/ CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY THE WORDSWORTH COLLECTION FOUNDED BY CYNTHIA MORGAN ST. JOHN THE GIFT OF VICTOR EMANUEL OF THE CLASS OF I919 r ^^ Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924104094754 A THOUSAND MILES OP^ WANDERING ALONG THE ROMAN WALL, THE OLD BORDER REGION, LAKELAND, AND RIBBLESDALE. By Edmund Bogg, Member flf the Yorkshire ArcJueolo^ical Society ; AUTHOR OF "FROM EDENVALE TO THE PLAINS OF YORK," "A THOUSAND MILES IN WHARFEDALE," ETC. ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY ILLUSTRATIONS. LEEDS • Edmund Bogg, 3, Woodhouse Lane. James Miles, Guildford Street. 1898. 'D /)>^/^v^> THE ILLUSTRATION ON TITLE PAGE IS BY PERMISSION OF LANDEKER, LEE, AND BROWN. 4, -<5X PREFACE. K^ I HE success of the first edition of this work, in two parts, bound in one volume, JL, comprising 1,200 copies^ now exhausted, and demands for more, encouraged the author to issue the book in a more cheap and popular form, namely, in two volumes, each complete, if needs be, without the other. Volume I. dealing principally with Durham, Northumberland, and the Border Country proper; Volume II. describing the district around Carlisle, The Roman Wall, South Tyne, and the Irthing and Eden Valleys, with chapters descriptive of the old-world border country around Upper Teesdale and Stain-Moor. Then the pilgrimage is extended to the Lake Country, and from thence down Ribblesdale to the sea. Our object is to excite that love for nature (inherent in the human heart), especially the varied and changeful scenery of our native land, which can hold its own with the fairest scenes beyond. Few countries can match ours in the delightful undulation of hill, vale, and plain, decked with green woods, meadows, and corn field. Old sleepy villages, sombre and grey, with church spire rising over the sunlit roofs, or, peradventure, an old castle or peel tower seen standing so shadowy and silent on the wild, desolate moorland, though shorn of former dignity, still seeming to defy the wreck of time^ mute, yet eloquent, opening out pages of thrilling history, startling exploits, adventure, and romance, in days when " might was right." And how delightful to the soul of a pilgrim is the scenery along the banks of a river anon hurrying, now tranquil, curving and flowing 'neath overshadowing trees ; and perhaps in no other part of the world, in so small a compass as our English Lakes cover, can such exquisite phases of nature be found. And, lastly, Ribblesdale, where the Kibble bursts from the wild mountainous country of Craven, with its wondrous caverns and curious pot holes, its latter course meandering and graceful. Thus we obtain, in this valley, in a distance of 30 or 40 miles, all the charm of contrast which make the Northern counties so delightful and invigorating. I owe my thanks to Mr. G. T. Lowe and Mr.'L. Moore for their contributions — " The Roman Wall," " Climbs in Lakeland," and '' High Ribblesdale." Truly yours, EDMUND BOGG. ^^(^ INTRODUCTION. .K^ y\ GAI^ VOLUME II. N we have left behind the busy manufacturing centres, on this occasion our ^^ ^ destination being the Border and Lake country, around which clings, as ivy to ruin, inspiring themes from old romance. As the train speeds onward, bewitching glimpses of lovely scenery spread in rapid succession before our eyes. How exquisite are the silver twinings of the Lune, receding away into the distant landscape ; now through meadows, and over many a stream to the west — the blue waters of Morecambe glitter in a ripple of sheen ; now the line passes for several miles up the vale of the Kent, woods, village, mansion, and distant church tower adds further interest to the beholder. The wild sweep of the Lake Hills rise and add their beauty to the scene. Kendal is passed, and for several miles we glide through a succession of hill country, the mountains towering in grandeur against the sky, and clouds cleaving and playing around as if things of life. The beauty of contour, and the ever- changing light and shade inspiring and elevating the mind of a city-pent man. What pleasurable anticipations spring to the mind as imagination conjures happy days of our future wanderings. Yonder to the west is the vale of the Lowther, where the Abbey of Shap rests in peaceful seclusion ; still further is the richly timbered park and regal demesne, formerly the seat of the Lowthers (now Lonsdale). Clifton, with its primitive church and grim peel-tower, reminds us of the skirmish of 1745, the last attempt made by the ill-fated Stuarts to regain their inheritance. Now the train speeds over the beautiful valley of the Lowther and Eamont, and a few hundred yards east, the ruins of Brougham rise in sombre dignity from a thickly timbered landscape, beyond which towers, in wall-like prominence, the great Penine Range, the highest point terminating in Cross Fell. Just a few glimpses at Penrith, with its grim and ragged fortress of red sandstone, situated in the forest of Inglewood, which the old chronicle of Lanercost describes as " A goodly and great forest full of red deer, fallow, wild swine, and all manner of wild beasts," a district which has often resounded with the tramp and clash of hostile armies, and which afforded a secure hiding- place for refugees and outlaws in the struggle and turmoil of past ages. Penrith is a place Introduction. of great antiquity, as the many prehistoric remains in this district testify. It is also one of the entrances to the Lake country. All the way from Penrith to Carlisle we. obtain delightful peeps and vistas of the dulcet Petrel meandering through rich pasture lands and past sleepy old villages to join the Eden. The landscape adorned with clumps of dark fir, and the grey walls of peel and manor. As the train draws up at Carlisle we pass through the city to the Walls, and scan the circling landscape of the old Borderland^ resonant with echoes of vanished heroes and deeds of wild and lawless daring, the clang of armour, glittering of sword, lance, and spear, the hoarse cries of reivers, driving before them sheep and catde, anon the frenzied and mad haste of troopers in pursuit — " Through the dark wood in mingled tone, Were border pipes and bugles blown." * * * * * ** Glistening through the hawthorn green, Shine helm and shield and spear." Away west can be discerned the glittering Solway, and on the further shore Dornock and Annan. Near by this place a raid, under the command of Sir Marmaduke Langdale and Lord Crosby, ended so disastrous to the invaders, for the few that escaped the fray with their lives were driven into the Solway and drowned ; and the victorious Scots are said to have washed their swords in a well near Annan, since that battle day known as the " Sword's Well." It was yonder on Solway Moss that James the Fifth of Scotland, and his army of fifteen thousand, was defeated by the English. This disaster broke the heart of the unfortunate James, for he died a few days after the battle. Still more to the north is Gretna, famed for the celebration of runaway marriages, in Norman times in the possession of the Carlyles, lords of Annandale — in after centuries passing into the hands of the Johnstones. The ashes of many a scion of this noble family lie mouldering in Gretna kirkyard. Beyond the banks of the little river Sark, Solway Moss, a dreary expanse of waste stretches to the sparkling Esk, on whose bank dwelt for centuries in the old debatable land the redoubtable Graemes, celebrated as the most renowned thieves on the Border. Further up the Esk is Cannobie Lea, across which the Graemes chased " Young Lochinvar." " There was rideing and chaseing on Cannobie Lea, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see." And further still the distant Cheviots fill up the background of the picture, while to the east the remains of the Roman Wall stretch from the Tyne to the Solway, which will be described in a later chapter, and from Carlisle we renew our wandering for the second volume. l|.:.|.^|.i.|.:.|.:4.j^.:.^:|H-v|.--l-:4-vl-:4^h4-vl-H.H-H-^+^l-vl-vl-vl-;^-v ;4:+:4;4;|:.|.:.|.:4:4:.|.:.|.;.|.;^.;4:.|.:.^H.:^.:.^:.|.:4;4:^ CONTENTS CHAPTER I. PAGE. Carlisle; British Occupation; A Roman Fort; King Arthur ; Uter Pendragon ; "Bridal of Triermaen"; The Round Table ; Magnificent Tournament ; Gyneth ; Merlin ; Roland de Vaux, Baron of Triermain ; Castle Rock ; Vale of St. John ; The Banquet ; Knights of the Round Table ; The Flower of Kings ; A Goodly Array of Warriors ; The Body of King Arthur ; Glastonbury ; The Dying King ; Sir Bevidere the Faithful ; Island Valley of Avillion ; Egfrid, King of Northumbria ; St. Cuthbert and St. Herbert of Derwent- water ; The Venerable Bede ; A Warning ; Danes Destroy Carlisle ; The Keep, built by the Red King ; City Girded with Walls ; An Abode of Kings and Queens ; Surge of War ; Edward the First ; Mary Stuart ; Bonnie Prince Charlie ; Kinmont Willie Rescued by Scott of Buccleugh ; Arrested in Violation of Border Law ; A Stormy Night ; Alarm-bells ; Kinmont Willie's "Good-night"; " The Starkest Man in Teviotdale "; Buccleugh Imprisoned ; Sent to England ; Before Elizabeth ; A Noble Reply ; Gateway to the Inner Ward ; The Roman Well ; Dismal Prison House ; Instruments of Torture ; A Loquacious Guide ; Weeping-stone ; A Skeleton in the Walls ; Story of the Sentry ; Cathedral ; Impressive Ceremony ; The Oath of P'ealty ; Robert Bruce Excommunicated : Edward Dies at Burgh-on-Sands ; Walter Scott Married to Miss Carpenter ; Merry Carlisle ; A Transformation ; The City Gates ; "Flying Scotchman "; Stanwix, the Site of a Roman Station ^ ^^ ^^ CHAPTER II. The Roman Wall : The Picts' Wall as a Barrier; Nature of the Rampart and Consequent Theories Advanced ; Situation, Extent and Surface of Country ; Forts older than the Chapter II. — Continued. PAGE. Wall ; Cause of its Destruction ; Historical Value of the Remains ; The Masonry and Dimensions ; Forts, Mile-castles, and Turrets ; Notitia ; Three Parts for Consideration ; Authorship of the Wall ; Claims of Hadrian and Severus ; Date of Construction ; Western Portion from Bowness to Carlisle ; Fosse in Evidence of the Wall ; Wallby, Bleatarn, and Old Wall ; Castlesteads and Cambeck Bridge ; The Kingswater ; Craggle Hill ; Hare Hill ; Highest Existing Portion at Banksburn ; Amboglanna or Burdoswald ; High Bank of the Irthing and Probable Site of Bridge ; Thirlwall Castle ; Spade Adam Waste ; Magna or Caervoran ; Nine Nicks of Thirl- wall ; ^sica or Great Chesters ; Haltwhistle ; Cawfields Mile-castle ; The Northumbrian Lakes ; Crag Lough and Whinshields ; Hot- bank Farm ; Housesteads or Borcovicus ; Sewingshields ; Procolitia or Carrowburgh ; Discovery of Roman Well by Local Farmer ; Walwick and Foundations of Wall in High road ; Chesters or Roman Cilurnum ; Roman Bridge over North Tyne at Chollerford ; Foundations in Road to Errington Arms ; Heddon-on-the-Wall ; Dene House ; Dr. Btuce's Wallet Book ; Wallsend ; Ancient Inscriptions ; Earl of Carlisle and Mr. John Clayton ; Society of Antiquaries of Newcastle- on-Tyne .., ... ... ... ... 12 to 21 CHAPTER III. Hexham : Bishop Wilfrid ; Building of the Abbey; Magnificent Architecture; Destroyed by the Danes ; Bishops Eata and Tilfrith ; Prior Richard ; St. Mary's and St. Peter's ; Thomas, the Second Archbishop of York Restores the Cathedral ; Monastery of Augustine Canons ; Career of St. Wilfrid ; Strict Obedience to the Romish Church ; Acca, Bishop, Scholar, and Singer ; Bede the Venerable ; St. John of Beverley, and John of Contents. Vll. Chapter III. — Continued. page. Hexham ; Battle of Hexham ; Battle Hill ; Flight of King Henry ; Deepdene ; Queen Margaret's Cave; A Fete Day; Fine View of the Old Town ; Edwardian Tower ; Market Hall ; Abbey Church ; Saxon Crypt ; Roman Altar ; Prior Richard's Tomb ; Frid Stool or Sanctuary Chair ; Laws of the Sanctuary ; A City of Refuge ; Abbey Gateway ; The Abbey Suppressed ; Pilgrimage of Grace ; Disaster and Ruin ; Edward Jaye ; Dilston Castle ; " Devil's Water "; AUandale ; Nunsburgh ; Lennel's Bridge ; The De-Dyvelstons ; An Old Border Family , Langley Castle and the Tyndalls ; Adam de Tynedale ; Margaret of Silesia ; Anne of Luxemburg ; William Tyndall, the Reformer ; Claxtons ; Radcliffes of Derwentwater and Dilston ; Their Ad- herence to the Ill-fated Stuarts : Earl of Derwentwater Beheaded on Tower Hill ; Ex- pressions of Grief; Traditions of the District; The Earl Buried in Family Vault at Dilston ; Lady Derwentwater ; Sorrowful Tenantry ; "Lady's Rake"; Charles Radcliffe Executed ; Estates Confiscated ; Description of Dilston ; Family Chapel and Vault of the Radcliffes ; Corbridge ; A Noble Bridge ; Tremendous Flood ; Bloody Acre ; A Pluge Skeleton ; " The Angel"; An Ancient Peel ; Roman, Saxon, and Norman Relics in the Church ; Types of Architecture ; Beaufront Castle ; Aydon Peel ; Peter de Valli- bus ; "Jack's Leap"; A Deep Ravine; Halton Tower ; John de Halton (see foot- note, page 31) ; The Carnabys of Halton Tower ; The Chapel, Norman Chancel Arch ; Roman station of Ilunnum, site of the Roman Wall ; Cocklaw Tower ; St. Oswald's Chapel ; Battle of Hefenfelth ; King Oswald victorious ; Ceadwalla the Pagan slain ; Story of the Cross ; Prayers on the battlefield ; Chollerford Bridge ; Ruins of Cilurnum ; A City of the Past ; The High- way of the Conqueror ; Frontier of the Roman World ; An incident at Cholleford Bridge ; The George ; Four Stones ; Story of the Earl of Derwentwater ; Haydon Bridge ; Cruel Syke ; Martin, the Ariist ; Bardon Mill ; Langley Castle ; Ridley Hall ; River Allen, its source on Alston Moors ; Stanward le Peel ; Willimoteswick ; Unthank Plall ; The Ridleys; Bishop Ridley ; The Wall again Se win- shields ; Tradition of King Arthur ; The Roman Sentinel ; Cat Gate ; Borcovicus ; Tungrian Cohort ; Temple of Mithras ; Hot Bank ; An old Border Family ; A funeral cortege ; Northumbrian Lochs ; Highest point of the Wall : a landmark in the World's History; The Mighty Csesars; The Eternal City, a misnomer ; Burnt Deviot ; vSmug- glers and Reivers ; Haltwhistle ; Feud between the Armstrongs of Liddlesdale and Ridleys of Tynedale ; Castle Hill ; Holy Cross ; Altar tomb of the Ridleys ; Bellister Castle and the Blenkinsops ; Wryden Scarr ; Chapter III. — Continued. PAGE. Sunhill ; Rowport ; Lambley ; Benedictine Convent ; Around the source of the South Tyne ; Murder of Nicholas Featherstonehaugh ; Ancient Ballad ; Featherstone Castle ; A noted Border Family of that name ; Blenkinsop Castle ; A tradition of Bryan Blenkinsop An omen of death ; River Tippal ; Thirlwall Castle ; An eerie picture ; Wall and Vallum ; Gathering cry of the Thirl walls : "A Thirl- wall !" 22 to 41 CHAPTER IV. Irthing Valley : Source of the Irthing ; Tarn- becks ; Gilsland : Gilles-Beuth ; Gospatric ; De Vallibus or Vaux ousts the Lord of Gilsland ; Is slain by De Vaux, who builds the Priory of Lanercost ; Etymology of name Gillesland ; First Meeting of Sir Walter Scott and Miss Carpenter ; The Popping-stone ; Guy Mannering and the Bridal of Triermain ; Mump's Ha' ; Dandie Dinmont ; Meg Merri- lees ; Fighting Charlie ; Stagshawbank Fair ; Evil reputation of Mump's Ha' ; A lonely ride ; Fighting Charlie waylaid — " Too's oot Noo' ; Upper Denton Churchyard ; Tombs of Margaret Carrick and Margaret Teasdale ; Castle of Triermain ; Vaux and Tryermain ; Bewcastle, Ancient Cross ; Bewcastle Thieves ; Sutor Wat and the Captain of Bewcastle ; Hobby Noble ; Burdoswald ; Fine situation ; Earl of Carlisle ; Priory of Lanercost ; Nor- man Gateway ; Edwardian Tower ; Historic Borderers — De Vallibus, Roland de Vaux, Dacres and Howards ; The venerable Vicar ; The Tomb of Roland de Vaux and Humphrey Dacre ; Magnificent Altar Tomb of Lord Dacre ; The First Edward visits Lanercost on three occasions ; Royal Game ; Forest of Inglewood ; The Pope's Legate — Peter, Cardinal of Spain ; Duncan Macdoil captures Thomas and Alexander, brothers of Bruce; Are Executed at Carlisle ; Scottish Raids on Lanercost ; A Woodland Path ; Naworth Castle ; The Gateway ; Arms of the Dacres and Howards ; William Howard, alias Bauld Willie and Belted Will ; Position of Castle and its Defences ; Courtyard and Banqueting Hall ; Rare Portraiture ; Belted Will's Chapel and Li!)rary ; Secret Room ; Stories of Belted Will ; Jedworth's Justice ; The Gallows ; An Aged Oak ; Kindness of the Carlisles ; Brampton; The Moat; River Gelt; How Mill ; The Gloaming ; Hayton ; Castle Hill ; Rich Melody ; Little Corby; Warwick Bridge and Village ; Holme-Eden Church... .. 42 to 56 CHAPTER V. The Eden Country : Wetheral ; A Panting Fiend ; Churchyard ; Ancient Yew ; Sir Richard Salkeld ; The Howard Chapel ; Wetheral Abbey ; Scotsby ; Cumwhinton and Wreay, River Petteril ; Greystoke Park ; Brisco ; A Rural Post Office ; Wetheral Caves ; Wanderings along the Roman Wall and the Old Border Region, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale, Chapter \ .—Continued. page. A Prince turns Hermit ; Mid-day Picture ; Armathwaite ; A Rural Church ; Famous Fishing Place ; Armathwaite Mill ; A Delight- ful Spot ; Lazonby and Kirkoswald ; Saxon and Danish Occupation ; A Feud of Centuries ; The Bridge ; Church of St. Oswald ; Nature's Cathedral Aisle— God's Gothic ; St. Oswald's Well ; A Place of Baptism ; Shields of the Howards, Musgraves, and Baron's Dacre ; Kirkoswald Castle ; Hugh de Morville ; Kirkoswald Village ; Tudor Mansion ; The Raven ; Nunnery Walks ; The Croglin ; Description of the Ravine ; Glory of Sunset ; A sweet Sabbath Morn ; Crossfell , Del- Raffen ; The Fish Poacher ; Glassonby ; Addingham Church ; Saxon Cross ; Old Parish Chest ; A deep-rooted Tradition ; Long Meg ; A Druidical Circle ; Pagan Gods — Woden and Thor ; A Veil of Mystery ; The Smaller Circle ; Hunsanby ; Old Bridge and Village Pound; Winskill ; The Well; A Trysting Spot ; Fairies and Elfin People ; Briggle Beck ; Burial Mounds ; Langwathby ; A Rustic Village ; Large Green ; Shepherd's Inn ; Little and Great Salkeld ; Fine Norman Doorway ; Dick Whittington ; Scenes on the Eden ; Where the Eden and Kamont meet ; A Moonlight Scene ; Edenhall Village ; The Vicarage ; Church of St. Cuthbert ; King Ceowlyn ; Ancient Brasses ; Crests and Shields of the Musgraves ; The Giant Caves ; Sir Lancelot and Tarquin ; Ewan Cesario ; Eden Hall Park ; Fallow Deer ; The Musgraves ; Enormous Cedars; Fairies' Well; " Luck of Eden Hall " ; Legends relating to the Cup ; Ladye Isabel ; The Page-Boy ; A Weird Woman ; The Leech ; Ballads of the " Luck " Drinking Match of Edenhall 57 to 73 CHAPTER VI. An Old World Border : Opening remarks ; Anglo-Norman Strongholds ; Daniel Dover ; Culgaith ; Skirwith Abbey ; Blencarn, Middle- tongue and Mill Rigg Becks ; Knock Fell and Dufton Pike _; The Helm Storm ; A Thing of Straw ; Milburn Forest ; Crossfell, The Penine Range ; Source of the Tees ; The Snout and Wheel ; High Force ; Mickle Fell ; Wynch Bridge ; Bowlees ; Newbiggin ; Middleton ; Hudeshope Beck ; Relics of a Norman Church ; Fair Days ; The Lune ; Laithkirk ; Craigcairn ; Mickleton ; The Tees at Eaglestone Bridge; Romaldskirk; A Typical Village ; Imposing Church ; Effigy of a Fitzhugh ; 'The River Balder ; Cotherstone Castle, Home of the Fitzhughs ; A Long- standing Feud between this Family and the Kerrs ; Traditional Story ; Mabel Kerr ; A Night Attack ; Cotherstone Destroyed ; Story of the Dying Chief ; Return of the Victor to the Valley of the Jed ; Percymyre Castle ; Marwood Chase ; Old Ballad ; Cotherstone Village ; Lartington ; Beautiful Deep-dale 74 to 82 CHAPTER VII. PAGE. Barnard Castle : Fitz-Barnard ; Barnard Baliol; John Baliol; Anthony Bek, Bishop of Durham ; The Nevilles ; Richard III. and Anne of Warwick ; Sir George Bowes ; Robert Carr ; The Vanes ; Ruins ; Magnificent Prospect ; Gallowgate ; Throughgate ; Cromwell ; The King's Head; "Nicholas Nickleby " ; "Master Humphrey's Clock"; "Mr. New- manNoggs"; The Parish Church ; NormanFont and Doorway ; Streatleam Castle ; Staindrop, Large Green ; The Church ; Tomb and Effigies of the Nevilles ; Ralph Neville and his Two Wives ; Henry, 5th Earl of Westmoreland ; Duke of Cleveland ; King Canute ; Raby, a Mediaeval Castle ; The Nevilles ; Norman Chivalry ; Richard Neville, King-Maker ; Middlehamand Brancepeth, see Footnote, page 86 — Power of the King-Maker ; Remarkable Men and Memorable Deeds; Battle of Neville's Cross ; Aymer de Neville ; Robert Neville, Peacock of the North ; Downfall of the Family ; Rising of the North ; Old Richard Norton An ill-fated Banner ; Old Ballad ; Langley Dale; Winstonon-Tees ; Gainford ; An Old World Border Line ; Norman Church ; The Saxon Structure built by Egfred ; Relics, etc.; Base of Ancient Cross ; Tudor AJanor House ; The Colum.baries ; St. Lawrence Chapel ; Old Richmond; Bereford; Robert-de-Bereford; Celtic Dyke and Rampart, Memorials of Roman Occupation; Ovington; Ulfand the Ulmington Family ; Charming Green and Maypole ; Bar- ningham ; Cat Whipping ; Wycliflfe ; Home of John Wyclifife the Reformer ; Picturesque Church ; Interesting Rectory ; Portrait of the Reformer by Sir Antonio Moore ; T he Old Mill ; The Ashes of the Reformer ; Rokeby ; Greta Bridge ; Morrit Arms ; Ancient Font ; Brignall Banks ; Guy Denziel ; The George ; Mortham's Tomb, Tees Marble ; Immense Elm Trees ; Mortham's Tower, Legends, etc. ; Bertram's Cave ; Dairy Bridge ; Meeting of Greta and Tees ; Hallowed Ground ; "The Felon Sow of Rokeby " ; Ralph de Rokeby ; Friar Middleton ; Peter Dale ; Watling Street ; Margery of Rokeby ; Friar Theobald captures the Sow ; A Noble Victory ; Rejoicing at Richmond ; Marble Bed of the Tees ; Churning of Centuries ; A Charming Spring Day ; Eggleston Abbey ; The Hermit ; Thomas Rokeby ; Fairy Thorsgill ; Thor, the Viking; The Abbey's Dedication; " Kyrie Eleison"; "Gloria in Excelsis " ; " 'i he Credo " ; " Agnus Dei " ; " Mea Culpa " ; The Benediction ; The Vespers ; Barbaric Splendour and Pageantry ; The Nevilles, the Percys, the Fitz-Hughs, Bowes and Rokebys ; A Favourite Sketching Ground ; Monk's Mill ; Barnard Castle and Bowes Museum ; Watling Street ; Roman Legions ; An Old Coach Road ; Bowes, Description ; Dotheboys Hall; "Nicholas Nickleby"; Stainmoor ; Unicorn Inn ; Old Coaching House ; The Interior of the Inn ; A Gossip Contents. IX. Chapter VII. — Continued. PAGE. with the Villagers; Widow Railton ; "The George " ; Phantoms of the Past ; Charles Dickens ; Pembroke College and Bowes Grammar School ; A Parish Meeting ;. The Debate ; Thirsty Orators ; Bowes Church ; Roman and Norman Relics ; South Doorway ; Story of Edwin and Emma ; A Pattern of True Love ; Bowes Castle ; Alan of Brittany ; Roman Station ; Mill on the Greta ; Dotheboys Hall ; Squeers ; Nicholas Nickleby ; Stainmoor ; A Wild Walk ; Resort of Highwaymen ; God's Bridge; Toll Bar; Spittal-on-the-Moor; Ancient Hostel ; Pack Horse Days ; Knight Templar ; Roi, or Rere Cross ; Cross of Kings ; Penine Range ; Nine Standards ; Mallerstang ; Wild Boars Fell ; Ghosts and Warlock ; A Legend of Stainmoor ; Fitz- Barnard ; The Saxon Chieftain ; The Headless Rider ; The Key of Stainmoor ; *' Slip Inn " ; Church Bells 83 to 107 CHAPTER VIIL Brough and Kirkby Stephen District : Brough — Position, Church, and Castle ; Roman Station of " Veterte " ; Antique Memorial Slab; Brough Fair; Popular Pastimes; " Stead- man's"; Wrestling; Tommy Wilkinson;"Black's me Neame"; Brough, Sowerby, andBelahVale; The Husbandman ; Winton ; Primitive Flail ; Hartley Village ; A Delightful Valley ; Hartley Castle ; The Musgraves ; De Harclas ; Sir Andrew de Harcla ; Death on the Scaffold ; Kirkby Stephen ; Market Day ; Noble Church ; Effigies of the Musgraves and Whartons ; Lord Wharton and his Two Wives ; Helaugh Church in the Ainsty of York ; The Poet Close ; Stenkrith ; Mallerstang ; Wild Boar's Fell; Last Boar Slain; Pendragon Castle; Uther Pendragon ; King Arthur ; Merlin the Bard ; The Old Keep ; Mouldering Relics ; A Wild Evening; Howling Tempest ; Old Border Days ; Macbeth ; Wild Men of Galloway ; Crossby Garrett ; Church and Cross ; Hillbeck Hall ; Warcop ; Dr. Fell's Dog ; Magnificent Sunset ; Amber Isles; A Storied Sea 108 to 115 CHAPTER IX. Appleby : Charming Appearance of the Town ; Capital of Westmoreland; A place of Antiquity; Countess of Pembroke ; Castle Hill ; " Doom- gate Syke " ; Early History ; The Town destroyed by the Scots ; A Loyal Countess ; The Nest of all Traitors ; Grim Oliver ; The Little Mayor of Appleby ; James II. and the Charters ; Story of Annie Clifford ; " Your Manshallnot Stand!";Church ofSt. Lawrence; Vault of the Cliffords ; Effigies of Lady Annie and her Mother ; Armorial Bearings ; The Clifford Tombs at Skipton ; Caesar's Tower ; Ancient Earthworks ; The Mansion ; Magnifi- cent Suit of Armour ; Scene from the Battlements ; Crackenthorpe ; The Machells; Malus Colutus ; Long Marton ; Kirkbythore ; Chapter IX. — Continued. page. Roman Antiquities ; Temple Sowerby ; Knight Templars ; A May-day Custom, and a Bishop of Carlisle ; Footnote, page 121 — The Templars ' 116 to 121 CHAPTER X. Vale of the Lovvther : The River Lowther ; The Ruins of Shap Abbey ; A Beautiful Vale ; Hawes Water ; Naddle Forest ; Kidsty Pike ; Hater Fell ; Bampton Moors ; Moor Divock ; Stone Circles ; Bells of Bampton ; Bellowing of Stags ; Lowther Park ; Helton and Ask- ham; Kentmere ; High Street ; Mardale Green; Dun Bull ; Troutbeck ; Patterdale ; Low Hart- sope ; Hayes Water ; Kirkstone Pass ; Stony Cove ; Blea Tarn ; Briggendale ; Kidsty Pike ; " Wha's There?" ; A Wild Tramp ; Sublime Phases of Natuie; "Ah don't naw wheer tba puts thee een " ; Askham ; An officious Game Watcher ; Threatened Arrest ; Askham Hall; Thomas Sandford, Esq.; Askham Church ; Lowther Park ; Red Deer ; Lowther Castle and Church ; Memorials of the Family Etymology of the Name ; Description of Castle ; Sir Hugh de Lowther ; Sir Richard Lowther ; Queen Mary ; Sir John Lowther ; De Quincey's remarks on the character of Sir James ; His Ghost ; See Footnote, page 130 — Love Story of Sir James ; Batile of Clifton Moor ; Village of Clifton ; Church of St. Cuthbert ; William de Wybergh ; Clifion Peel ; Brougham Hall and Park ; Church of St. Wilfred ; Ruins of Brougham Castle ; Site of Roman Camp ; The Vetteriponts and Cliffords ; Roger de Clifford ; Edward Baliol; A Famous Chase ; Harts-Horn Tree ; Saint Ninian; Baptism in the Eamont; Nine Churches; Penrith ; Beauty of Position, Derivation ; An Ancient British Kingdom ; Destroyed by the Caledonians ; A Scotch Town ; Burnt by the Scots ; The Pretender's Army passes through Penrith ; Giant's Grave and Giant's Thumb ; Ewen Csesarius, a Mighty Hunter ; Church of St. Andrew ; Richard Plantagenet and Cicely Neville ; Ancient Chest; Eamont Bridge ; King Arthur's Round Table ; Mayborough ; Sir Lancelot and Tarquin ; Paladin Rinaldo ; Yanwath Hall : a Seat of the Threlkelds ; Barton Church : a place of Refuge ; Old Manor House ; Dalemain Hall aud Park ; Dacre Castle : a Meeting Place of Kings ; Battle of Brunnan- burgh — terrible retribution ; The Church : Effigy of Lord Dacre, and Stone Figures of Bears ; The Eamont ; Pooley Bridge; Charming Scenery ; An Evening Picture ; Swarth Fell — Moonlight ; Ulleswater ; Varied Effects ; Sty- barrow Crag ; A Fairy Cove ; Lyulph's Tower ; Our Island Home ; The Encampment; Patterdale Hotel ; Canadian Boat Song ; Birk Fell ; The Heron ; Brother's Waters ; Grisdale ; Sabbath Bells ; Airey Force ; Aira Beck ; Miss Wordsworth's Poem : " The Daffodils"; Sir Eglamore and Emma — A Wanderings along the Roman Wall and the Old Border Region, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. Chapter X. — Continued, page. Legend of Lyulph's Tower ; Dockrey ; Matterdale ; Wanthwaite ; TheGlendermakin; Threlkeld; Blencathra ; A Primitive Dale's Church; Thorgell, the Viking; "Priest's Acre " ; St. Kentygern and Thenew, his Mother ; Doomed to Death ; Traprain Law ; A Miracle ; Birth of St. Kentygern ; The Foster-Father ; A Faithful Missionary — Journeys South ; Uprears the Cross at Threl- keld ; A Strange Assembly ; Pagan Worship ; Druidical Circle ; St. Herbert of Derwent- water ; Memorial to Celebrated Hunters ; ' 'John Crozier's Tally Ho !" ; Sounds of Revelry; The Glendermaken ; Threlkeld Hall ; The Shepherd Lord ; The Rival Houses of Lan- caster and York United ; Anne St. John of Bletsoe ; Scales ; The Sun Inn ; Isaac and Betty Hutchinson ; Motherby and Penruddock; Greystoke ; Blencow Hall ; Ascent of Blen- cathra ; Astonishing Views ; A Grey Mantle of Mist ; Poetry by Byron and Scott ; Scales Tarn ; Vale of St. John ; Evening Scene ; Linthwaite ; Wanthwaite Crag and White Pike ; St. John's Beck ; Chapel of St. John ; Raven's Crag and Castle Rock ; Bridal of Triermain ; Vale of Legburthwater ; Solemn Calm ; The Moaning of Streams ; A Pagan Temple ; Wescow ; A Day of Rest ; Sublime Scenery ; Nature's Melody ; Lonscale Valley ; The Glenderattera ; A Primitive Bridge ; Skiddaw House ; The Vale of Keswick ; Arcadia ; Applethwaite and Mill-beck ; Charming Pictures ; An Earthly Paradise ; Crossthwaite Church ; Saint Herbert ; Tomb of Robert Southey, Poet Laureate ; His Effigy ; Tomb and Figures of the Derwentwaters ; Brasses to the Memory of Sir John Ratcliffe and his wife Alicia ; Keswick School of Industrial Art ; Ann's Banks Pencil Manu- factory ; Greta Hall, the Home of Coleridge ; The Greta ; Lady Bankes ; Market Hall and Museum ,. ... ... ... 122 to 1 60 CHAPTER XL Climbs in Lakeland : The Lake District the Playground of England ; English Training Ground for Mountaineers ; Guide Books and Articles ; " Climbing Notes " Wasdale Head ; Threatened Improvements ; Ea<5ter at Was- dale Head ; Helvellyn and the Red Tarn in Winter ; The Striding Edge ; Derwentwater, Borrowdale, and Sty Head Pass to Wasdale ; Tyson's Hotel the English " Monte Rosa " ; Pillar Rock of Ennerdale ; The Great North Climb ; Animated Morning Scene at the Hotel ; Recent Accidents ; 1 he Pulpit Rock ; The Mickledore Ridge; The Broad Stand; Moss Ghyll, Steep Ghyll, Deep Ghyll, and Lord's Rake ; Ascent of Scafell by the Broad Stand ; The Pinnacle Nose Route ; Ascent of Moss Ghyll ; The Napes Needle and Ridge ; Details of Ascent ; Rossett Ghyll ; New Climbs nearly exhausted ; A Note of Warn- ing 161 to 169 Axle of the The Knoll ; Dr. Arnold ; CHAPTER XII. PAGE. Keswick to Windermere : An Enjoyable Drive ; Castle Rigg ; Delightful Prospect ; "What a Beautiful Kame!"; Thirlmere; Castle Rock ; Helvellyn ; King's Head ; Thirlspot ; A Meeting Place of the Poets ; "Rock of Names"; Armboth Hall ; Cherry Tree Public House ; The Shores of Thirlmere ; Nag's Head, Wytheburn ; The Lowly Church ; A Goose Run ; Helm Crag ; Dunmail Raise ; Last King of Cumbria; See footnote, page 172 : The Chase ; Easdale Tarn ; Easdale Beck ; Emma's Dell ; The " Swan " ; Allen Bank ; De Quincey and Christopher North : Story of the Former ; Dove Cottage ; Description by De Quincey ; A Sonnet — Wordsworth ; Grasmere — Jewel of Lake- land ; Quaint Lych-gate ; Poem ; The Churchyard ; At the Graves of William Words- worth and Hartley Coleridge ; Church of St. Oswald ; The Interior ; River Rothay ; Poem by VA^'ilson ; Grasmere Lake ; A Dreamland of the Soul ; The Wishing Gate ; White Moss Common ; Ambleside ; The Wheel of Beauty ; Stock Ghyll ; Harriet Martin eau ; Fox How ; Dove's Nest; Mrs. Hemans; See footnote, pages 176 and 177 — Rush Bearing, Old Customs, etc. ; Loughrigg Fell ; Rydal Mount ; Aroma of Nature ; JVi elody of Cascades ; Words- worth's Home ; Poems by Mrs. Hemans and Mrs Sigourney ... ... ... 170 to 179 CHAPTER XII. Through the Langdales, up Rossett Ghyll, and over Esk Hause to Borrowdale : Red Bank ; The Vale of Grasmere ; See foot- note, page 180 ; Elterwater ; "Tracking the Langdales" ; Great Langdale ; Charming Scenery ; River Brathay ; See footnote, page 181 — Langdale Chapel ; Little Langdale Tarn ; Blea Tarn ; Langdale Pikes ; " The Excursion "; A Moorland Farm ; Dungeon Ghyll ; A Natural Bridge ; Stickle Tarn ; Hell Ghyll, Crinkle, and Rossett Ghyll ; Bow- fell ; Mickledon Ridge ; Reign of Chaos ; F.sk Hause ; Angle and Sprinkling Tarn ; A Wild Scene ; Footnote, pages 184 — 185 — Lost on Esk Hause ; Great End and Great Gable ; Wasdale ; The Solway ; A Lonely Tarn ; Solitude of Mountains ; Huge Amphi- theatre; The Wild Child of the Hills; A Nesting Place of Eagles : Source of the Der- went ; Seathwaite ; Stonethwaite ; Dale Head Rock ; Langstrath Dale ; Eagle Crag ; High Raise ; Glaramara ; Rosthwaite Church and Village ; Borrowdale ; A Veritable Picture Gallery ; Wild Vegetation ; A Lovely River ; In the "Jaws of Borrowdale" ; An Autumn Picture ; Bowder Stone ; The hamlet of Grange ; Castle Crag ; A Roman Fort ; John de Derwentwater ; Falls of Lodore ; Wallow Crag : Countess of Derwentwater ; lodore Hotel; A Golden Mirror; Point of Vantage ; Harmonious Blending of Colour ; Contents. XI. Chapter XII. — Conti)iued. page. Vale of the Derwent ; Watendlath ; Primitive Bridge ; Vale of Newlands ; Portinscale ; Delightful Woods ; A Magnificent Picture ; Little Town ; A INIodest Church ; The Mines ; Newland Hotel ; Keskadale Hawes ; Causey Pike ; Grassmoor and Robinson ; A weird Night Scene ... ... ... i8o to 189 CHAPTER XIII. Bassenthwaite, Cockermouth, and down THE Vale of Lortox to Loweswater, Crummock, and Buttermere : Bassen- thwaite ; Hollin's ; Jane Davidson : "An owd House"; Where the Sparrows Nest and Chatter ; Memory Pictures ; Armathwaite Hall ; Castle Inn ; Bothal ; Aspatria ; Ouse Bridge ; A Sweet Landscape ; The Derwent ; Workington ; Queen Mary ; Sir Henry Cur- wen ; A Poem by Wordsworth ; Embleton ; Cockermouth ; The Castle, Gateway, and Tower ; Arms and Badges ; Birthplace of William Wordsworth ; Poems to a Butterfly and the Sparrow's Nest ; Sister Emmeline ; The Vale of Lorton ; Pastoral Scenery ; Village of Lorton ; '^l he Veteran ; Lorton Church ; Old Yew Tree, " Pride of Lorton Vale " ; Its Proposed Destruc- tion ; Melbreak, Red Pike, and High Stile ; Gillerthwaite ; A Quaint Post Office ; Loweswater ; Looking towards the Solway ; Village of Lamplough ; Blake Fell ; River Maron ; Picturesque Mill, Church, and Vicarage; Lamplough Hall ; John Lamp- lough ; Loweswater Church ; Rev. Thomas Cowper ; A Sad Catastrophe ; "The Kirk- stile " Inn ; Crummock Water ; Stern Grandeur ; vScale Force ; River Cocker ; Red Pike ; Buttermere Village ; A Lowly Church ; Poetry ; Mary Robinson ; The Beauty of Buttermere becomes the wife of a vile Impostor ; His Death on the Gallows : Sour Milk Ghyll ; Burtness Tarn ; The Eagle's Eyrie ; Buttermere Lake ; Gates- garth ; A Famous Sheep Farm ; Prize Cards ; Edward Nelson ; Honister Pass ; A Stormy Scene ; Old Border Days ; Raid by the Graemes ; A Skirmish in the Pass ; The Younger Graeme is Slain ; A Cairn Raised over the Corpse ; The Storm Fiend ; Cross to the Memory of F. M. ... ... ... 190 to 200 CHAPTER XIV. Over Scarf Gap and Black Sail to Wasdale : Impressive Scenes ; Lake and Mountains as seen from Scarf Gap ; The Backbone of an Old World : Haystack and High Crag ; Ennerdale ; The Liza ; Black Sail ; Magnifi- cent Vistas; The Jaws of Mosedale; Kirk Fell, Yewbarrow, and Great Gable; Wasdale Head ; An Oasis in the Desert of Hills ; Rugged Mountain Paths ; Sty Head Pass ; A Small Church ; See footnote, page 205 ; Wasdale Green ; Ancient Foundation ; Diocletian Per- Chapter YAN .— Co7itmued. PAGE. secution ; West Britons Ranic Cross ; Ling Mell " King o' Wasdale " John of Wasdale; The ; Scottish Ritual ; Auld Will Ritson ; Maister Wilson Plantagenet Kings Elizabeth Wasdale ; A Vast Array of Shoes Mountain Climbing ; The Visitors' Book Some Effusions of Tourists ; Burnmoor Tarn Wastwater, "The Lake of Solitude "; Impres- sions ; Screes ; A Night Picture ; The Heron ; The Moorland Stream ; Wasdale Hall; A Strik- ing Mass of Peaks ; Netherwastdale ; A Quiet Nook ; Church Antiquities ; The Gonsons ; Gosforth Church and Cross ; Chapel Croft ; "Holy Wells"; Seascale ; Old Lanes and Byways ; Ancient Sawmill ; Picturesque Bridge ; Village of Boot ; The Sports ; Scenery of Eskdale ; Primitive Homesteads ; Miniature Railroad ; An Obliging Guard ; A Solitary Night's Walk ; The Glow-worms ; Muncaster Hall ; Roman Camp and Villa ; Evclin, a British Prince ; The Solway Shore ; The Rivers Esk and Mite ; Mun- caster Church ; Runic Cross ; Memorial to the Penyngtons ; " Ring Harrye at Molcastre " ; Ravenglass, formerly a Re- sort of Smugglers ; VVaberthwaite and the Whyberghs : Ancient Cross ; A Secluded Spot ; The Stepping Stones, &c. ; Over Birker and Ulpha Moors to the Vale of the Duddon 201 to 212 CHAPTER XV. The Vale of the Duddon, Coniston, and Windermere: Ulpha Kirk ; A Rural Post Ofiice ; The Lych Gate ; A Blind Preacher ; " Wha's comin' Noo ?"; The River Duddon ; Up on the Fells; Robert Dawson ; Between Ulpha Kirk and Broughton Sands ; Seath- waite ; A Wonderful Clergyman and Unique Factotum ; The Stepping Stones ; " The Fairy Chasm "; Cockley Bridge ; Contour of the Pikes ; Windings of the Duddon ; Source of the Duddon in Wrynose ; The Three-shire Stone ; Vale of Tilberthwaite ; Fairy Dells Lovely Vistas; Wetherlam "Old Man'" Coniston Lake ; Interesting Architecture Brant wood ; John Ruskin ; Giants in Litera- ture ; Dow Crag ; Yewdale ; Glen Mary ; Raven's Crag ; Hawkshead ; Antique Town ; Wordsworth's Schooldays ; Dame Tyson's Cottage ; Flag Street ; Reminiscences of the Poet ; The Old Grammar School and Parish Church ; Esthwaite Water ; The Huge Peak of Wetherlam ; "The Prelude"; Sawrey; Scotch Gate (Way) ; Windermere Ferry; Ferry Hotel ; "The Crier of Claife"; The Legend ; Crier Quarry and Crier Wood ; Windermere Lake; Impressions, &c.; Orrest Head ; Enchanting Prospect ; Elleray, the Home of Wilson ; Burial of James Hogg ; Dr. Russell ; See footnote, page 220 — Edinburgh Reviewers ; Calgarth Hall ; Belle Isle ; The Philipsons ; Gruesome Ghost Legend ; Armboth Flail ; Dr. Gibson ; Story in Verse ; Story of the Skulls ; Footnote, Wanderings along the Roman Wall a7id the Old Border Region, Lakeland, and RibbUsdale, Chapter Y>M . — Continued. PAGE. page 221 — Major Philipson and Colonel Briggs ; Bowness and Windermere ; Road to Kendal ; Gilpin Beck ; Crook ; Richard de Gylpin ; Antiquity of the Family ; A Ferocious Wild Boar ; Scout Scar and Underbarrow ; A Terrific Fight ; De Gylpin kills the Boar ; Scaleby Castle ; Presented with the Manor of Kent- mere ; Kentmere Hall ; Bernard Gylpin, Apostle of the North ; Hugh Hird, the Trout- beck Giant ; His Great Strength; Carries a Message to the King ; " The Sunny Side of a Wether "; A Good Dinner ; See footnote, page 225— Rab Ha', of Glasgow ; The Vale of the Kent ; Kendal ; The Castle ; The Moat ; Catherine Parr, a Queen of the 8th Henry ; Kent-dale Archers at Flodden ; Poetry : Flemish Weavers ; John Kemp ; The Kendal Cloth Trade ; Parish Church of Kendal ; Remarkable Interior ; Chapels and Tombs of the Parrs, Bellinghams, and Stricklands ; Poetry ; Ancient Plelmet ; Scene in the Church ; Robin the Devil Rides into the Church ; Loses his Helmet ; Scott's " Rokeby " ; "Bertram of Rising- ham " ; Kirkby Lonsdale ; The River Lune ; A Charming Valley ; The Town ; Commanding Situation ; Parish Church ; Norman Architecture ; Edward the Con- fessor ; Westminster ; Kirkby Lonsdale Bridge ; Legend of its Construction ; The Devil's Neck Collar : Lower Lunedale 213 10230 CHAPTER XVL High Ribblesdale : Horton ; Pen-y-ghent ; The Ascent ; Hull Pot ; Hunt Pot ; The View Jackdaw Hole ; High Birkwith ; Old lug Calf Hole ; God's Bridge ; Brow Gill Head Moughton ; Crummack Dale ; Norber Ingleborough ; Gaping Ghyll ; The Descent The Cavern ; Ribblehead ; Chapel- le-Dale Whernside ; Kingsdale ; Rowten Pot ; Sel- side ; Alum Pot ; Long Churn ; Ling Gill ; Thornes Gill ; Katnot Hole ... ... 231 to 243 CHAPTER XVn. From Penyghent to Pendle Hill : Wild Tract of Hill Country A Stormy CHAl'TEli XVn. — Continued. PAGE. October Night ; The Golden Lion ; Clap- ham Fair ; Benighted Farmers ; Original Characters ; Horlon Church ; Its Primi- tive Features ; General Characteristics ; The Lych Gates ; Douk Gill ; The Hipping Stones ; Giant's Graves ; Penyghent ; Description of the Surrounding Scenery from the Summit ; A Furious Storm ; Hull and Hunt Pots ; Death Traps ; Stud Fold ; Sherwood House ; Stainforth ; Beautiful Ravines ; Catterick Force ; Craven Fault ; Stackhouse ; Langcliffe Destroyed by Randolph and Douglas ; Old Elm Tree ; Village Politi- cians ; Middle Row; Sign of the "Naked Woman"; Settle, Capital of Upper Ribbles- dale ; Charming Situation ; Caslleberg Rock; A Sunset Picture; " Setel " (Old Saxon) ; Pennant ; The Poet Gray ; Mar- ket Square ; The Shambles ; The Folly ; Victoria Cave ; The Ebbing and Flowing Well ; Giggleswick ; Pastoral Richness ; Dis- tant Peep of Penyghent ; Parish Church ; Old Alms Box ; Reading Desk and Pulpit ; Effigy of Sir Richard Tempest ; Mr. Chap- man and Rowland Ingram ; The Black Bull ; Giggleswick Schools ; Stone Cro.«s ; Stocks and Lych Gate ; Charnnng Old - World Village ; Rathmell ; Story of " Tommy Jooan- son"; Long Preston ; Langpreston Peggy; Preston and Settle INToors ; Hellifield Peel ; The Hamertons ; Windings of the Kibble ; Stockbeck ; Gisburn Hall ; Lord Ribblesdale; Ancient Bridge and Mill; Devices of the Percys and Lucies ; Legend of Robin Hood and Guy of Gisburn ; Wild Cattle ; Town of Gisburn ; Bolton Hall ; .William Pudsey's Silver IMines ; Flis Coinage of Silver ; A Marked Man ; Becomes an Outlaw ; Local Elves, Lob and Michil ; " Aithera Ploile''; Legend of the Magical Bit ; His Wanton Grey Leaps Rainsber Scaur ; Pardoned by Elizabeth ; Salley Abbey ; Clithero ; Great Mitton and Mitton Hall ; The Meeting of the Hodder and Ribble ; Stonyhurst College ; Whalley Abbey ; Saxon Crosses; Ribchester ; A Roman City ; Remarks by Leland ; Walton- le-Dale; Preston; Lytham ... ... 