delight in frustrating the efforts of a witch, whether paid for
their services or not; whilst others used their knowledge merely as
a means of livelihood, and drained their patients of every copper
or possession of value. I knew of a family that, having consulted a
person of this latter class, parted with all their savings, then
with their convertible possessions, and, lastly, with their stock of
winter provender (garden produce, potatoes, and the like), until left
in a perfectly destitute condition, dependent on the parish for actual
necessaries. A conjurer, having listened to the complaint brought
him, will, as a rule, ask his client to what extent he would wish the
punishment to fail. Very often he would surprise his visitor by saying
at the start that he knew the reason why they came to consult him,
and would actually cite the case as it stood. If desired, he would
inform his questioner who their ill-wisher was, generally by showing
them the face of their enemy reflected in a crystal, or on the surface
of a bucket of water. Then would follow the prescription—and it was
here that he as a rule gave way to a love of effect, and suggested
material cures for a psychic malady. I am inclined to think that this
materialistic display was the chief reason for his being held up
to ridicule by the unbeliever or sceptic; had he contented himself
with less rude emblematical display he would have at least had more
sympathy from the general public. Some of the conditions laid down as
being essential to the withdrawal of the spell were, to say the least,
unnecessarily disgusting. Many I know of, which, although interesting
enough to the searcher, would certainly not bear putting into bald
print. Most were ingenious, and possessed colourable excuse for their
suggestion. I will give a few examples to illustrate this. A simple
remedy was suggested to a dairyman who complained of sickness in his
pig-yard. He was advised to place a birch-broom (“Bezom,” in Dorset)
across the doorway of the dairyhouse, it being said that any innocent
person could step over it, a witch never. This was tried, with the
result that in the morning a great outcry was heard, and a neighbour
was discovered standing outside the door protesting that “something
hurt her,” and she felt unable to cross the threshold. In a very
similar case where this was tried and failed to produce any result,
a further visit to the conjurer suggested sleeping with a prayer-book
under the pillow and fixing a horseshoe on the door—a shoe that had
of itself fallen from the left hind foot of a horse—and in both these
cases the nuisance was put a stop to almost immediately.
In a case where the horses were dying from some obscure complaint, the
victim was told to cut out the heart of the next animal that died and
boil it in water containing sage, peppermint, and onions; when cold, it
was to be stuck full of new pins on the one side, and on the other with
“maiden” thorns—_i.e._, thorns of the present year’s growth—picked by a
maiden—woman or girl—and inserted by her. This done, it was to be hung
up on a nail in the chimney of a neighbour—the one accused of being the
witch. Another charm of a simple character was for the bewitched person
to take a dish of water and carry it over three bridges at midnight.
Yet another was to take a bottle, place in it some sprigs of hyssop,
fill it up with a certain liquid, insert some new pins in the cork, and
bury it in a manure heap. In the majority of instances that have come
under my notice, the charm has been emblematical of bodily ill to the
witch; either pins or something similar capable of drawing blood, or
else some perishable material such as the horse’s heart, which would
naturally decay slowly, or a waxen effigy which, placed near a fire,
would gradually melt; and I have been given to understand that the
slower the melting, the more protracted would be the witch’s suffering
and death.
I believe it very rarely happens that the same person is “overlooked”
more than once; at any rate, all those who have spoken to me on
the subject have told me that since they suffered in this way they
have taken most elaborate precautions to avoid a repetition of the
occurrence. I know one man who utterly refuses to meet or pass a woman
who is a stranger to him should she be wearing anything of a red
colour; in fact, he would go a mile or more out of his way to avoid
her, or enter a field and hide until she had passed on her way. Another
man of my acquaintance, one who confided to me several distinguishing
marks by which a witch might be recognised, advised me never to go near
a cat or hare if they exhibited any of these signs. A woman, well-to-do
in her walk in life, has warned me solemnly never to pick yellow
ragwort, lest I should thereby render myself liable to be bewitched.
