verdict of a writer in the “Quarterly Review,” that the castle is indeed
“the finest redbrick tower in the kingdom,” {239a} and the best example,
except, perhaps, Hurstmonceux, of what good brickwork is capable of in
architecture; and, further, that the church is not unworthy of a place
beside it; and it is not a little remarkable that William of Waynfleet,
who completed it, also built the most beautiful college in the world,
viz., that of Magdalen, Oxford.
Our itinerary is now approaching its conclusion, yet we shall finish with
a _bonne bouche_. We turn our faces northward, and, passing by land
still called “Tattershall park,” though now under cultivation and broken
up into fields; and, where formerly were two ancient encampments, British
or Roman, but now obliterated, a walk of some three miles brings us in
view of a tall fragment of stone-work, two fields distant on our left.
This is the last remaining portion of Kirkstead Abbey. It is now some 50
feet high and 18 feet, or so, in width, but an engraving by Buck gives it
as at least double that width; and the writer has conversed with a man
whose father was labouring in the Abbey field when he noticed some
cattle, which had been standing under the shade of the ruin, suddenly
galloping away in alarm, and immediately afterwards a large portion of
the stonework collapsed, and, with a loud crash, fell to the ground,
leaving the relic much about the size which we see now.
There are mounds and hollows about the Abbey field which show how
extensive the buildings at one time were, covering several acres; and a
canal can be traced which had connection with the River Witham, which is
two fields distant. {239b} We here give a brief account of the Abbey.
The manor of Kirkstead was given by the Conqueror, along with that of
Tattershall, as above stated, to the Norman soldier, Eudo; and his son,
Hugh Fitz-Eudo, surnamed Brito, founded here a Cistercian monastery, in
1139, dedicated to the Virgin. The Abbey was very richly endowed from
more than one source. The Harleyan MSS. (144) give a full account of its
possessions (29 Henry VIII.). Its lands were situated in the city of
Lincoln, and in Horncastle, Nocton, Blankney, Branston, Metheringham,
Canwick, Sheepwash, Billingham, Thimbleby (where the Abbot had gallows),
Langton, Coningsby, South Langton, Scampton, Holton, Thornton, Stretton,
Wispington, Strutby, Martin, Sudthorpe, Roughton, Haltham, Benniworth,
Hedingley, Woodhall (with the advowson), Wildmore Fen (45,000 acres),
etc., besides property in the parishes of St. Andrew, Holborn, St.
Botolph, Aldersgate, and St. Nicholas, in the city of London; and the
further advowsons of the benefices of Covenham and Thimbleby. The Abbots
exercised the rights of hunting, fowling and fishing; an old Cartulary of
the Abbey {240a} states that “Robert son of Simon de Driby . . . grants
to the Abbot of Kirkstead to have their ‘mastiffs’ in his warren of Tumby
all times of the year, with their shepherds, to take and retake their
beasts in the said warren, without any contradiction of the said Robert
or his heirs.” “Witness Robert, son of Walter de Tatessal.” The demesne
in Wildmore was granted to the Abbey by Baron Robert Marmyon of
Scrivelsby, and William de Romara, Earl of Lincoln, jointly, on condition
that he should not allow any other parties to pasture on the lands, but
only themselves and their tenants. {240b} This William de Romara also
founded the Abbey of Revesby in the 8th year of Stephen, and both to that
Abbey and to Kirkstead he granted a Hermitage in Wildmore; and to show
the power of the Abbots of Kirkstead, it is recorded that when, in course
of time, Ralph de Rhodes, “the Lord of Horncastle,” succeeded to the
manorial rights in Wildmore, he, contrary to the grants of his
predecessors, “did bring in the said Wildmore other men’s cattell”;
thereupon a plea of covent was sued against him by the Abbot of
Kirkstead, with the result that a “fyne” was acknowledged by the said
“Ralfe de Rhodes.” Similarly, a Marmyon, successor of the one who made
the grant, “contrary to the graunt of his ancestors, did bring into
Wildmore other men’s cattell, whereupon a like plea of covent was sued
against him.” And in both these cases these secular lords had to yield
to the Abbot. “From which time,” the old Record states, “the said Abbots
have bene Lords of Wildmore, and peaceably and quietly have enjoyed the
same as true Lords thereof, without impedimte of any man.” {240c}
These successes, however, seem to have elated the spirit of the Abbots of
this monastery, and to have led them, in the pride of power, not always
to have due regard for the rights of others. As early as the reign of
Edward I., it was complained, before Royal Commissioners, that the Abbot
was guilty of sundry encroachments; that he obstructed passengers on the
King’s highway; {241a} that he made ditches for his own convenience which
flooded his neighbours’ lands; and that, from his power, inferior parties
could get no redress; {241b} that he prevented the navigation of the
Witham by any vessels but his own; {241c} that he trespassed on the
King’s prerogative by seizing “waifs and strays” over the whole of
Wildmore; {241d} that he had hanged various offenders at Thimbleby; had
appropriated to himself, without licence, the assize of bread and beer.
{241e} Further, he refused to pay, on certain lands, the impost called
“Sheriff’s aid,” {241f} or to do suit and service for his land, either in
the King’s Court or that of the Bishop of Carlisle at Horncastle. {241g}
Against none of which charges does it appear that he returned any
satisfactory answer. Yet, while thus acting with a high hand, he was not
above worldly traffic on a considerable scale, as is shewn by certain
Patent Rolls, {241h} where a note is given to the effect that, on May
1st, 1285, a licence was granted, at Westminster, for three years, “for
the Abbot of Kirkstead to buy wool throughout the county of Lincoln, in
order to satisfy certain merchants, to whom he is bound in certain sacks
of wool, his own sheep having failed through murrain;” while it was
further alleged that he carried on an extensive system of smuggling,
whereby it was calculated that some £2,000 a year were lost to the
corporation of Lincoln. Proceedings like these do not give us a very
favourable impression as to the virtues of these spiritual lords, their
charity, or their standard of morality. Yet, on the other hand, we have
to make allowance for the times and circumstances in which they lived. I
quote here a letter written by a Lincolnshire man who had viewed matters
from the different standpoints of an Anglican and a Romanist. {241i}
“You say ‘the monks were not saints.’ I have no doubt but a small
proportion were. Yet, taking them as a whole, the wonder is they were as
respectable as they were. It is not enough considered what the monastic
life was for several centuries. It was the refuge of hundreds and
thousands who could find no other occupation. There was no Navy as a
profession; the Army was not, in the sense we understand it, a
profession. Law and medicine were very restricted. What were men to do
with themselves? How to pass life? Where to go to live? There was next
to no education, no books hardly to read. How can we wonder that the
mass of monks were a very common kind of men, professedly very religious,
of necessity formally so, but taking their duties as lightly as they
could? The number of them who outraged their vows was wonderfully small.
The Inquisitions of Henry VIII.’s time, atrociously partial, as they
were, to find blame, found comparatively little. Compare the monks of
those days with the Fellows of Colleges in the last (18th) century, and
down almost to our own day. Were the former much lower in morals, if at
all? Less religious, if at all? I think not.” Nor should we forget
their unbounded hospitality, in an age when there were few inns for the
traveller, and no Poor Law for the destitute; their skill in horticulture
and agriculture, which were a national benefit; or their maintenance of
roads and bridges; apart from their guardianship of the Scriptures, and
their witness to Christianity. It has been said, “From turret and tower
sounded the well-known chime, thrice a day, to remind the faithful of the
Incarnation, and its daily thrice-repeated memorial” (F. G. Lee,
“Pilgrimage of Grace”). The poor were never forgotten in these
multiplied services. When mass was celebrated, it was a rule that the
sacristan rang the “sanctus” bell (from its cherished sanctity often the
only bell still preserved in our village churches), “so that the rustics
who could not be present might everywhere, in field or home, be able to
bow the knee to reverence” (Maskell’s “Ancient Liturgy,” p. 95.
“Constit.,” J. Peckham, A.D. 1281). If the strict rules of their
continuous services were occasionally relaxed by exhilarating sport, or
even, as the monks of Kirkstead are said to have done, by frequenting
fairs, as at Horncastle, their abbots presiding at the pastimes of the
people, {242} the Maypole processions and dances; or getting up
mystery-plays, or other exhibitions, perpetuated still at Nuremberg,
where our most cultivated Christians go to witness them; surely these
were comparatively harmless recreations. It must, however, be recognised
that, in time, prosperity had its usual corrupting effects. The
Aukenleck MS. (temp. Ed. II.) says, “these Abbots and Priors do again
their rights. They ride with hawk and hounds, and counterfeit knights.”
