Footnotes:

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[5] Mr. Parkinson resided at the Hall, Old Bolingbroke, or Bolingbroke, as it was called at that date, the prefix not being then needed to distinguish the old historic market town from its modern offshoot, New Bolingbroke. Old Bolingbroke is noted for the ruins of its ancient castle, where Henry IV. was born, and long ago gave a title to the earls “of that ilk.”[8a] Tradition avers that, shortly before this accident occurred, an old woman passing near the mine heard a raven—(doubtless a carrion crow)—croaking ominously as it sat on the bough of a tree hard by, and that it distinctly uttered these words, “carpse, carpse, carpse” (i.e., corpse), and this she regarded as a certain presage of some fatal occurence. Truly the age of witches and warlocks was not yet passed.[8b] Mr. John Sharpe was father of the late Mrs. Michel Fynes and a relative of Mr. James Sharpe, of Claremont House, Woodhall Spa.[8c] In Lincolnshire dialect “heard” is commonly pronounced so as to rhyme with “appeared,” and this is said to be nearest the Saxon pronunciation.[8d] This was at the time of the Peninsular War, with its prolonged sieges and fearful carnage.[9a] Mr. John Marshall, grocer and draper.[9b] Mr. and Mrs. Michael Fynes—the latter the daughter of Mr. Sharpe, who wrote the foregoing verses—have told the writer of several other instances of the use of the water at this early period.[9c] This tank was unearthed about the year 1875 by some persons who were ratting, and the writer saw it. It was situated at the back of the Bathhouse, and would be, to the best of his recollection, some 12ft. long by 8ft. wide, with a depth of 5ft. It was covered up again, and has (so far as he knows) remained so ever since.[11a] There was a Roman brickyard, about two fields from the Bathhouse, along the pathway which now runs northwards through Coal Pit Wood and skirts Bracken Wood. The pits are still visible where the clay was dug; also the broad “ride,” running east and west through Bracken Wood, near these pits, is said to have been a Roman road.[11b] In the name Kirkstead Wharf, the etymologist will recognise, in the latter portion, the old Norse “wath” or ford. This was probably, at one time, when the river was wider and shallower, a ford for passengers and cattle. There are many places in Yorkshire named Wath, as Wath-on-Dearne, situated on a ford on that river. This is further confirmed by the local pronunciation of the name, which is still Kirkstead Wath, or “the Wath” par excellence. Wath is connected with our word “wade,” and the Latin vadum, a shallow.[11c] The reader may gather some idea of the slowness of travel from the following particulars given to the writer by an old gentleman:—“The carrier’s cart left Horncastle at 8 a.m., arriving at Kirkstead Wath between 12 and 1 p.m.; or between four and five hours for the seven miles. The packet for Boston passed Kirkstead at 2 p.m. and arrived at Boston at 5 p.m. This is now done in about 50 minutes. It would have been easy for a pedestrian to have walked direct from Horncastle to Boston in five hours, whereas by this route it took nine hours.”[12] As a further evidence of the difficulty, or rather the perils, of vehicular traffic in those days, the writer may here mention that he had once the unpleasant experience of being among the passengers of the aforesaid carrier’s cart, when the conveyance was overturned in the ditch, the driver being incapable of performing his duty.[13] I may here mention that the anomaly of “donative” benefices was abolished by Act of Parliament in 1898.[14a] Sir H. Dymoke, Bart., was the last champion who performed the ceremony of throwing down the glove in Westminster Hall at the coronation of the Sovereign.[14b] The land extending from the present schoolhouse nearly to Mill-lane was at that time crown property, with much more in the neighbourhood, since sold.[14c] Mr. Lewin himself presented the handsome pulpit of Caen stone, the carved poppyheads of the seats, and figures of angels in the roof. The corbels, from which the wooden arches spring, were carved by a barber of Boston, named White, one of three brothers of humble origin, all of whom developed talent in different directions: One (Andrew) as an artist in oil-painting of no small merit,—I have seen an oil-painting by him—another in rustic garden work, and the brother in question (Robert), continuing his calling as a barber, employed his spare time in carving in stone. The corbels in the chancel represent the Queen and Archbishop: those in the north wall of the nave bear the arms of the Rev. E. Walter and his wife; those in the south wall the arms of the Dymokes and the Hotchkin family. The reading desk was presented by the writer in memory of his father, the Rev. E. Walter. As a support to the Credence-table in the chancel is a stone with an effigy of a lady abbess of Stixwould Priory. This, with the stone for the church, was given by the late Mr. Christopher Turnor, owner of the Stixwould Estate, from the Priory ruins, and, as from the rude character of the carving it is evidently of very early date, it has been supposed to represent the Lady Lucia, the foundress: unfortunately, the masonry being dug from confused heaps, covered by the soil and turf of ages, was not, in many cases, laid by the builders in its proper “layer” as it was quarried. Consequently damp has penetrated, and frost and thaw have broken it up in many parts of the church walls. The small coloured window by the pulpit was the gift of the writer’s eldest daughter when a child, as a thank-offering on recovering from an accident, in which she providentially escaped death, when thrown, dragged, and kicked by her run-away pony. An engraving of the church, with description and other particulars, is to be found in the “Illustrated London News,” of September 25th, 1817.[15] This syndicate consisted of the Right Honourable Edward Stanhope, M.P. (since deceased), Right Honourable H. Chaplin, M.P., Sir Richard Webster, M.P., T. Cheney Garfit, Esq., Kenwick Hall, Louth, and the Rev. J. O. Stephens, Rector of Blankney.[21a] The date was February 2nd, 1850. £200 reward was offered. The writer has seen the printed proclamation of it. Tasker was buried in the churchyard at Scrivelsby, of which benefice his master was rector.[21b] That he was, most probably, the guilty man is further confirmed by the following incident, vouched for by my informant, who knew him. The keeper at Tattershall, at that time, was a man named Penny. He, for his own reasons, had strong suspicions of the guilt of Kent, but said nothing, as he could not prove it. Several years after, Penny retired from his post as keeper, and took a farm, a few miles distant, in Timberland Fen. The man Kent, on one occasion called upon him to buy some chickens. In the course of conversation, Penny suddenly turned upon Kent, and said, “What a thing it was that you shot Tasker, as you did!” Kent was so taken by surprise, and confused by the remark, that he at once went away without completing his bargain. It is not, however, little remarkable, that, although no one was convicted of this murder, one of the suspected men, a few years later, committed suicide, another left the country, going out to Australia, and a third died of consumption. This looks, presumably, in all three cases, as though conscience was at work, condemning them, although the law was powerless. A tombstone was erected to the memory of Richard Tasker, by his master, in Scrivelsby Churchyard, stating that he “was cruelly murdered” in his service.[24] A cast was taken of “Tiger Tom’s” head, after the execution; and a mould from it now forms an ornament over the door of No. 31, Boston-road, Horncastle: at present occupied by Mr. Arthur Buttery, but formerly the residence of Mr. William Boulton (grandfather of Mr. W. Boulton, landlord of the Great Northern Hotel), who was present at the execution, and obtained the cast at that time. The features are certainly not prepossessing. Another cast is in the possession of Mr. Robert Longstaff, Mareham Road, Horncastle, lately residing at Halstead Hall.[27a] “Over Fen and Wold,” by J. J. Hissey, 1898, p. 290. Mr. Hissey, with his wife, made a driving tour from London to Lincolnshire, and round the county, staying for some days at Woodhall. Anyone who wishes to read a delightfully entertaining account of the chief objects of interest in the county, and in the approach to it, cannot do better than get this book.[27b] So far from Lincolnshire being all on a dead level, there is a stiff gradient on the Great Northern line, as it passes through the county, about 2 miles from Essendine, where an elevation is attained about 10ft. higher than the cross of St. Paul’s Cathedral; and only some 10ft. lower than the highest point, at Grant’s House, near Berwick. On the old Coach-road from London to Edinburgh, the worst hill in the whole distance is that of Gonerby, near Grantham, Lincolnshire. “Over Fen and Wold,” p. 417.[27c] Quoted by Sir Charles Anderson, in his “Pocket Guide to Lincoln.” “Harr” is an old Lincolnshire terra for “fog.” A “sea-harr” is a mist drifting inland from the sea.[28a] Song, 25; date, 1612.[28b] “Over Fen and Wold,” pp. 195–6.[31] The above lists are, of course, only selections. Indeed, on the occasion to which the last list refers, one of the party produced a series of water-colour paintings of wild flowers which are found in the neighbourhood, beautifully executed by Dr. Burgess, of Spilsby, and numbering about 500.[32] In speaking of the silene quinque vulneralis, on a previous page, I said that there was no absolute reason why it should not re-appear in the garden of the Victoria Hotel. The holy thistle is a case in point. Several years ago seeing that it was being steadily exterminated, and that the end was inevitably near, the writer transplanted a root to his own garden. It flourished there through two seasons, but was eventually, by mistake, “improved” away, when the garden beds were being dug over. To his surprise, some years after, a vigorous plant of it was found growing in his kitchen garden among the potatoes. Alas! That also has now gone the way of all thistle flesh.[33] “Bage” is an old Lincolnshire word meaning a sod. In the overseer’s accounts of the neighbouring parish of Roughton occurs this entry twice in the year 1707: “2s. 6d. paid for one day’s work of church moor bages”; i.e., peat cut for fuel.[34a] The birch trees of the neighbourhood, with their silvery bark and light and elegant foliage have been very much reduced in numbers, as the wood is used for “clogs” in the manufacturing districts of Yorkshire and elsewhere.[34b] There is a “Pyewipe” Inn at Lincoln, and Pyewipe Hall, near Kirton-in-Lindsey.[34c] This may seem to the ordinary uninitiated mind to be a stretch of the imagination; but if we are to believe Mr. Cornish, the old practised gunners on our coasts, who make the cries of our wild fowl a life-long study can almost understand them as well as human speech. See “Animals, their Life and Conversation,” by C. J. Cornish.[34d] They also frequented other moorlands in the north of the county, in the neighbourhood of Market Rasen and Caistor.[35] The writer has enjoyed the privilege (often a welcome relief from hard literary, and other labours) of shooting over this ground for more than a quarter of a century, having known it for double that period. His father-in-law had it before him; a genuine sportsman of the old type, being one of a trio, who clung to the last, even far into the seventies, to the old flint gun—the late General Hall, of Sixmile Bottom, near Newmarket, being the second, and I believe the famous sportsman, Sir Richard Sutton, the third, two of whose guns became the property of my father-in-law. Only one man was left in the kingdom who made the flints. A grand weapon was a genuine “flint” of old “Joe” Manton; with plenty of metal, a hard hitter, and often equally serviceable when converted into a breech-loader. Its only drawbacks were, that the exposure of the powder rendered it uncertain in damp weather; and the slowness of ignition; but this latter, to a sportsman who had known no other “arm of precision,” was little hindrance, and naturally, entered into his calculations whenever he pulled trigger.[36a] The writer, from one cause or another, has probably had a unique experience of shooting in the neighbourhood of Woodhall and elsewhere. To say nothing of shooting in nine other counties, he at one time shot over the whole of the Kirkstead estate. During the absence from home of the late owner of the Woodhall estate, T. J. Stafford Hotchkin, Esq., when residing abroad, he, with a friend, shot over all Woodhall. Within the nineties, he, with two others, rented the greater part of the Woodhall shooting for three years. He has shot, at one time or another, in more than 50 parishes in the county. Tempora Mutantur. Probably hard times have had an astringent effect on the hospitality of the shooting fraternity.[36b] I quote from a poem, long ago out of print, written by Richard Ellison, Esq. (of Boultham), entitled “Kirkstead, or the Pleasures of Shooting,” and published in 1837; the proceeds of its sale to be given to the funds of a fancy fair held in aid of Lincoln County Hospital.[38] Another anecdote of the said keeper may here be given, which is amusing. Soon after the above incident he gave notice to quit his place, in order (as he said) to better himself. He had often heard me descant on the charms of grouse shooting and deer-stalking, and he came to me to ask me to help him to a situation in Scotland. I got him the post of keeper on a large moor on the shores of Loch Ness. He was a man with a big head, a bulky body, and with rather weak bandy legs (not unlike many a sketch in “Punch”), and though a good English keeper, and able to stride along through the turnips, in a level country like our own, he was not adapted for mountaineering. One season in the Highlands cooled his ardour, and the very next year he called on me again, being out of place. “Well,” I asked my friend, “how is it you’re here again”? “To tell you the truth, sir,” he replied, “I could not stand those barelegged Highland gillies. [N.B.—He had, himself, no fine calves to show.] They were always a-laughing at me. And their gaelic was worse than Latin and Greek. You’ll never catch me in Scotland again.” We can picture to ourselves the bandy legs bearing the unwieldly body up a steep brae side; stumbling over loose stones, struggling through the tall heather, till breathless he would pause, while the agile gillies would, chuckling, leave him behind; pause and ponder with the conclusion not slowly arrived at, “What a fool I was to leave Woodhall for work like this.” The Sassenach was indeed out of his element on the Scotch hills. He took my advice; picked up a wife half his own age, and now keeps a country public-house, where he can recount his Scotch and other adventures at the bar.[39] This is also confirmed by a writer in the “Naturalist,” of 1895, p. 67. He says the bird “is very erratic in its nesting habits.” He has found its egg in a pheasant’s nest, and in two cases the egg laid on the bare ground. Only last season I myself found an egg lying without any nest.[40] This peculiar protective property is not confined to the partridge, but seems to apply to game birds generally. The keeper on the Woodhall shooting reported to me, on one occasion, that a pheasant had nested close to a footpath, where she was certain to be disturbed, and asked permission to take the eggs to hatch under one of his hens. Mr. E. M. Cole reports in the “Naturalist” of 1892, p. 182, Phasianus Colchicus nest of seven or eight eggs “found May 6th, on the road margin.” Mr. J. Watson, in his book “Sylvan Folk,” says: “A party of ornithologists were trying to get a specimen of the ptarmigan in breeding plumage, but failed up to luncheon time. Sitting down, the lunch was unstrapped from a pony, and a strap fell on a ptarmigan, sitting, actually, under the pony. On another occasion a dog sat down upon the hen ptarmigan, which it had not discovered in the middle of the party.”—“Sylvan Folk,” p. 147, Fisher Unwin, 1889.[42] The writer once witnessed a fight in the air between a kite and a heron. Hearing a confused sound of harsh cries overhead, he looked up, and soon caught sight of two large birds wheeling round and round, each apparently doing its utmost to get above the other. The two, however, were very evenly matched, for, whereas the kite had its strong beak and talons, deadly weapons for seizing and rending when at close quarters, and could make a powerful swoop at his prey—the heron, though an awkward bird in the air, and ungainly in its movements, had yet its long, sharp, bill, with which it could receive its enemy as it were “at point of bayonet,” and even transfix him, should he make a reckless onset. Again and again, when the kite succeeded in getting uppermost, he would make a rapid downward swoop upon the heron; but as he neared the latter, he was forced swiftly to turn aside, to avoid being pierced through by the long bill. This went on for a considerable time, the two birds by turns surmounting each other, until they were lost to view in a cloud; and as to which ultimately gained the day, “witness deponeth not.”

