ave

aimed a blow at him, which, if it had taken place, must instantly terminated the strife; but, avoiding this, he sprang at the thieftaker, and grappled with him. Firmly built, as it was, the bridge creaked in such a manner with their contending efforts, that Abraham durst not venture beyond the door, where he stood, holding the light, a horrified spectator of the scene. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. Disengaging his right arm, Jonathan struck his victim a tremendous blow on the head with the bludgeon that fractured his skull; and, exerting all his strength, threw him over the rails, to which he clung with the tenacity of despair.

"Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. "Spare me !" Jonathan, however, instead of answering him, searched for his knife, with the intention of severing his wrist. But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. He then stamped upon the hand on the lower banister, until that also relaxed its gripe. Sir Rowland then fell.

A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water.

"Give me the link," cried Jonathan.

Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well.

"Shoot him! shoot him! Put him out of hish mishery," cried the Jew.

"What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely. "He can't get out."

After making several ineffectual attempts to keep himself above water, Sir Rowland sunk, and his groans, which had become gradually fainter and fainter, were heard no more.

"All 's over," muttered Jonathan.

"Shall ve go back to de other room?" asked the Jew. "I shall breathe more freely dere. Oh! Chrisht! de door's shut! It musht have schwung to during de schuffle!"

"Shut!" exclaimed Wild. "Then we 're imprisoned. The spring can't be opened on this side."

"Dere's de other door!" cried Mendez, in alarm.

"It only leads to the fencing crib," replied Wild. "There's no outlet that way."

"Can't ve call for asshistanche?"

-

"And who'll find us, if we do?" rejoined Wild, fiercely. "But they will find the evidences of slaughter in the other room,-the table upset, the bloody cloth,-the dead man's sword, the money,-and my memorandum, which I forgot to remove. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. It's all your fault, you shaking coward! and, but that I feel sure you'll swing for your carelessness, I'd throw you into the well, too."

LEGENDS OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

WITH THE ADVENTURES OF THE AUTHOR IN SEARCH OF THEM.

BY ABRAHAM ELDER, ESQ.

BORTHWOOD forest was an extensive tract of wild and well-wooded country, lying on this side of Shanklin. You will see, when you pass that way, a singularly-pointed conical hill, with a peasant's cottage perched upon the top of it, rising out of a comparatively level country. It is known to this day by the name of "The Queen's Bower." Its use, and the origin of its name, are as follow:

It was the custom of our Norman ancestors, when they gave a grand hunting entertainment, to select an open space, as near as might be in the centre of their hunting-ground; and choosing some natural mount, or forming an artificial one, they erected upon it a pavilion, in which were placed the ladies, and such of their company as did not intend personally to take a part in the chase. A large portion of the forest was then surrounded by as many of the chief retainers as could be got together. These advanced in a circle, making a great noise, gradually contracting the area of the circle, until at length all the beasts that they had disturbed were driven into the appointed hunting-ground. Here the knights who had assembled for the chase, lay in wait for them near the openings through which it was probable that the game would issue from the forest. The knights were generally on horseback, armed with bows and arrows, and attended with their squires holding their dogs in leash. As the deer passed, they shot their arrows, and let their dogs loose upon the game, and generally with fatal effect; for skill in every branch of the art of hunting appears to have been the great test of a man's being a gentleman.

The hill still called the Queen's Bower derives its name from the circumstance of Isabella de Fortibus, the lady of the Isle of Wight in the reign of Edward the First, having there erected her huntingpavilion. This lady, so celebrated in the local history of the island, was sometimes styled the Queen of the Isle of Wight; and, indeed, though feudally subject to the Crown of England, her authority within her own dominions was quite despotic, and she lived in her castle of Carisbrook in a magnificence and state worthy of royalty. A very curious account of a hunting of this lady, or Queen of the Isle of Wight, in Borthwood forest, is preserved in an ancient manuscript in the British Museum. It appears that a certain knight visited her court in disguise; and Isabella, wishing to satisfy her doubts as to whether he was come of noble blood or not, without committing a breach of ancient hospitality by asking him questions, proposes a grand hunting-match, that he might prove his noble breeding by his skill in the chase. The manuscript is as follows:"On the morrow, whan yt was day, To her men she gan to say,

Ancient MS. Brit. Mus. Harl. MSS. 2252,44. Wart. Eng. Poet. vol. i. p. 198.

VOL. VI.

T

'To-morrow, whan it is daylight,
Lok ye be all redy dight,
With your houndis more and lesse
In forrest to take my gresse,
And thare I will myself be,
Your games to beholde and see.'
Ippomedon had houndis three,
That he brot from his countree,
Whan they were to the wood gone,
This ladye and her men ichone,†
And with hem her houndis ladde,‡
All that any houndis hadde,

Syr Tholomew forgate he nought
Iis maistres houndis thythere he brought,
That many a day he had run ere;

Full well he thought to note hem there.
Whan they came to the lande on hight,

The queen's pavylyon there was pight,§
That she might see all the best
All the game of the forrest;

And to the ladye brought many a best,
Herte and hynd, buck and doe,
And other bestis many mo.
The houndis that were of gret prise
Plucked down deer all atryse.

Ippomedon, he with his houndis throo,||
Drew down both buck and doo,

More he took with houndis three
Than all that othir compagnie.
Their squyers undyd¶ their deer,
Eche man after his manere:
Ippomedon a deer gede unto,

That full konningly gon he it undo,¶
So fair, that very son he gan to dight

That both him byheld squyre and knighte;

The ladye looked out of her pavylyon,
And saw him dight the venyson;
There she had grete daintee,
And so had alle that dyd hym see.
She sawe all that he down threu,
Of huntynge she wist he could enou,
And thought in her heart then
That he was come of gentilmen.
She bad Jason her men to calle,
Home then passed gret and smalle.
Home thei come soon anon,
This ladye to her meat gan gon,
And of venery+ had her fill,

For they had taken game at will.”

