Osborne; but the castle was rebuilt in the reign of Henry I., and probably most of the older parts of the present remains are of that time. The grand gateway, represented in our engraving, (Cut, No. 10,) was erected in the reign of Edward IV., by Lord Woodville, whose arms are sculptured upon the front. Woodville sold the castle to the king, and it has ever since remained an appanage to the crown. It was repaired by Elizabeth, who built the outer walls and the gateway outside the bridge, and also some domestic offices yet remaining, and now used as the residence of the keeper. The defensive part of the castle was permitted to go to ruin after the Restoration, though it was used for some time longer as a state-prison.

the huge treadwheel, which he anon begins to turnas curs in days of yore turned spits-whereby the bucket is lowered and drawn up again: which feat being accomplished, Jacob very soberly walks out again. This well has from time out of mind served the castle with water, and still serves it-and, as the visitor will find if he tastes it, serves it well. The same method of drawing the water has always been in practice; and the drawers have lived long in the exercise of their vocation. Fame tells of one who drew water here for fifty odd years, and might perchance have drawn as many more; but becoming weary of so long treading the same dull round, he threw himself from the ramparts. The books, and the gentle guide, do indeed say that the ancient drawer fell over the ramparts by accident-but who will credit that of a donkey? His successor was not of quite such Macrobian habit, but he lived to enjoy for some thirty years a pension of a penny loaf a day conferred on him by an ass-loving governor.

The walls of the castle enclose an area of about twenty acres; and the whole is surrounded by a broad moat, long since drained. The entrance from the road is by Queen Elizabeth's Gate, a not unpicturesque little building in its present mouldering state, with the dark green ivy climbing over it; but the grand entrance is Woodville's Gateway, on the other side of the bridge. Before leaving the castle you are shown the chapel ; This is the finest feature left of the old castle. The but it is much more modern than any other part of the gateway is strengthened by a portcullis and bold ma-building, having been erected by George II. on the chicolations, and flanked by round towers of noble proportions: it is altogether a very handsome specimen of its class of architecture. On passing through it, the person who shows the castle calls your attention to some ruinous walls on your left hand as the prison wherein Charles was confined: the window, still preserved, is said to be that from which he attempted to escape. You are then directed to the 'Saxon' keep, and left to ascend, if you please," the wearisome but necessary height." There are said to be some seventyodd steps to this steep flight,' which leads to the keep, and there are some more from thence to the parapet. But no one will complain who ascends them. The prospect would be worth climbing for were there no steps to assist the ascent: it embraces as wide a range of country as the summit of Mountjoy, and is perhaps more varied. The view of the lower valley of the Medina is not comparable to that from Mountjoy; but those on the south, over the rich undulations of cultivated and wooded country, are much finer. The ramparts also afford very pleasing views; and on Wednesday evenings in summer, when the band of the regiment stationed at Parkhurst plays in the meadow below, they form a favourite promenade for the Newport fair.

One of the most curious things in the castle is the well, which is above 300 feet deep. The visitor is shown into the well-house, and while he is noticing the singular appearance of the room, one side of which is occupied by an enormous wooden wheel-a small lamp is lighted; and after being told to mark the time that elapses before a glass of water that is thrown down strikes against the bottom of the well, the lamp is lowered by means of a small windlass, making, as he watches its descent, a circle of light continually lessening till the lamp is seen to float on the surface of the water at a depth that makes him almost dizzy. A grave old ass is then introduced who quietly walks into

site of a very old one that had become unserviceable, and it has nothing remarkable in its appearance. In it the Mayor of Newport used to be sworn in upon entering on office and on the annual renewal of his term: but the present mayor, being a Dissenter, chose to display his independency by refusing to conform to the established order of things, and the point having been yielded by the Governor it will no doubt fall into abeyance-as a good many better and some worse customs have fallen. The village of Carisbrooke is built along the side of an eminence, which is separated from the castle hill by a narrow dell, through which flows a small streamlet. Carisbrooke is a pretty rustic village, but showing few signs, apart from the castle and the church, of its antiquity. The church is still large and handsome, but it was once much larger-the chancel and one of the aisles having been pulled down to save the cost of repairing them. The tower, which has an enriched turret and pinnacles, is the most elaborate and handsomest, and it contains the most musical peal of bells in the island. The church, with several other of the island churches, formerly belonged to the Cistercian Priory, which was founded here by Fitz-Osborne, and so it remained till the spoliation of religious houses by the dragon "To whom houses and churches were but geese and turkeys"-when the church was made parochial and the priory tithes leased for a yearly rent of 200 marks. The only fragment left of the priory is an ivy-covered gate. Carisbrooke Castle has a majestic appearance from these lower grounds; the village too, with its church, looks very picturesque ; but they should be seen in combination from the neighbouring fields, when they display a union of grandeur and picturesqueness that is exceedingly impressive.

