been
taken away by Oliver Cromwell; it appeared in Manchester at the beginning
of this century under circumstances so curious, that we may be excused for
quoting the following letter from Canon Wray, given in Stanley's Appendix
on the Black Prince's will. "The sword, or supposed sword, of the Black
Prince, which Oliver Cromwell is said to have carried away, I have seen
and many times have had in my hands. There lived in Manchester, when I
first came here, a Mr. Thomas Barritt, a saddler by trade; he was a great
antiquarian, and had collected together helmets, coats of mail, horns,
etc., and many coins. But what he valued most of all was a sword: the
blade about two feet long, and on the blade was let in, in letters of
gold, 'EDWARDUS WALLIE PRINCEPS'.... He was in possession of this sword
A.D. 1794. He told me he purchased many of the ancient relics of a pedlar,
who travelled through the country selling earthenware, and I think he said
he got this sword from this pedlar. When Barritt died, in 1820, his
curiosities were sold by his widow at a raffle, but I believe this sword
was not amongst the articles so disposed of. It had probably been disposed
of beforehand, but to whom I never knew; yet I think it not unlikely that
it is still in the neighbourhood. The sword was a little curved,
scimitar-like, rather thick, broad blade, and had every appearance of
being the Black Prince's sword." Truly a most remarkable story. This
historic blade, which may have hewn down the French ranks at Poitiers, is
disposed of by an itinerant crockery vender to an antiquarian saddler; on
his death is, or is not, "sold at a raffle" and--vanishes!

[Illustration: WEST GATE.]

These arms that hang over the prince's tomb are all that are left of
two distinct suits, one for war, and one for use in the joust and the
ceremonials of peace, which were, according to directions given in the
will, carried in the funeral procession through the West Gate and along
the High Street to the cathedral. The pieces which remain all belong to
the suit worn in actual warfare.

The centre of the chapel looks curiously blank, being left so by the
thoroughness with which all trace of Becket's shrine was removed by the
reforming zeal and insatiable rapacity of Henry VIII. and his minions. The
effect of the bare stone pavement presents an impressive contrast to the
vanished glories of the shrine blazing with gold and jewels, as we read of
it. (For a description of th