knights, were rising from the grave; naked, for they brought nothing into this world; and each with his badge of dignity, shewing that all must one day there appear. Opposite the south doorway was S. Christopher, a giant eight feet high, bearing the infant Saviour on his shoulders. He was walking with an uprooted tree through a stream of water, in which many fishes were seen to play in sportive shoals around the feet of the Saint. All round the cornice of the nave roof ran a legend in bold characters: Domine dilexi decorem domus tuæ. In the chancel: Sanguis meus novi Testamenti pro multis effunditur in remissionem peccatorum. Below, and extending round the arches, and partly down the jambs of the lancet windows, curled foliage was painted in gold, azure, and vermilion, most beautiful to behold; for it harmonized with the glowing windows and pavement, and rendered all one richly toned and subdued effulgence of celestial brightness. A chantry chapel with an altar was erected by Sir Aubrey, that after his departure masses might be said daily for the weal of his soul; a most rich and costly building, separated by a screen of carved oak from the east end of the north aisle. Here, on a bracket in the wall, was a silver image of the Blessed Virgin; and a corona lucis, or chandelier, hung from the roof, which threw its faint light through a hagioscope

The

upon the founder's tomb by the altar side. pavement was of tiles, charged with the Kynastone arms indented in the surface of each; and a brave silken banner, with the same bearings, a sword, spurs, and hauberk, all which Sir Aubrey had worn in many a battle, were suspended against the wall, in token that he had resigned war for the repose of domestic life, and danger and strife for the consolations and discipline of the Church. It was a solemn scene to enter the holy doors by the light of the moon, where all within was still and awful, and a holy Presence seemed to sanctify the repose around. Sir Aubrey visited the church in the late evening, when the work was completed and ready for consecration, attended by the old rector. He saw a tear on that ancient man's cheek, as he left it in silence, scarcely able to articulate the words: "I had not hoped to live to see this."

CHAPTER IV.- -THE CASTLE,

On the lordship of Letherton stood a large Norman castle. It had been built by a former possessor of the estate; and had lately been forfeited to the crown by a rebellious descendant bearing arms against his sovereign. While the church was rebuilding, not less extensive had been the work of improvement and enlargement at the castle. The moat was cleared and deepened; the portcullis newly shod with pointed iron; the keep, which had been much injured in a desperate siege, repaired and strengthened; the drawbridge hung anew; the mighty dining-hall restored, roofed, and hung with banners, arms, hunting implements, and trophies of the chase. The dais was loaded by a mighty table of carved black oak; the fire-place, huge and vast, encircled with brilliant heraldries, and filled with great andirons, or fire-dogs, seemed prepared for the reception and speedy consumption of logs of timber of a size unknown to the forestless estates of modern days. New turrets of great size were raised high above the embrasures of the

flanking walls; for the domestic rather than the military conveniences were the baron's chief care in the work, and he had to provide for the maintenance of a large and powerful baronial retinue. The castle was built on a hill overlooking the vale and village of Letherton. The approach was all but impregnable from the ingenious disposition and great strength of the outworks. The path which led to the barbican was very steep and narrow: the portal itself, under a dark lowering archway, lay between two large circular towers, and was guarded by a portcullis. Immediately behind it was the door, of solid oak, framed with immense timbers a foot in thickness, and clamped with iron bolts. Both the portcullis and the outside of the door were covered with iron plates to resist the effects of fire. Within the soffit of the arch were three large holes, by means of which great stones, scalding water, and molten lead, could be poured from the battlements with fatal precision on the assailants below. Beside this, the projecting parapets of the two flanking towers were machicolated for the same purpose. Two narrow loopholes, or balistraria, opened transversely in the side of the towers, from which a shower of arrows and bolts could be discharged by crossbowmen safely ensconced within, so close that the aim was certain and the effect inevitable upon the enemy,

while they were themselves protected from harm by the peculiar conformation of the internal splay. Thus the drawbridge and moat being passed amidst a storm of arrows from the battlements above and sally-port below, the steep pathway must be climbed in the face of the same missiles, ground must be maintained between the towers in front of the portal, in defiance of hot lead from above and bolts from either side, whilst first a portcullis, then a door, which neither axe could cleave nor fire could burn, was fruitlessly assailed. If these were at length overcome by dauntless bravery and perseverance, there still remained the great square keep in the centre of the inclosure, with solid walls twelve feet in thickness, to capture or demolish. Surely human means of preservation could scarcely go beyond this. Yet craft was superadded to strength. More than one other portal, of precisely similar appearance, but presenting a much more favourable point for attack, were so constructed as to induce the enemy to begin the siege and expend their strength on the most hopeless, because, in reality, the strongest, part in the whole building. In fact, these gateways were mere deceptions; the towers being solid, and the wall behind the portcullis impenetrable. Sir Aubrey was still the old soldier by habit and natural predilection, and he would descant by the hour upon the for