has been removed from the churchyard to its present site. Like those at Whalley and Dewsbury, this Saxon relic is supposed to commemorate the preaching of Paulinus, the first Christian missionary in these parts, about the year 597. The cross has been of large size, and from what remains, it may be inferred that it has been bound by simple fillets, terminating at the apex in a spiral form. Dr Whitaker is inclined to attach considerable weight to the above supposition, from the fact, that a neighbouring field retains the name of "Bishop Leap." The tradition is, that prior to the foundation of any church in Burnley, religious rites were celebrated on the spot where this ancient cross now stands, and that Paulinus baptized his converts in the River Brun. Upon the attempt being made to erect an oratory, the materials were nightly removed by supernatural agents, in the form of pigs, to where St Peter's Church now stands. This popular opinion probably owes its origin to an ancient mural tablet, or escutcheon, yet remaining on the south side of the steeple. Its principal charge bears some resemblance to a pig; but was probably originally intended to represent the Paschal Lamb, since it appears to be surrounded by rude representations of the instruments of the Passion. A similar charge is also sculptured on the old font.

CLAYTON HALL AND KERSAL CELL.

FURTHER down the same by-lane (from the moor) that contains Kersal Hall, stands Kersal Cell, the retreat of "Dr" Byrom in the middle of the last century. It is a snug substantial residence, reminding us of Hawthorne's "House of Seven Gables." In the "Doctor's" time,

it would be all that a poet could desire. In fixing here his hermitage, hundreds of years ago, its original recluse, Sir Hugh le Biron, showed taste as well as sanctity. He was no "friar of orders grey," no monk of the fraternity of Black Penitents; but a stalwart knight, once owner of Clayton Hall and Kersal Cell; both of which mansions have since become linked with nobler though untitled names. Tradition asserts that Sir Hugh left Clayton Hall for the Holy Land, with an esquire bearing his shield, and a hundred stout followers in his train. As the knight and retainers marched away, his lady prettily waved her handkerchief from the tower or turret of Clayton Hall. Arrived at the Holy Land, Le Biron dealt out his deadly blows with no niggardly measure, spreading dismay through the ranks of the enemy. Wherever an infidel's head was visible, there also was the arm of Sir Hugh, ready to cleave it in twain. At length his conscience became troubled, and he began to doubt the righteousness of his righteous cause. The ghosts of those slain by his valour rose in vast numbers before his distempered vision; the wailing of widows and the weeping of orphans, seemed to haunt him wheresoever he went, until he was glad to escape from the land thus rendered unholy, and turn his steps towards the English home from which he had been too long estranged. As he passed slowly up his own avenue he met a funeral train, bearing the remains of his lady to her final resting-place, there, as the tomb-stone sweetly expresses it, to "sleep in Jesus." Year after year she had pined for her absent lord, gradually sinking, the victim of "hope deferred." This blow severed the last link that bound Le Biron to the world, and he retreated from its turmoil to that solitude of Kersal Cell. Here, a "hermit lone," he alternately prayed and wan

dered, climbing the picturesque heights of Kersal, or the wooded ways of Prestwich-until death, remembering the repentant warrior, removed him to the peaceful grave.-Procter's "Our Turf, Stage, and Ring."

THE CLEGG HALL TRAGEDY.

CLEGG HALL, about two miles N.E. from Rochdale, stands on the only estate within the parish of Whalley which still continues in the local family name. On this site was the old house built by Bernulf de Clegg and Quenilda his wife as early as the reign of Stephen. Not a vestige of it remains. The present comparatively modern erection was built by Theophilus Ashton, of Rochdale, a lawyer, and one of the Ashtons of Little Clegg, about the year 1620. After many changes of occupants, it is now in part used as a country alehouse; other portions are inhabited by the labouring classes, who find employment in that populous manufacturing district. It is the property of the Fentons, by purchase from the late John Entwisle, Esq., of Foxholes. Clegg Hall, or rather what was once the site of that ancient house, tradition points through the dim vista of past ages as the scene of an unnatural and cruel tragedy. It was in the square, low, dark mansion, built in the reign of Stephen, that this crime is said to have been perpetrated, one of those half-timbered houses, called post-and-petrel, having huge main timbers, crooks, &c., the interstices being wattled and filled with a compost of clay and chopped straw. Of this rude and primitive architecture were the houses of the English gentry in former ages. Here, then, was that horrible deed perpetrated

Το

which gave rise to the stories yet extant relating to the "Clegg Hall boggarts." The prevailing tradition is not exact as to the date of its occurrence; but it is said that some time about the thirteenth or fourteenth century, a tragedy resembling that of the babes in the wood was perpetrated here. A wicked uncle destroyed the lawful heirs of Clegg Hall and estates-two orphan children that were left to his care-by throwing them over a balcony into the moat, in order that he might seize on their inheritance. Ever afterwards-so the story goes-the house was the reputed haunt of a troubled and angry spirit, until means were taken for its removal, or rather expulsion. Of course, this "boggart" could not be the manes of the murdered children, or it would have been seen as a plurality of spirits; but was, in all likelihood, the wretched ghost of the ruffianly relative, whose double crime would not let him rest in the peace of the grave. Even after the original house was almost wholly pulled down, and that of A.D. 1620 erected on its site, the "boggart" still haunted the ancient spot, and its occasional visitations were the source of the great alarm and annoyance to which the inmates were subjected. From these slight materials, Mr Roby has woven one of those fictions, full of romantic incident, which have rendered his "Traditions of Lancashire" * so famous. We have taken such

* It is only just to state that the story of “Clegg Hall Boggart" was communicated to Mr Roby by Mr William Nuttall, of Roch dale, author of "Le Voyageur," and the composer of a ballad on the tradition. In this ballad, entitled "Sir Roland and Clegg Hall Boggart," Mr Nuttall makes Sir Roland murder the children in bed with a dagger. Remorse eventually drove him mad, and he died raving during a violent storm. The Hall was ever after haunted by the children's ghosts, and also by demons, till St Antonea (St Anthony), with a relic from the Virgin's shrine, exorcised and laid the evil spirits.

facts only as seem really traditionary, recommending the lovers of the marvellous to the work just cited for a very entertaining tale on this subject.

In a curious MS. volume, now the property of Charles Clay, Esq., M.D., of Manchester, Mr Nuttall states that "many ridiculous tales were told of 'the two boggarts [so that they were the ghosts of the children] of Clegg Hall,' by the country people. At one time, they unceasingly importuned a pious monk in the neighbourhood to exorcise or lay the ghosts,' to which request. he consented. Having provided himself with a variety of charms and spells, he boldly entered on his undertaking, and in a few hours brought the ghosts to a parley. They demanded, as the condition of future quiet [the sacrifice of] a body and a soul. The spectators (who could not see the ghosts), on being informed of their desire, were petrified, none being willing to become the victim. The cunning monk told the tremblers, 'Bring me the body of a cock and the sole of a shoe.' This being done, the spirits were forbidden to 'revisit the pale glimpses of the moon' till the whole of the sacrifice was consumed. Thus ended the first laying of the Clegg Hall boggarts. But, in later times, it was conceived that the sacrifice must have been wholly consumed, and, consequently, that the two boggarts had full liberty to walk again; and hence the revival of the tradition and superstition." Another ballad by Mr Nuttall, entitled, "Rolfe and Quenilda," has Clegg Hall for its scene.

DILDRUM, KING OF THE CATS.

THE following tradition is often heard in South Lancashire-A gentleman was one evening sitting cosily in