a privilege, which, though open to grave abuse, must have been a boon to many an unfortunate man in the days when culpable, justifiable, and accidental homicide were not clearly distinguished. Some degree of privilege seems to have been attached to every Church from very early times. And there are frequent entries in

these Rolls to the effect that A.B. fled to the Church of X., confessed his crimes, and abjured the realm in the presence of the Coroner, his property being confiscated to the Crown. But such a proceeding would only be taken by the criminal as a last resource. More fortunate were they who could fly for refuge to one of the great privileged sanctuaries. Of these the most famous and powerful was the Abbey of St. Cuthbert, at Durham. It seems probable that the fugitive who was received into that shelter enjoyed protection for his life and property within the boundaries of the County Palatine, but only in respect of crime committed beyond those boundaries; for no sanctuary could protect one guilty of committing offences within its own precincts. Thus the inhabitant of the County of Durham could obtain from St. Cuthbert no greater privilege than was afforded by an ordinary Church, that of being allowed to abjure the realm and depart over seas; to obtain more than this he must seek sanctuary at one of the other privileged abbeys of the north-Tynemouth, Hexham, Wetheral, Ripon, or Beverley, which possessed similar rights, though within much more confined limits. Once sworn in, with the customary formalities, in the Abbey Church, the fugitive could live at peace within the sanctuary precincts; outside these limits the sentence of outlawry, which was the usual consequence of his flight, exposed his life to private vengeance and his property to licensed depredation.

Life, already no very secure possession in that turbulent age, was further liable to be cut short "per infortunium." Of such accidents drowning was the most frequent, and, of drowning, the upsetting of boats

the most frequent cause. In most cases the bare fact is recorded that A.B. "cecidit de quodam batello et submersit." Sometimes the occasion of the disaster, usually overloading, is added. In all cases, with one exception, the value of the boat and its contents was exacted as a deodand; and it is interesting to note that such value was variously estimated at from two to eight shillings. In the one exceptional case the king was cheated of his due; for the presentment records that the boat belonged to a certain Fleming, who succeeded in escaping with his property before he could be arrested: "ideo nichil de batello."

The curiosity is aroused by the frequency of entries to the effect that A.B. "cecidit de quodam equo in aquam de Tyne," or other stream, "et submersit," a fate which once befell two men, who had been riding together on one horse. It is reasonable to suppose that such accidents were occasioned by rash or careless fording of rivers. The horses are valued at from two shillings to one mark.

Of other accidents there are many which might be amusing if they were not tragic. Frequent mention is made of women or children falling into cauldrons of boiling water and being scalded to death; but an extraordinary instance of misfortune was the case of a woman, who was scalded in a pan of hot water, into which she fell "ex ictu cujusdam vituli."

There are also many curious instances of homicide by mistake or misadventure. One of these is a striking illustration of the old ballad. Richard of Horsley, it is related, was wrestling in sport with John, the Miller of Titlington, when by misadventure his knife fell from its sheath, and wounded the said John, who died of the injury. Richard took fright and fled, but the jury did not accuse him. "Ideo," says the Roll, "redeat si voluerit; set catalla ejus confiscantur pro fuga"; an unprofitable amercement, for, it immediately adds, "catalla ejus nulla."

A fondness for throwing sticks and stones is a quality deeply engrained in human nature; which quality we may illustrate by a few instances which shall be given in the uncouth but forcible language of the original Roll.

"Robertus le Valeys, volens sectare quendam baculum ad canem suum, per infortunium percussit Matildam, uxorem suam, oculo, ita quod per infortunium inde obiit."

"R' Dalli, volens jactare quendam lapidem ad unum porcum, intervenit quidam Elias le Carecter; per infortunium cecidit lapis in capite Eliae, unde obiit."

"Willelmus, filius Walteri de Aldebir, volens jacere baculum ad gallum, ita quod per infortunium percussit quendam puerum in capite, ita quod obiit."

It may be that this last is an instance of the old Shrove Tuesday custom, which was often a source of quarrel as well as of accident, it being an essential point that the cock should be a stolen one. In the records of the Durham Consistory Court there is a story of how a man incurred much trouble and a suit for defamation by remarking that he wished he could "here his coke crowe in their bellies that stole him."

There are many more strange scraps of history to be found in these Rolls. We might tell of the mad parson of Gunnerton, who thrust his head through a house wall, and was mistaken for a burglar and slain accordingly; of the witch (mulier ingnota et sortilega), who assaulted a man because he crossed himself when she saluted him, was killed by him in self-defence, and afterwards burnt "judicio totius clerici"; of the strange doings of medieval volunteer firemen, who beat the flames and sometimes the heads of the bystanders with a stick; of the intricacies of the game of "platepere," and how many fish the constable of Newcastle might demand for a penny. But we must draw the line

somewhere,

R. H. F.

THE HELIX.

ROUND the smooth steepness of the column creeps
Th' entwining helix; coyly, tendrilwise,
In quick encompassments that bravely rise
By little step and turn of measured leaps;
Seeking that dim Beyond where distance keeps
The promises of Here. To far surprise,
Through all the long monotony that lies
Between, happy in hopefulness and peeps
Of promise, see, the gentle helix glides
Gradual and geodesic! Twisted true,

Winding full smoothly with an even slope
Along the pathway to that promised hope,
Itself that journeys is itself that guides,
A subtle serpentine,-the magic screw.

A PROBLEM.

WEARIED of puzzledom I dreamed a dream;
A mocking phantasy, that filled my brain
With a quick fevered fire, a burning pain
That fed on outraged reason.-On a beam,
Mounted on gyrostats at each extreme,
Rested a small icosahedral grain

Of gravitating matter: and the plane,
Raftlike, that floated all, spun down the stream
Giddy with vortex.-Nay! Let me forget
What other horrors crowded on my sight,
Grotesque and gruesome! Seen in light of day
Unlovely, strange and terrible by night,

Such monsters fear not charm nor amulet;

And tempered steel may pierce them through nor slay.

G. T. B.

R

CLUVIENUS: HIS THOUGHTS.

EADERS of the Eagle will gladly welcome Mr Tottenham's collection of fugitive pieces, of which so many have appeared in our columns. We have long felt the need of such a collection. The difficulty of hunting for this or that piece in back numbers (especially if unbound) of the Eagle and Cambridge Review, and the fact that, when the painstaking searcher comes across them, he finds them imbedded in a mass of extraneous matter which tends to obscure their real value, makes it all the more necessary that they should be gathered into convenient book form. This is what has been for some time past required of Mr Tottenham. It is pleasant to have at hand a book which contains the original of many of the best jests quoted in Cambridge to-day and often sadly garbled in the quoting. Such jests, if left between the covers of a magazine, are apt to die in a new generation.

Most of the pieces in this book have a classical origin. The author is happiest on classical ground, and his genius is largely inspired by the Second Book of the Nicomachean Ethics. His applications of Aristotle to ordinary life are delightful. When one reads the enthralling works of that philosopher (even under the guidance of Sir Alexander Grant), it is hard to believe that he is not playing with us: when we read Mr Tottenham's additions to his valuable aphorisms, it is difficult not to imagine that there is some serious purpose concealed beneath the fine veil