It goes without saying that the cultivation of the Heart should be our first and chiefest care. In perfectly learning and practising the grand old lesson of "doing to others as we would that they should do unto us," we have laid down a solid foundation for all other Culture; and until we have mastered this all other will be comparatively useless. This alone will carry us through the earthly life usefully and well; and it is fortunate that it is so, since with so many of us, the time absolutely demanded for the provision of our bodily wants, leaves but little to be devoted to the Culture of the Intellect, the Taste, and the Imagination. Still, all could do much more for the development of their intellects than is generally accomplished. Nor can it be said that Education— which term seems to have been mainly appropriated to denote intellectual Culture is underrated or neglected at the present day. The one great danger connected therewith, as it seems to me, is that of cramming. Facts and information, the knowledge of languages, and an acquaintance with literature, are all useful material for our minds to work upon or to work with; but we are in danger of forgetting that Education and Culture are both terms signifying the evolution of faculties dormant within us, and that it is quite possible to so overlay those faculties with mountains of book learning as to defeat the very object aimed at. Even where this excessive loading of the memory does not produce an actual mental break-down, it not seldom fails to permanently weaken those faculties which it is professedly the object of intellectual Education to strengthen. So much has, however, been said on this point, and said apparently in vain, that I do not expect to see any real change until time and the palpable development of the evils of the system work a reaction. Of much greater moment than is generally acknowledged I hold to be the Culture of the Imagination; needing, indeed, to be guarded by a careful and contemporaneous Education of the Intellect, but in some respects only second in importance to the Culture of the Heart. At a time when the study of physical science, whilst opening up new fairy lands of its own for the delectation of the imagination, is tending to rob mankind of many a field wherein heretofore the Imagination has loved to roam, there is some danger lest the faculty itself should fail to at once find its proper sphere. In the past, an immense scope has been found for its play in what may be called the border-land of religious thought; an undefined region which, because undefined and incapable of dogmatism, afforded the play which the most original faculty we possess needs and loves. This region the so-called scientific thought of the day has ruthlessly invaded, and, by the warp it has given to the minds of many, has practically made it a closed territory for the time being. When, however, science, having out-grown her juvenile self-importance, shall have learnt to speak in more modest tones and to acknowledge the limits of her sphere, we may hope that she will make amends to us by not only ceasing to trench either directly or indirectly in this direction, but by adding, as I before hinted, new ground in her own special domain. For the present, however, it remains that the set of thought with which her votaries have managed to charge the air, is unfavourable to the action of the imagination, and has taught many to deem its favourite themes as so much childish folly. A vivid imagination exercised on worthy objects is perhaps the greatest joy and blessing man is capable of possessing, as exercised on unworthy objects it is capable of becoming a most debasing influence. Hence its comparative importance. Much that passes for Religion even, is little more than the exercise of the Imagination guided by religious feeling, and to many a mind some tender and holy fancy, nursed by the Imagination into what becomes to its owner a virtual reality, is the strongest and most refining influence which ever enters into his experience of life. In the forming of the all-round characters which we judged to be the true mission of Culture, the Imagination, therefore, is one of the most important factors. A man in whom it is deficient and uncultivated is, on one side of his nature, that which a man who is colour-blind is on another. He is practically deficient of a sense, and that the sense, capable of affording him the greatest pleasure, and aiding him to the loftiest elevation of character. Mankind has yet to learn (so it seems to me) the immense importance of a true Education of this faculty. Of the cultivation of Taste on the one hand, or of the Religious faculty on the other, I do not here propose to speak. Of the first, we are beginning to understand a little-I fear a very little. The second is so important, and at the same time the nucleus of such vast differences of opinion, that it would be temerity in me to propound my individual ideas. It cannot be said that its importance is generally underrated, though, judging by the strange diversities of thought on the subject, it must be conceded that by a large number it is greatly misunderstood. In fine, Culture, in its widest and truest sense, is the cure for all the ills that afflict mankind, since it includes all sides of his nature-physical, intellectual, moral, and religious. In this sense all must admit its supreme importance. It involves neither more nor less than everlasting progress towards perfection. To secure, then, the widest possible Culture for each and all, is that for which we all are bound to join our utmost efforts. SENEX. FROM WINCHESTER TO STONEHENGE. II. "This city hath given place of birth, education, baptism, marriage, michelgemots, gemots, synods, and sepulchre to more kings, queens, princes, dukes, earls, barons, bishops, and mitred prelates, before the year of our Lord, 1239, than all the cities of England together could do."* AFTER Such a flourish let us breathe awhile, let us go to St. Giles's Hill, or still better, take a further walk to St. Catherine's Hill, and view this wonderful city as it lies on the opposite eastern slope. This latter hill is a fair climb, and as we ascend there is one deep fosse and then another near the summit, proving that it was a stronghold of our earliest forefathers, who shall say how long ago? The date lies far down in the strata of time, for there is evidence that hundreds of years before the Christian era a German tribe, the Belgæ, settled here, and called the place Caer Gwent-"The White City." It is the white city now. As I sit in the late afternoon watching its many habitations, white or grey, in the sunshine, gently climbing the verdant slopes; the river Itchen meandering between, now flashing a silvery reflex of the brilliant sky, now widening into lazy pools by the College meadows; there the famous College itself, with its noble Church tower in the foreground; beyond, the stately grandeur of the Cathedral forming a centre to the picture ; below the Guildhall, with its pert and modern prettiness; and above, upon the further slope, the Diocesan College, with the intended Stuart Palace, now one of the largest barracks in the