built a mansion on the site of the domestic buildings, but the Priory Church (now commonly called the Abbey), which occupied the north side of the quadrangle, remained and still remains the parish church of the little hamlet. On its northern or outward side are five large windows, the middle one of which is shorter than the others to allow of a door underneath (Plate XII.). This door has long been walled up and no trace of it is visible outside, but tradition (as preserved in the Wren family, the owners from 1713 to 1861), called it the "Devil's Door" and declared that it was opened only at Baptisms and Exorcisms, to allow of the exit of the Devil who might otherwise meet and enter into some one coming in by the usual entrance nearer the north-west angle of the building.

Mr. H. W. Poole (Barnet) informs me through Mr. Milne that the custom of leaving open the north door of the church at a Baptism—or at any rate the idea that it ought to be so left open-for the use of the Devil, is constant in Gloucestershire. And Brand has many notes of the custom of reserving the north side of the churchyard for the burial of unbaptized persons and suicides (Ellis's Brand, ii. 292).

CHARLOTTE S. BURNE.

THE LEGEND OF SAVADDAN LAKE.

NOT far from the foot of the Black Mountains of Brecon, in a low lovely fertile valley, under the shadow of Mount Troedd, lies Savaddan Lake (the Llangorse Lake of our maps). The following tradition is told regarding it:

Many years ago, when all the surrounding country was under Prince Tewdryg, the bed of the lake was occupied by Savaddan, a town identified with the Roman Loventium. It was, at the time of our story, ruled by a maiden, the beautiful and highspirited Gwenonwy, who was under Tewdryg's suzerainty. From far and wide came suitors for her hand and throne, but none found such favour as the noble Gruffydd, youngest son of a

neighbouring prince named Meigyr. He was all that her heart could desire, yet the maiden Princess dared not wed him, for her father on his deathbed had demanded, and received her promise, never to become the bride of one who was not her equal both in birth and fortune.

She was a rich and powerful Princess, while he, though of good birth, was poor. After long delays Gruffydd determined to bring matters to a crisis, and went one night to the Princess's bower and urged her to forget her oath and wed him, regardless of her promise.

"Never," replied the Princess, "shall it be said that the daughter of the noble Ieuan broke her word. I love you, Gruffydd; but my honour is dearer to me than even your love. You, too, are a Prince, and of a noble family. Use your good arm and sword as your fathers have done, and gain wealth as they did, and come to me a year hence my equal as well in fortune as in rank. For a year and a day I will wait and pray for you; return to me within that time a bridegroom worthy of Gwenonwy's hand, or return no more."

The Prince then left Savaddan and his love, and went to the court of Tewdryg, and for ten months fought under his banner against Madoc, the rebel lord of Skenpeth, gaining much honour but little wealth. At last the war ended, and Gruffydd resolved to make a final appeal to the love of Gwenonwy. Leaving Tewdryg's capital, he arrived on the third day of his journey at Bryn-yr-Allt, a monastery on the mountain side overlooking Savaddan. Here he asked and obtained shelter for the night. He had not slept long when he was awakened by the sound of voices in the refectory, which was separated from his room only by a thin wooden partition.

He overheard a conversation between Owen the Sub-Prior and another monk, Father Aeddan, from which he learnt that the Prior was expected to return next day, bringing with him mules laden with precious stones and jewelled robes, bequeathed to the monastery by Howell, Prince of Cwmdu, whom he had attended on his deathbed. Gruffydd determined, on hearing this, to waylay and rob the Prior. He went to a spring, named

left him for dead, and carried off his mules with their loads to Savaddan. He told Gwenonwy his story, and was received by her with favour. Meanwhile the monks who had gone out to meet the Prior found him lying insensible, but he recovered sufficiently to tell them who the murderer was before he died. That night an order arrived from Princess Gwenonwy that a monk from the monastery should attend that night at the Palace to unite her to Gruffydd, Prince of Bronllys. In the evening a vast assembly thronged the royal chapel to witness the marriage. Father Owen performed the ceremony, and as the young pair knelt before him for the final benediction, the priest stepped forward, and in a loud authoritative tone exclaimed:

"Rise, Gruffydd of Bronllys, thou murderer; and thou, too, lady accomplice in his crime, inasmuch as thou hast not avenged it. Wedded, yet unblest, hear God's decree. Thou, Prince, hast shed sacred blood, and thou, Princess, rejoicest in the unholy deed. Therefore God shall visit you with a great and terrible punishment. In His mercy He will bear with you for a time, but in the fourth generation the blow will fall not only on yourselves, but on all your unblest seed. It shall be; God hath spoken it."

Without the blessing of the Church upon her union, the kneeling Princess rose in a rage, and, turning to her guards, she said:

"This presumptuous man has dared to offer an insult to a Princess of Savaddan within her own palace walls. Hence with him to the guard tower. Let him there await the fulfilment of his prophecy. Should he still live at the fourth generation, and his words prove vain, he shall die. It shall be; I have spoken it."

Many long and weary years the good father spent in a lonely cell at Savaddan, while the town and Court were given up to debauchery and vice.

Meanwhile Gruffydd and Gwenonwy, now growing old, saw springing up around them a goodly family of children and grandchildren. Soon Myvig, their eldest grandson, married, and in due course a child was born.

This was the long-dreaded advent of the fourth generation; still there was no evidence of the