As the Bishop of Ely attended divine service, leaving his hawk on its
perch in the cloister, where it was stolen, and he solemnly
excommunicated the thief; or as the Bishop of Salisbury was reprimanded
for hunting the King’s deer; or as Bishop Juxon was so keen a sportsman
that he was said to have the finest pack of hounds in the kingdom; {243a}
so the Abbott of Bardney had his hunting box, and the Abbots of Kirkstead
excluded others from sporting on their demesnes, that they might reserve
the enjoyment for themselves. It is stated by Hallam (“History of the
Middle Ages”) that, in 1321, “the Archbishop of York carried a train of
200 persons, maintained at the expense of the monasteries, on his road,
and that he hunted with a pack of hounds, from parish to parish”; and
such an example would naturally be contagious. But it was only when
long-continued indulgence and immunity had pampered them to excess, that
laxity of morals became flagrant or general. And even when of this very
Kirkstead it is recorded that, at the time of the Dissolution, the Abbot,
Richard Haryson (1535) was fain to confess, in the deed of surrender,
that the monks had, “under the shadow of their rule, vainly detestably,
and ungodlily devoured their yearly revenues in continual ingurgitations
of their carrion bodies, and in support of their over voluptuous and
carnal appetites.” {243b} We cannot but suspect that such language was
that of their enemies, put into their mouths, when resistance was no
longer possible. They had, however, through long ages, acquired a
powerful hold on the respect and affection of the people, and there were
hundreds and thousands who were ready to say, what one once said of his
country,
England! with all thy faults, I love thee still. {244a}
That the many virtues and the value of the monasteries came to be
recognised by many after they were abolished is shewn by the “Pilgrimage
of Grace,” and similar indications of smouldering discontent among the
people whom they had long benefited. Yet there was always the danger
arising from the perfunctory observance of multiplied services, that the
“opus operatum” might oust the living faith; and there can be little
doubt that such a result had largely come about. Though greed and
plunder were the main motive of the Royal Executioner and his agents, the
parties who suffered had certainly become only fitting subjects for
drastic measures. But we pass from this digressive disquisition to the
one interesting relic of Kirkstead Abbey which is still spared to us, in
the little chapel standing in the fields, with reference to which I will
here quote the words of a writer to whom I have referred before. {244b}
He says, “A mile away from Woodhall is one of the loveliest little gems
of architecture in the country, a pure, little, Early English church, now
dreadfully dilapidated, which belonged, in some unexplained way,—probably
as a chantry chapel,—to the Cistercian Abbey of Kirkstead.” As this
little gem is now locked away from public view, I will here give extracts
from the description of it given by the late Bishop Suffragan, Dr. Edwd.
Trollope, one of our greatest authorities, on the occasion of the
Architectural Society’s visit to it a few years ago; and which was handed
to me by him at the time. They are worthy of careful examination.
“The situation of this lovely little chapel, on the south side of the
Abbey of Kirkstead, and without its precincts, is most remarkable. It
has been surmised that it may have served as the Abbot’s private chapel,
or for the use of the Abbey tenants; but I can scarcely think that either
of these suggestions is likely to be true, as such a chapel, so far from
the monastic building, and without its protecting girdle, would not have
been convenient for the Abbot’s use, and such an elaborately-ornamented
structure would scarcely have been erected simply for the monastic
churls. Had it been nearer the other buildings, and especially the great
Abbey church, we might have thought it had served as the Chapter-House,
on which much pains was always bestowed by the Cistercians, so that, in
richness of design, this usually ranked second only to the church itself.
I am inclined, however, to suggest that it was a chantry chapel, put
under the protection of the Abbey and served by its inmates according to
the Will of one of the former wealthy lords of Tattershall and Kirkstead,
whose burial place it eventually became.
“This beautiful little structure consists of an unbroken oblong,
supported by plain buttresses, insufficient to shore up its side walls
and bear the weight of its vaulted roof. A plain plinth constitutes the
footing of the structures, above which is a bold boutel string, below the
window sills, and it is surmounted by quarter round corbels which
originally supported a corbel table and a higher pitched roof than the
present one, not long ago (in the forties), covered with thatch. The
side windows consist of very narrow little lancets. At the east end is a
triplet, and at the west end structural ornaments of a most beautiful
kind have been most lavishly supplied. Owing to the loss of the gables
of this chapel, and its present hipped roof, its appearance at a distance
does not promise much, but, when approached, the remarkable beauty of its
design, and especially of its western elevation, will most assuredly
command admiration.
“From its own architectural evidence we may safely assume that it was
built during the first quarter of the 13th century, and it nearly
resembles the contemporary work in the north transept of Lincoln
Cathedral. The western facade is supported by a buttress on the south,
and a larger buttress on the north in the shape of a staircase turret,
the upper portion of which is now lost. Between these is one of the most
lovely doorways imaginable. Its jambs are first enriched by an inner
pair of pillars, having caps from which spring vigorously, and yet most
delicately, carved foliage; and then, after a little interval, two more
pairs of similar pillars, carrying a beautifully-moulded arch, one member
of which is enriched with the tooth mould. Above this lovely doorway, in
which still hangs the co-eval, delicately-ironed oak door, is an arcade
of similar work, in the centre of which is a pointed oval window of
beautiful design; but, through the loss of the gable above, this
elevation is sadly marred. In the north wall, close to the west end, is
a semi-circular-headed doorway, similar in general character to the
western one, but plainer. Its arched head, however, is charmingly
moulded, and has the tooth ornament worked upon its inner chamfer.
“Within, is a still more beautiful sight than without, for the whole of
the interior is, in every respect, admirable.
“A bold, boutel string runs round the walls about five feet from the
ground, and from this, at intervals, rise dwarf shafts surmounted by most
delicately carved caps, the foliation, of which almost looks as if it
might expand, and yield to the breeze. These serve as supporters to
vaulting principals, enriched with the tooth ornament, dividing the roof
vaulting into four squares, having large circular foliated bosses in the
middle, on the easternmost of which is also carved the holy Lamb and
bannered cross.
“In each bay of the side walls is a pair of lancet windows, except in the
westernmost one of the north wall, where the north doorway takes the
place of one of these, and close to this, in the west wall, is a little
doorway giving access to the turret staircase. The triplet at the east
end is simply exquisite. This consists of a central lancet and a smaller
one on either side, between which rise lovely clustered and handed
pillars, enriched with flowing foliated caps, supporting, with the aid of
corresponding responds enriched by the tooth ornament, lovely moulded
arches, on which the nail head ornament is used.
“Towards the east end of the south wall is a piscina, having a triangular
head and shelf groove. Towards the west end, on the north side, are
portions of some very valuable woodwork, apparently co-eval with the
chapel itself. These probably constituted the lower part of a rood
screen, and consist of slender pillars, supporting lancet-headed
arcading. They are now used as divisions between the seating, and are
most noteworthy. {246} There is also a respectable canopied pulpit, of
the time of James I., but scarcely worthy of the worship it seems to
invite, from its peculiar position at the east end of the chapel.
“I must now refer more particularly to a sepulchral effigy in the chapel.
The lower portion of this is lost, and the remainder is now reared up
against the south wall. This represents a knight in a hauberk of mail
covered by a surcoat, and drawing his sword slightly out of its sheath,
pendent on his left. At a low level on the right is his shield, and over
his coife de maille, or mail hood, covering his head, is a cylindrical
helm, slightly convex at the top, having narrow bands crossing it in
front, the horizontal one, which is wider than the other, or vertical
one, being pierced with ocularia, or vision-slits, but destitute of
breathing holes below. The head, thus doubly protected, rests upon a
small pillow, from which spring branches of conventional foliage. These
helms began to be worn about the opening of the 13th century; to which
breathing holes were added about 1225. Thus the armour of this knightly
effigy exactly coincides in date with the architecture of the chapel in
which it still remains, and it may well have served to commemorate Robert
de Tattershall and Kirkstead, who died 1212.”
To these remarks of the Bishop I here add some valuable observations made
by Mr. Albert Hartshorne, F.S.A., in a Paper read before the
Archæological Institute, {247} and reprinted for private circulation, on
“Kirkstead Chapel, and a remarkable monumental effigy there preserved.”
He says: “Reared against the south wall at the west end is a monumental
effigy in Forest marble, larger than life, of a man in the military
costume of the first quarter of the 13th century. He wears a cylindrical
helm, a hauberk, apparently hooded, a short surcote, and a broad
cingulum. The left arm is covered by a ponderous shield, and he draws a
sword in a scabbard. He wears breeches of mail, but the legs, from the
knees downward, are missing. The head rests upon a cushion, supported by
conventional foliage. The occurrence of a cylindrical flat-topped helm
in monumental sculpture is, of itself, sufficiently rare to merit a
notice. There are two examples of it at Furness Abbey, two at
Chester-le-street, one at Staindrop, and one at Walkern,—seven only in
all, so far as appears to be known. They occur in the seals of Hen.
III., Edward I., Alexander II. of Scotland, and Hugh de Vere. Actual
examples of such headpieces are certainly of the utmost rarity. There is
a very genuine one in the Tower, and another at Warwick Castle. Some
sham ones were in the Helmet and Mail Exhibition, held in the rooms of
the Institute in 1880, and are suitably exposed in the illustrated
catalogue of this interesting collection.” “Banded mail,” as it is
called, has been one of the archæological difficulties “of the past and
present generations, and the late Mr. Burges took great trouble in
endeavouring to unravel the mystery of its construction . . . having
casts made from the only four then known . . . effigies (with it) at
Tewkesbury, Tollard Royal, Bedford, and Newton Solney; but . . . he had
to confess, in the end, that he could make nothing satisfactory of it.
Here, at Kirkstead, is the fifth known sculptured example of banded mail
in the kingdom, and . . . it is the earliest example of all . . . it
resembles most the Newton Solney type; but I can throw no light upon the
mail’s construction, though I have long considered the subject, and must
leave the matter as I found it, twenty years ago, a mystery. If we are
to suppose, as the Bishop Suffragan has suggested, that a local lord
built Kirkstead chapel, then I am disposed to think, with him, that that
lord was Robert de Tattershall and Kirkstead, who died in 1212. The date
of that chapel may certainly be of about the same period, namely, a
little after the time of St. Hugh of Lincoln, and co-eval with the Early
English work of the second period in Lincoln Cathedral. The effigy may
very well have been set up to the memory of Robert de Tattershall, a few
years after his death.”