As Mary Howitt prettily says;—

Up, up into the skies,
Thy strenuous pinions go;
While shouts, and cries, and wondering eyes
Still reach thee from below.
But higher and higher, like a spirit of fire,
Still o’er thee hangs thy foe;
Thy cruel foe, still seeking
With one down-plunging aim
To strike thy precious life
For ever from thy frame;
But doomed, perhaps, as down he darts,
Swift as the rustling wind,
Impaled upon thy upturned beak,
To leave his own behind.

To the Heron

[44a] The writer, when the sport of hawking was revived some 40 years ago by the late Mr. Barr, witnessed several trials of his hawks, and himself tried hawking with the sparrow-hawk on a small scale. A great friend of his took up the sport at one time, and spent a good deal of money on it in securing good birds and well trained; but it almost invariably resulted in their getting away. Failing to kill his quarry, the bird would fly wildly about in search of it, thus getting beyond recall, and so would eventually go off and resume its wild habits. After losing a hawk for some days, the writer has caught sight of it again, called it, and swung his “lure” in the air to attract it. The hawk has come and fluttered about him, almost within arm’s length, but carefully eluded being taken; and so, after a little playful dalliance, has flown away again.[44b] Lord Lilford, the great naturalist, states that a pair of owls, with their adult progeny, will, in three months, rid the land of no less than 10,000 vermin; and Frank Buckland states that he found the remains of 20 dead rats in one owl’s nest.[45] Among his various pets the writer has tried to keep owls, but not with success. On one occasion he brought home two young birds, taken from a nest on the moor. They were put into an empty pigeon-cote. The next morning they were found dead, with their claws, in fatal embrace, buried deep in each other’s eyes. At another time he reared a couple, and got them fairly tame. They were allowed to go out at night to forage for themselves. But on one occasion, for the delectation of some visitors, he turned them out in the afternoon before dusk, and (presumably), taking offence at the affront put upon them, they never returned to their quarters. For a time he heard them in the dusk, and when he called they would even hover about him, uttering a low kind of purr but keeping carefully out of his reach.[46a] The writer on Jan. 7, 1899, walking along a footpath, saw a pedlar who was meeting him, suddenly stop, and poke out a sort of bundle from the hedge-bottom with is stick. On coming up to him he asked what he had got. The reply was “One of the varmints that kill the ducks”; i.e., hedgehog. On his saying that he did not believe that the creature did anything of the kind, the pedlar replied, rather indignantly, that he knew an instance where a hedgehog had killed 20 ducks in a night. While, however, claiming for the hedgehog, mainly an insect, or vegetable diet, we are aware that it is open to the soft impeachment, that it does not object, like some of its betters, to an occasional “poached egg,” whether of duck, chicken, or partridge; and cases are on record of its being caught in flagrante delicto, as mentioned by Mr. E. L. Arnold, in his Bird Life in England.[46b] The term “sewer” does not at all imply that this stream was ever used for sewerage purposes. It is a survival from old times, once meaning a drain or water course. Commissioners of sewers were appointed by Henry VIII. under the “Statute of Sewers.” But the same bucolic mind which can see in the most graceful church tower in the kingdom “Boston Stump,” gives the name of “Sewer” to a stream pellucid enough to be a fount of Castaly.[47] There are several other birds occasionally about Woodhall, but they can hardly be counted among the regular denizens of the district. The curlew has recently been seen during a whole season, doubtless nesting somewhere in the neighbourhood, though the nest has not been found. The Green Sand-piper (Totanus Octaopus) frequents some of our ponds, but only as a bird of passage; the writer has occasionally shot them. The Razorbill (Alca Torda) is sometimes blown inland to us. A specimen was caught a few years ago, in an exhausted state, by some boys in Woodhall, and brought to the writer. A Little Auk (Alca Arctica) was caught under similar circumstances some years ago. A specimen of the Scoter, or Surf-Duck (Oidemia perspicillata), was brought to him, exhausted, but alive. He took care of it, and fed it. It recovered, and eventually regained its freedom, and was seen no more. Two stuffed specimens of that rare bird, the Ruff and Reeve, may be seen at the house of Mr. Charles Fixter, farmer, within three fields of the Bathhouse, Woodhall. They were shot by a Woodhall keeper, at Huttoft, near the sea coast.[49] In connection with this decoy, it may be added that, in order to prevent the wild ducks being disturbed, no shooting was allowed anywhere near it. There was a large rabbit warren close by, where a peculiar kind of wild rabbit, black with silver hairs, bred in great numbers. These, as they could not be shot, were caught in large deep pits with trap doors. The skins were exported to Prussia, to make busbies for the soldiers, while the bodies were sent to Hull market. For the entertainment of sporting readers, it may be further mentioned that the relative and his son were “crack” shots. The old gentleman rode a shooting-pony, and fired from his thigh, instead of from the shoulder. A wager was, on one occasion, laid between father and son as to which would miss his game first. They each fired 18 shots before a miss occurred. Which of the two was the defaulter, the writer “deponeth not”; but in either case it was not a bad score. Sir John Astley, in his autobiography, mentions that when he was invalided home from the Crimea, having been wounded in the neck, he, for some time, could not get his arm up, and shot from the thigh, and managed to kill his rabbits. In the case of my relative long practice had made perfect.[53a] Mr. A. E. Pease, M.P., in his volume “Hunting Reminiscences, 1898,” in a chapter on badger hunting, says: “In countries where mange in foxes has become a scourge, the preservation of badgers would do much to remove this plague, for they are wonderful cleansers of earths.”[53b] It is to be hoped that the cruel sport of badger baiting is no longer indulged in, although not many years ago (1888), there appeared in the columns of the “Exchange and Mart,” the following advertisement: “Very fine large badger and baiting cage, in good condition; price 20s.”[54a] Badger hunting, a more legitimate sport, is still carried on in a few rare instances. A friend of the writer, for several years, kept badger hounds in Gloucestershire, where these animals, are still fairly numerous, and the writer still possesses the skin of a badger killed by his hounds. A variety of hounds are used for this sport. There is the “smell dog” to track the quarry by his trail left in the previous night; the pack of more ordinary dogs to hunt him, and the plucky, smaller dog, who “draws” him from his retreat. It takes a good dog to beard the badger.[54b] “Nature Notes, vol. v., 1894, p. 98.”[55a] The late Mr. E. R. Alston, F.Z.S., Selbourne Magazine Vol. ii., p. 169.[55b] Mr. W. Cartmell. Ibidem.[55c] The Rev. E. Adrian Woodruffe-Peacock, F.L.S., F.G.S., secretary of the Lincolnshire Naturalists’ Union, has assured me, that, seeing a pike lying dead on the river bank, with the shoulder eaten away in the above manner, he has watched it for two days, but the otter never returned. And Mr. H. C. Hey, Derwent House, West Ayrton, York, mentions a similar case. (“The Naturalist,” 1895, p. 106). While a writer in The Globe (April 30, 1896) says that he has seen half-a-dozen bream dead on a river bank, from not one of which has the otter taken more than this one bite.[55d] See again Nature Notes, quoted above.[56] To shew that the writer is not “speaking without book” in calling this neighbourhood a stronghold of Reynard in former years, it is sufficient to quote two or three of the entries in the accounts of the Parish Overseer of Woodhall, still preserved in the chest at Woodhall Church.

£

s.

d.

