After leaving Basingstoke, the train proceeded with great rapidity. Andover was the next station; and here numerous carriages were waiting to convey passengers to Salisbury, Exeter, and all the intermediate towns. Winchester next appeared in sight; and soon that ancient city, with its fine cathedral and antique cross, lay below them. Then they reached, and passed, the river Itchen, which winds backwards and forwards, like a broad riband floating in the wind. They were now within a few miles of Southampton; and, as they rapidly advanced, they began to feel the fresh breeze from the water. They still hurried on, and soon the masts of the shipping appeared in sight. The train now stopped, that the passengers might give up their tickets. This was soon done; and the train whirled on again to Southampton. They descended at the terminus; and having their luggage conveyed to the pier, they had it placed on board one of the steam-packets, which, they were told, would sail in about an hour. Having finished this business, Mr. Merton sat down on one of the seats on the pier, while Mrs. Merton and Agnes walked back to take a glance at the town. The town of Southampton consists principally of one long, broad street, which ascends from the sea up a hill. This street is divided nearly in the middle by a curious old gate, called the bar; and which was, in fact, one of the gates of the ancient town. Towards this monument of antiquity, Mrs. Merton and Agnes bent their steps; and Mrs. Merton explained to her daughter, that bar was the Saxon name of gate. “Oh, yes,” cried Agnes, “you know we say Temple Bar; and I remember that the gates in York are called bars: but mamma, what are those curious figures in front?” “They are said to be the figures of a knight, renowned in romance, called Sir Bevis, of Hampton, and of Ascabart, a giant whom he slew.” “This giant was mighty, and he was strong, And feet full thirty was he long; His lips were great, and hung aside; His eyes were hollow, his mouth was wide: Loathly he was to look upon, And liker a demon than a man: His staff was a young and torn-up oak; And hard and heavy was his stroke.” “The giant Ascabart is alluded to in the first canto of Scott’s _Lady of the Lake_; and many legends are told of his conqueror Sir Bevis, who appears to have resided near Southampton, at a place still called Sir Bevis’s Mount.” “I suppose these figures below are Sir Bevis’s arms,” said Agnes; “if there ever was such a person.” “I do not wonder that you have not full faith in Sir Bevis,” said Mrs. Merton, smiling; “but for my own part, I believe that all the heroes of romance we hear about in different places are real personages, though their deeds have been so exaggerated as to make us doubt their existence.” “But the arms, mamma,” repeated Agnes,—“whose do you think they are?”