her former husband, wept sore, and was beaten by the Welshman. Sir
William made himself known to his tenants, and raising a troop,
marched to the hall. The Welsh knight fled, but Sir William followed
him and slew him at Newton, for which act he was outlawed a year and a
day. The lady was enjoined by her confessor to do penance by going
once a week, bare-footed and bare-legged, to a cross near Wigan, two
miles from the hall, and it is called Mab's Cross to this day. You can
see in Wigan Church the monument of Sir William and his lady, which
tells this sad story, and also the cross--at least, all that remains
of it--the steps, a pedestal, and part of the shaft--in Standisgate,
"to witness if I lie." It is true that Sir William was born ten years
after the last of the crusades had ended; but what does that matter?
He was probably fighting for his king, Edward II, against the Scots,
or he was languishing a prisoner in some dungeon. There was plenty of
fighting in those days for those who loved it, and where was the
Englishman then who did not love to fight for his king and country, or
seek for martial glory in other lands, if an ungrateful country did
not provide him with enough work for his good sword and ponderous
lance?

Such are some of the stories that cluster round these crosses. It is a
sad pity that so many should have been allowed to disappear. More have
fallen owing to the indifference and apathy of the people of England
in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries than to the wanton and
iconoclastic destruction of the Puritans. They are holy relics of
primitive Christianity. On the lonely mountainsides the tired
traveller found in them a guide and friend, a director of his ways and
an uplifter of his soul. In the busy market-place they reminded the
trader of the sacredness of bargains and of the duty of honest
dealing. Holy truths were proclaimed from their steps. They connected