244 to 256 Adieu. ER RATA Page 2 — " Lugunallum " should read " Luguvallium " in the first line. ,, 36 — "Stanard de Peel " should be " Stanward le Peel." Pages 33 & 34— " Cholleford " should read " Chollerford." Page 59 — Fifteen lines down, " Wrea," should read "Wreay." ,, 70 — Last line in verse should read, " To (sit) in the roses and hear the birds sing. ,, 185 — "Langsbrath" should be " Langstrath." CHAPTER I. -« m HH^H ^^^^^^^H^^^sSi^fa^^ K'^^i^ ^'*-,n» ^ ^, ♦- " ^^^ ^^^■IBP I^^^HH^^^^^^H ' -^ ^^M hI^RB ^m^^^^^^^^^i^^^^ -- 1 1 I 1 ■kHH^^i^Hh^hm Crag Lough from the west. gibson. gateways. The width of these ruts, 4ft. 6in., is precisely the same as those to be seen in the streets of Pompeii. The narrow Pompeian streets surprised me not a little, and the high stepping-stones seemed to block vehicular traffic entirely. Probably their horses were inferior in size to our modern breed. It is noteworthy that this measurement exactly agrees with the gauge of the modern railway track. The Wall on leaving the station is nearly eight feet wide, and at the bottom of the valley is broken by a gap with large stones on each side, and to the south there are traces of guard-rooms. This was, no doubt, a more convenient entrance to the camp and town on the hill above, or it may have given egress to the amphitheatre The Roman Wall. 19 supposed to have existed on the site of a hollow immediately to the north of this lower portal. Up to the small plantation the Wall is good, then it disappears ; but by heaps of rubble it may be followed to Sewingshields. It is an interesting variation to walk along the foot oi the basaltic cliffs from Sewingshields to Borcovicus. The additional security obtained by leading the Wall to the north, along the verge of the precipices, is obviously apparent. Those who can spare the time will be amply repaid for the extra exertion. With the exception of the Chesters the most interesting, and certainly the wildest part of the Wall, is now left behind. Undulating hillocks succeed, steep towards the north, then a recently excavated mile-castle, with gateway and guard-rooms very plain. Several more castles were indi- cated by grassy mounds, and at Carrow we stopped to examine Proco- litia, on the south side of the present high-road. Carrow- burgh is a dreary- looking station, with grass - grown ram- parts, and the ruins of the gateways plainly appearing. The antiquarian knowledge of a local farmer led him, in a season of drought, to search here for water, and he was rewarded by the discovery of the ancient Roman well, which on examination yielded a remarkable quantity of coins, altars, carved stones, Roman pearls, etc. A little further on, and about a mile from Walwick, there are some fine pieces of the Wall and ditch. In one instance the former is over eight feet high, and remarkably solid and strong. The top is covered with a thick growth of bushes. The change in the character of the scenery is now very noticeable. Cultivated fields and thick leafy woods replace the wild, rugged moorland. After passing Walwick, at the bottom of the hill Chesters is reached, at one time the residence of the late Mr. C2 Thirlwall Castle. EDMUND BOGG. 20 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. John Clayton, who has done more than any other man to preserve and make known the reUcs of the finest monument of the Roman occupation of Britain. In the road going down the hill to the entrance the foundations of the Wall are very clear in the present high-road. Permission being readily and courteously granted, we examined the numerous altars, inscribed stones, ear-rings, bones, pieces of pottery, etc., behind the house, and then proceeded to the park in front to inspect the remains of the Roman Cilurnum, which covered an area of five and a quarter acres, coming next to Amboglanna in size. The ruins are nearly all exposed and free from earth accumulations, and present the most perfect examples of the camp buildings of the larger Roman stations. The Forum occupied the centre of the camp, and at the south end of the enclosure is a vaulted cham- ber in good pre- servation, which is supposed to have been the aerariuni, or treasury of the station. Near the centre of the east- ern wall was the praetorium, or general's quarters. The hypocaust, blackened by smoke, and form- erly yielding quan- tities of soot, is in an almost perfect state. The slabs of stone which formed the floors of the rooms are in position. Close to the river a series of seven-arched niches, in good preservation, is noteworthy. What they were intended for is a matter of conjecture. At this point, facing the middle of the station, the North Tyne was crossed by a bridge of considerable size, as is evinced by the remains of the buttresses on the banks, and the piers in the river bed. On the left bank the river has receded, and a large mound of earth intervenes between the buttress and the stream. The stones are large and neatly fashioned, retaining their original positions. The lewis holes and grooves for the iron binders are clearly defined. One curious piece of stone, over a yard long, has the appearance of an The Seven Niches, Chesiers. The Roman Wall. 2\ axle-tree, with the holes round the centre. When the bridge was perfect it must have been a noble example of architectural skill. Tired, yet thoroughly pleased with our day, we turned into the " George," a comfortable hostelry facing the lovely river. Between ChoUerford and Newcastle few obvious traces of the Wall are to be seen. Here and there the high-road passes directly over the foundation stones. This is especially noticeable before reaching the Errington Arms, and after heavy rain the stones are exceedingly plain. At Heddon-on-the-Wall a long strip covered with a thorn hedge appears on the right of the road, and just over the hill there is another piece nearly four feet high, with the remains of a mile-castle. The winding Tyne is now seen far away to the south-east, and a canopy of smoke indicates the proximity of a large industrial centre. At Dene House, two miles past Heddon, in the corner of a garden close to the road, is a heap of stones which have formed the columns of the gates of a mile-castle. Next, at Denton Burn, there are two irregular mounds between three and four feet high, surrounded by a wooden railing. Of course, in addition to the remains enumerated in this brief outline, there are many less conspicuous which the keen antiquarian has disclosed, and to those who wish to have an exhaustive account of these I would suggest a study of Dr. Bruce's large work, and for actual use on the walk the Wallet Book. Even at Wallsend traces still linger. A few general remarks must terminate this account. Each of the stations was occupied by a number of soldiers varying from 600 to 1,000, so that the whole garrison, consisting of legions of various nationalities, was probably about 12,000 In many places along the Wall specimens of rough inscriptions still linger, notably at the quarries on Fallowfield Fell, near ChoUerford, at Coome Crag, and at the Written Crag, in the glen of the River Gelt, near Brampton. As will be gathered from the foregoing remarks the central portion is in the most perfect preservation, and this it undoubtedly owes to its wild and isolated situation. Thanks to the exertions of the Earl of Carlisle, the late Mr. John Clayton, and others, the mutilation of the Wall has almost ceased, and it is to be sincerely hoped that what remains of this valuable relic will be preserved from the destructive propensities of the tripping vandal and the quarrying of the immediate inhabitants, ignorant of its antiquarian importance. Finally, a new era may be said to have opened for the Roman Wall, and now, late in the nineteenth century, careful and indefatigable attention is being devoted to its study and preservation, notably by the Society of Antiquaries of Newcastle-on-Tyne, whose journals contain notes on the most recent excavations, and the consequent theories advanced. G. T. L. CHAPTER III. -(^ HEXHAM. K^ ATHER more than twelve centuries ago, a remarkable gathering of monks and artificers might have been witnessed in a wild, romantic spot at the slope of hills which rise in picturesque undulation, a mile or so below where the North and South Tyne unite into one broadly flowing river, at the time we speak of winding through a charming forest vale, uncon- taminated by manufactories. At the head of that company was Bishop Wilfred, who had just returned from a pilgrimage to Rome, \vhere he had passed through a severe training, both ecclesiastical and monastic, his mind filled with ambitious projects and holy zeal to uprear a splendid abbey, worthy of the ecclesiastical architecture of Rome. The Abbey, when complete, is said to have been, both in grandeur of design and exquisite in finish and detail, the most magnificent building in Britain, or even west of the Alps, and as such remained until early in the ninth century, when the Northmen began to ravage the country, and swooped down Tynedale devastated Hexhamshire, committing frightful outrages, and leaving the town and abbey a mass of blackened ruins. This was in the time of Bishop Tilfrith, who fled affrio-hted from the terrible atrocities committed by the Danes, and never returned ; and from Hexham. n that period Hexham ceased to form a separate bishopric, after a rule of 136 years. It was consecrated in 6^%, and its first Bishop was Eata, Tilfrith being the last, in 814. The city of Hexham, at this early period, according to the history of Prior Richard, who dwelt here in the twelfth century, was ample and magnificent, as the vestiges of antiquity testify, for, apart from the abbey, St. Wilfred also built two other churches, St. Mary's and St. Peter's. Relics of the former still remain ; of the latter not a vestige. 'Tis said that after the advent of the Danes, churches and houses lay ruined and roofless, and not a single human being was left to mourn over the havoc and desolation, and thus it remained for upwards of two hundred years, until Thomas, the second Archbishop of York, in 11 13, restored part of the beautiful fabric, when it became a Monastery of Augustine canons. A few rare and antique relics of Wilfred's time still remain in the present abbey church, and also others of a people who dwelt here long anterior to the Saxon. Wilfred's career was a stormy and eventful one, for he was ever a stickler for the supremacy of, and obedience to, the power and usages of the Roman Church. At Rome he was a student under Boniface, the Archdeacon ; he daily visited the tombs ^ ^''^ "' ^"^^""• of the martyrs, and gathered together relics of the saints. Twice or thrice he was driven from his bishopric, and after a life of almost continual strife and wandering, seeking redress from the Church of Rome, he died at a good old age, at Oundle, in Northamptonshire (709). Acca, the companion and friend of Wilfred, was his successor to the bishopric. He was an accomplished scholar and singer, having been educated at Rome, where he was so charmed with the church music that he engaged an Italian (probably the first music master who had been brought to Britain). This man taught both the choir of Canterbury and Hexham to sing most heavenly. At the latter place Bishop Acca took the lead in the choir. It was he who gilded the walls of the cathedral with silver and gold, and added rich coverings to the altar, and beautiful candlesticks to illume the building. Bede the Venerable EDMUND BOGG. 24 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. loved him dearly, and he tells us that he was a most heavenly man, a great soul, and a guardian angel over all good men. That holy. God-fearing man, St. John of Beverley, v^hose saintly character stands out so bright and luminous on the pages of history, and adds a halo of sanctity to it, was also associated with this place. Whilst here he daily retired to pray into a little oratory, or cell, a mile and a half away, on the north side of the river, still known as " St. John's Lee." The Venerable Bede was one of his disciples. John of Hexham and Prior Richard, two celebrated historians, were natives of this place. The memorable battle of Hexham, fought between the Lan- castrians and Yorkists (1464), took place along the ridge of the hill, just on the outskirts of the town. Battle Hill, the name of a street leading on to the battle-field, is a memento of that fight, so fatal to the cause of the Lancastrians. "King Henry," says Hall, "was the best horseman of his company that day, for he fled so fast that no one could overtake him, yet so closely was he pursued that three of his body-guard, with their horses trapped in blue velvet, were captured, one of them wearing the unfortunate monarch's cap of state, called a boycocket, embroidered with two crowns of gold, and orna- Roman Altar. q'^jon. meuted with pearls. Some two miles south is the most beautiful ravine called Deepdene. Hidden in the deep recesses of this glen, overhung by sandstone banks and waving branch and luxuriant foliage, is Queen Margaret's Cave, where she and her child took refuge after the battle so disastrous to her cause ; and here also, when wandering forlorn in the woods, she was met by the robbers, one of whom so nobly befriended her. This incident is well known to all readers of English history, and as there is nothing improbable in this romantic story, why should we doubt the truth of it ? Everything Hexham. 25 points to its authenticity — situation of battle and the nearness of the forest, ravine, cave, etc. It was a fete day on my first visit to Hexham, and the inhabitants from the surrounding district, dressed in their best attire, and radiant with smiHng faces, were hurrying to the town, all boisterous with mirth, chaffing, and cracking of jokes, etc. The place re-echoed with merriment and revelry on that day. A fine view of Hexham is obtained from a slight eminence on the south side of the Tyne. 'Tis a charming scene, pastoral garden and orchard intervening and surrounding it, the red roofs of the old town clustering beyond, above which loom mediaeval relics, pregnant with historic memories ; beyond rise tier above tier the billowy woodland hills, clothed with diversified foliage. 'Tis a unique and primitive little market town, being unpolluted by manufactories, having a Flemish aspect about it. The Market Place is approached through the gateway of a fine Edwardian Tower, thus imbuing the town with the military significance of the past. On the west side is the Market Hall and the Market Place, from which the streets radiate. This is still a very interesting square, and was, half-a-century ago, the most antique in Great Britain. The Abbey Church, though now shorn of its former grandeur, is still a magnificent and sublime building, impressing the beholder with the solemn, hoary sanctity which still seems to pervade it ; it comprises transept, 156 feet in length, and beautiful choir, now used as the church. Amongst many relics of an old world special mention should be made of the Saxon Crypt, a fragment of the original church built by St. Wilfred, and nearly similar to the one at Ripon, also erected by the Bishop. Ripon was the most beloved of his numerous places of residence. In the construction of the Crypt ample evidence has been found of the Roman Wall, and also the Roman town of Corstopitium (Corbridge), having been used as a quarry by the builders. The Roman Altar, now in the transept, is a rare piece of early sculpture. Prior Richard's tomb, or shrine, and the grotesque figure of a monk at the entrance, are curious examples of mediaeval craft ; also the antique rood screen, which bears a Latin inscription, and, translated, reads : " Pray for the soul of Lord Thomas the Second, who caused this work to be made." But the most sacred and interesting relic is the Frid Stool Peace, or Sanctuary Chair. Four elaborately carved crosses stood at four different entrances to the city to mark the way to sanctuary and refuge, and once the fugitive was within the limit of the boundary he was practically safe from arrest, but once seated in the Stool of Peace the accused, whatever his crimes, was religiously protected by the laws and power of the church, and if his pursuers attempted to remove him from the stool by force, the offence of so doing was punishable by death. What scenes and incidents this hoary relic brings forth on the memory, connecting, as it does, the story of Biblical days, and the picture of the fugitive fleeing for safety to the city of refuge. 26 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. The abbey gateway, clad with ivy and lichen, is a fine relic of Norman work, and stands about a hundred paces to the north-west of the church. The old churchmen of Hexham were renowned for their sympathy and kindness to the people, and when the distressing edict was sent forth by the command of the Eighth Henry for the monks to deliver up their church, lands, and belongings, the people rose, fully armed, and gathering around them, vowing to protect them from such pillage and insult. This was the first symptom of the insurrection known in history as the Pilgrimage of Grace, which ended in disaster and ruin to many of the participators, amongst others, the last Abbot, Edward Jaye, who was hanged beneath the abbey gateway. Two and a half miles east from Hexham, and just south of the road leading to Corbridge, the ruins of Dilston Castle peer from its leafy surroundings down the steep, rocky precipice which rises so abruptly above that sparkling and romantic little river known as the "Devil's Water," which has its rise in the hills east of Allandale, and wends through rugged moorlands, in summer time richly covered with blooming gorse ; deep sequestered glens, and mazy woodland, rushing and foaming over moss-tinted boulders, past Nunsburgh, as its name implies, the seat of an old convent, and under the time-honoured arch of Lennel's Bridge, bearing the inscrip- tion, " God preserve Wilfred Erengton, who builded this bridge, 1530." Now onward through the park of Dilston, where trees of varied hue wave in luxuriance, and under the grey and ancient bridge of single span across which the road passes from deerpark to the castle. Thence, turning in a semicircle, flows beneath giant ancestral trees, which here rise in grandeur, and canopy the scene with their beauty. Now, smooth and silent, it flows, brown with the tint of its moorland source, nature exquisitely reflected in its bosom ; again, bursting from all restraint, it dances and sparkles into foaming riplets past mills of olden time, picturesque in their half-ruined confusion, adorned with a robe of moss, lichen, fern, flower, trailing wild plant, and the roots of ancient trees, from whence the water, in its fury, at flood time, has swept away the soil— such is the beauty of " Devil's Water," as it sparkles past Dilston Hall, and winds through an avenue of foliage to the Tyne a few hundred paces beyond. Dilston. 27 And here, on this commanding eminence above the little river, with the delightful vistas of Tynedale spreading far and wide beneath, the old Norman family of Dyvelston reared their baronial keep. History mentions a Robert de Dyvelston, a William, Thomas, and Simon de Dyvelston, and the name of the little rivulet still preserves the memory of this old Border race. In course of generations the estate passed into the possession of the Tyndalls, so called from their domain, which stretched for several miles along the course of the South Tyne. Langley Castle, then the baronial residence of the Tyndalls, stood majestically on an eminence, which commanded the southern banks of the Tyne, two miles west from Haydon Bridge. The castle was in the shape of the letter f-|, and was defended by a moat and four noble towers, standing in position north and south, the walls of which were seven feet thick. Two Adams de Tynedale, father and son, held possession of Langley during the long reign of Henry HI. *' That castle rose upon the steeps of the Green vale of the Tyne, While far below, as low they creep From pool to eddy, dark and deep, Where alders bend and willows weep, You hear her streams repine." Sir William de Tyndall married Alana, daughter and heiress of Margaret of Silesia, a niece of Wincesslaus the Good, and almost the last of the ancient Kings of Bohemia ; her paternal ancestors had occupied for ten generations the throne of Poland. Margaret came as a companion in that courtly train of her cousin, fair Anne of Luxemburg, the beloved wife of Richard H. Such is a brief outline of the Tyndalls, who became possessed of Dilston, and were ancestors of William Tyndall, the Apostle of the English Reformation. From the Tyndalls it passed to the Claxtons, and from them, by marriage, to John Cartington, of Cartington Tower ; and his daughter and heiress, Anne, married Sir Edward Radcliffe, of Derwentwater, whose castle stood on an island in the beautiful lake, whose natural charms can scarcely be surpassed. Dilston Hall Bridge. EDMUND BOGG. Devilstone so called from its situation on the high banks of the Stony Brook Devil. 28 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. '* A land of vale and mountain, Isles of the Derwent lake ; Stream of a thousand fountains, Mists on the mountain's peak." By this marriage, which took place towards the end of the fifteenth century, Dyvelston was added to the possessions of the Radcliffes of Derwentwater. Who is there that hath not heard of the dismal tragedy which overtook the scions of the Radcliffes for their adherence to the lost cause of the ill-fated Stuarts ? There is a melancholy and pathetic interest attached to the noble-hearted, yet unfortunate, Earls. Of James, the first Earl who suffered, a writer who knew him, says : — " The sweetness of his temper and disposition, in which he had few equals, had so secured him the affection of all his tenants, neighbours, and dependents, that multitudes would have lived and died for him ; he was a man formed by nature to be generally beloved, and was in the habit of continually visiting the cottages of the peasantry, so that he might see their wants, and with his own hands relieve the poverty and distress of the poor, be they Romanists or Protestants. He kept a house of generous hospitality and noble entertainment." Such was the disposition of the ill-fated Earl. There were numerous north-country ballads respecting him ; one says : — " Oh, Derwentwater's a bonnie lord, He wears his gowd in his hair, And glinting is his hawking eye, Wi' kind love dwelling there. Yestreen he cam to our lord's yett, An' loud, loud would he ca' — ' Rise up, rise up, for good King James, And buckle, and come awa' ! ' " He was beheaded on Tower Hill, February 24th, 17 15, in spite of the earnest supplication of his wife, and the efforts and entreaties of his numerous friends. 'Tis said that the instant the noble head was severed from his body, a strange moaning sound of agonised sorrow was uttered by the vast multitude of spec- tators, and far and wide across the northern counties bitter tears were shed, and expressions of horror and grief uttered for the hapless fate of the winsome young earl. "The Tyndale peasants wake and weep," says one ballad, and round the blazing fires, on dark winter nights, tales were long told of how the spouts of Dilston Hall ran blood, and the new corn which .was ground at the mill on the day of execution was tinged with crimson. The Aurora Borealis, since that time known in this district as the Derwentwater lights, shone with unwonted brilliancy on that night ; and " Devil's Water " ceased its Dilston, 29 prattling music, and became sombre and mournful, changing to a crimson hue. There is a beautiful tradition which records that in the park and woods, the spirit of the unhappy Lady Derwentwater has often been seen, gliding, ghost-like, as if in search of her husband ; and again, in the night-time, she has appeared on the turret, holding lamp or torch high above her head, as if to guide the way to the castle. It was from this place she was wont, in the happy days, to watch for the coming of her lord. The body of Lord Derwentwater was brought to Dilston, and, without any ostentation or display, sorrowfully deposited in its family vault within the chapel. His lady and friends, and the tenantry, gathered round the vault, some loud in their lamentation, others silently weeping, for they remembered how kind he had been to them. But who can tell the utter desolation which swept across the heart of the bereaved lady. For a short time she remained at Dilston, where she was courteously treated with compassion by the people, for they knew how holy was her affection for her lost lord ; but her cup of sorrow was filled to the brim on making a last visit to Derwentwater lake, where the peasantry actually rose and insulted the unhappy lady. Once she is said to have hidden herself from their fury in a hollow of Wallow Cragg, still known by the name of " Lady's Rake." Story says that, had it not been for her earnest persuasion, the Earl would never have embarked in that ill-fated rebellion, which ended so tragically. The unhappy lady seems never to have been at rest, for she was constantly changing her place of residence, dying at the age of 30, August 30th, 1723. Her son survived his mother eight years, dying in 1731 ; and whatever possessions the son had not been deprived of by the attainder of his father, fell to his uncle, Charles Radcliffe, as gallant a soldier as ever drew sword or buckled on armour, who, 30 years after the execution of his brother, also suffered for his loyalty to the Stuarts. He was executed on Little Tower Hill, 1746, and his body is supposed to have been interred in the Church of St. Giles, in the Fields, but his heart, according to his own request, was embalmed, and deposited in the coffin of James, his brother, in the vault of the family chapel at Dilston. Such is a brief outline of the sad tragedy which overtook the gallant lords of Dilston and Derwent- water. Beautiful indeed is the position which the solitary relic of Dilston Castle occupies, just above the verge of the precipice, overhanging "Devil's Water," its exquisite •^^sS- 30 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale, loveliness blending with story and romance. Many interesting chapters might be written anent its days of strife and Border feud, and the tragical ending of its noble owners. There is a tradition of a subterranean passage, and unearthly sounds have often been heard issuing therefrom, and the forms of ghosts and goblins have also been seen in the dreary vaults beneath the castle, where many an unhappy captive has fretted and pined in solitude and utter darkness, far from friends and relations. Adjoining, on the south side, is the little Catholic Chapel of the Radclififes, with its flagged roof, modest tower and bell gable, mellow with time. Within its hallowed precincts is the family vault of the Radcliffes, and here rests the body of the unfortunate James, the first Earl, who was beheaded, and the heart of his brother, the gallant and noble Charles. Patriarchal trees of vast growth abound, and the remains of the noble avenue of chestnuts is still to be seen. Regretfully we turn from Dilston, and follow the road leading to Corbridge, once the largest Roman town in the north of England. Here the Tyne, broad and beautiful, sweeps under the noble bridge, built on Roman foundation, and which has proved to be a most remarkably strong structure, its resistive power, owing to its sure foundations, being very great. It was the only bridge which escaped being swept away between Alston Moor, the source of the South Tyne, and the sea, during the awful fury of that tremendous flood, November, 1771. Those who have stood on this bridge will know the great height of the parapet above the water when not at flood, yet on that night persons leaning over washed their hands in the rolling waters. Fearful was the catastrophe which overtook many of the inhabitants' dwellings along the banks of the Tyne on that memorable night. Part of the old bridge at New- castle, with the shops, one of which was built on every pier, were swept away, and many of the occupants therein drowned. Corbridge, being the site of the Roman Corstopitium, has yielded a wealth of treasure appertaining to those people. The little River Cor, from which the town receives its name, runs into the Tyne a few hundred yards to the west ; here a huge skeleton was found in the 17th century, its measurements, according to tradition, being indeed fabulous. The name Bloody Acre, just on the south side of the Tyne, marks the site of a battle fought between the English and Scotch during the invasion of King David, 1138. "The Angel," an old hostelry, is still standing; and built partly in the churchyard is a fine example of an ancient peel tower, 13th century period. In former times it was the residence of the vicar, and afterwards used as the town o-aol • the entrance door is still protected by bands of rare ironwork. The north fc> ' aisle of the church contains numbers of sculptured stones, fragments of altars, etc., and a broken figure of Hercules, found in the churchyard ; also examples of Saxon work, and tomb covers, etc., of mediaeval times. The church, with its tower and the Roman Wall. 31 peel castle adjoining, form a very interesting picture, and are also types of interesting architecture. Half-an-hour's tramp north of Corbridge, past Beaufront Castle, charmingly situated, where the ill-fated Radcliffe visited his friend and kinsman on the eve of the Rebellion ; with the beautifully wooded valley of the Tempe stretching away to the west, we reach *Aydon Castle, an interesting mediaeval structure, more akin to a fortified mansion than a Border peel, pro- bably dating from the days of the Norman kings. It was the seat of Emma de Ayden, a rich heiress in the reign of the first Edward, who disposed of her in marriage to Peter de Walles, or Wallace, from Walls, in France. A deep, well-timbered ravine, down which babbles a turbulent stream, half encircles the structure ; on the oppo- site side a ditch completed the circle of defence. On my visit an immense colony of rooks made noisy clamour to the other- wise peacefulness of the spot. From the walls you look sheer down into the abyss. In Norman times it was in the posses- sion of the Baliols, from whom it passed to the Aydons. The house, as it now remains, is supposed to have been built by Peter de Vallibus towards the end of the 13th century. A rock overhanging the ravine is said to have received its name, " Jack's Leap," from a Scotchman, who leapt from the precipice and escaped his pursuers, whilst his companions were captured, or hurled into the glen and killed. A few hundred yards still further north is Halton Peel Tower, a massive square structure, with Jacobean farm-house and a chapel adjoining, the seat and manor of the ancient family of the Haltons.f There was a John de Halton in the reign of * Ayden, so called from its situation on the brink of a deep ravine — The High Dene. t From the Halton family the manor passed to the Carnabys, one of whom appears to have been a warden of the borders, for we are told that on one occasion, whilst he was deeply engaged on the trial of some of them, a very notorious and desperate villain was seized by his son, who asked his father what he should do with him. " Do with him," said the father ; " why hang him ! " As soon as the trial was ended, he ordered the man to be brought before him, but was told he was hanged instantly, according to his order. On complaint being made to the Crown, a fine of £0^ per annum was laid upon the Halton estate, which was still paid at the end of the eighteenth century." Doorway, Corbridge Peel Tower. 32 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. Henry III., and a William de Halton was High Sherifif of Northumberland in the following reign. The interior of the latter is very plain ; one interesting feature is the Norman chancel arch. Very droll were the remarks of the aged sexton, who could not give us any information. He only knew it to be " ah varry oad consarn ; it's been here," said he, " iver sin ah remember howt, an' ah'm ']6y An ancient altar table, standing on arched pedestals, is in the graveyard. The place is delightfully rural and picturesque, seen from the road, with huge arms of massive trees reaching into the burial ground, and the lowly chapel, with machiolated walls to match the castle, in the background, form a very interesting subject. A little to the north of Halton is the site of the Roman station of Hunnum. To our astonishment, on asking a native to direct us to the site, he answered, " I've lived in this hoose 40 years, but it's the first time I've heard of a Roman station in this vicinity." Such indifference to the interesting relics abounding in his own locality appeared most strange to us, considering the many miles we had tramped to visit the spot. An up-to-date city was, no doubt, more to his taste. Now turning west, with our backs towards Newcastle, we follow the site of the Roman Wall for several miles. Passing Cocklaw Tower, an ancient hall of the Erringtons, we reach St. Oswald's Chapel, a place of holy memories, standing on the rising ground above the Tyne valley. It was here, in 635, that King Oswald, a man beloved of God, gave battle to that celebrated Pagan warrior, Ceadwalla, King of the West, who had previously slain Oswald's brother. King of Bernicia, and nearly destroyed his army. This good King Oswald had been taught by Aidan at the monastery of lona, and the seed there sown in after years bore good fruit. The story of the vision which had appeared to the Emperor Constantine just before the battle of Milvian Bridge flashed on his memory, so hastily raising a wooden cross in front of his army, he called to his soldiers to kneel around it, and lifting up his voice to heaven, he prayed to be delivered from the power of the enemy. It was a battle between the Cross and Paganism, similar to the great fight at Arthuret, half-a-century earlier. Placing his men in a most advantageous position, on a plateau behind the Roman Wall, protected on the north by a ridge of rocks, he calmly awaited the coming of the foe, who could be discerned in the distance marching along the east bank of the North Tyne. It is said that the Pagan Prince laughed in mockery when he saw the smallness of the force gathered there to oppose him. Fully confident of victory, his forces flung themselves, with fury against the strong barrier of defence, and were thrown back, scattered and broken. Again and again the advancing wave of Paganism was sent reeling backward by the gallant little army of Oswald's, who finally triumphed, scattering and chasing the Pagans across the Roman Wall and over the Tyne river, the discomfited chieftain being slain some seven or eight miles from the Roman Wall. 33 battlefield. The success of Oswald was so far above all human expectation, so they named the site of the battle Hefenfelth, or Heaven's Field, i.e., the Holy Dene. To this spot the monks of Hexham repaired yearly, on the anniversary of Oswald's death, to offer up prayers for the repose of his soul ; and soon after a church was built on the site of the battle, and was named Saint Oswald, after the sainted and victorious King. Crossing the bridge at Cholleford we pass forward to the Roman station of Cilurnum, which occupies some five and a half acres along the south bank of the North Tyne, situated in the grounds of the Claytons (the Chesters). The walls of the station are in many places several courses in height, and the exact position of the ■A\ Ruins of Cilurnum. EDMUND BOGG. different departments can be distinctly traced — the rooms occupied by the soldiers, the entrance, and sanitary arrangements, the forum, pretorium, treasury, baths, etc. What scenes of war, tumult, and building and making of roads, this valley has witnessed. About the dawn of Christianity men of various nationalities were marched hither from all parts of the known ' world. The Carthaginian and Numidinian from Africa ; men from the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates ; the Armenian and Syrian ; uncouth warriors from the wilds of Tartary, the banks of the Volga and D u Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. the Caspian, in Asia ; Cretans, Thracians, Tungrians, Galatians, and Dacians ; and the Cymbrians and Teutons ; formidable warriors from the shores of the Baltic ; the Hiins and Goths from the Danube ; the Gaul ; the Spaniard ; men of Sparta, Athens, and other cities of ancient Greece and Rome, the latter well cultured and civilized ; also people from the conquered provinces along the shores of the Mediter- ranean, veterans in war, trained with a stern discipline by their leaders, were there gathered to protect this frontier of the Romans. Mighty indeed are the changes which have come to pass since the mistress of the world ruled here, and with strength and splendour raised that line of defence, the frontier wall, from coast to coast, built city, town, and station, and formed those far-extending military roads, along which courier and gaily painted chariot sped, bearing onwards the proudest blood of ancient Rome ; and stately galleys were then to be seen ascending or descending along the bosom of "Father Tyne." Her strong-handed rule to be succeeded — when the legions were withdrawn to save her own capital from the spolia- tion of the invader — by the influx of wild men from beyond the Wall, leaving in their train havoc, wreck, riot, and ruin, and the oppression of the old British race, who invited the Saxons from over the sea to their aid ; A Bend of the Tyne. ^^i -i , , • < . the latter, m turn, also be- came their oppressors. Then came the final attempt of the down-trodden nation to hurl back the invader who had stolen in under the guise of friendship, the uprisino-, tottering, and falling of petty kingdoms and states, until, in the fulness of time, came that cohesion, and the formation of a mighty people, whose empire stretches far beyond the dreams of Roman conquest. As we stood thus musing amidst the treasures of antiquity, imagination re-peopling the spot with the activity and splendour of military life ; the muse of the magic mirror revealing the stately tramp of legions, the fluttering of triumphal banners, the echoes of war, the roll of chariots, the struggle on the battlefield, the flight of the vanquished, the return of the victors, bearing aloft the eagle-crested banners, South Tyne, 35 and in their train, to swell the glory of conquest, are captive princes and shaggy unkempt warriors, of grim and fierce aspect, from the unknown Pictish regions, which the Roman Eagle seemed afraid to penetrate, and which she never thoroughly subjected. Before leaving this beautiful and historic region, we note the remains of the Roman bridge which here crossed the river, fragments of the piers being still to be seen. A little higher is the fine bridge at Cholleford. About twenty years ago a medical man from Newcastle, who had been called to Cholleford on urgent business, was crossing the narrow bridge in fine style, when his trap collided with a large stone placed to keep the carts from damaging the parapet. The doctor had a very narrow escape, his groom not being so fortunate, for a stifled cry and a heavy splash in the river, far below, told him of his servant's fate. Rushing to the " George," which stands at the foot of the bridge, the doctor procured a light and assistance, meanwhile fearing they would be of no avail ; but what was his astonishment, on nearing the bridge, to meet the man, dripping like a half-drowned rat, otherwise none the worse for his immersion. After a halt at the " George " for refreshment, we still follow, for some distance, the highway which runs on the side of the Roman Wall, at a grand elevation above the river for about twenty miles west from Newcastle. But before proceeding we will make brief mention — for our space forbids anything more — of the interesting places lying between Haltwhistle and the junction of the North and South Tyne, as, for instance, Fourstones, a name derived from that number of stones, which probably marks some ancient boundary. In the cavity of one, the Earl of Derwentwater, when hiding from the warrant which was issued for his arrest, was wont to deposit his letters, which, story says, were collected by a boy clad in green like a fairy, and as such believed to be, to the astonishment and wonder of the natives. From hence to Haydon Bridge the Tyne flows on calmly and tranquilly, through exquisite scenery. The last-named place received its name from the steep bridge which crosses the river at this place ; and the old cemetery, from its sorrowful association with a wild border foray, is known as the " Cruel Syke." This is also the birthplace of Martin, the artist. Further west, before we reach Bardon Mill, Langley Castle is passed to the south, and the beauty of the river flowing through charming woods claims our admiration. Ridley Hall, a noted place, stands between the Tyne and the Allen. The Ridley family were noted borderers, and took part in many a wild adventure. The walks in the vale of the latter river are most delightful. The little River Allen, which joins the Tyne below Ridley Hall, takes its rise on the moors to the east of Alston, and wanders in its twelve miles course through a rich profusion of nature's loveliness, D2 3^ Wanderings on the Old B order y Lakeland, and Rihblesdale. most notable at Monk's Wood, near Whitfield, and the charming scenery at Stanard- de-Peel, where the river passes through the hills, beautifully clothed with rich and variegated foliage of waving woods. Reverting to the Tyne again, further west is Willimoteswick {i.e., the mote or keep), formerly a place of great strength, and Unthank Hall, both residences of the Ridley family — a member of whom was the famous Bishop Ridley, who suffered martyrdom. Several of the Ridley family were eminent divines, and others celebrated in literature. For their adherence to the Royal cause, the Parliament confiscated some of their estates in 1652. *' Thus fell the Ridley's martial line, Lord William's ancient towers ; Fair Ridley on the silver Tyne, And sweet Thomgrafton's bowers." Continuing our ramble from Cholleford, we leave the highway, where it separates from the Wall, and follow the course of the great military barrier over hill, dale, and barren upland, crossing a wide range of basaltic rocks. It is a rough tramp, but most enjoyable and interesting. At Sewinshields, traditions of King Arthur lend a zest of romance to the stern relics of old Rome. To the north of the Wall formerly stood a strong Border castle ; beneath was an enchanted cave, where the king and his court lay entranced, as the bard says they do under the Eildons, waiting for the spell to be dissolved by the magic sound of the bugle. As we proceed the land becomes more wildly picturesque. In several places we walked along the surface of the Wall, and our imagination depicted the Roman sentinel pacing to and fro in the darkness, keeping watch and ward, scanning eagerly across the wild waste to the north, or, peradventure, thinking of his own beloved home away in the sunny south, maybe contrasting that home on the banks of the Tiber, or the sunny shores of the Adriatic Sea, with the black sterile hills where he was doomed to spend many weary months, or even years. Past " Cat Gate," so named from a hole made by the Scots large enough to admit the body of a man, and " Busy Gap," a place notorious in olden time, and the rendezvous of moss-troopers and border-thieves. Now we reach Borcovicus, the most important station on the Wall, and defended in Roman times by the first Tungrian Cohort, or Belgic Gauls. The Temple of Mithras and Mithraic Cave bespeak memories of the eastern world. Just before we reach the highest part of the Wall we drop into a sheltered hollow in the hills, near the foot of the Northumbrian lakes. Hot Bank, the name of a farm, is tenanted Roman Wall. 37 by an old Border family of the name of Armstrong. 