The seriousness with which these and many others have tendered advice
is sufficient proof—to me—of the genuineness of their beliefs.
Let me now briefly cite a few particulars of cases that have either
come under my own observation, or have been related to me by people in
whose veracity I have the strongest confidence. A question which may be
asked is, do I myself believe that these things happened and are still
happening? It is not easy to find an answer. Because I cannot explain
any certain occurrence it in no way proves that it is false; moreover,
I have personally met with experiences of a strange, subtle character
which, although I may not be able to explain satisfactorily to others,
are irrefutable as far as I myself am concerned. Probably many, if not
most, of my readers have likewise had “experiences,” but the scientific
scepticism of the age prevents one from recording them only to be
sneered at by the unbelieving.
One of the strangest cases that has ever come to my notice was that
of a young baker. It appeared that in some way or other he had given
offence to a reputed witch who lived in the same village, and who
openly vowed she would “pay him out.” Nothing untoward happened,
however, until after his marriage a few months later, when, going into
the stable one morning to feed his horse, he found the animal covered
with sweat; it was trembling, and refused all food. The next morning
the same thing occurred; so thinking to frustrate some practical joker,
he bought a strong, expensive lock for the door, and prided himself on
the fact that he had now outwitted the culprit. But the next morning
the horse had disappeared, and only after considerable search was it
at length discovered shut up in the pound. The stable was locked, and
there was no evidence to show that the lock had been tampered with.
The only information he gained was from a neighbour, who stated that
he heard a horse galloping down the road about midnight, and that,
looking out of his window, he had seen—not a horse, but a hare. For
some weeks afterwards all went on quietly; then his wife was taken ill.
The doctor who attended her could make nothing of her case, and at
length, taking the advice of a friend, he went to consult a conjurer.
As he arrived at the conjurer’s door, the latter came out, and, without
any preamble, asked him how his wife was. Now the men lived twenty
miles apart, yet the conjurer was conversant with every particular
of the case, including details which the baker declared he had never
mentioned to a soul. To him the conjurer handed a charm, telling him
to preserve entire secrecy on the matter, and to place it with his
own hands under his wife’s pillow. The result was an almost immediate
improvement in the wife’s condition; but in a day or two information
reached him of the illness of the supposed witch. As his wife improved,
so the other woman became worse. Then, one evening when she had so
far recovered as to come downstairs, a neighbour ran into his house
declaring that he had just come from the direction of widow G.’s,
that her house was entirely luminous, the walls semi-transparent, and
the whole neighbourhood reeked strongly of sulphur. Nor was this all,
for as he breathlessly told his tale, another man entered, confirming
what the first had said, and adding that a sound similar to that made
by a hare in a trap proceeded from the widow’s cottage. Joined by
others, including the village policeman, they hastened to the spot. As
they neared it, the baker, too, smelled the same odour, and saw the
luminous effect. Arrived at the gate they stood spellbound, for on the
doorstep was a figure. To me he described it as a “_thing_, coal-black,
with fire darting from its eyes and mouth; cloven hoofs, and a forked
tail”—in short, a fair description of a popular conception of the
devil! For some minutes they all stood still, too much frightened
to advance or retreat. Then, suddenly, an eerie cry rang out, and
the whole house was plunged in darkness. When at last they pulled
themselves together and entered in a body, they met coming down the
stairs from the bedroom a woman who had acted as nurse to the stricken
widow. She stated that she had been sitting by the bedside when she was
suddenly overcome by a strong sulphurous smell, which had rendered her
unconscious. Coming to herself at last, she glanced at the bed, to find
it empty. Together they all ascended the stairs; the fumes still hung
about, but the bed had no occupant; they searched the house through and
through, but could find no trace of the owner.
I may mention here that it is by no means an uncommon belief that a
witch has sold herself to the devil, and that “he” will very often come
to fetch his “disciple” at the moment of her death.
