In the south aisle of the nave of Beverley Minster may be seen an uninscribed canopied altar tomb. It is a very fine specimen of the Early Decorated style, manifestly dating from the period of Edward II. or the earlier portion of the reign of his successor. It is covered with a massive slab of Purbeck marble, rising above which is an exquisitely proportioned pointed arch or canopy, with pinnacles and turrets, crocketted work and finials, all elaborately chiselled and carefully finished. History records not whose mortal remains are deposited in the tomb: there it stands like the Sphynx on the sands of Egypt, maintaining a mysterious silence as to its origin, "a thing of beauty," displaying its elegance of form and the charms of its sculptured features to all beholders; but seeming to say—"Admire the perfection of my symmetry if you will, but inquire not whose relics I enshrine, whether of noble or saint. Unlike my more gorgeous sister tomb, in the choir, near the altar, which blazons forth the glory of the Percys, I choose, with Christian humility, and recognising the fact that death renders all equal, and that in the sight of the Almighty Judge a Percy is no better for all his glories than the pauper—to draw a veil over the earthly greatness of the family to which I belong."

Although history is thus silent in respect to the origin of the tomb, tradition is less reticent, and from its oral records we learn, not perhaps all that can be desired, but a narrative that probably has a basis of truth.

About a mile westward of Beverley Westwood, on the road to York, lies the pretty picturesque village of Bishop Burton, with its church on an eminence commanding an extensive view of the Wold lands on one hand, and of the country sloping down to the Humber on the other. It is environed by groups of patriarchal trees, including a noble specimen of the witch elm on the village green, with a trunk forty-eight feet in circumference, and which is held in great veneration by the villagers; and in the valley below is a small lake, which doubtless supplied fish to the household of the Archbishops of York when they had a palace here. It is a very ancient village, dating from the Celtic period, when it formed a burial place of the Druids and British chieftains. One of the numerous tumuli was opened in 1826. It was seventy yards in circumference, and was found to contain several skeletons of our remote forefathers of that race. From some tesselated pavements which have been discovered, it appears also to have been occupied afterwards by the Romans.

At the end of the seventh and beginning of the eighth century, the Lordship of South Burton, as it was then called, was held by Earl Puch, a Saxon noble. Its name was changed, after the Conquest, to Bishop Burton, from the circumstance that it belonged to the Archbishops of York, and their having a palace in the village, where Archbishop John le Romayne died in 1295. At this time South Burton formed a sort of oasis in a vast wilderness of forest, extending for miles in every direction, including the now open breezy upland of Beverley Westwood, then infested by wolves, through which ran trackways to Beverlega, where stood the recently founded church and monastery of St. John, northward of which, at the foot of the Wolds, lay another extent of forest land, called Northwood, perpetuated to this day in the name of the street—Norwood. Earl Puch's mansion was an erection of timber, with few of the appliances of modern domestic life, with a large hall, wherein he dined with his family and guests at the upper end of a long table, and his retainers and domestics at the lower end. More in the interior were the Lady Puch's bower and other private and sleeping apartments of the family; with inferior rooms for the household servants, the swineherds, cowherds, huntsmen, and other outdoor menials sleeping in the outhouses, with the animals of which they had charge.

Earl Puch had built a church in the village, a very primitive specimen of architecture, consisting of nave and chancel, of timber and wattles, with round-headed doors and windows, and rude zigzag ornamentation. It had neither tower nor transept, lacked bells, and its pulpit, altar, and font were fashioned of rough-hewn wood. Yet was it sufficient for the wants of the age, and served the purpose of worship, the heart being rightly tuned, as the most gorgeous cathedral of after ages.

St. John had now resigned the Archbishopric of York, and had retired to his monastery at Beverlega, to spend the remnant of his life in prayer, devotional exercises, and the seclusion of the cloister. The Earl, a pious man, was on very friendly terms with the ex-Archbishop, and invited him to come and consecrate his church, just finished, to which John readily assented, and, despite his years and infirmities, on the appointed day took up his walking staff and went on foot through Westwood to South Burton, meditating by the way on his past life, on his ancestral home at Harpham-on-the-Wolds, his student's life under St. Hilda at the Abbey of Streoneshalh, his episcopal career at Hagulstadt, his experience on the Archiepiscopal Throne of York, and his retirement to the Abbey of Beverlega, acknowledging, with grateful thanksgiving, the Providential hand that had sustained him through his varied course of life. On the arrival of the ex-Prelate at South Burton, he found the family in great grief in consequence of the illness of the Lady Puch, who had been stricken down by a severe attack of fever, which threatened to terminate her life. She was an exceedingly devout woman, assiduous in her attention to the duties of religion, charitable to the poor, and a great blessing to the poor and destitute of the village. A great portion of her time was spent in the educational training of her two lovely daughters, now approaching womanhood, and who much resembled her in the piety of their lives. She had now lain in bed a month, suffering agonies of torment, and expecting every day would be her last. Her husband wished to postpone the consecration of the church in consequence of her critical condition, but she would not listen to it. "Why," said she, "should the poor people be deprived of the privilege of hearing the service of God performed in a consecrated edifice because I, a poor insignificant mortal like themselves, am labouring under this affliction? Let the consecration take place the same as if I were well and able to take part in the ceremony; the thought of what is taking place will be more beneficial to me than all the doctor's medicine that shall be given me;" and it was determined that the ceremony should be proceeded with as if there were no impediment in the way.

