“This space,” said Mr. Bevan, “was formerly the tilt-yard of the castle, where the fêtes and tournaments were held; and here the beautiful Isabella de Fortibus, the lady of the Island, in the time of Edward I., used to sit, surrounded by her court, to bestow her prizes on the victors.” Agnes, who had never seen anything of archery before, was more interested in the preparations for the archery meeting than in what Mr. Bevan was saying of the ancient mistress of the Island; and her mother perceiving how attentive she was to all she saw, pointed out to her the target with its painted rings of black and white, and the red spot in the centre. “And what is this red spot for?” asked Agnes. “That’s the bull’s eye,” said a man who was employed in setting up the target, “and them’s the cleverest as hits it, or comes nearest it when they shoots.” Agnes could hardly help laughing at the man’s bad grammar: and she looked at her mother, but, to her great surprise, instead of Mrs. Merton seeming inclined to ridicule the man, she entered into conversation with him, and asked him a great many questions about shooting. The man, thus encouraged, showed them the piece of leather, called the bracer, which is strapped on the left arm to prevent the wrist from being hurt by the rebound of the bow-string when the arrow is let off; and he told them that a young lady, who had attempted to shoot without a bracer, had had her arm so much injured as to be obliged to have it dressed by a surgeon. “But she wouldn’t listen to nobody,” continued the man; “and she would have her own way, and that was the end of it. She was sorry enough, I warrant her, when she saw the blood running down, and felt the smart; but it was too late then.” Mrs. Merton and Agnes looked at each other again, but this time it was with a perfect community of feeling. The man then showed them a shooting glove, to save the fingers from being hurt when the archer pulls the string; and, reaching down the bow, he taught Agnes how it should be held. “I believe the best bows are made of yew,” said Mrs. Merton. “Yes,” said the man; “though there’s nothing that is seldomer seen than a yew bow among the gentry that comes down from London. All the bows that they bring with them are some queer kind of fancy wood or other. I don’t trouble my head with the names of them, for my part; but I know a good yew bow will beat them all hollow at any time.” He then showed them the shaft, or arrow, which was a slender piece of wood, headed with iron and trimmed with feathers. The best arrows, he told them, were made of ash, as that wood was light, and tough at the same time. Agnes was very anxious to stay and see the archers begin to shoot, but her mother was afraid that Mr. Merton would be quite tired of waiting for them; and they therefore left the castle, without visiting the terraces, which are usually shown to strangers, on account both of their own beauty, and the fine views that they command.