“1806, March 30.—Needham’s boy for a fox

0

1

0

“1806, April 6.—Paid for foxes

0

16

“1814, April 11.—Paid for foxes

1

12

2½”

The slaughter of foxes, even in the 19th century, was thus remunerated at the rate of 1s. each; yet, in Woodhall, they would seem to have been so plentiful, that for such services, with other incidental expenses (such, probably, as traps, &c.), as much as £1 12s. 2½d. was paid in one year. Since those days, there has been a reaction in public sentiment. Nous avons changÉ tout cela, and instead of putting a price on Reynard’s head, we value his brush, and give him general protection.[57] This is confirmed by the late Sir John Astley, who states that, as a boy, he often gave wood-pigeons, rabbits, and rats to a litter of fox cubs, kept by their keeper within a wire fence, and they almost invariably preferred the rat.—“Fifty Years of My Life,” by Sir J. Astley. Vol. i., p. 245.[61] “Hinerarium,” vol. vi., p. 58, 1710.[62a] Part of the Glebe of Kirkby-on-Bain.[62b] I take haphazard two or three entries from my shooting diary, recording the produce of a morning’s walk, alone, on the moor, from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. “Oct. 4, 1874.—9 hares, 8 pheasants, 3 brace of partridges, 2 couple of rabbits, 3 woodpigeons, 2 waterhens.” “Oct. 1877.—10 hares, 7 pheasants, 4½ brace of partridges, 2 woodcock, 2 couple of rabbits.” “Jan. 29, 1878.—5 pheasants, 4 hares, 2 brace of partridges, 2½ couple of rabbits, 3 woodcock, 2 woodpigeon, 1 waterhen, 2 snipe.”[63] The bag that day (Nov. 1877) was 352 hares, 14 pheasants, 8 partridges, 4 rabbits. I also find the following brief entry: “Nov. 7, 1878—Shot with a party in Kirkstead, killing to my own gun nearly 60 hares.” And again, “Oct. 19, 1876. Shot with a friend in Kirkstead, 15 brace of partridges, 6 brace of pheasants, and 10 hares.” To show that the Kirkstead and Tattershall shootings still maintain their excellence, I give here the bag on a more recent occasion. “Oct. 12, 1894.—In Kirkstead a party shot, in the open, 70 brace of partridges, 1 pheasant, and 110 hares.” At Tattershall in the same year a party killed 531 hares in three days. I have mentioned above, the Tattershall shooting as being “nearly as good as that of Kirkstead.” I give here a note or two of sport on that estate: “Sep. 21, 1876.—Shot with Mr. S. (the lessee of the shooting) the Witham side of Tattershall. Bag: 25 hares, 9 brace of partridges.” “Sep. 25.—Shot on the same ground, 7 hares, 26 brace of partridges.” On the Woodhall ground, hares were always few in number, the soil not seeming to suit them; but among partridges I have shared in good sport. I give two entries as samples: “Sep. 16, 1873.—Shot with Captain H. (lessee of the shooting) 30½ brace of partridges and 2 hares.” And again, “Nov. 16, 1872.—Shot for the third day, Bracken Wood. Total bag, rather more than 400 pheasants in the three days; rabbits, over 150, and 20 woodcock.”[65] Other instances of albinos are not uncommon, but more among birds than quadrupeds. I find among my notes the following: “Albino shrew mouse caught at Ackworth, near Pontefract, June, 1895; white robin at Whitby, Jan., 1896; ditto at Boston, Sept., 1898; white woodcock nested in Manby Woods, near Louth, with four young of the usual colour, July, 1892; buff woodcock shot at Bestwood, Nottingham, Feb. 1892; white landrail shot at Kedleston, near Derby, Sept., 1892; white thrush caught at Nidderdale, November 1892; cream-coloured skylark shot near Harrogate, Sept., 1891; white jay—two young specimens shot near York, 1893; white sand martin caught at Killinghall, near Harrogate, July, 1898; at Brackenborough, near Louth, there were two coveys of partridges, in the season of 1896–7, with white specimens among them: and at Stonehouse, in Gloucestershire, a covey of mixed white and brown partridges were reported in 1897. A buff hare was shot near Bourne in 1897.” A white black-buck was killed by a friend in Kattiawar, India, in 1897, and I have a stuffed specimen of buff blackbird, caught some years ago in the vicarage garden at Woodhall: the parent birds having buff young two seasons in succession.[67] In the Southdowns, the hills are called “Downs,” and the valleys “Deans,” or sometimes by the Devonshire term “Coomb.”[69] Essays on Natural History, Third Series, p. 169. Ed. 1857.[71a] Gilbert White mentions this habit of “snakes stinking, se defendendo. A friend (he says) kept a tame snake, in its own person as sweet as any animal; but as soon as a stranger, a cat, or a dog entered the room, it fell to hissing, and filled the room with such nauseous effluvia as rendered it hardly supportable.” Natural History, Selbourne, p. 90. Ed. 1829.[71b] Brusher, a well-known character in the New Forest, Hampshire, says he has seen hundreds of snakes swallow their young in time of danger. “The New Forest,” by R. C. de Crespigny and Horace Hutchinson.[74] Several kinds of fish which we now think coarse or insipid, would doubtless become, through the culinary skill of the monastic chef “savoury dishes” such as even a lordly abbot’s soul might relish. For the benefit of readers who may like to try the fish of our district under most favourable conditions, I here give two or three recipes for cooking them. Francatelli, no mean authority, says, “a pike cooked properly can hold its own against many fish from the sea.” Boiled with horseradish sauce and mustard it makes an excellent dish. Perch, with sorrel sauce and mayonnaise, is equally good. Carp, fried with butter, is excellent. Chub, taken in frosty weather, are firm, at other times rather flabby, but treated in either of the above ways they are more than palatable. Roach, cooked on a gridiron, with butter, make a nice breakfast. Tench, with port wine sauce, are a luxury. Eels, though despised in Scotland, are very good stewed.[76a] Lincoln Records, quoted in Sir Charles Anderson’s “Pocket Guide of Lincoln,” p. 107. The spelling “wesh” agrees with the local pronunciation of the present day.[76b] Mr. S. Cheer, of Horncastle.[76c] Mr. W. Bryant, of Horncastle.[78] Rev. C. D. Ash, Skipwith Vicarage. Naturalist, 1896, pp. 302 and 303.[79a] Mr. J. Watson, in his very interesting book, “Sylvan Folk,” states (p. 232) that a single swan will destroy a gallon of trout ova in a day.[79b] Mr. W. Bryant.[79c] Aaron Rushton.[80a] This fine specimen of the salmo fario was bought by the late Rev. J. W. King, of sporting celebrity, to put into the lake at Ashby-de-la-Launde, to improve the breed of trout there.[80b] In one part of “The Brook,” the Laureate has taken a “poetic licence,” when he says:

“I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing.
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling.”

There are no grayling in the Somersby beck.[81] For brothers “of the cloth” with piscatorial proclivities, who visit Woodhall, the writer would point to this means of healthful relaxation, which he can recommend from experience. Any qualms of the clerical conscience as to the legitimacy of such an avocation—a wholesome calling away from graver duties—may be set at rest on episcopal, and even archi-episcopal, authority. The late Archbishop Magee was an ardent fisherman, and would go on flogging on Irish lough or river, even though he did not get a single rise. (See “Life of W. Connor Magee,” by J. C. McDonnell.) And the writer once read, with much enjoyment, an article on salmon fishing in the “Quarterly Review,” which was attributed to the versatile pen of the Bishop of Winchester, better known as “Samuel of Oxford,” who sought occasional relief from his almost superhuman labours on the banks of a Highland river.[84a] The exception to which allusion is here made is the village of South Scarle, about six miles from Lincoln, where a deep boring was made in 1876, in search of coal. The depth attained was 2,029 feet, or nearly twice that of the Woodhall well; but as only the upper layer of the coal measures was thus reached, and it was calculated that actual coal would be some 1,600 feet lower still, or a total depth of 3,600 feet, the boring was abandoned. The strata passed through were found to be as follows: Alluvial or drift, 10ft.; lower lias clay and limestone, 65ft. rhoetic beds, 66ft.; the three triassic formations, new red marl (Keuper), lower keuper sandstone, new red sandstone, 1,359ft.; upper permian marls, upper magnesian limestone, middle permian marls, lower magnesian limestone, permian marl slates, with basement of breccia, 619ft.; and upper coal measures, 10ft.; total, 2,029ft.[84b] See end of Chapter I. on The History of the Well.[85a] We have the testimony of two of the labourers employed in the shaft (Cheeseman and Belton) who agree in giving this depth. They also state that the particular stratum was 54ft. thick; that the set of the current was from south-east to north-west, running from a crack in one side of the shaft into a corresponding crack in the opposite side, and that they both assisted in making a brick and cement lining to the shaft, leaving a channel behind for the water to run round half the circumference, from crack to crack.

[85b] We may further add that it is at the junction of the Northampton sand with the underlying lias, that we find numerous springs in other parts of the county; as at Navanby, Waddington, Lincoln, Blyborough, Kirton, and several other places. The Government “Geological Survey Memoir” for the country around Lincoln (p. 208) agrees in saying that the Woodhall water comes from the “inferior oolite” which comprises the Northampton sands.[87a] “Life of Nansen, 1881–1893,” by W. C. BrÖgger and Nordahl Rolfsen. (Longmans, 1896, pp. 350–357).[87b] Ibidem, p. 139.[88a] Ibidem, p. 123.[88b] This subject has been fully gone into by Mr. P. F. Kendall, F.G.S., in his article “The Cause of an Ice-age,” contributed to the “Transactions of the Leeds Geological Association,” part viii. Other ice-streams also passed down various alleys from Teesdale to Airedale, and the Ouse.[88c] See an article “On the Occurrence of Shap Granite Boulders in Lincolnshire,” by Mr. W. T. Sheppard, in the “Naturalist” of 1896, pp. 333–339. Also the “Presidential Address to the Yorkshire Naturalists’ Union,” by J. Cordeaux, F.R.G.S., M.B.O.U., in the “Naturalist” for 1897, pp. 195, 6. See also a very interesting article in the “Fortnightly Review,” November, 1863, on “The Ice-age and its Work,” by A. R. Wallace, F.R.S.[89a] Mr. J. Cordeaux gives this thickness in the “Naturalist” (1897, p. 186). Professor J. Geikie says it “did not exceed 3,500ft. or 4,000ft. at most, and would take 3,000ft. as an average.” (“The Glacial Period and Earth Movement,” a paper read before the Victoria Institute in 1893. Trans. No. 104, pp. 221–249, where also the question is largely considered of the causes of the Ice-age).[89b] Mr. Wallace says; “Every mountain group, north of the Bristol channel, was a centre from which, in the Ice-age, glaciers radiated; these became confluent, extensive ice-sheets, which overflowed into the Atlantic on the west, and spread far over the English lowlands on the east and south.” “The Ice-age and its work.”—“Fortnightly Review,” Nov., 1893, p., 269.[90] Quoted by Mr. Wallace in “The Fortnightly,” p. 630.[91a] Quoted from “Glacialist’s Magazine,” “Fortnightly Review,” Nov., 1893, p. 631.[91b] A list of Scandinavian boulders, which have been found in Lincolnshire is given by Mr. T. Sheppard, in the “Glacialists’ Magazine,” vol. iii, 1895, p. 129. Notices of lakeland boulders are given in the “Naturalist” of 1897, pp. 67, 103–104, 195–6, 283–4; and of 1898, pp. 17–20,85–87, 133–138, 221–224. In the Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society for May, 1885, Mr. Jukes Brown gives the general range of the boulder clay in Lincolnshire, while its range of flanking rocks in our own more immediate neighbourhood is treated of in the Government Geological Survey of “Lincoln and the Country around,” pp. 2, 122–129, 155, 156.[91c] The average rate of a glacier has been computed at 64 inches for the four summer months; in other cases one inch a day. The progress, of course, varies with the slope or smoothness of its bed, and is more rapid in the centre than at the sides, where it scrapes against flanking rocks.[92] Sydney B. J. Skertchly, F.G.S., joint author of a valuable work, entitled “The Fenland, Past and present.”[93a] Geological Survey, p. 79.[93b] At Bardney, Baumber, Horncastle, West Ashby, and Fulletby, &c. Geological Survey, 79–81.[93c] These beds of inflammable shale are also found on the coast of Dorset, and are worked by levels driven into the cliff. This clay indeed receives its name Kimeridge, from a Dorset village, on the coast, near Corfe Castle and Poole.[94a] Mr. Jeans, in “Murrey’s Handbook of Lincolnshire,” [p. 6] puts the total thickness of the various cretaceous formations at “about 1,000ft.”[94b] Geological Survey, pp. 207–209.[95a] Ibedem.[95b] Quarterly Journal, Geol. Soc., vol. xxxi., p. 125.[95c] Geological Survey, pp. 202–206.[95d] Geological Survey, pp. 203–206.[95e] Ibidem.[96a] Ibidem, pp. 198–222.[96b] White’s Dictionary of Lincolnshire. Article on the Geology by W. J. Harrison, F.G.S.[97a] Quoted Ibidem.[97b] Geolog. Survey Memoir of S. Yorks and N. Linc. p. 3.[97c] Mr. F. M. Burton, F.L.S., F.G.S., Naturalist, 1894, p. 251. In “A Selection of Papers relative to the County of Lincoln,” read before the Lincolnshire Topographical Society, published by W. and B. Brooke, 1843, there is a paper by W. Bedford on the Geology of Lincoln. He divides the rocks into 26 beds, commencing from the north of the Cathedral and descending to the bed of the Witham. He gives a very interesting coloured section, showing these different strata, where the springs arise beneath the oolite; then the ferruginous gravels, the clunch clay, and the lias underlaying all.[97d] Geolog. Survey, “Around Lincoln,” pp. 33–35.[98a] Article on Geology, White’s Lincolnshire, p. 70.[98b] Ibidem.[98c] Taken from a paper read by Surgeon-Major Cuffe, V.D., before the British Medical Congress, held in London, August, 1895.[99a] The original analysis of Mr. West gave some properties not noticed by Professor Frankland as follows:—

In one gallon.