'Tis a strange and pathetic sight, says one, to watch a funeral cortege pass over the moorland from such out-of-the-way places. One of the Armstrongs who died many years ago, a character in his way, was followed by two hundred mounted borderers across the moor to his last resting-place. Here we rested awhile, partook of refreshment kindly provided by the good lady at the farm, and after a chat with the farmer, who was busy mowing the little plot of grass by the lakes, we followed the barrier line over the most wild, rocky, and inaccessible part of the Wall, which in many places follows the brink of abrupt precipices, rising sheer from the Northumbrian lakes, or lochs, as they are here called. In such places, where there is a natural bulwark, the ditch or vallum, which generally runs parallel with the Wall, has been dispensed with. The view from the highest point of land, over a thousand feet above sea level, at sunset is magnificent — east, west, north, and south, the view extends far, far away across mountain, moor, and lake, the wall line cutting this panorama of wildness and beauty. The Cumberland hills rise dim and shadowy, tier above tier ; westward, the crest of the waves on the Solway glitter and sparkle like a myriad of rubies ; to the north, Scotlandward, stretches an inhospitable region of dreary moor and rock ; bosomed in such scenes are the lonely lakes, flushed, on this eve, with the roseate hues from the setting sun. How strangely quiet — no sound of human life here, only the startled cry and flutter of wild fowl on the lake, which have been disturbed by the splash of a stone falling into the water, or the distant bleating of sheep, the wail and shriek of curlew and snipe. Long we stood musing on the memories and associations connected with this landmark of the world's history, the remnants of crumbling walls, mouldering ruins, and palaces, stretching away from our feet, ruled over by the mighty Caesars of the eternal city, the centre, at that period, of the world's vitality. Unchecked in her conquest she became haughty in pride and power ; a hundred nations were trampled in dust before her ; she was the law-giver to the world, even our Saviour said, "Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's." The name, Eternal City, proved 38 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Ribblesdale. to be a misnomer, for at length the spark of her vitality was crushed out, her mighty strength and energy waned, her vast buildings, walls, and cities were thrown down and trampled into dust and ashes. " And as we trace," says one, " Rome's remnants and memorials, crumbling walls and fallen bulwarks, remaining only, as it seems, in mockery of man's boasted strength, wherein can be read, in plainer and more impressive character than any printed page could show it, the vanity of earth and all that rests upon it." Further along the Wall is a house known as Burnt Deviot, formerly a resort of smugglers and reivers. Many a fierce fight has taken place in this vicinity, which the numerous skele- tons discovered from time to time testify. Now for the present we leave the Wall, and drop down the steep declivity. Looking back, the sun's rays were tipping with a golden thread the Roman bulwark. throwing into fine relief miles of that ancient landmark. Haltwhistle, a long straggling market town, stands on the north bank of the South Tyne, and still retains many curious features of domestic architecture of the sixteenth century period. Here many primitive customs and superstitions still linger. In the days of feud and foray it was a place of resort for outlaws and moss-troopers. A feud long existed between the Armstrongs of Liddlesdale and the Ridleys of Tynedale, ending in the death of at least two of the Armstrongs. Castle Hill, an artificial mound, and the Church of Holy Cross, containing an altar tomb of the Ridleys, and an incised gravestone of the Blenkinsops, are objects of great interest. Bellister Castle, once the residence of the Blenkinsop The Roman Wall. Roman Wall. 39 family, stands on a small plateau, a few hundred yards to the south of Haltwhistle, and just to the east of the river, which here changes its course from south to north, to east and west. The walls of the ruin are of immense thickness, and sheltered by large sycamores. From appearance it has only been a strong Border peel of the same type and character as those nearer the Border line. Part of the ruins have been restored, and additions made, and it is now inhabited. Half-a-mile south-west is Wryden Scarr, where the river washes and wanders around a beautiful wooded cliff. From the summit fine views of the country west are obtained, further up the river flows through a scene of exquisite loveliness. Passing Sunhill and Rowport, old-world hamlets, we reach Lambley, where, previous to the thirteenth century, was a Benedictine convent, but the Scots, under Wallace, says Knighton, " consumed the house of the holy nuns of Lambley, and all the country round, in horrible fire." The ruins, which stood by the river's bank, have been washed away by furious floods. To the south the fells rise boldly into the sky, and the glens sink deeper, and the scene grows more wild and lonely. 'Tis a beautiful June day, flowers carpet the brink of the river and the edge of the woodland, cloud packs like huge rocks and mountains float across the heavens, trailing shadows over the brown sunlit moor ; humming bees flit from flower to flower, birds carol, and trout and other fish glitter in the infant Tyne. Here, in the solemnity of the everlasting hills, we are hidden away from the noise and din of the busy world. Around us are scenes teeming with loveli- ness and wildering in beauty. Turning our faces north we follow the windings of the meandering Tyne, and pass the place where Nicholas Featherstonehaugh was murdered, October 24th, 1530. He was slain by William Ridley of Unthank, Hugh Ridley of Howden, and other members of this family. The old ballad, which was alleged by Suretees to have been taken down from the recital of aged women upwards of one hundred years ago, says : — " There was Willimoteswick, And afore they were done gat sic a stun And Hardriding Dick, As never was seen since the world begun ; And Hughie o' Hawden, and Will o' the Wa' ; I canno' tell a', I canno' tell a'. I canno' tell a', I canno' tell a' ; Some gat a skelp, some gat a claw, An' mony a mair that the devil may knaw. But they gar'd the Featherston's haud their jaw, The auld man went down, but Nichol his son Nicol and Alick and a'. Ran away afore the fight was begun ; Some gat a hurt and some gat nane, And he run, and he run. Some had harness and some gat sta'en." Following the banks of the Tyne we approach Featherstone Castle, which stands on a level haugh, or meadow, delightfully secluded by fine trees, and hidden by the land which rises immediately above. Thus encircled by its native hills and the windings of the Tyne, it remains a perfect gem of romance and baronial glory in a rich setting of nature ; its mediaeval towers, still perfect, ivy-clad and grey, carry back 40 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakela7td, and Ribblesdale. our thoughts to the rude age of strife and Border warfare, and fancy almost hears, borne on the breeze, the jingle of armour and the neighing and curvetting of war- steeds. Story says the castle received its name from the fact of its having formerly stood on the high ground to the east, near two large stones, known by the name of Fether-stones, the latter syllable, " haugh," being added to the name on the removal of the castle to its present site. The Fether, or Featherstonehaughs, were a noted Border family during the Norman and Tudor dynasties. From the castle we wander back to the Tyne, and over the remarkable bridge, of one bold arch, like Twizel on the Till, worthy of preservation. Here is a glen, and a delicious little waterfall. All is beautiful — overhanging trees, delightful glades and shadowy pools, where the fish love to lurk. Passing west from the river we approach Blenkinsop Castle, situated on the slope of a steep bank, near Greenhead. Little of the original structure remains, extensive alterations having been made about 1880. The position of the castle has been well chosen, commanding, as it does, the vale country east and west. There is a tradition, grim and significant, relating to one Bryan Blenkinsop, who rode far and near in search of a wife possessed of a chest of gold so heavy that ten men would be required to carry it, and at length he found a lady who owned a chest of gold according to his heart's desire; he married her, but instead of love she soon learned to hate him. She hid her gold away in some secret chamber, and the knowledge of its hiding-place dying with her has caused her troubled spirit to wander. A lady, clad in white, has oft appeared at unearthly hours, vainly seeking for some mortal to whom she can disclose the secret of her golden hoard. Another tradition concerning this family is of a huge black hound, which is said to always appear a few days previous to a death, and again passes through the chamber of sorrow immediately the spirit leaves the body. Roman Wall. 4 1 About a mile west of Greenhead, and built on a commanding site on the high rocky bank above the little River Tippal, a tributary of the South Tyne, are the sombre ruins of Thirlwall Castle, surrounded on three sides by dark firs, and, seen in the twilight, the place presents a strange, eerie picture of gloom and loneliness. It was guarded on the east by the deep ravine, and on the south and west by the Roman Wall and vallum. A deep silence of awe and mystery broods over this hoary relic, disturbed only by the fretting, foaming, and tumbling of the burn below. It would seem as if the spirits of all the warriors who have been slain in this district, during the centuries, might at any moment reappear on the scene, so impregnated is this spot with the glamour of the past. Only shattered fragments remain to bespeak its former glory ; the walls in many places measuring fully nine feet in thickness. The castle was formerly in the possession of the Thirlwalls, whose gathering cry in olden time resounded through the vale — " A Thirlwall ! A Thirlwall ! ! A Thirlwall!!!" There was a John de Thirlwall in the reign of Edward III., and a Robert de Thirlwall, tempo Elizabeth. The last sole heiress, Eleanora Thirlwall, died towards the latter portion of the eighteenth century, when the castle came into the possession of the Carlisles. As a proof of its importance, Edward I. rested here a night in September, 1306. Between here and Brampton the country is sparsely populated, and consists of farms, etc., generally standing on a small hill, intersected with knolls and fells, babbling brooks, and moorish meadows, where range herds of black, hornless cattle. ^^^ CHAPTER IV. .xSX IRTHING VALLEY. K^ MILE west from Thirl wall we pass out of the eastern watershed into the valley of the Irthing, which takes its rise in the Tarnbecks, north of Bewcastle, and flows through a wide stretch of moorland called the Wastes, crosses the Roman Wall at Gilsland ; thence, for the greater part of its course, it murmurs through scenes remarkable for beauty and historic significance, joins the waters of the Eden, and finds its way into the Solway, on the Cumberland coast. Gils-Land is a very ancient, interesting spot, and the healing virtues of the holy well had a great reputation in pre-railway times; but the situation was lonely and laborious to reach, and the district was so infested with moss-troopers and highwaymen, even down to the latter part of the eighteenth century, that people in search of health feared to travel to this shrine so famed for mineral virtues. The name Gilsland, from Gils or Gilles-Beuth, is said to receive its name from a Celt owing the allegiance of the Saxon, and who was possessed of this Barony in pre-Conquest days, stretching between the Irthing and the Liddle, and Beuth's Castle — the Bewcastle of our day was his original stronghold, a place difficult of approach at that date, situate in a lonely wilderness of heather. For affecting the cause of Gospatric, the Earl, the Conqueror stripped him of his lands, which were given, in turn, to a Norman adven- Gilsland. 43 turer, a De Vallibus or Vaux. Gilles, the son of the above-mentioned Beuth, is described in the Abbey of Lanercost as Lord of Gilsland, yet he never really ruled over the possessions of his ancestors. He joined with the disaffected Saxons who, with the assistance of the Scots, made repeated incursions over the Border, hoping, no doubt, to win back his heritage. At length a Tryst was arranged between Beuth and De Vallibus, whereby they might come to some final settlement and mutual under- standing regarding the estates. But tradition records that, in violation of the rules Waterfall on the Irthing, Gilsland. of Tryst, Robert de Vallibus shamefully slew Gilles Beuth, and as an atonement for that guilty act, the Norman built and endowed the Priory of Lanercost (1169). Camden says : " Gillesland Barony is a tract so cut and made with brooks, which they call gilles, that I should have thought it had taken the name from them, if I had not read in the Lanercost Book of one Gilles, son of Beuth, who was possessed of it, so that probably its name came from him." The same idea, I am sure, will occur to any interested observer, when looking into the vale of the Irthing at this place, 44 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Ribblesdale. so numerous appear the gills and becks, and tortuous windings of small watercourses, amongst the shrubby brushwood and numerous dwarf hillocks, seeming to point out, as an appropriate name, Gillesland, or the land of gills. The village is not by any means striking or picturesque, and the old-time cottages have been super- seded by numerous small villa residences, without any pretension to architectural art. Yet the vale of the Irthing is beautiful, and possesses a character entirely its own. It was here that Sir Walter Scott, in the summer of 1797, first met Miss Carpenter, whom he married in the following year. The natives tell that he proposed to the lady of his choice at the famous popping-stone yet to be seen in the bed of the river, a spot where many love-sick swains make those vows which are only to be severed by death. " Guy Mannering," and the " Bridal of Triermain," have done much to make the visitors interested with this district. Mump's Ha', which, Scott says, had an evil reputation, was formerly an alehouse. The front of the house has been altered, but the interior still retains most of its original features. It was here that Dandie Dinmont told Meg Merrilees of the death of Ellan- gowan, and it was here also that Fighting Charlie, an Armstrong of Liddlesdale, stayed to refresh himself when returning from Stagshawbank Fair. Meg was usually kind and gracious, and played the hostess well ; watching her opportunity, however, she adroitly withdrew the charges from his pistols, and re-wadded them with tow ; but all her blandishments and smiles could not prevail on Charlie to stay for the night, for he had been warned of the evil reputation the innkeeper and his wife bore. So he mounted and rode off at a sharp trot in the darkness ; but suddenly remembering that under Meg's bland face there had lurked a sinister smile, he felt for his pistols, and, to his anger and astonishment, found the charges had been withdrawn and the space filled with tow. Fully convinced that he was to be waylaid, he carefully reloaded his pistols, and spurred his steed over the wild waste, scanning the moor in every direction. Suddenly two mounted fellows, disguised, and armed to the teeth, con- fronted him, and a glance over his shoulder proved that two other men had taken up the rear. The men in front called on him to stand and deliver, but Charlie, spurring his horse, went boldly onward, and covered the robbers with his pistols. " D — n your pistols," shouted one of the robbers ; " aw care not a curse for it." " Aye, lad," said the deep voice of Fighting Charlie, " but the too's oot noo." This was enough for the highwaymen ; they had oft heard of Charlie's prowess, but had never expected to meet a man so cool and daring. They turned and fled over the moor, and Armstrong reached home without further molestation. But he always swore that the robber who challenged him was no other than the landlord of Mump's Ha'. Meg lived to the good old age of one hundred years, and her grave can be seen in the churchyard of Upper Denton, On her tombstone is the following : — Gilsland. 4S *' Mump's Hall. Here lies the body of Margaret Carrick, Who departed this life ye 4th of December, 1717, In the TOOth year of her age." Another stone records the age and death of her daughter : — " Here lieth the body of Margaret Teasdale, Of Mump's Hall, Who died May 4th, 1777, aged 98 years." Truly great ages, and to have lived through such evil repute. Three miles to the north of Gilsland stood the castle of Triermain ; all that now exists is a part of one of the walls. It was a place of vast strength, and was the earliest Norman structure built in this dis- trict after the Conquest, and stood the brunt of many a fierce fight before the castles of Askerton and Naworth had an existence. Centuries have rolled away since the war- riors, attired in chain mail, passed beneath the barbican, and the banners which waved on the high keep have long since mouldered into dust. Sir Walter, in his " Bridal of Triermain," graphically describes the fierce fights and forays of the lord of the castle, and also tells how " There the main fortress, bioad and tall, Spread its long range of bower and hall And tower of varied size, Wrought with each ornament extreme, That Gothic art, in wildest dream Of fancy could devise." The Wizard of the North has rendered the names of Vaux and Tryermain immortal. ^""T " Thou shalt not die, O Tryermain ; Thou hast a glory greater far Than any Border chieitain's reign O'er land and men. Such glories are, And fade, and these few stones remain. But Walter Scott, he of thee sings. And Coleridge, e'en, in ' Christabel,' Throned thee in music. These the things That make earth loveliest. Such a spell Lasts longer than the ivy clings." Seven miles to the north of Triermain is Bewcastle, remarkable for its unique monument, which stands fifteen feet in height, and is two feet square at the base. There is no definite opinion by whom, and for what purpose and what date, the stone was raised. Bewcastle thieves were the most renowned on the English side of the Border. *' Once," says Sir Walter, in notes to the " Lay of the Last Minstrel," " the 4<5 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. captain of Bewcastle, having made a raid over that border, was defeated by one Wat Tinlinn, a noted Liddlesdale archer, and pursued through a dangerous morass, in which the district abounds. The captain reached the firm ground in safety, and seeing TinHnn dismounted and floundering in the bog, sarcastically called out, * Sutor Wat, ye cannot sew your boots ; the heels rish and the seams rive.' Wat was a sutor, or shoemaker, by trade. * If I cannot sew,' retorted Tinlinn, discharging a shaft which nailed the captain's thigh to his saddle ; ' if I cannot sew, I can yerk.' " Hobby Noble, so celebrated in Border ballads, was born at the Crew, a peel tower in the vicinity.* Now westward along the vale of the Irthing, and across the river at a shallow part, and a climb up the steep bank to Burdoswald, the Roman station of "Am- boglanna," the glen, the brink or bank of a river. We need not describe the remains of the station, as Mr. G. T. Lowe has very faithfully portrayed this and the other stations in his chapter on the "Wall"; but as I am writing, a friend who has just re- turned from the confines of the Sahara desert describes to me the numerous Roman camps, and even cities, mouldering there in ruins, similar to those on the Wall, raised and inhabited by these conquerors of the world, anterior to the conquest of Britain. The camp is situate on a precipitous rock, and overlooks the river, which forms a natural rampart from the south. Few spots are more strikingly beautiful than the vale of Irthing, seen from this spot. The soothing music of the murmuring river, winding far below in half circles, falls on the ear ; gleams of silver, sandy margins, * A farmer, a native of the district between Bewcastle and Cannobie, a great original in his way, and remarkable for his fondness of a " big price" for everything, attended at Langholm Fair, and notwithstanding his parsimonious habits, actually sold his lambs to a perfect stranger upon his simply promising to pay him punctually at the next market. On his return home the farmer's servants, who regularly messed at the same table, and seldom honoured him with the name of master, inquired, *' Wee'l, Sandy, ha'e ye sel't the lams' ? " *' Atweel ha'e I, and Lanercost. 4; rock and pebbled shore, rich green verdure, hill, furze, and woodland, and the beautiful perspective enhanced by the twinings of the river. The Earl of Carlisle says that this scene wonderfully resembles the view of Troy from the plain of Troad. For some little distance further we follow the Wall, and then drop down into a green haugh on the north side of the Irthing river, and here, in a flower-decked vale and wood, glade and river, stands the Priory of Lanercost. The entrance is under a \ 'f^/ /, \r ^ r"/ j.'^/f 'iv^i £/^yi=»" ,"^N ^ ^^\^^ '^Ofi^^O^ The Priory of Lanercost, from the Gateway. picturesque Norman gateway, through which the abbey is seen to fine advantage in the immediate perspective. The priory farm buildings, ancient barn, Edwardian I gat a saxpence a heed mair than ony ane else in the market." " And a' weel paid siller ? " '* Na, the siller's no paid yet, but it's share (sure) eneuch." "Wha's yer merchant, and what's yer sakeritie (security) ?" "Aye, aye, I ne'er fashed mysel' ta speer, but he's a weel fae'd mon, wi' muckle tap bits (top boots) and a bottle-green coat." The servants at this laughed outright, and tauntingly told him he would never get a farthing. Sandy, how- ever, thought differently, and having hurt his leg so as to prevent him from travelling, he sent a shepherd to Langholm, with instructions to look for a man with a bottle-green coat, whom he was sure, he said, to find standing near a certain sign. The shepherd did as he was bid, and strange to say, discovered a person standing at the identical spot, who, on learning his errand, inquired kindly for his master, and paid the money to the uttermost farthing. Sandy, who piqued himself on his skill in physiognomy, heard the news without emotion, and merely said, ** I wad ony whiles lippen (trust) mair to looks than gabs (words), and whan I seed Colly smirking sa blithely and kindly aboot 'm I ken't weel eneuch he couldna' be a scoondr'l." 48 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Ribblesdale. tower, and vicarage, are on the right — a confused mixture of antique architecture, mellow and grim with time. " The spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green access, Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead, A light of laughing flowers along the graves is spread, And grey walls moulder round, on which dull time Feeds like slow fire upon a hoary brand." The entrance portal at the west consists of numerous mouldings, supported by- pilasters, with plain capitals and bases; immediately over the doorway is an arcaded gallery, which for- merly held figures, supposed to be those of Our Saviour and the twelve Apostles. A niche in the gable above the three lancet win- dows contains the sculptured figure of Mary Magdalene, and a monk kneel- ing before her. Services are held in the nave, which has Lord Dacre's Tomb, in Lanerco.t Priory. edmund bogg. bcCn thoroughly renovated, and now does duty as parish church. But the most absorbing interest is centred in the choir and transepts, which are roofless. The associations connected with the exquisite altar tombs, linking the abbey with the great historic Border families — the De Vallibus, Roland de Vaux, the Dacres, the Howards — seeming to me like some enchanting page of Gothic legend from old romance. As I stood on that holy ground, in the fading twilight of a summer's eve, in company with the venerable and kindly vicar, who was soon to be numbered with those already sleeping beneath our feet, and wandered from one decaying tomb to another, like the roofless choir, eloquent with lessons on the mutability of all things on earth, he, reverent and aged, with silver locks, never seeming to weary of pointing out and explaining the many interesting and artistic portions of the fabric ; I have often looked back on that witching hour of twilight we spent amongst Lanercost. 49 the tombs, associated as they are with men famous in the annals of chivalry of the north, whose lives were adorned by noble deeds, high resolve and emprise ; perhaps it may have been the soft, pensive glamour of the evening hour, for there was a spell of mystery, blending with romance and art, that did not mingle freely with the stern realities and harsh surroundings of the outer world. The tomb of Roland de Vaux is in the wall of the north transept. The fragments of the effigy of a knight, in red sandstone, supposed to be that of Roland, were, a i^\N years ago, discovered in the crypt, and are now placed on the tomb. How finely descriptive are the following lines of the Bard : — " Sir Roland de Vaux he hath laid him to sleep ; His blood it was fevered, his breathing was deep, He had been pricking^ against the Scott, The foray was long and the skir- mish hot ; His dinted helm and his buckler's plight, Bore token of a stubborn fight." In the north chapel of the choir is the tomb of Humphrey Lord Dacre, Warden of the Marches in the reign of Richard n., and also that of his wife, Mabel Parr, great aunt to Queen Catherine ; and tombs of the Howard family. But the most mag- nificent altar-tomb is that of Lord Dacre's, which stands in the centre of the choir, emblazoned with armorial bearings, a perfect source of delight to all lovers of heraldry. Beyond this, in the south transept, are effigies, presumably of the Edwardian period ; the whole choir is a shrine, or a valhalla, crumbling with memorials of the great. Lanercost was the favourite resting-place of the First Edward, for on three occasions he stayed here during his northern expeditions. On his first visit, in 1280, he was accompanied by his good Queen, Eleanor, on which occasion an altar cloth of silk was presented to the priory. During this visit a magnificent hunt was pro- claimed, and, attended by his barons, he rode forth and chased the wolf, wild boar, and red deer, in the adjoining forest of Inglewood ; apart from other royal game, we are told two hundred stags and hinds were killed. At Lanercost Edward spent the Tomb of Roland de Vaux. EDMUND BOGG. 5o Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland y and Ribblesdale. last six months of his Hfe, from Michaelmas, 1306, until the spring of 1307. Here the stern old warrior, victor in many a fight, may have felt the near approach of his victorious enemy — death ; for at no period of his life was he so impatient of restraint, or more determined to trample underfoot and subjugate the liberty of Scotland. Had he not, at the great Feast of Pentecost, in the old Abbey of Westminster, before marching north, sworn that he would avenge " The contempt done by Robert Bruce to God and the Church," after which he would never more bear arms against Christians, but would spend the remainder of his days warring against the infidels in Palestine, for the possession of the Holy Sepulchre ? No doubt this would be the most brilliant period of the priory's existence, gorgeous ceremonials and processions of monks, high mass and prayers for the welfare of the expedition, when the aged King, with his young and handsome Queen, Margaret, and his noble train of attendants and warriors, would often be present. Hither, with a splendid retinue, came the Pope's legate, Peter, Cardinal of Spain, on some temporal errand, yet adding his maledictions to the terrible curse of excommunication that hung o'er the devoted Bruce. Hither before the stern King were brought, covered with wounds, more dead than alive, Thomas and Alexander, brothers of Bruce, who had been captured in battle by Duncan Macdoil, a Galwegian chief But there was no mercy in that insatiable thirst for revenge which burned within the breast of the monarch, for we are told how they were hurried to Carlisle, dragged by horses round the city, hanged and quartered, their heads placed on spikes to adorn the city gates. But the end was not afar — a light was soon to illumine that dark, dreary night of Scotland. In the early summer of 1307 the King left Lanercost, borne on a litter, to Carlisle, and by easy stages followed the army to Burgh-on-Sands. Still stern, indomitable, resolute, and with his face fixed on Scotland, he died July 7th, 1307. We are not surprised at the actions of Bruce, who in after days swooped down on Lanercost and imprisoned the monks, and did other mischief — no doubt bitterly remembering the small mercy bestowed on his brothers. Thirty-five years later, King David, in his wrath, again bore down and despoiled the priory, burning and plundering, and reducing, says the chronicler, in expressive words, " In Nihilum, all they attacked." Continuing our journey, we cross the river by the stepping-stones, a little to the east of the old bridge, and follow the path winding through the woods. Looking back through the trees we obtain a most bewitching peep of Lanercost Priory. Through Nature's temples we wander by the loveliest of paths, trees and flowers breathing perfume ; now we descend into some attractive glen, and the path, alluring us onward again, rises high over the limpid brook, whispering tuneful melody ; stray glints of sunshine pierce the sombre depths of the woods, tints of emerald, gleams of gold ; the beauty of nature joining with birds and stream in one universal song of praise. Lanercost. 51 Through this arcadian woodland we approach Naworth Castle, standing high, stately, and grand, holding sentry over the vale. The approach from the south is very majestic, the front being strengthened by a curtain wall, strong corner towers, and emblazoned gateway, over which are the arms of the Dacres and the Howards. The Dacres of the north. Barons of Greystock and Gilsland, received their name from an ancestor who greatly distinguished himself under King Richard at the siege of Lanercost Priory, from the North. Acre. From the Dacres it passed by marriage to William Lord Howard, known for his Border exploits as " Bauld Willie " and " Belted Will." He was the ancestor of the Earls of Carlisle. It is in quadrangular shape, defended on three sides by deep ravines ; to the south, across the neck of land, ran two deep moats, and the ingress protected by drawbridge and barbican. The south front measurement is 208 feet. Sandford, writing in 1695, says : "Around it were pleasant woods and gardens; ground full of fallow deare feed on all somer tyme ; brave venison pasties and great store of reade deare on the mountains ; and white, wild cattel with black ears only on E2 52 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland, and Kibbles dale. the moors, and black heath-cockes and brone moor-cockes and their pootes, etc." An arched passage leads into a spacious courtyard. The large banqueting-hall is reached from the court by a broad flight of steps. The north end of this room contains a fine portrait of Charles the First and his Queen, Henrietta, by Vandyke, and other rare portraiture. There is also a fine suit of armour worn by Belted Will. The walls are hung with tapestry and ancient armour. Meditating within this banqueting-hall, fancy easily conjures forth the scenes of olden-time feast, revelry, and song, in the rude days when " might " was " right." The music-room also contains some very fine pictures by the old masters. The private apartments of Belted Will were in the south-east corner of the castle, and consisted of his oratory or private chapel, library, and bedroom ; these are kept intact, and are much the same as ^^^^^^^^^' >^[tM0 ^ 1>Il4.^ {]&hP,l Ri» aa l U ypi ^&ft ^P€r o^_jigr^D ■ Ij ^£^ ^^j^g}^a^ - L,ciijT?erco3/' Pr}ory during his lifetime During the great fire which took place at this castle, a secret room was discovered in this chamber ; also a secret passage, which is said to connect the castle with the priory of Lanercost. The view from the turrets of the castle is most entran- cing. The approach to Belted Will's rooms is by a staircase only wide enough to admit the body of one person, and the several doors, of immense thickness, were plated with iron and secured by huge locks and bolts. His body-guard consisted of one hundred and forty well-mounted troopers. During his wardenship his firmness and high courage did much to repress the pillaging on the Border, and his name became a terror to the moss-trooper and evildoer ; yet he was renowned for learning and for courage, and still pious withal. One story says that, once, whilst deeply engaged in his studies, he was disturbed by one of his officers, who had brought in some prisoners, and wished to know his orders regarding them. " Hang them, in the devil's Lanercost. 53 name," he answered peevishly, angered at the fellow's intrusion. This reminds one of the Jedburg's and Lydford justice : — "I oft have heard of Lydford law, Where, in the morn, men hang and draw, And sit in judgment after." When he had finished his studies he remembered the prisoners, and inquired after them. He was both surprised and grieved to find that his hasty orders had been literally fulfilled. Scott, in the " Lay of the Last Minstrel," in descriptive verse, The Banqueting Hall. graphically depicts the appearance of Lord between Richard of Musgrave and William " When for the lists they sought the plain, The stately *Ladye's silken rein Did noble Howard hold ; Unarmed by her side he walked, And much, in courteous phrase, they talked Of feats of arms of old. Costly his garb — his Flemish ruff Fell o'er his doublet, shaped of buft". Howard at Branksome, to witness the fight of Deloraine : — With satin slashed, and lined ; Tawny his boot, and gold his spur. His cloak was all of Poland fur, His horse with silver twined ; His Bilboa blade, by Marchmen felt, Hung in a broad and studded belt ; Hence, in rude phrase, the Borderers still Called noble Howard ' Belted Will.'" Lady Scott of Uranksome. 54 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. The tree which served as a gallows was an aged oak even in Belted Will's time, yet it survived this rude baronial tenure by three centuries, but at length became dangerous, the top being too heavy for the trunk, and it fell in 1896. *' Straightway he taketh the moss-trooper, Lord Howarde thought of that hasty word, He taketh him to the tree ; Whenever he passed the tree, No trial was there, nor given a prayer, For ever was heard a raven bird He hanged him speedily ! Croaking most piteously." It is here opportune to express our admiration and appreciation of the extreme kindness of the Carlisle family. We were permitted to walk about the vast range of park, gardens, and the fine baronial residence, and view the splendid works of art, and other antiquities, at leisure, and without any hindrance, interruption, or formal permission ; in fact, we were allowed to go wherever we pleased. We are indebted, further, to Lady Mary Howard for her voluntary permis- sion of a view of the drawing and several other rooms, in which we were very greatly inter- ested. Unlike many other noble families, the wish of the Howards seems to be not to reserve all the splendour of their vast estates to themselves, but freely to allow others to enjoy the objects of art and antiquities, and to ramble at will. Their motto, if we may say so, seems to be, "Enjoy yourself rationally, and destroy nothing." Across the park, and along the beautiful avenue crowning a ridge, we wander to Brampton, the capital of Gilsland, a small market town of two or three thousand inhabitants, a place of some pretence, yet withal quaint and rustic. The houses are chiefly of brick ; a large hill rising from the edge of the town is called the Moat. Near the summit are evident signs of its having been in a state of defence in bygone days. On the surface of the hill, from whence is a fine view of Brampton, is a statue erected to the memory of George William, the seventh Earl of Carlisle. Navvorth. Lanercost. ss Now we enter the valley of the Gelt, a charming little river of that name, which joins the Irthing near Lanercost. It is a delightful walk, streams flashing and gurgling, miniature waterfalls, sombre aisles and sylvan paths winding and wandering by stream and towering fell, clothed to their very summits in the green grandeur of early spring ; tapering firs shooting upwards like pinnacles ; silvery birch, stately oak, and supple ash clothed in the refreshing and varied tints of foliage, forming sweet bowers for the little twining Gelt flashing onwards, its trembling murmurs borne on the breeze, adds a charming witchery o'er the scene. How Hill, a place of meadow nooks, footpaths, and stiles, stands, as its name implies, on a how, or hill, crowned with the light green larch, and the darker canopy of Scotch firs, whose trunks have roseate hue in the waning sunset. The place is very picturesque and rural. The ducks are disporting in the village pond, and the silvery laughter of children at play upon the green, awake pleasant memories of boyhood days ; the undulating distance of fair pasture lands, cornfield, and wood, stretch away over the vale of the Irthing to the upland moor above Liddlesdale, displaying such vistas and effects of colour, when the gloaming deepens, which makes a man's heart leap with joy. At Hayton, resting in a richly cultivated district, is another How Hill. On the surface is a level plateau, now covered with trees of giant growth ; the spot is still known as Castle Hill, and is said to have been a fortified residence in the days of Belted Will. Cannon balls and other relics of war have been found here. It was a Sabbath eve when we entered the churchyard and rested under the branches of a beech tree, and listened to the sound of the organ, with the sweet voices of children blending in praise to their Maker. Outside, on the trees, the choristers of na- ture mingled their rich melody with the songs of the children, as if enraptured with the soothing strains from within ; and on the cross over the roof of the chancel, a blackbird perched, and poured out a melodious cadence — a deep spiritual ecstasy— as if he, too, ^^^ ^'^^" ^' ^"'^y- would fain add his praises to a bountiful Creator. The district between Hayton and Warwick Bridge is very pleasant, soft, hazy, blue vistas, stretching far away. The lanes are sweetly wooded, and afford delightful shade to a tired traveller. EDMUND BOGG. 56 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. We have now reached the banks of the Eden, which we shall follow for some considerable distance before crossing to the Tees valley. Little Corby is a quaint hamlet, with many features of a bygone century remaining ; the group of old thatched cottages, with garden and orchard, trees overhanging the Eden, help to form one of the most artistic groupings of meadow, cottage, and river, scarcely to be surpassed ; and the beautiful twining of the river at this place, forming true lines of beauty, is picturesque in the extreme. The pastoral charm of Warwick Bridge is sadly marred by several ugly mills, which, during our visit, were not in a very flourishing condition, judging from the tenantless houses adjoining. Warwick village, and its ancient kirk, crowns the eminence about a mile west. Crossing the fine bridge over the Eden, we pass through the meadows. Holme- Eden mansion and Holme-Eden church, with its graceful spire, is on the east bank. The pretty church, built of sandstone, harmonises sweetly with the green ivy which embraces its walls. 