of the gate, who advised that she should be laid on the sands by the
river. So, this being done, the tide carried the lady, floating gently,
like another lady, Elaine, upon its soft bosom, and placed her near the
walls of Caerleon (now Chester), where she was found next day, says the
legend, drowned and dead. Here the inhabitants of Caerleon buried her.
Upon this occasion, it is said, the river, which had until then been
called the Usk, was changed to Rood Die, or Rood Dee. We need not stay
here to analyze some things belonging to locality and etymology, which
appear to us somewhat anachronistic and contradictory in this ancient
and queer legend.

Hawarden Church is a fairly large structure, externally a plain old
brick building with a low tower and a dwarf spire, standing in the midst
of a large population of graves. There is preserved in the annals of
the Church a list of the rectors of Hawarden as far back as 1180.

About forty years ago a fire broke out in the Church, and when all was
over, very little was left of the original structure except the walls.
It was restored with great expedition, and was re-opened within the same
year. The present building is a restoration to the memory of the
immediate ancestor, from whom the estate is derived by the present
family. It is the centre of hard, earnest work, done for an
exceptionally large parish. But the Church population is occasionally
recruited from all the ends of the earth.

It is here that the Gladstone family worship on the plain, uncushioned
pew, near the lectern and opposite the pulpit. When the estates came
into the hands of the Glynnes the living was bestowed upon a member of
the family. The Rector is Rev. Stephen Gladstone, second son of the
Premier. He is not a great preacher, but he is quietly earnest and