behalf. He threw down his gauntlet, however, with becoming manhood, and showed as much horsemanship as the crowd of knights and squires around him would permit to be exhibited. On the whole, this striking part of the exhibition somewhat disappointed me, for I would have had the champion less embarrassed by his assistants, and at liberty to put his horse on the grand pas; and yet the young lord of Scrivelsby looked and behaved extremely well.' Haydon the painter describes Wellington, Howard, and the champion standing in full view as the finest sight of the day: The herald read the challenge; the glove was thrown down; they then all proceeded to the throne.' Sir Henry Dymoke was the seventeenth of his family who inherited the ancient office of champion. Sir Henry also officiated as champion at the coronation of William IV. and our present Most Gracious Sovereign; but the ceremonial was then shorn of its ancient chivalric state.

Sir Henry Dymoke was created a baronet in 1841. He died 28th April 1865, when the baronetcy became extinct; and the estate of Scrivelsby and the office of champion passed to his only brother, the Rev. John Dymoke, rector of Scrivelsby and Roughton, Lincolnshire, now the Honourable the Queen's Champion.

One gentleman, a scion of the house of Dymoke in the female line, Edmund Lionel Welles, Esq. of Grebby Hall, county Lincoln, has, since the death of the baronet, assumed, by royal licence, the additional surname and arms of Dymoke; no doubt in the contemplation of the

championship, in failure of male issue, being one day granted to him or his descendants.

The greater part of Scrivelsby Court, the ancient baronial seat, was destroyed by fire towards the close of the last century. In the portion consumed was a very large hall, ornamented with panels, exhibiting in heraldic emblazonment the various arms and alliances of the family through all its numerous and far-traced descents. The loss, says Sir Bernard Burke, has been in some degree compensated by the addition made to the remnant which escaped the flames; but the grandeur of the original edifice can no longer be traced.

The annexed version of an old Anglo-Norman ballad describes with perspicuity and truth the transmission of the lands of Scrivelsby :

'The Norman Barons Marmyon

At Norman Court held high degree;
Knights and champions every one,
To him who won broad Scrivelsby.

Those Lincoln lands the Conqueror gave,
That England's glove they should convey,
To knight renowned amongst the brave,
The Baron bold of Fonteney.

The royal grants, through sire to son,
Devolved direct in capite

Until deceased Phil Marmyon,

When rose fair Joan of Scrivelsby.

From London City on the Thames,
To Berwick Town upon the Tweed,
Came gallants all of courtly names,
At feet of Joan their suit to plead.

Yet, maugre, all this goodly band,

The maiden's smiles young Ludlow won, Her heart and hand, her grant and land, The sword and shield of Marmyon.

Out upon Time, the scurvy knave,
Spoiler of youth, hard-hearted churl;
Hurrying to one common grave,

Good wife and ladie-hind and earl.

Out on Time-since the world began,
No Sabbath hath his greyhound limb,
In coursing man―devoted man,

To age and death-out, out on him.

In Lincoln's chancel, side by side,
Their effigies from marble hewn :
The anni written when they died,
Repose De Ludlow and Dame Joan.

One daughter fair, survived alone,
One son deceased in infancy;
De Ludlow and De Marmyon,
United thus in Margery.

And she was woo'd as maids have been,
And won as maids are sure to be,
When gallant youths in Lincoln green,
Do suit, like Dymoke, fervently.

Sir John de Dymoke claim'd of right
The Championship through Margery,
And 'gainst Sir Baldwin Freville, knight,
Prevail'd as Lord of Scrivelsby.

And ever since, when England's kings
Are diadem'd-no matter where,
The Champion Dymoke boldly flings

His glove, should treason venture there.

On gallant steed, in armour bright,

His visor closed, and couched his lance,
Proclaimeth he the monarch's right

To England, Ireland, Wales, and France.

Then bravely cry, with Dymoke bold,
Long may the king triumphant reign!
And when fair hands the sceptre hold,

More bravely still-Long live the Queen!' 1

1 Burke's Visitations of Seats and Arms, vol. i. pp. 188, 189.

BRADGATE AND LADY JANE GREY.

This was thy home, then, gentle Jane!
This thy green solitude; and here,
At evening, from thy gleaming pane,
Thine eye oft watch'd the dappled deer,
While the soft sun was in its wane,

Browsing beneath the brooklet clear.
The brook runs still, the sun sets now,
The deer yet browseth; where art thou?'

N the most sequestered part of the county of
Leicester, deserted and solitary, backed by rude

eminences, and skirted by romantic and lowly valleys, are the remains of Bradgate, the birthplace and abode of the beauteous Lady Jane Grey, the accomplished but unfortunate daughter of the House of Suffolk. The approach to this spot from the little village of Cropston is strikingly suggestive, On the left is a group of venerable trees, at the extremity of which are the remains of the magnificent mansion of the Greys of Groby. A winding troutstream washes the walls of the edifice, until it reaches the fertile meadow of Swithland. The beautiful vale of Newtown adds to the romantic loveliness of the scene; and in