Thus this royal lady having ascertained that Sir Ippomedon was a good shot with a bow, that his greyhounds were of the right breed, and that he knew how to cut up his deer when he had brought it down, goes home to dinner satisfied that the stranger knight is a gentleman every inch of him.

Gresse-game.

+ Ichone-each one, i. e. all.
Three.

§ Pight-pitched.
**To her meat gan gon-went to dinner.

Ladde-led.

To undo a deer, is to cut it up.
Venery-hunting.

GODSHILL.

Having received a letter from Captain Nosered, of Violet Cottage, Ventnor, containing an invitation for Mr. Winterblossom and myself to spend the day with him, stating at the same time that he had a tale for me connected with that neighbourhood, very curious, and well-authenticated, which he wished to show me; as the captain was an old friend of mine, we accepted the invitation, and set out in a car together the next day.

“Pray, sir,” said I, as we went along, "what is that church that I see yonder perched up at the top of a hill?"

"Godshill," answered the antiquary.

"Godshill! Pray can you inform me how it got that name? It cannot be because it is nearer to heaven than the country round it." "I certainly never heard that reason for it before. I always understood that it had been named Godshill in commemoration of a miracle that tradition tells us was performed at the building of the church. The story, as it is now told, and by many still believed, in the Isle of Wight, is as follows:—

"A sum of money having been given by certain pious individuals, whose names unfortunately are now lost, for the erection of a church, the religious authorities of the island, under whose direction it was to be erected, looked out for a proper site for it. After mature deliberation, they fixed upon a spot at the foot of the steep eminence upon which the present church stands.

"Having arranged this to their own satisfaction, they sent a messenger to the proprietor of the land, informing him that the Bishop of the Isle of Wight, after a solemn consultation with a council composed of ancient and holy men, having at heart the spiritual welfare of his island flock, had at length decided upon conferring upon him the high honour and distinction of allowing the church to be built upon his land; and he begged him moreover not to be puffed up with pride thereat, but to receive the favour thus conferred upon him with all humility and gratitude.

"Now it so happened that the owner of this land was a poor franklin (a freeholder), of very limited means and a very large family, and moreover he was by no means of a religious turn of mind. In his heart he hated all priests and monks; he went to sleep at mass when he did attend it; fast-day and feast were to him alike; and as for confession, he avoided it altogether, not because he had nothing to confess, but because he was afraid of frightening the priests if he told the truth; and where was the good of confession if he told lies. "There were, however, occasional exceptions to this rule. There was a certain jolly wandering friar, who used to visit him occasionally and shrive him, without being too particular about trifles; and, besides, he used to hear his confession after supper, which tended to make it pass off very smoothly. Once, indeed, the friar ordered him a slight penance; but then upon that visit he found his landlord's ale a little turned, which might in some degree have soured his temper. The franklin used to say, that a simmering mug of ale, with a roasted crab bobbing about in it, would get him absolution from any sin in the world.

"This being the character of the man who owned the land, it may easily be imagined that, although he avoided the first evil of being

puffed up with pride, he could not bring himself to acknowledge the favour conferred upon him with all the humility and gratitude required of him.

"He did not, however, dare to fly in the face of his powerful selfstyled benefactors. He hemmed, and hawed, and coughed, and then remarked what a splendid site for the church there was just at the top of the hill.

"He was informed that that situation had been well considered, and it was thought to be too much exposed.

"The franklin then changed his tone, and, looking down to the ground with well-feigned humility, he said to the monk

Father, the fact is, I am a very great sinner; and if the church is built upon land belonging to me, it will be erected upon unholy ground. I pray you, father, consider this well. My neighbours on both sides are pious persons, and their land contains magnificent sites for building churches. If you build your church upon their land, it will not stand upon unholy ground; and the high honour will be conferred upon a pious person, who is worthy to be distinguished by the favour of the bishop and his reverend council.'

"The monk replied, Your being a sinner is no obstacle, but the reverse; for, when the foundation-stone is laid, you will receive absolution for all your sins, be they ever so black; and as for the land being tainted with unholiness, we can consecrate that.'

"The franklin now was sorely puzzled what to say. He muttered something about the largeness of his family and the smallness of his farm, and how the spot fixed upon was the best bit of the whole, and how he might be reduced to poverty.

"The monk, however, turned a deaf ear to all this, affecting either not to hear or not to understand the drift of his argument; and so, without in the least committing himself by any hint about the possibility of compensation, he hied him back to his masters, and told them how, when he had delivered his message, the franklin bent his eyes with all humility towards the ground, and replied, that he was too great a sinner for so high an honour to be conferred upon him.

"In the due course of time the bishop's architect came to survey the spot, and trace out the lines of the foundation, and some stones from the quarry at Binstead were piled in a heap, ready for the commencement of the building. The next morning the architect and the masons made their appearance. How great was their astonishment to find not a single stone remaining where they had placed it, and not a single peg or mark put in by the architect remaining there!

"They stood here for some time, first staring at the bare field, then looking at one another, and then staring at the ground again. "Where are all the building-stones gone to?" said one.

"Where are all my pegs that marked out the lines of the foundation?' said the architect.

"Where are all the stones and the pegs gone to, Master Franklin? What tricks have you been playing us, Master Franklin?' said one of them to the owner of the field.

"The franklin looked innocence itself, then opened his eyes and his mouth, and raised up his hands in mute astonishment.

"It strikes me,' said one of the labourers, scratching his head,