Chloride of Sodium

1,215,175

„ Potassium

2,453

„ Magnesium

86,146

„ Calcium

105,001

Bromide of Sodium

5,145

Iodide of Sodium

2,731

Bi-carbonate of Soda

45,765

Carbonate of Lime

9.381

,, Iron

0.277

Silica

0.339

[99b] Smith’s Dict. of Bible. Art., “The Salt Sea,” and The Dead Sea and Bible Lands,” by F. de Saulcy.[99c] Geolog. Survey Memoir, p. 210.[99d] Information by R. Harrison, at one time resident at the farm where the well was sunk. Geolog. Survey, p. 205.[99e] The Roman generals are supposed to have imported Belgian workmen, and by their aid, with their own soldiers, and the forced labour of the Britons, to have made the huge embankments, of which there are remains still existing in “The Roman Bank,” near Sutterton and Algarkirk, Bicker, and other places. The Car Dyke, skirting the Fens, on the west, some four miles from Kirkstead, was their work, and a few miles westward is Ermine Street, the great Roman highway, which stretches from Sauton on the Humber to London.[101a] The revolution effected in the drainage of the Fens was not accomplished without considerable and even violent opposition on the part of many of the inhabitants, who thought that their interests were being ruthlessly disregarded, and in some cases even their means of subsistence destroyed. The state of affairs at this period, and the measures resorted to, are very graphically described in the historic novel, “A daughter of the Fens,” written by Mr. J. T. Bealby. This book the present writer would recommend to visitors to our Lincolnshire health-resort, as likely to give them an interest in the neighbourhood.[101b] Mr. H. Preston, F.G.S., of Grantham, goes into the matter rather fully in the “Naturalist” of 1898, pp. 247–255; as also Mr. F. M. Burton, F.L.S., F.G.S., of Gainsborough had previously done, in the “Naturalist” of 1895, pp. 273–280.[102] Dr. Oliver (in his “Religious houses on the Witham,” appendix pp. 165–167) says: “The honours of the Witham may be inferred, not only from the consecrated spots and temples (once existent) on its banks, but from its very names. It was called Grant-avon, or the divine stream; and Cwaith-Ket, i.e. the work or river of “Ket” (Ked or Keridwen, the Druid goddess Ceres). Ket survives in Catley, not far from the Witham. The river was worshipped as her embodiment. Oliver adds: “The sacred places on its banks were more numerous, perhaps than those of any other river in Britain.” It will be apparent, to anyone that the name Witham is not a river name at all, but that of a village, the village near which the river rises. In the time of Leland, the antiquary (circa 1550) it was known as the Lindis. He says: “There be four ferys upon the water of Lindis betwixt Lincoln and Boston. Shut (Short) Fery, Tatershaul Fery, Dogdick Fery, Langreth Fery” (quoted by Mr. G. Sills, Archl. His. Wash., “Lin. N. and Q.,” Nat. His. section, July, 1897, p. 108). But Mr. Taylor tells us (in his “Words and Places,” p. 130) that “throughout the whole of England there is hardly a single river name which is not Celtic,” and accordingly the Celtic name of the Witham was Grant-avon (avon meaning “river”), while the town upon it was Grantham. It was also known by the names “Rhe” and “Aye,” the former Celtic, the latter Saxon or Danish. “Lin. N. and Q.,” vol. ii., p. 222.[103a] “Introduction to vol. on “The Geology arounde Lincoln.” Government Geolog. Survey Memoir.[103b] “Naturalist,” 1895, p. 274.[103c] The late Mr. W. H. Wheeler, one of our ablest engineers, held the opinion that there was a time when the Witham, by a somewhat similar process, instead of passing through “the Lincoln Gap,” if it then existed, found its way through a low tract of country northward into the Trent, and so passed out into the Humber. See “Lincolnshire Notes and Queries,” vol. i., pp. 53, 54, and 213. It would almost seem that the poet Drayton had an idea of something of this kind, when he says of the Witham—

“Leaving her former course in which she first set forth,
Which seemed to have been directly to the north,
She runs her silver front into the muddy fen
. . . coming down,
. . . to lively Botolph’s town.”

Polyolbion, song xxv.

It may here be added that the antiquary, Stukely, who at one time lived at Boston was of opinion, that the Witham, at one period, diverged from its present channel a little below Tattershall, about Dogdyke, to the east, and through various channels, which are now drains, found its way to Wainfleet and there debouched into the sea. And an old map of Richard of Cirencester, in the 14th century, confirms this.[105a] “Naturalist,” 1895, pp. 230, 231.[105b] This “celt,” as they are called, has been exhibited by the writer at more than one scientific meeting. It is still in the possession of Mr. Daft, who would doubtless be glad to show it to any one wishing to see it.—N.B.—the term “celt” is not connected with the name Celtic or Keltic, but is frem a Latin word celtis, or celtes; meaning a chisel, and used in the Vulgate, Job xix., 24, the classic word is coelum.[106a] Gov. Geolog. Survey, “Country round Lincoln,” p. 161, now in the possession of Mr. Fox, land surveyor, of Coningby.[106b] S. B. J. Skertchly, “Fenland,” p. 344.[107] A representation of Chaucer on horseback, in a MS. on vellum, of the Canterbury Tales, in the possession of the Duke of Sutherland, and reproduced as a frontispiece to “Illustrations of the lives of Gower and Chaucer,” by H. J. Todd, F.S.A., 1810, shows the anelace hanging from a button on the breast of his surcoat. It was usually worn at the girdle, except in the case of ecclesiastics. M. Paris mentions Petrus de Rivallis as “gestans anelacium ad lumbare, quod clericum non decebat.” The present writer possesses what he believes is an anelace, which was found among the ruins of a cottage on the Kirkstead Abbey estate some 25 years ago. He exhibited it at a meeting in London of the ArchÆological Institute, in November, 1882, where it was described as a “beautiful knife handle, decorated with nielli of Italian character.” It is of blue enamel, beautifully chased with an elegant filigree pattern in silver. It has also been pronounced by an authority to be Byzantine work. As being found near the ruins of Kirkstead Abbey, we might well imagine it to have hung at the girdle, or from the breast, of some sporting ecclesiastic; and to have belonged to the jewelled blade,

Wherewith some lordly abbot, in the chase,
Gave to the deer “embossed” his coup de grace.

