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A SLEEPY TOWN

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hopes raised in a similar manner proved illusive. Then we remembered Wordsworth's lines:

Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown!

It must, or we shall rue it!

We have a vision of our own;

Ah! why should we undo it!

Well, we had "a vision of our own" of what the Ouse would be like-" should we undo it?" We had asked ourselves almost a similar question before of one picturesque spot by the same river's side near Tempsford, as may be remembered, but that was only of one special nook, not of a five miles' stretch of country!

We found St. Ives to be a drowsy, old-fashioned town, delightfully unprogressive, and little given to so-called modern improvements-a place where the feverish rush of life seemed stayed. It struck us as being quaint rather than picturesque, though its curious old bridge, hoary with antiquity, certainly deserved both these epithets, and bits of its buildings, here and there, proved eminently sketchable. Whilst we were drawing an odd gable which took our fancy, an elderly stranger approached and began to converse with us-a frequent incident under such circumstances, so much so that we had become quite accustomed to it. The stranger in this case turned out trumps, in that he was somewhat of a character, possessing a fund of entertaining information about local subjects that interested us. He was a quiet - spoken and pleasant - mannered man, rather shabbily dressed, as though he paid

little heed to the cut of his coat or external appearances, but his linen was scrupulously clean. We felt puzzled what position in the varied economy of life to assign to him, nor did any chance remarks of his help us in this respect. But, after all, who or what he might be was no business of ours. "Have you seen the old bridge yet?" was one of his first questions. Then he went on to say, "You must not miss that, it is the queerest bridge in England; it was constructed by the old monks originally; there's a curious building right in the middle of it, on the site of an ancient chapel in which prayers used to be offered up for the safety of travellers starting on a journey, and thanks were given for their safe arrival. When the chapel and priests were done away with, a lighthouse was put up in its place to help the river traffic, so I've been told; then the lighthouse got burnt down; and afterwards, when the people found that they could get along without either chapel or lighthouse, the place was converted into a dwelling-house, and that's what it is now. There's not many folk, I fancy, in these times, who have their home in the middle of a bridge! It is a wonderful old building, you must not miss it on any account," and we promised that we would not. "Then there's our church," he went on; "the spire of it has been blown down twice, though you might not think it on such a day as this; but it does blow terribly hard here at times: the wind comes up the river and sweeps down upon us in the winter, now and then, hard enough to take you off your legs. I've been blown down myself by it when crossing

A STRANGE STORY

89

the bridge. But I was going to tell you a strange bit of history connected with our church, which I believe is quite unique. Many years ago-I don't just now remember the exact date, but it was over two hundred years back-a Dr. Wilde left a sum of money in his will, the interest on which was to go to buy Bibles to be tossed for by dice on the Communion table by six boys and six girls of the parish, and the tossing still takes place every year according to the will, only now it is done on a table in the vestry instead of on the Communion table. Now that's a bit of curious history, is it not?" and we confessed that it was, and duly jotted it all down in our note-book just as told to us. When we had finished, our informant further added, “I have heard that an account of the dice-tossing was given in one of the London papers, only by some mistake it was said. to have taken place at St. Ives in Cornwall, and some one from there wrote to the paper and said that there was not a word of truth in the story." So the conversation went on. The only other item of special interest that I can remember now, is that he remarked that perhaps we did not know the origin of the name of Huntingdon. We confessed our ignorance on the subject, and he forthwith kindly enlightened us, though I cannot, of course, in any way vouch for the authenticity of a statement made by an utter stranger in the street of a country town! Still, I give it for what it may be worth, and because the derivation seems not only plausible but probable. According to our unknown authority, then, in Saxon. times the country around Huntingdon was one vast

and the place was Hunting - town, in

forest given over to the chase, then called Hunting - ton - or

modern English-and from this to Huntingdon is an easy transition.

Curiously enough, just after writing this record of a chance conversation, I came upon a paragraph in the Standard giving an account of the St. Ives dice - tossing, which runs as follows, and bears out the story as told to us :-" The ancient custom of raffling for Bibles in the parish church of St. Ives took place yesterday. The vicar directed the proceedings, and twelve children cast dice for the six Bibles awarded. The custom dates from 1675, and is in accordance with the will of Dr. Wilde, who left £50 to provide a fund for the purpose. It was expended on what is still called Bible Orchard,' with the rent of which the books are bought, and a small sum paid to the vicar for preaching a special

sermon."

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The bridge at St. Ives we found to be a most interesting and picturesque structure, having a tall building over the centre pier, and in addition a low and smaller building over another pier at the farther end, that looked as though it might have been originally a toll-house. Four out of the six arches of the bridge were pointed, and thereby suggested the ecclesiastical architect. The remaining two were rounded, doubtless reconstructed so at a later period. At the base of the house that stood in the middle of the bridge was a little balcony with iron railings round it, to which access was given by a door, so that the tenant of the house could sit outside and

A HOUSE ON A BRIDGE

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have a quiet smoke whilst amusing himself watching the craft going up and down stream. The bridges

at Bradford-on-Avon in Wiltshire and at Wakefield in Yorkshire have their old chapels, and one of the bridges at Monmouth has its ancient fortified. gateway thereon; but I do not know of any bridge in England besides that of St. Ives that has an inhabited house upon it.

Crossing the river on the quaint, old, and timeworn bridge (of which an engraving is given at the head of the first chapter), we soon found ourselves once again in the greenful country; and walking over a meadow that seemed to us a good mile long, we reached the pleasant Ouse, shimmering like a broad band of silver in the soft sunshine, and gliding slowly and smoothly along its sinuous course between flower-decked fields and reed-grown banks, with over-arching trees ever and again that gave deliciously cool reflections in the stream below.

After the hoary bridge and ancient time-dimmed town, how fresh and bright looked the fair open country, so full of exuberant vitality! How gray and aged the dusky town appeared from our distant standpoint-the wear and tear of centuries was upon it; by contrast how ever young and unchangeable the country seemed. The one so mutable, the other so immutable!

As we wandered on, we suddenly found ourselves in a most picturesque nook, where the river made a bend and a bay, and was overshadowed by trees a peace-bestowing spot it was, and in the shallow edge of the stream, beneath the sheltering

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