coat" scholars of our own day. Somewhat apart from the villeins and tradespeople stood the knights and nobles, decked in silk and velvet, their cotte hardie or tight-fitting vests (from the sleeves of which hung long strips of cloth) partly hidden by a bright coloured mantle fastened jauntily at the shoulder. A few had hats with feathers in them, that fashion having just come in; others wore small hoods tied under the chin and ornamented with jewels or gold. Below their parti-coloured hose their very conspicuous long shoes were noticeable, some with toes bending upward like the claws of a bird, and looped with chains of gold or silver to

the knees, sadly impeding the movement of their owners. The ballad poetry of the day did not spare these extravagant nobles, and laughed at the way they enlarged their shoulders artificially and made themselves look broader "than God made them," and at their wide collars which caused their necks to appear as if prepared for the axe! Probably during the prayers offered up at the opening of the college, there were some who, when others knelt, were forced to "stand on their heels not able to bend their legs" for the tightness of their hose. It was the know. ledge of these follies in dress which made Wykeham lay down such strict rules for his

We must now turn to the building inside which the crowd was gathered.

Through the archway we enter the first or outer court of the college; here the brewhouse is just the same, but on the left where formerly there was an open space, is the warden's house, having absorbed into itself the old bakehouse, slaughterhouse and butcher's room, which all bordered the stream -for such an establishment could not then be dependent on outside assistance for obtaining the necessaries of life. Over the second archway stand on either side three figures: the Virgin Mother in the centre, with Gabriel, the angel of the annunciation, on her right, and Wykeham kneeling on her left. Here used to be rooms for the warden, who could thence obtain a good view of all who came in and out. To the right were chambers for the masters (there being originally only two) which have since been heightened, and form the second master's house: the scholars, the chaplains, and the choristers lived within the inner quadrangle, the northern side of which is formed by the chapel and the refectory. Of the original character of the chapel, except as to proportion, and the beautiful fangroining of its roof, we can hardly judge, defaced as it was in the 17th century, and restored as it has been in the 19th, with a perfectly new reredos, and destitute of that warmth of colour which once probably relieved the blank whiteness of its walls. The refectory has been almost untouched, except for the addition of panelling; the roof enriched with carved wood-work, the coloured heads of kings and bishops, and the great stone mullioned windows all show how strength and beauty were combined by the master builder. Over the buttery, reached by a winding stone staircase, we come to the audit-room, hung with ancient tapestry, where formerly the rents were paid, and where in a corner stands a huge chest, shown as Wykeham's money-box! The original

schoolroom at the basement (now a bedroom) is somewhat dark according to our modern ideas, but those were not days when personal comfort was much considered. The chantry, the beautiful cloisters around it, and the chapel tower were all built after Wykeham's death. He only provided a wooden belltower, which stood separate from the chapel, so that the vibration of the bells should not injure the main building.

It was several years before the whole scheme both as to building and organisation was complete, and pending this the bishop was not idle, for he made a special visitation of St. Swithun's Monastery, where the monks, now reduced from sixty to forty-six, complained of their scanty provisions, caused by their priors having of late appropriated the funds. Then almost immediately he turned his attention to the cathedral, where Edingdon's west end must have looked very incongruous with the rest, and, threescore years and ten though he was, the old architect determined at once to use all his engineering skill in turning the flat-roofed Norman nave into what we now have. The prior seems to have been of one mind with the bishop about the work, for he gladly promised to help with materials from the convent property. Per

fect as was the transformation from the one style into another, there is yet stonework remaining which tells plainly of the change, for near the choir-screen are two short massive pillars, unchanged from Norman time. In Wykeham's day these pillars were hidden by a wide vestibule extending from north to south at the entrance of the choir, over which probably stood the cross of Stigand, the Saxon archbishop, and paintings of Bible scenes. Outside the cathedral, the contrast is great between the plain bare wall of the south side with the buttresses and pinnacles of the north-but here too we must remember that along the former ran the cloister, the absolute destruction of which Wykeham could never have imagined possible.

During the early part of this time the country was much agitated by the troubles which beset Richard, who could no longer hold his own against his powerful cousin, Henry Bolingbroke. Wykeham was present, when, before the assembled Parliament, the deposed king read his own resignation, which was greeted by shouts of joy; and six days later the Bishop of Winchester again took part in the ceremony when Henry IV. was proclaimed sovereign. Wykeham's name, however, does not appear amongst those who sentenced Richard to perpetual imprison

ment, for though he could not but acknowledge the bad use which the last king had made of his power, yet was he not the son of his former friend, and grandson of his early patron and benefactor? What lay in his power the kind-hearted bishop did, for he sheltered in Waverly Palace, Richard's confessor, who, ruined and driven away from court, had no other refuge.