[108a] The conserving properties of the mud ooze is remarkable. The “Philosophical Transactions” mention a human body dug up in the Isle of Axholme, of great antiquity, judging by the structure of the sandals on its feet, yet the skin was soft and pliable, like doe-skin leather, and the hair remained upon it.-—“Lincs. N. & Q.” Vol. III., p. 197.[108b] This relic of not less that 1700 years ago is further interesting from the fact that the bone, of which it is made, was proved to be that of a horse, yet the horse must have been smaller than any of the present day, except the Shetland pony. The Britons are known to have had horses of great size, which excited the admiration of CÆsar; which survived in the huge war-horse carrying the great weight of the mail-clad Norman knight in the active exercises of the tournament; and the descendants of which are the Shire horses of to-day.—“The Old English Warhorse,” by Sir Walter Gilbey. We may add here, as an interesting fact, that there is evidence to show that the horses of our neighbourhood were specially valued, as far back as the time of the Commonwealth. Cromwell wrote to an acquaintance, “I will give you sixty pieces for that black [horse] you won [in battle] at Horncastle”; and on the acquaintance not jumping at the offer, he wrote again, “I will give you all you ask for the black you won the last fight.”—Quoted, “Animals and their Conversations,” p. 85, by C. J. Cornish.[108c] The bolt of a crossbow was forged square, hence its name “quarrel,” from “carre,” or “quarre,”—square.—“Lincs. N. & Q.” Vol. IV, p. 21.[108d] The Roman lituus is supposed by antiquarians to have been adopted from barbarous nations, the serpentine form indicating the object of their worship. The serpent was held sacred among the Druids of Britain.[110a] “ArchÆological Journal,” No. VII., Sept., 1845, p. 253. The dimensions of the chest were 16 inches square by 8½ inches high; the interior 12 inches square. The height of the urn was 7 inches; its diameter at the widest part, 7 inches; diameter of mouth, 4 inches.[110b] At the restoration of the Parish Church in 1864, in making some alterations in the floor of the chancel, a lead coffin was found below, said to have been that of Lady Jane Dymoke. It was temporarily removed during the operations, but orders were given that it should be re-interred. Before, however, these instructions could be carried out, it mysteriously disappeared, and doubtless found its way to the melting-pot.[111] “Proc. Soc. Antiq.” 1849, 1st series, 57. The finding of the Horncastle coffins is described in “The Reliquary and Illustrated ArchÆologist,” April, 1897.[112a] In Norwich one of the principal thoroughfares is named “Rampant Horse Street.” To this same superstition also we owe the huge figures of the white horse cut in the turf at Bratton Castle and at Oldbury Camp, both in Wiltshire. Tacitus speaks of “immolati diis abscissum equi caput.”[112b] Quoted, “Surtees Society Publications,” vol. lxxvi.[112c] Weir’s “History of Horncastle,” p. 27.[113] “Provincial Words of Lincolnshire.”[114a] An old Lincolnshire term for a male elf is “Tom-tut,” which may be a corruption of Tom-cat. A person in a rage is said to be “quite a Tom-tut,” or spitfire, like a cat spitting. In connection with “shag,” we may add that there is a sea bird frequenting some of our coasts called a “Black-shag.” Another explanation of Tab-shag, which has been suggested is that “Tab” is another word for turf sods, and sods used to be cut on the moor for fuel.[114b] “Facts and Remarks relative to the Witham, &c.” by W. Chapman, p. 18. A large anchor was also dug up at a considerable depth, indicating that large vessels also ascended the river to Lincoln.[115a] Thompson’s “Boston,” p. 126.[115b] Letter from Sir Joseph Banks to the Editor of the “Journal of Science and Art,” No. ii., p. 224.[116] There was a wood called Synker Wood, which extended from within 100 yards of Kirkby lane, westward to the Tattershall road skirting the boundary between the parishes of Kirkstead and Thornton, having at the east end of it Synker Wood House. South of this wood, near the Tattershall road, was a lee, or strip of grass land: and south of that again, and opposite the present larger farm house, there was another smaller wood called the Synker Pool Wood. Of this there is one solitary oak left still standing, about 20 yards from the road; and it was some yards eastward of this tree that the boat was found.[118a] Account of trees found under ground in Hatfield chase. “Philosoph, Transactions,” No. 275, p. 980[118b] Richard of Cirencester (circa a.d. 1380) says of them, Coitani in tractu sylvis obsito (habit-antes). Some writers, following Ptolemy, call them Coritani, others Coriceni, but the learned Dr. Pegge prefers Coitani, as a name in harmony with the “circumambient woods,” Coed being still Welsh for wood.[118c] “Flores Historiarum,” a.d. 1377.[118d] Brooke’s “Lincoln,” p. 14.[119a] Brooke, Ibid. But the earliest record of a stone church in the British Isles is that built by St. Ninian, first Bishop of Scotland. a.d. 488, at Witherne, in Galloway. Bede, “Eccles. Hist.,” book iii., ch. iv.[119b] “Egregii opperis,” Bede, “Eccles. Hist.,” book i. p. 32.[119c] Weir’s “Hist. Lincolnshire,” vol i., p. 32.[120a] A fine copy of Magna Charta, is still preserved among the Archives of the Cathedral.[120b] In the preamble to a Charter granted to the city (4 Charles I.) Lincoln is called “one of the chiefest seats of our kingdom of England for the staple and public market of wool-sellers and merchant strangers, &c.” There came into the writer’s possession a few years ago a curious relic, consisting of a terra cotta cube, light red in colour, each of the six sides being 1¾ inches square, and having each a different, deeply-cut, pattern; crosses of different kinds, squares, or serpentine lines. It was found in a private garden in Lincoln, and was pronounced to be a stamp for bales of wool. I exhibited it before the Linc. Architectural Society, the Society of Antiquaries, &c.; and ultimately presented it to the British Museum.[120c] The number of monasteries closed by Henry VIII. was 645, containing some 20,000 religious persons.[121a] Anderson’s “Pocket Guide,” pp. 119–121.[121b] Anderson, p. 126.[121c] Letter written to Mr. Page, who was Mayor of Lincoln in that year.[122] “Brooke’s “History,” pp. 56, 56.[125] Brooke’s “History, pp. 55, 56.[126a] Demesne is an old Norman compound word. “The Mesne” was “the Lord of the Manor” (conf. Fr. “mener” and “menager”—to command), and “de-mesne” was the land “of the lord.” In this case, the “mesne” was originally the Baron Eudo, to whom the Conqueror gave the manors of Tattershall and Kirkstead, with certain appendages, of which Woodhall, or a large portion of it, would seem to have been one; for, when his son Brito endowed the Abbey of Kirkstead, he assigned to it two parts of the manor of Woodhall, and the advowson of the benefice.[126b] It was customary, where feasible, to thus connect the moat with running water, to avoid complete stagnation, and so to keep the water more healthy.[127] The writer has also an old map, undated, but belonging to a Dutch History of “Lincolnshire” or “Nicolshire,” probably published in the sixteenth century; also another old map, inscribed “Fodocus Hondius cÆlavit Anno Domini 1610,” as well as another by Christophorus Saxton, undated; in all of which Buckland is given instead of Woodhall.[128a] The Abbot of Bardney had a hunting establishment at Bardney Vaccary; and why not the powerful Abbot of Kirkstead also, who possessed the right of “free warren” over many thousands of acres; in the Wildmore Fen alone about 45,000 acres.[128b] That this supposition is correct would seem to be shewn by fact that this property—High-hall wood and land adjoining—still belongs to the Earls of Fortescue, who now own the manor of Tattershall, the estates having gone together since the days of Eudo, in the Conqueror’s time. In the Award Map, one of the fields in Woodhall just outside the High-hall property, is named “Priests’ Moor,” probably as marking the limit of the Church (formerly the Abbey) estate, as distinguished from the land of the Baron. The Abbots’ land in Woodhall was, at the Dissolution, given to the Bishops of Lincoln, and only enfranchised from them in the year 1868. The writer has in his possession a copy of the deed, conveying, in the first year of Edward VI., the rectorial rights and appurtenances of Woodhall to Henry Holbeach, at that time Bishop of Lincoln, and his successors, “post mon. de Kirksted nuper dissolutum.”[129] The pistol was originally a German invention, so named because its calibre corresponded with the diameter of the old coin, “pistole.” They were first used by German cavalry at the battle of Renty (1554), and contributed greatly to the defeat of the French. After that they were introduced into the French army, and later into the English. They were at first furnished with a matchlock, and fired by a match. This was followed by a wheel-lock, wound up like a clock, and having a piece of iron pyrite, and later, a piece of flint, for producing ignition. The wheel-lock was superseded by the trigger and the hammer, still with flint. The percussion cap, invented by the Scotchman, Alexander Forbes, was introduced about 1820 (“Notes on Arms and Armour,” by C. Boutell). The pistol found at High-hall is inscribed with the two French words “Shermand Brevete” (patentee). The earliest pistol preserved in the United Service Museum is supposed to date from Charles I. (Haydn, “Dict. of Dates”), and it is known that, at that period, the French gunsmiths were much in advance of the English.[131] Series ii., 1600–1617, p. 30, No. 34, edited by Rev. A. R. Maddison, 1891.[133] It may occur to some to wonder for what purpose the Lord Clinton could need so many as “1,000 kiddes”; and as a probable answer we may say that, in those days, coal was not in universal use, as it is now. Peat-sods, called in Lincolnshire “bages,” and wood, were the ordinary fuel. Hence we find frequent mention of the right of “Turbary,” i.e., of cutting turf on certain lands, as a valuable privilege. At such an extensive establishment as Tattershall Castle, then at least three times its present size, there would be no small number of persons needing fire-warmth. The old writer, William of Worcester, (“Itinerarium,” p. 162), tells us that the Lord Treasurer Cromwell’s household consisted ordinarily of 100 persons, and that, when he rode to London, his retinue was commonly 120 horsemen (Weir’s “Hist.” vol. i. p. 304, ed. 1828). The beautiful mantelpieces still remaining in the castle, embellished with his arms, and the proud motto, “Ne j’ droit?”—“Have I not right?” are famed throughout the kingdom; and on the spacious hearths beneath them the smouldering peat and blazing faggot would yield welcome warmth to guests and retainers reclining before them, wearied with the varied labours of the day: days, indeed, we may well believe, by no means monotonous, when it is remembered that, besides the sport of hunting and hawking, the Lord Clinton’s followers were not uncommonly engaged in predatory strife (of which I shall presently give instances) with neighbours hardly less powerful than himself. By way of adding note to note, I may here say that, among the poor, cheaper kinds of fuel were in use than the peat and faggot. Cow-dung was dried in brick-shaped blocks, which were called “dythes”; or sheep-dung into “brocks,” and stacked like peat for burning. I have spoken with old people, in the marsh, who remember both these being in common use.[134] There is a prevalent tendency to pronounce, in a general and uncritical fashion, many things to be “Roman” which are only ancient and of indefinite date; an easy way of getting out of a difficulty. Possibly we may trace to this source the origin of the Lincolnshire expression, descriptive of anything or anybody out of the ordinary, that it is, or he is, or she is, “a rum un.”[137] I may, perhaps, here explain that “non-jurors” were those persons who considered that James II. was unjustly deposed, and who refused to swear allegiance to William III. and his successors. Non-jurors were subjected to double taxation, and obliged to register their estates (1723); and from the first were excluded from any public office. I may also here state that the Sir Richard Morrison who is named in this epitaph was a man of great learning, and employed by Henry VIII. and Edward VI. in several embassies to the greatest princes in Europe (Camden’s “Britannia,” p. 302). He was also appointed “President of Mounster in Ireland.” He had a brother, Fynes Morrison, who was fellow of Peterhouse, Cambridge, who obtained from his college permission to travel, and spent eight years in foreign parts. On his return he went to Ireland and became secretary to Sir Charles Blount, the Lord Lieutenant. There he wrote an account, in Latin, of his “Travels through the twelve dominions of Germany, Bohemia, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Denmark, Poland, England, Scotland and Ireland.” These he afterwards translated into English, but they were not published till three years after his death, which occurred in 1614. His works are a treasury of old-time information, and he is named in the second volume of “Magna Britannia” among the learned men whom our county has produced.[138] It is a coincidence which seems to merit a note, that on the very day on which these lines were penned it was the writer’s duty to unite in the bonds of wedlock a young woman whose mother’s maiden-name was Fynes, to her cousin, Charles Fynes: their common grandfather, Charles Pelham Fynes, a fine sample of the old English yeoman, having been, as well as two of his sons, the tenant of land held under the writer, and under his father before him, during many years.[139] This font which is old Norman, plain, but massive, was, some years ago, taken away from its position at Poolham, and, by way of rescuing it from destruction, was placed as an ornamental relic in the garden of Whispington Vicarage, by the late Rev. C. P. Terrot who was, in his day, one of our greatest antiquaries. When the writer restored Woodhall Church, in 1893, the font in that church being of no architectural value, he obtained the gift of this ancient font and restored it to its original religious purpose, where it now stands, supported by four handsome columns of serpentine, the gift of the Rev. J. A. Penny, the present Vicar of Whispington. The gravestone here referred to was taken away some years ago, and now forms the sill of a cottage doorway in Stixwould.[142a] He sold Tetford to George Anton, Esq., through whose daughter Elizabeth, married to Sir Edward Hussey, that property passed to the Hussey family, the head of which was Lord Hussey of Sleaford, who, for his treachery at the time of the Lincolnshire Rebellion, was attainted and beheaded by Henry VIII., as were also the Abbots of Kirkstead and Barlings, and many more. He sold Somersby to George Littlebury (to whom there is a memorial tablet in the church), a younger son of Thomas Littlebury of Stainsby. These Littleburys, again, Sir John of Stainsby, with Humphrey of Hagworthingham, and Robert his brother, were all mixed up with the Lincolnshire Rising; so, also, was their relative, Andrew Gedney, “lord of Oxcombe and of Bag Enderby” (of whom, and his wife Dorothy, there is a mural monument in the church), who married a daughter of Sir William Skipwith of South Ormsby; so, also, were the Dightons, Robert of Stourton and Thomas of Waddingworth, all in this neighbourhood; so, also, was William Dalyson, of a very old family (D’Alencon) of Laughton; with scores more: John Savile of Poolham, Vincent Welby of Halstead Hall, Stixwould; several Dymokes, Heneages, Massingberds, Tyrwhitts, &c., &c. But these are mentioned here because the Littleburys, the Gedneys, the Dightons and the Dalysons, were connected, in one way or another, with the family, on one side, of the present writer. He may further add here, in connection with the Saviles, that when the first Napoleon was expected to invade England, a Company of Volunteer Grenadiers was raised in the loyal town of Pontefract, of which a Savile, Lord Mexborough, was Colonel Commandant, and the writer’s grandfather, George Pyemont, of Tanshelf House, of Methley and Rothwell, was Major. The Major’s sword hangs on the dining-room wall at Langton Rectory.[142b] Thoroton’s “Hist. of Notts.,” vol. iii., p. 360.[142c] “Collin’s Peer.,” vol. i., p. 207. This Denzil Hollis, or Holles, is mentioned in the list, given at the “Spittle Sessions,” March 1, 1586–7, of those gentry who supplied “launces and light hors,” as furnishing ij. horse, being “captaine”; John Savile of Poolham furnishing “ij. launces and ij. horse.”[142d] “Illustrations of English History.”[143a] “Lansdown MSS.” 27, Art. 41.[143b] This would be the present Halstead wood, on the western side of Stobourne; the ditch, or sto-bourne, running between the two is the bourne or boundry of the two parishes, Woodhall and Stixwould (or Halstead), where the Welbys lived at that time. The first syllable of Sto-bourne would be “stow” or “stoc” a “stake” or post, marking the boundary; oftener used as a suffix than a prefix, as in Hawkstow, Chepstow, Woodstock, &c.[143c] Thomas Metham of Metham. The chief seat of the Methams was Bullington Priory. A George Metham was executor, with Andrew Gedney, to Sir William Skipwith’s will proved 31st March, 1587. Metham’s letter, quoted above, is given in the “Lansdown MSS.” 27, Art. 32.[144] “Lansdown MSS.” 27, Art. 41.[145] These details are given in a Paper on “The feuds of Old Lincolnshire Families,” by Lord Monson (“Proceedings of ArchÆol. Institute, Lincoln,” 1848).[146] There is a common tendency to give a far-fetched origin to ancient structures and things, to make them more remarkable; but the skill and economy of the old builders often lay in utilising and making the most of material at hand. The bricks of Tattershall Castle have been said to be Dutch, and brought up the Witham from the “Low Countries” in exchange for other commodities; but a geologist assures me that both the bricks and the mortar at Tattershall, when examined, shew a native origin; and, so, doubtless, the bricks of Halstead are “born of the soil” of the locality.[149a] To show that I am not here speaking “without book,” I may cite the following:—Some years ago a bundle of papers were found among the Archives at Lincoln, stitched together, and much damaged by time. They proved to be “Letters of indulgence,” issued by Bishop Dalderby of Lincoln, in which he instructed the Deans to enjoin the clergy throughout their deaneries to make it known, on Sundays and other festivals, that money was needed to complete the central tower of the Cathedral, and that indulgences and other privileges would be granted (indulgencias multiplices, et alia Suffragia) to any who should contribute to this object (qui ad constructionem campanilis contulerint subsidia.) This mandate was dated Stowe-park vii. 1d. Marcii a.d. mcccvi. Among these papers was found a letter of indulgence from John, Bishop of Carlisle, dated Horncastle, May 12, 1305 (that Prelate then having a palace at Horncastle, on what are now the premises of Mr. Lunn, grocer), and a similar document from Walter, Archbishop of Canterbury, dated Lincoln, Oct. 11, 1314; shewing that the practice was a universal one. The Indulgences were, in each case, for forty days. We may look with admiration at our Cathedral, “fabrica tam nobilis, et honorifica toti regno,” as the Bishop calls it; but surely it takes not a little gilt from the gingerbread, when we reflect that this grand edifice was not entirely the product of the piety of our forefathers, as we have too fondly supposed, but due largely to the episcopal sanction of what with all charity, can hardly be called a pious fraud; and that it was really paid for by “the wages of sin.” The individuals were granted their forty days’ “fling” of iniquity, with the episcopal pledge of exemption from its penalty, provided they responded to the episcopal call—a system of “Do ut des,” based on a “superstitio damnabilis,”—Bishop Dalderby’s Memorandums, 101 b. Quoted “Archit. Soc. Reports,” vol. iv., pt. ***., pp, 42, 43. The author of a book recently (1904) published on “French Cathedrals,” says that many of them were “built in expiation of wrong deeds.”[149b] “Ayen-bite of Inwyt,” by Dan Michel (Early English Text Society), edited by R. Morris, Esq.[151a] This being in a fragile condition was recently removed to the wall of the east end by the late Vicar, and forms a rather fine reredos.[151b] The device on this stone was a cross, within a circle. On the four arms of the cross were the capital letters LX—DI—ST—VRA, and in the centre the letter E. Taking this letter as common to all four arms, we get Lex., Dei, Est, Vera; the law of God is true. A similar device is graven on one side of the font in Dunsby church, near Bourne.[152a] “Itner. Cur.,” vol. i., p. 88.[152b] “Monast.,” vol. i., p. 486.[152c] “Stikeswalde Prior. Monial Cistert. Collectanea,” vol. i., p. 92.[152d] The Rev. Thos. Cox, in his “Lincolnshire,” calls it a Gilbertine Priory, and Dugdale, in a second notice of it (vol. ii., 809), also places it among the Gilbertines. Further, Dr. Oliver, on what authority he does not state, says that the nuns were habited in a white tunic, with black scapulary (bands across the back and shoulders), and girdle, with a capacious hood, called a culla; whereas Dugdale has an engraving of a nun, in black cloak, under skirt, and culla. Probably they wore different attire on different occasions.[153a] Leland, vol. i., p. 92.[153b] Dugdale, vol. i., 486 ii., 809.[153c] Within quite recent times a handsome satin pulpit cloth, embroidered with rich emblematical devices, was still in use in Scopwick church, some 6 miles from Woodhall.[154a] Candlemas was one of the chief festivals, of which we now only retain the name; but in those days every family contributed its quota, or “shot for wax.”—Oliver, p. 65, note 4.[154b] Oliver, p. 67, note 8.[154c] It is still on record that Queen Elizabeth, an ardent sportswoman, shot her four bucks before breakfast.[154d] “Placit. de quo Warrento,” 22 Ed. I.[154e] Matthew of Westminster, “Flores Historiarum,” p. 313.[154f] “Rot. Hund.,” p. 317.[154g] “Rot. Can. Reg.,” 6 Rich I.[154h] Leland, “Coll.,” vol. i.. 92.[155a] The buildings of the Priory must have been on a large scale, as they covered several acres, and of great architectural beauty. Not one stone of them now remains upon another, but, as an ornament, outside the front door of a house in Horncastle, there stands a large “boss,” formerly in the Priory roof, from which branch off six concentric arches. It is about 2ft. in diameter, and most exquisitely carved with elaborate foliage. The writer has a photograph of it.[155b] The Rev. James Alpass Penny, now Vicar of Wispington.[156] BedÆ Martyrology, D. Kalend, Nov.[157] Commem. of All Souls. “Golden Legend,” fol. 200.[158] Maddison’s “Lincolnshire Wills,” Series I., p. 32, No. 84.[159] This collar disappeared about the year 1887, but has since been recovered.[160] “The Story of Two Noble Lives.” Memorials of Charlotte, Countess Canning, and Louisa, Marchioness of Waterford, pp. 93, 95, 96.[161a] It is said that Thistlewood’s last words before mounting the scaffold, addressed to one executed with him, were “Courage, brother, we shall soon learn the great secret.”[161b] “The Story of Two Noble Lives,” p. 187.[161c] Compare “Bucks.,” Buckinghamshire, Buckland, Buckhurst. Taylor’s “Woods and Places,” p, 321. Beechnuts, it should be remembered, were the chief food of the herds of swine, very numerous in olden times.[162] A carucate is the extent cultivated by one plough in one year and a day (120 acres). “Villeins” were the lower class of labourers, living in the village; “bordars” a better class, living in cottages attached to the Manor House, and enjoying certain privileges. “Soc-men” were tenants of the lord, holding their tenures by rent or “service” of various kinds; i.e., freemen.[165] I am indebted for these particulars to an account given by the Rev. J. A. Penny in “Lincs. N. & Q.,” vol. iii., pp, 97–201.[166a] Among the questions asked at Monastic Visitations were, whether the monks were guilty of superstition, apostacy, treason or thieves, or coiners.—MSS., Cott. Cleop. ii., 59. Henry, Prior of Tupholme, was said to be “very ingenious in making false money.”—Monas. Anglic., ii., p. 269. Thompson’s “Boston,” Append., p. 61.[166b] Horn was much used for drinking vessels, spoons, hunting horns, the heads of walking sticks, etc.; and, by statutes of Edw. II. and IV., a Horner’s Guild was founded and protected by Charter. Thus the Priory might well ply a lucrative, if illicit, trade.[168a] “Monasticon,” vol. i., 142.[168b] “Itin.,” vol. vi, p. 214.[169a] Dugdale’s “Mon.,” vol. ii., 848.[169b] Quoted in Oliver’s “Religious Houses on the Witham,” p. 87, note 21, ed. 1846. The Venerable Bede relates that while Oswald’s body remained outside the Abbey through a night, awaiting burial, protected by a tent, a pillar of light was seen reaching up from the waggon to heaven. The water in which his remains were washed was poured on the ground in a corner of the sacred place, and the soil which received it had the power to expel devils.—“Hist.” vol. iii., c. xi.[171] Among the monks of Bardney was one known as Richardus de Bardney, whose chronicles are preserved to this day (Anglia Sacra, II., 326). Among other curious items given by him is one recording the miraculous birth of Bishop Grossetete, so named from his great head. It reads thus, in something better than monkish Latin:—

