LEGENDS OF BISHAM.* BY MISS M. I. BEEVOR. An old, old monastery once, and now It stands, embosom'd in a happy valley "How dreary!" exclaimed Letty Henshaw, the new housemaid at the venerable Abbey of Bisham (Berks.) How very dreary! I did'nt think Mrs. Benson, when i hired myself here, that I was a coming to such a gloommersome place, with nothing but woods, and hills and the river about it; old rooms, old furniture, and old queer places just like what one reads of in romances; and hark at the wind to night, howling through the cloisters, bemoaning about the old craggy turrets quite ghastly! No! no! I've been half frighted, Ma'am, out of my seven senses, since here I've been, and I'd never have come, if I'd knowed what sort of rambling an old tumble-down it were." Thus did the disconsolate maiden vent her discontent to the worthy housekeeper of Bisham Abbey, which, though modernized and kept in good repair, was an ancient mansion, answering in some respects her description of it. The night was stormy; "the family," viz, the superior class of residents at the abbey, had quitted it that morning for town, taking with them most of their domestics, but leaving it in charge of the trustworthy housekeeper, the new housemaid, and three or four out-door serving men; the under-gardener however a sprightly active young man, bad been desired to sleep in the house during the absence of the family and he was now sitting with the two females : Bisham Abbey, originally belonged to the Knights Templars, but after the dissolution of their Order, passed into various hands, and is now possessed by the Vansittart family. Historical, and legendary traditions of great interest attach to it; some of the latter find "a local habitation, a name," and, I believe for the first time, a written record in the following tale; but the former are only to be met with in antiquarian works of difficult access. The Abbey, as a modernized dwelling-house, presents few relics of what it was to the curious visitors, but it is pleasantly situated, in the vale of Bucks. on the banks of the Thames, one mile from Marlow, and environed by a park, and beautiful woodland scenery. beside the cheerful kitchen fire, enjoying a tumbler of brandy and water, and, in the prankishness of youth, well inclined to amuse himself with the terrors, real, or affected, of "Madam's new housemaid." "Very true, Miss," said he, in reply to Letty's observations, lonesome and rambling indeed, is this place,but if so be you like ghost stories, there's plenty belonging to it, which I'll be happy to tell you."-" Nonsense, nonsense, Tom Wilmot," cried the housekeeper, frowning, "how can you foolishly go to frighten the young woman with your idle stories, just upon going to bed, and when you hear" "Frighten!" interrupted Tom, slyly winking at the housekeeper, as much as to say, "don't believe the speech I'm about to make." 66 Frighten forsooth! Miss Letitia has too much sense to be frightened at what I would tell her by way of amusement, and what indeed she ought, as a new comer amongst us, to hear." Letty, taking perhaps as a stimulus to her courage, sundry sips from the tumbler, replied, "No, Mr. Thomas, I shall not be frightened, but very glad to hear something about this curious house, so you may begin when you like." "Nay, nay, Letty Henshaw, my good girl," interposed Mrs. Benson," that's foolishly said; Tom, like other idle lads, loves a joke, and once ask him for stories, there's no knowing what trashy falsehoods he may not palm upon you for truth." He "Mistress Benson," quoth Wilmot, affecting the air of a person somewhat offended, "you are quite mistaken; I'm going as it happens, to tell the young person historical facts-facts, Ma'am, which even you can't gainsay." then told Letty, how Bisham Abbey, once called Bustleham, might well have the credit of being so old a place, since it was originally a monastery, and certainly as ancient as the reign of King Stephen; that it had remained so for some time, but was made over by an Earl of Salisbury to those military monks, the Knights Templars, (propably he belonged to their order) whose wealth and power was so great, and whose fall so sudden and fearful; the Abbey must at one time been exceedingly rich, as it derived considerable emolument from many clerical and monastic quar ters, as well as revenue from landed property in several counties. He knew not whether it suffered as a monastic is institution in, or before, the reign of King Henry the 8th, but so early as the time of his son Edward 6th, it had become a private mansion, whereunto royalty itself did not disdain to repair. Poor Young Edward" continued Wil mot, the substance of whose account we are giving said to have visited this Abbey; Queen Elizabeth, it is well known did so; hence the armorial bearings with the letters E. R. (Elizabeth Regina,) though some say they stand for Edwardus Rex,) still in many parts decorating the house, hence the window, shewn as one, from which she harangued the people, and that in the hall, from which she offered thanks to carousers there, for drinking her health, hence the many relics of her called after her name, which this Abbey contains; and hence, not far from these walls, just across the fields, the little run of water, still called Queen Elizabeth's Spring, because it is reported she used to drink