“What absurd stories,” said Miss Hertford. “I wonder how even a child could have believed them.” “I did not credit them,” I replied, “but now that I see framed on the wall that wonderful restoration of these indistinct outlines, I may think that the miraculous power of the Virgin is still present in her chapel.” [Sidenote: Rebuses.] Those who deem that a person guilty of a pun should suffer imprisonment will not look with much appreciation on the humour attempted on the vaulting of this and the last-named chapels. All that can be said in its behalf is that it has the flavour of a bygone age. These rebuses seem to us puerile. There might be a temptation to represent Silkstede by a skein and a horse; and as Winchester was often called Winton, and famous for its wine, there might be something juicy in symbolizing it by a vine issuing from a tun. But here we have a musical note termed “long,” coming out of a tun for Langton, and some can see a hen making a similar egress for Hunton. The dragon issuing from a tun refers to Proverbs xxiii. 31, 32: “Look not upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his colour in the cup.... At last it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder.” We might be surprised that, when Fox put up the panelling here, he did not insert his own name in a similarly humorous manner. Reynard was a known ecclesiastical emblem, but not a complimentary one--in a church carving we find him preaching to a flock of geese. Our austere bishop would have been shocked at such a representative; he chose the self-sacrificing pelican.[84] “Playing with words was much in fashion even at a later epoch,” said Mr. Hertford. “Not a few of our great families have punning mottoes as ‘Ver non semper viret’ for Vernon, ‘Cavendo tutus’ for Cavendish, and so on.” “I do not dislike the little conceits here,” I replied; “it shows that the ascetic monks had something fresh and green left in them. Perhaps that fine Chantrey monument is not so much out of place here as some suppose. Bishop North was a good Christian and a good cricketer. It is said that sometimes while he was in the field hitting away, his chaplain was in the tent bowling hard questions at the candidates for ordination.” Our guide now took us into the next or northernmost chapel, dedicated to the “Guardian Angels.” “There is nothing of much interest here?” I observed, looking around. “No, sir,” he replied, “except the window.” “There is nothing remarkable in that?” “No; except that it was put up by a remarkable man,” he returned, warmly; “the best dean we could possibly have--generous to rich and poor; and yet,” he added, with a twinkle, “he left a good bit, £50,000.” The dean of whom the verger spoke so enthusiastically lived to be ninety-six. His son became a dean, lived to be seventy, and died before his father. Expectant heirs, take note. [Sidenote: Ethelmar.]