seek in vain to dispose of his steed, for whom a nobler destiny was in store, and bade him meet him when the sun had set, with his horse, at the same place.  He then disappeared.  The farmer resolving to put the truth of this prediction to the test, hastened on to Macclesfield Fair, but no purchaser could be obtained for his horse.  In vain he reduced his price to half; many admired, but no one was willing to be the possessor of so promising a steed.  Summoning, therefore, all his courage, he determined to brave the worst, and at sunset reached the appointed place.  The monk was punctual to his appointment.  Follow me, said he, and led the way by the Golden Stone, Stormy Point, to Saddle Bole.[2] On their arrival at this last named spot, the neigh of horses seemed to arise from beneath their feet.  The stranger waved his wand, the earth opened and disclosed a pair of ponderous iron gates.  Terrified at this, the horse plunged and threw his rider, who kneeling at the feet of his fearful companion, prayed earnestly for mercy.  The monk bade him fear nothing, but enter the cavern, and see what no mortal eye ever yet beheld.  On passing the gates he found himself in a spacious cavern, on each side of which were horses, resembling his own, in size and colour.  Near these lay soldiers accoutred in ancient armour, and in the chasms of the rock were arms, and piles of gold and silver.  From one of these the enchanter took the price of the horse in ancient coin, and on the farmer asking the meaning of these subterranean armies, exclaimed, “These are caverned warriors preserved by the good genius of England, until that eventful day, when distracted by intestine broils, England shall be thrice won and lost between sunrise and sunset.  Then we awakening from our sleep, shall rise to turn the fate of Britain.  This shall be when George, the son of George, shall reign.  When the Forests of Delamere shall wave their arms over the slaughtered sons of Albion.  Then shall the eagle drink the blood of princes from the headless cross (query corse.) Now haste thee home, for it is not in thy time these things shall be.  A Cestrian shall speak it, and be believed.”  The farmer left the cavern, the iron gates closed, and though often sought for, the place has never again been found.

The latter part of the monk’s prophecy has been fulfilled.  Nixon, the well-known Cheshire seer foretold the same events in nearly the same words; but the belief in his dreams of futurity, has been much diminished by the decease of our late monarch.  Recourse has been had, as in other works of greater moment, to various readings, and the probable mistakes of early transcribers, and many emendations have been proposed to supply the place of the name of George, but adhuc sub judice lis est.  The Cestrian rustics of the neighbouring villages, still believe that at midnight the neighing of horses is audible under Alderley Edge.

H.