Among the aggravating causes that led to this insurrection, so famous in our country’s annals, the desecration of church furniture and vestments, that had followed the footsteps of the Reformation, stood prominently forth; the people’s hearts rebelled against the havoc made amongst the objects they had been taught to look upon as holy—and as these deeds of licence had been simultaneous with encroachments upon their temporal rights of pasture and common land, a double feeling was engendered—a longing for social and political freedom, and a desire to reform a Reformation that was marked by such atrocious want of reverence for all that had been sacred. Conservatism and ultra-radicalism were blended, even as in many minds to this hour they grow together. Connected with this event of history, are two memorials that mark it as of national interest—the Homily on Rebellion which was written against the insurgents, and the institution of lord lieutenants of counties, as safeguards against such another sudden and formidable outbreak in any part of the kingdom. Stretching away far as the eye may reach, is the broad moor, laid bare of forest trees by these same rebel forces, now clothed with yellow furze and purple heather, intertwined with clovewort and ranunculus, and hiding beneath, the crimson-tipped lichen, whose sanguine clubs and cups would seem to have drank from the soil the blood of the slain, and rendered it immortal. Bowl-shaped excavations dotted over its surface, testify of Celtic habitations hollowed out in remote ages, beneath the forest shades, roofed by its boughs, and lying hidden among the leaves like lower birds’ nests,—now in barren desolation, serving well the vagrant purposes of gypsy life, and lending a feature to the scene that Lavengro has painted with a master-hand. And now the eye reposes from its survey—and thought flies back to the day when the distant sea swept around the base of the castle of Blanchflower, and filled the valley below—to the era of the brave Iceni, and the sorrows of the warrior queen, Boadicea—to the advent of the mighty Cæsar,—the appropriating Saxons,—and the savage Danes and Norsemen, with their pirate hordes, storming the outposts of the military camp from their uncouth naval fleets,—and thence to the era of the Norman hero planting his foot upon our soil, when barons multiplied in the land; and one scene of history enacted within the castle walls, bearing this date, tells much of feudal laws and feudal power. The earldom of the city, castle, and meadow lands, being then possessed by a Breton, named Ralph de Gael, or Guader, partly by gift from the Conqueror, partly perhaps by force of arms, this local sovereign designed to wed the daughter of one Fitz-Osborn, a relation of William.