Impregnata parens patitur per somnia multum,
Quod nihil in ventre sit, nisi grande caput;
Et tam grande caput, et tanto robore forte,
Quod puer ex utero fultus abit baculo.

Which may be done thus into English:—

A mother, great with coming child,
Much suffers in her dreams,
That naught beyond a monster head
Her inward burden seems.
A head so huge, yet with such might
Endowed, that at his birth,
Supported on a wooden staff
The infant issues forth.

[173] The account of this incident is also given in “Gilda Aurifabrorum,” by Chaffers, 66. King Charles seems to have made himself merry over his cups, with others beside the Lord Mayor. It is recorded that dining with Chief Justice Sir George Jeffreys, the sovereign found his lordship’s wine so good that he “drank to him seven times.”—Verny, “Memoirs,” vol. iv., p. 234[175] Early in this chapter.[176] “Religious Houses on the Witham,” Appendix, p. 167, note 46.[178] Bull-baiting was in vogue at Stamford in this county as early as the reign of King John, 1209, and continued till 1839.

A bill against the sport was introduced into the House of Commons, May 24th, 1802, but was rejected, mainly through the influence of Mr. Wyndham, who used some curious arguments in favour of the sport. It has since been made illegal, through the instrumentality of the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, established 1824. At one time many towns, and even villages, practised the sport. Strutt, “Sports” (p. 277), says many of the rings “remain at the present time” (1780.)[179] Liberty to hold an annual fair, two days before the Eve of St. Barnabas, and to continue eight days, was granted by Henry III. by charter, to Ralph de Rhodes, Lord of the Manor. This is the present June Fair. A. second charter, granted by the same king, empowered the Lord of the Manor to hold an annual fair, to commence on the Eve of the Feast of St. Lawrence, and to continue seven days. This is the great August Fair, once perhaps the largest in the world, though now greatly reduced. Our third, or October, Fair was removed to Horncastle from Market Stainton, where it was a Statute Fair, in 1768.[180] The institution of “Bough-houses” at fairs was not confined to Horncastle. By Act of Parliament (35 George III., c. 113, s. 17) an exception was made to the general rule of a license being required for the sale of beer, that at fair-time any one hanging a bough at their door, and thus constituting the house a “booth,” might sell beer without a license. It prevailed at Pershore, with the sanction of the magistrates, as late as 1863; also at Bridgewater, Church Staunton, and Newton Poppleford (“Notes and Queries,” 3rd series, vol. iv., pp. 141 and 258). Hence we find at Carmarthen, the principal hotel named “The Ivy Bush”; and at Carlisle, in English Street, there is a coaching inn called “The Bush.” (“On the track of the Mail Coach,” by J. E. Baines, p. 226). There is also a “Bush Hotel” at Farnham. In out-of-the-way parts of Germany, as in the Upper Eisel District, at the village feast called “Kirmess” a bough is hung out at a house door to shew that refreshment may be obtained there. (“Field, Forest, and Fell,” by J. A. Owen, p. 74). Of the existence of similar houses at an early period in England, we have evidence in Chaucer’s “Canterbury Tales.” There were ale-houses on the country road-sides, marked by a pole projecting over the door; and as the pilgrims rode along, the Pardoner would not begin his tale till he had stopped to refresh himself,

“But first, quod he, her, at thys ale-stake,
I will both drynke, and biten at a cake.”

