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THE FOLLOWING IS A LIST OF PRINCE CHARLES'S OFICERS AND MEN

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Ogilvie.. Lord Ogilvie,

Glenbucket, Gordon of Glenbucket,

Perth. Duke of Perth (and Pitsligo's foot,)

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Robertson, Robertson of Strowan,

Maclachlan, Maclachlan of Maclachlan,

Glencarnick, Macgregor,

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Glengary, Macdonald of Glengary, junior,

Nairn,

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Lorn Nairn,

Edinburgh, John Roy Stewart, (and Lord Kelly's)

In several small corps,

[Lord Elcho,

Horse,

Lord Kilmarnock.

Lord Pitsligo's horse,

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Total,

7587

To the Editor of the "Patrician."

SIR-I am a subscriber to your interesting journal, the "Patrician." and from your known research in matters of Antiquity, Genealogy, &c., I feel I am applying to the most likely quarter for a satisfactory answer to a question lately several times mooted before me, and one which I have taken much trouble to reply to

What was THE AGE of Cromwell's mother when she died, or the date of HER BIRTH?

She died, as you know, during the Protectorate, and was buried with pomp in Westminster Abbey. Was she disinterred at the restoration? if so, is there any record of the inscription on her tomb? for, if disinterred, I presume the tomb may have been destroyed.

I shall look with interest to your two or three next numbers for some notice of my request, and in the mean time, am, Sir, yours obediently, CROMWELLIAN.

Kew Park, Nov. 29th, 1847.

[We publish this letter in the hope that some of our readers may kindly favour us with the particulars " Cromwellian" seeks.]

THE LANDS OF ENGLAND.

Sodbury, co. Gloucester.

To the antiquary, the Christian, and the lover of the picturesque, Sodbury presents objects of peculiar interest.

A Roman camp of great magnitude-the Manor House where Tyndale translated the New Testament-the church in which he constantly preached -and scenery unrivalled in beauty, extent of prospect, and agricultural richness; produce associations, elsewhere rarely to be found.

There are three places contiguous bearing this name: Old Sodbury, Chipping Sodbury, the market town, and Little Sodbury, in which stands the old Manor House. Winchcombe Henry Howard Hartley, Esq., is the present Lord of the Manor, and possesses about four thousand acres in the three parishes.

Sodbury derives its name from the camp on the summit of the hill, meaning literally, the South camp, in distinction to the camp called the Castles, at Horton, a mile northward, Bury being the Saxon for camp, and Sod generally used for south. This seems to be one of the encampments that Tacitus mentions,* formed by the Proprætor, P. Ostorius, to protect this side of the Severn from the incursions of the Silures, or Welsh, and the camp occupies a most commanding position. The only entrance to it is on the east, between two ditches, and two aggera, or mounds, that surround it on three sides, but on the west it has but one ditch, and one agger, the ground there being so steep as to have been deemed inaccessible. The length from north to south is about nine hundred feet, its breadth three hundred. The view is most extensive; the course of the Severn is perceived for many miles, and at certain seasons, the sea itself is discovered glittering beneath the rays of the golden sun, whilst the long line of coast, on the Welsh side, melts away in the haze of the distant horizon; so comprehensive is the prospect over the vale of Gloucester, that no large body of men could advance from Wales unperceived by the camp of the Legions. This position was occupied by Queen Margaret, and afterwards by Edward the Fourth, previous to the fatal battle of Tewksbury: indeed, some fighting took place in the vicinity, and several of Edward's army were taken prisoners. A few Roman coins have been found near. Descending the hill, a quarter of a mile distant, we find

LITTLE SODBURY MANOR HOUSE,

one of the oldest private residences in England. Built at different periods (a great part as far back as the fourteenth century), its antique

* Tacitus, Lib. 12, Sect. 31 and 32.

gable, fine old porch, festooned with luxuriant creepers, and its elegantly carved oriel window, make it an object of peculiar interest. Sir John and Lady Walsh* resided here at the beginning of the sixteenth century, and engaged the learned William Tyndale as tutor to their children. Tyndale had just finished his University education, and his mind seems before this period to have been deeply impressed with the solemn truths contained in this sacred volume. Now, Sir John having been Henry the Eighth's champion and especial favorite (indeed, the Manor was given him by that monarch), his society was much courted by the abbots and dignified ecclesiastics of the county, who frequently partook of the worthy knight's hospitality. The vaulted roof of the fine old dining-hall still remains as in the days of yore, when lordly bishops, belted knights, and beauteous ladies, with their dependants and retainers, feasted here, and the walls rung with mirth and merriment. The conversation at these entertainments frequently turning on religious subjects, Tyndale was often drawn into discussions with the clergy, who, in general, opposed and resisted his eloquence and piety.

