concerning him. For all this firmness of mind, which doubtless it was, William deserves respect in an age when the forests too successfully played on the fears and superstitions of the people.

Many visions and predictions of his death are related, three of which, sanctioned by the testimony of credible authors, will here be related. Edmer, the historian of those times, noted for his veracity, says that Archbishop Anselm, the noble exile, with whom all religion was also banished, came to Marcigny that he might communicate the sufferings he endured from William to Hugo, abbot of Clugny. When the conversation turned upon king William, the abbot said, "Last night that king was brought before God; and by a deliberate judgment incurred the sorrowful sentence of damnation." How he came to know this he neither explained at the time, nor did any of his hearers ask: nevertheless, out of respect to his piety, not a doubt of the truth of his words remained on the minds of any present. Hugh's character was such that all regarded his discourse and venerated his advice, as though an oracle from heaven had spoken. And soon after, the king being slain, as will presently be related, there came a messenger to entreat the archbishop to resume his see of Canterbury.

The day before the king died, he dreamed that he was bled by a surgeon; and that the stream, reaching to heaven, clouded the light, and intercepted the sun. Calling on St. Mary for protection, he suddenly awoke, commanded a light to be brought, and forbade his attendants to leave him. They then watched with him several hours until daylight. Just as the day began to dawn, a foreign monk told Robert Fitz Hamon, one of the principal nobility, that he had that night dreamed a strange and fearful dream about the king : "That he had come into a certain church with menacing and insolent gesture, as was his custom, looking contemptuously on the standers-by; then violently seizing the crucifix, he gnawed the arms, and almost tore away the legs; that the image endured this for a long time, but at length struck the king with its foot in such a manner that he fell backwards; and from his mouth, as he lay prostrate, issued so copious a flame that the volumes of smoke touched the very stars." Robert, thinking that this dream should not be neglected, immediately related it to the king. William, repeatedly laughing, exclaimed, "He is a monk, and dreams for money like a monk give him a hundred shillings." In spite of this levity he was greatly moved, and hesitated a long time whether he should go out to hunt, as he had designed, his friends persuading him not to suffer the truth of the dreams to be tried at his personal risk. In consequence, he abstained from the chase before dinner, dispelling the uneasiness of

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his ill-regulated mind by serious business. They relate that, having plentifully regaled that day, he soothed his cares with a more than usual quantity of wine. After dinner he went into the forest, with few attendants, of whom the most intimate with him was Walter, surnamed Tirel, who had been induced to come from France by the king's liberality. This man alone had remained with him, while the others, employed in the chase, were dispersed as chance directed. The sun was now declining, when the king, drawing his bow and letting fly an arrow, slightly wounded a stag which passed before him; and, keenly gazing, followed it, still running, a long time with his eyes, holding up his hand to keep off the rays of the sun. At this instant Tirel, conceiving a noble exploit, which was, while the king's attention was otherwise occupied, to transfix another stag which by chance came near him, unknowingly, and without power to prevent it, pierced his breast with a fatal arrow. On receiving the wound, the king uttered not a word; but breaking off the shaft of the weapon where it projected from his body, fell upon the wound, by which he accelerated his death. Walter immediately ran up, but as he found him senseless and speechless, he leaped swiftly upon his horse, and escaped by spurring him to his utmost speed. Indeed there was none to pursue him some connived at his flight; others pitied him; and all were intent on other matters. Some began to fortify their dwellings, others to plunder, and the rest to look out for a new king. A few countrymen conveyed the body, placed on a cart, to the cathedral at Winchester; the blood dripping from it all the way. Here it was committed to the ground within the tower, attended by many of the nobility, though lamented by few. Next year the tower fell; though William of Malmesbury forbears to mention the different opinions on this subject, lest he should seem to assent too readily to unsupported trifles, more especially as the building might have fallen through imperfect construction, even though he had never been buried there. He died in the year of our Lord's incarnation 1100, of his reign the thirteenth, on the fourth before the nones of August, aged above forty years.

A triangular stone, of which we give a representation, with the following inscriptions, one on each side, now marks the spot where it is alleged that Rufus fell:

"1. Here stood the oak on which an arrow shot by Sir Walter Tyrrell at a stag glanced and struck King William the Second, surnamed Rufus, in the breast, of which he instantly died, on the 2d August, A.D. 1100.