at it, and have the water brought to the Abbey to wash in, for, as I've read, she was a very vain woman, and spring water you know is good for the complexion." "Well," cried the deeply interested Letty, with a mental vow to discover, and benefit by Queen Elizabeth's Spring forthwith, I'm sure I ought to think it a great honour to live in the house in which great Queen Bess has once lived; but, indeed, Mr. Thomas, I should scarcely have thought it handsome enough for her." "The rooms are well enough now," observed Mrs. Benson, "whatever they might then have been; but our fine folks of older days, seem to have had queer notions of comfort, and cleanliness too, to judge by the relics of their houses, and manner of living now to be met with. Well, after Queen Elizabeth's time, some of the other sovereigns of England used to come here;* and specially in the time of the Civil Wars, was Bisham Abbey used for the accommodation of troops, but on which side, the Royal or Republican, I've never been able to make out. To this very day, the places where the soldiers slept, and the posts and King George the 3rd was, I believe, the last Royal Visitor to Bisham Abbey." rings to which they picketted their horses may be seen, whilst all kinds of curious old arms and armour, are from time to time dug up." "If you come to talk of digging," said Wilmot, “I, and old Jem, and the other men-" "Hold your tongue, Tom, about such things now," interrupted the prudent housekeeper, "I know what you are going to say, and 'tis better left unsaid at this time of night." What a spoil-sport are you dame," replied the young gardener, "but speak I will, and if not about one thing, about another: and without wishing to frighten the young woman, by talking about skeletons and so forth, I'll just ask her, if she doesn't think it deuced odd, that Jenny Freeling, whose place Miss Letty has come to supply, should have disappeared from the Abbey, without a soul knowing how she went, or where she's gone to?" Disappeared!" quoth the stranger damsel. "Yes," answered Wilmot, "disappeared, I repeat; spirited away, there's little doubt, by the ghost of Lady Rus sell." ་་ Shame, shame, Thomas Wilmot!" cried the housekeeper, "to sit this blessed night telling such falsehoods, and just upon going to your bed, and 'tis to be hoped, to your prayers, sir! Don't believe him Letty Henshaw; don't credit such folly: spirited away, indeed! poor unhappy girl, she is more likelys by far to have thrown herself into the river, or the moat." "But they've both been dragged," observed Thomas, "and her body was not found." "What of that?" said Mrs. Benson," she'd ha' been aten by those warmin the rats, afore she'd been two hours in the water; besides, wasn't there plenty of carts, and coaches to carry her away? and hadn't she legs to walk off with, if she'd liked it?" Thomas shook his head incredulously. "She's now been missed these three weeks," continued Mrs. Benson," and I'll be judged by any body, whether a girl accused of stealing a dozen silver spoons, wasn't much more likely to take to her heels, or to drown herself, than to be spirited away, if the whole Abbey swarmed, which it does not, with spirits." "But, Ma'am, did she indeed steal the spoons ?" asked Letty. Poor Jenny! No!-she was falsely accused by Mike Mitchell, a good for nothing fellow, whose addresses she did not favor, and who, angry that she was going next summer to marry William Barry (one of our footmen, now in London, and a nice deserving young man) took the spoons himself, as has been since discovered, and contrived, out of malice, that the blame should be laid upon her. Poor Jane with may tears protested her innocence, but was not believed, every one fancying that she had stolen the spoons for her own use when at housekeeping,—and which conduct, as master and mistress had promised to set them agoing when married, was thought shamefully wicked and ungrateful. Jane was threatened with a search-warrant, and a prison if, within four-and-twenty hours the stolen property was not forth-coming, but before the end of that time, she bad, as Thomas says, disappeared. William himself knows nothing about her, and so we must for the present believe her lost, strange as it sounds to say so. Soon after Freeling was missed, Mike Mitchell, for his wickedness, fell as he was walnut gathering, from a tree, and nearly broke every bone in his skin. It was quite impossible he should live, and when he found himself dying, he sent for my master, and William Berry, and confessing that he had taken the spoons, restored them, saying, it was never his intention to keep them longer than until they had hired a housemaid in Jane's place. This wretched man lived only a few hours after this confession, but his innocent victim alas! if still alive, is necessarily ignorant of the tardy justice he has done her. Poor dear talking of her 'minds me of a favorite song of her's, which I wish she was here to sing, and which she learnt of me; it is said to have been composed by a young lady, who was shut up in a dungeon, or chamber of this Abbey, because she loved a gallant knight, and never allowed by her parents to see him again." Sing it, Dame; sing it," said Thomas, "you mean the song called Bisham Woods," I suppose; and a very pretty one it is." "I'll say it ;” replied the housekeeper: "When first I |