So far the Bishop and Mr. Hartshorne. We have only to add that, some
time in the forties, certain alterations were made, such as removing the
thatched roof and covering it with slates, taking away much rotten timber
and replacing it with fresh. Some so-called “unsightly beams” were also
removed, but they had probably been introduced at a very early period,
and it was, probably, also mainly due to them that the walls had not
fallen further outward than they had done. Whereas now, without any such
support, and with the massive stone roof pressing upon them, the
destruction of the building must be only a question of time, and that not
a very long one, unless some remedy is applied. I have a note, from
Baron Hubner’s “Travels through the British Empire,” {249} that “when the
town of Melbourne, in Australia, in 1836, was yet a small scattered
village, with wooden houses, wooden church, &c., a tree was the belfry.”
At that same period the bell of Kirkstead chapel also hung in a tree,
still standing at the south-west corner of the churchyard. Climbing up,
a few years ago, to examine the bell, I found the following, cut in the
lead under the bell turret: “Thomas Munsall, Nottingham, August, 1849;
Edward Gadsby, Nottingham, Aug., 1849. George Whitworth (of Kirkstead),
Joiner.” The two former slated the roof, and the last was the local
carpenter. The history of this church in modern times, as a place of
worship, has bean peculiar. The estate, having been bestowed upon the
Fiennes Clintons by Henry VIII., passed, in the 18th century, by
marriage, to the Disneys and the benefice, being a Donative and,
therefore, almost private property, Mr. Daniel Disney, being a
Presbyterian, appointed a minister of that persuasion to officiate; also
endowing it with lands which produced a stipend of £30 a year in 1720.
This gift was confirmed by his Will. Presbyterian ministers continued to
hold it till the death of a Mr. Dunkley in 1794. The manor had then been
sold to the Ellison family, and a suit was instituted to recover the
benefice to the Church of England; the case was tried at Lincoln Assizes
in 1812, when, by a compromise, the fabric was restored to the Church of
England; but the Presbyterian endowment remained in the hands of
trustees, who subsequently erected a Presbyterian chapel at Kirkstead,
and in more recent times, a manse was built in connection with it, now
occupied by the Rev. R. Holden. Dr. John Taylor, of Norwich, was one of
the ministers appointed by Mr. Disney. He held it some 18 years, from
1715, and here composed his Concordance, in 2 vols. In 1876 the church
was visited by the Architectural Society, when, in consequence of its
dangerous condition, it was closed by order of the Bishop, awaiting
restoration, and it awaits it still.
Of this interesting structure no one can get any view of the interior
beyond (strange to say) what can be seen through the keyhole. May we
hope that the Rontgen Rays may soon be sufficiently developed to enable
us to photograph it through the boards of the ancient door, the hinges of
which, we may add, are worthy of notice. I conclude these remarks upon
it with the words of a former owner, {250a} who was inspired to write of
it thus:—
This ancient chanel! Still the House of God,
And boasting still the consecrated sod,
’Neath which, where ancient oaks, wide-spreading, shade,
The rude forefathers of the place were laid.
Fair, too, as ancient, is that holy place,
Its walls and windows richest traceries grace;
While clusters of the lightest columns rise,
And beauties all unlooked for, there surprise.
’Twas well, when Ruin smote the neighbouring Pile,
It spared this humbler Beauty to defile.
. . . . . . . . .
O! ’Tis a gem of purest taste, I ween,
Though little it be known, and seldom seen.
The writer may add that he has himself twice made strenuous efforts,
backed most earnestly by the late Bishop Wordsworth, and has sent out
many hundreds of appeals for aid, to prevent this little gem going to
ruin; but, owing to apathy and indifference, where they should not have
been found, those efforts proved futile. He can only reiterate the
warning words of Mr. Albert Hartshorne:—“I know not whether such aid will
be forthcoming; but of two things I am quite certain: if nothing is done
the chapel must collapse, and that very soon; and when it does so fall,
it will become such an utter ruin that it would be quite impossible to
put it up again.” {250b}
One more historical incident, of more than local interest, may here just
be mentioned. It has already been stated that after the Dissolution the
Abbey lands were granted by Henry VIII. to Charles Brandon, Duke of
Suffolk, and that, on the death of his issue the King granted them to the
Fiennes Clinton family, in the person of Lord Clinton and Saye,
afterwards Earl of Lincoln. In this family they remained for several
generations, until by marriage they passed to the Disneys. In the time
of the unhappy King Charles I., families were often divided, one party
remaining true to the Sovereign, and a relative espousing the cause of
the Commonwealth. But Henry Clinton, alias Fynes, remained staunch to
his King, providing horse and arms for the Royalist cause. This, no
doubt, brought him not a few enemies; and in consequence he had the great
compliment paid him of being granted a deed of “Protection” by his
grateful sovereign. We cannot give the whole here, but it is entitled
“Protection of Mr. Henry Fynes & his Wyfe.”
“(Endorsed) by Major Markham of ye Lyfeguards,” and is headed “Charles R
. . . whereas Wee are informed that Henry Fynes of Christed Abbey . . .
and his wyfe are, and have been, in all these rebellious times, persons
very loyall and well affected to us and our service, wee are graciously
pleased to grant them this our speciall Protection, &c., &c. . . . given
at our Court at Oxford ye 7th day of February, 1643.” A fac-simile copy
of the original is given in “Linc. N. & Q.,” vol. i. (1889), p. 22.
To any of his kith and kin who may still be living among us, and they are
not few, it may be a pleasure and a pride to reflect that their ancestor
“of Christed” shewed himself a true man in times when it needed some
courage to do so. None of them could have a better motto to abide by, in
all things, than that of the head of the House, “Loyaltè n’a honte,”
Loyalty is not ashamed.
Our lengthy peregrinations have now brought us, once more, within a mile
of Woodhall Spa; thither let us proceed, “rest and be thankful.”
* * * * *
And now, gentle readers, it would seem we have arrived at a fitting
“period, or full stop,” in our somewhat arduous undertaking; and here we
might well shake hands and finally part company,—we would fain hope, with
a hearty “au revoir.”
I find myself much in the mood of the Alpine guide who feels that he has
had more than one long day with his trusty alpenstock, although with a
willing heart in the work, and, we might say, even proud that he has been
able to show his party through so many attractive scenes. He stands, as
it were, before them, hat in hand {251} awaiting the “pour boire,” the
due recompense of his services. Freely he has given, freely he hopes to
receive, that he may retire to his quiet châlet on the hill, where he may
rest awhile, till perchance he finds a fresh engagement. But, at this
juncture, he is accosted by one of the party to this effect: “Mon cher
Guide Walder, you have taken us through more than one enjoyable round in
your interesting country. We have looked with pleasure upon many a long
vista in the past, and on many a wide-spreading prospect of varied
character. You have, indeed, given us a bonne-bouche, to finish with, in
Kirkstead, but we would ask, ‘Why have you omitted Somersby, Somersby not
so very far away, and hallowed as the birth-place of the Bard of the
Century, who is reckoned as one of the High Priests of Poesy, wherever
our English tongue is spoken?’” We confess the omission. Our apology
is, that our excursions have already, in the more immediate
neighbourhood, been only too long. As to Somersby, as its associations
are _sui generis_, so it lies in a direction of its own; not easily to be
combined with other places of interest; but the fault can be remedied.
Quid multa? A short supplementary excursion is arranged; and we are to
muster on the morrow for the last, but not least, of our Looks at
Lincolnshire.
SUPPLEMENTARY.
In the year 1890, an enthusiastic Tennysonian, giving an account in the
“Globe” newspaper, of an excursion to Somersby, which he approached from
Louth, says that he was somewhat disgusted to find that his Jehu, though
familiar with every ragamuffin on the road, and with the gossip and
traditions of the villages through which they passed, had never heard the
name of Tennyson. Somersby itself, at the time when Tennyson there
enjoyed ramble and reverie, was so withdrawn from the outer world that it
is said that the battle of Waterloo was not heard of there until a month
after it had been fought. But all this has now been changed, and is
changing. Not long ago, the proprietor of Somersby (now, alas! an
absentee), complained to the writer that his carpets were being worn into
holes by the feet of the many pilgrims to this modern poetic “Mecca,” who
seemed to think they had a right freely to intrude everywhere; with the
barren compensation to himself that his paternal home was becoming
historical. Sympathising fully with the country squire whose privacy has
been thus invaded, we are now ourselves about to make the pilgrimage,
which may soon be as common as that to the birthplace of the immortal
Bard of Avon.
Having arrived at Horncastle by train, or otherwise, we pass through the
town, by Market-place, Bull Ring, and over the far bridge, where we turn
due eastward, by East street. At the end of a mile or so we arrive at
High Toynton, with a modern church of Spilsby sandstone on our right, in
good condition, but of no special interest; here we turn to the left, and
100 yards further on, again eastward to the right. We are now on the
Wolds, and have before us a steady rise, followed by three steepish
descents with their corresponding rises, till, as we approach Holbeck
Hall, we see before us, to the left, a hill in the shape of an obtuse
truncated cone. This is Hoe Hill (Norse ‘hof,’ holy and so possibly a
sacred place for heathen worship; or, the Norse ‘haugr’ or ‘howe,’ a
burial place, possibly the resting-place of some Viking chief, the names
all round having Danish elements). It has a Dyke, or scarpment, running
round it, like a collar, and was probably a British or Danish encampment;
geologically it consists of ironstone, quite distinct from the sandstone
formation on the lower ground. At Holbeck it is worth the while to turn
in at the Lodge gate, and proceed some 250 yards along the drive, when we
find ourselves among very pretty scenery; the modern Hall confronting us,
built by the late J. Fardell, Esq., who was M.P. for Lincoln for about a
week. We pause in a woody dell with a picturesque lake and rocks on each
side of us. (N.B.—In these rocks the badger still survives). Retracing
our steps into the main road again, and some 200 yards back towards
Horncastle, by a guide-post the road turns off southward, and, following
this, we arrive at Ashby Puerorum, or Ashby “of the boys,” so called to
distinguish it from the other two Ashbys, not far off, the name being
derived from the fact that certain lands in the parish are appropriated
to the maintenance of the choristers of Lincoln Cathedral, the Dean and
Chapter being patrons of the benefice. The road here is somewhat
tortuous, but we find our way to the church, the chancel of which was
restored by the patrons in 1869, and the rest of the building in 1877.