The case of Charles —— was not without interest, seeing that the
narrator was a man of considerable experience and intelligence, an
engineer between thirty and forty, in a good situation. As a boy he
had lived in a “haunted” house, in which strange and unaccountable
noises were continually heard, sufficiently loud to awaken the whole
household. He shared a small room with a younger brother, and more
than once they were awakened in the night by the sound of a sheep
bleating close to them, apparently by the bedside. On one occasion he
and his brother, accompanied by their dog, started from home before
daybreak to drive a flock of sheep to a farm some ten miles away. It
was winter, the days were short; and having duly delivered the sheep,
they started on their return walk as dusk began to gather. Their way
led past a large pond, and as they neared this spot they both stopped
suddenly, hearing the loud bleat of a sheep close to them. Peering
ahead, they soon perceived the form of a sheep just in front of them.
The dog bounded forward, but returned immediately with his tail
between his legs, and howling dolefully he ran behind his master as
if for protection. The dog was no coward naturally, and the lads were
accordingly somewhat alarmed. They stood still, debating what to do,
while the sheep drew gradually nearer, uttering “ba-a” after “ba-a,”
until it stopped within a few feet, when they distinctly saw that the
animal had no head. Petrified, they stood a moment, clutching hold of
one another, till the elder, recovering his presence of mind, raised
his stick to strike the animal; but his arm was powerless—he could
only raise the stick a few inches. Meanwhile, the animal advanced, and
rubbed its neck against their legs. Suddenly it turned, and dashing to
the edge of the pond, sprang in and disappeared from view. The lads
remained gazing after it, spellbound, and then took to their heels and
ran home.
I am inclined to the belief that originally the term “hagrod” was
chiefly applied to the case of horses that had become mysteriously
affected. An old carter once told me that he had the charge of some
horses at a certain farm, and unconsciously chanced to give offence to
a reputed witch who lived near by. Her revenge took the form of petty
annoyances. It was no uncommon thing for him to enter his stables in
the morning to find his horses bathed in sweat, and panting as though
they had been ridden far and fast—this, too, when the door was found
locked as he had left it on the previous night. On such occasions the
horses were fit for no work that day, and he had considerable trouble
to get work out of them. Sometimes he would find them with their tails
and manes tightly plaited up with straw. Such occurrences used to be
comparatively common. One day I chanced to mention to his master what
the man had told me; his master smiled, and said what he thought might
be an explanation, but in no way denied the man’s story. Then he told
me a case that had come under his own observation. In the stable was
a valuable young horse, and one morning it was found with one hind
leg perfectly stiff, so stiff that it could not put it to the ground.
Three men tried their utmost to bend it, but without avail. At last
they led the animal out of the stable, limping on three legs, and when
outside it gradually got back the use of the limb. This happened many
times, and at length the carter declared it was “hagrod,” that an old
woman living near by had “overlooked it,” that every time she passed
the stable—a thing which she did occasionally to get butter from the
dairy—the horse was invariably stricken. Out of curiosity the farmer
took note of what the carter said, and, to his astonishment, he found
that the man was right—that is to say, in so far as that the horse’s
stiffness coincided with the time of this woman’s approach. She left
the neighbourhood a short time afterwards, and from that date there was
no recurrence of the horse’s strange attacks.
In a case with the details of which I am very familiar, and the truth
of which I can vouch for, the ill-wish found vent firstly on animals,
the property of the “overlooked.” What actually led up to the matter
I never quite knew, possibly the narrator had offended her neighbour;
anyhow, the facts are indisputable. The first effects showed themselves
in the pigs refusing all food, and then dying one after the other,
in what looked like some form of fit. A veterinary surgeon who was
called in declared his inability to give a name to the disease, and
a subsequent post-mortem examination threw no light on the matter.
