black-letter characters. Doubtful though it is that the table is the actual one that figures in the Arthurian legends, yet it is certainly of great antiquity, and has been frequently referred to by more than one writer of mediaeval days. It has been conjectured that it may be nothing more than the wheel of fortune which Henry III commanded to be made for the castle. In later years another palace was started here by Charles II, the only portion that was completed being now used as barracks.

Beyond the West Gate is an obelisk, set up in commemoration of a visitation of the Plague in 1669, when the country people brought their produce and left it outside the gate to be taken in by the city dwellers, who deposited the money for the goods in bowls of vinegar, whence it was abstracted by pincers, to avoid infection. The stone on which the exchanges were made is incorporated in the base of the obelisk.

The West Gate is the only one that remains of the principal entrances to the city, as King's Gate, with the little church of St. Swithun perched on top, was of secondary importance. This West Gate escaped the fate that has overtaken so many of our old city gates owing to its having been used for some time as a smoking room for the adjacent hotel. This apartment above the crown of the gateway arch is, like that over the West Gate of Canterbury, used for the purposes of a museum, wherein are deposited such interesting relics as the Winchester bushel, cloth measures, and ancient instruments of punishment. At one time the room was used as a prison, and the walls are covered with names or marks made by those who were incarcerated here.

The gate is of fourteenth-century date, the two panels with armorial bearings seen on the western side of the archway being later insertions. Through the gateway a delightful view is obtained of the picturesque High Street, with many a high-pitched gable rising above the masses of irregular architecture; while an ancient clock on a wooden bracket juts out from the old Queen Anne Guildhall, which has a statue of Her Majesty over the entrance, the Curfew Tower rising on one side of the building. A new Guildhall of greater architectural pretensions has been erected in the Broadway, the original one being now used as a shop.

THE BUTTER CROSS

From the West Gate the High Street slopes down to the Itchen. On the right stands the old Butter Cross, in rather a cramped position. Two reasons have been given for its name: one, that during Lent, those wishing to eat butter could do so by consuming it by the cross; the other, and more probable, explanation is that here came farmers wishing to dispose of their butter, which they exposed for sale on the steps of the cross. The structure is of fifteenth-century date, but has been much restored, the only original figure on it being that of St. Amphibalus. Just beside the cross is the interesting little opening that leads into the Close, and in which is the entrance to St. Lawrence Church, of which nothing is visible from this point but the doorway, and the tower rising above the surrounding houses. This church has been said to be the Mother Church of the diocese of Winchester, an idea that may have owed its origin to the fact that before proceeding to the Cathedral to be enthroned the bishops designate enter this ancient church to robe and "ring themselves in". Only the other day, May 6, 1911, Dr. Talbot followed this old custom, and the people listened eagerly for the number of rings, as these are supposed to denote the number of years the bishop will be at the head of the diocese. It may be of interest to chronicle that Dr. Talbot rang nine times.

Near the church at one time was an open space called the Square, where were situated the Pillory and Whipping Post. The palace of William I is said to have occupied this site, and St. Lawrence's Church may possibly have been the private chapel of the royal residence. A fragment of Norman masonry gives a certain amount of probability to the supposition, while at the beginning of last century some workmen excavating in Market Street came across the foundations of an ancient tower, of great thickness and strength. The present arched and narrow entrance from High Street leads to the fine avenue of limes that forms the principal approach to the west front of the Cathedral, begun by Edington circa 1360, the severe simplicity of which has been much criticized, Ruskin assailing it furiously in the Stones of Venice. On the apex of the gable is a canopied niche containing a statue of Wykeham.

The present edifice is thought to stand approximately on the site of the earlier Saxon church restored by Ethelwold in 980, in which Queen Emma underwent the "fiery ordeal" by walking blindfold and barefooted over nine red-hot plough-shares, thus proving her innocence of the charges brought against her, and furnishing her accusers with an example of what female chastity is able to accomplish. The main portion of the structure as seen to-day was begun by Bishop Walkelin about 1079, and completed some fourteen years later. It is the longest of English churches, measuring externally 566 feet, and internally 562½ feet, being a few feet longer than St. Alban's, which has the same plan; although we must remember that when the nave of Winchester terminated at the west in two large towers the whole mass was 40 feet longer than at present.

The vista of the whole block of masonry, with its stumpy tower and heavily buttressed walls, conveys the idea of immense strength rather than of gracefulness; while its situation at the bottom of a hill, and near the bank of the river, is one of great charm.

It is when the nave is entered that the full beauty and vast proportions of the Norman church are revealed, for this is in essence a Norman building encased with Perpendicular details and additions. As Wykeham's alterations were merely added to the original piers, the stateliness of the whole remains. Full credit, of course, must be given to Wykeham for the wonderful skill he showed in this work of transformation, and in removing the heavy triforium, although the grandeur of the nave as a whole is due to the combined work of Walkelin and Wykeham. This alteration of styles in the nave was begun by Edington, continued by Wykeham, and completed by his successors in the see—Cardinal Beaufort and Bishop Waynflete—who built the stone vaulting of the roof. The tower at the intersection of the transepts is the second of its kind, the first, built by Walkelin, having fallen in 1107, owing, says tradition, to the wicked Red King having been buried beneath it. Of its rebuilding there are no records.

So many detailed architectural histories of the building have appeared that its principal features must be familiar to every lover of our national architecture. There are, however, one or two features about this cathedral that should be noted. Apart from its great length, which is greater than any church in the world, with the exception of St. Peter's at Rome, it is remarkable for its parclose screens, with the mortuary chests upon them; and for the beauty and number of its chantries, in which it is richer than any other English cathedral. They are said to have been saved from destruction during the Civil War by the Parliamentary colonel, Fiennes, an old Wykehamist; and certain historians describe the dramatic incident of the colonel standing with drawn sword to protect the chantry of the founder of his Alma Mater from the iconoclastic tendencies of his troopers. The chantries number seven, and were built as chapels by bishops for their last resting-places. Within these chantries are the tombs of Edington, Wykeham, Waynflete, Beaufort, Gardiner, Langton, and Fox, all of whom were bishops of the diocese. Fox's chantry was carefully restored by Corpus Christi College, Oxford; and that of Waynflete by