the west. Passing on to Eagle-hurst, and noticing the truth of the termination even to this day, let us sit down on the shore. Here is a view which should be remembered. In one sense the world cannot show its equal. Far away to the east stretches the low Hampshire coast, ended by the harbour of Portsmouth and its bare forest of masts. To the south, towards Spithead, rides the long line of battle-ships; and round the harbours of the two Cowes sail fleets of yachts, showing how much still of the old Scandinavian blood runs in our veins—of the spirit which finds pleasure in adventure and delight in danger. Steamers, with their black pennants of smoke, hurry down the narrow strait, carrying the news or the merchandise of the world; whilst all is overshadowed by supreme natural beauty, the hills of the Isle of Wight standing boldly up, crested with their soft green downs, and their dark purple shadows resting fold over fold on the valley sides. Still continuing along the shore we reach Leap, a small fishing village, where boats ply across from its hard to the Island. Its name is derived from the Old-English leap, a weel, or basket for catching fish. Here, it is said, but I know not on what authority save that worst—tradition, that the Dauphin, afterwards Louis VIII. of France, embarked after the defeat of his army at Lincoln, and his fleet off Dover. Certain it is that he had adherents to his cause in the neighbourhood, especially in William de Vernon, whose arms were formerly blazoned with his own in the east window of the north aisle of the Forest Church of Boldre.[1]
- ↑ At the date of the Dauphin's leaving England, William de Vernon was dead, which makes his embarkation at Leap less probable. Neither Roger of Wendover (vol. iv. p. 32. Ed. Coxe), nor Walter Hemingburgh (vol. i. p. 259. Ed. Hamilton), nor Ralph Coggeshale (Chronicon Angli-