Jusseraud, in his “Wayfaring life of 14th century,” gives a sketch of such a Bow-house from a XIV. century illuminated MS.[181] This peculiar and ready mode of dissolving the bond of wedlock was not uncommon in former times; but I have a note of a similar transaction occurring in or near Scarborough in a quite recent year; and in 1898 (Nov. 18) a case came before Mr. Justice Kekewich, in the Chancery Court, when it was found that one of the parties concerned, before leaving this country for Australia, had sold his wife for £250.[183] Abbey and Overton, “Church of England in the 18th Century,” quoted “Church Folklore,” by J. E. Vaux, p. 2.[184] “LiterÆ LaureatÆ”; or, the Poems of John Brown, the Horncastle Laureate. Edited by J. Conway Walter.[188a] Other Roman mazes have been found in Lincolnshire at Alkborough, as well as at Louth and Appleby; at Wing, in Rutlandshire; at Sneinton and Clifton, in Notts.; at Hilton, in Hunts.; and many other places. The one at Hilton is also called “Julian’s Bower.” Views of the plans of some are given in the Architectural Society’s Journal (Yorkshire), vol. iv., pp. 251–268. I shall go into this subject again further on, in dealing with “Troy wood,” at Coningsby.[188b] “Architect. Soc. Journ,” vol. iv., p. 200.[188c] Stukeley, “Itin. Curios.” p. 91.[188d] At Helston, in Cornwall, on May 8th, a procession of young persons marches through the town, decked with flowers; and the day is called “Flurry-day,” doubtless a corruption of the Roman “Floralia.”[188e] “The Vikings of Western Christendom,” by C. F. Keary, p. 52.[188f] “History of Horncastle,” p. 27.[188g] “Collectanea,” vol. ii, p. 509.[190] In the “Memoirs of the Verney Family,” Vol. i., it is stated that the King’s army were raw levies, pressed by force at short notice, ill fed and ill clothed. The Verneys’ relative, Dr. Denton, present with the forces, writes, “Our men are very rawe, our armes, of all sorts, naught, our vittle scarce, and provision for horses worse” (p. 315). Sir Jacob Astley writes, his recruits “have neither colours nor halberts”; and he has to “receive all the arch knaves of the kingdom, who beat their officers and break open prisons.” Edmund Verney writes, “We have 6 weeks’ pay due, and unless there be some speedy payment, you may expect to hear that our souldyers are in a mutiny; they are notable sheep stealers already.” Many had only rude pykes and lances; few who had a musket had a sword as well. Pistols and matchlocks were scarce. Old armour, which had hung in churches and manor houses, was used over again (pp. 109–116).[192a] Walker’s “Sufferings of the Clergy,” pt. ii, pp. 252, 253.[192b] Chancery Inquis., p. mort, 8 Ric. II, No. 99.[193c] Some of these fragments were taken by Mr. Stanhope to Revesby Abbey. Two of them stand in the writer’s garden, at Langton Rectory.[193] Cl. Rot., 13 Hen III., given in “Lincs. N. & Q.,” vol. i, p. 49. From a very early period churches and churchyards were regarded as so sacred that a criminal, having reached one of these, like the Biblical cities of refuge, could not be disturbed. On the north door of Durham Cathedral there is a ponderous bronze knocker-ring, to which the criminal, clinging, was safe. There is another at Hexham, and at St. Gregory’s, Norwich. At Westminster, Worcester, Croyland, Tintern, and many other places, there was the same privilege. In Beverley Minster there is a remarkable stone called the “Frith-stool,” because it “freeth” the criminal from pursuit. It is recorded that in 1325 ten men escaped from Newgate, four of them to the Church of St. Sepulchre, and one to St. Bride’s. Nicholas de Porter joined in dragging a man from Sanctuary, who was afterwards executed. But this act was itself so great an offence, that he only obtained pardon through the Papal Nuncio, on doing penance in his shirt and bare head and feet in the church porch, on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday in Whitsun week. A result, however, of the abuse of Sanctuary was, that churches being so numerous over the country, criminals could always obtain a refuge, and the roads became infested with highwaymen. Henry VIII. passed Acts curtailing the privilege, and it was finally abolished by James I., 1624—“New Quarterly Mag.,” Jan., 1880. Et alibi.[194a] Collectanea, vol. ii., p. 300.[194b] Although these events happened more than 250 years ago, it does not require many links to connect that day with the present. The writer was informed, at the time he was putting these records together, that a man named John Barber died in Horncastle, aged 95, in the year 1855 or 1856, whose grandfather remembered Oliver Cromwell sleeping in the above-named house, then a mud and stud structure, on the night before Winceby fight. In the Register of West Barkwith is recorded the burial of Nicholas Vickers in 1719, who guided Cromwell over Market Rasen Moor after the battle. Cromwell may well, therefore, have returned to the same house at Horncastle before proceeding northward by Market Rasen.[196a] “Monasticon,” p. 45.[196b] “History of the House of Marmion,” p. 18.[197a] Berewick is a hamlet or minor manor attached to a larger. The word strictly means cornland (bere, or barley). This Dispenser, as his name (Latin Dispensator) implies, was steward to the Conqueror. His descendants were the Despensers, Earls of Gloucester. He was brother to the Earl Montgomery. Being a powerful man, he forcibly seized the lordship of Elmley from the monks of Worcester. At the time of Domesday he held 15 manors in Lincolnshire, seventeen in Leicester, four in Warwickshire, &c.

[197b] Maddison’s “Wills,” series i., p. 360, No. 96.[198] In a note on the Will, Mr. Maddison says, “The testator was the second son of Robert Dighton (of Sturton), by his wife, Joyce St. Paul (a lady of another very old and well-connected county family).”[199a] Land Revenue Records, bundle 1392, file 79, Pub. Rec. Off.[199b] North’s “Church Bells of Lincolnshire,” p. 497, ed. 1882.[200a] There are still Willoughbys in the neighbourhood, and one living in Langton.[200b] There are, however, several modern spires since this saying came into vogue, two—at Horsington and Wispington—being within sight from Woodhall, and a third at Sausthorpe near Spilsby, a very fine one, designed by Mr. Stephen Lewin, who was the architect of St. Andrew’s Church, Woodhall Spa.[201] Gov. Geol. Survey, “Country round Lincoln,” p. 205.[204] He was supposed to have been asleep in the train, and hearing the name of the station called out, he aroused himself too slowly, and stepped out of the carriage when the train had passed 80 yards or more beyond the platform. He was discovered an hour or more afterwards by a railway servant, who walked down the line. He was conveyed to his residence at Horncastle, but never recovered the sense of feeling below his neck. The present writer frequently read to him in his illness. After some weeks he regained a slight power of movement in his feet, which gave hopes of recovery; but soon after this, his attendant, on visiting him, found him dead in his bed.[205a] Blomfield, “Hist. of Norfolk,” vol. iii., p. 187.[205b] Dugdale’s “Baronage,” vol. i., p. 439.[208a] This list was published by T. C. Noble.[208b] “Architect. Soc. Journ.,” vol. xxxiii, pt. i, pp. 122 and 132.[208c] Locally pronounced “Screelsby,” and even on one of the family monuments in the church we find, “the Honourable Charles Dymoke, Esquire, of Scrielsby,” died 17 January, 1702.[209a] Weir’s “History,” p. 63.[209b] This is referred to in the old book, “Court Hand Restored,” by Andrew Wright of the Inner Temple (1773) p. 48. where, among a list of ‘canting’ titles of different families, we find a note, “de umbrosa quercu, Dimoak.” This ancient family have performed the office of Champion to the Kings of England ever since the coronation of Richard II., as holding the manor of Scrivelsby hereditarily, from the Marmyons of Lincolnshire, by Grand Sergeantry, so adjudged, M. 1. Henry VIth. The umbrosa quercus, or shadowy oak, represented a play upon the two syllables dim-oak. The term ‘Rebus’ is from the Latin rebus, ‘by things,’ because it is a name-device, the representation of a name by objects. On this principle the crest of Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, was a boar. The boar is also found in the arms of Swinburne, Swinton, Swinney, &c. An old poem says,

Whilst Bacon was but bacon, had he fearde,
He long ere this had proved but larde;
But he, instead of larde, must be a lord,
And so grew leane, and was not fit for boarde.

And, again, we find,

There needed not to blazon forth the Swinton,
His ancient burgonet the boar; &c.

“Cambridge Portfolio,” vol. i., pp. 233, 234.

This may be a convenient place to discuss the origin of the name Dymock. Walford (“Tales of Great Families”) says the name is Welsh, being a contraction of Daimadoc, which means David Madoc. He was a descendant of Owen Tudor, Lord of Hereford and Whittington. This chief had three sons; the second married a daughter of the Prince of North Wales, half a century before the Conquest, and was ancestor of David ap Madoc; Dai-Madoc, in course of time, shrinking into Daimoc, or Dymoke. Burke says that the John Dymoke who married Margaret de Ludlow, granddaughter of Philip de Marmion, was a knight of ancient Gloucestershire ancestry, and there is a village of Dymock, near Gloucester. A Welsh origin is likely, as there were Dymokes of Pentre in Wales; the Lady Margaret de Ludlow, who married Sir John Dymoke of Scrivelsby, took her title from Ludlow in the adjoining county of Salop. And another Welsh origin of the name has been suggested. “Ty,” pronounced “Dy” in Welsh, means “house”; “moch” means “swine”; and so Dymoke would mean Swinehouse, after the fashion of Swynburne, Swinhop, Swineshead; all old names. The motto of the Dymokes, adopted at a later date, Pro Rege Dimico, “I fight for the King,” is again a case, though most appropriate, of a “canting” motto.[211] I am indebted, for these details, to that very interesting work, Walford’s “Tales of Great Families.”[212a] “Words of Wellington,” by Sir William Fraser, Bart., pp. 41–44. The “Gentleman’s Magazine” for 1821 contains a picture of Sir H. Dymoke, riding on his white charger into Westminster Hall, supported on either side by the Duke of Wellington and Marquis of Anglesey, on horseback; and two Heralds, with tabards and plumes, on foot.[212b] (a) sword, (b) girdle, (c) scabbard, (d) partisans, i.e. halberts, (e) gilt, (f) pole-axe, an ancient weapon, having a handle, with an iron head, on the one side forming an axe, and the other side a hammer; this, in the hands of a strong man was a fatal instrument of destruction; (g) the chasing staff was a gilt “wand of office” carried before the Champion, to clear the way, (h) a pair of gilt spurs.[215] Had we continued on the road skirting the Park and passing within 150 yards of Scrivelsby church, we should have presently reached the village of Moorby, with a modern brick church, but having a remarkable old font, and part of an uncommon “minstril column;” thence, turning westward, we might have passed through Wood Enderby, with modern church of sandstone; and so have reached Haltham, our next stage; but this route must be considered as rather beyond a walk or drive from Woodhall Spa, although it would repay the energetic visitor to take it.[216] This description is mainly taken from an account given by the Rev. J. A. Penny in “Linc. N. & Q.” vol. iv., pp. 161–164.[217] “Lincs. N. & Q.,” vol. iii., pp. 245, 246. It may be remarked that this kind of tenure is not so uncommon as has been supposed. In an old undated Deed, but of the time of Richard I., William, Clerk of Hameringham, a parish within four miles of Haltham, makes a grant of land to the monks of Revesby on condition of their providing him and his heirs annually at Michaelmas a pair of spurs. Blount (“Tenures of Land and Customs of Manors,” pp. 115, 237) mentions similar tenures in Notts. and Kent (“Lincs. N. A Q.,” vol. i., p. 256). There is a peculiarity about these two “spur” tenures in our neighbourhood worthy of note. An old chronicler says that, when the freebooter’s larder got low, his wife had only to put a pair of spurs in his platter, as a hint that he must issue forth to replenish it. We can, without any great stretch of imagination, picture to ourselves the knight, Ralph de Rhodes, making an inroad on a neighbour’s soil, and therefore the annual gift of spurs would be acceptable, for himself or his men. But to the country parson we can hardly deem such a gift appropriate. He could scarcely be a “clerk of St. Nicholas,” as well as clerk of his benefice; and even were he always to make the round of his parish on horseback, his spurs would hardly need yearly renewal.[218] The Saxon is Cyning; the Danish Koning, and Konge; English King. In not a few cases history records the occasion when the king’s presence gave the name; as at Kingston-on-Thames, where there is a stone, still carefully preserved, on which the Saxon kings sat to be crowned. King’s-gate, in the Isle of Thanet, is the spot where Charles II. landed at the Restoration. The manor of Hull (Kingston-on-Hull) was purchased by Edward I., and King’s Lynn, Lyme Regis, Conington, Cunningham, Coney-garth, Coningsby, all tell the same tale. They perpetuate their respect for Royalty in the very name they took.—Taylor, “Words and Places,” pp. 201, 203.[219a] Lord Coningsby had two sons, Humphrey and Ferdinand, whose baptisms are entered in the register of Bodisham, or Bodenham, Herefordshire, with dates 16 Feb., 1681–2, and 6 May, 1683.—“Lincs. N. & Q.,” vol. iii, p. 24.[219b] “Sac” means the power to hear causes, levy fines, &c.; “soc” is the district over which he had this power. “Mansion,” according to Bracton, is a dwelling-House consisting of one or more tenements.[220a] “Britannia,” p. 742. His name, as “Terrius de Bevra,” (Bevere, or Bever-lee in Holderness), he holding the Seigniory of that country, appears among the “Milites FlandriÆ” in the rolls of Ban and Arriere Ban, in the time of Philip Augustus. To show that he was of a somewhat overbearing spirit, it is related of him, that the Conqueror, having bestowed upon him the lordship of Holderness, he was not content with that, but claimed all the land held by the church of St. John (now the Minster) at Beverley, with which it had been endowed by the King.[220b] “Linc. N. & Q.,” vol. ii., pp. 10 and 108.[220c] “Ibid.,” pp. 141, 142.[220d] “Ibid.,” p. 228.[221a] “Linc. N. & Q.,” vol. iii., pp. 245, 246.[221b] “Ibid.,” p. 150. The above Burgavenny should be Abergavenny, in South Wales, but both forms were used.[222] A similar thoroughfare formerly existed through the tower of the old All Saints’ Church at Cambridge, and there is still one through the tower of the church at March.[223] In the church at Walton-on-Thames there is preserved in the vestry, a scold’s bridle: two flat steel bands, which go over the head, face, and round the nose, with a flat piece going into the mouth and fixing the tongue. It locks at the back of the head. It bears this inscription:—