It is a small fabric, consisting of nave, north aisle, chancel, small
porch, and western tower. The main building is Early English. A lancet
window still remains in the south wall, and at the west end of the aisle.
The other windows of the nave are mostly Perpendicular. On the south
side of the chancel is a two-light, square-headed, decorated window. The
arcade has two chamfered arches, on low cylindrical piers. The tower is
a low, stunted example of Perpendicular, the green sandstone
picturesquely patched with brick. The west doorway is well proportioned,
and the three-light Perpendicular window above, and the tower arch, are
plain but good. There is a plain octagonal font. On the south wall is a
brass to Richard Littlebury, of Stainsby, in the parish (obiit 1521); his
wife Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Edmund Jenny, of Suffolk (died 1523); and
their ten children. The brass, according to Haines, was not cut till
1560, at the same time with another of a knight in armour, now without
inscription, but probably one of the six sons of the above. In the
pavement is a the incised slab of blue marble, representing a priest in
Eucharistic vestments, with chalice on the breast. The head, hands,
chalice, and other portions were of brass, but these have disappeared.
As has been elsewhere stated, in 1794, a Roman sepulchre was discovered
three feet below the surface,—a stone chest, containing an urn of strong
glass of greenish hue. The urn held small pieces of calcined bone, and,
among them, a small lacrimatory of very thin green glass. Sir Joseph
Banks thought it not improbable that, some day, the site of a Roman villa
might be found near at hand. {254}
We again take to the main road, due eastward, and at the distance of
another mile or so, we arrive at a steep descent, embowered in lofty
trees; and, at the foot of this, “The Brook,” immortalized by the
Laureate, winds its musical way beneath the road, under a bridge. To the
left we see its course (where the writer has ofttimes “tickled” his
trout), through a green meadow, as it issues from the wood named “Holy
Well.” To the right it speeds onward through low-lying lands until it is
lost in the distance.
Proceeding along the narrow lane,—so narrow, indeed, that only at certain
points can two vehicles pass each other, and shut in by banks of
sandstone,—we reach, on the right, a well in the rock, the latter green
and grey with moss, lichen and fern, the water clear as crystal. It is,
indeed, a lonely, quiet spot, fit place for musing meditation, in a
poet’s wanderings. Just a cottage or two to remind one that there is a
population, but not obtrusive. The rectory is the second, and larger, of
two houses on the right, though now occupied as a farmhouse. It is a
quaint, unpretending, old-time residence, uniting manor house and rectory
in one. At its eastern end is a semi-ecclesiastical addition, with
pointed windows having coloured glass of no particular merit. In the
ground-floor apartment in this is a carved mantlepiece, the work of the
Laureate’s father. Just beyond is a brick castellated building, “The
Grange,” said to have been designed by Vanbrugh. Its construction is
massive, and its curious cellars and other details make it something of a
“Romance in brick.” Certainly it is a fair example of that solid style
of building which gave rise to his (suggested) epitaph,—
Lie heavy on him, Earth; for he
Laid many a heavy weight on thee.
One can hardly help feeling that it must have been a reduction from some
original, more ambitious, design; and those gloomy cellars may well have
harboured the smuggler, or his illicit hoards, in days when not only
humbler boards, but the table of parson and squire, boasted unblushingly
of the “Schiedam” which had not paid duty, and was thought the better of
it. This house is the reputed home of Tennyson’s “Northern Farmer,”
whose dialect, however, as given by the poet, is generally considered by
experts, however picturesque, to be considerably overdrawn. {255} In
Somersby itself, except for its secluded beauty, there would be little to
interest the visitor were it not for its association with the early years
of the Tennysons. And one of the present writer’s earliest recollections
is, as a small boy, driving his sisters, in a donkey cart through the
village; when they were accosted by two strollers on the road, one of
whom was Alfred Tennyson, then on a visit to the rectory, and not yet
Laureate.
The Church of Somersby has little of interest, beyond a small brass with
kneeling figure of George Littlebury, dated 1612; a stoup in the porch,
and over the porch a sundial, with the legend “Time passeth,” dated 1751.
The tower, however, has two good mediæval bells. In repairing the tower
in 1883, a fine window in its western face was removed and replaced by an
inferior one (Saunders “Hist.,” vol. ii., p. 173). The modern
restoration, with bright tiling of the floor, gives a brand-new
appearance, rather out of keeping with the almost crumbling low tower,
and rustic surroundings. The one really interesting feature is the
churchyard cross. It is of Perpendicular date, tall, well designed, and
with octagonal shaft gracefully tapering from the base to a corona, and
having above that a cross, which, possibly owing to the very retired
position of the village, has escaped the iconoclast. It has, on one
side, the Crucifixion, and on the other the Virgin and Infant Saviour.
It is almost unique in its very good state of preservation, the Puritans
having generally ruthlessly mutilated such erections. Several models of
it, in bronze, were made some years ago to the order of the late Mr. C.
J. Caswell, and were speedily sold off as memorials of Tennyson. It has
also recently been reproduced in the churchyard of Huttoft, in this
county, where the church was restored, in 1895, by Mr. W. Scorer,
architect, of Lincoln.
One of the places visited should be Holy Well wood. It is a leafy dell,
where tower up lofty trees still vigorous, while others are lying rotting
on the ground.
Nature in her old wild way,
Life blending closely with decay.
The thin stream twines about their roots, or springs over sandstone bars,
in sylvan, solitude. The spot was described, years ago, by Howitt in his
“Homes and Haunts of English Poets.” A local authority says that, once
upon a time, a series of steps led down to the well, where an upright
post was fixed, and a cross-bar from it was secured to the rock. On this
cross-bar was an iron ring and a cable, by which a bather could let
himself down for a dip in the well; and an old servant of the Tennyson
family could remember when numbers of people came to take the water,
which was considered to have health-giving properties. {256}
The manor of Somersby goes with that of Bag Enderby, and the benefices
are held together, being barely a mile apart. The church of the latter
is rather more interesting than that of Somersby, and it would be a pity
not to see it, while we are so far, or near. It was built by Albin de
Enderby, who died in 1407. Some of the windows, as the three-light one
at the east end of the chancel, and others are Perpendicular; while
others are of the Decorated style, but probably of the same date. There
is some interesting old iron-work on the original oak door in the porch.
The font is octangular, Perpendicular; on the bowl is carved the figure
of the Virgin, supporting on her knees the dead body of the Saviour; a
shield, on which is cut the spear, and hyssop with sponge, crosswise; the
cross and crown of thorns; a deer couchant with head turned back, and
feeding on the leaves of a tree; and other more ordinary devices. The
chancel arch is fine, and there are some remains of a screen. All the
windows would seem to have been originally filled with delicately-painted
14th century glass, of which fragments retrain. In the westernmost
window of the south wall of the nave is a shield bearing the arms of
Croyland Abbey. In the central alley of the nave are two fine Purbeck
marble slabs, bearing legends on brass plates. {257} On the north wall
of the chancel is a stone mural monument commemorating Andrew and Dorothy
Gedney, with their two sons and two daughters, kneeling before two
prayer-desks, in the costume of their period. In the churchyard is the
base of a cross, the upper part having been removed some years ago. The
font stands on a sepulchral slab, which has been ruthlessly cut into for
the purpose.
As the name Enderby is sometimes, in old documents, written Hinterby, an
idea has been broached that the prefix “Bag,” means “back,” or
“hinder-by.” But, as we are in the region of sand and sandstone,
abounding in burrows, it would seem more likely that the Bag is the
badger; after a similar form to Bagshot, in Surrey, _i.e._, Bag or
Badger’s holt; Bagley, near Oxford; Badgeworth, near Cheltenham (from
which last neighbourhood the writer has a badger-skin), &c. An
alternative derivation, of course, is the word Bag, or Bage, _i.e._,
“turf,” for fuel, which might be not unlikely in Lincolnshire; but as
“Bag” enters into place-names all over the kingdom, where the word “Bag,”
for turf, is not used, this is hardly a likely explanation.
A short extension of our travels eastwards, through pretty scenery, with
bold rising ground—Somersby Top, Warden Hill, &c.—capped by woods, brings
us to Harrington, where we find an interesting old mansion belonging to
Sir H. D. Ingilby, built in the reign of James II. with old-time garden,
having parterres and terraces and extensive lawns, but, unfortunately,
not at present occupied, and much decayed. There is a very interesting
church, almost entirely rebuilt by the late Rector, Rev. R. W. Cracroft,
in 1855, but retaining a series of fine monuments of his own connections,
the Knightly family of the Coppledykes; the earliest of these, Sir John
de Harrington, temp. Edward I., was a Crusader. His effigy lies on an
altar tomb, beneath an arch in the south wall, at the east end of the
nave. He is in complete armour, cross-legged, his hands joined in
prayer. The next is a slab in the chancel floor, once having brass
effigies, but which, with the inscription, have been removed. It
commemorated John Coppledyke and his wife Margaret Tilney, and bore date
1480. Her effigy is now affixed to the wall of the chancel. The third
is that of John Coppledyke, who died in 1552. Then there is the recessed
altar-tomb of his son, also John, who died in 1585. It is in the Tudor
style, altar and canopy all of Purbeck marble. Opposite is the monument
of his brother Francis and his wife, the former dying in 1590. Then come
tombs of the Elizabethan and Jacobean period. This typical series closes
with the tomb of Thomas, the nephew of Francis, described in the epitaph
as “the last and best of his race.” The tower and font are the originals
preserved; the latter bears on one of its faces the arms of Tilney
impaling Coppledyke, shewing that it was the joint gift of John and
Margaret, towards the end of the fifteenth century.
