480 



JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 



t December 25, I860. 



tain, so that they may be the more easily and complete ly 

 filled by the mixture. Care should be taken not to apply it 

 too hot, otherwise the stitches will stretch or crack, and the 

 shoemaker's work gape — better err in the opposite extreme, 

 for then no harm can result beyond the mixture not sinking in. 

 It may be put on either with a brush or flannel tied on a piece 

 of stick. I have known the soles of a by-no-means-beavy pair 

 of boots take up 4 ozs. of the composition ; they would have 

 absorbed at least an equal weight of water. So much for the 

 modern rapid system of tanning. I have generally not applied 

 the composition to the upper-leathers, as it prevents their 

 being polished for some time, and diminishes their pliability; 

 but those who have to go among wet grass should do so. I 



believe that adding a little carbonate of soda to the composition 

 I when used for the upper-leathers prevents these becoming 

 hard, probably by converting a portion of it into soap, but this 

 I have not tried. After the boots have been some time in -wear 

 they should, when dry, have a fresh dose. 



Another mode of waterproofing boots which I have found 

 even more effectual than the above is to do them over with 

 what is known as pine-varnish, previously warming it ; this, 

 when it can be obtained good, effectually excludes wet; but it is 

 some time before the smell of tar disappears. Where this was 

 not objected to I would use pine-varnish in preference to the 

 rosin and tallow mixture. Both answer well, and will be found 

 to increase the comfort and duration of shoe-leather. — H. W. 



LITTLECOTE, 

 The Residence oe A. H. L. PoruAM, 



Esq. 



Neakly a quarter of a century has passed since a wayfarer 

 was travelling from Hungerford to Ramsbury, and pausing on 

 high ground looked down upon an Elizabethan mansion at the 



foot of the hills on the other side of the valley of the Kennet. 

 It was a dull evening, the shadows were towards the traveller, 

 this rendered more sombre that always sombre-looking mass 



of dark brickwork, and he thought as he resumed his journey, 

 " That's a fitting mansion for a mystery ; " but at the time he 

 knew nothing of its history, nor even its name. 



Years passed and the place had never recurred to his memory, 

 when an occasion arose rendering it desirable to trace the pedi- 

 gree of a Darrel. The traveller was once more at Hungerford, 

 and once more on the road to Ramsbury to search its register, 

 and he then found that the '.' fitting mansion for a mystery " 

 was Littlecote, and until the days of the first James the resi- 

 dence of the Darrels. It came to them by the marriage of 

 William Darrel, Sub-Treasurer of England in Richard the II. 's 

 reign, to Elizabeth, daughter and heiress of Thomas Calgtop, 

 Lord of Littlecote. Those Darrels were an unruly race ; but 

 let us pass over the evidences of this until Henry the VIII. 's 

 time, when Edward Darrel, of Littlecote, was summoned before 

 the King's Council for killing deer in Ramsbury Park, without 

 the permission of its owner, the Bishop of Sarum. That high 

 poacher's son William it was who was more usually known 

 as " Wild Darrel." Nor was the characteristic epithet wrong- 

 fully prefixed. 



In 1585, petitions had been presented to the Council against 



him, and "JohnKeene, late of Littlecott," was examined re- 

 lative to sheep-stealing, and his having been one of a party 

 who kept possession of the Manor of Andviles, by appoint- 

 ment of his master, William Darrell. 



As is usual the career of evil was precipitate, and the local 

 tradition preserves the memory of the final fall. Britton in 

 his '■ Beauties of Wiltshire," tells the tale, but the traveller 

 heard from more than one resident in the vicinity this still- 

 retained tradition. 



Near the close of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, an old 

 midwife residing at Chilton, a village between Ramsbury 

 and Hungerford, was roused at night to attend a lady who 

 needed her midwifery skill. The night was clear and the 

 moon at the full, so that the midwife could discern that the 

 messenger was of gentle blood. He told her that she must be 

 blindfolded and mount on the pillion behind him. The fee 

 proferred prevailed, she submitted to the terms, and the bandage 

 was not removed from her eyes until she was in the bedroom 

 of her patient. That room and its furniture indicated that 

 she was in no mean mansion. The child was born, but no 

 sooner bora than murdered by the same gentleman who had 



