The outline of Warwickshire is something in the form of a turnip, and
the stem of it, which, like an isthmus, projects into Gloucestershire
and Oxfordshire, contains many old-world places.
Long Compton, the most southern village of all, is grey and straggling
and picturesque, with orchards on all sides, and a fine old church,
amid a group of thatched cottages, whose interior was restored or
mangled at a period when these things were not done with much
antiquarian taste. We have pleasant recollections of a sojourn at the
"Old Red Lion," where mine host in 1880, a typical Warwickshire farmer, was the most hospitable and cheery to
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be found in this or any other county: an innkeeper of the old school that it did one's heart good to see.
But this welcome house of call is by no means the only Lion of the
neighbourhood, for on the ridge of the high land which forms the
boundary of Oxfordshire are the "Whispering Knights," the "King's Stone," and a weird Druidical circle. These are the famous Rollright Stones, about which there is a story that a Danish prince came over
to invade England, and when at Dover he consulted the oracle as to
the chances of success. He was told that
"When Long Compton you shall see, You shall King of England be."
Naturally he and his soldiers made a bee-line for Long Compton, and,
arriving at the spot where the circle is now marked by huge boulders,
he was so elated that he stepped in advance of his followers, who
stood round him, saying, "It is not meet that I should remain among my subjects, I will go before." But for his conceit some unkind spirit turned the whole party into stone, which doesn't seem
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quite fair. "King's Stone" stands conspicuous from the rest on the other side of the road, and, being very erect, looks as if the prince still
prided himself upon his folly. The diameter of the circle is over a
hundred feet. In an adjoining field is a cluster of five great stones.
These are the "Whispering Knights"; and the secret among
themselves is that they will not consent to budge an inch, and woe to
the farmer who attempts to remove them. The story goes that one of
the five was once carted off to make a bridge; but the offender had
such a warm time of it that he speedily repented his folly and
reinstated it.
There is a delightful walk across the fields from Long Compton to
Little Compton, with a glorious prospect of the Gloucestershire and
Warwickshire hills. This village used to be in the former county, but
now belongs to Warwickshire. Close to the quaint saddle-back
towered church stands the gabled Elizabethan manor-house, with the
Juxon arms carved over the entrance. Its exterior has been but little
altered since the prelate lived here in retirement after the execution of
Charles I. A gruesome relic was kept in one of the rooms, the block
upon which the poor monarch's head was severed. This and King
Charles' chair and some of the archbishop's treasured books
disappeared from the manor-house after the death of his descendant
Lady Fane. Internally the house has been much altered, but there are
many nooks and corners to ca
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rry the memory back to the hunting bishop, for his pack of hounds
was one of the best managed in the country. Upon one occasion a
complaint was made to the Lord Protector that Juxon's hounds had
followed the scent through Chipping Norton churchyard at the time of
a puritanical assembly there. But Oliver would hear none of it, and
only replied, "Let the bishop enjoy his hunting unmolested."