'Tis a beautiful picture, the rich green of cattle-flecked meadows, the river winding through overhanging woods, and brown waters eddying over rock shelves of red sandstone. The bank, strewn with debris, bespeaks of the angry river at flood time. '%C.^s'' ^ " ^;*\^ U» CHAPTER V. .xFX. THE EDEN COUNTRY. K^ ANDERING on, we soon reach a scene of surpassing loveliness, a perfect El Dorado of delight, the river, flowing deep down through the red sandstone hills, forming a series of pictures, perhaps the most exquisite in the north of England. The village of Wetheral is chiefly scattered around a large green, and is built on the high bank just at the entrance to this charming region ; but the most interesting parts are the church, abbey ruins, old hostelry, and white-walled cottages below the village, on the low shelving bank adjoining the river, whilst the huge railway bridge spans the .,^ju>, stream just beyond. The line, stretching from Newcastle to Carlisle, ^^3^ was opened for traffic early in the "thirties." A lady acquaintance of mine who remembers the occasion, told me of the great excitement which prevailed on the approach of the first train, crowds of country folk having travelled miles to witness the novel and strange sight. Unfortunately an accident occurred, by the bursting of the boiler ; the spectators became panic-stricken, and a stampede of women and children was the result ; and we are told that even men fled, helter-skelter, across the fields, fearful and trembling, anxious to place as much distance between themselves and the hissing, " panting fiend " as possible. The surroundings of the church are extremely lovely, the edifice being delightfully sheltered by trees, and the soothing music of the stream falls on the heart in witching melody. From the number of tombstones, we should imagine it to be a favourite place of burial. Near the west doorway is an ancient yew, remarkable for its vast growth. The 58 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. entire population of the village might find shelter under its ample boughs and branches, which embrace thirty-six tombstones. An inscription on one tombstone records : ** In this vain world short was my stay, An' empty was my laughter ; I go before and lead the way, And thou comes jogging after." The church contains an ^^%y of Sir Richard Salkeld, Knight, and the inscription says : — " Here lies Sir Richard Salkeld the Knight, Who sometimes in this land was miche of might ; The Captain and Keeper of Carlisle was he, And aiso the Lord of Corby. And now he lies under this stane, And his lady and wife. Dame Jane. In the Year of our Lord God one thousand Five hundred as I understand, The eighteenth of February, That Gentle knight was buried here. I pray you all that this does see, Pray for their souls for charity, For as they are, so mon we be." At Sir Richard's feet is a lion and a helmet under his head. There is a beautiful marble group in the side chapel to members of the Howard family, by Nolkins. The gateway tower of Wetheral Abbey is all that remains of that old-time edifice, and forms the entrance to an adjoining farm. In the meadows, however, the foundations are easily to be traced. The roof of the tower, which is battlemented, can be gained Brisco. 59 by a newel staircase. From the top fine views are obtained of the woods around Corby, which are adorned with statues and classical sculpture, access to which is gained by the ferry. The ferryman's rural cottage can be seen on the opposite bank, resting 'neath the woods. Midway between Wetheral and Carlisle is the pleasant village of Scotsby, with its new church crowning the eminence on the verge of its fine village-green. Cumwhinton, resting in a small hollow, is further to the south, and is ex- tremely rural, with several thatched cottages, whose walls seem to be composed of red rubble, but the black muUions and door frames add rather a gruesome as- pect to the scene. Still further to the south-west is Brisco and Wrea, in the vale of the Petteril, a beautiful stream rising in Greystoke Park. Along its banks a lover of nature, or a peaceful angler, may muse away many a quiet summer's day. Brisco is a very ancient spot, with white and yellow- washed cottages, ivy- clad, with overhanging thatched eaves, and is one of those dreamy places where the life of the inhabitants seem to run evenly onward — toil and rest succeeding day by day. In one of the oldest cottages we partook of our tea ; the roof was spotless with whitewash, and the rough beams on which the roof has rested for three hundred years are bent and twisted with age. Such old cottages add art and poetry to the landscape. How sweetly the chimes of the " grandfather's clock " sounds, bringing forth memories and glimpses of our childhood, the old clock and pictures in the parlour, and familiar voices which have long been silent. Brisco Post-office is a model of bygone village architecture. HE IH w '%w8/%iw^ '^'^^Sf^y^^js i^H^H HEIBmI i HH ^^ f ^^m 9|H fe^t ^^^^B I^^BSBh •% ^ "" "^ — ^L^i^^'^M HH H^I^HIP^"'' r ^^^s f^HBi^BBB w^^^^^^^^B^HHKKks^^'^*'^ ^ t'"S^mMaagi^^^BEI W^^SSm gBEm^^BBSs^^f*' •';^^^^S^K^m bS^^BBkbES '^^^^l\>^m'lSJiBaK^!^S B^EBi " i^BMB B^B^MIBSjWy.^ > '^ L J'M • "^ tItJ^ ^^I^SfySf ^^^H ^ .*r;* -*-5^^^2?^^ a.^^^^K~^a ^^HmB H^^^^ ^S ^^^^M ^^^^S^^^E^S^^ M^^B/^^m^g^-< , -^^ r'<'. ^^■Hi ^^i^r. ^^H^^^H l^B ^^^ ^ ^HHH hHSh ^^^•^ ^ ^BHB^Iilll g^JJ^j^^lSBMB ^^^ i^^ffla BSH^^a9HH^HBd!m^^^^S9^H sn I: -ij IHMl ^KBBB^ g" -•'i^^ ^^^P^^j^^^yfll ^^HhHE^H^HkbH S^ *"■*»- ^^^&S^c^ j^^^^y**^ ».L "x-^^^^mE^BJ^^^BB M^M jfefey ^?C- "^ ^^wH^H BHIS ,^m ^^hH^h H I^^^^^^K^^ n 1 ■1 The Eden at Wetheral. EDMUND BOGQ. ^O Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. Retracing our steps to Wetheral, we follow the windings of the Eden through the woods to the caves, or, perhaps, a better term would be the cells, of a hermit. Legend relates that they were hewn out of the rock by a younger son of Constantine, a King of Scotland — Cumberland and Westmoreland at that date being part of Scotland. Here the Prince took up his quarters, and lived and died a hermit. The cells were after- wards used as a place of refuge during the Border wars. They are divided into three distinct apartments, and a battlement terrace runs in front and impends over the river, shut in by thick woods. The spot would be a secure hiding-place. Access to the caves must have been by a ladder from the river-side. The path now runs through deep clustered foliage, forming Eden-like bowers. We rest from the glare of the sun under the shadow of an immense elm ; deep down the river flows sweetly. How beautiful and holy are the solemn woods, and how graceful is the motion of the water, now bubbling and fuming, anon calm and noiseless as sleep, or giving forth a subdued slumberous song, until there steals over us a rest in which the stern realities of life are dispelled. It is the voice of nature lulling us to dreamy slumber and into a reverie of bright vision. A heavy-ladened bee, seeking its hive, murmurs past ; birds of beautiful plumage, and sweeter song, are carolling over- head, and from myriad insects steals forth that continuous humming sound. A king- fisher shoots past like a sunbeam on the surface of the water, and ousels shriek angrily as they flit from rock to rock in shallow stream. Shadows dance, and light flickers on the woodland path ; monster roots and far-reaching arms of trees of giant growth stretch across the shimmering water, and are mirrored therein. Trunks, torn and twisted by the hurricane, lay across the path. The one feature which arrests the attention of the observer is the richness of the luxurious vegetation, which thrives so abundantly along the course of the Eden. Such are the beautiful banks of the Eden above Wetheral. Some five or six miles further up the river, Armathwaite reposes dreamily in the bosom of the vale. The church is a most primitive structure, standing on the sloping hill side, above the village street, and is almost hidden by yew and evergreen trees. One curious feature is the bell, which is rung from the outside, and a cover is raised to protect the ringer during stormy weather. The woodwork of the interior is very barn- like in character. Strange to say, the first marriage ever solemnised in this sacred edifice since its erection, over two hundred years ago, took place so recently as the 1 8th of February, 1897, the contracting parties being Dr. E. G. Walls, son of the late Rev. R. G. Walls, of Boothby Hall, Lincolnshire, and Miss Alice Blanche Dixon, third daughter of Mr. G. H. Dixon, D.L., of Armathwaite Hall. The bridge, of three arches and long angular buttresses, is most charmingly situated. The water above and below the bridge is a famous fishing length, and Lazonby, 6\ many salmon, and also trout, of fabulous weight, have been captured here. Proceed- ing along the west bank of the Eden, through park-like meadows, a more lovely place in which to wander cannot well be imagined ; 'tis a scene long to be remembered. The deep sound of the river falling over the weir ; salmon leaping out of the stream in their attempt to scale the fall, for a moment lay shimmering, only to be hurled back by the glittering water ; the deep woods which clothe the hills on the east bank, the old water-mill and wheel, the rustic wooden bridge over the mill-race, and the moss and lichen ; the rural farm, with its curious corners and angles, where fowl and beast run riot. The miller's wife is feeding the poultry and pigeons from a large skip ; there is a rush, a flutter and scramble, and a hurried feed and many a skirmish. Still south, across the wide moor, on the west side of the river, the heather is in full bloom, and the moor appears gorgeous in colour. A five miles' walk brings us to Lazonby. It is a large, scattered village, with no special features. The situation is most beautiful, clean, and healthy, standing high and dry above the west bank of the Eden. There is a new church, and a typical old Scotch fir in the graveyard. Between this place, of Danish occupation, and Kirkos- wald, a mile away, on the opposite bank of the river, of Saxon occupa- tion, there has been a feud for centuries, and the rivalry has not yet entirely disappeared. The bridge, midway between the two villages, is the rendezvous for the young people. The road now passes beneath a beautiful avenue, the river winding on one hand through a most fertile vale. At the entrance to Kirkoswald stands the kirk in rather a singular situation, being entirely hidden from the village by a large hill, rising immediately from its walls. The path to the church is through a most beautiful avenue of trees, of patriarchal Armathwaite Mill. EDMUND BOGG. 62 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. growth— nature's cathedral aisle (God's Gothic)— the branches interlacing in such picturesque combination and loveliness, the lofty trunks, like columns, shoot upwards, clean and shapely, and the thriving branches rise and spread, as if to seek communion with heaven. Surely such scenes suggested to the monks of old a cathedral aisle. How beautifully shadow and gleam chequer the path, and how loudly the rooks clamour in the tree tops on this sunny morn. Through such gifts of nature we approach the holy ground where the villagers have worshipped, and the dead have rested, through the centuries. Near to an ancient y^^ are two tomb slabs, incised with floriated crosses ; another, evidently the tomb of a priest, with crosses and sword, and the dragon of superstition and paganism darting the sting of venom on the symbol of true faith. Immedi- ately under the west end is a well of pure crystal water. The stream which feeds the well, which is known as St. Oswald's Well, flows beneath the foundations of the church, typical of the living water. In the early days of the Saxon kings the holy fathers baptised the people of the surrounding district at this fountain. Outside the edifice many relics abound, which attest to the antiquity of the spot. The interior has been judiciously restored, and retains many interesting features. The font is Norman, and at the entrance to the chancel, the base of the early church has been left, which affords a study for those interested in ancient structure. On the old glass in the windows are the shields of the Howards, Musgraves, and Baron's Dacre. Within the altar railings is the mutilated G^gy of a lady, cut out of red sandstone, and on the opposite side the tomb cover of a warrior priest, with sword and crozier. The church is dedicated to St. Oswald. As we have remarked, the sacred edifice is entirely hid from the A Glimpse of the Eden Country. Kirkoswald Castle. 63 village by a large hill, on which is built a bell tower, which can be descried for miles around. A few hundred yards to the south-east, and built on another eminence, are the ruins of Kirkoswald Castle embedded in trees. Its position, remains, and the moat all point to its importance in early Norman days. " This great castle of Kirkoswald was one of the fairest fabrics that eyes ever looked upon. The hall I have seen is one hundred yards long." It was erected by Ranulph d'Enjain, and afterwards came into the possession of Hugh de Morville, and thence to the Miltons, the Dacres, and the Musgraves. Most of its interior adornments were removed to Naworth, on the building of the latter. The place is now silent and deserted save by the birds, who still sing as sweetly, peradventure, as when harp and revelry sounded within the walls. Kirkoswald we might describe as an ideal village, and is situate on the ground rising from the foot of Tower Hill. Here is an old Tudor mansion, which will amply repay a visit. At the bottom of the village a turbulent stream, the Raven, crosses the street, and renders the scene more pleasing and beautiful. Higher up the street is the Square or Market Place, with the cross and part of stocks remaining, and the whole appearance bespeaks a town of the last century. Several houses of better class architecture still remain, and have evidently seen more prosperous days. About two miles north from Kirkoswald, the little river Croglin passes through a glen of great depth and beauty, called the Nunnery Walks, from a Nunnery at one time adjoining, but now demolished. On either side of the glen are romantic walks, under majestic cliffs and over- hanging trees. At flood time the roar of the waters creates a solemn and profound impression upon the visitor. The woodland banks rise on either side from one to two hundred feet above the river. At the entrance the water falls down a great depth into an immense cauldron-like hole, seething and roaring over huge shelves of rock, and immense boulders lay athwart the stream ; moss, lichens, ferns, and hearts-tongue pro- trude from every niche and cranny. Monstre trees, uprooted long ago, bridge the stream in several places. In the solitude of this ravine, on a September evening, we are resting by a gurgling waterfall ; deep shadows are fast creeping o'er the scene. The only signs of life are trout leaping, and trying in vain to scale the water- fall, — again and again they shoot out of the water, only to be hurled back by the force of the current. An ousel dives into the river at our feet, and other birds, only to be seen in these secluded places, fly past. A few hundred yards lower down, where the Croglin joins the Eden, we emerge from the deep sombre woodland into the open moor, and the hue and glory of the waning sunlight, reflecting in the Eden the vermilion sky and all things on its banks, appears, as our eyes follow its windings, like a trailing pathway of gold stretching to the shores of heaven. 64 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. A sweet Sabbath morning, and we are strolling by the side of the Eden, which flows onward with calm, unruffled tranquility. On either bank are the villages of Lazenby and Kirkoswald The sun shines brightly, gentle breezes are wafted from the hills, and rustle among the leaves, and the green of woodland and meadow are showing signs of approaching winter. It is the time of harvest, and the yellow corn- fields are dotted here and there with sheaves, blending sweet contrast. High above yonder can be seen Crossfell, like a solitary sentinel, looming dark and threatening in the background. At our feet the waters murmur out tuneful melody, and the sweet chime of Sabbath bells from the two churches float down the bosom of the river, and lull our souls into reverie and peace. That lone glen, which reaches down to the Eden, is the Del-Raffen, a stream flowing through a winsome little glen, which here enters the Eden. It is one of those out- of-the-world and unknown spots which amply repays the tourist for exploring. You can trace its varied windings from Crossfell by the line of trees which thrive along the banks of the stream ; every line and curve is beautiful, and suggests a picture. It is up these se- cluded becks that the salmon and large trout force their way in the autumn to spawn. At flood times the ascent is particularly easy, but the small streams, which the fish love to penetrate, fall as rapidly as they have risen, and imprison the fish in the deeper pools. The poacher is well aware of this proceeding, and with the aid of his bull's-eye lantern in the night-time, can easily secure as many fish as he could carry home, and none but his wife the wiser for his adventure. To the right is a very ancient pack-horse track, in use long before the moor was enclosed. Just above the vale, to the south, is the village of Glassonby, with no particular feature except its sweet rural seclusion. About half a mile south-west is Addingham Church. A primitive air and solitariness pervades the spot, standing in holy meekness guarding the moor with its sacred presence, the nearest house being about half a mile away ; its very solitude soothes the soul, and impresses us with peace and sanctity as we meditate amongst the tombs. The Del-Raffen. Addingham. 65 The churchyard contains the upper portion of a fine Saxon Cross, and also the base of another is in the chancel, and a portion of a shaft in the porch. This goes far to prove the existence of an Early Saxon church, which would be destroyed, or taken down on the rebuilding of the Norman structure. The church has been restored within the present century, and apart from those features already mentioned, the piscina, and a fine old parish chest, with two locks, there is nothing of interest — the chancel arch is only a wretched imitation of Norman style. There is a deep-rooted tradition prevalent that this church once stood lower in the vale, somewhere by the Eden side. We have carefully thought over this curious supposition, and can only account for it in this manner : — Long Meg, the immense Druidical circle, is only half-a-mile distant south-west, and before the advent of Christianity in those parts (say up to the sixth century), would be the great temple for the Druidic worship, on which mysteries the people would gaze with strange and mingled feelings of supersti- tion and awe — grand, solitary, and savage, yet impressive in its sub- limity. Fourteen centuries have effaced most things off the face of the earth — Woden and Thor, the gods and temples of the Saxons, have perished and become forgotten, but the rock temples of the Druids still live on as if imperishable, and this tradition of the church, or temple, having once stood some distance from its present site, we should imagine is neither more nor less than memories, which have come floating down the aisles of time, handed from father to son, of that great heathen temple, whose High Priest once held the children of the Vale shackled in pagan mysteries. From the remains of crosses and other visible signs, the church evidently stands on the ground where it was originally founded. It is dedicated to Saint Michael, and churches dedicated to this Patron Saint, usually stand on high ground ; in this instance, it is the highest in the vicinity. Half a mile across the fields, to the south, as we have already mentioned, stands the largest Druidical Temple in Britain — Long Meg and her daughter. It is formed of sixty-seven or eight large stones of three hundred and fifty yards in 66 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. circumference. Long Meg is a much larger stone than the rest, and is composed of granite, and stands a few paces apart from the rest, and out of the circle. Four other stones are in position, as if meant to form a huge altar. Wordsworth writes thus : — " When 1 first saw this monument, as I came upon it by surprise, I might overrate its importance as an object ; but though it would not bear a comparison with Stonehenge. I must say I have not seen any other relic of those dark ages which can pretend to rival it in singularity and dignity of appearance." When we look on this array of stones, grey with the lapse of ages, and furrowed by the storms of two thousand years, standing in silence on the moor, the curlew and lapwing flying over them, giving forth their spirit-like cry — the wind moans, and Long Meg. the helm storm raves around, but nothing pierces the veil of mystery which enshrouds those silent rocks, mute witnesses of strange scenes and ceremonies, and sacrificial offerings, long centuries since vanished with the sphinx, enshrouded in mystery, that veiled those sacred rites. The British Isles were the great centre of Druidic priest- hood, and in Britain was celebrated the most secret of their mysteries. A few hundred yards to the east there is a smaller circle, composed of eleven unhewn stones, and about eighteen yards in circumference. This smaller circle is very rarely visited. A mile and a half still south is the extremely rural village of Hunsanby, serenely encircling a small green, nestling in pictorial charm on the lowest tier of the Cumber- land Fells. A large stream passes the foot of the village. There are two bridges — one for heavy traffic, and the other, a rude one-arched structure of pack-horse style, Langwathhy. 67 forming a picture replete with bygone association. How pleasant it is to watch the ducks of spotless hue disport, and geese and gander patiently cleanse every stain from their downy covering, and hiss and screech as if in delight ere they marched, in stately file, to hold solemn conclave on the green. Near the low bridge formerly stood the Pound ; the generation of its use has departed, and the walls are consequently in ruin. Less than half a mile west is the small hamlet of Winskill, with no particular feature of interest in its one long street. In the centre is a large pond, or mere, of filthy-looking stagnant water — its very appearance seems suggestive of fever. But as we passed over the meadows towards Langwathby, a very sweet series of pleasant pictures, suggestive of country life of the olden time, came under our notice. The water for household purposes, to drink, etc., had to be obtained at a well, a large meadow's length from the village, some three or four hundred paces distant. The stream, or well, issues from a sandstone bank. It is a most secluded spot, and from the fountain, which is overhung by the branches of a large elm, not a vestige of house or habitation can be seen. It was spring time on our visit, and the little dell, being protected from the biting east winds, and opening to the south, daffodils, primroses, and cowslips were in full bloom. Many a scene of childish fun and frolic has this spot witnessed. It is also the meeting- place of lovers ; youths and maidens have met here for centuries to whisper the old, old story, and plighted their troth, to walk hand in hand together in good or evil repute the rest of their lives. Countless generations, passing to and fro, has this old tree witnessed, and children have sheltered, playing beneath its boughs, or resting on the green sward. The old men bent their weary steps thither to rest and muse on days long gone by, and recount stories to the young children, how the water sprite and elfin people were wont to visit this spot in the moonlight and career in circles, and dance to the melody of elfin music ; but in this matter-of-fact age of steam and electricity, the fairies have fled, yet as a proof of their former existence, the aged men point to the deeper green of the fairy circles, still F2 At the Well. EDMUND BOGG. 6S Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Ribblesdale. to be seen, thus testifying to their nocturnal visit. Now the smihng faces, and troops of village girls with hoop and pail, will soon cease to congregate at this spot, for this is an age of waterworks and reservoirs, and the small village of Winskill is to have a constant supply of water brought to their doors, and the old-time trysting place will be a thing of the past. But as an elderly native remarked to the writer : " When we du hev't watter brow't et toun, we sail still gan dune to fetch et frae t'well ; hisen't it a vast mure nataral te hev t'watter pure hout et grund, than te hev it out et lead pipes," and he grumbled sorfily about this innovation of the Waterworks Committee. A hundred paces to the west, Briggle Beck, a large stream from the East Cumberland Falls, flows past, in noisy prattle, to join the Eden near Salkeld. The path leads across this stream to Langwathby. A circular mound of earth, evidently a tumula of some old-world chieftain, is to be seen by the path. In it was discovered, some twenty years ago, a large skeleton, also a vase full of coins, said to be Roman. Over the brow of the hill we drop down into that most rural of villages, Langwathby. The Langwath, or Meadow, before the en- closure of the common — a long stretch of meadow, reaching by the east side of the river, was so called, in the centre of which stood, as it does to-day, the Shepherd's Inn, in old days a resort of drovers and shepherds. Langwathby is one of those pleasant spots so dear to the soul of the true artist, where evdiything is so delightfully irregular, curious nooks the most primitive, and ancient gables, broom-thatched cottages, with deep overhanging eaves. What sweet rustic scenes can be witnessed on the large green on a summer's day ; children whooping at play, flocks of large grey old geese cackling and screeching, and the old patriarch, the gander, hissing and fuming at every passer- by ; a little terrier yelps angrily from behind a farm gate, ducks nestle drowsily on the green, or wander down the alleys, where a kitten is seen disporting with the tail of its angry dame. The church, which has been restored of late years, is of no architectural importance, and possesses few features of interest. In a chest in a room under the belfry we found a helmet and cuirass, probably worn by some ancient squire at Flodden Field. A bit of the Green. EDMUND BOGG. G^eat S a Ik eld. 69 On an autumn day we have wandered by the river to where Bryggle beck meets the Eden. Little Salkeld, with its cool green lanes, is just to the east, whilst over the river, on the brow of yonder hill, is the more important village of Great Salkeld, the birthplace of the celebrated Dick Whittington, with its ancient tower and fine Norman doorway. The day is most enjoyable ; we rested under a willow, as we have said, where the beck meets the river, the banks are fringed with meadows and flowers, old lanes, by-paths, and hedgerows ; a pair of moorhens flutter from under the bank, evidently aware of our presence. Deep down in the brown pool at our feet can be seen the speckled fish, enough to make the heart of an angler leap with joy. The eye for a brief space was unconscious of the living glories around, for the ear was ravished by gushing strains, as with delicious ripple of fairy music the river glided over its shingly bed, giving forth such melodious gurglings, as if sin and death were not of this world. Yet even as we meditate, sheltered from observation by the willow, a heron, with outstretched wings, flaps slowly down the vale and alights, wades into the river, and silently watches for prey — so even on the Eden there is pillage and death. As we wan- der up the stream and along the by-lanes, other sights and sounds of nature greet us. A flock of rooks are holding solemn conclave, and a few lapwings and starlings join in the chatter. The cause of this strange assembly and council we find arises from the heron having dared to in- vade their privacy. As we proceed large trout and other fish glide from the side into the deeper ""'^ '^^™^^^'' Langwathby. .. booo. water without any apparent effort. A few rabbits rise on their haunches, peer at us with large startled eyes, and then dart away to their burrows. How beautiful is the contrast — the brown river and green glades against the fields of ripening grain. Now on the breeze comes the sound of the harvester, the creaking of carts and waggons, and the merry peals of rippling laughter. A mile or so below Langwathby bridge the Eamont and Eden meet. 'Tis a beautiful scene to sit and watch the silvery Eamont come flowing to meet the larger river. It was one of those beautiful moonlight nights, and at that hour when all animated nature had sunk to slumber — there was no sound save that of the bubble and flow of meeting waters. As we sat and looked through the branches of large 5^0 Wanderings 07i the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. trees overhanging the bank, it seemed verily to our musing to be typical of Thomas Moore's " Vale of Avoca," or his " Bendeemer's Stream." " There's a bower of roses by Bendeemer's stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long. In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To set in the roses and hear the bird's song." Yet as we sat and looked on the silver river reflecting the trees and the sky in its bosom, four large herons, with melancholy shriek, glide, ominous with noiseless wing, from the water, disturbing the harmony of the night. As I wandered back by the river through the meadows a startled otter plunged into the stream, and the rabbits sped into the brushwood. Soft-eyed kine cropping the dewy grass loomed into our vision like ghosts of night, and the moon silvered the earth in pensive beauty. There is a sub- stantial bridge over the Eden at Lang- wathby, and the river is here of great width. A picturesque cottage adorns the bank at the foot on one side. The house is overshadowed by a large elm tree ; hollyhocks and other large plants are thriving abun- dantly, and old railings twist and twine by the water. We leave the road and cross the meadows to Edenhall village, less than a mile away, one of the sweetest spots, sacred in pastoral charm and peaceful seclusion, with cottages sheltered by massive trees, the home of birds ; sweet garden plots, where asters, sunflowers, dahlias, peonies, scarlet, white, and yellow flowers mingle ; old porches and gables, where ivy and trailing plant love to cling, and lichen and moss clothe the old roofs in sweetness. The vicarage forms a very interesting picture, with quaint gables (date about 1650). Through the park we reach the church, which is dedicated to St. Cuthbert. This is one of the spots where the monks, bearing the body of the saint, rested awhile during their long and weary pilgrimage. The present structure dates A Bend of the Eamont. Rdenhatl. ;t from the Norman period, but has been much mutilated during alterations. Some of the windows are of great interest, containing fragments of ancient glass — one represents King Ceowlyn and the Saint. The chancel arch is plaster, a poor imitation of Norman work. Within the chancel rails is a most interesting slab with brasses of a knight in armour and a lady, and there are several shields and crests to the Musgraves and their alliances The font is Early Norman. The Giant's Caves are a few hundred yards from the church, on the banks of the Eamont. These recesses, three in number, are hewn out of the sandstone cliff, and have probably been used as hiding-places in the time of the Scottish raids. This is the spot where the supposed adventure of Sir Lancelot took place with the mighty Tarquin, a knight who had never been worsted in battle ; yet Sir Lancelot, the peerless warrior, slew him, and liberated three-score knights and four. The largest caves were formerly protected with iron gates. There are several traditions respecting these caves, one of which connects them with Ewan Cesario, whose singular grave- stones are to be seen in Penrith churchyard. The park is of considerable extent and beauty, where a herd of fallow deer browse, across which we wander to the hall, which, strictly speaking, has no architectural adornment, but is simply an ordinary English gentleman's man- sion. It is the seat of the Musgraves, whose ancestors came over in that great train of adventurers to win an inheritance in Britain. They were first settled at Musgrave by the Eden, and afterwards at Hartley Castle, which stood so delightfully overlooking the vale of the above river at Kirkby Stephen ; from hence they removed to Eden Hall, resting so luxuriant in that angle of pasture-land, formed by the meeting of the Eamont and the Eden. To the west of the Hall are two enormous cedars, and in the gardens at the foot of the terrace steps is the Fairies' Well, which is also known as St. Cuthbert's Well. It is choicely embosomed by boxwood bushes. A tumbler is placed by the well, so that pilgrims may be refreshed. We drank to the memory of the fairies who once, and may still, sport in revelry in this sequestered and hallowed spot. But the most interesting relic of old which is interwoven by such winsome legendary is an antique drinking glass, known far and wide as the " Luck of Eden Hall." It is a rare specimen of antique art in glass. ^2 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. swelling in graceful curves upwards to the rim, enamelled and ornamented on the outside with a variety of designs in crimson, blue, and yellow. Legend relates how the Musgraves became possessed of this ancient relic as follows : — Once on a time the fairies, whose rendezvous was in the park, were holding, one evening, high revel at the well already mentioned. An attendant from the Hall, having reason to go there, surprised the festive party in the midst of their gambols ; espying the curious glass near the well he adroitly seized it. The fairies, not wishing to lose their talisman, a struggle took place for its possession, in which the elvesfolk were worsted, and took to flight, crying out as they vanished — " If that glass should break or fall, Farewell the luck of Edenhall." Another legend relates how a knight, returning from the wars, came accidentally on the fairies disporting in the park by moonlight, and in the confusion and flight which followed, left the cup behind, which the knight took possession of. A story in ballad tells of a foot-page fleeing in the night-time to Penrith to seek the leech to the aid of his mistress, the Ladye Isabel, who lay in a deadly swoon. On the way he was met by a weird woman, " wi glamour in her 'ee." The page-boy seeing this, told his story, and he was advised that if the efforts of the leech should prove of no avail, he must seek the fairies' well by moonlight. The leech he rode to Edenhall, The while uprose the moon ; But his craft is vain, and his simples naught, To loose the deadly swoon. The page-boy, who dearly loved the fair ladye for her many kindnesses, &c., remembered the words of the wise woman. "So softly crept he down the stair. And out by the secret door ; And he was aware of a strange music He never had heard before. And slowly paced he o'er the mead, And heard the self-same sound ; And there he saw a companye A-dancing round and round. So beautiful their faces shone, So bright their silken sheen ; He could but dread to look thereon, And yet he looked I ween. Oh, merrily did they laugh and dance, Still tripping round and round ; But not a blade of grass did bend, No flowers sunk upon the ground. EdenhalL 73 Anon they pause, and a crystal cup Is dipped in the bubbling spring, And gliding goes from lip to lip, All round the fairy ring. And ever it dips and fills again, And while the revellers drink, The brimming water falls like pearls Down from the sparkling brink. But the fairy that bears that cup around No mortal eye may see ; Oh, could my lady drain that cup. Thought the little foot-page on knee. Scarce had he thought than to him glides The cup from the bubbling spring ; Him paused before, yet who it bore, Did naught of shadow fling. He trembled sore, but he took the cup, For the sake of his dear ladye. And fast the drops fell down like pearls, As he rose up from knee. And at his feet upon the grass, A written scroll was thrown ; Then all at once the music ceased. And the fairy folk were gone. He took the scroll and he took the cup, Them to the hall he bore ; The Lady Isabel did drink, And her deadly swoon was o'er. And the little foot-page [lord ; He brought the scroll and showed it to his Sir Ralph he looked thereon and read In olden style the words — ' If that cuppe Should break or falle, Farewell the Lucke Of Edenhalle.' Sir Ralph de Musgrave made a feast, For joy over his ladye ; And the little foot-page he stood by her chair, And blithest of all was he. Sir Ralph de Musgrave built a church In sweet Saint Cuthbert's prayse, That men might know when came the lucke, And think thereon alwayes." The cup has had some very narrow escapes. Once the gay revelling Duke of Wharton let it slip from his hands, but it was saved by the dexterity of the butler, who caught it in his napkin. In reference to this incident, the same duke says, in his ballad known as the " Drinking Match of Edenhall," "God prosper long from being broke, The Luck of Edenhall ; A doeful drinking bout and song, There lately did befall." Amongst several other ballads, one of the best perhaps is by Ludwig Uhland, which has been translated by Longfellow. CHAPTER VI. AN OLD-WORLD BORDER. TRETCHING from the centre of the Tees valley a few- miles below Rokeby on the east ; to Appleby, and Brougham on the west, runs an ancient Border Kingdom of England and Scotland, and in pre-Conquest days a battle-ground between the old British Anglo-Dane and >,y,^ ^ ^.^ ^^^^ii^-"^^ ^^ -^^^^ ^'^^ Scot. As a proof of this, we find stretched /y^^^^^N^^ |"§\.