Still, though persecuted, opposed, and calumniated by a powerful hierachy, and a despotic monarch thirsting for his life, did this undaunted man persevere, till having triumphed over every obstacle, the plan formed within the walls of Sodbury, was completed; and the resolution, uttered in this old Hall, was fulfilled! A distant age still regards with astonishment the stupendous changes that have taken place in the framework of society, by giving to Englishmen the Bible in the vernacular tongue.

In the year 1556, a tremendous storm visited this place, and while Maurice Walsh (Sir John's eldest son, and the pupil of Tyndale) with his seven children were at dinner, the lightning entered the room at the door, and passing through to the opposite window killed one child on the spot, whilst the other six, with their unhappy father, were so dreadfully injured, that they all died within two months.

In the reign of James the First, Thomas Stephens, Esq., an eminent lawyer, and Attorney-General to the King's sons, the Princes Henry and Charles, purchased the Manor and estates of the Walshes. Thomas was

the third son of Edward Stephens, Esq., of Eastington. The family of Stephens is of ancient standing in Gloucestershire, having been settled there more than 700 years. Ralph and William, two brothers, were jointly High-Sheriffs in the reign of Henry the Second; and William was HighSheriff alone from the twenty-second year of that monarch's reign to the first year of Richard Cœur de Lion-having thus filled the office for thirteen successive years. This Thomas Stephens must have been extremely wealthy, probably, through his marriage with a rich London heiress, who was the mother of his three sons, Edward, John, and Na

*Lady Walsh was the daughter of Sir Robert Poyntz, of Iron Acton, a neighbouring village. The family of Poyntz is very ancient; they are descended from Drago de Ponz, who came to England with William the Conqueror, and for nearly 600 years were settled at Iron Acton. By the death of William Stephen Poyntz, Esq., of Cowdray Park, and Midgham, the family is now become extinct in the male line, Mr. Poyntz's two sons having been unfortunately drowned; his daughters are married into the noble families of Clinton, Spencer, and Exeter; and his sisters were married to brothers, the present Earl of Cork, and the late Admiral Sir Courtney Boyle. It seems highly probable that the Poyntz, who so long protected Tyndale, and whose disinterested attachment to the martyr had very nearly involved him also in death and ruin, was of the same family.

VOL. V.NO. XXI.

F

thaniel. To Edward he left the Manor and estates of Sodbury; for John, he purchased a large estate at Lypiat; and to Nathaniel he gave Cherington. Thus his sons became ancestors to three distinct branches of the family of Stephens. There is at Lye Grove House, the residence of his descendant, Mr. Hartley, an uncommonly fine portrait, by Vansomer, of this eminent man; he is represented in his robes of sable, holding in the right hand a roll of parchment. For splendour of colouring, and masterly execution, this painting is equal to the portraits of Rubensindeed, it has often been mistaken for that master.

Sir Thomas Stephens, Kt., grandson of the above, was High-Sheriff 1644 and 1671. He obtained a grant from Charles the Second, empowering him to make a park at Lye Grove, a part of this domain. Of the park, enclosed and planted by Stephens, nothing now remains but the wall, a copse of enormous beech trees, and an avenue leading to the House, of perhaps the largest ash trees in the kingdom. Mr. Hartley possesses the draft of the original grant, and it is not a little strange, that the frail paper, which empowered the enclosure, should have survived the noble park it called into existence.

Edward Stephens, Esq., was the last of the name who resided here, dying in 1728; the domain passed by heirship to the Packers,* an ancient Berkshire family.