The country around Carisbrooke is very lovely. There are delicious green lanes where the trees interlace over head and form an exquisite roof to the

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informal avenue; there are again lone farm-houses to Appuldurcombe, but there is little choice between shadowed by lofty spreading elms, and environed by them. Godshill is in any case the mark to aim at: broad tilths of wheat; little playful brooks running it is a curious unformed place. The church is set up wild among the alder-spotted meadows; and downy heights with wide-spread prospects; and shadowy copses peopled only by the merry song-birds. You might roam about here for weeks and not exhaust the affluence of gentle pastoral loveliness.

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on the top of a broken hill, upon whose rough sides the houses are scrambling. The inhabitants tell the old story, common to so many of these hill churches, how the building was commenced in the valley, but the emissaries of the evil one undid at night all that was accomplished in the day; and how, at last, it was only suffered to be erected on condition of its being placed on this rugged hill-top, out of the reach of the old, the feeble, and the indolent. Such traditions as we said are common, but then they have the three essentials of a perfect tradition, and therefore we do not question this at most we only venture to hint that there was a strange want of tact in a certain quarter. "The tower lights all the country round," at once a guide and a monitor. It was wiser done at Hollington (see vol. i. 286) to insist on the church being built in a lonely hollow, and then causing a thick wood to spring up and hide it—where "out of sight out of mind." By the way, if the tradition be authentic, is not the name a misnomer?-ought it not rather to bear a far less euphonious title than that of Godshill? Or was it so named on the same principle as names are sometimes given in the mining districts, where, if there be a fellow of unmatchable ugliness, he is sure to be called Beauty?

Something of this loveliness may be seen by varying the homeward route a little. Take any of the narrow lanes at the back of the castle, that for example which leads to Watergate, and you have some new feature of beauty opening upon you at every turn. The lanes will display those irregular avenues we spoke of. At Watergate there is the pretty brook, with the few scattered houses about it. A little farther and you come upon Marwell Copse, the very striking entrance to which, as the shades of evening are casting their sombre tone over it, might tempt a Salvator's pencil; while on the other side, as you look back into the copse you see the road dropping down a dell overarched by a dark mass of tangled trees and leading to a gleam of sunlit foliage that seems to illumine the whole picture. Marwell Copse is worth a visit though we have never seen it mentioned. But the stranger should proceed to Gatcombe, whose park is famous and deservedly so. On all sides is an intermingling of whatever is beautiful in park scenery, although, excepting the trees, on a small scale. The But whoever caused the church to be placed where little church stands in a pretty part of the park, half it stands did a benefit to the scenery of the neighburied among massy foliage. The Parsonage, wear-bourhood, and deserves a good word therefore—if only ing a charming air of "refined rusticity," is placed by a little lake not far from it. A water-mill, too, fixed on a picturesque bend of the Medina, is included within the pale. The mansion is modern and stately. Gatcombe village, too, is a study for a painter.

And all round Gatcombe the leisurely traveller may find lanes and passages of quiet rural verdant landscape, such as only England can show, and only its more favoured spots can show in perfection. Especially as he wanders about here will he find himself involuntarily staying to admire the uncommon gracefulness of form and rich full foliage of the trees. The soil is fitting, the climate mild and balmy, and their growth is answerable. Then they stand in an ample space, and are left unclipped by the pruning-knife of science, and they send out their free arms with that buoyant vigour only seen in such circumstances. Many of them are as grand and symmetrical in form as any Claude ever painted, and they have a free sweeping play of branches and spray such as he never had a glimpse of. As they stand alone or in a grove on a grassy slope, or beside a dark pond, or a glancing streamlet, they make pictures that the eye cannot choose but rest upon.

Gatcombe may be taken on the route to Appuldurcombe, which must be visited from Newport, if it were not seen when at Shanklin or Ventnor. We may mention here that the interior of the mansion can only be seen by tickets, which must have been previously obtained at Newport. There are two or three ways

upon the principle of giving "every one his due." To many a charming spot around the fine old tower gives a graceful finish, and it serves to render the humble village one of the most picturesque in the island. The church itself is rather a superior one: it is partly of the decorated period, and partly perpendicular; and in addition to its architectural value, it contains a long series of monuments of the Worsley family—one of the oldest and most distinguished families in the island, and who for a long series of years were the lords of Appuldurcombe. Many of these monuments are interesting as specimens of the art, or as affording examples of the costume of their respective periods. Another monument of the Worsley's, which the village possesses, is a free grammar-school, which Sir Richard Worsley founded and endowed for its benefit in 1614.