^7>\ over this old border line ruins of those mighty strong- holds reared, in the first instance, to guard and protect the newly gained frontier which was never fairly won by the Anglo-Norman until the beginning of the Twelfth Century, or until after Rufus had reared that mighty castle of Carlisle, and the New-Castle on the Tyne, after which Upper Teesdale, the great table-land of Stain Moor, the Eden valley and Lakeland became part of the English nation. The dyke and rampart, stretching south from Tees valley at Gainford, is also a border-line of even earlier centuries. Coming to Anglo-Norman times, we find the ruins of frontier defence, such as Mortham Tower, a typical border peel. Raby Castle, the home of the Nevilles, standing there so stately, like a Windsor of the north. Barnard Castle projecting defiantly over the Tees, the home of the Barnards and Baliols. A few miles higher up the Tees valley is the solitary remnant of Cotherston Castle, the home of the Fitzhughs, and Bowes Castle on the east foot of Stain-Moor. The Tees. 75 Other fortresses also stood on the moor, and there the rude cross, set up in the first instance to mark the boundary of the two kingdoms, still remains. Whilst the imposing castle at Brough commanded the western part of the entrance across the Penine Range ; Hartley Castle and Pendragon, grim and solitary, blocked the narrow pass into the Eden valley from the south, and Appleby, Brougham, and Kirkoswald Castles kept watch and ward over the broad vale country between the Penine Range and the Lake Hills. The most easy route from the Eden valley to the vale of the Tees, whither we are bound, would probably be by way of Brough and Stainmoor ; but as our object is to return that way in our tramp back to Lakeland, we shall take the more difficult path by way of Upper Teesdale. So retracing our steps to the bridge of Langwathby, we pass down the east bank of the Eden, and over by way of Culgaith and Milburn Forest to the upper reaches of the Tees, a distance of some ten miles across — a dis- trict wild, desolate, and savage, and over weird and inhospitable wastes, where none but the strong of limb should venture. The surroundings of Culgaith are very charming. Old lanes with grassy waysides and brambles, hedgerows redolent with wild rose and honeysuckle, and sweet meadow paths, the land gently undulating and rising gradually from hence to the highest point of Crossfell, five miles distant. There is a neat church, rebuilt about the middle of last century. A tablet on the north wall records : — " Daniel Dover gave to the Township of Culgaith £60, with an order that the interest arising from it shall be distributed weekly, for ever, amongst such of the poor of the said Township as shall frequent Divine Service." This D. Dover died 1787, aged d>'/, and the bread is still distributed every Sunday. Skirwith, on the Common, is a mile or so to the north-east. Here are the remains of an abbey. Blencarn, a joint township with Kirkland, is also in this district. Just to the south of Blencarn, Middletongue Beck and Mill Rigg Beck join ; the latter stream, rising on Knock Fell, and Dufton Pike is to the south. The beck enters the Eden a mile or so to the north of Temple Sowerby. In stormy weather the water fairly howls down these glens, and when the helm wind comes sweeping with resistless force down the ravines of the Crossfell range of mountains, the battling of con- trary currents, and the tempest of the wind and water is something terrible ; trees are uprooted, houses unroofed, vehicles overturned, and farm produce is often carried to a great distance. We shall not soon forget our experience in one of those helm winds, when we were buffetted about like a thing of straw. Skirting the north side of Milburn Forest, if this waste can be so called, for it is nearly devoid of trees, a high, swampy, peaty moor, with deep intermediate gullies, where a dozen rivulets have their birth, and flow north to the Tees, which rises in the south side of Crossfell, the highest point of the Penine Range, 2,892 feet above sea level. ye Wandermgs on ihe Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. THE TEES. Born amidst stillness and solitude, except the sounds of nature, the wild tempest and foaming cataract, in a region where the foot of traveller seldom penetrates, the Tees rushes forward in mad career as if chafing to escape from its mountain birth. How desolate yet majestic and sublime is the scene at the Snout, and as we stand on the wooden bridge of single plank and look down on the roaring flood of water, howling, leaping, and hissing in endless confusion and whirl, a strange sensation of awe and almost fear takes possession of us. Above the Snout the Tees expands into a small lake known as the Wheel, thence leaping over cliffs 200 feet in height, forms a series of rapids wildly grand and magnificent, and passing over rugged beds of lime- A Pack-horse Track. Jstone rocks, scoured and worn into endless shapes by the storms and floods of centuries, rushes onward a mighty torrent through barren moorland to High Force, and over the jagged rocks with relentless force, it is impelled with a fearsome roar into the boiling, hissing cauldron below. Beautiful, wild, and impressive in character is this portion of the Tees Valley, free as the wind which howls and shrieks around its mountain birth, child of the moorland and heather, in the dark glades, patches of the eternal snow, is to be seen during the hot days of summer. The dark blue pine woods which adorn the north bank for some distance below the Force afford wonderful variety and contrast. Through The Tees. 77 a bower or branch can be obtained an enchanting peep of the Force, with the Penine Range towering in magnificence, and far-reaching range of moors, rising ridge over ridge to Mickle Fell, some 2,600 feet. After rest and refreshment at the Inn adjoining the Falls, we drop down the vale ; the Tees still swirling over remarkable beds of jagged rock, forced on to upright and slanting positions. Wynch Bridge, formed of long rods or links, supports a plank footpath, and the original one is said to have been the first of this description erected in Europe. It spans the river, where it rushes madly through a narrow gorge in the rock ; the water, on our visit, flashed colours of the rarest gems, beautiful hues exceeding description. Passing the village of Bowlees and Newbiggin, Middleton, the capital of Upper Teesdale, is reached. This place and its surroundings offer many attractions and special features of interest, situated on the rising ground north of the Tees, and at the foot of a beautiful glen, down which tumbles Hudeshope Beck, a charming spot for those who love nature. The church is comparatively modern, and has a detached bell tower. Several relics of an earlier structure remain, and part of the original churchyard wall. The interior contains bits of Norman zigzag moulding, an ancient panel inserted in the north wall, and the top of a slab with floriated cross and sword, and other symbols. At the junction of roads, near by, is an ancient sun-dial on pillar. On market and fair days the scene in the street is very animated and picturesque, the place, for the time being, being in possession of the characteristic hill-men. Immediately below Middleton the Tees is joined by the Lune ; the railway viaduct of five arches has a most imposing appearance. On the left bank of the Lune is Laithkirk, and just beyond is a singular mound, the Craigcairn, the supposed burial- place of a British warrior prince. Mickleton, a scattered village of grey stone houses, inhabited chiefly by miners, is ^ . -^:.. on the opposite side of the same. Further down the Tees is Eagle- stone Bridge. Country purely pastoral and park-like in char- acter, distant peeps of purple and grey moors, dotted here and there with white-walled cottages ; cloud, shadow, and sunshine, as if in play, alternately dancing over the scene, and the high sloping banks by the river clothed in deep woods. No part of the Tees is more beautiful and attractive than that at Eaglestone ; charming views, magnificent 78 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. trees, pastoral stretches, woodland dells, miniature brooks, and the broad river shim- mering through the woods, past sandy margins. From the higher ground, Eagle- stone Church and Hall show out to fine advantage amongst the trees. Over the meadows we stray to Romaldskirk, whose ancient tower, grey and venerable, rises so sweetly among the branches. The church is a large and imposing edifice, clothed with moss and lichen. Placed out of sight, behind the organ, is an ^^^Y of one of the Fitzhughs, and as we stood gazing on this martial figure, visions of old border strife, and wild foray, rise to our imagination. Opposite to the church is a large green, and beneath a giant willow, now shorn to some extent of its former proportions, stands the village pump. Few places are more picturesque than this typical English village. Still over pastoral glades to Cotherstone, on the green knoll, which rises above the confluence of the Balder with the Tees, stand the remnants of Cotherstone Castle, in bygone days the home of the gallant Fitzhughs. How charming the site, and how beautiful is the diversified landscape ; the sweet little Balder dancing merrily through a charming dale, musical with the rumbling sound of water mills. Time, the great leveller, and the havoc of war, have scarcely left a vestige of this once strong border peel. There is a story connected with this castle which well illustrates the tragic deeds attendant on border strife. Tradition tells of many sad tragedies and of honourable deeds which redound to the everlasting honour of the family, all of which give interest and significance to the spot. Between the Fitzhughs and the Kerrs, whose castle stood so beautifully above the limpid Jed in Roxburghshire, was a long and deadly feud. The origin of this hatred, which existed between the two houses, began on the battlefields of France during the early part of the fifteenth century. Many Scotch knights of renown fought on the side of the French, and their bones were often left to bleach on foreign soil, and amongst others were the Kerrs of Cessford and Ferniehurst, already mentioned in this work. One of the latter was successful in capturing a Fitzhugh in battle, and either from some slight received by the prisoner from his captor, or from other causes not known, seems to have been the beginning of the long and deadly feud which raged between the two houses ; for after this campaign a great foray was made over the Borders by the Wardens of the English Borders, in which the Fitzhughs took an active part ; but the animosity of the latter seems to have been directed against the house of the Kerrs — the garrison was surprised and put to the sword, and even the lady of the house was slain. The Kerr was from home during this raid, Arms of the Fitzhughs. The Tees. 79 and with him was his son. He had only another child — a girl — said to have been the only human being saved from that sack and ruin, and she was carried away by the enemy. Years passed, and no tidings of the lost child reached the ears of the anxious parent, who, however, seems to have entertained a hope that his daughter still lived. Meanwhile, in the castle of his enemy Mabel Kerr grew beautiful and accomplished. Naturally she was of sweet and gentle disposition, and the most charming and interesting flower in that lovely valley ; yet with all the high spirit and romance suited to the manner of the times. As years glided on she became yet more beloved by all with whom she came in contact ; her kind influence was felt equally alike by rich and poor. Up to this period she had been kept in entire ignorance of her country and parentage, having understood that she was an orphan ; her father, a companion - in - arms of the Fitzhugh, hav- ing she thought, been slain in battle, had entrusted his mother- less child to the care of his friend. The heir of the Fitzhughs had long been passion- ately in love with her, which feeling was ardently returned, and ere long Mabel promised to become his wife. It was at this period that she became acquainted with her true history, and of the sad tragedy which had occurred when she was made captive ; for the young man, like a true knight of old, would not accept her hand whilst the dark secret remained hidden from her. On recounting, as gently as possible, the enmity between the two houses, and the tragic circumstances connected with it, Mabel's grief was inconsolable ; but the Fitzhugh had been like a parent, and more than kind to her, and as soon as the first paroxysm was over, it was arranged that the marriage should at once take place, after which the two young people should journey into Scotland, to the home of her father, and seek forgiveness and reconciliation between the two houses. Alas ! this was never to be realized, for only a few nights previous to the arranged marriage, their old enemy, the Kerrs, Old Mill on the Balder. 8o Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Ribblesdale. breathing vengeance, were stealing down Teesdale to attack the Castle of Cotherstone under cover of darkness, That night was probably one of the happiest of the young man's life, for on that day he had proved the undying love of Mabel, even in the bitterness of her sorrow ; but even as he paced the battlements and dreamt of the happiness in store for him, there came a sudden crashing and crackling and noise as of armed men in the woods beyond, and the tramp of a large force was heard coming in the direction of the castle, many of whom were observed bearing bundles of faggots, which proved to those watching from the battlements that, should the castle withstand the assault, it was to be reduced by fire. The garrison was quickly aroused, armour buckled on, and men placed in different positions to withstand the first onslaught ; huge stones and other missiles were placed ready to hurl on to the heads of the advancing foe, and the castle resounded with bustle and confusion, the clang of armour, the alarm of war. Suddenly the Scots flung themselves with fury on the weakest points of the castle, yelling out, in the still night air, the war cry of the Kerrs. Again and again the castle was assaulted, and each time the besiegers were driven back, being unable to make any impression on the strong doors, which were thickly studded with immense bolts and girded with iron bands. Yet, though repulsed, they were more determined than ever to effect an ingress. Huge faggots of wood were now brought and piled up high against the doors, and pitch and other inflammable combustibles were thrown on the fuel and fired. Soon the flames arose, lighting up the grim darkness of the night. Unfortunately, the wind carried the smoke and fire right into the faces of the defenders, and almost rendered their efforts powerless. Soon the flames weakened the entrance, and a large tree, to use as a battering ram, was brought to bear on it and an entrance forced. Fitzhugh, at the head of his retainers, had now gathered in the courtyard, ready to repel this onslaught of the enemy, and, as the gate fell, rushed into the breach, and for some time kept them at bay. In the melee he was struck down, mortally wounded, the defenders lost heart, the foe rushed in, and then was enacted all the horrors and butchery attendant on the deadly enmity of feud and Border war. Tradition says that young Fitzhugh was cut down by the hand of the chieftain, Kerr, and Mabel, who, with the women attendants, had been placed on horseback ready for instant flight, had the sortie been successful, in a paroxysm of love and agony threw herself on the body of the young knight to shield him from further danger, and in this position also received a mortal wound ; and the shrieks and yells of the dying chieftain, trying in vain to make known to the Kerr his relationship to Mabel, were taken by the victors as only appeals for mercy. Thus vengeance was amply satisfied — few escaped the fire and slaughter of that night. The dawn of the morning light found the young heir of Cotherstone still breathing. The Tees. 8i and gathering together his energies in one last expiring effort, he feebly enquired for the Scottish leader ; and as his bitter antagonist, the father of his Mabel, stood over him in that last hour, he told him, in plaintive words, the story of his lost child, now lying before them in the coldness of death, and of his, the dying man's, love for her, and the arrangements which had been made for their marriage and the reconciliation between the two houses, all of which had been frustrated by the last night's attack. Who can picture the agony of that father's mind when Fitzhugh pointed to the body of his daughter, struck down and slain in the beauty and prime of womanhood by the Barnard Castle. From an Engraving by i- M. W. turner, r.a. hands of his own men ? And with hand clasped in that of the dying man's, whose life was gradually ebbing away, he learnt from his lips how beloved, and almost adored, his daughter had been, not only by the chieftain of the castle and the retainers, but by all the peasantry of the surrounding district. The returning light of that day told the climax of that deadly feud and revenge ; and with heavy heart the stricken chieftain returned over the hills to the valley of the beautiful Jed. Victory had been theirs, yet returned they not as victors, but downcast, melancholy, and sad, bearing along with G 82 Wande7^mgs on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Ribblesdale. them the bodies of Mabel and her lover, and with gentle hands they were laid to rest side by side in the family vault of the bereaved one. How beautiful is this story treasured, telling of feud, foray and noble deed ; and the spirit of Mabel still loves to linger in that beautiful vale, where she wandered in the flesh, and where her life was given to shield the one she so dearly loved. On the opposite side of the Tees is a stupendous rock, called Percymyre Castle. It was over this rock that one of the Lords of Cotherstone fell and lost his life, when returning in the dusk from a grand hunt which had taken place in the chase of Mar- wood. It appears he disregarded the warning of one of his aged retainers, who, on account of a strange dream which foreshadowed some calamity, tried to dissuade her lord from joining the chase. Two faithful hounds, who'd followed well Their master all the way, Now bounded on, in hot pursuit. As though 'twere break of day. But night had fallen, and near by Yawn'd a chasm dark and dread — 'Twas to the top of Percy myre, The deer so swiftly sped. But now the dogs stopped suddenly, A flash, as though of fire, Revealed unto the luckless youth The brink of Percymyre. And far below, in that dark dell, Crept the river on its way. Like some huge serpent coiling round Its quivering, ghastly prey. ******* He check'd his steed, but 'twas too late — The tired beast reel'd and fell, RoU'd on its rider, and both together Were plunged in that awful dell. And then, amid the dark, dim night. Arose a fearful scream, And horse and rider mangled lay : FulfiU'd was Elspeth's dream." Cotherstone is a large, picturesque village, renowned for its cheeses. There is an interesting old inn, and a notice, giving friendly advice to travellers, hangs upon its walls. Now onward, past Lartington and its ancient hall and beautiful Deep-dale, with its twining slender rills, pretty cascades, and waterfalls, we approach the town of Barnard Castle, its old ruins impending so stately over the steep bank of the river, " Where Tees full many a fathom low. Wears with its rage, no common foe For pebbly banks ; nor sandbed here. Nor clay mound checks his fierce career. Condemned to mine a chanelled way O'er solid sheets of marble grey." CHAPTER VII. cXFX BARNARD CASTLE. K^ ^ FITZ-BARNARD, or Bernard, is the first of this name we read of. He was probably an ancestor of Barnard Baliol, who built the castle early in the I2th century. The latter was father to John Baliol, who naarried Devoragilla, daughter of Allan Earl of Galloway, and grandfather to John, who inherited, in the right of his mother, the crown of Scotland, and who was crowned King in 1292, and did homage to Edward for his crown. From the Baliols it passed for a time into the vast possessions of Anthony Bek, Bishop of Durham, but was afterwards seized and granted to Guy Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, and for five descents the Beauchamps and their successors, the Nevilles, kept possession of Barnard Castle, from whence it came into the hands of Richard HI., by his marriage with Anne, daughter of the great Earl of Warwick, the king-maker. Anne was the first of our Queens who bore the title of Princess of Wales. By some she is supposed to have been carried off by poison. Miss Strickland says she died of a decline, the result of a broken heart. " No memorial marks the spot where the hapless Anne of Warwick found rest from as much sorrow as could have been crowded into the brief space of thirty-one years." Previous to obtaining the throne, Richard resided for some time at Barnard Castle, and was appointed Guardian of the Northern Marches. During the rising of the North, the castle was garrisoned and defended by Sir George Bowes, the insurgents being in possession of Raby, a few miles east. G2 84 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. " Then Sir George Bowes he straightway rose That baron he to his castle fled — After them ; some spayle to make, To Barnard Castle then fled hee — The noble erles turned back againe, The uttermost walls were eathe to win, And aye they vowed that knight to take, The erles have wonne them presentlie." After a siege of eleven days, Sir George surrendered for want of provisions, on honourable terms. James I. bestowed the castle and manor on his favourite, Robert Carr, Earl of Somerset, on whose disgrace it again reverted to the crown, and after- wards came into the possession of the Vanes, in whose family it still remains. The ruins are approached through the King's Head yard, and are still of vast mag- nitude, covering an area of nearly seven acres. Here in one of the rooms, in the fifties, a hermit took up his residence. He was one of those persons who seemed to have quarrelled with the world ; and here he remained for some time, afterwards re- moving to Egglestone Abbey. " I heard," says Walter White, " that he had been crossed in love, and that notwithstanding his lonely solitude, he would go out at times and find a friend, and make a night of it." The views from the windows of the castle are magnificent indeed, the river flowing deep down below, over a bed of limestone and marble ; and the walks by the river are most beautiful, the ruins impending over the precipice, and the water swirling onwards, awaken- ing reveries dulcet and charming. Gallowaygate, the road leading to the station, and another spot close by, known in ancient records as " Hang- slave," and the name bespeaks its own story. In the street running south from the market-place, known as Throughgate, are one or two very ancient houses ; one with three stories of square bays is the most picturesque. Formerly it was an inn, and it was in this house that Oliver Cromwell slept in October, 1648. In this street was situate an Augustine Convent. The King's Head is the principal hotel, and here, formerly, Charles Dickens took up his abode when travelling in these parts, collecting notes for his " Nicholas Nickleby." We can sit in the same bow window, and look on nearly the same scenes as the famous writer did. Across the street Barnard Castle. 85 was Humphrey the clock-maker's sign, and his name stood out so conspicuously that at length he was impressed with the original idea of " Master Humphrey's Clock." " Mr. Newman Noggs " writes, in his P.S. to the young gentlemen of Dotheboys Hall : " If you should be near Barnard Castle, there is good ale at the King's Head. Say you know me, and I am sure they will not charge you for it. You may say Mr. Noggs there, for I was a gentleman then ; 1 was, indeed!' The Parish Church, dedicated to St. Mary, was built by Barnard Baliol early in the 1 2th century, but has been restored and altered until little of the ancient structure remains, except the Norman font and one doorway. In the churchyard, on our visit, were several very old mural slabs, which are certainly worthy of better attention from the clergy and churchwardens. Proceeding east from Bar- nard Castle, we leave the banks of the Tees and follow the road to Staindrop, passing Streatleam Castle, the seat of the Bowes family. The castle stands in rather a low situation, but is beautifully wooded, and was formerly surrounded by a deep moat. A pretty little stream flows through the park, and thence winds through meadow and arable land. Like Tenny- son's brook, it curves and twists under willow and hedgerow, and is a sweet contrast to the scenes we have left in Upper Teesdale. Now we are approaching Staindrop, a village with many picturesque features, possessing a large green. The lower end is enclosed by large trees, through the branches of which the smoke slowly ascended on this summer's eve. How charmingly the sunlight glints on the old tiled roofs, and how cheery are the shouts of children at play. A striking feature is the grey old weather-beaten tower of the ancient church, where the renowned Nevilles sleep; what startling scenes and incidents in the historic life of this family appear before the mind of the onlooker — scenes pregnant with disaster and ruin, the rise and fall of the rival Roses ; the great drama which for years deluged England with the blood of her best and bravest sons, when that great and ambitious house of Neville, with the giant form of the king-maker towering high above all other, were in their ascendancy. Tomb of Ralph Neville and his two Wives. edmund bogg. 86 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. To the left, on entering the church, is the beautiful alabaster tomb of Ralph Neville and his two wives. The figure of the knight is girded in plated armour, with a lion at his feet. The effigy of his wives rest one on either side — Margaret, daughter of the Earl of Stafford, and Joan, his second wife, daughter of John of Gaunt. Two little dogs, symbols of fidelity, peep from the robes of the ladies, and at the feet are monks kneeling. Other tombs, with crocketed canopies, formerly contained figures, and at the north-west part of the church is the wooden tomb of Henry, the fifth Earl of Westmoreland, and three of his wives, two of whom are represented by ^'i^gy. Around the tomb, in niches, are the figures of his children, and beneath is an inscrip- tion : ''ail gou tfjat come to tfje c|)urc]^ to pragE sag pater noster antJ a txztsz for to ^a&e mmg of us anb all our projmg." In the centre of the chancel and out of keeping, we should say, with the sacred character of the place, is a large, imposing monument, hewn out of white marble, representing the Duke of Cleveland, who died in 1842. There are other monumental busts and figures, and the foundation of the church is said to date from the reign of King Canute, who presented the manor of Staindrop to St. Cuthbert. The building probably dates from the transition period. Just beyond the church, to the north, is the magnificent mediaeval castle of Raby, justly des- cribed as the finest fortress in all the north country. As we stand ruminating before this immense pile, still retaining all its ancient features, appearing like a scroll of history before us, its walls emblazoned with the armorial badges of the Nevilles, and the one who, in their glory, stood the greatest and the last of the old Norman chivalry, more kingly in pride, in state, in possession and renown, than the King himself— Richard Neville, Earl of Salisbury and Warwick.* And those who have looked on the immense castles of Middleham, Brancepeth, and Raby ; in the days of the king-maker a vast camp bristling with armed men, the * " This princely personage, in the full vigour of his age, possessed all the attributes that endear the noble to the commoner. His valour in the field was accompanied with a generosity rare in the captains of the time. He valued himself in sharing the perils and the hardships of his meanest soldiers. His haughtiness to the great was not incompatible with frank affability to the lowly. His wealth was enormous, but it was equalled by his magni- ficence, and rendered popular by his lavish hospitality. No less than thirty thousand persons are said to have feasted daily at the open tables, with which he allured to his countless castles the strong hands and grateful hearts of a martial and unsettled population More haughty than ambitious, he was feared because he avenged all affronts, and yet not envied, because he seemed above all favour." Raby Castle. 87 first a huge pile of ruins, and the others still standing so stately and magnificently will easily understand what the power of the Nevilles has been in the old days. The very sound of the name of Raby conveys memories of remarkable men and women, and memorable deeds, and the glory of that house and of all the illustrious alliances formed by the Nevilles. The name of that battle — Neville's Cross — sheds a further lustre, and is a memorial to their name. Ever since the days of Richard Coeur de Lion, when Aymer de Neville performed such wondrous feats of arms on the battlefields of Palestine, had there been brave and doughty knights in the Neville family. It was Robert Neville, the peacock of the north, who slew the Bishop's Seneschal in open day on Elvet Bridge at Durham. The final downfall of the Raby Castle. family was caused by the active share they took in the ill-fated rising of the North, fatal to the fortunes of many a noble house. Their banner, on which was displayed the five wounds of Christ, was carried by old Richard Norton, Esquire, an honourable gentleman of ancient lineage. Now was the North in arms : they shine In warlike trim from Tweed to Tyne, At Percy's voice : and Neville sees His followers gathering in from Tees, From Wear, and all the little rills Concealed among the forked hills, — Seven hundred knights, retainers all Of Neville, at their master's call, Had sate together in Raby Hall ! Such strength that earldom held of yore ; Nor wanted at this time rich store Of well-appointed chivalry." B8 Wandermgs on the Old Border^ Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. " Thee, Norton, wi' thine eight good sonnes, Wi' them full many a gallant wight, They doomed to dye, alas for ruth, They cruellye bereav'd of life ; Thy reverend lockes thee could not save, And many a child made fatherlesse, Nor them their faire and blooming youth. And widowed many a tender wife." Through Langley dale, near the castle, flows a delightful stream. A beautiful ballad, written by Surtees, called "Langley Dale," is said to allude to the rising of the North : — LANGLEY DALE. " As I down Raby Park did pass. The wild rose blushes in the brae, I heard a fair maid weep and wail ; The primrose shows its blossom pale ; The chiefest of her song it was, But I must bid adieu for aye. Farewell the sweets of Langley Dale. To all the joys of Langley Dale. The bonny mavis cheers his love. The days of mirth and peace are fled, The throstlecock sings in the glen ; Youth's golden locks to silver turn ; But I must never hope to rove Each northern flow'ret droops its head Within sweet Langley Dale again. By Marwood Chase and Langley Burn. False Southrons crop each lovely flower. And throw their blossoms in the gale ; Our foes have spoilt the sweetest bower— Alas ! for bonny Langley Dale. Reverting to the river again, and on to Winston-on-Tees, a most charming spot overlooking the winding river, with its steep wooded cliffs. The church, dedicated to Saint Andrew, dates from the Norman period, but has undergone restoration. Westholme Hall, a fine old manor-house, dates from 1606, and is alluded to by Sir Walter Scott in his " Rokeby " : — " The cottage, once his sire's, he sees Embowered upon the bank of Tees ; He views sweet Winston's woodland scenes, And shares the dance on Gainford Green." Here a bridge of single arch crosses the Tees, with a span of 1 1 1 ft, and was built by the Robinsons in 1764. It was one of the few structures that withstood the fury of the great flood in 1771. Two miles further down the river we reach Gainford. Few villages possess more interest to the antiquarian than this. Perhaps the most interesting vestiges of antiquity is a rampart of earth and dyke running south from the centre of Yorkshire into Scotland, marking an ancient border. A defensive line separating two hostile people ; the invaders who came east from over the sea having driven before them the original inhabitants into the hilly country west — thus along this old-world border a long and bitter warfare for final supremacy has been waged. The church, which has been judiciously restored, dates from the Norman period, and replaced a Saxon structure built by Egfred, Bishop of Lindisfarne. Many remains of early Norman work, in the shape of slabs, sculptured crosses, with swords and Gainford mid Barford, 89 other symbols, are to be seen in the old porch, and by the beautiful elm trees is the stone slab or base in which the ancient cross was formerly embedded. At the west side of the village, and nearly opposite to the church, is an old manor- house, and near to it is a columbary, or pigeon-cote ; and on the opposite side of the river, near the ruins of Saint Lawrence's Chapel, is another dove-cote, or columbary, both having the appearance of a disused windmill minus the sails. The entrance is through a low doorway, and around the interior walls is fitted up with small niches where the pigeons nested in mediaeval times. A columbary was a necessary appendage to every castle or manor-house. The Romans had similar places built, with niches to receive the urns containing the ashes of the dead. The village has a delightful rural aspect, and is built around a large green adjoin- ing the river, from whose banks the village, with its rustic property by the Tees, inter- mingled in branch, and the more pretentious dwellings in the background, form a charming village picture. Crossing to the Yorkshire side of the Tees, we note the delightful windings of the stream, and then turn our faces westward on the return journey to the vale of the Eden and the Lake country. On the high banks above the river stands, solitary and neglected, the ruined chapel of St. Lawrence. High above the valley near to is the site of the old Richmond, a strong Roman station built to guard the ford over the river at that place. Out of the ruins of the Roman station the Anglo-Normans built the town of Bereford — Robert-de-Bereford won renown under the banner of Richard I., in Palestine. Another of the Berefords gave twenty-five acres of land at this place for the maintenance of a priest to sing in the chapel here on Sundays, Wednesdays, and Fridays in each week, for the health of the knight's soul, and also those of his ancestors. A few scattered farms are the only rem- nants of the village of Barford. As we wander around the chapel ruins and grass-grown mounds, and note the Celtic dike and memorials of ancient Rome, and the skeleton of an old world around, and the complete silence and almost desolation which now reigns, we are struck by the exquisite beauty and romantic appearance of the landscape — Gainford village nestling below, with hoary church and manor-house, the columbary on either side of the river, relics of feudal days ; sweet lowland glades and charming ravines, where the spring flowers bloom, and near is the river, which here flows in such delightful windings, and a little further on are the old farm-houses, relics of Tudor and Stuart days. Away to the north the eye ranges to the higher ridges stretching away into the county of Durham. Two miles west is the village of Ovington, the Ulfston of the Doomsday survey, then in possession of one Ulf, ancestor of the Ulmington family. The village has a charming appearance, and there is a pretty green and a May-pole some sixty feet high. Further west the moors of North Yorkshire come into vision, and yonder is the moorland village of Barningham, where formerly the sexton 90 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. was paid a yearly sum for whipping cats out of the churchyard. Down the old lane to the right is Wycliffe, the cliff by the water, the birth-place and early home of John Wycliffe, situate by the Tees in a retired spot some distance from the public high- way, and is to-day almost as rural as it was in the days of the great Apostle of the Reformation. It was eventide on our visit, and the sun had for some length of time disappeared below the western hills, yet the spiritual mystery of the gloaming added a further charm to the richly wooded slopes and green meadows where the farms nestle, and the church, embosomed in ivy, the ancient mill and the picturesque rectory. There is an air of perfect sympathy about this spot, only at flood times the thunder and wail of the river sounds like the agony of souls in torment rent, but when at peace Wycliffe Church the waters sweetly murmur a lullaby as if to soothe to rest the numberless dead laid beside the brink. Though nearly dark, the beauty of the spot appealed like some sweet poem to our imagination. The aged rector kindly led us the way to the church by the aid of a lantern. No words, however eloquent, can give a more impressive object lesson on the mutability of all things on earth, than we received whilst meditating in this quaint and venerable edifice with its flat roof, mouldering sun-dial, and other crumbling memorials in the rude yet venerable interior. There is a rare old font which was lately rescued from the sacrilegious use as a water trough, and in the chancel are brasses to the memory of the Wycliffes, and sculptured fragments of ancient mural slabs, apparently belonging to an earlier church, inserted in the outside Wycliffe. 9t walls. Within the rectory hangs a portrait of John Wycliffe, copied by Sir Antonio Moore from an original one of the Reformer. It was presented as a heirloom by Dr. Thomas Zouch, rector of Wycliffe towards the close of the last century. Wycliffe is indeed a beautiful spot, resting by river, meadow, and wood, the old mill race and the overhanging willows, the music of the water and the hum and clack of the mill wheel. There is a sacred and venerable aspect about the village, all breathing of perfect peace and repose, and from being the birth-place and early home of Wycliffe, the place is doubly interesting, and although there are rival claims to that honour, we do not hesitate to claim Wycliffe as his birth-place ; nor can we understand why anyone should seek to claim her noblest son, for here he received his education, and knelt in prayer at the altar amongst the generation of men who now lie peacefully sleeping by the sweetly-sounding Tees. Where do the ashes of the great Reformer rest? Not here, in the silent churchyard, but scattered broadcast over the great ocean. He died in the rectory-house at Lutterworth, in December, 1384, Forty years after his death a decree was issued that the coffin and body of Wycliffe should be disinterred and burnt. Crowds assembled to see the work. The grave was opened, the coffin raised and carried down to the bridge ; there a fire was kindled by the crowd, and the mouldering fragments of humanity consigned on to it, and Wycliffe's ashes became charred in the fire, after which the remains were thrown into the river Swift. " The Swift conveyed them into the Avon, the Avon into the Severn, the Severn into the narrow seas, and so on to the main ocean, and thus the ashes of Wycliffe are the emblem of his doctrine, which now is "dis- persed all the world over." The walk to Rokeby, either by the bridle way or by road, is very charming. Noble trees of vast growth not only afford shelter to the tired traveller, but also lend attraction to the beauty of the surrounding country. To fully appreciate the ideal and historic charm of this district we must linger over the pages of legendary lore and records of the past. Sir Walter Scott, with the pen of a magician, has bewitched our fancy and rendered this spot classic for all time with story and romance, depicted in flowing prose and verse, traditions, incident, and character — imaginative pictures yet appealing to our minds more startling than reality. Now we have reached the winsome Greta, which comes wandering so sweetly from Stain Moor to greet us — hence the Greta. Over the ^f^nib of Ij^e. Tjoljeeys 92 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Ribblesdale. bridge we pass and take up our quarters for the night at the Morrit Arms, an old coaching-house, renowned far and wide for its generous hospitality. From the bed- room window we could look into the woods of Rokeby, where a colony of rooks were nesting, and the sound of their croaking intermingled in our dream, and in the early morning we were aroused by all the inhabitants of the rookery giving out their hoarse cries of gladsome pleasure. In the garden of the inn is an ancient font, of square form, set on a moulded base, and is in a fair state of preservation.. It may have been brought from the old church, which was demolished about a century ago, and stood near to where the Greta meets the Tees. In the meadows immediately behind the inn is a well-defined Roman camp. Brignall Banks is further up the Greta. " O Brignal Banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands three, Would grace a summer queen." Near to is the cave where Guy Denziel and his band of rob- bers had their rendezvous. " Of old the cavern, straight and rude, In slaty rock the cavern hew'd ; And Brignal's woods and Scargill's wave E'en now o'er many a sister cave, Where far within the darksome rift The wedge and lever ply their thrift. The war had silenced rural trade^ And the deserted mine was made The banquet hall and fortress too Mortham's Tomb, Greta Woods. e. bogq. Of Denzil and his desperate crew." At the east foot of the Greta bridge is a large and yellow-walled building, a famous posting-house in coaching days, and known as " The George." Let us follow the course of the Greta, now wandering through the woods of Rokeby, singing, in romantic strains, the fascinating legends of by-gone days. Scott, writing in 1809, says : " It is one of the most delightful places I have ever seen, as it unites the richness and luxuriance of English vegetation with the romantic variety of glen, torrent, and copse which dignifies our northern scenery." Thus wandering through the woods, which rise high above the sparkling stream, winding, like a silver thread, through scenes of wildering beauty, we arrive at Mortham's tomb, formed of immense blocks of Tees marble, richly emblazoned with crests and armorial bearings, and rendered more venerable by its coating of green and silver moss. The tomb stands in the woodland glade, under a natural arch, composed by the branches of two ancient elms. This was Rokeby. 