Then, one by one, all the fowls sickened and died; and, lastly, the
woman’s daughter became seriously ill, but of what disease the doctor
was unable to say. It was at this juncture that her mother, who had
hitherto scoffed at the notion, took it into her head that the girl was
bewitched, with the result that she paid a visit to a “wise-woman”
(with whom I was also well acquainted), and sought her advice. The
“conjuress” listened to her story, told her the name of the person who
was ill-wishing her, and gave her a charm, with instructions to sew it,
unknown to her daughter, inside her corsets, in such a position that
she should not suspect its presence. These directions were faithfully
carried out, with the result that in a short time her daughter regained
her normal health. Meanwhile, a neighbour (the supposed ill-wisher)
sickened, growing worse as the girl improved, and finally left the
neighbourhood; her subsequent history was never known. The charm,
which, by the way, the mother was directed to burn directly her
daughter was out of danger, was preserved for some time. It consisted
of a small lump of wax, roughly modelled into the form of a woman, the
face bearing a distinct likeness to the accused witch!
I will conclude with one more instance, which, although free from
complications, is interesting as having happened quite recently. The
supposed witch lived within a few hundred yards of the house that I
was then inhabiting; the bewitched was a man who was for some years my
gardener. The road from his cottage to the nearest village led past
the house occupied by the witch, and, from some quite inexplicable
cause, he was never able to pass her house in the ordinary way. When he
attempted to do so he fell down; his only alternatives being either to
turn round and walk backwards, or else to crawl by on hands and knees.
Naturally, all the neighbours were aware of the fact, but they had
grown so familiar with it that they ceased to comment on it. About two
years ago the woman died, and afterwards, the spell presumably expiring
with her, the old man was able to pursue his way in normal fashion. In
front of the witch’s house stood a fine apple tree, and one day during
the autumn following her death, the old man asked me, with a twinkle
in his eye, whether I had noticed what a fine crop of apples this tree
bore. “I’ve a-knowed thic tree,” he said, “ever since he wer’ planted;
but he haven’t never had n’ar a opple on to en avore. Now, sir, can’ee
tell I how ’tis he do bear s’well t’year?” Knowing what was expected of
me, I said: “Let me see, John, is it not about a year ago since Mrs.
X—, who lived there, died?” His retort, though scarcely a reply to my
query, was nevertheless suggestive of the fact that I had answered his
former question to me. He deliberately winked, then said, “Ther, sir,
now you’ve a-said it,” and strode off to attend to his work.
INDEX
Abbey, Bindon, 189, 190
—— Cerne, 8, 9, 96
—— Church of Sherborne, 79
—— Foundations of Shaftesbury, 248
Abbotsbury Abbey, 102, 104
—— taken, 10
Adeliza, daughter of Baldwin de Brioniis, 131