Brithunus, a disciple of St. John, and the first abbot of his monastery, had also come over to assist in the ceremony, and to him we are indebted for a narrative of the miracle which accompanied it, as well as of many another notable miracle performed by St. John, which he communicated to Bede, who interwove them into his Ecclesiastical History. The consecration was duly performed according to the Anglo-Saxon style, with singing, prayers, the sprinkling of holy water, and a proclamation from the Archbishop that the edifice was now rendered sacred, and become a temple of the Living God, concluding with a benediction. "Then," says Brithunus, "the Earl desired him to dine at his house, but the Bishop declined, saying he must return to the monastery. The Earl pressing him more earnestly, vowed he would give alms to the poor if the Bishop would break his fast that day in his house. I joined my entreaties to his, promising in like manner to give alms for the relief of the poor if he would go and dine at the Earl's house and give his blessing. Having at length, with great difficulty, prevailed, we went in to dine."

The banquet was served with the profusion and splendour of the time, consisting chiefly of boar's flesh, venison, fish, and birds, eaten from platters of wood, with an ample supply of wine, which was passed round in flagons of silver. In the course of the repast, the conversation was confined almost exclusively to two topics—the new church and the hopes that were entertained of its becoming a blessing to the neighbourhood, and the illness of the Earl's wife, with which the Bishop sympathised with much kindly feeling.

"Can nothing be done," inquired the Earl, "by means of the church to alleviate her sufferings, if not to restore her to health? The physicians are at their wit's end; they know nothing of the nature of the disease, and the remedies they give seem rather to aggravate than cure it. Peradventure the blessing of a holy man might have a beneficial effect."

"The issues of life and death," replied the Bishop, "are in the hands of God alone. Sometimes it is even impious to attempt to overrule His ordinations, which, although often inscrutable and productive of affliction and suffering, are intended for some ultimate good."

At this moment one of the lady's handmaidens entered the banqueting-room with a message from her mistress to the effect that her pains had materially lessened since the consecration had taken place, and that she desired a draught of the holy water that had been used, feeling an inward conviction that it, accompanied by the Bishop's blessing, would be of great service. "The Bishop then," continues Brithunus, "sent to the woman that lay sick some of the holy water which he had blessed for the consecration of the church, by one of the brothers that went along with me, ordering him to give her some to drink, and wash the place where her greatest pain was with some of the same. This being done, the woman immediately got up in health, and perceiving that she had not only been delivered from her tedious distemper, but at the same time recovered the strength which she had lost, she presented the cup to the Bishop and me, and continued serving us with drink, as she had begun, till dinner was over, following the example of Peter's mother-in-law, who, having been sick of a fever, arose at the touch of our Lord, and having at once received health and strength, ministered to them."

The two young daughters of the Earl, on witnessing the miraculous restoration to health of their beloved mother, had retired together to their chamber to offer up their heartfelt thanksgivings to God for her recovery, and before the Bishop's departure came down to the banqueting-hall and received his blessing. They were exceedingly lovely both in form and feature, and when they entered the hall, with modest downcast eyes, it seemed to those present as if two angelic beings from the celestial sphere had deigned to visit them. "Come hither, my children," said their mother, "and thank the good Bishop for interceding with heaven on my behalf, and who has thus been instrumental in delivering me from the terrible disease under which I have been labouring for so long a period." In response, the young maidens went to the Bishop, and kneeling at his feet, expressed their gratitude to him for what he had done, and implored his blessing. Placing his hands on their heads, he said, "My dear daughters in Christ, attribute not to me, a sinful mortal, that which is due alone to our Merciful Father in Heaven, who has seen fit first to afflict your mother with grievous trials for some wise purpose, and then suddenly to restore her to health, that her soul may be purified so as to enable her to pass through this lower world, untainted by the grosser sins, but, like all fallible mortals, to be still open to lesser temptations, that in the end she may be rendered meet to enter that higher sphere of existence which is reserved for those who live holy lives here below. May God bless you, my dear daughters, tread in the footsteps of your saintly mother, that you also may be made meet for the same inheritance of light." So saying, the Bishop took up his staff, and bidding farewell to the Earl and his family, wended his way, accompanied by Brithunus and the monks, through Westwood to his home at Beverlega.

