Part 12

As he spoke, we stood within the charmed light of the nine windows of the apse,--windows which have perhaps no remaining equals in the world, and before which one can only bow in admiration and regret for an art that seems forever lost. Holding me fast by the arm, he went on:--

"In the restoration of the church, the spandrels of the old windows were rebuilt, and the frames were set with plain glass, to the sad defacement of the edifice; and so they stood for nigh two hundred years, no art being equal to their worthy replacement, and no ancient store to the supplying of so large a demand.

"But listen, now, how the hand of Heaven sheltered its own, and how true servants of the Church are ever guided to reclaim its lost splendor.

"A few years ago, a canon of the cathedral, travelling in Flanders, wishing to contribute to the renewed work of restoration, visited the dismantled convent of Herkenrode in the ancient bishopric of Liege. Here he sought among the rubbish of the lumber-room for wood-carvings which might be used in the rebuilding of the prebendal stalls. His search discovered many boxes of colored glass, the origin of which no one knew, and whose existence even had been forgotten. Thinking to embellish some of the curious triangular windows above the triforium, he purchased the whole store for two hundred pounds of our money, and presented it to the dean and chapter as a tribute of affectionate devotion to the cathedral. There was more than he had supposed, and the large figures of some of the fragments indicated a coherent design.

"This chapel was fenced off from the aisles, and here the canon's wife and daughter, devoting themselves to the solution of the puzzle, slowly pieced out the varying connections. They worked patiently for weeks, with a steadily increasing excitement of success, until [and here his grasp grew tremulous and close], lying collated on this pavement where we stand, only a bit wanting here and there, marking the exact sizes of the varied openings, the grand old Lichfield windows, perfect as you see them now in this softened moonlight, had come back to enrich forevermore the dear old church to whose glory they had shone in the bygone centuries, and whose sore trials their absence had so long recalled.

"Kind stranger," said he, "this is a true tale. Sceptics have questioned it, but it is true! true! And I thank Heaven that it has been permitted to me, who have grown old in the love of this sacred pile, to live to see, in this crowning act of its restoration, the higher help the hand of man has had in performing its holy work."

His upturned blue eyes were moistened with tears, and his voice trembled with emotion. I led him gently away and to the doorstep of the Hospital of St. John the Baptist, where we parted in silence, and forever.

Supping at the Swan Inn, I took the late train for Liverpool and home, bringing with me an ideal Lichfield, to which it would perhaps have been rash to hold the light of a Lichfield day.

FOX-HUNTING IN ENGLAND.

On entering the Regent Hotel at Leamington the first object that attracts attention, after the stuffy old porter who hobbles about to see some one else handle the luggage, is a small frame, over the smoking coal-fire, which contains the following notice, decorated with an old cut of a fox's mask:--

MERRY & CO.'S HUNTING APPOINTMENTS, AND GUIDE TO THE DIFFERENT COVERTS.

December 30, 1872.

WARWICKSHIRE,--at 10.45.

Days. Meet at Miles. To go through M. Goldicote House. 11. Wellerbourne and Loxley. Tu. Radway Grange. 12. Tachbrook and Kineton. W. Snitterfield. 7. Warwick and Stratford Road. Th. Red Hill. 13. Warwick and Snitterfield. F. Pebworth. 16. Warwick and Stratford.

NORTH WARWICKSHIRE,--at 11.

M. Solihull. 14. Warwick and Hatton. Tu. Cubbington Gate. 2. Lillington. Th. Stoneleigh Abbey. 4. On Kenilworth Road. F. Tile Hill. 9. By Kenilworth Castle.

PYTCHLEY,--at 10.45.

M. Naseby. 26. Princethorpe and Rugby. Tu. Hazlebeach. 31. Dunchurch and Crick. W. Dingley. 33. Rugby and Swinford. F. Cransley. 36. Maidwell. S. Swinford. 19. Princethorpe and Rugby.

ATHERSTONE,--at 11.

M. Coombe. 12. Bubbenhall and Wolston. W. Harrow Inn Gate. 20. Coventry and Nuneaton. F. Brinklow Station. 12. Bubbenhall and Wolston. S. Corley. 14. Stoneleigh and Coventry.