Agger-Dun, Round Barrows at, 22, 25
Agglestone Rock, 198
Agricola, 29
Albert, Prince, 152
Alfred, 119, 146, 200, 241, 242
—— Boyhood of King, 76
—— Victories of, 7
Allington, 233
All Saints’, Dorchester, 147, 153
Almshouse, Sherborne, 81
Amphitheatre at Dorchester, 42
Anketil, Colonel, 215
Anne, “Good” Queen, 183
Archer, Abbot Walter, 95
Armada, Fight off Portland, 182
—— Scare, 205
—— Vessels sent from Weymouth against the, 163
Arne, Village of, 198
Aryans, Invading, 3
Asser, 242
Athelhampton, 257
—— Hall, 262
Athelstan, 94, 98, 102-104, 111, 146, 158, 243
Athelwold, Assassination of, 201
Bacon, Francis (Lord Verulam), 176
Badbury, 5, 18, 34, 35, 36, 145
—— Roman occupation of, 31
Ballard Head, 197
Band, Piddletown Church, 260
Bankes, Sir John and Lady, 206-209, 212, 213, 215, 217, 218
Bardolfeston, 263
Bankes, Sir Ralph, 217-219
Barnes, William, Dorset Poet, 18, 153, 156, 247, 273, 280, 294
Barrows, Long, 19, 20
—— Round, 3-19, 20, 21
Beach, Thomas, 113
Beaminster, 232
Beaufort Family, 124
Bedford Family, 270
—— John, Duke of, 228
Bentham, Jeremy, 143
Bere Regis, 9, 287, 290
—— Long Barrow near, 20
—— Round Barrow at, 22
—— Church, Timber Roof, 60
Bindon Abbey, 189, 190
Bindun Camp, 30
Bingham, Colonel, Governor of Poole, 214-216, 218, 223
Bingham’s Melcombe, Headquarters of Parliamentary Forces at, 165
—— —— Relics of the Armada at, 164
Blackmore Vale, 2, 250, 282, 286
Blandford, 209
—— Round Barrows near, 22
Bloody Assize, 15
Bloxworth Church, Hour-glass in, 56
—— House, 270
Bond, Captain, 209
Borough Dome-book of Bridport, 236
—— Records of Bridport, 234
Bow and Arrow (or Rufus) Castle, 180
Bowles, William Lisle, 277
Bradley, John, last Abbot of Milton, 96
Bradpole, 233
Branwalader, St., 102
“Bretagne, Damsel of,” 203
Bridport, 13, 15, 232, 243, 289
“Bridport Dagger,” 234
British Camps, 30
British Villages, Remains of, 20
Broadley, A. M., 113
—— Library of, 239
Broadwinsor, 14
Bronze Age, 19, 26
—— Cremation in the, 22
—— Pottery, 24
Brownsea, 225
Buckman, Professor, 39
Bulbarrow, Round Barrows at, 22
Burlestone Church, Chancel of, 263
Burney, Miss Fanny (Mme. d’Arblay), 150
Butler, Colonel, Governor of Wareham, 214, 215
Caen, Roger of, Bishop of Sarum and Abbot of Sherborne, 79
Came, 155, 281
—— Church, Recumbent Figures in, 59
—— Down, 24
Canford, 9
Cast-lead Font, St. Mary’s, Wareham, 55
Castle, Bow and Arrow (or Rufus), 180
—— Corfe, 10, 193, 195
—— Sherborne Old, 10, 90, 92
—— Royal visitors at Lulworth, 190
—— Pennsylvania, 180
Catherine of Alexandria, Chapels dedicated to St., 61, 103, 104, 108
Celtic Earthworks, 4
Celts, Civilisation of, 4
Centwine, 6
Cenwealh, first Christian King of West Saxons, 5
Cerne Abbas, 287
—— Round Barrows at, 22
—— Abbey, 8, 9, 96
—— Abbot of, 237
Characteristics of Shaftesbury, 252
Charborough, 288
Chard, Abbot, 133, 134, 139
Charles I., 92, 207, 267
—— II., 169, 224, 239, 245;
at Lulworth Castle, 190;
Defeat of, 11;
Flight of, 12
Charlotte, Queen, at Lulworth Castle, 190
Charminster, 264
—— Canopied Tombs at, 59
Chesil Beach, 2, 4, 165
Chesilborne, 107
Chideock, 271
—— Chapel, Knight in plate armour in, 59
China-clay, Important deposit of, 198
