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manded a troop at the battle of Edgehill, was created the first Lord Byron of Rochdale and Newstead, October 24, 1643, and fought against Cromwell at the battle of Preston in 1648. So great had been his zeal in the cause of the Crown, that he was one of the seven specially debarred from the clemency of the Government by the Act of Oblivion passed by Parliament on the execution of Charles the First, and died in exile, 1652. This same Lord Byron also defended the City of Chester; and is thus mentioned by Thomas Baines, in his History of Lancashire and Cheshire, 504-506: "The unfortunate king was a personal witness of the defeat of this his last army from one of the loftiest points of the walls of Chester, and, on retiring in the direction of Denbigh, he informed Lord Byron that if after eight days he saw no possibility of relief the garrison should treat for their own preservation. But neither days nor weeks nor months brought the slightest prospect of relief, and still the brave garrison held the city; and the history of the siege of Chester, from the month of September, 1644, to the surrender of the city in January, 1646, is a record of the firm and unconquerable endurance of all the evils and miseries that can be sustained by any besieged city." George Chetham, the elder brother, after his retirement from business, lived at Clayton Hall until the time of his death in 1627, leaving his estates to Humphrey, his younger brother. It does not appear that Humphrey made it his home for some time after the death of George; but it was here he lived during the time his name appears so prominently in the records of the county. Here, too, he died on October 12th, 1653, at the age of seventy-three." By his will, which is dated December 16th, 1651, he bequeathed the sum of £7,500 for the foundation and endowment of a hospital for the maintenance and education of forty poor boys for ever. The hall, as the photographs exhibited showed, is still surrounded by a moat, which encloses about two acres of land. Outside the moat, and crossing what is now the Ashton turnpike road, was an enclosed "fold" of about four acres, which encompassed three large outbuildings. One of these was called the Oat Barn. Another was the Great Barn; and Hollingworth stated, on the authority of tradition, that part of it was built from timber removed from the Old Church, when it was transformed from a stone into a wooden building. This barn, a massive and picturesque structure, was destroyed by fire in 1852. The third building, originally called the Wheat Barn, is still standing. The Oat Barn, the subject of the communication, formed for many years one of the outhouses to the Green's Arms Hotel, and had at the time of its removal been devoted to purposes 'very different to the storing of grain. The antiquity and external beauty of the building had been spoiled by being repaired with brickwork inserted in the sides, after the manner of old patchwork. Originally `

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it was built entirely of wood of extraordinary strength, the roof being supported by six sets of massive principals or crooks, each pair being cut from one oak tree, and placed so as to form a Gothic arch. It is doubtful whether Hollingworth's tradition was right as to these timbers coming from the Old Church, but of their great age there can be no question. Not a nail was to be found in the structure, the whole having been put together by the aid of mortices and oak pegs. Mr. John Harland, on a visit to the hall about thirty years since, took an impression on paper of the inscription which runs round the outer edge of the bell, which, being translated, reads:-"I expect (or wait for) better things." The bell is said to be one of four which were taken from the old parish church of St. Mary's, and placed in the domestic chapel at the hall. This chapel was removed in the early part of the last century, and the bell is now hung in a belfry on the front of the hall. St. Mary's and St. Michael's were the only two churches standing in Manchester at the Doomsday Survey in 1081; so that, if it be correct that these barns were portions of St. Mary's, the age of the timber must be over 800 years. The Clayton estate is now owned by the Hoare family, of London, and the hall is the residence of the Rev. W. H. Burns, rector of the new Church which stands immediately opposite the hall. Nothing remains in the neighbourhood to commemorate the family which gives it interest and importance, except a sign over the door of an inn, with a portrait of careworn aspect, under which is written in large type the name of Humphrey Chetham.



[Abstract of Paper read April 1, 1878.]

The subject of my paper is an obscure incident in the life of an individual. An individual, however, who was not simply an illustrious man and a distinguished scholar, but one who, if we cannot claim for him transcendent genius, was at least the possessor of extraordinary gifts, whose inextinguishable brilliance has continued to bless and enlighten the world whilst institutions have crumbled, forms of government become effete, and creeds resolved themselves into words. Every incident in the life of such a man is interesting; his impressions of social customs that have disappeared, and his topographical hints—even when relating to out-ofthe-way corners where the passions of man or the weird hand of time have wrought changes unrecorded by the historian, and respecting which even tradition is silent-are not unworthy of investigation.


Kings, emperors, and popes vied with one another to attach Erasmus to their persons and their courts. He was equally at home in any part of the papal commonwealth, in which educated men had a common language as well as a common literature. But England was the land that he most loved, and which, after his return from Italy in 1511, he resolved to make his permanent home, his own passion for learning being here shared by many who recognized in him "the rising star of European literature."

For religious controversy Erasmus had little sympathy. His whole soul was in letters. Of this fact it would be easy to multiply illustrations; but one may suffice. The taking of Rome by the Constable Bourbon, with all its unspeakable horrors, culminating in the imprisonment of the Pope, elicit from the monk, the friend of five popes, and the champion of "the august unity of the Church," the lament that Sadolet's Library-rem sacratissimam— has perished! It would, however, be unjust to Erasmus to assume that the Christian was forgotten in the scholar. Rather the scholar sought the advancement of true religion by the cncouragement of learning. Naturally the Universities attracted him; but, whether at Cambridge or at Oxford, whether mingling study with amusement in the congenial society of More at Chelsea, or spending his learned leisure with Colet at Canterbury, or with Robert Aldridge at Walsingham, he was always studying and embalming the fruits of his observation and learning in that pure and classical Latin which commanded the admiration or excited the envy of every scholar. The necessity of seeking relief from excessive toil led him to make occasional excursions into the country, his recollections of which are preserved in his inimitable Colloquies. And thus it happened that the scholar, the great apostle of common sense and of rational religion, the fierce denunciator of superstition and of the monks, himself became a pilgrim; and with his young friend Robert Aldridge visited the far-famed shrine of the Virgin, at Walsingham.

The fact of this visit has been called in question. This is mainly attributable to the alleged inaccurate description of the place by Erasmus, who, in his letter to Ammonius, calls it Parathalassus, describing it as situated "at the extreme coast of England, on the north-west." This has so far misled commentators that an attempt has been made to fix the residence of "Virgo Parathalassia" at St. Mawes, near Falmouth, whilst Fosbroke, the historian of British Monachism, wholly discredits the narrative of Erasmus, which he regards as a mere imitation of the Pilgrimages of Loretto. Mr. Drummond and other modern commentators have altogether given up the second visit to Walsingham, assuming that in describing it Erasmus drew upon his imagination.

The little town of Walsingham, so famous in the fifteenth century, so little known in the nineteenth, is situated about seven

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