an image on the cross behind Edgar, “Let this not be; ye have judged well. Ye may not change for the better.” Edgar and Dunstan alone heard the voice. They were struck dumb, and fell to the ground. The voice was then heard a second time: “Arise, fear not, for justice and peace have kissed each other in the monks.” “It is evident that the speaker, whoever he was, had no sense of the ludicrous,” said Mr. Hertford. “We are led,” I added, “to think of the peculiar orifice there is in the Castle Hall just behind the daïs.” [Sidenote: Cathedral Treasures.] When the Danes obtained the sovereignty the butter-boat of the monks was still safe. Cnut enriched the Cathedral with a mass of gold and silver and of jewels, the brilliance of which “frightened strangers.” His own crown, either in his lifetime, or more probably after his body had lain in State before the high altar, was placed on the head of the Saviour, on the Cross which stood here. He gave a splendid shrine for Birinus, and a silver candelabrum with six branches. A magnificent golden cross, two large images of gold and silver, and shrines for relics were also bestowed.[65] Much of this munificence was suggested by his queen, Emma, who was a devotee.[66] She had Alwyn, a relation of her own, made Bishop of Winchester. Perhaps her partiality for this monastery caused some jealousy, for after her son, Edward the Confessor, had been crowned here in 1042, she was accused of being improperly familiar with the bishop, of consenting to the death of her son, Alfred and of opposing Edward’s accession. The King himself came down here in disguise to watch her, and soon her treasury in Winchester was seized, and she was compelled to retire to the convent of Wherwell. We are told that she felt greatly her reduced circumstances, “because the worst part of poverty was that it made people contemptible.” A memorable, if not legendary, scene is now recorded by Rudborne. “Emma the Lady,” once the “Flower of Normandy,” demands to have her innocence tried by walking over red-hot ploughshares. The day draws near. She spends the night in prayers and tears, and in visiting the tomb of St. Swithun: the saint bids her be of good courage. Next morning a crowd of clergy and laity collect in the Cathedral; the King is in his State robes. Nine dreadful red-hot ploughshares are brought forth. The Queen advances and addresses the King. “My lord and son, I, Emma, that bore you, accused before you of crimes against you and Alfred, my son, and of base conduct with Alwyn the bishop, call God to witness in my person whether I have had in my mind any of these things attributed to me.” She then throws off her outer robe and takes off her shoes. A tremor of terror passes through the vast multitude, and the cry rends the air, “St. Swithun, save her!” Rudborne does not minimize it; he says that it was so loud that the saint must have come then or never. “Heaven suffers violence, and St. Swithun is dragged down by force”--such are