A CURIOUS TOLL 431 which struck us as a clean, neat little town with thatched and slab-roofed houses in its streets, and a charming old butter-cross set away in a quiet corner, with a sun-dial on the top and the ancient stocks below. Near to the butter-cross stands the banqueting-hall of Oakham Castle, all that now remains of that stronghold. Within, the walls of this hall are hung round with a number of gigantic horse - shoes, some gilt, and nearly all with the names of titled people painted on them. On inquiring the wherefore of this, we were told that the custom of the Lord of the Manor anciently exerted to show his authority, and still maintained, is to claim a horse-shoe from every peer who passes through the town for the first time. Instead of real horse-shoes, in every instance but one, large imitation shoes to hang up have been purposely made. The one real horse-shoe is that of Lord Willoughby d'Eresby, dated 1840. of Queen Elizabeth. The oldest shoe is that Certainly the custom is a curious one, and it would be interesting to trace its origin. From Oakham we had a delightful drive of six miles on to Uppingham. The weather had cleared up, and the sun was shining quite cheerfully again. There was a freshness and a fragrance in the air that was very grateful to us. Our road was level at first, then we had a stiffish climb up to Mantonon-the-Hill, a forsaken-looking village of stone-built houses set on a height and grouped around an ancient church that looked so pathetically old. Most of the houses there were gray with age and picturesque besides, with porches, mullioned windows, and moulded gables, one of the latter being surmounted by a quaint sun-dial. We just took a glance at the interior of the crumbling church which was interesting; but an old woman we discovered there sweeping the floors interested us even more, for humanity, when characteristic, is ever better worth study than mere inert matter. She concluded her long life's story by saying that she was seventy-two, and cleaned the church and blew the organ, as it was a little help towards living, her husband being paralysed, "and he's only seventyseven." Just as though it were a reproach to him. his being helpless at that early age! A "give and take" road with more takes than gives, it seemed to us, brought us to Uppingham, where we found a comfortable hotel. Here, while the daylight lasted, we took a stroll round the town, and admired the new school buildings in the course of erection. Then we went into one or two shops to make a few purchases. At the first of these we remarked to the shopman, "You've got a fine school here." His reply rather took us aback. 'Yes, we have," said he. "It's all school here now and no town; we're as school-ridden as Spain is priestridden," and he spoke like a man who was sorely vexed in his soul about something; but he would not condescend to any explanations, so we left him and went to a stationer's shop for some trifle. Here we saw a photograph of a fine ruined mansion that attracted us from its manifest former importance, so we inquired where it was. "Oh, that's Kirby," A CHARMING VILLAGE 433 we were told; "it's near Rockingham, and some seven miles from here. It's well worth seeing. It was once nearly purchased for a residence for George III. It's a grand old place all falling to ruin, as you see." Upon this we purchased the photograph, and determined to visit Kirby the next day, as we found we could take it on our way by a slight detour. It was a grand drive over a wild open country to Rockingham, a charming village nestled at the foot of a wooded hill, which was crowned by a modernised feudal castle known locally as "the Windsor Castle of the Midlands." Here, with our usual good-fortune, we were permitted to see the gardens and the interior of the castle. We entered the courtyard through a great arched gateway, guarded on either hand by two massive round towers built in the Edwardian age, and as strong and substantial now as then. First we strolled round the old garden enclosed by a high stone wall. Alongside of this wall runs a broad terrace, from which elevated position looking down we had a glorious and space - expressing prospect over the wild Welland valley, bounded to the north by the wilderness of Lincolnshire hills showing green, gray, and faintly blue. The interior of the castle is interesting. This, with the treasures stored therein, would need pages of description to do them justice. On the roofbeam of the entrance-hall we noticed the following motto painted: :-"This Howse Shall Be Preserved And Never Will Decaye Wheare The Almightie God Is Honored And Served Daye By Daye, 1579." Here is an iron treasure-chest that once belonged to King John. In the old Elizabethan gallery are a number of interesting paintings by Van Dyke, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and other famous artists. Here also was pointed out to us a portrait supposed by some authorities to represent Queen Elizabeth when an infant, but it is of doubtful authenticity. Want of space unfortunately prevents my giving further particulars of this old historic pile set in its romantic park, rich in wood and charmingly varied by rugged hill and deep dale. We had a stiff climb out of Rockingham when we reached high ground, and turning to our left gradually descended to a well-wooded valley. In the heart of this we espied the ruined mansion of Kirby, situated low in a wild and desolate-looking park, and some half mile or so from the public road. Driving under the time-grayed gateway here, we had presented to us a vision of picturesque and pathetic decay. The vast mass of ruins attests the former grandeur of the place. When we were there cows were feeding in its grass-grown courtyards, portions of the structure were roofless, and the mullioned windows glazeless, birds wandered in and out of its deserted chambers, and weeds found lodgment in the crevices of its weather-beaten walls. It was a scene of desolation. But what struck us amongst the decay of roof, floor, panel, and window was the enduring quality of the stone-work. The masonry appeared little injured by mere age or weathering, it being damaged chiefly by the tumb A NORTHAMPTONSHIRE PROVERB 435 ling down of roofs and floors; the fine carvings on the stones being almost as sharp as when first chiselled centuries now ago. It would be interesting to learn where this splendid stone was quarried; it is manifestly magnificent building material. Architects might do worse than study this question. There is no doubt as to the designer of this stately mansion, for John Thorpe's plans of it are preserved in the Soane Museum, endorsed in his handwriting, "Kirby, whereof I layd the first stone, 1570." We were now in Northamptonshire that, according to the proverb, has More spires and more squires than any other county. |