The High Street here becomes very broad, apparently to accommodate a Russian gun, but really because the Bridewell and a “dye house” stood here till the beginning of this century, when it was removed to Hyde Street. Even the ponderous cannon has not had a quiet time since it came here, but has been on its travels. It was first placed where it now stands, but a few years ago the Corporation conceived the idea of moving it to a more commanding position on the summit of St. Giles’ hill. They accordingly carried it up, but immediately afterwards a tumultous assembly, aided, it is said, by some officers, and not dissimilar from that which saved the Butter Cross, dragged the gun down again by might and placed it on the site it now occupies.[42] Close to the bridge on the left-hand side where are Mr. Dance’s house and grounds, stood anciently the Dominican friary, founded by De la Roche, with its “Elysian garden.” Just here was also the Eastgate, a high castellated building, which must have formed a handsome entrance to the town in this direction. It was removed at the end of the last century. Beneath Bridge Street are the remains of a many-arched bridge said to have been built by St. Swithun. [Sidenote: Soke Bridge.] [Illustration: _Soke Bridge._] Passing over Soke Bridge, and proceeding straight on, we came, in a few hundred yards, to a public-house built of wood and apparently sinking under the weight of years, but which bore the name of “The Rising Sun.” Through the open door I saw beams and passages of ancient irregularity, and as the landlady, a bright looking woman, was standing just inside I asked her whether she knew anything of the history of the house which bore such proofs of antiquity. “You _would_ say it was old,” she replied, “if you saw the vaults there are downstairs.” I answered that we were strangers, and should like to see them. She speedily lighted a candle and led the way down into a chamber about twenty feet square and eight high. A wide flight of broken stairs led up to the street, while on the other side of the vault was an arch with a square window on either side leading to a chamber beyond. There had evidently been stone mullions and iron bars--the irons of the door hinges remain. This was the prison of the Soke belonging to the Bishop of Winchester, and in ancient times the stocks stood just outside. I expressed the interest I took in these remains of the past. “Yes, sir,” replied our guide, who was not quite so visionary, “and it is a nice place for keeping beer barrels--it is so cool.”