93 our first visit, but we regret to state that on our next, some two years later, one of the elms had succumbed to the fury of a tremendous storm. " South of the gate, an arrow flight, For their huge boughs in arches bent Two mighty elms their limbs unite, Above a massive monument, As if a canopy to spread Carved o'er in ancient Gothic wise O'er the lone dwelling of the dead ; With many a 'scutcheon and device." This is supposed to be the tomb of Sir Ralph Bowes, and was brought hither from Eggleston Abbey. A hundred paces from the tomb is Mortham's Tower, an old Border peel. The site is most advantageous, being situate on the brow of a small hill. Connected with this old tower is a legend, grim and hoary. Once on a time a certain Lord of Rokeby, in a fit of jealousy, murdered his wife in the glen below, and the blood-stains, yet to be seen on the tower stairs, and which, story says, cannot be effaced, were the blood droppings from his dagger as he mounted the stair, after committing the fearful deed ; and for years after the spirit of the murdered woman haunted the tower and vale of the Greta adjoining. At length the spectral visitor appeared so often that the services of the parson were called into request, and he, with book in hand, read the spirit down, and confined her under the bridge. During the great flood of 1771 the structure was swept away, and with it the spirit, so at least it is thought, for it has not been seen or heard since that time. " The 'lated peasant shunned the dell. For superstition wont to tell Of many a ghostly sound and sight, Scaring its path at dead of night " On the banks of the stream, nearly opposite to the Tower, is " Bertram's Cave," which Scott often visited when at Rokeby. Now we are at Dairy Bridge, which crosses the Greta at the foot of the woods near its junction with the Tees. How lovely is the scene at the meeting of the waters, with the environments of hill and meadow, clothed with noble trees. To stand and view the sight in the glory of a summer sunset is alone worth the journey ; or at other times to listen to the wild music of the leaping and gurgling waters, battling and charging against the huge rocks, in that mad rush for freedom. The monster boulders are hewn into fantastic shape by the washing of centuries and piled in grotesque confusion during the raging of mighty floods. Beyond the bridge branches interweave and form a beautiful canopy, contrasting finely with the grey bridge. Moss, fern, trailing plant, and wild flowers festoon the bank, and the varied shades of the water, from the dark brown pools to the more creamy current, is enough to gladden the heart of a stoic. An army of poets and artists, at whose head are Scott and Turner, have rendered this spot classic. Scott says : — 94 Wariderings 07i the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribhlesdale. Here trees to every crevice clung, And o'er the dell their branches hung, And there all splintered and uneven, And shiver'd rocks ascend to heaven." And through the softening vale below, Roll'd her bright waves, in rosy glow, All blushing, to her bridal bed. Like some shy maiden cottage-bred, While linnet, lark, and blackbird gay. Sing forth her nuptial roundelay. " " The cliffs that rear their haughty head High o'er the river's darksome bed. Were now all naked, wild and grey. Now waving all with greenwood spray ; And again he says : — *' 'Twas a fair scene. The sunbeam lay On battled tower and portal grey, And from the grassy slope he sees The Greta flow to n»eet the Tees ; Where, issuing from her darksome bed, Shecaught the morning's eastern red. Just by the meeting of the Greta and Tees are the remaining vestiges of an ancient church, demoHshed a little over one hundred years ago. A few mouldering tombstones still show out above the green sward, to point out the sacrilegious act, the defilement of holy ground, where for centuries the chil- dren of the hamlet had been baptized, and generations of men had knelt in prayer and been laid to rest under the green turf in this peaceful and secluded spot, where the music of waters lulled them to rest, in the hope of a glorious resur- rection. The base of an ancient cross and the old font still remain, sole vestiges of all that was. We cannot leave Rokeby without mentioning that curi- ous satirical ballad known as " The Felon Sow of Rokeby," written, it is supposed, by a Craven man, to illustrate the greed and rapacity of the Dairy Bridge and Mortham's Tower. monks of Richmond. It appears that Ralph de Rokeby, who lived in the time of Henry VII., had in his woods a very fierce and untameable sow, whose lair was by the Greta's side. The ballad says : — Rokeby. 95 " Her walk was end-long Greta side, Ther was no bren that durst her bide, That was froe heaven or hell. Nor never man that had that might That ever durst come in her sight, Her force it was so fell." This diabolical and grisly brute was given by Sir Ralph de Rokeby, in a spirit of mischief, to the Friars of Richmond, on condition they should themselves come and remove her, and so for this purpose Friar Middleton set out one day, accompanied by two brethren, one of which, the ballad says, was Peter Dale. At the end of their twelve miles' journey from Richmond to Rokeby, they found the wicked sow ' ' Liggan under a tree, Rugg and rusty was her haire, She raise up with a felon fare. To fight against the three. " After a terrible struggle she was forced into a kiln hole, where they at last succeeded in placing a halter round her neck, at which she raved and roared so furiously that the monks became frightened. " The sow was in the kiln hole down, She gave such brades at the band As they were on the balke aboon, That Peter Dale had in his hand. For hurting of their feet ; He might not hold his feet ; They were so saulted with this sow She chafed them to and fro, That among them was a stalworth stew The wight men was never soe woe, The kiln began to reeke. Their measure was not so meete." Then Peter Dale, with crosse and crede, took the Book of the Gospels and endeavoured to read the furious beast down, but the sow would have none of it, and only charged the monks more fiercely, and dragged the rope from their hands. " The sow she would not Latin heare, He say'd : 'Alas that I was frear ! But rudely rushed at the frear, And I shall be rugged in sunder here, That blinked all his blee ; Hard is my destinie ; And when she would have taken her hold, Wist my brethren in this houre The fryer leaped as Jesus wold. That I was set in such a stoure, And bealed him with a tree. They would pray for me.' " In the end the monks were completely vanquished, and fled away up Watling Street, for the ballad says they had no succour but their own feet. Curious enough, the sow seems to have been quite tame and gentle in the presence of Margery, the mistress of Rokeby, for we are told that after the affray the sow came unto her, " Scho gave her meete upon the flower, Scho made a bed beneath a bower, With moss and broom besprent, The sewe was gentle as mote be, Ne rage, ne ire, flashed fra her e'e, Scho seemed wele content." When the discomfited monks arrived home and told the story how, in the terrible fio-ht, they had fought a fiend in the likeness of a sow, Friar Theobald, the warden, was more determined than ever to capture her, so he engaged two of the boldest 96 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. men that ever was born ; one was Gilbert, Griffith's son, and the other was a bastard son of Spain, and many a Saracen had he slain. On meeting the sow a terrible fight occurred, in which the Spaniard nearly lost his life " Then Gilbert grieved was sea sare, *' And lift her on a horse sea hee, That he rave off both hide and haire, Into two paniers well made of a tre, The flesh cam' fro' the bone ; And to Richmond they did hay ; And with all force he felled her there, When they saw her come, An waun her worthily in werre, They sang merrily Te Deum, And band her him alone, " The fryers on that day. " And so they brought her to Richmond, and there was a general rejoicing in the city, and thanksgiving to God and St. Francis for that noble victory. Proceeding, we hasten by the river side to Eggleston Abbey. Beautiful and bewitching are the peeps and vistas of the sunlit stream, flowing beneath overhanging woods and over its bed of marble, for the river has carved out a course through beds of blue marble. What duration of time has elapsed since it began that process of polishing the huge rock smooth, we know not, for time, in this instance, cannot be counted by centuries. Thousands of years before the abbey and castle were even thought of, whose grey ruins adorn its high bank yonder, had the river channelled a course through rugged rocks, swirling and leaping in its mad career onward, even as it does to-day. Time mirage change the face of its waters, but it, by the force of indomitable will, has sculptured a deep pathway in the adamantine rock, scooping and churning, in all fantastic shapes, in its herculean grasp, the marble foundations. From the abbey bridge, with its magnificent span, can be obtained a scene of enchanting beauty, long reaches of wood and stream, the river, singing so sweetly, linking the music of the past with the beauty of the present ; the relics of a summer vegetation with the first flush of nature awakening to another glory. Yonder on the steep bank are the crumbling walls of a ruined abbey, and away in the background rise the roofs, spires, pinnacles and battlements, historic towers, relics of mediaeval ages ; beneath us the woods wave in all their beauty ; united with the varied and refreshing green of spring, and the river, coursing onward at its own sweet will, mirrors the imagery of nature — the sky and clouds in its bosom, spring in her freshest charm is seen all around, river, dale, woodland, and meadow, and the song of birds, all combine to touch the inmost chords of our being into the spirit of harmony and praise for the beauties of nature — the works of the good and bountiful Creator. Now we have reached Egglestone Abbey, which stands on a high green knoll on the Yorkshire side of the Tees, a mile or so east of Barnard Castle. It was built in the early years of the thirteenth century, and marks the pointed Gothic period. The abbey is now a total wreck, parts of the nave and chancel, which are roofless, being all that remain. Adjoining, in a sad state of dilapidation, are the later monastic buildings. Here it was that the hermit from Barnard Castle took up his abode after Rorglestone Abbey. 97 removing from the latter place. Within the precincts of the ruins are several rare mural slabs, of Tees marble ; one bears the inscription, in large characters, THOMAS ROKEBY, Bastarde. )Xi If"' ^°'' P^''^°"'' '^^% , , , , ' r A 1 Have mercy on my smiul heart I and others, on which are finely carved the cross and swords, from which the brasses have been removed. Unlike most abbeys, Egglestone does not rest in the bosom of the vale, but stands, most commanding, on the highest eminence, and looks down into the valleys Thorsgill and the Tees. Fairy Thorsgill has a sweet fascination for me. Beautiful and dreamlike did the little vale appear in the waning sunset. It lies at The Old Bridge, Fairy Thorsgill. right angle to the Tees, whilst the venerable ruins are seen to fine advantage above. As we stand by the quaint little bridge which spans the stream, winding its way so stealthily amongst the pebbles, twining here and there, like a gleam of light, the softly sloping hill sides rising gently towards the skies, whilst the beautiful brook, as it passes, swaying the grass and wild flowers that grow on its margin, whispers a refrain of old-world days, soothing our minds into a delicious reverie, and we seem to catch an echo from the past ! — in procession before us passes Thor, the Viking, and his grim followers ; the more cultured Norman, in clanking mail and pomp of heraldry ; list to the noise and clang attendant on building the abbey ! the chanting of the 98 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale , choristers. Fancy depicts the picture of the abbey's dedication ; bishops and priors, with their attendants, came from distant places ; barons and their retainers mingle with the holy brethren in that first worship at Egglestone. The service choral. The pathetic strains of the opening " Kyrie Eleison," when all heads bow, after which all would rise in body, heart, and soul, with music of the " Gloria in Excelsis," that filled the groined roof and streamed through the new-born aisles, still more thrilling and blood-inflaming, when the deep and sonorous roll of the bass, from the mighty lungs of monk and friar, proclaimed the " Credo." Then in humble prayer, as the " Agnus Dei " was chanted, still lower would they bow, and smite their breasts, saying " Mea Culpa" ; after the solemn stillness. The Benediction. The interval between the sacrificial rite of the Mass and the chanting of the Vespers they feasted on venison, and from the flagons and goblets would drink the choicest wines. Now we see the passing forth of powerful bishops and barons, with their attendant knights and squires, attired in all the glory and pride of chivalry. Pageantry, in all its barbaric splendour of ages gone, spread before us, with banners waving, the richly emblazoned shields of the Nevilles, the Percys, the The Greta. EDMUND BOGG. Fitz-Hughs, the Bowes, and the Rokebys, &c., their armour flashing brilliantly in the sunlight. Thus the stream babbles its story and lulls us into reveries of the past, when resting by the quaint old bridge in the glowing sunset. This was a favourite sketching ground of Thomas Creswick, R.A., and later of Keely, Halliswell, and other eminent artists. The Monk's Mill, a fine relic of the past, still rests by the Tees, and the old wheel still casts up the dripping water and adds its pleasant rumbling to the music of the surrounding. From the brow of the next hill the eye follows the graceful curvings of the Tees, whose banks are finely fringed with trees, and the town of Barnard Castle, shimmering in the sunlit mist, and the Bowes Museum in the foreground, standing so stately and noble, like some princely palace of old. Then we turn across to, and enter into a branch of the great north road, the Watling, or Waitling, street of the Roman, over Bowes. 99 which the legions have marched with stately tramp, led by emperors from the imperial city, nigh two thousand years ago, and over which, in pre-railway days, several coaches rattled to and fro daily, in their journey between London, Carlisle, Edinburgh and Glasgow. Now the road winds over a high tableland of dreary moor, gradually rising higher and higher and growing more savage and desolate beyond the village of Bowes. To the south yonder we catch sweet glimpses o{ the Greta river, and ahead of us the ruins of that ancient stronghold, whose life, written and unwritten, stretches from the dawn of civilization, and now looms dark and dreary over the village, typical and significant of that great struggle which for centuries waged along this old border line. We have now reached the foot of this moorland village. On the right, at the entrance, is a plantation, where the rooks are busy nesting, and deep warm tints of sunlight swathe the trees in golden hue. Bowes consists of one long straggling street of grey stone houses, crooked, cracked, twisted, and cold, with door frames and windows awry and shivered, and a grass-grown cobbled causeway on either side. On the right is the church, now almost despoiled of its Norman architecture, but still shewing many interesting features. Near to is the ruin of the strong Norman castle before alluded to, and a meadow length further is Dotheboys Hall, the house made famous for all time by Charles Dickens, in his " Nicholas Nickleby," and the last in the village, if we except one or two half-ruined shanties just to the left ; and further is the long dreary range of Stainmoor, over which the winds of winter shriek and howl, and phantom sprites wail a mournful dirge, enough to make the heart of mortal tremble and shiver with fear. Nearly at the entrance to Bowes, on the east, stands the Unicorn Inn, one of the largest hostelries between York and Carlisle, called into requisition during coaching days. It was in the yard of this inn that the miserable youths for Dotheboys Hall were set down, although to disguise the exact position of the school Dickens describes it as the inn at Greta bridge. "The Unicorn" is a large curious old building, in shape a quadrangle, with its capacious inn yard open to the street. The entrance to the house is under a portico from the yard. It is a most wonderful old inn, with its maze of rooms, winding passages, dark lobbies and cellars, low beams, and ancient oak panelling, thick walls, recessed windows, half hidden cupboards, and deep window seats, and antique holes and corners, here and there, the former use of which is now forgotten. On the west side of the house is a large kitchen, now the chief room of the family, with mullion windows, formed of diamond squares of glass, looking into an ancient garden, with its neglected boxwood borders, shrivelled into patches. Adjoining the yard is the large tap-room, fitted up with long-settle run- ning into the huge and deeply-recessed fire-place, the latter showing many interesting nooks, only to be found in such houses. It is a perfect treat to find oneself H2 100 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. benighted, say on a Saturday, at " The Unicorn," and to sit for an hour or two in this old room, and listen to the gossip of the natives and so become acquainted with the items of interest, manners and customs of the people, which appears like reading a page written at least sixty years ago. Behind this room, and arranged so as not to disturb the rest of the house, is a smaller one, fitted up with a bedstead of seventeenth century appearance. There some trusted servant, in old coaching days, always stayed overnight, ready should a customer require to be served with necessary refreshments, benighted travellers, stablemen, or hangers-on, &c., at such establish- ments. In the centre of the small window looking into the inn yard, was a hinged pane of glass, just large enough to admit the passing of refreshments to those outside ; and Scene in Coaching Days — (''The Unicorn,'' Bowes\ the writer was informed by an elderly person, whose parents kept this inn sixty or seventy years ago, that usually a thriving trade was done through this little lattice window after the inmates of the house had retired to slumber. Some of the furniture of this room certainly dates back over two centuries. Martha Railton, the heroine of the " Bowes' tragedy of true love," performed the duty of attendant in this room, at least oral tradition records this story. Widow Railton was the mistress of this inn, in those days known as "The George." It was Martha who died of a broken heart on hearing the passing bell toll, announcing the death of her lover, and a stone at the west end of the church records her never-dying love. "The Unicorn " is now far too large for the present traffic on this road and the declining trade of Bowes. Bowes. I o 1 The little snug at the front of the house was the room occupied by Dickens during his stay here. The large dining-room, immediately facing the street, like most of the others, now wears a melancholy air of desertion, and ghosts of a bygone generation seem to flit before the visitor. There is that musty smell and flavour of age peculiar to old buildings and unoccupied places. Even my dreams during those nights I slept at "The Unicorn," were shaped with forms of a bygone people, such as would be witnessed in the coaching days. Sudden gusts of wind moaned dismally round the gables, angles, and passages, and whistled ominously within the numerous crevices of the ancient roof The old signboard creaked and moaned dismally as it was swayed to and fro by the wind ; such sounds produced dreams and phantoms of the past ; scenes from " Nicholas Nickleby," " Dotheboys Hall," or anon the merry jokes and cracking of whips, the rattling of coaches, the shrill flourish of the driver's horn, the unloading of baggage, and the alighting of passengers attired in old-world costumes, the hurry and scurry to and fro of postboys and guards in livery. Such are the associations and memories of this wonderful old road-side house, with its savour of past generations clinging around it. The long range of stables, offices, and outhouses, &c., built on two sides of the quadrangle yard prove the importance by which it was held as a hostelry of vast accommodation to the ancient roadster. In the centre of the yard is a large pump that has witnessed very many phases of human experiences. Pembroke College is indissolubly associated in my memory with Bowes, the reason of this is as follows : A grammar school was founded at Bowes by one William Hutchinson in 1699, when a certain sum of money was left in trust for a scholarship at Pembroke College, for the poor youths of the village. Unfortunately, this fund has been allowed to remain in abeyance for a number of years, the reason for which is not far to seek, the money not being sufficient for the full maintenance of the student, and the poor people of the successful boys not being able to add to the fund out of their scanty earnings, were unable to help their children to avail themselves of the advantages the money was originally intended for ; and the Master of Pembroke College having had possession without any use being made of it for such a number of years, wished to retain at least half of it for other purposes than the original trust, and on the Saturday evening during our last visit a parish meeting had been called, to investigate this action of the Pembroke College authorities. The curate (formerly a poor Bowes lad), who had reaped the advantages of the trust and knew the benefit of a college career, occupied the chair. All the village — perhaps I should say town, for there are still to be seen the remains of the market-cross — were assembled together at that important meeting, and as I sat, completely deserted, in the large room of the inn, for my companions had become interested and had gone with the rest to the meeting, there was not the faintest sound of a voice in 102 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Ribhlesdale. the house or a footstep in the street, until it seemed verily like a place of the dead. At length I grew weary of the silence and solitude reigning around the rambling old inn, and so wended my way up the dark street, lit with one or two flickering oil lamps making the darkness more dense, to the meeting of the parishioners. The debate was carried on in fine argumentative style, worthy of the object and a great city. At the dispersion there was quite an inrush of thirsty orators to " The Unicorn," where the discussion was still carried on, and a son of Vulcan waxed quite eloquent on the injustice of certain people ; and the night had waned into the small hours of the morning ere the landlord, who was an enthusiast on the subject, and my companions on the tramp had fully discussed the pros and cons of the ancient trust, with the Pembroke College scheme. Thus being in unison with their local topic, they expressed themselves freely, and we became acquainted and interested in the manners and customs of this his- toric and characteristic old town. Higher up and on the south side of the village is Bowes Church, still retaining several features of late Norman work, and contains two piscinas, also two fonts, one of the Tudor period and another strangely suggestive of Saxon work. The south transept has mural slabs, a sarcophagus, and '-~f\^'^y!^^y relics of Roman and Saxon occupation. Before the restora- tion of the church all the high- backed family pews bore the names and addresses of the owners, as for instance : John Bousfield (a well-known local name), Christopher Craddock, Archdeacon Headland, Thomas Walker Lowfield, James Langstaff, John Bourne, James Sawyer, all names suggesting memories of families dwelling in those parts less than a century ago. There was formerly a clock-tower to the church, now only a small turret, containing two bells. The south doorway is very interesting, over which is a carved stone, thirteenth century work, illustrating the Crucifixion. Immediately under the west end is a headstone, to the memory of the lovers, Edwin and Emma, erected by South Doorway. B owe^. 103 Dr. Dinsdale, in 1848. The traditional story of these two young people is very pathetic, and we give the story as told in ballad. Our readers will remember that Emma's mother (Widow Railton) was landlady of " The Unicorn." The inscrip- tion on the headstone reads : — Roger Wrightson, junr. . and Martha Railton, both of Bowes, Buried in one grave. He died in a fever, and, upon tolling his passing-bell, she cry'd out — •' My heart is broke," and in a few hours expir'd purely thro' Love, March 15, 1714-15. Such is the brief and touching record contained in the parish register of bu/ials. It has been handed down by unvarying tradition that the grave was at the west end of the church, directly beneath the bells * A few paces westward from the church are the remains of a strong Norman fortress, around which has been waged many a sturdy fight. It was built by Alan of Brittany, made Earl of Richmond by the Conqueror. The walls of the ruin are of immense thickness, and stand on a commanding eminence nigh a thousand feet above sea level. Just to the south of the fortress is the site of the Roman station of Lavatrae, with the remains of an aqueduct and baths, still to be traced. The Romans were in possession for over three hundred years. Between the Roman time, say the middle of the fifth century, to the coming of the Normans, nigh six hundred years, the history of this place is a blank, although we know this moorland country was held for centuries sturdily by the old Britons, but who firmly, and step by step, were deposed of their lands and driven to the mountains and defiles of the west. Below the Roman station is a picturesque mill and a deep ravine, through which the Greta merrily wanders and sings. '^itxi^ Crest. *'• Bowes Tragedy ; or, a Pattern of True Love. — Roger Wrightson, at the sign of ihe King's Head, in Bowes, in the N. R. of Yorkshire, courted widow Railton's daughter, at the sign of the George, in the same town, and has done more than a year. On Shrove Tuesday, 1715, he fell sick, and languished till Sunday next but one following, and after saying three times, 'Martha, Martha, come away,' then died. Poor Martha Railton, though privately, took heavily on all that time, and only had declared to her sister and mother 104 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Rihblesdali. Now we are at Dotheboys Hall again — the place is much the same as described by Dickens. A descendant of Squeers' still dwells there. It is a cold, grey, stark- looking house, its front windows looking on to the ruined castle and the yard, outbuildings, school and dormitories at the back, and the old pump is still there. Dotheboys Hall. F. dean. At the doors of this yard Mr. Squeers met Nicholas Nickleby. The wind was howling over the moor. " Come in ! " says he. " The wind blows in the door fit to that if he died she could not live. An honest friend is unworthily blamed for doing what I would have done myself had I known it ; for Martha Railton begged of him to go and see young Roger, and tell him she would gladly come and see him, if he thought fit (knowing all his father's family was against her). Roger answered, ' Nay, nay, T — my, our folks will be mad ; but tell her I hope I shall recover.' Well, the poor lass, almost dead in sorrow, first sent an orange, but Roger's mother sent it back ; yet about three days before his death Martha went. His mother was so civil as to leave her by his bedside, and ordered her daughter Hannah to come away, but she would not. Poor Martha wanted only to speak three words to him, and (although she stayed two hours), yet Hannah would not let her have an opportunity, and so, in a sorrowful manner, she left him. Her book was her constant work Friday, Saturday, and Sunday ; and she would oft say to herself, ' Oh ! you Hannah ! if he dyes my heart will burst.' So on the same Sunday se'night, at five o'clock in the after- noon, the bell was tolled for him, and upon the first toll,. Martha lay by her book, got her mother in her arms, with, *0h! dear mother, he's dead, I cannot live.' About three minutes after 'J'homas Petty went in and desired her to be more easy. Her answer was, ' Nay, now my heart is burst ! ' And so, in mournful cries and prayers, was fainter and fainter, for about three hours, and seemed to breathe her last ; but her mother and another girl of the town shrieked aloud, and so called her back again, and stayed her spirit ten or twelve hours longer, and then she died. At last things was brought to this issue, to be buried both in one grave, and the corpse met at the church gate, but Hannah objected against their being buried together, as also she did at her being laid first in the grave ; but was answered that a bride has to go first to bed. She, being asked why she should be so proud and inhumane, answered, that she said, ' Martha might have taken fairer on, or have been hanged.' But oh, the loud mourning of friends on both sides at the corpse meeting, and more at the grave ; wherein first she was decently laid and then he," Stainmoor. 105 knock a man off his legs." " A true remark ; but the breezes of Stainmoor are invigor- ating."* It is only fifteen miles across the moor to Kirkby Stephen or Brough. Let the tired city-men, by way of change, take our advice, and he will find how much refreshed he is for the stroll and the inhaling of the moorland breeze. As we stepped out for our long tramp over Stainmoor the wind was blowing a hurricane, and an old native remarked to us that the outlook was " raither raffy." Stainmoor is a vast expanse of stunted grass and heather, dreary enough when the storm-clouds of winter sweep dark and scowling, and the winds screech and moan like evil spirits ; but when the heather is in bloom, and the sky above is blue and light, fleecy clouds trail their shadows across the sunlight and the larks sing sweetly in the heavens, and the becks, tinged with their moorland birth, weep in sinuous course onwards. The scene is extremely beautiful. The great military road of the Roman and the Northmen of a later period ran, as it does to-day, over Stainmoor. Near the centre of this high tableland is the division of the counties of Westmoreland and York, and up to the twelfth century was the dividing line between England and Scotland, and in old days was the resort of savage and lawless men, and, even down to the eighteenth century, the rendezvous of highwaymen and robbers. God's Bridge, a natural rock which spans the Greta, is a few hundred yards to the south of the road. On the eastern entrance to the moor there are several houses standing by the roadside, and others are fast falling to ruin, whilst here and there a heap of debris marks the site of former dwellings. Very ruinous are the buildings which mark the site of the old toll-bar. At Spittal-on-the-Moor there was formerly an inn, a place where the stage-coach changed horses, and passengers alighted for refreshments, and the scene early in the present century of a strange attempt at robbery ; besides conveyance of merchandise was chiefly by the means of pack-horses, strings of 50 or even more crossed and re-crossed Stainmoor from Lancaster and Kendal, en route for Darlington, &c., and made this a halting place. This hostel, of coaching and pack-horse days, was no doubt built on the site of an ancient house of entertainment, for even in the Norman period there would be a need of a house of this kind, and in monkish times would be presided over by some holy man, probably a Knight Templar, who, apart from attending to the wants of the inner man, could give spiritual advice and perform other religious duties. * We are under the impression that Dicken«, in his description of Dotheboys Hall, must have been consider- ably misinformed as to the manner in which that now notorious place was then conducted, for we have it on the authority of an old pupil there, Mr. Lloyd, that the place was well conducted and the house kept extremely clean. The food was excellent, and the boys had as much as they could eat. There was no such thing as a Smike to be seen there, and there was less punishment than in any other school. We are informed also that Mr. Shaw was a very kind master, and wonderfully attentive to any pupil who was ill. There were schools in the district which would better resemble Dickens' description than the one presided over by Mr. Shaw. io6 Wanderings on ike Old Border^ Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. Situated on the highest range of this table-land is the Roi, or Rere Cross, as it is commonly called. It was here, after centuries of bitter warfare, that the kings of England and Scotland met to decide the boundary of the two kingdoms, and so raised this, the " Cross of Kings," on either side of which were engraven the images of the two monarchs ; and here it still stands amidst the wild waste of encircling hills and the howling storms and hurricanes of eight hundred years, which have long since erased the images of the founders ; a relic of the old world, though shorn of its former size, it still marks an historic deed, and as we stand meditating before it we almost catch an echo of the old border warfare. We are now on the back-bone of the great Pennine range ; from hence the scenes viewed are of the most varied and magnificent description. Away to the west spreads the beautiful vale of the Eden, with the mountains of Lakeland rising boldly forth in the background ; to the south-west we look across the nine standards, high seat, Mallerstang, and beyond looms, savage and dark, Wild Boar's Fell, and to the east are the moors of North York, stretching far away between the vales of the Tees and the Swale. The natives still fearfully tell you of strange sights and strange sounds, as of men in tumult, and eerie forms of ghost and warlock, or peradventure a headless horsewoman gallops swiftly across the moor, concerning the latter is the following tradi- tion : Once on a time, long centuries ago, when the wolf, wild boar and red deer roamed over this moor, and at about the period the Norman adven- turer began to build those immense strongholds in the Eden and Tees val- leys, a Saxon chieftain dwelt in a rude fortress on the edge of Stainmoor •^^lu. Stainmoor — Rere or Roi Cross TA'-V ^^'"- ^Vj|ill^«lty^«ooh_«. acknowledging no king as his master, and between him and Fitz-Barnard, the Norman — whose stronghold was by the rushing Tees, near to where the immense castle, whose ruins we now can see, was reared in after years — was a bitter hatred and deadly feud ; perhaps from the natural antipathy the two races had to each other, or it may have been over the right of chase over the wide moor, which both claimed as their own. Be this as it may, the two parties had more than once come ^tainmooV. \bf to blows whilst hunting, and in one encounter several retainers and the daughter of Fitz-Barnard, a beautiful young lady of some twenty summers, were taken prisoners. The object of the chieftain was to make her his wife, and she was treated with all the courtesy and kindness possible in that rude age. All his attempts to win her love were, however, fruitless, and after remaining a prisoner for some time, she was rescued by stratagem, and was being borne triumphantly across the moor, when the Saxon appeared on the scene with a number of retainers and charged madly into the group of rescuers, who were unable to withstand the onslaught, and the chieftain, furious at the thought of losing his fair captive, with one savage stroke severed the head of the young lady from her body ; hence the reason of the headless horsewoman often seen galloping over the dreary moor at midnight. We now pass the source of the Greta, and a little further on the edge of the moor, guarding the pass on the west, is another Roman camp, for these conquerors of the old world held the key of Stainmoor east and west, the two camps being about twelve miles apart ; for this was an ancient trackway of the British centuries before the legions of Rome appeared on the scene, in fact it was the main connecting link between the east and west from pre-historic time, and, as such, has been sternly guarded alike by Briton, Roman, Saxon and Norman, for the duration of two thousand years. Near to the camp above mentioned the road bifurcates, one leading to Brough, the other to Kirkby-Stephen. We follow the latter as far as the " Slip Inn," into which we slip and partake of a good square meal, rest awhile, and listen to the gossip of the landlord about the wild scenery of Upper Swaledale, and then bend away to the right, pass the haunted mansion, which, when tenantless, and as late in the century as the matter-of-fact days of 1896, became suddenly illuminated in the night, as if by electricity, and the interior shone with unwonted brilliancy, the country people flocking from near and far to view the strange phenomena. Soft and subdued sounds from the vale below commingle with the music of the church bells from the towers of Brough, Kirkby Stephen, Musgrave and Warcop. CHAPTER VIII, BROUGH AND KIRKBY STEPHEN DISTRICT. E now have reached Brough, the hoary ruins of the castle, a relic of old, holding sentinel and guard over the town resting under the western edge of Stain- moor. The position, the effect of the tout ensemble seen as you enter Brough from the Kirkby Stephen road, is both extensive and remarkable. In the fore- ground are paddocks, hedgerows, old walls, sweet old lanes, and a few cottages on the right, help the composition of the picture. Beyond is a belt of trees through which filters the evening light and where the rooks have established a thriving colony, and the place resounds with their uncouth melody. Through the branches is seen the battlemented walls of the church, with its substantial Norman-Gothic tower, and further still, crowning the next eminence, is the ancient castle keep, rearing its ragged outline against the sky, as if proud of its heritage, the third fortress which has crowned this position, and marking three epochs of our history, and the primitive town of grey and whitewashed houses slumbers peacefully in the vale, and around rises into the clouds the amphitheatre of hills and mountains, ever changing in hue as the sun- light plays upon them, and feathery mist circles in phantom-like form, lending mystery and effect to the scene, all forming a picture of great natural beauty. Brough is the site of the Roman station of " Veterae," and its position can still be traced in the castle grounds. The church is a large building, and has been recently restored. The floor of the church is not level, but slopes upwards, following the Brough. 109 course of a bed of limestone. During the Restoration a most interesting slab was discovered, which proved to be in Greek characters, to the memory of one Hermes (Mercury), of Commagene, a Syrian youth, who appears to have lost his life during an expedition against the Kymry, the original inhabitants of Cumberland. The south door is a fine example of decorative Norman work, and the old roof, covered with moss, has a most antique appearance, and seems almost as if robed in a velvet mantle. The stone pedestal of the sun-dial is richly tinted with moss and lichen, as if to produce perfect harmony with the grave knolls around, both small and great, silent monitors on which the daffodils were blooming on our visit. Brough is noted for its great autumn fair, a mart for the sale of horses and mountain ponies and cattle, to which vast crowds of dealers and others interested A Mountain Stream. annually resort Bull and badger-baiting was a most popular pastime at Brough up to the present century, and the stone into which was affixed the ring to which the bulls were fastened still remains. The Westmoreland men, like the Cumberland men, are famous wrestlers. The landlord of the inn (Steadman's) at which we took up our quarters, has quite a large collection of trophies won in the skilful art of wrestling. His son has also won renown in the ring. Both the food, attendance, and sleeping accommodation at this inn were all that could be desired. A droll and singular character we fell in with at Brough — Tommy Wilkinson, a sweep by " profession," a tall, lanky old man, who had seen over seventy summers, and his appearance, attired in a battered hat, frock coat, with the sweep's brush and I 10 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. barrow, but the comical expression of features, is not to be easily forgotten. His remarks were smart and witty, and he was well versed in local information. Nature had evidently meant him for a gentleman, and he possessed a keen insight into character. For some contravention of the local bye-laws he had been summoned before the magistrates just previous to our visit, and, in his defence, said : " Gentlemen, I stand before you aged three score years and twelve, and ev lived in Brough all me life, and not yan o' ye that can say Black's me neame ! " To the question we put to him regarding the weather, he replied : " Duck eggs 'ell be ever sea mich longer in the mornin's. Indeed, why ! For gobbing up sneakes (worms)." Now proceeding past Brough, Sowerby, and over the Belah vale, where gentle little purling brooks rippled over pebbly beds, transparent in the sunlight, the rich green of hedgerow and meadow, the twitter- ing of birds, and the perfume of spring all round. The labourers toiling in the fields, one of which is employed with hopper strapped in front, scattering the seed broad- cast, brings to memory the parable of "The husbandman who went forth to sow," fol- lowed by others, with teams of horses harrowing the seed in the earth, formed a series of sweet rural pictures in our walk to Winton, where we observe its curious manor- house, date 1726. There are several old houses at this place, with mullioned windows and inscribed slabs over the door lintels. The village of Winton is much more suitable for the residence of the Vicar of Stainmoor, owing chiefly to its position, number of inhabitants, and contiguity to Kirkby Stephen, and possesses features of great interest to the archaeologist. As we passed out of the village we heard the dull sound of the thrasher's primitive flail beating the corn out on the barn floor, calling back memories of another village, and our child- hood days. The mind may have been more easily susceptible to impressions on that beautiful spring morning as we passed through the little village and vale of Hartley, a perfect type of a happy valley, peaceful, rural, secluded ; all unknown to the great busy world it slumbers, just hidden from the vale of the Eden by the land rising slightly higher J J '■ k ^S s .. fl^^l . W^^ Bww ilv ^^^^^1 ,-■ jA K^!^D£'i MrtIi mI '^^^^^^HB .^^Ba ^^^ ^ Nm H ^^^^H ■ " ■^ t^H HK'*'^" r* 1 {' MM fl H 1^; ^ ' ' m § ^^I^H i^^^i ^^H| l||Mffic - i w '^.^^^_^. . ..-^jI ^^H HP R^'; ■». IK m WSiK ' m f 1 L^l ^1 ^^^ V mm ■ 1 H 1 1 ■ ' y^^^' ^«j?#^^-^'*'''''^i^^^^Bl HI B|H ^H j^^^^^^^^hh^^^^k|^ ^^^iSs99l ^^^^^1 ^^^1 ^^^RH ' > ^^^Hii^^^^-^'^i |H^H HH Bi^^ ';^Kf,iSmKm^' '" " " ^^M P^^^T ^^^B Mffl^^M g /^^^p mtuts'-i^iz \ Hf-^y ' Street View, Kirkby Stephen. Kirkby Stephen. 1 1 1 than the roofs, and on the east by ravine and mountain, stretching far-away south, the village ends under the eminence where once the imposing castle of the Hartleys (known in ancient days as the castle of the Harcla's, i.e.