country; here, surrounded by verdant hills, is the beautiful, the once mighty city, where we have ruin without decay, business without bustle, and where an unregretful present looks back upon a glorious past. As I gaze upon the scene, I could hardly wish the city were larger, yet I must recall that seven centuries ago the borders extended in every direction at least a mile beyond their present limits, right up the hills at each side, on the north to Worthy, and on the south beside me to the sweet rural foundation of St. Cross. This was the time of the great fair on St. Giles's Hill, which was the most important one in the kingdom, and which attracted merchants from every part of Europe. The great Bishop Walkelin (whose daring act of cutting down a forest a few years afterwards I have already referred to) obtained a Charter for this fair from William the Conqueror in 1076. During this fair the transaction of business at Southampton, and at every other place within seven leagues of the city, was strictly forbidden, while sergeants-at-arms guarded the * Winchester Ancient City Tables. roads for many miles against the thieves and outlaws who came down like vultures for prey. What strange fluctuations these ancient centres of life and civilisation have experienced! It appears that even in Roman times this place was known for its embroideries, which formed part of the luxury of the Court of Imperial Rome. Then came Egbert; and we have a curious legend of our local hero, Guy, Earl of Warwick, who met Colbrand, the giant champion of the invading Danes, in single combat, in a valley between two opposing armies. Our Guy was, of course, victorious, aided by a friendly crow, who fluttered about Colbrand and furthered his overthrow. The champion dead, the Danes retreated, Athelstan, the Saxon King, watching the action. The whole story looks like the Biblical account of David and Goliath done into English history, the crow being very suggestive of the words of Goliath, "Come to me, and I will give thy flesh unto the fowls of the air."* The city grew amazingly under a system of monopoly and protection. It had a large woollen manufacture, particularly a trade in woollen caps worn by the men of the period. Better was this trade for the citizens even than the presence of royalty, until, in an evil hour, Edward III. conquered part of France, and in 1363, by a caprice of Royal favour, he removed the wool monopoly from Winchester and gave it to Calais. From that year it rapidly declined century by century, until in 1623 Taylor, the water poet, stated that he found the city with almost as many parishes as people, "like a body without a soul." But it has recovered, and I can linger with pleasure on this great hill, watching the evening shadows upon its changing loveliness until I hear the curfew bell, the order for ringing which was first given from the walls of the Castle where the barracks now stand, more than eight hundred years ago-an order obeyed to this day. I am warned to descend, and enter the city. Going up the quaint and respectable High Street we note the City Cross, erected in the reign of Henry VI., restored, and now irreverently called the Butter Cross. We pursue our way till we come to the west gate, a fine bastion, and then, turning to the left up Castle Hill, reach the County Hall, the only remaining portion of Winchester Castle, one of the great fortresses built by William the Conqueror. This fine room, a miniature Westminster Hall, but dark with stained glass, although an enormous dungeon to our modern ideas, is a central point in English history. Here the Parliaments of England sat for over 400 years. At the west end is still the wall of the dais where the King sat, delivered judgment, listened to the debates of his peers and commoners, doubtless looking well to any obstructionists who might arise. Even when out of the Hall the Norman Kings arranged to hear what was going on, for above the dais is a trough or perthisis running through the wall, enabling them from the solar chamber or private apartment to hear any of the discussions. Who shall say the telephone is new? But there is also a minstrels' gallery in this Parliament Hall, so that possibly when the • 1 Samuel, xvii., 44. debates grew tedious, the King might arouse the interest of the faithful members, or kindle their souls with harmony by the moving strains of his private band! What a charming family arrangement this must have been when all went well, though there were gloomy dungeons and sharp swords ready for any breaches of privilege. The last great historic scene in this Hall was one of the saddest. It was the trial of the great Sir Walter Raleigh, the ill-fated "Shepherd of the Ocean," as Spenser styles him, who was sacrificed by James I. to please the Spaniards. The wonder of the place is King Arthur's "Round Table," first exhibited in the time of Henry VI., and probably 600 years old. Dare I doubt its authenticity when Warton, the poet, believed in it, and wrote a sonnet commencing : "Where Venta's Norman Castle still uprears Let us now to College. It is probable that to many a visitor none of the historic associations of the city will have an interest equal to that which centres in the famous foundation of Wykeham. Here was begun the public school system of England, which has existed almost unaltered to the present day. So notable a creation seems to demand a few words respecting the man to whom it was due. William of Wykeham was born in the village of that name not many miles away, and his motto, "Manners makyth man," is supposed to refer to the way in which he rose in the world. At any rate, Edward III., struck by his abilities if not by his manners, took him into his service. He must have had a genius for building, for the King made him surveyor of the Royal Works then the round tower of Windsor was built from his designs. Favours poured upon him, he became Justiciary of the Royal Forests, Keeper of the Great Seal, then Bishop of Winchester, finally Lord High Chancellor of England. But the voice of envy began to speak against him, and even the great Wycliffe seems to satirise him and his early history with a strange bitterness. He hints that he was not "a clerk able and cunning of God's law, but a kitchen clerk, or a penny clerk, or one who is wise in building castles or worldly doing, though he cannot well read the Scriptures." Envy and hatred in time began to tell against William. His government offices were taken from him, he was banished from Court, and probably both these trials were real blessings for him and for posterity. Singularly enough two days before his own death, Edward III. seems to have had misgivings as to the justice of his treatment of Wykeham, for he reversed all the sentences, conditionally on the Bishop (who must have been rich) fitting out three ships of war at his own expense. But William had lost his appetite for Court and for princes' favour, and although he enjoyed the latter during the next reign, he devoted his large fortune and his well-earned leisure to works which refuted the slanders of his enemies. If he were "a kitchen clerk," he founded New College, Oxford, which took a worthy place in what |