Christ Church, Dorchester, 153
Christmas Pie Legend, Corfe Castle, 219
Churches of Bridport, 234
—— of Shaftesbury, 246
Church, Piddletown, 258
—— St. Ealdhelm’s, 79
—— St. James’, Milton, 115
—— Spires—
Iwerne Minster, 46
Trent, 46, 54
Winterborne Steepleton, 46, 53
—— Towers—
Beaminster, 53
Bradford Abbas, 53
Cerne, 53
Charminster, 53
Dorchester, St. Peter’s, 53
Fordington St. George, 53
Marnhull, 53
Milton Abbey, 53
Piddletrenthide, 53
Steepleton, 53
Trent, 54
Civil War, 10, 165, 207
Civil War Days at Bridport, 238
Civil War, Sharp fight in Poole during, 223
—— —— Sherborne Castle besieged during, 92
Clandon Barrow, 24
Clavinio (or Jordan Hill), 35, 40
“Clubmen,” 10
Cnut, 8, 244
Coal Money, Kimmeridge, 191
Coke, Lord Chief Justice, 206
Company of Marblers, 195
Conig’s Castle, 30
Conjurer or Witch-Doctor, 294
Cooper, Sir Anthony Ashley, 213
Corfe, 9
—— Castle, 165, 187, 193, 195, 200-21, 224;
Ruins of, 50
—— Church, 211-213
Corton Chapel, Stone Altar at, 56
Court Leet House, Piddletown, 261
Cranborne, 9
—— Long Barrow near, 20
Credence in Witchcraft, 293
Creech, Ancient Manor of, 189
Cromwell, 92
—— at Portland, 183
—— Letter from, 11
—— Colonel, 214, 215
Cross-legged Effigies in—
Bridport, 57
Dorchester, St. Peter’s, 58, 59
Frampton, 58
Horton, 57
Mappowder, 58
Piddletown, 57
Stock Gaylard, 57
Trent, 57, 58
Wareham, 57
Wimborne Minster, 57
—— St. Giles, 57
Crowe, William, 276
Culliford Tree, 24
Cunnington, Edward, 40
Curious Inscription, St. Mary’s, Melcombe Regis, 174
Cuthberga, Sister of Ine, 117, 118
Cwenberga, St., 118
Cynewearde (Kynewardus), 94
Damer, Anne Seymour, 110
“Damsel of Bretagne,” 203
Danes, Destruction of Shaftesbury by, 243
Danes in Wessex, 6, 7
Decorated Architecture—
Dorchester, St. Peter’s, 51
Gussage, St. Michael’s, 51
Milton Abbey Church, 51
Tarrant Rushton, 51
Wimborne Minster, 51
Wooton Glanville, 51
Denzil, Lord Holles, Monument in St. Peter’s, Dorchester, of, 59
Destruction of Shaftesbury by Danes, 243
Deverel Barrow, 24
Dialect of Dorset, 17
Digby, John, first Earl of Bristol, 78
Dissolution of Monasteries, 10, 44, 245
Dodington, Bubb, first Lord Melcombe, 173, 176, 275
_Domesday Survey_, 233
Dorchester, 9, 34, 145-56, 170, 208, 213, 233, 243, 281, 283, 284, 290
—— Amphitheatre at, 42
—— Beaker at, 23
—— Discovery of MSS. in Auction Room at, 15
—— Execution of Catholic Priest at, 272
—— Persons presented at, 16
—— Round Barrows near, 22
—— Walls demolished, 8
Dorset County Museum, 154
—— —— —— Specimens in, 23-25 39, 40, 43
—— Superstitions, 292
Duke of Monmouth’s Rebellion, 14
Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, 94, 159
Durlston Bay, 194;
Head, 193
Durnovaria, Station at, 35, 36
Durotriges, 4-6, 29, 31, 37
Durweston Church, Carving in, 60
Eadward, Murder of, 7
—— the Unconquered, 118
Ealdgyth, or Elgefu, 241
Ealdhelm, St., Abbot of Malmesbury, 7;
first Bishop of Western Wessex, 75-87
Ealdhelm’s Head, St., 192, 193
_Ealdhelm, Life of St._, Wildman’s, 5
Ealhstan, Bishop, 77
Earl of Richmond, 9
Early English Architecture—
Corfe Mullen, 51
Cranborne, 51
Knighton, 51
Portesham, 51
Wimborne Minster, 51
