Yorkshire. Accordingly, as the story runs, he got John Hodgson, then schoolmaster at Kilburn, to act as architect. The preliminaries all arranged, he engaged thirty-two of his old schoolmates to carry out the design, and with such zest did they fall to that in a day and a half the turf had been removed, and the great horse outlined on the cliff's face. Six tons of lime were employed in the original coating process. The successful completion of the task was celebrated by a memorable supper on the night of November 4, 1857.

The road from the Hambleton Hotel zigzags down the hill past the shoeless feet of this unatomizable horse. Having crossed a waste field, which was largely overstrewn with lime washed off the animal's limbs by winter's rains, I began to scale his nerveless flank, sometimes on all-fours. I at last reached his one cyclopean green eye, in which I could see nothing of a pupil, iris, or crystalline lens, neither was there in the centre a cup filled with aqueous or vitreous humour. This eye is simply formed by a circular plot of ground large enough to accommodate the unlucky number of thirteen men quite comfortably, for it is little less than thirty-two feet in circumference. I sat down thereon, and meditated the rich and diversified prospect before me. It was really too widespread to comprehend, and the objects too multifarious to describe. Away to the left was Ryedale, with its remains of the sequestered Abbey of Rievaulx, overlooked by the Ionian temple and the beautiful green terrace; also the princely demesne of Duncombe Park, with Helmsley's grey castle. Embosomed in the landscape were the massive Edwardian keep of Gilling Castle, once the home of the Fairfaxes, the Benedic. tine College at Ampleforth, the ivy-clad ruin of Byland Abbey, the sweet, classic village of Coxwold, and Newburgh Priory, with its grassy glades and clustering groves, beloved now by princes as it was formerly by monks. Overlooking the Forest of Galtres and the Plain of York was Crayke Castle on its conical hill; and beneath the distant Howardian Hills, which rise up from the York plain, lay the skeleton of the old feudal castle at Sheriff Hutton, while on their summit stood the palatial pile of Castle Howard.

Viewed from a distance, the horse suggests magnitude, though few beholders would be able to approximate his dimensions. When one sits or stands on him, no shape whatever can be detected in his whity-yellow figure. In rainy weather the colour is almost brown, and any stranger seeing him at such a time might be inclined to ask why he was not called the Bay Horse. A peculiarity of the object, as seen from a distance in dry weather, is its apparent whiteness, when, as geologists know, the soil of these hills is dark red. Neare

at hand, the horse is at ordinary times of a faint yellow, the colour being in the lime, some six tons of which were employed in the original dressing. The measurement of the one green eye I have already given, and stated that thirteen men might comfortably sit on it. From the ears to the root of the bushy tail this animal is said to measure 108 feet, while the height from feet to shoulders is given as 80 feet; but others who are supposed to have taken measurements say the first one should be 108 yards, and the latter 86 yards, and the width of the forelegs below each knee 8 feet. The ears, which are banked up some 3 feet behind, measure about 10 feet from root to tip. The whole profile of the white horse covers three roods of ground; to fence him round would enclose two acres.

Seen from Kilburn below the figure does credit to its designer; although there is a sense of proportion rather than symmetry about it. It does not quite come up to a Landseer. The neck and back are "scraggy," the chest is "bulgy," the forefeet are thrust far backward, the head is "wooden" and tapir-like. But the head is by everybody acknowledged to be the weak spot. It is not so clearly visible as the other parts of the animal, owing to the fact that the upper part of the ground at that point falls back, though some years ago the defect was partially remedied by raising the ground artificially. The tail and hinder legs are, perhaps, the best part of this animal's physical frame, and these are really excellent.

It has been said that Mr. Thomas Taylor, the originator, left the interest of £100 to keep this colossal equine figure well-defined. Since his death in Australia seven-and-twenty years ago, the white horse has been maintained by local farmers and a few subscriptions. Sir George O. Wombwell, of Newburgh Priory, being a large landowner in this district, has naturally been interested in the matter; and-I smile as I say it-the Ecclesiastical Commissioners, as lords of Kilburn, have allowed £1 annually. The animal has been groomed annually, and received a fresh jacket of lime triennially. But on July 26, 1895, the Hambleton Plain was visited by probably the severest hailstorm on record. Hailstones, declared to be as big as cannon-balls, came down with pitiless persistency, making terrible havoc among the growing crops. How was it possible for the white horse to escape, without a stable anywhere at hand for him? Whole tons of stones and soil were washed out of his breast and one or two of his legs, leaving furrows several feet deep. From Kilburn he soon appeared to be set on mere skeleton or spindle shanks, and an outcry was raised that he stood in danger of total obliteration. But the Hambleton Hill folk think a good deal of their Bucephalus-a joint

stock possession-and soon had him restored to a normal condition, worthy of his reputation, and as proud as ever in his new coat of lime. This work was carried out in the July of 1896, as the result of a special appeal by the late Jonah Bolton, then proprietor of the Foresters' Arms at Low Kilburn, who was the local steward for the Ecclesiastical Commissioners, assisted by Mr. Robert Long, of the Three Tuns Hotel at Thirsk, and Press friends from Thirsk.