We have taken these latter two churches because they lie within easy
reach from Somersby, the main object of our excursion, and they add to
its interest. We now turn homewards again, but by a different route. We
might, from Somersby, have visited Salmonby, barely a mile away, where
there is a restored church with some interesting features; and we might
also have included a visit to Tetford, a large village or small town,
equi-distant from Somersby, with a fairly large church, but in a very bad
condition and much needing careful restoration. But these we are
constrained to omit, as the day’s excursion is to be a short one. From
Harrington, we turn south-west, and climb a hill of some mile in extent,
to the pleasant village of Hagworthingham, where we find a model church,
beautifully situated. It has been largely rebuilt, but retains some
ancient features, which show that the structure was originally Early
English. This style has been retained. The church has nave, chancel,
south aisle, tower and south porch. The arcade is of four bays, with
arches rising from low cylindrical piers, with moulded capitals, earlier
than the arches which they support. These low arches give a kind of “dim
religious light” to the fabric. The antiquarian, Gervase Holles, says
{259} of this church: “On a gravestone of blue marble, in ye body of ye
Church is pourtrayed in brasse one in compleat armour, bearing upon ye
manches of his coate of armes on either side 2 crescents. Between his
feet a right hand couped. The rest is defaced.” At the present time the
whole of this is gone. The font has a plain octagonal basin, supported
by a group of Early English shafts. The tower is low and square, its
greenish sandstone being relieved by an intermixture of brick, and has a
good peal of bells. The church is well cared for in every way, and its
position perfect. Three-quarters of a mile south there is a very
interesting church at Lusby, but, although some of its peculiar features
would well repay a visit, it is slightly out of our beat, and we must
draw the line somewhere. We have between four and five miles of steep
hills and valleys between us and Horncastle, a route which cannot be
hurried over, and we must push on. From Greetham Hill, on a clear day,
we command a view across the Wash, into Norfolk, to our left, while to
our right we again see towering up, 25 miles away, the mass of Lincoln
Minster.
The peculiar feature of this supplementary excursion is that it affords a
revelation to those strangers to Lincolnshire who imagine the county to
be flat as a billiard table. We have been truly travelling, as was said
by a Dutch sportsman, 300 years ago (whom I have quoted in a previous
chapter), in “Lincolniensi montium tractu” (“Fuller’s Worthies,” p. 150),
“among the mountains of Lincolnshire.”
Here we bring our Records and excursions to a close. Like Vikings of old
(under a figure) we have harried the country round, and (in a sense)
ravished its many charms. We have explored shrines consecrated by olden
memories, enriched by the associations of centuries; but (unlike the
Vikings), we have done this in no irreverent spirit, and with no
predatory purpose. We have carried off our hoards of treasure, but we
have left no ill traces behind us of our raid. No burning monasteries or
homesteads have marked our track; no orphaned children or widowed wives
follow us with their execrations. Enriching ourselves, we have not
impoverished others, and the country is still open for further
investigation, with, doubtless, many a nook yet unexplored, and many a
mushy folio unopened, whence others may extract materials of further
interest. On the whole we trust that our readers will endorse the words
of a Lincolnshire man whom we have already quoted more than once, {260}
that, although ours may be “a county which few have defended, still fewer
have praised, and too many have depreciated”; yet that it does possess
many objects and associations of no small interest, and that not the
least of these are to be found in the Records of Woodhall Spa, and its
neighbourhood.
This is hardly the place to moralise, nor have we space to do so to more
than a very limited extent; yet two reflections seem to force themselves
upon us as the result of the archæological enquiries which have produced
the last three chapters of this work. One of these is the evil
consequences of a barren formalism in religion. The monkish perfunctory
services, with their “vain repetitions” and “long players,” reduced the
individual well-nigh to the level of a praying machine, which could run
off, as it were, from the reel, so many litanies in a given time, with
little effort of intellect, and only a blind exercise of faith; both
fatal to religious vitality. The dissolution of the monasteries, which
were, perhaps, more abundant in our own neighbourhood than in any other
similarly limited area in the kingdom, is not only a fact in history, but
also may be an object-lesson in a different age. At the close of the
enlightened 19th century we witnessed a church—may I not almost say, a
nation?—convulsed over questions of religious ceremonial, which, to minds
endeavouring to take a sober and unbiassed view, seem bordering on the
puerile, compared with the weightier matter of the religion of heart and
life. We can hardly help exclaiming, “Oh, that practical Englishmen
would spend their energies on larger issues rather than thus give a
handle to their enemies!” There is such a thing as “having the form of
godliness without the indwelling power thereof.” From such let us turn
away, or history may, even yet, repeat itself.
There can be no doubt that the plunder of the monasteries was primarily,
though not avowedly, caused by the greed of a master mind, in
Wolsey—whose extravagance needed “the sinews of war,” acting upon a
desire for revenge, deeply seated in the heart of a Sovereign,
self-convicted we may well believe, but stubbornly clinging to his sin;
whose unjustifiable act, in the divorce of Catherine of Aragon, outraged
the national sense of right, but especially was condemned by the
religious orders. Yet, none the less, though brought about by unworthy
motives, and the result, as it were, of side issues, the destruction of
those institutions, with all their virtues and their manifold usefulness,
coincided with a condition of things, widely prevalent, which rendered
them only “fit for the burning.” They had, indeed, served their
generation, and more than one, but they had become “carrion” in the
nostrils, and, “where the carcase” was, “the vultures” of retribution,
almost in the natural order of events, were “gathered together.”
A second reflection tends in an opposite direction.
A reactionary sentiment of our day is to make an idol of the great
figure-head of Puritanism. We had lately (April 25, 1899) a celebration
of the Tercentenary of Cromwell; in the place of his birth he has been
made use of (by a strange stroke of irony) as an apostle of education.
Projects are on foot for erecting his statue in positions of honour. Yet
we see still in our own neighbourhood, as well as elsewhere, traces of
the almost universal desecration of our holy places perpetrated by the
fanaticism which he fostered and guided. Was Henry VIII. an Iconoclast,
in shattering the monasteries? No less was the crime of Puritanism in
dismantling our churches and stripping them of treasures which were
beyond price. The antiquarian Carter says, “Before the hand of
destruction wrought such fatal devastation, every sacred edifice
throughout England, whether of confined or extended dimensions, teemed
with a full and resplendent show of painted glass, all equally excellent,
all equally meritorious” (Remarks on York Minster, Winkle’s “Cathedrals,”
vol. i., p. 54, n. 30). In confirmation of this I take two instances:
Four miles away we have the fine Church of Coningsby, and we have in
these pages (pp. 222–226) a detailed description of the splendid series
of coloured windows which formerly adorned that church. We ask, “Where
are they now?” and echo can only reiterate “Where?” But for Gervase
Holles, a Lincolnshire man and formerly M.P. for Grimsby, we should not
now know that they ever existed. We take another case, one of the
humblest structures in our neighbourhood, the church of Langton, and we
have records given by the same authority of windows once existing here
whose blazonry connected it with the ancient families of Everingham, de
Seyrt, Skipwith, Bec, Ufford, and Willoughby. Where are they now? The
wave of Puritanism has swept away every trace of them. Somersby indeed
retains its churchyard cross, almost an isolated instance. The Puritan
axe and hammer missed it, no thanks to them. The beautifully-carved
fragments of destroyed monasteries, preserved perhaps as relics on our
garden rockeries warn us of the dangers of mere formalism in religion.
The Puritan spoliation of our holy places warns us against fanaticism and
irreverence. Turn neither to the right hand nor to the left. In medio
tutissimus ibis. We may well “hark back” to the devotion of our
forefathers, but from either extreme, Domine, dirige nos.
And now there only remains the duty, or, rather, the privilege, of saying
one parting word more. A Preface may be called a pre-post-erous
production, because, though standing at the head of a book, it is almost
invariably written after the book is finished, and when the author can
take a general review of his work. In the present instance this was
impossible. The exigencies of the situation—these Records first
appearing as a weekly series in “The Horncastle News”—required that the
Introduction, to stand at their head, should be written when the work
itself was yet only an embryo conceived in the writer’s brain. He may
truly be said to have begun _ab ovo_. He knew, indeed, generally, his
own intentions, but he could not possibly, as yet, tell the exact form in
which they would be embodied, and, as an unavoidable consequence, in the
present case, as in not a few others, what should naturally be the head
is here found where the tail should be. The real Preface closes, instead
of introducing, the writer’s work to his readers.
A general outline, indeed, of the work had been laid down on paper more
than a dozen years ago. During that interval (as also for several years
before it) the materials had been accumulating; but still, when the work
actually began to take shape, the writer was standing, as it were, at one
end of a coil, of which he could not see the other; the windlass was
letting down a chain into depths which his eye could not penetrate, nor
his knowledge yet reach.
The outline originally sketched out has really in one only particular
been departed from, but, in the process of its evolution, the thread has
considerably stretched. The Clotho of its destiny has spun a longer web
than had been foreseen by the writer. On coming to closer quarters with
his subject, materials multiplied beyond his expectations, and but for
the pruning knife, the result would have been still larger than it is.