From this time the two young ladies continued to grow in stature and loveliness of person, as well as in fervent piety and the grace of God. They had sprung up into young womanhood, and many were the suitors for their hands who came fluttering about South Burton, knowing well that, as the Earl had no son, nor was likely to have one, they must, if they survived him, become his co-heiresses. But they refused to listen to the flatteries and protestations of everlasting love of these young fellows, not so much because they saw through the hollowness and feigned nature of their professions of love, but because they had determined to live lives of celibacy, devoted solely to the service of God. St. John made repeated visits to South Burton, and nothing afforded them greater spiritual comfort and holy pleasure than lengthened converse with him on the things that pertain to everlasting life. But a couple of years after the consecration of the church he passed away to his rest and reward, "with his memory overshadowed by the benedictions of mankind," and was buried in the portico of the church of Beverlega, which he had founded.

A few years after this the two maidens, with the full consent of their parents, entered the convent of St. John, at Beverlega, to spend the remainder of their lives in the holy seclusion of the cloister. The Earl was an extensive landed proprietor, with possessions in and about South Burton, and others on the banks of the Hull, near Grovehill, a landing-place of the Romans, and now a suburb of Beverley, with some extensive manufacturing works. When his daughters entered the convent he bestowed upon it the manor of Walkington, lying southward of South Burton and abutting on Beverley Westwood. At the same time he made a grant to the people of Beverlega of a tract of swampy land on the banks of the Hull, to serve as a common pasturage for their cattle. This tract of land, now called Swinemoor, is still held by the burgesses of Beverley, forming one of the four valuable pastures, containing, in the aggregate, nearly 1,200 acres, the property of the freemen of the borough.

There are reasons for believing that a Christian Church existed on the shores of the Beaver Lake, in the wood of Deira, the site of the modern Beverley, in the time of the Ancient British Apostolic Christianity, which had formerly been the scene of the Druidical religion, which was destroyed by the pagan Saxons, and re-edified by St. John the Archbishop. In one of his progresses through his diocese, he came to this clearing in the wood of Deira, with its sacred beaver-lake, formerly called Llyn yr Avanc, now Inder-a-wood, and was struck by its sylvan beauty and its quiet seclusion. He found there a very small wooden church, thatched with reeds, which he determined to restore and enlarge, and founded, in connection with it, a religious house for both sexes—a monastery for men and a nunnery for women. He added to it a choir, and appointed seven priests to officiate at the altar; built the monastery, and endowed it with lands for its support. Hither he retired when enfeebled by age, and here he was buried in the porch of his church in the year 721.

It was to this nunnery that the Sisters Agnes and Agatha went, and after a period of probation, were despoiled of their hair, and assumed the veil of the sisterhood. The religious houses of the Saxons were not the luxurious abodes that they became in after years. The life led there was one of ascetic severity, with bare walls, hard pallets, scanty food of the simplest description, a continuous series of prayers and religious exercises, accompanied by frequent fastings, penances, and fleshly mortification, to all which the two sisters submitted with cheerfulness, as conducive to the spiritual health of their souls. They were never found sleeping when the summons for divine service was sounded forth, and they were ever willing to perform the most menial duties as tending to keep within them a spirit of Christian humility. Their profound piety and rigorous attention to disciplinary matters excited the admiration of the Mother Superior, but never would they lend ear to praises from her lips, lest it should engender spiritual pride, the aim of their lives being to rank as the lowest servants of the servants of Christ. And thus the years passed along in one monotonous but ever-blessed sameness, ever dwelling within the walls and precincts of the nunnery, save on two occasions, when they went to South Burton to attend the funerals of their parents.