"2. King William the Second, surnamed Rufus, being slain, as is

before related, was laid in a cart belonging to one Purkess, and drawn from hence to Winchester, and was buried in the cathedral church of that city.

"3. A.D. 1745. That the place where an event so memorable had happened might not be hereafter unknown, this stone was set up by John Lord Delawar, who has seen the tree growing in this place."

Six centuries and a half had passed away since William's death, and it was reserved for a private nobleman to raise a stone to let Englishmen know where their second Norman king was killed! The English had forgotten the Normans, and they were then engaged in their last and successful struggle for the expulsion of the Stuarts. The people had risen to be the great power in the state; and instead of allowing the king to put out their eyes for killing a deer, they hesitated not to strike off the head of the king for high treason against the state. What would the Conqueror or Rufus have said to that?

It is recorded that Tirel or Tyrrel escaped to France, and that he soon afterwards departed with crusaders to the Holy Land, where he expiated the life of the English king in fighting for the Holy Sepulchre.

Some old writers declare that it was not Tirel who shot the king, and that Tirel was in a remote part of the forest at the time. If so, why did he run away? and if he did not shoot the arrow, who did? What a confused maze history is!

There is an old tradition in the forest that the body of William was found by a poor charcoal-burner named Purkess, living in a miserable hut in the forest, and that he placed it on such a rude cart as was then in use in those days and took it to Winchester. As a reward he received a grant of a few acres of land around his house or hut. His descendants remained in possession of this little property until a few years ago, never rising above the possession of a horse and cart. In the hut a piece of wood was preserved, said, with the most glaring shew of improbability, to be part of one of the wheels of the cart that conveyed the royal body. When George III. visited the forest he wanted to see this relic; but he was told it was lost; the probability being that the keeper of the hut had some scruple of conscience about deceiving the king.

The scenery of the New Forest is enriched by the magnificent ruin of a celebrated monastic establishment-BEAULIEU ABBEY. The traveller who visits Beaulieu descends at once into a lovely vale, enclosed with lofty trees, covered with the richest verdure, and watered by a flowing river, which meets the tide under the walls of the abbey. This abbey was founded by King John. The stone wall which surrounded its precincts is in several places nearly entire, and is finely

mantled with ivy. There are some traces of the cloisters; but the church is entirely destroyed. The refectory, with a curiously raftered oak roof, forms the parish church of the village of Beaulieu.

Beaulieu Abbey was a sanctuary with as great privileges as that of Westminster, or of St. Martin's at London. Here many fugitive victims of the law fled with breathless haste for safety. When the brave but unfortunate Margaret of Anjou heard that the Lancastrian cause had received its death-blow on the fatal heath of Barnet, she set out from the Abbey of Cearne, where she had been sojourning, and registered herself and all that went with her at this sanctuary as privileged persons. The widowed Countess of Warwick was already there.

Another famous fugitive who found safety at this sanctuary was Perkin Warbeck. This venturous impostor, with several excellent qualities, was deficient in one very essential in those days-he wanted courage. Appalled by the sight of the measureless superiority of the king's forces, he, during the night, mounted a fleet horse and fled secretly from his company of brave but half-naked Cornishmen at Taunton. When morning dawned, and his flight was discovered, the insurgents, without head or leader, submitted to the mercy of Henry VII., who hanged the ringleaders, and dismissed the rest naked and starving. Numbers of well-mounted men were despatched in every quarter in pursuit of Perkin; but his steed carried him well, and he reached the Abbey of Beaulieu. On the 20th January, 1498, this place was by Henry's command surrounded by soldiers, who were required to keep their captive constantly within view. In this situation, when he was beset by spies, weary of confinement, irritated by all the countless annoyances which that word may involve in it, and probably doubtful whether Henry's respect for sanctuary would long continue a match for his policy or revenge, he was advised by the royal emissaries, " on his having pardon and remission of his heinous offences, of his own free will frankly and freely to depart from sanctuary, and commit himself to the king's pleasure." Perkin, being now destitute of all hope, yielded to this advice. Before long the king found an excuse for his death, and he was accordingly executed at Tyburn.3

In the neighbourhood of Beaulieu are the ruins of Netley Abbey, standing at the declivity of a gentle elevation, which rises from the bank of the Southampton Water. The abbey is so embosomed among the trees, which rise in thick clumps around it, some of which spring up from the midst of the roofless walls and spread their waving

3 Mackintosh's History of England.