BICESTER,--at 10.45.

M. Fenny Compton. 12. Radford and Ladbrook. Tu. Trafford Bridge. 19. Southam and Wormleighton. Th. Hellidon. 14. Southam and Priory Marston. S. Steeple Claydon. 40. Gaydon and Banbury.

Twenty-two meets in the week, all within easy reach, by road or rail. Let us dine and decide. At table we will leave the menu to the waiter; but let him bring for consideration during the meal the list of meets. "Brinklow Station, twelve miles"; that seems the most feasible thing in the catalogue for the morrow, and who has not heard that the Atherstone is a capital pack? But then the Pytchley is even better known, and the train reaches Rugby in time for the meet. Let the choice be decided with the help of coffee and cigars and possible advice, during the soothing digestive half-hour in the smoking-room. Dinner over, wander away through the tortuous, dim passage that leads to the sombre hall where alone in English inns the twin crimes of billiards and smoking are permitted, and, while writhing under the furtive glances of the staid and middle-aged East-Indian who evidently knows you for an American, and who is your only companion, decide, with your nation's ability to reach conclusions without premises, whether it shall be Pytchley or Atherstone. Don't ask your neighbor: he is an Englishman, and have we not been told that Englishmen are gruff, reticent men, who wear thick shells, and whose warm hearts can be reached only with the knife of a regular introduction? However, you must make up your mind what to do, and you need help which neither the waiter nor the porter can give; the "gentlemanly clerk" does not exist in England (thank Heaven!) and you have not yet learned what an invaluable mine of information "Boots" is,--faithful, useful, helpful, and serviceable to the last degree. I salute him with gratitude for all he has done to make life in English hotels almost easier and more home-like than in one's own house. It is safe to advise all travellers to make him an early ally, to depend on him, to use him, almost to abuse him, and, finally, on leaving, to "remember" him. Not yet having come to know the Boots, I determined to throw myself on the tender mercies of my stern, silent companion, and I very simply stated my case. My stern, silent companion was an exception to the rule, and he told me all I wanted to know (and more than I knew I needed to know) with a cordiality and frankness not always to be found among the genial smokers of our own hotels. His voice was in favor of the Atherstone as being the most acceptable thing for the next day.

Ford, the veterinary surgeon of Leamington, had, on several occasions, done good service for friends who had gone before me over the hedges of North Warwickshire, and I went to him for advice about a mount. Here I found that I had made a mistake in not engaging horses in advance. To get a "hunter" for the next day would be impossible, but he would do what he could for a few days hence. All he could promise for the morning would be to lend me a horse of his own, a thoroughbred mare, not up to my weight, but tough and wiry, and good for any amount of road-work. He kindly volunteered to arrange for our going by the first train to Coventry, only a couple of miles from Brinklow (it turned out to be nine miles), so that we should arrive fresh on the ground. At seven o'clock in the morning he came to my room to say that everything was arranged, and that I should find the mare at the station in an hour. Swallowing a glass of milk as a stay-stomach,--my usual habit,--I put myself, for the first time since the war ended, into breeches and boots, and drove to the station. On a turn-out stood a "horse-box," one of the institutions of England,--a three-stabled freight-car for the transportation of horses. Paying five shillings for a horse-ticket to Coventry (only twice the cost of my own seat), I saw the mare snugly packed into one of the narrow stalls and made fast for the journey. Passing through a beautiful farming country, we came in due time to the quaint old town of Coventry, where several horse-boxes, coming from Birmingham and other stations, were discharging their freight of well-bred hunters. As we rode from this station another hard-shelled Englishman in brown top-boots and spotless white leather breeches accosted me pleasantly, reminding me that we had come from London together the day before, and asking, as he had recognized me for an American, if he could be of service to me.

"Pray how did you know that I am from America?"

"Only by your asking if you should change 'cars' at Rugby. An Englishman would have said 'carriages.'"

"Very well; I am glad my ear-mark was no greater. Can you direct me to a hotel where I can get a bite before I go on?"

"Certainly: you will find the Angel very comfortable; take the next street to the right, and you will soon reach it. Good morning; it is nine miles to the meet, and I will move on slowly. Command me if I can help you when you come up."