ture in the centre, surrounded by lofty trees, and partially illumined by the setting orb, was alike solemn and picturesque. The architecture was of the most finished style of the age, and the interior of the building such as to impress upon the mind, ideas of a very solemn and religious kind.

Sir Egbert and his companions passed beneath the western arch, whilst the Quire chaunted a hymn, whose tones, sweeping through the long-drawn isles and fretted shrines, seemed to breathe the holy accents of piety and fortitude. The enthusiasm which these strains were calculated to inspire, was felt by every individual, and their effect was still further heightened by the sombre and obscure tinting of the building, every now and then broken in upon by flashes of the deepest coloured rays, which, daiting through the stained glass and tracery of the windows, threw upon the pavement and every object in their passage, the most splendid and gorgeous hues.

The procession had now reached the chancel, whose roof, fretted with the most deli

cate art, appeared like a web of embroidery, whilst the banners of the mighty dead distinguished chieftains of the order, were seen suspended on its clustered columns. Here, kneeling at the altar, Sir Egbert implored the protection of Heaven, vowing, should success attend his arduous enterprise, to erect a choral shrine with daily dirges, over the sepulchre of those who had fallen in the same attempt.

To this sacred engagement were added the petitionary prayers of the Templars, on the close of which the choristers burst forth into songs of gratitude and praise. The melody rose clear, rich and full upon the ear, and diffused itself through the whole compass of the pile. The last notes had died away, and the company had risen to depart, when suddenly a burst of the most brilliant lightening flashed along the gloom, and, to their utter astonishment, the strains they had so lately listened to, seemed again to issue from a distant part of the chapel. They were tones of celestial sweetness, and excited, in every breast, the emotions of rapture and hope. Sir Egbert and the Knights prostrated them

selves with awe and reverence, and with feelings, which led them to predict the ap proaching ruin of De Weldon.

The voices were now heard remotely, like the faint vibrations of an Eolian Harp, and a transient gleam of purple light seemed to announce the departure of these viewless Beings. A silence the most profound ensued, and many moments elapsed before any person presumed to interrupt it by a single accent. At length the venerable Master, on whose countenance still sate the mingled expression of wonder and delight, addressed his noble guest, declaring, that after what he had just witnessed, he must pronounce him favoured by Heaven, and destined, in all probability, to achieve, what had hitherto foiled the most intrepid warriors.

Sir Egbert, who felt a confidence the most soothing, bowed with modesty and respect, observing, that as the sun was now sinking beneath the horizon, he presumed the hour appointed for the trial had nearly arrived. The Templars acquiesced, and mounting their horses, which, together with their re

tinue and Sir Egbert's, had been previously ordered to the chapel, proceeded on their rout to the Tower. The clarions sounded their approach, and the manly figure of Sir Egbert, clothed in sable armour, his white plume waving to the wind, and tinged with the farewel crimson of the setting sun, formed an object alike beautiful and terrific.

A lowering atmosphere, however, immediately succeeded the departure of this glorious luminary, and sometime before the procession had reached the castle, distant coruscations of lightning, and the low muttering of thunder, foretold a coming storm. This had risen to much violence, ere the knights, crossing the Medway, drew near the grand entrance which adjoins the north-east angle of Gundulph's Tower.* Having passed

This tower is quadrangular, and its angles nearly correspond with the four cardinal points of the compass. It is about seventy feet square at the base; the outside of the walls are built inclining inward, somewhat from a perpendicular, and are in general twelve feet thick.

Adjoining to the east angle of this tower, is a small one, about two-thirds the height of the large tower, and about twenty-eight feet square. The grand entrance was

the draw-bridge, which secures this gate, they ascended a noble flight of steps, through

into this small tower by a noble flight of steps eight feet wide, through an arched gateway, about six feet by ten; the arch is adorned with curious fret-work. For the greater security of this entrance, there was a draw-bridge, under which was the common entrance into the lower apartments of the great tower. These lower apartments were two, and must have been dark and gloomy. They are divided by a partition wall five feet thick, which par tition is continued to the top, so that the rooms were twenty-one by forty-six feet on each floor. In the lower part of the walls are several narrow openings, intended for the benefit of the light and air: there are also arches in the partition wall, by which one room communicated with the other. These apartments seem to have been designed for store-rooms.

In the partition wall, in the centre of the building, is a well two feet nine inches in diameter, neatly wrought in the walls, which well ascends through all the stories to the top of the tower, and has a communication with every floor.

On the north-east side within the tower is a small arched door-way, through which is a descent by steps into a vault under the small tower: here seems to have been the prison and melancholy abode of the state criminals, confined in this fortress.

From the ground floor there is a winding staircase in the east angle, which ascends to the top of the tower, and communicates with every floor; it is about five feet five inches wide, the cement still retains the impressions