"They are merely the evening bells of Mansfield," said my companion.
"Of Mansfield!" Here was another of the legendary names of this storied
neighborhood, that called up early and pleasant associations. The
famous old ballad of the King and the Miller of Mansfield came at once
to mind, and the chime of the bells put me again in good humor.
A little farther on, and we were again on the traces of Robin Hood.
Here was Fountain Dale, where he had his encounter with that stalwart
shaveling Friar Tuck, who was a kind of saint militant, alternately
wearing the casque and the cowl:
"The curtal fryar kept Fountain dale
Seven long years and more,
There was neither lord, knight or earl
Could make him yield before."
The moat is still shown which is said to have surrounded the stronghold
of this jovial and fighting friar; and the place where he and Robin
Hood had their sturdy trial of strength and prowess, in the memorable
conflict which lasted
"From ten o'clock that very day
Until four in the afternoon,"
and ended in the treaty of fellowship. As to the hardy feats, both of
sword and trencher, performed by this "curtal fryar," behold are they
not recorded at length in the ancient ballads, and in the magic pages
of Ivanhoe?
The evening was fast coming on, and the twilight thickening, as we rode
through these haunts famous in outlaw story. A melancholy seemed to
gather over the landscape as we proceeded, for our course lay by
shadowy woods, and across naked heaths, and along lonely roads, marked
by some of those sinister names by which the country people in England
are apt to make dreary places still more dreary. The horrors of
"Thieves' Wood," and the "Murderers' Stone," and "the Hag Nook," had
all to be encountered in the gathering gloom of evening, and threatened
to beset our path with more than mortal peril. Happily, however, we
passed these ominous places unharmed, and arrived in safety at the
portal of Newstead Abbey, highly satisfied with our green-wood foray.