It was the eve of the Nativity, a bright starlight night, as that over Bethlehem when the three wise men of the East came thither guided by the wandering star. The nuns were assembled in their chapel for an early service, amongst whom were the two sisters apparently absorbed in divine meditation. The nuns then retired for their evening refection and silent contemplation in their cells until midnight, when the bell summoned them again to the chapel for midnight Mass, which was to usher in the holy day. At this service there was a strange and unwonted omission; the two sisters were absent. "Where are the Sisters Agnes and Agatha?" inquired the Abbess; "surely something has befallen them, else they would not be absent, especially on such an occasion as this. Go and search diligently for them." Every corner of the building and the grounds outside were searched, but in vain; not a vestige of them could be found; and at length, as the hour of midnight was close at hand, the Mass was proceeded with. The following day, that of the Nativity, was devoted to the usual festal, religious duties; but a heaviness of heart pervaded the assembly, as the sisters had not re-appeared, and no tidings of them could be heard.

Days, weeks, and months passed away, and no clue to their mysterious disappearance presented itself until the eve of St. John, their patron saint. The vespers had been sung, with special reference to the coming day, and the nuns had gone out to breathe the air of the summer evening, whilst the Abbess, taking the key of the tower, unlocked the door and went up the stone stairs to the top, a place not much frequented, where she thought to offer up her prayers beneath the open dome of heaven, without any intervening walls. She had just placed her foot on the topmost stair when she was startled at beholding the two sisters lying locked in each other's arms and with upward turned eyes. At the first glance she supposed them to be dead, but a moment after was undeceived by their rising, and saying, "Mother, dear! it will soon be time for the midnight Mass; but how is this? We lay down an hour ago, under the sky of a winter night, but now we have awakened under the setting sun of a summer eve."

"An hour ago! my children," replied the Abbess, "it is now months since you disappeared on the eve of the Nativity, and months since the midnight Mass of the birth of our Saviour was sung. Can it be you have been sleeping here all through the interval?"

"Mother, dear," they replied, after some further questionings and explanations, "we have not been sleeping, we have been transported to heaven, and have seen sights inconceivable to the human eye, and heard music such as has never been listened to in this lower world. The heaven that we have visited is no mere localised spot, but extends throughout infinite space. It possesses no land or water; no mountains and valleys; no rivers, or lakes, or trees, or material objects of any kind; but has picturesque scenery, impalpable and cloudlike, of the most ravishing beauty. It is peopled by myriads of angelic beings and beatified mortals, unsubstantial and etherealised, all of exquisitely symmetrical figures, and with gloriously radiant features, beaming with happiness and smiling with serenity. Unlike the popular opinion, it is not a place of idle lounging and repose, but of intense activity, all being engaged in employments which afford an intensity of pleasurable emotions. The Almighty Father and Creator of all this realm of beauty and of all these glorified creatures it was not possible for us to see with our mortal eyes, but we were perfectly cognisant of His influence and presence everywhere throughout the infinitude of space. But oh! the music! here, on earth, it is termed divine, but our sweetest melodies are but a jarring discord of sounds compared with that of heaven; mortal ear cannot form the faintest conception of its sublime grandeur and unutterable loveliness."

Thus spake they to the astonished Abbess, who at once recognised the fact of their miraculous transportation to the realms of light for a temporary sojourn there, that on their return to earth they might be the means of comforting and encouraging those who by holy lives of asceticism, self-denial, and prayer, were wending their way thitherwards; and she conducted them down to their sister nuns, to whom again they had to narrate the visions that had been vouchsafed to them.

The Sisters further stated that the first spirit they met was the holy St. John, the founder of their convent, whom they immediately recognised, although he had cast off his earthly integuments, and appeared in a glorified form, but in semblance as when he performed the miracle at South Burton.

He welcomed them with affectionate warmth, and told them that their parents were now enjoying the reward of their virtuous and pious lives, but that they could not be permitted to see them until they themselves had finally passed away from earthly life. He further told them that he kept a watchful eye over his town and monastery in Inder-a-wood, with affectionate love, which should be seen in after ages, in the promotion of their prosperity.

The next day the festival of St. John was celebrated in the monastery and church, with more than usual interest and devotion. Towards the close of it—

At the same time the church became lighted up with a supernatural roseate hue, and sounds of celestial music ravished the ears of the assembly. The Sisters were laid side by side by tender and reverent hands in a tomb near the altar of the church, and now—

The tomb of the Sisters was destroyed in the great fire of 1188, which destroyed not only St. John's Church and monastery, but the whole town besides. They were afterwards rebuilt—the Minster in the superb style which it now presents—and it was in remembrance of these sainted Sisters that the uninscribed tomb was placed in the new church.

This legend has formed the subject of an exquisite poem, which appeared in the pages of the Literary Gazette, and has been attributed to the pen of Alaric A. Watts, which, however, is open to doubt.