was probably, with its suburbs, a mass of ruins and in decay. We know that when the Romans in the second and third century erected their northern suburb, the ditches were filled up and levelled, and the road to Buxton, and a street close to, were built over it; nor was the ground particularly suited for their method of defence; no remains or traces of their existence have been found either at Castlefield or Alport, nor have we any local traditions or folk-lore, except the Giant Tarquin, who is more connected with Arthurian hero legend to make it probable that they had their seat here. To them, more likely, Hunt's Bank, with its natural and easy defences, afforded the same vantage ground. If my argument of the contemporary dual existence of the upper and lower town can be strengthened at all, let me point out that the Castlefield Station was traditionally known only as Man Castle in the mouth of the people, and so called by such early visitors as Leland, Camden, and others.
Mamecestre—the seat of the Norman lords—retained its name into post-Norman times, and it is only towards the end of the sixteenth century that the scribe of the Court Leet Records drops into the spelling of Man-cestre.
The subject, of course, lends itself to controversy, but I hope I have succeeded, from evidence which is circumstantial and at least carries the weight of some grains of probability to lift it in a degree from the utter submersion Mr. H. Bradley has tried, in his way, to lead us into, and which requires tools for handling, not necessarily entirely of the philological kind; and for the peace of our souls let us hope a local Roman milestone may be found soon by some lucky discoverer to cut all doubts and polemics.
Hunt's Bank received renewed attention when the Romans began to consider the construction of a new and more direct road to reach Ribchester. Thompson