Wykeham once more took part in a state ceremony, for he attended the coronation banquet, and then his political career ended,

his clergy and he made and signed his will, leaving out of those riches "which the mercy of the Saviour had bestowed upon him" innumerable gifts and legacies to all manner of persons. His debts were to be discharged in full, "without let or hindrance, controversy or delay." He must even have pictured the crowds of poor who would flock to his funeral, for every one seeking a bounty that day was to have 4d. "for the love of God and his soul's health." Especially he provided money for the completion of the cathedral, giving to it besides many rich vestments and other precious things, amongst them a golden cross, encased within which was a piece of the "Tree of the Lord." Even the king was not forgotten-Henry IV. was forgiven a debt of 500l. and was to receive a pair of silver-gilt basins engraved with double roses-a present possibly from Edward III. when his favourite was building and repairing his castles and his palaces.

And the end soon came, for the next sight which the people of Winchester witnessed was the funeral of their great master builder. It was in his palace at Bishop's Waltham, where of late years he had chiefly lived, that he lay down to die. Though his body was weak, yet his mind was clear; until four days before his death he received his stewards and

But to return to the upper chamber where the bishop lay. At eight o'clock in the morning of Sept. 27th, a change passed over the noble features, very quietly the eyes closed, having given their last look upon the crucifix held up by a chaplain, the hand, once so skilful, relaxed, but there was a smile on the lips which, as far as was possible to man, had known no guile, then the great soul departed from the earthly temple, for the master builder had gone to a mansion prepared for him by Divine Hands.

The funeral procession along the ten miles from Bishop's Waltham to Winchester moved through crowds of people sorrowing as for the loss of a father, and at his own episcopal town, all the citizens thronged towards the cathedral, where the prior was waiting at the entrance to receive the procession into the building. Here the prelate was laid in the beautiful chantry he had made ready for himself. The inscription on the tomb tells us of his works, but Wykeham will want no inscription as long as his "two fair colleges" stand, and as long as the cathedral which owes so much to him still towers above the watered valley of the Itchen.

"Nations and thrones and reverend laws have melted like a dream,

Yet Wykeham's works are green and fresh beside the crystal stream."

The Authors of Historic Winchester.

ERHAPS I ought to begin by mentioning that this is not a "City Article." Nor am I either a broker or a jobber, although I do propound the question-Does any reader ardently burn to possess himself of some Doughtown scrip? If so, I am prepared to supply a considerable parcel of the same.

It behoves me to explain, first, what "Doughtown scrip" is, and secondly, how I came to be a holder of it. It is necessary to begin by being geographical.

Nearly the whole of the west coast of the Middle Island of New Zealand is auriferous. Fifteen years ago the diggings there were perhaps the richest in the world. It seemed as if you could hardly go wrong. A ship's boat disembarked you on the black sand of the sea-shore. You need have gone no further, but simply have shovelled the black sand into your dish, washed it in the seawater, and lo! there was a rich golden residuum. Ten thousand diggers-you could not call them miners-were delving in the black sand of a long strip of beach sixty miles south of Hokitika. On the low ridge behind the sand was a long row of canvas drinking-shops and canvas dance-houses. It was the same on the beach between Hokitika and Greymouth. Inland for miles the valley of every creek swarmed with toiling diggers. Hokitika to-day moulders along with population of some 2,000 souls, and a digger on the "bend" in its quiet decorous publichouses would be regarded as a strange curiosity. Fifteen or sixteen years ago there was gathered in and about it a population of some 30,000 able-bodied adults, with no thought in any mind but of gold. Teeming

a

steamers arrived twice a week from Melbourne, and discharged their living cargoes to increase the busy, light-hearted throng. These were the halcyon days of "the Speckled Hen," the "Murrumbidgee Barge," "Topping Annie," and other gay allegorical persons of light heart and lighter manners, who looked scornfully at little nuggets, and thought poorly of the economist who called for a single bottle of champagne, after a couple of circuits in the waltz's giddy maze. The region had something amazingly like a civil war all to itself; when a small army of gentlemen of the Irish persuasion broke open the gates of the cemetery, and when a serried battalion of six hundred Scotch Highland miners marched into the town with pick handle on each brawny shoulder, and in a quiet business-like fashion tendered their services to the warden, "to drive the Fenians into the sea." A strong, wise, masterfully discreet man, Mr. Bonner ruled the storm and assuaged it, but not until he had locked up a revolutionary priest, and exercised martial law carried out at the pistol muzzle by volunteers who had rallied to his support. It was a great triumph for him to be able to decline the offer the colonial government made him of a battalion of regulars to help him keep the peace. He knew the men he

had to deal with, and to have had the soldiers would have been to draw the sword and throw away the scabbard.

Gold-mining is still an industry of this remote, isolated coast-line. But there is hardly any "surface" work now. A "rush occurs occasionally, but it is a very mild "rush," with no feature of the old buoyant, reckless, wicked rushes. "Kentuck" after a brief acquaintance with the Luck" for whom and with whom he died with so tender a manhood, knew more about baby-ways

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