Worth, 51
Eastbury, 275
East Lulworth, 278
East Stower, 276
Ecgberht, King, 77
Edgar, King, 94, 200, 201
Edward I., 245
Edward II., 254
—— III., 9
—— IV. at Tewkesbury, 9
—— VI., 87
—— the Confessor, 146, 159, 181, 233, 243
—— the Martyr, 201, 202, 207, 240, 249
Egdon Heath, 2, 290, 294
Eggardun, 30, 34
Elfrida, or Ælfthryth, Queen, 7, 200-202
Elizabeth, Queen, 91, 170, 205, 271
Emma, Queen, 159
Encombe, Glen of, 288
Erle, Sir Walter, 208, 210-212
Æthelbald, King, 76, 77
Æthelberht, King, 76, 77
Æthelgede, or Æthelgeofu, 241
Æthelhelm, Duke, 181
Æthelred I., 117
—— II., 7, 158
Æthelwold, the Ætheling, 117, 118
Æthelwulf, King, 77
Etricke of Holt, Anthony, 15, 225
—— Anthony, Sarcophagus of, 127
Evans, Miss, 143
Farnham, Stone over Altar in, 59
Fielding, Henry, 275, 276
FitzHerbert, Mrs., at Lulworth Castle, 190
Flowers, or Florus, Bury Camp, 30
Font, Cast-lead, at St. Mary’s, Wareham, 55
Fonts, Saxon, at Toller Fratrum, 48;
Martinstown, 48
Ford Abbey, 131
—— —— Chapel, 132
—— —— Seal, 140
—— —— Tapestries of, 144
—— —— The Cloister, 134
—— —— The Dissolution of, 139
—— —— The Guest Chamber, 137
—— —— “The Monks’ Walk,” 133
—— —— The Surrender of, 138
Fordington, 151
—— Church, St. George’s, 154
—— Field, 25
Frampton, Stone Pulpit at, 56
Fraunceis, John, 143
Fuller, Thomas, 277
Funeral, Portland Island, 186
Garrison at Wareham, 9
Gasquet, Abbot, 230
Gaunt, John of, 124
Gay, John, 150
Geology of Dorset, 1
George III., 157, 170, 271, 288
—— —— at Lulworth Castle, 190
Gillingham, 9, 281, 284
—— Manor of, 252, 253
Gipsies, Headstone of Peter Standley, King of the, 261
Glen of Encombe, 288
Godwin, Earl, 181
Godlingstone, Manor of, 196
Goidelic Celts, 3, 19
Grammar School, Milton, 113
—— —— Shaftesbury, 255
Gravestone of Benjamin Jesty, 192
Great Tyneham, Ancient Manor House at, 189
Guest, Lady Theodora, 252
Gussage Down, 36
—— Long Barrow near, 20
Gwyn, Francis, 143
—— John Francis, 143
Hambledon, Celtic Camp of, 10
—— Roman Occupation of, 31
Hambro, Baron, 97, 100
—— Everard, 106
Hamworthy, Old Manor House at, 226
Handfast Point, 197
Handley Down, 34
Harbour, Bridport, 237
Hardy, Thomas, 2, 17, 18, 47, 70, 109, 114, 156, 190, 240, 256, 257,
260, 273, 282, 294
—— Thomas Masterman, 113
—— Wm., 194
Harold, Death of, 8
Harper, Hugo Daniel, 78
Hatton, Sir Christopher, 205, 217
Hawtrey, Mrs., 219
Henry III., 9, 235
—— V., 9
—— VI., 9, 92
—— VII., 144
—— VIII., 85, 96, 166, 178, 234, 245
Henry VIII., Inscription at Portland Castle to, 182
—— —— Letter from, 162
Herman, last Bishop of Sherborne, 7
Higher Bockhampton, birthplace of Thos. Hardy, 283
Hilton Church, Mediæval Panel Paintings in, 57
Hinton Parva, Carving in, 60
Hod Hill, 31
Holt, 120
Holworth, Burning Cliff at, 108, 190
—— Chapel to St. Catherine of Alexandria at, 104, 108
Homer, G. Wood, 262, 263
Horsey, Sir John, 85
Horton, Finding Monmouth at, 15
Hour-glass in Bloxworth Church, 56
Howard, Catherine, 182
Hundred Years’ War, 230
Hutchins, John, the Dorset historian, 114, 227, 257, 262, 265, 267,
274, 276
Hut Circles, 20
Iberians, 3
Ibernium, Station at, 36
Ilchester, Lord, 261
Ilsington House, 261