been imprisoned in Peel Castle till her death." Mr. W. R. Hall Caine, on the contrary, though he goes into no detail, states roundly that "the Duchess was never a prisoner in Peel Castle" at all—"she never set foot on our island." Who shall decide where doctors disagree? Anyhow, it is extremely unlikely that she was "cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd" in this narrow vault underneath the cathedral. If Shakespeare may be trusted—but, of course, he is no authority—the lady was to be kept close prisoner, but treated with due respect:

Another tradition of this strange rock is the "Spectre Dog," which was introduced by Scott into the Lay of the Last Minstrel, with his usual delightful allusiveness:

Scott, apparently, to judge from the notes to the edition of his Poems published at Edinburgh in 1830, got his material for this reference from Waldron's Description of the Isle of Man, in which a tradition is preserved "that an apparition, called, in the Mankish language, the Mauthe Dhoo, in the shape of a large black spaniel with curled shaggy hair, was used to haunt Peel Castle; and has been frequently seen in every room, but particularly in the guard-chamber, where, as soon as candles were lighted, it came and lay down before the fire, in presence of all the soldiers, who at length, by being so much accustomed to the sight of it, lost great part of the terror they were seized with at its first appearance." They still, however, "as believing it was an evil spirit, which only waited permission to do them hurt ... forbore swearing and all profane discourse while in its company, and none cared to be left alone with it," nor was anyone willing without company to traverse a certain passage, from which the dog was noticed to emerge at close of day, and which it entered again at daybreak. "One night, a fellow being drunk, and by the strength of his liquor rendered more daring than ordinary, laughed at the simplicity of his companions, and, though it was not his turn to go with the keys, would needs take that office upon him to testify his courage. All the soldiers endeavoured to dissuade him, but the more they said the more resolute he seemed, and swore that he desired nothing more than that Mauthe Dhoo would follow him as it had done the others, for he would try if it were dog or devil. After having talked in a very reprobate manner for some time, he snatched up the keys and went out of the guard-room; in some time after his departure a great noise was heard, but nobody had the boldness to see what occasioned it, till, the adventurer returning, they demanded the knowledge of him.

But as loud and noisy as he had been at leaving them, he was now become sober and silent enough, for he was never heard to speak more; and though all the time he lived—which was three days—he was entreated by all who came near him either to speak, or, if he could not do that, to make some signs by which they could understand what had happened to him, yet nothing intelligible could be got from him, only that, by the distortion of his limbs and features, it might be guessed that he died in agonies more than are common in a natural death. The Mauthe Dhoo was, however, never seen after in the castle, nor would anyone attempt to go through that passage—for which reason it was closed up, and another way made. This accident happened about threescore years since, and I heard it attested by several, but especially by an old soldier, who assured me he had seen it oftener than he had then hairs on his head."