^ hard clay) stood, and Mallerstang and Wild Boar Fell uprear majestically in the background. The sweet little stream wends its course in easy and graceful curves under quaint and rustic bridges down the centre of the street, if street it can be named. On either side the footpath rises and falls in easy undulations by the side of the stream, and the walls and roofs twist in sinuous manner in all that picturesque and fanciful irregularity of outline, and a soft delicious sweetness of colour and secluded rural charm, which are requisite to form an ideal village. On the prominent hill overlooking the vale of Hartley and Kirkby Stephen, in the vale of the Eden, formerly stood the castle of the Musgraves, and later the De Harclas. A few shrivelled stones still remain to testify of this old stronghold of Sir Andrew de Harcla, warden of the western marches, and whose death, in the reign of Edward H., by the hands of the executioner, he being hung, drawn, and quartered by the order of the king, form a tragic ending to a brilliant career, which marks a dark page in the history of our country. There are many strange legends still recounted of this ancient family, and the people of Westmoreland still believe that Sir Andrew was innocent of the charge for which he suffered death. From Hartley, a few hundred paces, brings us to Kirkby Stephen, a small market town near the head of the Eden valley, still containing many antique and interesting features. It is composed of one long street with a few side alleys or lanes, with a market place and square in the centre, and here, on market days, the scene is of the most primitive and rural description. Old-time carriers' carts, carrying two or three passengers, probably farmers' wives and daughters, with baskets laden with butter and eggs, the product of the farm for the week, and farmers, with their wives and daughters, in their rickety and unwashed traps, rumbling through the town, or, perchance, a sporting character, mounted on a highly-mettled and raw- boned steed. The confused medley and grouping of various types and characters, and the noise of chaffing and bargaining, adds a picture to the ancient town. The church, with its noble Gothic tower, is an imposing structure, and has of late years been most judiciously restored. The south entrance to the churchyard is beneath a classic porch. A tablet in the wall gives the names of the churchwardens in 1763, and another list of names in 1721. There is a fine peal of eight bells, rung from the ground under the tower. The west end of the nave contains the shaft of a runic cross, with a figure carved on. The interior consists of tower, nave, aisles, and chancel, with side chapels. The ancient custom of ringing the curfew bell was still in existence on our visit. The church contains several mural tablets, but the monu- ments and effigies to the memories of the Musgrave and Wharton families are indeed of 112 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. Effigies of Lord Wharton and his two Wives. great interest. Under a canopy in the wall of the south chapel is an ancient altar tomb, bearing the Musgrave shield, and another in the centre of the chapel holds an effigy, representing a mem- ber of the house of the Musgraves, attired in mail- armour. At his feet is a lion couchant. In the north chapel, resting on a beauti- ful alabaster sarcophagus, are the effigies of Thomas Lord Wharton and his two wives. It was long sup- posed that the said Lord Wharton and his two wives were interred here, but as we have previously mentioned in our work on " Wharfe- dale,'' an exact counter- part of this monument, on which repose the effigies of Lord Wharton and his two wives, rests under the immense chancel arch of Helaugh church, in the Ainsty of York. Part of the elaborate inscription reads : " My family gave me my name, but my victorious right arm gave me my honour." In the year 1783 the arch of the vault at Helaugh, having become ruinous, fell in and exposed to view three skeletons, which were supposed to be those of Thomas Lord of Wharton and his two wives, one skeleton being raised above the other on a kind of platform ; so it appears quite evident that he and his wives rest at Helaugh and not at Kirkby Stephen. The south chapel also contains fragments of runic work : Norman capitals and vestiges of an earlier church ; and the chancel a perfect sedelia and piscina. The residence of the poet Close, the Westmoreland bard, was in the upper part of the town, and a large sign-board still points to the exact spot. For sixty years he wrote verses and prose, and annually, for a number of years, issued a Christmas book, which had a large circulation. He was granted an annuity from the Queen's civil list, which was afterwards suspended ; but a gratuity of a hundred pounds was substituted. Near the station are the rocks of Stenkrith, where the Eden winds through the deep gorge of freestone rock, into which the waters have worn deep fissures and singular crevices and caldrons, and a walk of some miles up the valley of Mallerstang, Brough and Kirkby Stephen District. 113 with the Eden winding at our feet and High Seat on the east, and Wild Boar Fell towering into the clouds on the south-west. Here the last wild boar, tradition says, was slain by a chieftain of the Musgrave family. Up among the hills to the right is the old home of the Whartons, Pendragon Castle is one of the smaller Norman keeps, evidently standing amidst the earthworks and vestiges of an earlier structure of defence, which is supposed to have been one of the fortified residences of Uther Pendragon, father of King Arthur, and legend says that deep below the foundations a great treasure has remained hidden ever since the days of Merlin the Arthurian bard. It was Uther who led the Cymric, and fought so bravely against the Saxons both in the West and North Country. His death was caused by drinking water from a poisoned well, and young Arthur, the peerless knight, succeeded to the royal dignity. It was evening, and a wild one, on our visit to the old keep. On two previous occasions we had been dis- appointed in not reaching Mallerstang ; this time we were determined, and so passed down the valley during a hurricane of wind and rain, when the howling of the tempest sounded like evil spirits battling in the mountains. It was nearly dark on our arrival, and as we sheltered among the ruins and mused on the mouldering relics, bleached and battered by a thousand winters, bringing to memory stories of the old border days, the wind howled and shrieked through the crevices of the ruins, ghosts seemed to ride on the skirts of the storm ; voices weird and dismal, echoes of other days. Such a change from what we passed through, where beauty vied with beauty, grandeur with grandeur ; now wood and stone, and wind and water, are moulded into wild and thrilling forms ; we hear the shriek of the weird sisters, and dimly descry Macbeth, blown forth to know his destiny. Hush ! 'tis the spirits of men slain in battle, whilst defending this narrow pass, that sounds dis- mally, and of men who once languished in the dreary dungeon beneath our feet : I A Bit of Old Kirkby. EDMUND BOGG. 114 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Ribblesdale. it is only the wind moaning down the glen. Yet hark to the bugle call and clash of arms! Pull up the drawbridge and down with portcullis ! the Picts and Scots and wild men of Galloway are burning and plundering down the valley. Now we see the battle raging, and the curtain rises and falls on scenes of siege, victory, death, and glory, and thus the wind wails and shrieks out its story, and the rain beats piteously on the old walls, but peace has come to the land ; no need now for castle, foss, or moat, only those shrivelled bones are left, linking our minds to a mystic past, to tell us of strange battle, adventure, high-born knights, and ladies fair. Crossby Garrett is three miles from Kirkby Stephen, and stands in the valley, at the foot of Crossby Fell. The church occupies a steep eminence, just to the north of the village. On this hill the early missionary raised the cross, symbol of Christianity, and the village rose in the valley, hence Crossby, the village by the cross. The church is a very interesting structure, and is a conspicuous around. Legend says that the building was commenced in the valley, and the material for its construction was accordingly brought hither, but in the night-time it was removed by some unseen agency and placed on the summit of the hill, where the edifice was at length reared. Starting again from Brough we follow the Roman road to Appleby. Hillbeck Hall, with its background of woods and mountain, is on the right, and further is the village of Warcop, beautifully secluded, the land around rich and fertile. The name is said to be derived from a village picture. f. bogg. an ancient castle which formerly stood near the village, the walls of which were of great strength. The church is a most interesting structure, and, from appear- ances, has evidently been surrounded by a moat. Here we are reminded of the old story of Dr. Fell's dog. " As clever as Dr. Fell's dog " is still a saying amongst the people. The story is as follows : — Some villagers meeting Dr. Fell in his walk, they mutually commended each other's dog, when the Doctor asked one of them what his dog could do, the villager replied, " Oh, he could do ought ; he would fetch and carry, and lurry any beast or sheep off the moor, and would drive them through any gap he liked. Will your dog do all that, Dr. Fell ? " " Eh ! " said the Doctor, " that's nought ; my dog will do all that ; and I will tell you what else he will do, and that is, after he's ta'en the beasts home he'll go back and stop up the §ap ! " Hence the proverb : " As clever as the Vicar of Warcop's dog." Brough and Kirkby Stephen District. 1 15 Still onward !^ As we pass through the beautiful vale country we are reminded of that magnificent sunset which we witnessed between Warcop and Appleby, the won- derful fascinating and mystical effect of which impressed us greatly. The sun had just drooped below a bank of dark blue truculent clouds of ragged outline, and a delicious yet solemn hush and purple haze of night spreads over the earth. Stretching away from our feet is a flat expanse of wavy green cornland ; on one side of the picture was a clump of dark firs, partly screening the sombre roofs of a farmhouse. Solitary and lonely it appeared in the deepening hues of night. Across the middle distance ran a long straggling row of serried trees, every twig and branch etched out distinctly against the evening light. Further to the right, as if to give contrast, is a dense mass of dark woods, now quiet and restful — a deep peace holds this stilly hour, an inner sense of repose and delight steals in upon the heart, while the air is filled with the perfume from a thousand flowers. Away westward the peaks and ragged outline of the lake hills are pencilled in sharp outline, and fringed with a delectable glimmer ; and still beyond is a scene of such celestial splendour, surpassing in ethereal loveliness the dream of some fabled shore. Domes, pinnacles, and purple ridges are resplendent with burnished gold, and in the foreground is one huge cumulus cloud, shaped like a lion couched majestic, as if guarding the entrance to some classic sea ; and away over the tops of mountains, and stretching far away into the realms of space, bathed with all the soft luminous hues of gold, crimson, purple, vermilion, and pale cadmium, vessels of stately form and wondrous sail were floating amongst amber isles on a storied sea, and the far-away horizon line tinged with the glory of heaven and the calm of eternity. Such a scene — the outward robe of the thoughts of the divine — never to be transferred on canvas by the hand of man. ;^i.|.;.l.;.|.H.:4^|.;.|.:|:.|.:.^.:.|■:■|.i■|.:.^■l■;^■ifi^.i+;+i^■i■^i+^ ■|.^|.:4:4i4:-^ = -^:.|-;4^l-:-l-^l-^|.:-|.;-|.;|: + ^|.^l-vH-hrl-vHTrFi-HH-;H>H-» CHAPTER IX. .AF^ APPLEBY. ;<^^ OW we have reached the old town of Appleby, standing so stately and restful in the bosom of the vale, the most ancient part, lying to the west of the river, composed chiefly of two streets, running east and west and north and south. The appearance of the town from the high land east of the river is pleasing, and the stretches oC water are most charming. Just across the river rises the battlemented walls and tower of Saint Lawrence's Church, and the vicarage, embowered in trees. From the church to the castle gates is a wide thoroughfare, called Boroughgate, still retaining its middle-row, with interesting bits of ancient architecture. Here is the Moot Hall, where the burgesses assembled, a relic of the Mote Hill of ancient times. There are two crosses or pillars. Near to the one at the bottom of the street is the Bull Ring, where the bulls were baited, and a ring let into a. stone still testifies to that rude sport. Higher up the street is a quadrangular square of almshouses. This is the Hospital of St. Anne, founded by the Countess of Pembroke (for thirteen widows), and in the walls are to be seen shields and armorial bearings of the families into which the Cliffords have intermarried. Appleby is the capital of Westmoreland (Westmuirland), or the land of the western meres, and the smallest county town in England, and is a place of great Appleby. 117 antiquity. Numerous relics of a pre-historic race of people, which inhabited this district long anterior to the Roman period, are to be seen scattered within a few miles of Appleby. The great Roman road, over which we had been travelling, from Rokeby, Bowes, Stainmoor, and Brough, and then north-west to Carlisle, ran within half-a-mile of Appleby, but the nearest station, Redlands, was fully three miles away. After the withdrawal of the Romans, Appleby became a place of strategic importance to the ancient British, and later to the Anglo-Dane. Castle Hill (naturally a strong position), is half circled, and rises in precipitous position above the river. On the west side of the castle is a narrow vale down which filters a small stream called " Doomgate Syke," which empties into the river just to the north of the town. In pre-Norman times this was a swampy piece of ground, always more or less covered with water ; thus, the water cutting off connection from Castle Hill on every side but the south, on which side the fort is protected by immense earthworks and double moats of great depth, the inner one being forty feet deep and eighty feet from crest to crest ; in fact the defensive lines of earthworks excite wonder, and almost amazement, in the mind of the spectator, and shows the long struggle which has been waged before the old British have been ousted by the in- vading Angle or Dane. A long list of Danish village names bearing the terminal "by," go far to prove that Caesar's Tower, Appleby Castle. after the sack of Carlisle in the ninth century the wave of Danish conquest swept down the fruitful Eden valley, and at that period probably ousting and capturing the entrenched position of the old British, for we know the latter were in possession of the lake country two centuries later. After this raid and conquest came the gradual settling of an alien race. Thus we have a dozen or more villages whose origin can be traced to this influx of the Scandinavian, as, for instance, Scotby, Lazonby, Gilmonby, Somerby, Crossby, Melmerby, Kirkby, Sowerby, Langwathby, Appleby, Wailby, Watelyby, &c. In the reign of Edward the Confessor it must have been of some importance, both as regards population and strength, for on the division of Northumberland ( North- Humber-land) it gave its name to a shire, " Appelbi-Schir," 1 1 8 Wa)iderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. and to this period, say after the ninth or tenth centuries, must be ascribed the building of the two churches, St. Michael's and St. Lawrence's. Twice, at the least, was the castle and town destroyed by the Scots, first in 1 173 and again in 1388, by a furious raid, made by the Douglases, after which, for the space of one hundred and fifty years, it lay in ruins; indeed, the place never rose again to its former size and prosperity. Nine parts of it still remain in ruins, and instead of twenty marks a year it only paid two marks. The foundations of buildings and even streets have been laid bare, thus proving the devastation and havoc wrought by these inroads of the Scots. Annie Clifford, the celebrated Countess of Pembroke, fortified and garrisoned the castle in the cause of King Charles, i64i,and gave the command of it to Philip Musgrave. However, in 1648 it capitulated to Cromwell's forces, when the whole wreck of the royal army, which had just previously blockaded Cockermouth, gave themselves up prisoners of war, all but the undaunted Countess, who seems to have been left alone, and she was right loyal, " hip and thigh," and would not yield until the old castle of her ancestors became shattered and rent by the guns of the enemy. When the proscription of Charles II. was issued by Cromwell, not a man in the little capital would raise his voice to proclaim it, " so the soldiers had recourse to a fellow in the market, an unclean bird, hatched at Kirkby Stephen (the nest of all traitors), who proclaimed it aloud, while the people stopped their ears and hearts and had nothing open but their eyes, which were filled with tears ; and when the Protector, to punish them for their obstinacy, issued a restrictive charter, they stuck to their old one, and could not be induced to yield it up." At the Restoration the mayor would not handle the staff of authority nor suffer the oath to be administered to him until he had taken Cromwell's charter and, in the presence of all the court, cut it in pieces with his own hand (a daring deed, but he was too wise a man to do it in Oliver's lifetime). Then looking about he espied some tailors, and, casting it to them, with the remark " that it should never be a measure to them." " Bravo, little Mayor of Appleby ! " says one writer, *' he knew that grim Oliver and many of his stern old Ironsides were then in their graves, and so the little dog played with the once-dreaded paws of the dead lion." The Restoration, we are told, was celebrated at Appleby with as many bonfires as there were houses in the town. " After service was done at the church the Countess of Pembroke, with the aldermen and gentry of the county, with the sound of trumpets and an imperial crown carried before them, ascended the stately scaffolds at each end of the town, hung with cloth and arras of gold, when they proclaimed, prayed for, and drank the health of the king on their knees. The aged countess seemed young again to grace the solemnity. What an imposing spectacle this scene would form for a nineteenth century person to gaze upon ! Yet in spite of all this loyalty to the House of Stuart, James II. Appleby. 119 demanded all the old charters of Appleby to be delivered up. This is in keeping with the unstableness of his whole conduct, and was a most exacting and arbitrary proceeding. The charters have never since been heard of The countess was a woman of remarkably strong and indomitable will power, and to none would she yield an inch of her rights." There is a story which will illustrate her firmness. In her old age the court tried to force a person into one of her boroughs who was most objectionable to her. This proceeding her high spirit would not tolerate, hence the following outburst, in a letter to the prime minister : — " I have been bullied by an usurper ; I have been neglected by a court ; but I will not be dictated to by a subject ; your man shall not stand ! " After the death of her second husband she spent her time and money in deeds of charity and the building and repairing of numerous castles and churches, besides the keep of Appleby, the castles of Skipton, Brougham, Pendragon, Brough, and Barden Tower, the churches of Skipton, Ninekirks, Brougham, Mallerstang, and Appleby were either rebuilt or restored. The church of Saint Lawrence, at the latter place, dates from the twelfth century; for, in 1 173, the town, as we have said, was sacked and burned by the Scots, whilst in charge of Gospatric, son of Orm, who had a fine ___ of five hundred marks imposed on him and smaller sums upon the other head men for allowing the castle to be surprised and stormed and the town burnt. The church was destroyed in the general ruin attendant on this raid, and two years later, in 1176, it was rebuilt by the orders of the king, and a strong tower added, to act as a place of refuge and defence in the time of war, and thus it remained without much alteration for nigh 500 years, until the good Countess of Pem- broke restored it at a cost of 700 pounds, and in her own words, she says : " I caused a vault to be made in the north-east corner of the church for myself to be buried in," and there, in the north side of the chancel, in the chantry chapel, is the vault of the Cliffords, on which rests an effigy of Lady Annie Clifford, of glorious memory, and on her tomb are the armorial bearings of her ancestors, dating back to the days of the early Norman kings. Another recum- bent figure within the altar rails is to the memory of Eleanor, Countess of Cumberland, mother of Lady Annie. The church is spacious, yet lacking the interest we might expect to find here. For magnificence and splendour of armorial bearings, richness ^M' Arms of the Cliffords. 120 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland, and Ribblesdale, and delicacy of workmanship, the tombs of Lady Annie and her mother at Appleby do not at all vie with the tombs of the Cliffords at Skipton, and here, as one of the most worthy members of the great Clifford family, she ought to have rested adorned, but it was the filial love for her mother which prompted her to be buried at Appleby. At the top of the street, near the entrance-gate to the castle grounds, stands the Countess Pillar, on which are inscribed the following lines : — "Retain your loyalty, Preserve your rights.'' Passing the entrance-gate we reach the seat of the Earl of Hotam. The present structure has been built upon the site and partly into the wall of the old castle. The venerable and majes- tic keep, known as Caesar's tower, stands at the west end of the quadrangular green, testifying to the strength and import- ance of this strong- hold in past cen- turies, and the remains of other earthworks also tell of an earlier structure of defence. The hall, amongst many interesting pic- tures and ancient furniture, contains the the magnificent suit Knights Templars. of armour wom by George Clifford in the tilt-yard, as champion to his royal mistress. Queen Elizabeth. It is richly gilt and embossed in gold, and ornamented with fleurs-de-lis, and his horse-armour is of equal splendour. This is said to be the finest suit of armour extant. George, the third Earl of Cumberland, was one of the most noted men of his time, and one of the forty peers who tried the unfortunate Mary, Queen of Scots, and was also one of the four charged to carry out the execution. The views from the battlements of Caesar's tower are both extensive and beautiful, the vale of the Eden winding, dreamlike, beneath. The names Battlebarrow, Doomgate, Bondgate, Gallows Hill, Douglas Ing, and Weind Row are strangely suggestive of the past. Appleby. 121 Crossing the bridge again we follow the Great North Road to Crackenthorpe. At the ancient Manor House dwell the Machells, who claim descent from Malus Colutus, a Roman centurion. Apart from any legendary claim, there is certain evidence of their possession of the estate here for upwards of 800 years. The village of Long Marton and its church is very interesting. Kirkbythore, two miles away, is the site of a Roman station or camp. This district has yielded many antiquities, and during the rebuilding of the bridge over Troutbeck in 1838, an immense quantity of coins and ancient jewellery were discovered embedded in the old foundations. Two miles further is the village of Sowerby, granted in the reign of the second Henry to the Knights Templars,* hence its present name Temple Sowerby. It is a beautiful village, and the scenes along the river Eden, which here slightly bends to the north-east, are very charming. Formerly it was a custom at this village for the men to assemble on the green on the first of May, to compete for several prizes, three of which were reserved for the singular contest in the noble art of lying, the inhabitants to be the judges. The first prize was a grindstone, a useful article for a villager ; the second was a hone or wetstone, useful in sharpening knives, razors, or small tools ; the third prize was a wetstone of an inferior description. The candidate who contests for the prize begins a story — the most absurd and improbable — the more marvellous and romantic the better. After a considerable part of the day is spent in foolish-like pastimes and games at wrestling, the day often ended in a free fight or two. The Bishop of Carlisle was once passing through the village when this festival was in full swing. He inquired the reason of the assembly of the villagers, and on being made aware of the facts, he lectured the people rather severely on the sin and foolishness of such a diversion. " For my part," the Bishop said, " I never told a lie in my life ; " upon hearing this the judge immediately awarded the hone to his Lordship, and when he refused to accept it he threw it into his carriage after him, telling him that in the future it would be useful to sharpen ivits with. * The Knights Templars, an order of monkish warriors, which was formed soon after the capture of Jerusalem from the Saracens, by the Crusaders, under Godfrey de Buuillon, 1099. They resided near the Temple in the Holy City, hence the name of Templar, or Knights of the Temple. They observed many of the monastic rules, and made a vow to defend the Holy Sepulchre from the infidel, and also to entertain pilgrims who went to Jerusalem for devotion, and to guard them in safety when visiting the scenes of our Saviour's wanderings in the Holy Land. Their dress was white, with a red cross on their breasts. They were composed of men from all nations in Christendom, and were possessed of great riches ; in this country they held many a rich castle and manor. When the Crusaders were on the march, the Knights Templars led the van, and the Knights of St. John brought up the rear. St. Bernard says of these Knights : " They detest cards and dice, and abominate all shows, songs, and discourse of a loose nature. When they enter into a battle, they arm themselves with faith within, and steel without ; having no ornament either upon themselves or their horses. Their arms are their only finery, and they make use of them with courage, not being daunted either at the number or force of the barbarians." For such a cause was formed this great chivalrous order of Knights Templars. In after time, as they acquired more wealth, they also grew remiss in the practice of their former virtues, until at length their order was finally suppressed. At Temple Sowerby there was also an hospital entirely supported and attended to by these Knights Templars for the benefit of pilgrims and warfarers. CHAPTER X. VALE OF THE LOWTHER. GAIN diverging some twelve miles west from the Eden country, we renew our wanderings in the Vale of the Lowther, which flows for several miles along the eastern fringe of Lakeland. The Lowther river rises and has its numerous feeders in High Street, Hater Fell, Blea Water, Kidsty Pike, whilst to the east other streams rise in Harrop Pike and Shap Fells, flow through Mossdale and Swindale and unite at Bampton, and thence through the beautiful . ^ , _ Vale of the Lowther, past Lowther Park and ^^^y^ — ^ ^ '^ -^ — ^"^iy Askham Village, passing Brougham Hall, and entering the Eamont near the ruins of Brougham Castle. The ruins of the Abbey of Shap lie embosomed in a deep and lovely vale, on the west side of the river, a spot well adapted for religious seclusion, hid, as it were, from the world, and surrounded on every side by bleak moorland. Hawes Water is a very small lake, being less than three miles in length, and not much more than a quarter in breadth in its widest part. The situation of the water amongst the mountains is most wildly picturesque. On the south-east side is a steep wood, called Naddle Forest, which casts a deep solemn shadow across half the lake. At the upper end, Kidsty Pike on one hand, Silside Pike and Hater Fell in the immediate background, towers high above all. Vale of the Lowther. ^n The grey shades of a Sabbath evening in October were fast drawing a silent mantle over hill, dale, and water, as we wandered across the Bampton Moors, until we reached the highest point, and looked down on the lake for the first time ; the silence amongst the hills was most profound, neither the sky above, or the earth beneath being dis- turbed by any force. The lake, far below, lay deep, placid, and sombre, the only contrast being when the gentle breeze faintly rippled the surface of the water, and on one side the dark hues of Naddle Forest were reflected in darker form beneath. A fringe of land juts out into the lake, so as almost to form two sheets of water. r^^g, J, WH^t^eiF'/^g,^^ From our position we could see the grey mountain road turning and twining round the foot of the serried hill, and along the edge of the lake, where some half dozen houses and farms can be discerned resting under the hills, which rise in billowy form, tier above tier, half hidden in by the deepening shadow of night. The silver grey and green of moss and rock, rendered more harmonious in tone by gorse and bracken, now assuming the deep yellow tinge of Autumn. Yet even here, as we rest, musing, undisturbed amidst scenes formed by the convulsions of 1-4 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. Nature ages ago, and far away from the innovation of man, we can see a thin curh'ng line of smoke, and hear the sound of the locomotive speeding on its way to some busy hive of industry ; soon the smoke disappears and the train passes out of hearing. The gloaming silently steals apace ; all is hushed in Nature's temple ; the veil of night, with its dark shadows, brings forth from the mist of ages visions of the old British warriors, who fought, worshipped, and were buried in the solitude of the moors around, as the numerous stone circles, monoliths, and other pre-historic monuments and cairn in the district of Shap, Bampton, Heltondale, and at Moor Divock still testify. Turning our steps across the hills, past tarn and morass, awesome and lonely in the evening light ; then over the waste of moorland, across which sweetly sounded the pealing bells of Bampton Church, typical of the religion of the Christian Church of the present, and a striking contrast to those rude circles and monoliths, telling of dark superstition of the past ages. Mistaking our course, we went stumbling along for some time evidently lost, and it was now dusk — luckily we were guided to a moorland farm by the sound of children's voices, who, courteously, at our request guided us over the moor. An old water mill, with its wheel and sound of falling water, is certainly a pleasing feature, and marks a lovely spot just before passing into the Bampton road ; from whence could be heard the bellowing of stags in Lowther Park, some three or four miles away, sounding in the stillness of night like roaring lions thirsting for prey. Now forward through Helton, with its echoes of the past, and clinging to the hillside on the west bank of the Lowther we reach Askham, our destination for the night. Reverting for a moment, before proceeding, to briefly mention the paths from the south to Hawes Water, are by way of Kentmere and High Street, 2,700 feet, along whose ridge ran a Roman road, said to be the highest in England, hence High Street. Mardale Green is near the head of the lake. Here is an inn, the Dun Bull, where the traveller can obtain needful refreshment. Another route from Windermere is by the vale of Troutbeck, and over by Scot's Rake and Thornthwaite Crag. From Patterdale the path leads by way of Low Hartsope, along the side of a wild torrent, past the east side of Playes Water to the head of the stream, thence to the left over the summit of the mountain and forward to Mardale. The only danger of mishap to the tourist in the above mentioned routes, is that of being caught in a storm of mist and rain ; at such time there is real danger, yet the effect of the light and shadow, gloom and grandeur, showers sweeping the hill tops, huge clouds of mist — like some awful dream shrouding the mountains in darkness, then as suddenly dissolving into patches, and gliding mysteriously away like some ariel shreds of a lost world, is truly wonderful in panoramic effect and beauty. The writer and a friend one morning left Ambleside intending to dine at Mardale, but after wandering among the mountains all the day, instead of reaching the above place, arrived at Howtown, Ulleswatcr, at eleven in the evening. A light Vale of the LoivtJier. 125 shower or two of rain swept over the hills as we toiled up the twining road to the White House — the Kirkstone Pass Inn. Here, bending to the right, we left the road and every sign of track, and turned into the hills, where for several hours we wandered in silence, except for the sound of our own voices and footsteps, and the noise of unruly torrents leaping from the hills. The extreme wildness and majesty, and the wonderful effects of mist and cloud, accompanied by all the marvellous transforming hues and grades of sunlight and shadow — sometimes we were wreathed in a mist cloud, which, like a curtain of night, enveloped mountain and vale in its embrace. Again the sky was blue overhead, whilst beneath was the cloud shutting the world beneath from gaze. Then as if angered, sullenly rolling away under the effect of some strong unseen agency revealing to our astonished gaze a deep ravine, along whose brink, all unknown, we had been walking. One most charming atmospheric effect which we can never forget, was obtained from the heights of Stony Cove, some two thousand five hundred feet. We looked down the vale of Troutbeck, winding and twining so mysteriously through mountains and clouds to Lake Windermere, which could be discerned resting as it were, in the clouds, for the water, wreathed in a golden network of mist, shone with the brilliancy of molten silver, appearing to be framed or sus- pended in the clouds, for neither hill or any other object were visible. Instead of crossing High Street and passing eastward to Blea Tarn, we bore too much to the north, and thus after toiling for hours in the mountains, through drizzling showers and grey vapour, with the accompaniment of a stray gleam of sunshine and shadow, we arrived at Low Hartsope at five in the afternoon, the first house we had seen during our eight hours' wandering. Here we were provided with a good tea, and, thoroughly refreshed, we resumed our journey, determined to sleep at Mardale. We were unable to obtain definite instructions as to the route, we inquired particularly if we should pass Hayes Water before bearing to the left, but were told by the farmer, who had only been at Mardale once, to turn to the left before reaching the Tarn ; trouble was in store for us on that night, for after struggling up the mountains, through rain and mist-cloud, and the deepening shadows, we again lost our bearings on Briggendale, and after wading through several noisy torrents and round the north base of Kidsty Pike — the mountains looming out like huge giants, silent and majestic in their loneliness. On the slopes of the Pike, we sighted a herd of red deer • owing to the wreathing of the mist we had approached them unseen, and their graceful movements, as they timidly peered down at us, and then sped into darkness, gave interest to a scene that was otherwise becoming wearisome. Now we struck a large stream, 126 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Ribblesdale. which we followed for two or three miles, thinking meanwhile, by following it, we must sooner or later arrive at Hawes Water. Passing into a rough trackway, evident signs of civilization, we reached a farm, but the occupants had retired to rest, and evidently to sleep, for only after repeated knocking, a head was thrust forth, and a voice exclaimed, " Wha's there?" "How far are we from the Dun Bull Inn, Mardale ? " "In ta teens a miles; ye'll nivver get there te neet," and sure enough to our surprise, we discovered that for the last hour or more, we had been traversing Martindale, for a bend in the road disclosed to our view the modest church of Martindale, a spot well known to us. We found lodgings for the night at Howtown, where the good people soon had a roaring fire, and after we A Mountain Road, Kirkstone. '- ^dmr. retired to rest, spread our attire to dry. Next morning we were up betimes and took a stroll on Swarth Fell, paid a hurried visit to a few old scenes,' and then took boat up Ulleswater, and the coach from Patterdale Hotel to Windermere, over Kirkston Pass, etc., a most enjoyable drive although thoroughly fatigued with the previous day's wild tramp. The sublimity and majesty of the effect of mist and rain-cloud witnessed, amply repays, for once in a while, the aching bones and the discomfort of a thorough drenching. Yet it is not given to everyone to fully appreciate and enjoy these sublime phases of nature ; for instance, a friend of the writer, and a great enthusiast on lake and mountain scenery, took two of his neighbours for a day or two to the lakes, he having previously given them glowing accounts of the scenery. The first day was spent in climbing Helvellyn, etc. Unfortunately Vale of the Low titer. 1 27 for the comfort of his friends, the day was rather misty, yet giving forth wonderful effects and vistas on lake and mountain. For a long time his companions trudged on in silence; at last one of them spoke out as follows : " Ah say. Jack, if this is what tha calls thee lake scenery, ah think nout ta it. Ah don't naw wheer tha puts thee een. I'm shure its God help thaa, for tha'U niver be able to help thee self." Askham is a most picturesque and rural village on the west bank of the Lowther river, some five miles from Penrith. The situation is both romantic and charming. The houses are irregularly scattered on the borders, and high sloping banks of a large green, being more attractive by the number of large trees, and the beautiful park and woods of Lowther on one hand, and Fell on the other. It is used as a rendezvous for all kinds of disabled implements of husbandry, stick heaps, etc., where children and flocks of geese, ducks, and fowls disport at pleasure. It was against the wish of one man at least that we should not do likewise during our stay at Askham. The cottage, our abode during our visit, was near the centre of the green. One night, after retiring to rest, we were disturbed by the angry voice of an over-officious game watcher. This person had, an hour or so earlier, eyed us over, as I thought, rather suspiciously at the village inn near by. Whether he had taken a wee drop too much, and, under such conditions, had mistaken us for dangerous poachers, we knew not ; anyhow, at closing time, and just after we had retired for the evening, a loud knock sounded on the door, and on our host opening it, the game-keeper, a big, burly, sour-looking fellow, enquired if two men— strangers to the village — were staying at his house. On our host answering in the affirmative, he questioned him regarding our antecedents, business, and object in staying at Askham. On being told that we were in bed, and it would be best for him to call and interview us in the morning, he declined to do so, and threatened to fetch the village constable, and have us arrested as suspicious characters. Our bed- room window being immediately over the doorway, and the evening being warm, it was wide open, and thus we heard everything which passed. At first we were indignant, but soon the outrageous demands of the keeper caused us to become inwardly convulsed with laughter. Our host expostulated with him, and told him to be careful before proceeding to such extremities, acquainting him with the fact that we had obtained an interview with the Countess of Lonsdale, and had written per- mission to sketch or wander on any portion of the estate. This the keeper said was false, and still persisted in his original charge, the scene being only terminated by closing and bolting the door in his face, and we could hear the fellow pass over the green growling vengeance on our heads. We give this fact to show that there still remains in certain districts that high-handedness and overbearing officiousness, more akin to the sixteenth century than the closing part of the nineteenth. Had 128 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakelayid^ and Ribblesdale. we apprised the Countess of the fact, no doubt the insolent and ill-bred fellow would have been summarily dismissed. The stream is crossed at the foot of the village by a very rustic old bridge, and near to, on the west bank of the river, stands Askham Hall, now the Rectory, belonging to Lowther Church. " Thomas Sandford, Esquire, for this paid meat and hyre, the year of our Savioure, XV hundredd and seventy foure." It stands between the village and the river, which is here contracted into a narrow gorge. The house is really a massive peel tower, sheltered on two sides by dense woodland, and beautified by ever-changing foliage. The front is protected by a deep hollow or moat, in former days being filled with water, and now forms a very beautiful garden. There is a very ancient and curious gateway to the courtyard, decorated with rope moulding. Askham Church, on the opposite side of the road, is situated on the first plateau above the sounding river, and its grey walls stand out in fine relief against a background of deep green woods. From the church we cross over to Lowther Castle, situated in a beautiful timbered park, comprising several hundred acres, where a herd of red deer roam, and in the rutting season the stags make the place re- sound with their bellowing. The castle, a magnificent Windsor of the north, stands in palatial splendour, with its numerous towers, terraces, and battlements, impressing the beholder with the dignity and importance of the Lowther Family. Lowther Church (half circled by the river, which here winds deep below, ever singing a requiem to the dead as it passes the graveyard) consists of nave, chancel, aisles, and two chapels, filled with memorials of the family. In one reposes the effigy of Sir Richard, who died early in the 17th century. The south aisle also contains several memorials of the Lonsdales. Four semi-circular arches divide the nave from the aisle, and date from the late Norman period. The church has been thoroughly renovated, and was most beautiful on our visit, being adorned with fruits of the woods and fields for harvest thanksgiving. The Lowthers are said to Vale of the Lowther. 