Appuldurcombe is little more than a mile from Godshill. The mansion stands in the midst of an extensive park, and both house and park are considered to be among the most attractive of the island lions. Appuldurcombe House was begun in 1710, by Sir Robert Worsley; but remained unfinished until the succession of his grandson, Richard, to the title and estates. It is a large square building, with projecting wings to the principal front. The style is the so-called classic which prevailed in the last century, and the general effect is stately and imposing. The hall and principal apartments are of handsome proportions, and it is altogether an eminently splendid pile. But the chief attraction

is the collection of pictures, statues, and antiquities, so famous as the Worsley Museum. The most interesting, perhaps, of the pictures, are the historical portraits, many of which have been in the possession of the family for a very long period; some, as the portraits of Henry VIII., Edward VI., Mary, and Elizabeth, having been presented to them by those sovereigns. The bassirelievi, statues, gems, and other antiquities, were collected by Sir Richard Worsley, at a vast expense, during a tour made for the purpose in Italy and the Levant. The collection was, at the time it was made, considered to be one of the finest in England. Sir Richard, with the assistance of the younger Visconti, the celebrated Italian antiquary and writer on art, drew up a full description of his collection, which was published in two folio volumes in 1794-1803, under the title of Musæum Worsleianum:' the descriptions are in English and Italian, and it is largely illustrated with engravings. The preparation of this work, which was one of the most splendid that had then issued from the English press, cost Sir Richard, it is said, upwards of £27,000. Very few copies of it were printed, and it is now one of the 'rare' books of the bibliopolists. The collection itself, as will be supposed, noble as it is, is chiefly interesting to the classic scholar and the archæologist; and requires more careful examination than is possible in the hasty survey of a show-house.' But it is worth seeing, though it can only be seen cursorily-and the house and park ought to be visited.

might have leaped from one end of it to the other without touching the ground. But it is now circumscribed within very much narrower limits, and the whole of the ancient timber has been long felled: it now is most unforest-like in its appearance, being in good part a heathy tract of waste land, and its wood mere brushwood. This is one of the tracts that was enforested by the Conqueror, and was a favourite hunting-ground of the Norman Nimrod. There are some rather pretty heathy spots about, with some good prospects from them; but it is hardly a place the stranger will care to linger over, though he will enjoy the sharp sea-breeze on a clear morning. He may turn aside to look at or examine the House of Industry and the Reformatory, if he pleases. Crossing the forest, he will pass through the copse by White House, and then by some wooded lanes, past Clamerkins, keeping the river on his right, to Newtown. This Newtown river we have mentioned before; and here we shall only add, that it is very curiously broken into several branches, all of which are tidal, and at their confluence form a wide estuary. The decayed old Newtown and this estuary, or even the separate branches, are certainly worth visiting, and this is a good way of reaching them. Having satisfied himself with them, and examined if he pleases the salt-ponds, or salterns, he should proceed to Shalfleet, a curious rude village with a remarkable church. This odd-looking edifice is in part, at least, of Norman date, and has some undecipherable (or as The park deserves its celebrity. It is very extensive, the phrase goes symbolic) sculpture about it. The for the island, and the ground is considerably diversi- tower is Norman, of rude construction, and has the fied, and there are noble views over the wide glades. singular characteristic of being wider than the nave to Oak, elm, and beech trees, of stately size abound; the which it is attached. There are some noticeable Norman plantations are well arranged, and it is well stocked carvings about it, as well as the doorways. There are with deer the park and the house are, in short, on a other peculiarities about it, and it is altogether perhaps correspondent style of grandeur. On the most elevated the most singular church in the island. On the way spot in the park a column, seventy feet high, has been are two or three scattered hamlets, as well as some erected to the memory of Sir Richard Worsley, and is outlying farm-houses, that might be spoken of as notea conspicuous object for many miles in every direction. worthy, were it necessary. Calbourne is quite a specimen Sir Richard Worsley, among many other obligations of a secluded country village: it lies out of any main which he conferred on the island, completed and pub-road, and seems to have altogether escaped the notice of lished the History of the Isle of Wight,' which his grandfather had commenced but left, like the house, unfinished. The History' is in every sense a heavy work; but the large collection of materials it contains must be the basis of every succeeding history. Sir Richard Worsley was Governor of the Island, and held some other honourable employments. Appuldurcombe is no longer the property of a Worsley, the name is now extinct; and the property has passed by marriage to the Earls of Yarborough, whose seat it now is.

We have hardly space to indicate any more of the pleasant jaunts from Newport. We may select, as one that will very well illustrate the nature of the quiet out-of-the-way districts that are to be found in these parts that lie away from the ordinary routes, a stroll to Newtown by way of Parkhurst Forest, returning by Calbourne. Parkhurst Forest was once a Royal hunting forest of some four thousand acres area, and so thickly wooded that, according to the popular saying, a squirrel

the 'progress' people. It is no more modern than it was
a quarter of a century ago-which is something difficult
to say of a country village now.
Calbourne is a very
tolerable example of a village church of the early English
period: it has a strong stern look, as though it might
be made a temporary place of refuge for the villagers
in case of sudden attack by marauders. The windows
in the body of the church are the narrow lancet; the
walls are strong, and the whole not easily assailable:
while the tower is still more grim-looking, and stronger
evidently the keep of the temporary castle.
cottages are as primitive as the church; and as the
whole is screened by magnificent trees, from almost
every field around, you have a new picture. Somewhat
further is Swainstone, a charming neighbourhood, full.
of good trees, golden corn-fields,-everywhere the sub-
stantial signs of a rich, fertile, and well-tilled soil.
There are some roads about Swainstone, along which
lofty elms are ranged, forming delicious shady avenues,

The