How much the author is indebted to the previous industry of others is
shewn by the number of the footnotes, and other references in the text,
which together amount to close upon five hundred. Others have laboured
and he has entered into their labours, and his object, in this, as it
were, post-prandial utterance, is to own, with gratitude, the varied
viands—epulæ lautissimæ—which he has found spread before him. He would
say, with Cicero, opipare epulati sumus; and yet there are many baskets
of fragments left.
He would also here express his thanks for the unvaried kindness with
which his personal visits, in search of local information, have been
welcomed; for the helpful response always made to his enquiries; as well
as for the sympathy shewn towards his undertaking. But for these the
work could not have attained its present dimensions, nor could much of
its most interesting matter have been obtained; while, further they have
made the work a task of real pleasure to himself. He can only say, in
conclusion that if others should find, in the perusal of these pages,
even a tithe of the entertainment which he has himself found in the
compilation of them, he will be more than satisfied—gratified—by the
result.
A GLOSSARY OF LINCOLNSHIRE WORDS & PHASES.
_Argufy_. To matter, be of importance. “It does not argufy at all,”
_i.e._ “It does not signify,” or “It makes no difference.”
_Bab_. A sort of dredge, with hooks below it, to clear out fen drains of
the weeds.
_Bage_. A paring of turf formerly used for fuel.
_Bandy-ball_. The game of hockey, also called shinty or shindy.
_Banker_. A navvy employed in digging or repairing fen drains.
_Bat_. A small bundle of straw or grass.
_Battle-twig_. An earwig.
_Baulk_. Hiccough.
_Bealto_. To squeal, or bawl, used of a child screaming.
_Beastlings_. The first milk drawn from a cow after calving, which is
specially rich.
_Beck_. A brook. Reed’s beck, Odd’s beck.
_Bested_. Beaten. “He will best you,” _i.e._ get the better of you.
_Bevering-time_. Luncheon time. Compare “Beverage.”
_Blowns_. Exclamation of surprise. Compare “Zounds,” (supposed to be a
contraction of “God’s wounds.”) Blowns probably a contraction of “blood
and wounds,” _i.e._ of Christ.
_Boon_, _to_. To repair the roads. The road surveyor was called the
boon master.
_Bran in the face_. Freckles.
_Brat_. A child. Term of contempt, “Take that tiresome brat away.”
_Breed_. Each separate line of walk when a party is shooting through a
wood.
_Breer_. The strip of grass between a ditch, and the ploughed land of a
field. 3d. per chain was paid for cleaning out a ditch and mowing the
breer.
_Brock_. Sheep dung dried to be used as fuel.
_Brog_. To pierce holes with a stick, &c. “Brog him in the ribs,”
_i.e._ poke him.
_Bub_ or _bubbling_. A young bird, a fledgling.
_Bule-ding_. The common pronunciation of “building.”
_Bully_. The sloe, wild fruit of the black thorn. Bullace cheese is
made from it.
_By-name_. A nick-name. Compare by-word _i.e._ ill-repute.
_Causey_. Causeway. Commonly used of the brick paved yard of a cottage.
_Cazzlety_. Fickle and uncertain in temper.
_Chickering_. Chirping of the cricket on the hearth, or of a chicken.
_Chittapag_. A woman fond of using fine words.
_Chuck_, _to_. To throw. Chuck-penny, to play at pitch and toss.
_Clagged_. Draggle-tailed with mud and dirt. Of an untidy woman.
_Clatty_. Dirty. Of roads after rain.
_Clegg_. Matted wool on hedges, &c.
_Clout_. A cloth, dish-cloth, &c.
_Clout_. A knock or blow, as “Fetch him a clout on the head.”
_Connyfogled_. Cheated, outwitted.
_Crizzle_, _to_. To crystalize or freeze. “The window is crizzled.”
_Daking_. A dyke or ditch.
_Dither_. To shudder with alarm or dislike. To shiver with cold.
_Dythe_. Cow dung dried for fuel.
_Fell_. Hurtful or fierce. “The flies are very fell this close
weather.”
_Frit_. Frightened, affrighted.
_Gabblick_. A crowbar.
_Gallous_. Frisky or lively (of youth).
_Glegging_. Glancing slily. “That sly girl’s glegging eye.”
_Glib_. Smooth (of ice). Smooth and ready of tongue.
_Gout_. A sluice by which water passes from one drain to another.
_Gozny_. To look. To look stupid.
_Grizzley_. To shade with grey. “The evening is grizzling.”
_Hag’s place_. A situation of hard work and drudgery. Fit only for a
poor hag.
_Hap up_, _to_. To wrap up, in shawl, paper, &c.
_Harr_. A fog. An old writer says “The air of the fens was crass, and
full of rotten harrs.” A “sea-harr” is a fog coining inland from the
sea.
_Heppen_. Handy at work. Helpful.
_Hing_, _to_. To hang. This gate hings well.
_Hirpling_. Limping in gait.
_How_. Way or mode of acting. “Do it i’ that how, and you’ll be right.”
_Hug_, _to_. To carry. “Hugging about a big load.”
_Ill-convenient_. Inconvenient.
_Keck_. A large plant of the Hemlock species.
_Kid_. A faggot.
_Lamb-toe_. The plant “Lady’s fingers,” Lotus corniculatus.
_Lap up_, _to_. To wrap up.
_Leather_. A ladder.
_Leathering_. A beating. “If you don’t keep quiet I’ll give you a good
leathering.”
_Letten_. Perf. of to let. “He has letten ’em go,” _i.e._ allowed them
to go.
_Lig_, _to_. To lie, down, &c.
_Lug_, _the ear_. The plant Mouse-ear (Myosotis Arvensis) is called
mouse-lug.
_Lick_, _to_. To beat, “Give him a licking.” To be beyond anyone’s
power. “It licks me how they can do it,” _i.e._ I cannot understand.
_Lug_, _to_. To drag. “Why are you lugging (_i.e._ dragging) that bairn
about?”
_Marguery_. The herb Mercury, also called “Good King Henry.”
_Mithered_. Muddled, dazed, stupid.
_Mizzlings_. The measles.
_Moiling_. Working hard, toiling.
_Mort_. A large quantity. “Working a mort of hours,” _i.e._ many hours.
“That tree has a mort of blossoms.”
_Mud_ or _mun_. Must. “I mun (or mud) do it or I shall be wrong.”
_Nag-nail_. A corn on the foot.
_Nautling_. Towering up, a steeple or tall tree.
_Neb_. A bird’s beak.
_Nobby_. Handy, clever, ready of resource.
_Nowt_. Nothing. Worth nowt means worthless, good-for-nothing.
_Overset_, _to_. To overcome or surmount trial. “He’s been very badly
(_i.e._ ill) and cannot overset it,” _i.e._ get over it.
_Owry_. Dirty, of roads after rain.
_Pad_. Path. A footpad is a footpath.
_Pedigree_. A long story, as of some grievance.
_Petty_. An outside W.C.
_Pig’s-paut_. Pig’s foot, a trotter.
_Pismire_. An ant.
_Plasens_. Places. “I’ve seen many plasens but this licks ’em all.”
(See lick.)
_Posy_. A bunch of flowers, bouquet.
_Pry_. Name of a field. Pry-close (from praie, coarse grass.)
_Puddock_. A kite or buzzard.
_Purr_. A poker. “Purr the fire,” _i.e._ poke it.
_Quirking_. Nimble, active, as a monkey.
_Ramper_. The highway (probably rampart).
_Remble_, _to_. To move a thing out of the way. “Remble that chair,”
&c.
_Ratle_ or _Reightle_. To set to rights, arrange in order. “Lassy,
ratle them things.”
_Screeved_. Split up on the ice. Cattle in former frozen fen floods
were thus ruptured and killed.
_Shale_, _to_. To walk awkwardly, shuffle along.
_Shan_. Shy. Of horses or cattle frightened at an object.
_Shift_, _to_. To move anything to another place.
_Shiv_ or _Shiver_. A splinter of wood. “I’ve got a shiv in my finger.”
_Shout_! A flat-bottomed fen boat.
_Shove_, _to_. To push anything along, or out of the way.
_Shugh_! An expression of disbelief. Shugh! Nonsense! I don’t believe
it.
_Shut_. Rid. To get shut (_i.e._ rid) of anything not needed, or a
nuisance.
_Sicker_, _to_. To soak, as water oozing through a rotten bank.
_Sidle_. To walk aside, or indirectly, towards anyone. “Sidle up to her
quietly.”
_Sile_, _to_. To pour. “It siles wi’ rain.”
_Skelp_, _to_. To empty a cart by tilting it.
_Skirth_. A fen drain.
_Slape_. Slippery, as roads after frost.
_Slappy_ or _sloppy_. Muddy and moist.
_Slither_, _to_. To slide on ice.
_Slive_, _to_. To slip or creep slowly on. “The night slives on.”
_Slosh_. Aslant, as a path running slosh across a field.
_Sloven_. The stump of a tree.
_Smock-raffled_. Taken aback, puzzled.
_Smower_, _to_. To pour over. “Yon tree smowers over wi’ fruit.”
_Snitchy_. Bad tempered, irritable.
_Soodle_, _to_. To daudle.
_Soodly_. Idle.
_Sooth_. Soft, gentle, of whispers, winds, &c.
_Souse_, _to_. To soak in water, &c.
_Spank_. To strike with flat hand. “Spank the tiresome bairn.”
_Splats_. Leggings or gaiters.
_Spry_. Lively, full of spirit.
_Squarls_. Quarrels.
_Stang_. A pole. Only used in eel-stang, a long pole with iron prongs
at the end, thrust into the mud to catch eels; and in “riding the stang,”
in the old custom of “rantanning,” to serenade with beaten tins and
kettles the wife-beater, when a figure was carried disguised as the
offender, sitting astride of a long pole.
