at not only are the stains of human blood
wrongfully shed ineffaceable, but a curse lights upon the ground,
causing it to remain barren for ever. There is, for instance, a
dark-looking piece of ground devoid of verdure in the parish of
Kirdford, Sussex. Local tradition says that this was formerly green,
but the grass withered gradually away soon after the blood of a
poacher, who was shot there, trickled down on the place. But perhaps
the most romantic tale of this kind was that known as the "Field of
Forty Footsteps." A legendary story of the period of the Duke of
Monmouth's Rebellion describes a mortal conflict which took place
between two brothers in Long Fields, afterwards called Southampton
Fields, in the rear of Montague House, Bloomsbury, on account of a
lady who sat by. The combatants fought so furiously as to kill each
other, after which their footsteps, imprinted on the ground in the
vengeful struggle, were reported "to remain, with the indentations
produced by their advancing and receding; nor would any grass or
vegetation grow afterwards over these forty footsteps." The most
commonly received version of the story is, that two brothers were in
love with the same lady, who would not declare a preference for
either, but coolly sat upon a bank to witness the termination of a
duel which proved fatal to both. Southey records this strange story in
his "Commonplace Book,"[29] and after quoting a letter from a friend,
recommending him to "take a view of those wonderful marks of the
Lord's hatred to duelling, called 'The Brothers' Steps,'" he thus
describes his own visit to the spot: "We sought for near half an hour
in vain. We could find no steps at all within a quarter of a mile, no,
nor half a mile, of Montague House. We were almost out of hope, when
an honest man, who was at work, directed us to the next ground
adjoining to a pond. There we found what we sought, about
three-quarters of a mile north of Montague House and five hundred
yards east of Tottenham Court Road. The steps are of the size of a
large human foot, about three inches deep, and lie nearly from
north-east to south-west. We counted only twenty-six; but we were not
exact in counting. The place where one or both the brothers are
supposed to have fallen is still bare of grass. The labourer also
showed us the bank where, the tradition is, the wretched woman sat to
see the combat." Miss Porter and her sister founded upon this tragic
romance their story, "