Chester presents Walton with a bridle
To curb women’s tongues that be idle;

the said Chester being, it is said, a man who lost money through a talkative woman of Walton. An engraving of a “brancks” is given in the volume of the ArchÆological Institute for 1848, p. 211. It was exhibited, by Col. Jarvis of Doddington, at Lincoln, on the visit of the Institute to that city.[228] River names, as Taylor, in his “Words and Places” (p. 130), tells us, are almost invariably of Celtic, i.e. British, origin. “Ban” means bright, or clear, and is found not only in our Bain, but in several other rivers. There is a Bain in Hertfordshire, a Ben in Co. Mayo, Bandon in Co. Cork, Bann in Co. Wexford, Bana Co. Down, Bannon (or Ban-avon) in Pembrokeshire, Banney in Yorkshire, &c.[229a] “Britannia,” pp. 470, 471.[229b] The name de Albini, corrupted into Daubeny survives, as a family name, and as a place-name in many localities. In the writer’s own parish there is a field called “Daubney’s Walk,” and a small stream named “Daubney’s Beck.”[229c] The Patent Roll, 15 Henry III., m. 2, gives this: Pro Roberto de Tatteshale—Rex concessit Roberto de Tatteshale quod libere et sine impedimento unam domum de petra et calce firmari faciat apud manerium suum de Tatteshal. In cujus &c, teste Rege, apud Hereford xxj die Maii. Et mandatum est vicecomiti Linc. per literas clauses quod ipsam dictam domum firmare permittat sicut prÆdictum est; teste ut supra.[230] “Itin.,” p. 162.[231a] See “Proceedings of Essex ArchÆol. Society,” vol. iv.; and “Beauties of England,” vol. x., p. 285.[231b] “Beauties of England—Sussex,” vol. xiv., p. 205.[231c] A ground-plan of the castle and its precincts is given in a Selection of Papers of the “Lincolnshire Topographical Society,” 1841, 1812, printed by W. & B. Brooke, Lincoln; and a full description is given by the late Bishop Suffragan, E. Trollope, in the “Architectural Society’s Journal,” 1858, in a Paper on “The Use and Abuse of Red Bricks.”[232] Mr. H. Preston, F.G.S., of Grantham, examined these on the visit of the Linc. Naturalists’ Union to Tumby in the autumn of 1898, and gave this as his opinion.[233] Allen, in his “History of Lincolnshire,” states that these conical roofs remained in the thirties, but they were there at least ten years later, to the writer’s own knowledge.[236] At Revesby there is St. Sythe’s Lawn, where the Abbot of that monastery used to reside, and some of the carving from his residence is still preserved in the very handsome new church erected there by the late Right Honourable E. Stanhope. In Mells church, Somerset, in the coloured glass of a window, St. Sitha is also represented with two keys in one hand and three loaves in the other. She was slain by the Danes about a.d. 870. (“ArchÆol. Journal,” No. 6, June, 1845).[238] Toll-bars are not always so successfully negotiated. The writer, when at Cambridge, had three college acquaintances who, on one occasion—contra leges—attended Newmarket races. Riding home in the dusk, they found the toll-bar closed, and charged it. The first of them cleared it successfully; the second, rather a bulky man, rode at it, but the horse stopped short and he himself shot over, without it. The third took the gate, but the horse and rider fell together, and he was carried into the bar-house insensible, to be presently found there, and taken home by the Proctor, who had been looking for them. He, however, proved a friend in need and in deed, for he kept council, and did not divulge the incident. A future clergyman, afterwards residing in this neighbourhood, attempted the same feat, but suffered for it ever afterwards. A screw was left loose in his cranium, and he might sometimes be seen riding along the ditches by the roadside rather than on the road itself. His horse, however, and he, as should always be the case, thoroughly understood each other, and did not “fall out,” or in.[239a] “Quarterly Review,” July, 1891, p. 127.[239b] A volume was published by the Lincolnshire Architectural Society, in 1846 (J. H. Parker, Oxford), which gives a History of the Architecture of the Abbey Chapel, now standing. Dr. Oliver, also, in his “Religious Houses on the Witham,” gives a very interesting history of the Abbey. Both these books are now scarce.[240a] MS. Vespasian E. xviii, in British Museum: quoted “Architect. Soc. Journ.,” 1895, p. 109.[240b] Harlevan MS., No. 4127.[240c] Quoted from the Fenman’s Vade Mecum.[241a] “Placitum de quo Warranto,” p. 401.[241b] Quoted Oliver’s “Religious Houses,” pp. 77, 78.[241c] “Hundred Rolls,” p. 317.[241d] “Ibid.,” p. 365.[241e] “Ibid.,” p. 299.[241f] “Placit de quo Warranto,” p. 404.[241g] “Hundred Rolls,” p. 317.[241h] For the years 1281 to 1301.[241i] Letter from Rev. R. W. Sibthorpe to Dr. Bloxham, “Life of Sibthorpe,” (1880), p. 138.[242] Stukeley, “Itin. Cur.,” p. 29. The pageants of Corpus Christi day are described by Dugdale, and in the “Northumberland Household Book,” 1512.[243a] Acta Regia. Quoted by Oliver, “Religious Houses,” p. 52, note 68. The corruption which was gradually eating its way into the monastic life came, in some cases, to be felt by those who were admitted to their intimacy. The author of a poem contemporary with Chaucer, in the 14th century, says,

I was a friere ful many a day,
Therefor the soth I wot;
But when I saw that their lyvinge
Accorded not to their prechynge,
Of I cast my friere clothynge,
And wyghtly went my way.

Quoted, Jusseraud’s “Way-faring Life of 14th Century.”[243b] Cottonian MS. “Cleopatra,” E.[244a] Cowper, “The Task,” 1. 206.[244b] “Quarterly Review,” July, 1891, p. 126.[246] Referring to these portions of screen, Mr. G. E. Jeans, author of “Murray’s Handbook to Lincolnshire,” says “Kirkstead Abbey, most valuable Early English screen, one of the earliest in England” (“Lincs. N. & Q.,” vol. ii., p. 91). Also Dr. Mansel Sympson, in a Paper on “Lincolnshire Rood Screens,” read before the Architectural Society, June, 1890, goes into further detail. He says, “It is composed of 13 bays. Each bay consists of a lancet-headed trefoil, supported by octagonal pillars, with moulded capitals and bases . . . total height 2ft. 9in. Some screen-work exists in Rochester Cathedral of exactly the same character.” And the late Mr. Bloxam gave a drawing of a similar specimen in Thurcaston Church, Leicestershire. That at Stanton Harcourt, Oxfordshire, is not quite similar, and is 40 or 50 years later (1260); so that we may be proud of possessing, at Kirkstead, almost the oldest fragment of work, in this particular line, in the country. (“Architect. Soc. Journ.,” 1890, pp. 198, 199).[247] See “ArchÆological Journal,” vol. xl., p. 296.[249] Vol. i., p. 286, 1886.[250a] Col. Richard Ellison, of Boultham, in a poem, entitled “Kirkstead; or, The Pleasures of Shooting,” printed by Painter, 342 Strand, London, 1837.[250b] The concluding words of Mr. Hartshorne’s Paper quoted above.[251] A photo of the writer in this attitude, in Alpine costume, hat and alpenstock in hand, and with the sweat of his brow still glistening from a mountain climb, has been exhibited at more than one lantern-illustrated lecture.[254] “ArchÆol. Journ.,” No. 7, Sept., 1845, p. 353; and Saunder’s “Hist. Linc.,” vol. ii., pp. 170, 171.[255] Sir Charles Anderson says “Tennyson’s ‘Northern Farmer,’ excepting his ‘yal’ for ‘ale,’ is a failure.” (“Pocket Guide to Lincoln,” p. 17).[256] “Tennyson Land,” by J. Cumming Walters, note p. 79. Less than a mile away there is a saline spring, in the adjoining parish of Salmonby, said to be similar in its properties to the Tunbridge Wells water, but stronger. (Saunder’s “Hist. Linc.” vol. ii., p. 178).[257] One of these slabs has the inscription, “Orate pro anima Albini de Enderby qui fecit fieri istam ecclesiam cum campanile, qui obiit in Vigillia Sancti Matthie Apostoli, Anno MCCCCVII.” The other has, in Norman-French, “Thomas Enderby, et Loues sa feme gysont yey dieux de lour aimees pour sa grace eyt mercy.” A nearly similar inscription runs round the cross-legged figure of a knight on an incised slab in the church of St. Bride’s, Glamorganshire, “Iohan: Le; Botiler: git: ici: Deu: De: Sa: Alme: Ait: merci: Amen.”—“ArchÆolog. Journal,” No. viii., p. 383.[259] Harleyan MSS. No. 6829. Saunder’s “Hist. Lincs.,” vol. ii., p. 173.[260] Col. Ellison of Boultham, author of the poem “Kirkstead; or, The Pleasures of Shooting,” Preface, Painter, 342 Strand, 1837. A book now out of print.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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