_Stilted_. Daubed with dirt (stockings, &c.)
_Struttle_. A runnel, small stream between stepping stones.
_Suthering_. Sighing, as the wind in the trees.
_Swads_. Bean pods.
_Swail_. Shade. “Left in the swail,” away from the sun.
_Swingle_. A flail.
_Teem_, _to_. To overflow or be full. “He teems wi’ jokes.” “It teems
wi’ rain.”
_Thruff_. Pronunciation of “through,” compare “enough,” Linc. enew.
_Tidy_. A pinafore. “Put on your tidy, my bairn.”
_Tray_. A hurdle.
_Trig_. Trim, neat, as trim as a pin.
_Tue_ or _tew_. To fret, chafe impatiently, tire oneself out.
_Undernean_. Underneath.
_Wakken_. Wide-awake, sharp, noticing everything.
_Wankling_. A weak child, also wreckling.
_Ware_, _to_. To spend. “Are you going to ware anything on me at the
fair?”
_Wath_. A ford. “Kirkstead Wath,” “Shearman’s Wath.”
_Werrit_, _to_. To worry or fidget, in needless anxiety.
_Wopper_. Anything unusually large. “That bairn of yourn is a wopper.”
_Yocks_. The two chains on which buckets are hung from the shoulder
board, when carrying water from the well.
_Yon_. Yonder. “Look at yon boy, what is he up to?”
_Yow_. Ewe, a female sheep.
_Yow-necked_. Of a horse with neck too thin.
_Yuck_, _to_. To jirk. “Yuck the reins to check the horse.”
APPENDIX I. VERNACULAR NAMES OF WILD PLANTS.
Adam’s Flannel Mullein
Alehoof Ground Ivy
Alexander’s foot Pellitory
All-heal Valeriana officinalis
“Very precious”—Spikenard. “The
Box of Ointment,” Mark xiv., 3–5,
worth “300 pence.”
Ambrose Wild sage
Arse-smart Water pepper
Ass-ear Comfrey
Ass’s foot Coltsfoot
Aaron’s board Spirea
Bairn-wort Daisy
Ball-weed Centaury
Ban-wort Violet
Base-rocket Burdock
Beard-tree Hazel
Bedlam Cowslip Oxlip
Beggar’s buttons Burdock
Beggar’s needle Shepherd’s needle
Bell-bloom Daffodil
Benewithe Woodbine
Biddy’s eyes Pansy
Bird’s eye Germander Speedwell
Blaver Corn blue-bottle
Bleed wort Wild red poppy
Bleeding heart Wallflower
Blood wort Blood-veined dock
Blow-ball Dandelion
Bobbin and Joan Cuckoo-pint
Bog violet Butter wort
Brain berry Blackberry
Bride wort Meadow sweet
Bulls and Cows Cuckoo-pint
Bunny mouth Snapdragon
Butter and eggs Daffodil
Calf’s snout Scarlet Pimpernel
Candlegrass Goose grass, cleavers
Carnadine Carnation
Catstail Horsetail
Catch weed Cleavers
Cheese rennet Yellow bedstraw
Choke weed Corn convolvulus
Ditto Dodder
Christmas rose Hellebore
Call me near Sweet William
Corn bind Corn convolvulus
Cow’s Langwort Mullein
Crow flower Crow’s foot / Wild Ranunculus
Crow’s toe Crow’s foot / Wild Ranunculus
Cuckoo’s meat Wood sorrel
Cuckoo spice Wood sorrel
Culver wort Columbine
Death’s herb Deadly nightshade
Dick-a-silver Periwinkle
Dog-fennel Corn chamomile
Dead men’s fingers Early purple orchis
Eggs and bacon Bird’s foot trefoil
Ears wort Mouse ear
Lug wort Mouse ear
Five fingers Oxlip
Flea dock Butter bur
Flybane Catch fly
Fuller’s thistle Teasel
Gander gorse Rag wort
Gnat flower Fly orchis
Goose tongue Sneeze wort
Gracy-day Daffodil
Hairiff Cleavers
Hare’s eye Wild Campion
Headache Corn poppy
Hell weed Corn convolvulus
Hen gorse Rest harrow
Holy Ghost’s root Angelica
Horse daisy Ox-eye-daisy
Horse thyme Wild thyme
Humblock Hemlock
(Humelock, 13th Century)
John that goes to bed at noon Pimpernel
Kettle case Purple orchis
Ketlock Cherlock
King’s finger Smaller purple orchis
Lad-love-lass Southern wood
Lady’s cushion Thrift
Lily royal Penny royal
Love in idleness Pansy
Louse wort Marsh red rattle
Lad’s love Southern wood
Maiden’s love Southern wood
Medwort Meadow sweet
Muckweed Goose foot
Maiden hair Quake grass
Nap at noon Purple goat’s beard
Navel wort Cotyledon umbelicus
Neck weed Hemp
Ox tongue Bug loss
Penny weed Yellow rattle
Pick-pocket Shepherd’s purse
Pincushion Sweet Scabious
Pixy stool Toad stool
Poor man’s pepper Stone crop
Poverty weed Purple cow-wheat
Pudding grass Penny royal
Red shanks Water pepper
Rattle penny Yellow rattle
Rust burn Rest harrow
Sallow Willow
Shepherd’s rod Teasel
Shoes and Stockings Lady’s slipper
Stike-pile Stork’s bill
Toad pipes Horsetail
Turk’s cap Monk’s hood
Wall pepper Sedum acre
Water grass Water cress
Withywind Convolvulus
Wood sour Wood sorrel
Yellow bottle Corn marygold
APPENDIX II. LIST OF FOSSILS
found at Woodhall Spa, or in the neighbourhood, compiled by Professor J.
F. BLAKE, given in the Government “Geological Survey Memoirs,” pp. 191,
192.
Ammonites Berryeri. Langton and Baumber.
Ammonites decipiens. Baumber.
Ammonites serratus. Woodhall, Langton, and Baumber.
Ammonites mutabilis. Horncastle.
Ammonites hector. Baumber.
Belemnites nitidus. Woodhall.
Cerithium crebrum. Horncastle.
Rostellaria mosensis. Langton and Horncastle.
Rissoa mosensis. Woodhall.
Dentalium Quenstedti. Horncastle.
Arca reticulata. Horncastle.
Arca rhomboidalis. Langton and Baumber.
Astarte Michaudiana. Baumber.
Astarte supracorallina. Horncastle.
Anatina minuta. Horncastle.
Anomia Dollfusii. Baumber.
Avicula ædilignensis. Woodhall and Langton.
Avicula Dorsetensis. Langton.
Cardium striatulum. Horncastle.
Corbula Deshayesia. Baumber and Horncastle.
Corbula fallax. Baumber.
Ceromya orbicularis. Baumber.
Cyprina cyrene-formis. Woodhall and Langton.
Homomya compressa. Baumber and Horncastle.
Lima ædilignensis. Woodhall and Baumber.
Nucula menkii. Langton, Baumber, and Horncastle.
Nucula obliquata. Langton.
Ostrœa deltoidea. Woodhall.
Pecten demissus. Langton.
Pecten Grenieri. Baumber and Horncastle.
Pecten arcuatus. Baumber.
Thracia depressa. Woodhall and Horncastle.
Lingula ovalis. Baumber.
Serpula tetragona. Langton.
Serpula intestinalis. Horncastle.
N.B.—The Langton here named is Langton St. Andrew, now synonymous with
Woodhall Spa, but referring specially to the ground west of the Stixwould
Road, though including Jordan’s Pond. All these fossils may be expected
throughout the immediate neighbourhood, in Kirkstead, &c., &c., as they
are all from the Kimeridge formation.
We have no list of fossils from the lower geological formations, which
are out of ordinary reach. Those here given are near the surface, or
exposed in ditches or pits, and may be found by anyone who has the eye to
discern them.
_INDEX_.
A.
Abbey, Bardney 167–170
„ Kirkstead 239–248
„ Stixwould 150–156
„ Tupholme 165–167
Abbot, of Bardney, “Mitred” 169
Accident at Woodhall Well 7, 8
„ Poem on, by J. Sharpe 8
Adelaide, Queen 14
Adelias de Cundi 189
Albini, Hugh de 229 and note
Albino Hares 65
All-Hallows’ Church, Ancient 156, 157
Ancient pistol 129
Andrew’s St., Church 14
Anelace, found in Kirkstead 107 and note
Angevine, Robert, of Langton 197
Antiquities of Lincoln 117–125
,, found in Witham 107–110
Architect, Stephen Lewin 14 and note
Ashby Puerorum 253, 254
,, ,, Roman tomb at 254
Ayscough, H., married E. Dymoke 214
B.
Bab, i.e., dredge 100
Badger, beneficial to fox 53
Bad roads to Woodhall 11
Bag Enderby 256, 257
Bage, or sod, old word 23 and note
Bain, Celtic river name 228 and note
Banks, Sir Joseph 189
Bardney 167–171
„ Visited by Henry IV. 194
Barkworth family 139, 140
Bath, discovery of water 5
,, House, the first, 1834 9
Bede-houses at Langton 200
Bell, “Pan-cake” 192
Beriwick, of Langton 197
Bernack, Sir William 230, 234
Birch, clogs 34 and note
Bird-Hag Wood 36, 37
Birds of Fenland, former 48, 49
,, of neighbourhood 34, 47, 51
Bittern 34
Black death 193, 206
Black game 34, 35
Bog’s nook 34
Bolingbroke, New, “city” 6
,, Old 5 and note
Bolles family 145
Bolsover, water discovered 5
Botany of neighbourhood 28–33
Bough-houses 180 and note
Boulders, glacier-borne 88, 91, 201
Brandon, Charles, Duke of Suffolk 234, 250
Brass of Cromwell, Lord 237, 238
,, of Dymoke 190
Brick-work, beautiful 230, 231
Brick tank at Woodhall Spa 9
Buckland, in Woodhall 127
Bucknall 161–165
,, List of Rectors 164, 165
Bull baiting 178 and note
Bull Ring, Horncastle 178
Buzzard 43
C.
