tagged together into a ballad which commemorated their panic, and told how

"Five hundred Papishes came there

To make a final end

Of all the town in time of prayer,
But God did them defend !"

Among the notabilities of Reading may be mentioned the appearance in it of two very eminent though very different men, in quite unexpected characters. "There is a tradition among the Baptists at Reading," says the best biographer of John Bunyan, that Bunyan, towards the end of his life, when nonconforming preachers could not travel without risk, "sometimes went through the town dressed like a carter, and with a long whip in his hand to avoid detection."* The other is a more singular transformation. That the brave

tinker of Elstow would even in his olden days wield the long whip not unskilfully may be well supposed, but how the metaphysician and poet would handle the musket, or rub down his horse, it is not so easy to imagine. It is related, however, that an officer of the 15th dragoons, one day, in 1794, happened to overlook a private of that regiment read

* 66 Reading," it is added, "was a place where he was well known: the house in which the Baptists met for worship was in a lane there, and from the back door they had a bridge over a branch of the river Kennet, whereby, in case of alarm, they might escape. In a visit to that place, he contracted the disease which brought him to the grave. A friend of his who resided there had resolved to disinherit his son; the young man requested Bunyan to interfere in his behalf; he did so with good success, and it was his last labour of love; for returning to London on horseback, through heavy rain, a fever ensued, which, after ten days, proved fatal."-Southey.

VOL. I.

H

ing a Latin Horace in a public-house in Reading at which he was quartered. So unusual a circumstance led him to make some inquiries about this "noticeable man," and he was told that his name was Silas Tomkins Cumberbatch, and that his comrades and others were accustomed to assemble of an evening to hear him talk, his conversation being of an extraordinary character. This account stimulated his curiosity, and he questioned Silas himself, when he soon found that he had run-away from Cambridge, where he was a student, and, after enduring great privations in London, had enlisted in this regiment, and that his real name was Samuel Taylor Coleridge. When the friends of the young soldier were informed of his situation, they of course speedily procured his discharge.*

We must now look at what Reading has to show, which, however, is not much.

Of the abbey and the friars some vestiges still remain, but the greater part has been demolished.

*The story is very variously told. Some say that the officer was led to inquire about Cumberbatch by finding a Greek or Latin verse written under his saddle, or on the wall of the stable. It is only certain that Coleridge was a private in the regiment from Dec. 1793 to April 1794, and was at Reading in that capacity. It appears that he did not to the last manage either horse or musket in a very soldier-like way. He used to get his comrades to take care of his charger, in return for which he wrote their letters. With his arms he was not so successful. On one occasion the officer in command, seeing in the stand a musket in uncommonly bad case, shouted, "Whose rusty musket is this?" "Is it very rusty, sir?" asked Cumberbatch. "Yes, it is very rusty." "Then it is mine, sir," was the reply. It is often stated that

Coleridge wrote his "Religious Musings" in "a tap-room in Reading," but a note attached to the poem states it to have been written on Christmas-eve, 1794, which was eight months after he had quitted the regiment.

At the dissolution a portion of the abbey was spared, and converted into a residence for the monarch. Elizabeth often visited Reading, and the place came to be known as the Queen's House; her successor also once or twice occupied it. From that time its destruction was rapid. During the Civil War it suffered greatly: the parts that had been fortified were blown up by the Parliamentary soldiers on the termination of the siege; and other portions that retained anything of ornament were defaced by them. The huge masses of wall that remained were regarded as a quarry. Some portions had, when the abbey was first dismantled, been used for the repairs or enlargement of the parish churches and for building the hospital for the Poor Knights of Windsor; after the Restoration the walls served to build kitchens and the like at Windsor ; the last appropriation of them on a large scale was by the late General Conway, who, having a taste for antiquities, built a fantastic modern-antique bridge across the Wargrave-road, to connect the two sides of his estate; but they are still resorted to when rough stonework is wanted. There are yet left large amorphous masses of the walls, which are of flint, and chalk, and stone, cemented strongly together, and of enormous thickness. One of the principal gateways remains in something like the original form, but it has been sadly patched and botched with brick and plaster. It now serves as the entrance to the Forburg. In the national school and some other buildings, portions have been worked-up; but the most interesting fragment left is a part of the abbey-mill, and it still serves its original purpose. It stands at no great distance from the gateway just mentioned, on a

little dirty brook, but once a clean lively one, the "hallowed brook" of the old abbey, now called the Holy Brook. Over the millrace is a Norman archway with its characteristic carving plainly discernible, though a good deal damaged. The abbey stood in a right pleasant situation, looking over the broad Thames, but safe from its overflowings, and watered by the delicate Kennet, with this little branch of it to turn a mill and serve the kitchen. It covered an area of several acres. The county gaol now occupies a considerable portion of the abbey grounds.

Of the "Friars" there are some remains in Friarstreet. At the suppression of the monastery, a part of the building was granted to the corporation, who were anxious to remove from their old townhall, for what now sounds to English ears a rather curious reason. The old hall stood by the river Kennet, near the spot which was used by the town'swomen for washing clothes; and the corporation in their petition say that the clapping of the battledores made so much noise as greatly to interrupt the transaction of the public business. Now-adays, if we were unluckily situated by such a spot, it would be the noise of some other clappers than wooden ones that we should be in dread of.

There was once a castle in Reading, but it was destroyed by Stephen; the situation of it is believed to be marked by the present Castle-street. The old churches, as I have said, have been shockingly mutilated and decorated, but about those of St. Lawrence and St. Mary some "bits" may be found worth looking_at closely. Both have good and lofty towers. There is a curious building erected rather more than two centuries ago, when

the woollen manufacture was the staple of the town, for the employment of the poor in that manufacture, which bears the odd name of "the Oracle,” and will attract notice by its showy gateway. About the town are a few old houses, but I do not remember any of much note. Those best worth

looking at are in Minster-street.

Reading has produced its share of eminent men, but perhaps the most famous is Archbishop Laud, who was the son of a poor cloth-worker in Broadstreet. The prominent share he had in the councils of his sovereign, and the disastrous results of many of his proceedings, together with his own sad end, must always make him to be regarded with interest. Recent events have caused his name to be frequently mentioned, and his character to be commented upon with unusual warmth. So long as the age in which he lived is discussed in a spirit of partizanship, his character will be regarded with very opposite feelings. The best measure wherewith to try the length and breadth, and plumb the depth of his mind, is afforded by his own diary.

The river Kennet, which flows through Reading, and falls into the Thames just below it, is the most important tributary our river has yet received. It would afford a pleasant ramble in itself; passing, as it does, not only some very lovely scenery, but also by a great many places of more than common interest. It rises near Yatesbury, on the edge of the Wiltshire downs, and before it quits Wiltshire passes close to Avebury, where are those famous Druidic remains which exceed Stonehenge in extent, though they are far inferior in grandeur; by the vast earthwork known as Silchester Hill, and through the fine old town of Marlborough. In Berkshire