with some of the best families of their times. The present church, then the family chapel, had rows of monumental brasses, and altar-tombs, all memorials of the Fyndernes.

Of the Fynderne flowers,' and the poetic tradition which. connects them with the Fyndernes, Sir Bernard Burke thus touchingly writes in his Vicissitudes of Families:

'In 1850 a pedigree research caused me to pay a visit to the village. I sought for the ancient hall. Not a stone remained to tell where it had stood! I entered the church. Not a single record of a Finderne was there! I accosted a villager, hoping to glean some stray traditions of the Findernes. "Findernes !" said he; 66 we have no Findernes here, but we have something that once belonged to them: we have Findernes' flowers." "Show me them," I replied. And the old man led me into a field which still retained faint traces of terraces and foundations. "There," said he, pointing to a bank of "garden flowers grown wild,” “there are the Findernes' flowers, brought by Sir Geoffrey from the Holy Land; and do what we will, they will never die!" Poetry mingles more with our daily life than we are apt to acknowledge; and even to an antiquary like myself, the old man's prose and the subject of it were the very essence of poetry.

'For more than three hundred years the Fyndernes had been extinct, the mansion they had dwelt in had crumbled

the Duke of Norfolk's intrigues. She listened to his proposals of marriage as the only means of obtaining her liberty, declaring herself otherwise averse to further matrimonial connections.

into dust, the brass and marble intended to perpetuate the name had passed away, and a little tiny flower had for ages preserved a name and a memory which the elaborate works of man had failed to rescue from oblivion. The moral of the incident is as beautiful as the poetry. We often talk of "the language of flowers;" but of the eloquence of flowers we never had such a striking example as that presented in these flowers of Fynderne:

"Time, Time, his withering hand hath laid

On battlement and tower;

And where rich banners were displayed,
Now only waves a flower."

This tradition, which has given inspiration to more than one poet, is very general among the villagers. It is said that the flowers brought from the Holy Land, and planted there by the hands of the Crusader himself, can never die. This belief has, I regret to say, had a sad check in the circumstance to which I have alluded, as related to me by many of the inhabitants of the village. A former tenant of the field where they grew the flowers I have seen were the narcissus, but other kinds also bloomed there-dug them up wherever seen, and removed them to his garden, where they died away. Their memory, however, will never die.'

THE GOLDSMITH OF LEEDS:

A TRAGIC TALE.

HE mace or civic sceptre of the Leeds Corporation has a very curious historical association. It bears an engraved inscription, which states that it was made by a goldsmith of the name of Maingee: 'Arthur Maingee de Leeds fecit.' This revered emblem of municipal loyalty was made in 1694, and the goldsmith who made it was hanged for high treason two years afterwards. The circumstances of his trial and execution are very extraordinary. Mr. Maingee was arraigned at the summer assizes held at York, in 1696, before the Lord Chief-Justice. Turton. The charge was for high treason, in counterfeiting the lawful coin of the realm. The chief witness against Maingee was an approver of the name of George Norcross, a supposed accomplice. The late Mr. Norrison. Scatcherd, of Morley, has left us a long detailed account of this trial in manuscript. From this document it would appear that the prosecution was conducted as much by the Chief-Justice who tried the case, as by the counsel for

the Crown. Norcross proved that he was employed by Maingee as a clipper at 5s. a-day, and that he saw him not only clip the sheets of base metal into the size and form of the intended shilling or half-crown, with shears, but that he also saw him stamp it on both sides by striking it heavily with a forge hammer, on a balk in the roof of his house, in a secret chamber. This witness was supported in his statement by a man and woman whose stories were very incoherent. In summing up, his Lordship concluded thus: Gentlemen, if you believe what has been proved against Mr. Maingee to be true, you are to find him guilty. But, on the contrary, if you believe what Maingee and his witnesses tell you, and discredit the evidence for the king, you are to find him not guilty. But as far as I see, gentlemen, it appears otherwise. Still it is not I, but you, whɔ must be his judges in this case. I have no more to say to you, gentlemen.' Most persons will agree in thinking that his Lordship had said quite enough. The jury, of course, under such direction brought in a verdict of guilty, and Maingee was sentenced the same evening (26th August) to be drawn on a hurdle to the common place of execution, and there to be hanged as a traitor. Urgent applications. were made in Maingee's behalf to the Government, and he was actually twice reprieved. But in the end the ChiefJustice's influence prevailed, and the unfortunate jeweller was executed on the 3d of October following. Norcross then accused Alderman Ibbetson, Mr. Blayds, Mr. Totty, Mr. Walker, and several other respectable burgesses, of

being concerned in this extensive system of coining base money, and selling clippings to Maingee. But in these cases his testimony was unsupported and discredited, and the bills were thrown out by the grand jury. After this break-down Norcross disappeared from Leeds. It was reasonably supposed that Maingee was most unjustly convicted upon such disreputable testimony, especially as he made a solemn asseveration of his innocence, after receiving the sacrament on the morning of his execution. At the same time he entirely exonerated those fellow-citizens who were included in the same accusation by Norcross. Maingee, in fact, was universally considered a murdered man, if not a martyr.

Now comes a curious sequel to this tragic story. It happened that it became necessary to pull down Maingee's old house in Briggate in 1832, just 136 years after his execution. The site of this house is at present occupied by three new houses, a few doors below Kirkgate, nearly opposite to Green and Buck's, the grocers. Well, in stripping off the roof of this old house, the workmen came upon a small secret chamber; and on the floor of this chamber they found these two pairs of shears or clippers, these being the very tools with which Norcross swore Maingee and himself used to clip the coins. Here we have two dumb witnesses brought forward after this long lapse of time to corroborate the discredited evidence of this approver of infamous reputation. How very fortunate for the worthy Alderman Ibbetson, Messrs. Blayds, Totty, Walker, and Co.,