ty of her
position.

"_This_," said the stately lady, pointing to an immense structure of
armor, "this is the armor of the mighty Guy."

"The mighty Guy!" said Tommy Toby, with large eyes, "will you please
tell us who _he_ was?"

The antique portress stared as though amazed at such a confession of
ignorance.

"We are from America," said Tommy.

Master Lewis smiled at being included in the uninstructed "we."

"Guy was a giant."

Tommy's interest grew.

"He was the great Earl of Warwick: a valiant soldier who slew so many
people that he became melancholy, and retired to Guy's Cliff, as it
is now called, and there lived alone in a cave for thirty years. He
was _nine_ feet high."

"And what is _that_?" said Tommy Toby, pointing to an immense pot.

"That," said the antique lady, "was the mighty Guy's _porridge pot_."

"How much does it hold?"

"It holds one hundred and twenty gallons, and weighs eight hundred
pounds."

"Did the mighty Guy drink as much porridge as that at every meal?"
asked Tommy, his curiosity taking a wider circle with each new
statement.

"I don't know; all of these things happened long, long before I was
born.

"_That_," said the lady, "is a rib of the Dun Cow."

"What kind of a cow was that?" asked Tommy.

"It was a cow which the mighty Guy killed on Dunsmore Heath. It weighs
nine pounds and a half."

"The cow?"

"No, the rib."

The lady led the party in a procession which she dramatically headed
through the lower rooms of the principal building. She showed them the
superb old baronial hall; the drawing-rooms, magnificent with
tapestries and inlaid furniture; the pictures by Vandyke. Then in an
awesome manner she suddenly stopped, and said in a low confidential
voice,--

"The Countess herself is above stairs."

"How many feet high is the Countess? I'd give a quarter--"

Tommy's intended remark was checked by Master Lewis.

The lady requested a fee on showing the party back to the lodge, and
dismissed Master Lewis with a stiff bow that indicated a want of
confidence in American respect for the great and mighty Guy and his
successors.

CHAPTER X.

A VISIT TO OXFORD AND WOODSTOCK.

A University a Thousand Years Old.--Woodstock.--Fair Rosamond.--Old
Ballad.--The Head of Brass that Spoke.

"Beautiful! beautiful!" exclaimed Wyllys Wynn, as the city of Oxford
appeared in view. "It looks like a city of churches."

"It is indeed a city of institutions," said