It was not until they were well on their way toward Winchester, that Mrs. Pitt found a chance to tell the young people something about that ancient city which they were so soon to see.
“Winchester has a cathedral, hasn’t it?” Betty had inquired. “I always like to see those.”
“Yes, indeed,” replied Mrs. Pitt. “There surely is a cathedral, for it’s the longest one in all Europe with the exception of St. Peter’s at Rome. I’m certain you will enjoy that; but what I think you’ll appreciate even more are the associations which Winchester has with the life of Alfred the Great. You all remember about him, don’t you!”
“The fellow who burnt the cakes?” put in John, jeeringly.
“Yes, but he was also ‘the fellow’ who led his army at a time when the country was in great danger—who dressed as a minstrel and dared to go even into the very camp of the enemy, so as to investigate their movements. You certainly like that in him, John?”
“I know it! That was great!” John answered warmly. “Please tell us some more about him, Mrs. Pitt.”
“To me he has always been one of the most lovable as well as admirable characters in all our English history. He came to the throne at a time when his wise leadership was greatly needed, and he fought long and valiantly for his country. When he burnt the cakes, John, it was merely because his thoughts were so busy with the plans for England’s future. Alfred made Winchester the capital of his whole realm, and here he lived with all the court, when there was peace in the land. Part of Alfred’s boyhood had been spent here, too, when he was the pupil of the wise St. Swithin; and, at Winchester, he made the good and just laws for which he will always be remembered. Within the walls of old Wolvesley Castle, the famous ‘Anglo-Saxon Chronicle’ was commenced, at the command of the King. But besides all these useful deeds, Alfred had such a beautiful personality that his family and all the people of his kingdom loved him, and called him ‘the perfect King.’ I have long admired this little tribute which one historian has given Alfred the Great. He says this; I think these are the very words: ‘He was loved by his father and mother, and even by all the people, above all by his brothers. As he advanced through the years of infancy and youth, his form appeared more comely than that of his brothers; in look, in speech, and in manners, he was more graceful than they. His noble nature implanted in him from his cradle a love of wisdom above all things.’ And so, through all the centuries between his time and ours, King Alfred’s name has stood for all that is just, kind, wise, and beautiful.”
“Where was King Alfred buried, Mother?” asked Barbara.
“I’ll show you his grave—or what is supposed to be his. But here we are at Winchester now!” cried Mrs. Pitt; “and the sun has come out just for our special benefit, too!”
In a “cathedral town,” one is usually drawn first of all to the cathedral itself, it being the central point about which the whole town seems to cluster; and so it was that Mrs. Pitt led the way down the shaded walk between the broad stretches of lawn surrounding the great structure. To her great disappointment, an ugly net-work of staging entirely spoiled the effect of the exterior of the building.