The largest Diamond Jubilee bonfire in the Thirsk district was the beacon provided by Mr. J. Vasey, of Low Moor House, Hambleton, and erected on the top of Roulston Scar. The pile reached a height of over 40 ft., in its centre being an entire larch tree 32 ft. high, and rooted to a depth of 2 ft. It did not burn freely until eleven o'clock, by which time it was visible to the south at Byland Abbey, Newburgh Priory, Coxwold, and as far as York. As on the night of the 1887 Jubilee, there was a beacon lighted also on the brow opposite the White Mare's Crag, about a mile to the north of the Roulston Scar beacon. For the first half-hour it burned brilliantly, and, along with its neighbour, was more or less visible throughout the Vale of Mowbray, Ryedale, from the sea-coast in the vicinity of Whitby, and as far as Craven, Whernside, and the whole of the western Yorkshire hills.

The White Horse of Berkshire appears to be even more colossal than this of Yorkshire. He is said to be 170 yards long, the ear 15 yards long, the eye 4 feet across. He may be seen sixteen miles off. The outlines of the figure are really deep ditches in the soil, kept clean and free from grass by the countryfolk, who take great pride in their animal. When the time comes round to clean out the ditches, picnics are made to the spot, and the children revel in their rustic games around the noble pet. Who originated him is probably no longer known. He is very old now.

HARWOOD BRIERLEY.

TABLE TALK.

FIRST PERFORMANCE OF A PLAY OF ELIZABETHAN TIMES. Tis a curious experience for a modern public to witness the first performance of a dramatic masterpiece of Tudor or Stuart times. Such has, however, been afforded a select company which, at the invitation of the Bishop of London and Mrs. Creighton, assembled on a summer afternoon at Fulham Palace to witness an outdoor presentation of Ben Jonson's "Sad Shepherd." This was given by the Elizabethan Stage Society, a body which, under distinguished patronage and competent direction, has set itself the task of reviving upon the stage the masterpieces of the Elizabethan drama. More than one successful venture in this direction has been made without inducing me to draw specially my readers' attention to the proceedings of what is only to a certain extent a public institution. The present occasion is, in its way, unique, and is likely, it may be supposed, to remain so. It seems accordingly to call for some kind of comment. Pastoral plays have been before now revived and presented under sufficiently charming conditions. I have personally witnessed representations of "As You Like It," "The Faithful Shepherdess," and other pieces of the class, amidst the most divinely rural scenery in England. The Elizabethan Stage Society meanwhile has chosen for its venture rather indoor spots, but such as, like the halls of the Inns of Court, the Mansion House, the hall of the Goldsmiths' Company, &c., have been more or less closely associated in Shakespearean times with the presentation of masque and Court revel.

A

THE ELIZABETHAN STAGE SOCIETY.

MONG the many pieces given by the Elizabethan Stage Society during its progress and development are unfamiliar plays by Shakespeare, including even the first quarto of "Hamlet" and other works that could never have been put before the modern public except by the action of a society of the class. At the St. George's Hall have been presented "The Broken Heart" of Ford and "The Spanish Gipsy" of Middleton and Rowley, neither of them having been previously witnessed since the resumption of stage plays after the Stuart Restoration. To the former of these revivals Mr. Swinburne contributed a prologue, as he did for a previous performance of Marlowe's "Faustus." "Measure for Measure," "The Two

Gentlemen of Verona," "Love's Labour Lost," "Twelfth Night," the "Comedy of Errors," and the "Duchess of Malfi" have been acted or read. Yet one more experiment of interest comes to us in the performance of a portion of the grimly realistic play of "Arden of Feversham," in which Shakespeare is held by some to have had a hand; and an episode from Edward III., in which his hand can be infallibly traced. These works were for the most part prepared under happy if not ideal conditions, with a company which, if not highly trained, was at least respectable. Costumes, it is boasted, have been minutely accurate, and no pains have been spared in the attempt to secure a good mise-en-scène. Tudor music has been given on the instruments of the epoch, and dancing and sword play have been arranged by the recognised authorities.

JONSON'S "SAD SHEPHERD."

N declaring the performance of the "Sad Shepherd" to be the most interesting yet attempted, I was partly animated, as one is apt to be, by the enjoyment I personally derived from the occasion. I was unfamiliar with Fulham Palace, in the quadrangle of which edifice the representation took place. I contemplated for the first time its interesting, if not particularly noble, architecture and its superb surroundings. The experience was agreeable, and to see the Tudor life and the medieval representations of England produced under the shadows and, to some extent, among the glades of the picturesque spot was an experience as pleasant as it was novel. If these reasons fail to impress, I have at least the right to fall back upon the fact that the presentation was, as I have said, the first that has ever been given. Jonson's "Sad Shepherd " is but a considerable fragment-three acts out of five of a play-and was never finished by the author, though in the following century Waldron, an editor, like myself, of the "Roscius Anglicanus," completed the story in what I am told is very creditable fashion. I myself have not seen Waldron's version, which, however, has met with the praise of Professor Dowden and other authorities. That the piece has not previously been seen on the stage is indubitable, and the date of its composition remains still in doubt. In spite of the beauty of lyrics such as "Drink to me only" and "See the chariot at hand," which are included in almost all English anthologies, and the exquisite grace of one or two of his epitaphs, Jonson's reputation as a lyrical poet is overshadowed by that as a dramatist. He possesses a rugged rigour of versification unparalleled even in Marston and Chapman. It is as a satirist, a painter of character, and a depicter of "humours" that he is chiefly remembered. Incomplete as it is, the "Sad Shepherd" establishes the fact that he