which had its foundation early in the 10th century. St. Alkmund was the son of Alured, King of Northumberland. He was slain in the year 800 and buried at Lilleshall. The church dedicated to him is supposed to have been founded by Ethelfleda, daughter of Alfred the Great. Her nephew, King Edgar, a descendant of Alured, increased the original endowment. Like St. Mary’s it was collegiate, and in the time of Edward the Confessor had eleven manors, which, however, were transferred by King Stephen at the request of Richard de Belemis, one of the Deans, to the Abbey or monastery at Lilleshall. The college being thus both dissolved and impoverished was reduced into a vicarage and lapsed to the crown, in whose hands the living now remains. The church was destroyed in 1794 under a mistaken apprehension as to its stability, and the existing edifice erected in 1796. In a vault beneath it lie the remains of Sir Thomas Jones, Lord Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, who died in 1672; and of Thomas Jones, Esq., his son, to whom reference has already been made, who represented the town in Parliament, and died in 1715, and of whom it is said that his “strict piety, exemplary virtue, and extensive charity consigned him to a joyful resurrection!” A legend relates that in 1533, on twelve successive days, and while the priest was at high mass, the devil appeared in St. Alkmund’s Church, and that this preternatural visitation was accompanied with great darkness and tempest. Poor Trotty Veck in the _Chimes_ thinks that the bells are full of life, that they are under the control of a goblin, and that innumerable little goblins play upon them, leap and fly from them, gambol in and round about them. Trotty is not far wrong: at least three centuries ago there was a goblin in St. Alkmund’s bells, and he tingled the wires of the clock, and he imprinted his claws on the fourth bell, and he carried away one of the pinnacles coolly esconsed under his arm, and, worse than all, he for a time stopped all the bells in Shrewsbury, so that there was no ringing, tolling, chiming or pealing! There can be no doubt about it. Retracing our steps through Church Street we come out upon DOGPOLE,