Now, courteous reader, do not think me too prolix if I relate an anecdote of this last Stephens. Pephaps, when gliding along in some luxurious railway carriage, at the rate of forty miles an hour, thou mayst smile at the snail-like pace of our forefathers only a century ago. Mr. Stephens and his lady, (who, by the way, was a great heiress) having been on a visit at Bristol, which is about fourteen miles distant, left that place one morning early to return to their country seat. The lady, rustling in all the majesty of hoop and satins, sat magnificently ensconced in the lumbering vehicle drawn by six horses. Stephens, whose patience had doubtless been tried on former occasions, preferred a walk home across the fields, to the stately trot of such a semi-triumphal procession. On reaching the manor-house he is somewhat surprised to find that the lady had not yet arrived; he returns towards Bristol in quest of the cavalcade, but gains no tidings thereof until he arrived at Pucklechurch, about half way. There, to his great joy and astonishment, he finds "Madam in the booby-hutch," (as he called the coach) sitting indeed like "Patience on a monument." They had been stopped by sundry breakages, and the state of the roads, almost impassable in those days, but had happily got thus far when the vehicle unfortunately foundered in an unlucky mud-bank, from whence it was obliged to be literally dug out before they could proceed on their journey!

The manor-house had not been inhabited (excepting the part used as a farm) for forty years. The present Mr. Hartley was anxious to reside here, and had it surveyed, wishing, if possible, to restore it; but it was

The celebrated Dr. Hartley, author of the admirable "Essay on Man," by his marriage with the only surviving child of R. Packer, Esq., of Donnington Castle, became possessed of Sodbury, as well as of the large property at Bucklebury, in Berkshire, originally Sir H. Wynchcombe's and the Viscountess Bolingbroke's, Sir Henry's daughter. Thus, for 120 years, these three fine estates have been united; they comprise together about 12,000 acres, and are, in point of picturesque beauty, inferior to none in the kingdom.

found on examination, that neglect and damp had so accelerated the work of decay, that the intention of restoring it was necessarily abandoned. Picturesque as is undoubtedly the situation as a dwelling-house, it is, however, singularly inconvenient; for, being built-nestled as it were— -against the side of a precipitous hill, most of the basement-floor rooms had one side under ground; the kitchen is actually on the floor above the parlours, -and what modern cook would endure the idea of serving dinner down in an apartment below stairs? The great dining-hall is on one side fifteen feet below the ground, consequently, damp as a cellar. The old library had the same objection, whilst several of the bedrooms were on the same level as the field. Some of the oldest buildings were necessarily obliged to be removed, the walls being so much out of the perpendicular that they must have fallen. Tyndale's chamber was in this part—it was adorned with curious carvings in the Tudor style. Mr. Hartley has caused every fragment, every vestige of the illustrious man to be preserved, and intends placing them in a noble room now being erected at Lye Grove, which is to bear the martyr's name. There, in a ceiling blazoned with purple and scarlet, and glittering with gold, amongst the effigies of the great and the wealthy, appear conspicuous the name and armorial bearings of the persecuted exile-the martyred Tyndale!

But the lengthening shadows admonish us to leave these venerable remains, and again ascend the hill, if we would visit, before nightfall, an object whose associations are even more hallowed-the little

Church of St. Adeline.

Two enormous yew trees protect the entrance, behind whose dark-green foliage the setting sun, now almost touching the horizon, is darting his last rays in one expansive flood of golden light. Apart from all higher considerations, the little church seen from the hill above-its tiny tower and whitened walls relieved by an extensive and most beautiful distance of softened blue-presents an epitome of rural beauty seen no where else but in verdant, in luxuriant England; but the associations connected with the spot kindle emotions of a deeper, a more sublime kind. These yew trees shading the hallowed portal are the largest I ever saw, and tradition (generally correct) assigns to them a duration of eight hundred years. Those luxuriant and far-spreading boughs shaded the illustrious Tyndale, when he entered this humble edifice to pour forth that heavenly eloquence Foxe speaks of, "which was a comfort to the audience who heard him." Were those noble old trees endowed with memory and speech, what tales could they unfold of the families that sought this rural shrine, whom the flood of time has long since swept away! Where are the Despencers-the Walshes the Stephens's? Where the learned Hartley, and Mary his accomplished daughter? How important the moral that these melancholy boughs unfold-a child could have crushed them in their infancy, but they have survived the wreck of generations of the noble, the rich, and the poor, all

"Creatures of clay, vain dwellers in the dust,
A moth survives you."

What recollections are here excited of the feudal, the Catholic, and the

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