he afterwards put in force to redeem his kingdom from the invaders; and many a goodly oak was standing at the period of which we write, that had thrown its grey and weather-beaten branches over the head of the Saxon monarch. The venerable Chaucer also dwelt here in a later day, and many a beautiful description of the surrounding scenery may yet be traced in his pages, the general features of which, nature herself preserved, almost up to the present time.

It was on a sweet morning towards the latter end of May, and about the close of the reign of Stephen, that a troop of young nuns, and other damsels from the neighbouring nunnery of Godstow, were wandering among the green bowers of Woodstock, a privilege which had been granted to that convent from time immemorial. Merry were the hearts of those maidens as they rambled from glade to thicket, now running where the sunbeams beat on the delicate greensward, or lingering a moment in the faint shadows of the newly-robed trees;

and well did their loud laughter mingle with the melodious song of the sky-lark, as it winged its way into the clear blue of heaven, and showered down a flood of music. The waters of the Glyme-then a deep but narrow river-also went plashing blythely between its flowery banks, now falling on the ear in pleasant murmurs, then gliding along scarcely audible, just as it was drowned by the boisterous voices of the light-hearted group, or caught up by the fitful sounding of the wind. Here and there a heavy bee went muttering to itself from daisy to king-cup, sometimes swinging on a drooping bell, then winging his way down the sun-lit coppice, until he was lost amid the clustering underwood. The scene was also enlivened by herds of deer of the choicest breeds, which were scattered up and down in a variety of picturesque positions, some basking in the open patches of sunlight, others half hidden in the green gloom, or scarcely to be distinguished, saving by the glancing of their antlers, from the brown boles and mossy stems by which they

stood. But beautiful as the whole landscape appeared, the presence of those lovely maidens seemed to give it an additional charm, and to throw a life into the scenery, which it could not otherwise have possessed. Here a little knot were busied in gathering the blossoming may, some standing a tip-toe, or jumping up to reach the pink-flushed branches, which filled the very air with fragrance. Further on by a broken and banky eminence, which was overgrown with primroses and violets, was another party dispersed in just such positions as a painter would love to see them placed, to break the foreground of a picture. The low and overhanging branches of a few dwarf-oaks, were also in quiet keeping with the scene, and harmonized well with the various figures, as they were stooping to gather flowers, or standing to arrange those they had collected. Two or three, who appeared to be the most youthful of the party, had retired to where a swing was suspended from the arms of two sturdy trees, and laughed aloud whenever they tossed their

companion high among the thick foliage. A few there were, and they the eldest of the party, who assumed a more staid deportment, and took no share in the merriment of their companions, but conversed together in low and serious tones: these grave-looking maidens also wore the sober habit of their order, and from time to time cast a sharp glance on the different groups around them.

No religious order in England possessed more privileges than the nuns of Godstow, for it was only in extreme cases that any of them took the veil and vow, after the rigid manner with which such things were enforced in other establishments. It is moreover on record, that they had the liberty of attending a fair in the neighbourhood once a year, and that Robert de Witham presented them with a pleasure-house at Medley, whither they used to betake themselves for days together, freed from all the trammels and ceremonies of the of the convent. Many of the Norman nobles who lived in the adjacent counties sent their daughters here to

be educated, without any idea of their ever taking the veil, but only expecting them to learn a little rude embroidery, with just skill enough to decypher a prayer or two from some richly illuminated missal, or with the greatest possible industry to be able to imitate the massy black letters, in which the manuscripts were written. Nor was there another nunnery in the whole shire of Oxford, that could boast of so much tapestry as that of Godstow: one old "St. Luke" was celebrated throughout all the neighbouring countries, copies of him having been made for a score or two of convents, much to the annoyance of the nuns, for he was the very horn-book of embroidery.

Nor were convents alone dedicated to religion and learning, for many a high-born maiden, during these turbulent times, sought shelter within their walls from the brutal barons, who regarding no law that interfered with their own. passions, made light of bearing them away captives, unless they were under the protection of some religious order. A proof of this existed