Callis, merchant of staple of 225
Canoes, ancient 114–116
Carlisle, Bishop of 189
Carlsbad, water discovered 5
Caroline, Queen’s trial, anecdote 185
Cart, dragged by man 21 miles 185
Carving, S. Andrew’s Church 14 and note
Castle walls, Horncastle 187, 188
Caswell, Mr. Clement J. 185–187, 256
Cathedral, Lincoln 27
Cato-street Conspiracy 159–161
Celts, found 105 and note, 106
Champion Cups 209
Champion, Dymoke 14 and note
Charles I., Dymoke bequest to 214
Charles II., anecdote of 172, 173
Chesney, William, de 185
Chrismatory, mediæval 199
Churches:
Andrew’s, St., Woodhall Spa 14
St. Peter’s ,, 16
Ashby Puerorum 253, 254
Bucknall 162–164
Coningsby 222–226
Edlington 176
Enderby, Bag 256, 257
Gautby 172
Haltham 215–217
Horncastle 189, 190
Kirkstead 244–249
Langton 198–200
Martin 203, 204
Minting 174, 175
Roughton 205, 206
Scrivelsby 213, 214
Somersby 255
Tattershall 234–238
Thimbleby 177
Thornton 201, 202
Wispington 175, 176
Woodhall, Old 200, 201
Church, robber’s sanctuary 193
Clarkson, boring for coal 6
Clinton, Sir H. 189
,, Lord 132, 136, 143, 144, 189, 234, 250
Coal-pit Wood 8
“Cobbler, Captain” 170
Coffins, leaden 110
Coins, Roman 112
Collar, brazen, for maniac 159
Coney-garth 169, 170
Conging-street, Horncastle 179
Coningsby 218–227
Coningsby family 219
Coppledyke, knightly family of 257, 258
Corner, Hangman’s, Horncastle 189
Cottage Hospital, Woodhall 17
Creviquer, Alexander 153
Cromwell, Lord Treasurer 136, 137
,, Oliver, in Horncastle 194 and note
,, Ralph de 208, 230, 234
Cundi, Adelias de 189
Cures at Woodhall, early 9
Curfew 226
D.
Daubeney, Sir Giles 221
Dar-wood 127
Deane, tablet of, at Horsington 158
D’Eyncourt, Baron 230, 234
Diocese, Lincoln, Humber to Thames 125
Dispenser, Robert de 202, 208
Doctors, first resident at Woodhall 9
Dog-kennel yard, Horncastle 187
Donatives, abolished 13 and note
Drainage of Fens 101
Drayton’s “Polyolbion” 28, 48
Driby, Robert de 230, 234
Drogo de Bruere 220
Dyer, John, Poet 226
Dymoke, Champion, at Coronation 210–213
Dymoke, bequest to Charles I. 214
,, Edward, of Thornton 203
,, Sir Robert, good marriage 214
E.
Eagle, seen at Woodhall 42
Eagle Hotel, built 15
Editha, Queen 189
Edlington 176
Elizabeth, Queen, held Horncastle Manor 189
Ellison, R., Poem “Kirkstead” 36 and note, 250 and note
Elmhirst, Col. Richard 150
Enderby, Bag 256, 257
Escald, Gerbald de 189
Ethelred, King’s burial-place 169
Eudo, Norman Knight 229
Eusden, Laurence, Poet Laureate 226
Ezmondeys, Galfred de 153
Enderby, Albin de 256
F.
Fairs at Horncastle 179 and note
,, tricks at 181–183
Ferruginous water at Woodhall 10
Fight at Winceby 190
Fishes, list of local 72
Fish, Recipe for Cooking, by Francatelli 74 and note
Fitzendo, Hugh 229, 239
Flintgan 35 and note
Floralia, Festival of 188
Flower as bait for fish 74
“Forest” of Woodhall, Pakinson’s 6, 7
Fortescue, Hugh, Baron 234
Fox, cunning of 58, 59
Franklin, Sir John, at Horncastle 194
Fynes family 136
„ Henry, of Christed 250, 251, 70
,, Henry, of Christed 250, 251
G.
Gallows at Thimbleby 134, 240
“Gap,” the Lincoln 101, 102
Gaunt, Gilbert de 169, 170
,, John of 120
,, John, at Roughton 207
„ Walter de 169
Gautby 172–174
Geological Notes 84–104
Geology of South Scarle boring 84 and note
,, of Woodhall boring 10, 85, and note
Gerard de Rhodes 189
Gerbald de Escald 189
Gibson, Rev. Thomas 191, 192
Glacier-borne boulders 87–91
Godiva, Lady 162
Granges, Moated 127, 129, 134, 135
Green Lady, legend of 145, 146
Gregory, Pope, curse of 196
Grey, John de 229
Gridiron, Horncastle Arms 192
Grosstête, Bishop, Epigram on 171 and note
H.
Hagworthingham Church 258, 259
Hall-garth, Thimbleby 177
Hall, Halstead 146–148
Hall, High 128, 129
Hall, Poolham 138, 146
Hall, Roughton 207
Hall, White 135–138, 205
Hall, Wood 126, 127
Haltham 215–217
Hangman’s Corner 189
Hardy-gang Wood 171
Hare, cunning of 66, 88
“Harr” 27 and note
Harrier, Hen 43
Harrington Church 257, 258
Hawks, farmer’s and sportsman’s friends 41, 42
Henry IV., birthplace of 194
,, visits Bardney 194
,, ,, Horncastle 194
Heron and Kite, fight between 42 and note
High-Hall 128, 129
Hoe Hill 253
Holbeck 253
Holy Thistle 128, 161
Holy Well 254, 256
Home for Gentlewomen 18
Hopton, Sir Ingram 190, 194
Horncastle 177, 195
,, Fairs 179 and note
,, Cheating at 181, 183
,, Murder at 181
,, Plague in 193
,, Poet “Laureate” 184 and note
,, Railway opened 12
Horse-taker Wood 171
Horsington 156–161
Hotchkin, Mr. Thomas 9
,, T. J. Stafford, Esq. 15, 16
Hotel, Royal 15
,, Victoria, built 9
,, ,, enlarged 15
Hussey family 142 and note
Hybrid, hare and rabbit 63, 64
I.
Incident at Kirkstead Hall 21, 22
Indulgence, Letters of 149 and note
Ings, field-name 156, 226
Insect life 33, 82, 83
J.
Jack Musters 57
Jenny, Sir Edmund 254
Jews at Lincoln 122–124
Julian’s Bower 188
Jurors, Non 137 and note, 164
K.
Karilepho, Willm. de 196
Kestrel, useful to man 44
“Kid,” i.e., faggot 133
Kimeridge Clay 92, 93
Kingfisher 46, 47
Kirkstead Abbey 239, 240
,, Abbot 241, 243
,, Church 244–249
,, Poem by R. Ellison, Esq. 36 and note
L.
Langton Church 198–200
,, Hill, extensive view 195
,, Moated House 196
,, Owners of land 196, 197
Langworth 227
Lawrence, St., Chapel, Horncastle 192
Lincoln, Antiquities 117–125
,, Diocese, from Humber to Thames 125
„ Minster 121, 122
,, Spires demolished 122
,, Railway opened 12
Lindsey, Lord of 169
“Literæ Laureatæ” 184 and note
Lizard, shedding tail 72
M.
Marmyon, Baron 230, 234, 240
,, Roger de 170
Martin Church 203, 204
Mastiffs of Kirkstead Abbot 240
Maypole Hill 188
Maze 188
Meeres family 132, 134
Merlin hawk 43
Meschines, Ranulph de 174
Mill, valuable possession 140
Minting Church 174, 175
,, Weavers 175
Moat, valuable possession 136
Moon, race against the 185
Murder at Well-syke Wood 20
,, White Hall Wood 18
,, ,, Queen’s Head, Horncastle 181
N.
Names, old 26
Nevill family 165
Nightingale 49–51
Nightjar 45, 46
Non-jurors 137 and note, 164
Norreys Fynes, monument 137
O.
Osmunda regalis 30
Ostler, Mr. W., at Woodhall 6
,, Plantations, bird resort 35
,, ,, varied sport in 62 and note
Oswald, King’s miraculous hand 169
„ ,, tombstone 167
Osyth, St 236 and note
Otter 54, 55
Overseer, female 207
Owls, anecdote of 45 and note
,, three kinds 44
„ very useful 44 and note
P.
Parishes in Woodhall district 13
Parkinson, John, and Spa Well 5
,, three projects of 5
Partridge, brown and red-leg mixing eggs 39
,, red-leg and keeper, anecdote 38
,, sitting close, anecdote 40
,, when sitting, has no scent 39, 40, and note
Pheasant, cream-coloured 37
„ Kalege 37
,, White 37
Pigeons, wild, three kinds 41
Pike, large 75, 78
Pinso, Norman Knight 229
Pistol, history of 129 and note
Plague 193, 206
Plantation, Ostler’s 6, 35, 62 and note
Plants, lists of 30–32
Poachers 19
Poem, “Kirkstead,” by R. Ellison, Esq. 36 and note
Pry-close, origin of name 200