BUCKINGHAM IN LEGEND. 27 



I myself have seen it when hunting, and Mr. Noel T. B. 

 Turner's illustration is a good one. 



One of the many stories I have often heard told in part, 

 I was fortunate to find in full in an old manuscript, which 

 came into my possession, collated by " G. Calvert, for M. 

 Stapylton, Esq., 1823." The MS. was finished on the date 

 mentioned by the son Calvert, his father having been engaged 

 in its compilation for many years previously. The character 

 of this particular legend is such that only an excerpt can be 

 given. The collater never imagined that, after a century 

 had passed, his most interesting and equally useful, closely- 

 written volume would fall into the hands of a journalist, and, 

 therefore, he gave plain unvarnished stories as told to him 

 irrespective of their character or the language or incidents 

 they described. The entry runs : — 



A Curious Story. — Near to the Checkers' Inn at Slapestones 

 (Osmotherly) there stood, until a few years ago, the cottage in which 

 there lived many years sen, one Isaac Haw, who in his day did hunt 

 the fox with George Villiers, and many a queer story did he use to tell. 

 Here be one. There lived on the moor not over an hour's ride from 

 Kirbymoorside, one Betty Scaife, who had a daughter Betty, a good-like 

 wench as one could meet in a day's ride. It fell out that on a certain 

 day, George, riding by, did happen for to see young Betty half stript 

 and washing of her arms-and breast. So taken was he with the maiden's 

 charms that he settled there and then to make her his mistress. Finding 

 she was alone, her mother having gone to the town, he made nought 



ado but put up his horse and entered Let that be as it may 



she did come to be his mistress, and for long was so, but she having 

 a dream bade him come no more, she at that time forecasting the very 

 time and death he would die, which did take such hold upon him that 

 he rode away and never saw her again ; and sure all she had dreamt 

 did truly come to pass. Of Haw it be said, the last time that he and 

 the rakeless scamp did ever ride together, George said : " Haw, I do 

 by my soul believe that you would ride to Hell, and inside, too, if 

 Reynard took that way." " I'd ride anywhere you rode, your Grace," 

 said Haw. " Why, then, I'll tell you what," says His Grace, " as thou 

 an' me won't have many years to live together, I challenge, when I am 

 dead and thou art dead, to meet me on this moor, and hunt every time 

 the devil gives us a holiday. What sayest thou ? " And Haw, being 

 a little in drink at the time, agreed it should be so, and then George 

 did vanish from his sight and Haw galloped home. Sobered with fear , 

 knowing it had been a spirit he had ridden alongside of, but at that 