129 have been settled in Westmoreland generations before the Conquest. The name is supposed to be Danish, and derived from the words " Loth " and " er," signifying fortune and honour. However this may be, ever since the 12th century, the period when the Westmorelands became annexed to the English Crown, has there been a Lowther of Lowther; the present castle is probably the fourth structure which has stood on or near this spot. The one standing in the i6th century was in the shape of the letter H, a central building, joined on to two tower-like wings. The Lowthers have ever been notable men in the cause of the country, and although rarely have they increased their estates by marriage, yet their wealth and possessions have been accumulating through the centuries until they have become equal to princes in a social position, frequently entertaining monarchs as their guests. Vale of the Lowther, Lowther Park. FROM A PHOTO BY E. BOGG. A Sir Hugh de Lowther, a notable soldier, took part in the Wars of France and fought under Henry the Fifth at Agincourt. In the reign of Queen Bess, Sir Richard Lowther, as Lord Warden of the Western Marches, met Queen Mary when she landed on English soil, after the disastrous battle of Langside, and it was whilst she was in the custody of the nobleman that she was visited by the Duke of Norfolk, for which Sir Richard incurred the severe displeasure of Elizabeth. A Sir John Lowther greatly distinguished himself in the cause of William and Mary, by seizing a vessel laden with arms and ammunition, laying in Workington Harbour (for the use of the garrison at Carlisle), then in the service of King James. I30 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. This was done before the landing of the Prince of Orange, and if the latter had failed in his expedition, it would have been a sorry day for Sir John. De Quincey says of Sir James Lowther,* the first Lord Lonsdale : — " He was a true feudal chieftain, and in the very approaches to his mansion, in the style of his equipage, or whatever else was likely to meet the public eye, he delighted to express his disdain of modern refinement by the haughty carelessness of his magnificence. The coach in which he used to visit Penrith was old and neglected ; his horses fine and untrimmed, and such was the impression diffused about him by his gloomy temper and his habits of oppression, that, according to the declaration of a Penrith contemporary of the old despot, the streets were silent as he traversed them, and an awe sat upon many faces. In his park you saw some of the most magnificent timber in the kingdom — trees that were coeval with the feuds of York and Lancaster, yews that perhaps had furnished bows to Coeur de Lion, and oak that might have built a navy. All was savage ,'" ' grandeur about these native forests ; their sweeping lawns and glades had been unapproached for centuries, it might be, by the hand of art ; and amongst them roamed, not the timid fallow deer, but thundering droves of wild horses ! Superstition made his ' ghost ' more terrible and notorious after his death than the veritable ' despot ' had been during his life." Mr. Sullivan says : — " He was with difficulty buried, and whilst the clergyman was praying over him, he very nearly knocked the reverend gentleman from his desk ! When placed in the grave, the power of creating alarm was not interred with his bones. There were disturbances in the hall, noises * There is a story of how the eccentric Sir James Lowther fell desperately in love with a young woman of no connection, whom he casually met. He induced her to live with him, hired a handsome residence in Hampshire, kept her a large establishment, and was passionately fond of her society. It is doubtful whether his love was returned, or the lady was very happy in the midst of her splendour. She was, however, taken seriously ill and died, and so great was the grief of the earl, that none of his servants durst mention the subject in his presence. The body remained unburied for a considerable period, until the servants, who, unlike their master, had not lost their sense of smell, found it impossible to continue in the house, and so steps were taken to have the corpse removed. His favourite valet undertook to speak to his lord, but no sooner had he mentioned the subject than he was driven from the room, and ordered never to speak to his master again. At length, however, the body was deposited in a tomb at Paddington, which he had ordered to be prepared for its reception ; and a detachment of the Cumberland Militia sent to London to mount guard night and day until the tomb was finished ; but he himself was for a long time overwhelmed with grief, and continued to Avear deep mourning for her whom he h^d loved so well and so soon lost. Such are the strange stories still told of this nobleman. ^V/^lELC^/^ET Clifton Peel Tower. Vale of the Lowther. 131 in the stables ; neither men nor animals were suffered to rest. At length, after many an effort, a priest laid him under a large rock called Wallow Crag, and laid him for ever. The mind and character of his successor, the second earl, was very different." Two miles east from Lowther is Clifton, the scene of the battle of Clifton Moor, fought between Prince Charles the Pretender and the Duke of Cumberland. Both parties claimed the victory. However, after the engagement the highlanders retreated in the direction of Carlisle, whilst the Duke and his men slept for the night on the scene of the engagement. The village of Clifton possesses an interesting and very ancient church, also a massive peel tower of the fifteenth century. The church is dedicated to St. Cuthbert, and is one of the spots where the monks, bearing the body of the Saint, rested awhile during their long and weary pilgrimages. The church stands on a slight eminence overlooking the roadway. The structure wears a most venerable and antique appearance. The porch is beautifully decorated with ivy. A sun-dial is mounted on the shaft of an ancient churchyard cross. Clifton belongs to the Wyberghs, and has done since the days of Edward the Third. A tablet in the church has the following inscription : — mm. ire ^ghrg^ marriei^ €Icanor, ge onljr traug^ter anb soU J^ir^sB of (iilhrt be (Bugant of Clifton, m ge Countg of ^estmorl^ ill ge 38 of |i. €bb^- jre 3rb. ^g foj^b Eleanor tame ge manor of Clifton to ge 2EKghrgbs.* The strong peel tower, with its stout walls and battlements, in close contiguity to the church, now stands peacefully enough in the midst of a farm- yard, and surrounded by corn ricks. Its days of warfare are passed, yet its appearance appeals strongly to the imagination, and to the times when might was right. It is now used for a combination of domestic and farmyard purposes. Proceeding a mile or so from Clifton, we bear to the right, skirting Brougham Park, where the Hall, the seat of the Brougham family, stands so charmingly situated on the bank of the Lowther river. It is a most interesting place. Near by is a fine old church dedicated to St. Wilfred. The Hall was the residence of the illustrious * The Wayberghs, or Wyberghs, are a very ancient family ; they gave their name to a small parish in western lakeland, namely, Waberthwaite, on the south shore of the Esk. K2 OF THE WyBEI\C(H6 \ 132 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Ribblesdale. Lord Brougham, Lord Chancellor of England. A mile further east, and some two miles from Penrith, on the south bank of the Eamont, Just immediately below where that river joins with the river Lowther, stand the ruins of Brougham Castle. The surroundings are most picturesque, and is the site of the Roman Camp of Brovacum. The place is well chosen, and would be almost impregnable in the old days. The ruins of the castle are extensive, and from them we learn the former magnificence of the place, and the power and glory of the Clifford family. From an artistic point of view, not geographical or architectural, the element of beauty and impressiveness, combined v/ith sentiment, colour and technique, is most absorbing to a true student of nature. The castle stands grim and ragged, like the mighty wreck of some stranded ship. It was not always thus — the mute memorials tell us of belted knight, the tramp of armies, and the noise of war. To- day the scene is peaceable enough, crows caw and croak as they flit in and around the ruin, the sun throws warm rays on the old sand- stone walls, light- ing it with an almost luminous brilliancy, the other part sombre in deep shadow ; grass and rank Brougham Castle. VCgCtation thrivC in the walls and courtyard, and the Eamont flows sweetly past, sparkling into beautiful wavelets, singing its lullaby song as of yore. A deep moat and other defensive work are still visible. The castle came into the possession of the Cliffords, by the marriage of Roger de Clifford with an heiress of the Vetteriponts, Barons of Westmoreland, an important family who have left their impress on the scroll of fame. It was a member of this house, who at Senlac, rescued and remounted William Mallett, whose horse had been killed, and the knight placed in the greatest jeopardy. Vale of the E anion t, 133 During the possession of the Vetteriponts the place was known as the House of Brougham. It was strengthened and castellated by Roger de Clifford, who, over the inner gateway, caused to be carved the inscription : " This made Roger," alluding no doubt to the rise in his fortunes by his marriage with an heiress. An ancestor of this Roger, Walter de Clifford, was father of "Fayre Rosamund," Mistress of Henry the Second, and mother, by the King, of the gallant William Longspere, or Longspear, Earl of Salisbury. In the time of the first Robert de Clifford, Edward Baliol, King of Scotland, stayed some time with him at Brougham, and other places. During his visit they coursed a stag, with a single hound, out of Whinfell Forest to Red Kirke in Scotland, and back again to the same place. Being both spent, the stag leaped over the pales, and died there ; but the dog, attempting to leap, fell, and died on the opposite side. As a memorial of this incident, the stag's horns were nailed upon a tree close by, and the dog being named Hercules, this couplet obtained currency amongst the people : "Hercules kill'd Hart-a-grease, And Hart-a-grease killed Hercules." ***** " Then went they down into a laund, These noble archers three ; Eche of them slew a hart of grease, The best that they could see." — Song of Adam Bell. In course of time, it is stated, the horns became grafted, as it were, upon the tree, by reason of the bark growing over their root, and there they remained more than three centuries, till, in the year 1648, one of the branches was broken off, and ten years afterwards the remainder was secretly taken down. " So now," says Lady Ann Clifford, in her Diary, " there is no part thereof remaining, the tree itself being so decayed, and the bark of it so peeled off that it cannot last long ; whereby we may see that time brings to forgetfulness many memorable things in this world — be they ever so carefully preserved — for this tree with the hart's horn in it, was a thing of much note in these parts." " Here stood an oak, that long had borne, affixed Mutual the victory, mutual the defeat ! To his huge trunk, or, with more subtle art, High was the trophy hung with pitiless pride, Among its withering topmost branches mixed, Say, rather, with that generous sympathy The palmy antlers of a hunted Hart, That wants not, even in rudest breasts, a seat ; Whom the dog, Hercules, pursued — his part And for this feeling's sake, let no one chide Each desperately sustaining, till at last Verse that would guard thy memory. Both sank and died, the life-veins of the chased — Hart's- Horn Tree.'^ And chaser bursting here with one dire smart. Saint Ninian, a British bishop, said to have been a native of Galloway, preached and baptized the people in the Eamont, at Brougham, and a church was soon after- 134 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland^ and Ribblesdale. wards erected, some two miles lower down the river ; and in memory of the bishop's visit was dedicated to St. Ninian, hence the appellation Nine Churches (nino — nine). Half-a-mile north from Brougham Castle we reach Penrith, pleasantly situated and sheltered from the north by the land rising considerably up to the beacon, from whence magnificent and far-reaching views can be obtained. Southward the town looks over the lovely pas- tures and wooded vales of the Eden, the Eamont, and the Lowther, on the verge of which, tower in amphi- theatrical form, hills and crags, the most wild and grand in England. In the east, Cross Fell, Stainmore, and the great Penine Range. South, is Wild Boar's Fell, and High Seat. West, the peaks above Ulleswater and Hawes Water crown the scene with wildness and beauty, with the grand crest of Helvellyn and Skiddaw showing out bold and majestic. The name of the town is said to be derived from Pen — a Hill, Rith — or Rhudd, the red hill. It is a place of great antiquity, and is supposed to have been inhabited with a large population for those early times. Such names as Penruddock, Pendragon, Blencowe, Blencathara, and the relics around — for instance, the Round Table, Maybrough, the Giant's Grave, the numerous stone circles, etc., all suggest to us memorials of an ancient British kingdom, with Penrith as its capital. Street Scene, Penrith. FROM A PHOTO. BY E. BOGG. Vale of the Bajuont. 135 It was totally destroyed by the influx of Caledonians, on the withdrawal of the Romans, about the end of the fifth century, and the present town was then established in the centre of the great forest of Inglewood. From the ninth to the twelfth century it was in the possession of the Scots, and on three occasions, between the above dates and the fourteenth century, the town suffered considerably at their hands. During the reign of Edward the Third, thirty thousand warriors burst on the town like an avalanche, burnt it, and carried off the inhabitants, and sold them like cattle to the highest bidders. In 1715, and again in 1745, the Pretender's forces passed through Penrith ; no opposition of any serious nature was offered them, except on their return, during the last insurrection, when the skirmish took place on Clifton Moor, already mentioned. The approach to Penrith from the south is very wide and imposing. Anciently it was considered the greatest thoroughfare in the North of England. There are also several narrow side streets containing curious bits of ancient property. The chief objects of interest are the rude-shaped monuments in the churchyard, the church tower, and the ruins of the castle. The two most remark- able stone pillars, standing on the north side of the church, are venerable objects of antiquity. Tradition reports they were placed over the grave of a mighty warrior and prince, who dwelt in those parts during the old British occupation. His name was Ewen Caisarius, and his strength and stature were so great that no man in those days was his equal. He was also celebrated as a hunter, and woe be the wild boar which came within measurable distance of his spear or felt the full effect of his club. The pillars which mark the resting-place of this chief are in the shape of ancient spears, over ten feet in height and fifteen feet apart, standing east and west, parallel with the church, and between, as if to protect the sides of the grave, are four stones, about two feet high, of hog back shape. Before the alteration of the church in the eighteenth century, these stones stood exactly opposite to the north, or devil's door. Whatever 136 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribbtesdale. object the stones may have been raised to commemorate, they are most remarkable evidence of the antiquity of Penrith, and we seem almost to catch a vista into the past, whilst ruminating before them. A few yards distant is another upright stone with two perforations at the top, as if meant for a cross — this stone is about five feet in height, and is undoubtedly Saxon. We are told that Sir Walter Scott never failed to visit these remains of antiquity, when passing through Penrith. The church, dedicated to St. Andrew, is, apart from the tower, a plain Corinthian structure, with a flat panelled ceiling, with side galleries, reminding one of a city tabernacle of the eighteenth century. On the east window over the altar table are two very fine allegorical subjects, representing scenes in the life of our Saviour. There are also rare portraits in stained glass, in a south window, of Richard Plantagenet and his wife, Cicely Neville. The ancient churchwarden's chest, with its four massive locks, is specially interesting. The modern structure is tacked on to an early Norman tower, the walls of which are of great strength, and has outlived three churches. The castle ruins, like a giant skeleton, command the town from the west, but are by no means picturesque. Penrith is a good centre from which to visit the many beautiful and historic spots in the district. Renewing our pilgrimage we pass on to Eamont Bridge. The village is very quaint and interesting, many of the houses dating from the seventeenth century, there is a substantial old bridge, with fluted arches. Opposite the Crown Hotel, and at the junction of the Pooley and North road is King Arthur's Round Table. It consists of a circular area or platform, surrounded by a fosse. The outer embankment seems as if formed for spectators, and the central plateau for the combatants to perform their feats of arms, such as, for instance. Sir Walter mentions in his " Bridal of Tricrmain." "He passed Red Penrith's Table Round, For feats of chivalry renowned ; Left Mayborough's mound and stones of power, By Druids raised in magic hour, And traced the Eamont's winding way, Till Ulfo's lake beneath him lay." Window in which are the Portraits of Richard Plantagentt and Cicely Neville. Vak of the Eamoni. 13; On the opposite side of the Pooley Bridge road to the Round Table is the Druid's grove, or Mayborough. It is a circular area of some three hundred feet in diameter, surrounded by a mound of pebble stones twelve feet high. The entrance is from the east, and is twelve yards wide within the arc. This district is wonderfully rich in monuments of pre-historic times, and formerly they were much more numerous. This is the region where the most celebrated of King Arthur's knights roamed in search of adventure. It was near Brougham, on the banks of the Eamont, that Sir Lancelot, the noblest knight of the world, slew the mighty giant Tarquin, and liberated three-score knights ; and there are many similar feats recorded of these knights. It was here, also, in Great Inglewood, or Cale- donian Forest, that Paladin Rinaldo wandered in search of fame and adventure ; where, amongst " antique shady oaks, the sound of sword against sword was frequently heard." Yanwath Hall, the one wathe or ford, is situate, as its name implies, by the Eamont, and the old peel tower was built to guard the ford over the river. It is now a farm-house, but the old tower still remains. It was formerly the seat of the Threlkelds. A mile further is Barton Church, crowning a circular eminence, and dedicated to St. Michael. The tower of the church is not very high, but is of immense strength, and has evidently been used as a peel, or place of refuge in time of war. Apart from the strength of the tower, the church could easily be surrounded by water, and from appearances this has often been done in the olden days. Barton Church. 138 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. Near by, in the direction of Dalemain, is a good specimen of an ancient manor house, now used as a farm. Its yellow walls, antique windows, and gables form a very interesting picture of a sixteenth-century house. Crossing the Eamont by a wooden bridge, we enter the beautiful park of Dalemain, belonging to the Hasells, where is a large herd of deer which have a good range over Martindale and Place Fells. Passing the mansion, through beautiful scenery, we reach Dacre Castle, some four miles from Penrith. The fortress is still in a fair state of preservation, and now the An Interior View, Dacre Castle. o. bowen, from photo, by e. bogg. abode of a working man. It is a strong, though plain, building, with battlemented parapets and a square turret at the four corners. Portions of a deep moat can still be traced, and one room is still known as the room of the three kings, from a conference which took place here in 933, during the reign of the good king Athelstan, who had given his sister in marriage to Sithric, King of Northumbria ; but the latter having violated all his obligations to Athelstan, was only saved from swift punishment by death. His sons, Anlaf and Guthred, fled to the court of Constantine, King of Scot- land, who, with the assistance of Donal of Strathclyde, attempted to reinstate the refugees in their dominion, but were unsuccessful. VaU of the Eamont. 1 39 The three kings met at Dacre, and there agreed to terms dictated by Athelstan. Soon after this conference all the Northern Kingdoms were up in arms against the Saxon monarch, and his destruction seemed inevitable. In this huge confederacy were the Kings of Cumbria, Wales, Ireland, and Scotland, assisted by a large Danish fleet of 615 sail, who entered the Humber and occupied Northumbria. This immense army, composed of many nations, was met by Athelstan on the field of Brunnanburgh, and his army fell on their foes with such terrible onslaught that few returned to their country to carry the dismal tidings of ill-omen. As the Danes, and Irish, and Scotch, fled to their ships, the west Saxons pressed hard in the footsteps of the loathed nations. "They hewed the fugitives, behind, amain, with swords mill sharp," " while on the battle stead lay five youthful kings, and seven eke of Anlafs earls." " Constantine, hoary warrior, he had no cause to exult in the communion of swords. Here was his kindred and friends, o'erthrown on the falkstead, in battle slain ; and his son he left on the slaughter place, mangled with wounds, young in the fight, thus a terrible vengeance was enacted, but the throne of Athelstan was secured, and his northern subjects humbled. He left behind him a terrible carnage field, the sallowy kite the corse to devour, and the s warty raven with horned nib, and the dusky ' pada,' erne white tailed, the corse to enjoy, greedy war hawk, and the grey beast, wolf of the wood. Carnage greater has not been in this island ever yet, of people slain . before this, by edges of swords, as books say, old writers since from the east hither, Angles and Saxons came to land, o'er the broad seas Britain sought, mighty war- smiths, the Welsh o'ercame, earls most bold, this earth obtained." The church contains an ^^%y of a Lord Dacre, attired in chain mail. Near the entrance are stone figures of bears sitting on their haunches. The whole place is lovely, and breathes in eloquent language memories of days that will never come again. Two miles further up the Eamont we reach Pooley Bridge, where the water beauti- fully filters from Lake Ulleswater into the river. At Pooley are two good hotels, and a bridge of many arches spans the Eamont. The scenery around is most charming, and as you ascend to the higher reaches of the lake the hills rise out of the water more precipitous and bold, forming scenes of noble grandeur the most magnificent in England. 'Tis an evening in early autumn ; we are resting on the bridge at Pooley. The sound of the last coach passing to Penrith can be heard in the distance. Before us spreads a vision of rare charm and pastoral sweetness ; the peace of nature over- spreads lake and mountain, and nothing disturbs the harmony of the calm, soft twilight of evening, breathing a sweet verdant tone on to the herbage, massing the tall trees that overhang in sombre hue the beautiful Eamont, which glides in shallow ripples from the lake under the bridge, and murmurs around the modest islets resting in the wide bed of the stream, covered with a rank growth of tall grass and willowy shrubs, 140 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Ribbiesdate. as the water intersects the narrow channel in the hue of the eveninp^, the sweet flowings and purHng of mimic waves add an unspeakable charm and beauty to the spot. The deepening hue of twilight has now softened the outlines of the grey stone dwellings adjoining the brink of the river, until they assume the appearance of nature's rock under that shadowy mystery of night Turning from this spot we follow the course of the river until it widens into the lake, above which the mountains loom grim and spectral ; sylph-like boats and their occupants glide in and out of the vision ; silently the shadows gather : a languorous feeling prevails, gently the full-orbed moon rises over Swarth Fell, the lake becomes illuminated with phosphorescent brilliancy, and the air odorous with the A Rush grown Bay, Ulleswater. EDMUND BOGG. perfume of nature. Boats glide on the bosom of the lake without apparent effort, and the huge hills and giant peaks seem eternally at rest. We hear the sound of voices on the Fells, softened by distance into melody ; lights twinkle from ancient home- steads, resting along the sides of the hills, almost seeming like a part of them. In one of these we take up our abode for the night. One great charm of the Fells to the spectator is the repose which pervades every object which the eye rests upon. Morning from our bedroom, we look on to the lake, which I have seen often burnished in a blaze of gold and silver, like some tropical sea, and have watched the waves sparkle and flash, pulse and throb, under Vale of the Low t her. 141 the effect of the moon, emitting brilliant rays, as if from some storied sea ; or as gradually the sun retires, the western hills are bathed in purple, crimson, and scarlet, as Ruskin would say, " I cannot call it colour, it was conflagration, the curtains of God's Tabernacle." A sombre hue of grey overspreads the lake, the glens deepening to purple, whilst the hill tops are still stencilled with rays of gold. An evening scene : we are gliding over the surface of the lake, smooth as a mill pond. The last steamer has departed to Pooley Bridge. We have engaged our boat for two days, and stocked it with provisions for that period. Our destination is a small island seven miles away, situated on the lake near the steep white rock of Stybarrow Crag. Now and again we can hear in the distance the rythmic splash of oars and the merry sounds of laughter, or, may be, a snatch of some sweet melody comes stealing and rippling above the surface of the waters. We take up the refrain, and the rocks and crags echo and re-echo it. Now the moun- tains rise out of the water sheer per- pendicular several hundred feet in height, and huge rocks, which have been hurled into the lake, now lay by the shores like The Reapers, Swarth Fell. stranded ships. The water in many places is so pure and transparent that we can almost, as one writer says, " imagine that our boat was suspended in an element as pure as air." Now we drift past a fairy little cove, a grassy bay in the hills ; a wood adorns one side and a sparkling little stream glides to the lake on the other ; hanging trees and shrubs cling to the rugged projections of the rock, and broad flakes of nodding fern overhang and add to the beauty of the little dell. In this recess a party of tourists, hidden from the world, have raised their tents, and the lines of smoke from their fires are curling upwards into the hills, and shadowy forms can be discerned flittering hither and thither. A bell can be heard tinkling in the direction of Lyulph's Tower, and a light faintly glimmers from the window. A few large fowls, s>g^^v%>t .j^;ii^«sg^iyc?'"»'' x^'A^ :x • ja: EDMUND BCGQ. 142 Wanderings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale, probably wild ducks, skim swiftly over the lake, causing that rushing sound of air by the swift motion of their wings. Gradually the stars creep out one by one, and ere we reach our island home not a sound but that caused by our own oars disturbs the tranquility of the lake and mountains surrounding. Mooring our boat, and removing the firewood and provisions, whilst two of us reared a rude tent the other made a blazing fire and prepared the evening meal. About eleven we turned in, with Stybarrow Crag, like some huge monster, ready to fall and crush our small isle into the lake. We were just on the point of slumber, for we were tired with our exertion of the day's enjoyment, when sounds of voices and the splash of oars aroused our attention : our fire had been des- cried from the Patterdale Hotel, and a boating party sailed down to ascertain the cause, but we could not prevail upon them to land, they rowed several times round the island, singing to the music of their oars the beautiful Canadian boat song, " Faintly as tolls the evening chime." It was nearly eleven, and the sweetness of the refrain, "Row, brothers, row," echoed among the rocks of Stybarrow. I shall never forget the sweet cadence of the song dying away in the distance as they returned to their hotel at the head of the lake. The moon rose above Place Fell in stately beauty, bringing into bold relief the A. G. BOWEN. Stybarrow Crag. jagged outlines of the mountains, and lit up the lake with a silvery brilliancy. The fir trees stood out dark and silent against the pale evening light. The chimes of a clock sounded distinctly over the waters. Early morning the lake and the mountains were clad in a winding sheet of white, which the sun gradually dissolved as it rose in majesty over the highest part of Birk Fell, cragged, seamed and fretted by ravine and overhanging rock. As we pass upward into Patterdale the little islets in the lake have a pleasing and refreshing effect against a background of sterile peaks, the Vale of the Lowthejr 143 base of which are finely clothed with woods to the water's edge, above which a heron comes lazily flapping — without which the picture would not have been complete. From Brother's Waters a rivulet twines through a vale of magic charm, past the grey homesteads, wearing an air of artistic seclusion, from whence we obtain delightful glimpses of loveliness. A dozen giant peaks overhang it and scowl on the little valley; Helvellyn rises majestically above Grisdale, half hidden by a mist, which creeps around its ridgy crest. Far away above us, on the verge of Place Fell, we can see a shepherd, and hear him calling the sheep together. It is the Sabbath, and the tinkling sounds of bells rise from Patterdale Church. Truly this is a land of beautiful mountains, vales, lakes and streams, where dense mist, deep shadow and sunlight, altern- ately flit, ever forming a variety of scenic charm, the most captivat- ing in nature. Lyulph Tower, a picturesque mansion, with walls battlemented and ivy-clad, stands a few hundred paces from the water ; near the centre, and on the north side of the lake, a beautiful beck winds through a deeply-wooded ravine ; trees of immense growth, mingling with wild flowers and waving fern, kissed by the spray, form exquisite scenes of loveliness. The crowning sight is Airey Force, a waterfall of Airey Force. some eighty feet, and thence the stream passes a wooden bridge to the lake, and from hence the scenery of Ulleswater is magnificent, approaching the sublimity of the Norwegian Fiords. It is along this shore of the lake that nature, with lavish hand, has scattered the wild flowers so abundantly, and the graceful bend of the lake, with the islands and the mountains in the middle distance and in the background, form such a beautiful picture, so exquisite in outline, colour and finish in every detail. It is this spot, where the Aira Beck joins the lake, that Wordsworth and 144 Wanderings on the Old Border^ Lakeland^ and Ribblesdale. his sister immortalised in prose and verse. Miss Wordsworth, speaking of the daffodils, says : " As we went along under the boughs of the trees we saw that there was a long belt of them along the shore, about the breadth of a country turnpike road. I never saw daffodils so beautiful. They grew among the mossy stones, about, and above them ; some rested their heads upon these stones, as on a pillow for weariness, and the rest tossed and reeled and danced, and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the lake. They looked so gay, ever glancing, ever changing. This wind blew directly over the lake to them. There was here and there a little knot, and a few stragglers higher up, but there were so few as not to disturb the simplicity, unity, and life, of that one busy highway. We rested again and again. The bays were stormy, and we heard the waves at different distances, and in the middle of the water, like the sea." The Daffodils. " I wandered, lonely as a cloud The waves beside them danced, but they That floats on high o'er vales and hills, Outdid the sparkling waves in glee, When all at once I saw a crowd, A poet could not be but gay A host of golden daffodils ; In such a jocund company ! Beside the lake, beneath the trees, I gazed — and gazed — but little thought Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. What wealth the show to me had brought. * * * * * * Continuous as the stars that shine, For oft when on my couch I lie And twinkle on the milky way, In vacant or in pensive mood, They stretched in never-ending line They flash upon that inward eye, Along the margin of a bay ; Which is the bliss of solitude ; Ten thousand saw I at a glance And then my heart with pleasure fills, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. And dances with the daffodils." ^ ^ ^ 1^ "3^ ^ Aira Force is the scene of a sad yet romantic legend. In the far-off centuries there dwelt, at the tower adjoining the Force, a beautiful lady named Emma, betrothed to a famed knight (Sir Eglamore), who had long been engaged in war in Eastern lands. His long absence had affected her health, and she was wont in the night-time to wander forth in her sleep by the bank of the torrent, dreaming of her lover. It was in this situation that the knight found her on his returning unexpectedly from the east. He was so struck with hei appearance that he watched her for some time plucking the twigs from the trees and casting them into the stream. Uncertain how to proceed, he at length touched her ; she suddenly awoke from her slumber, and, starting back affrighted, fell down the deep precipice into the water below. The knight leaped into the torrent to rescue her, and bore the inanimate form to the bank. There was a brief moment of consciousness ; she opened her eyes and recognised him, and expired in his arms. The heartbroken man built a cell near the Falls, where he dwelt in solitude, humbling the flesh in prayer and fasting for the repose of her soul. up Matterdak. $45 List, ye who pass by Lyulph's tower Jn plunged the knight ! When on firm gro'-nd At eve, how softly then The rescued maiden lay, Doth Aira Force, that torrent hoarse, Her eyes grew bright with blissful light, Speak from the woody glen. Confusion pas^ed away. Fit music for a solemn vale, She heard, ere to the throne of grace And holier seems the ground Her faithful spirit flew. To him who catches on the gale His voice — beheld his speaking face ; The spirit of a mournful tale And, dying, from his own enibrace, Embodied in the sound. She felt that he was true. Soul-Chattered was the knight, nor knew Wild stream of Aira, hold thy course. If Emma's ghost it were, Nor fear memorial lays, Or bodying shade, or if the maid Where clouds that spread in solemn shade Her very self stood there. Are edged with golden rays ! He touched ; what fol owed who shall tell? Dear art thou to the light of heaven, Ihe soft touch snapped the thread Though minister of sorrow ; Of slumber — shrieking, back she fell ; Sweet is thy voice at pensive even, The stream it whirled her down the dell And thou, in lovers' hearts forgiven, Along its foaming bed. Shalt take thy place with Yarrow. Such is the story connected with the wild stream of Aira, 'Tis indeed a beautiful spot : the overhanging trees blending with the rocks, the refreshing spray falling on trailing plant and creeper ; the deep shadow of the gorge ; the sunlight in the tree tops. From the high bank we note the rich green of the park, the deer basking in the sunshine, and the ivy-clad mansion in the background. Onward and upward, past Dockrey and Matterdale, and its little church with ivy-mantled tower, and bend to the west, over the moor, the source of many a stream, the array of mountain peak to the south and west being beautifully grand, then we drop down past Wanthwaite into the Vale of the Glendermakin, to where Threlkeld and its whitewashed, modest house of prayer, with ivied porch, rests peaceably under Blencathra's frowning sides. Threlkeld village is comprised chiefly of whitewashed cottages, with flaggy roofs, scattered irregularly along the base of the hill. The church is a simple, unpretentious structure ; the ivied porch and bell gable are its only pleasing objects. High over all rises stern Blencathra. The interior adornment of the church is of the barest description ; no chancel and no font, only a pedestal holding a metal plate, some eight inches by two deep. At the restoration of the church in 1777, the old font was cast out and the plate described substituted. The present church was built in 1776, ^260 being expended in the work, subscribed by the parishioners. The old church was roofed with thatch, and the seats, or, we might say, benches were rudely shaped from trees. In those days men and women sat on separate sides of the nave. The place has an ancient history. The name Threlkret, or Threlkeld, is said to have come from a Viking named Thorgell, who, in the tenth century, conquered L 146 Wanderings o?i the Old Border^ Lakeland, arid Ribhlesdale. the Cimbric people and settled in this fair valley. Centuries before this time, as early ^s 553, St. Kentygern reared the cross at this place and preached to the inhabitants. This cross, we are told, stood for centuries near the " Priest's Acre." The mother of St. Kentygern was a daughter of a King of Cambria, and for her refusal to marry a neighbouring chief, was expelled from home to a life of drudgery in the fields, where she was held in ambush by her former lover, and destroyed of her virtue. Her shame and sorrow being discovered, the punishment of death was pronounced, and her execution was to be carried out in the following manner : bound to a chariot, St. Kentygern raising the Cross under Blencathra. f. dean. she was doomed to be hurled from the top of the Traprain Law, the Dun Pelder of bygone days. By some miraculous cause she escaped her doom, so they brought her to the sea-shore and placed her in a coracle, without any oar to guide, and pushed it out to sea. Yet, though the tide ran seawards, she again escaped death, for in the early morning she was cast on the coast of the Firth of Forth. Here Thenew, for that was her name, gave birth to a boy. A hermit, who lived near, had compassion, gave the mother and child shelter, and named the latter Cyentgen, or Kentygern, meaning : " Head or chief of the Lord." For many years the boy remained with Threlkeld. 1 47 his foster-father, gaining in knowledge and piety day by day. At length he journeyed to Cathures, now Glasgow, where for years he was a faithful missionary, until at length one came to the throne, a pagan, who knew not God, and, after undergoing many persecutions during this man's reign, he journeyed southward into Wales, by way of Carleolum (Carlisle), thence for several miles down the vale country ; but on learning that most of the people in the mountains were still pagans, he turned west into the lakes, and preached and baptized at Thanet Well — the name of his mother, and so called from his visit. At Threlkeld he again halted, and set up the cross, and numbers gathered round him to hear this Gospel of Christ. Many there would be who had never heard of the doctrine of redemption, for this was nearly half a century before the Roman missionary landed on the coast of Kent. St. Kentygern was not instructed of Rome, for the new light had spread south by way of Ireland and lona. Here was a man of Cymbria publishing the glad tidings of the Cross in the language of the natives, and, we are told, they gathered from the hills and vales, from the Derwent, from the Greta, from the shores of Thirlmere, from deep mountain passes of Skiddaw and Honister, chieftains and their followers, and the priesthood from that hoary circle still to be seen standing sentry over the Derwent and St. John Vale. The real nature of their religion is still unknown. Nearly all we can learn is from a close study of those silent stones, grey with the lapse of ages. Thierry says : — **When the shouts of the multitude, who stood in a dense circle around the spot, the frenzied chants of the Druids, and the despairing shrieks of the dying victims, were drowned in the sullen roar of the thunder, then must the fearful nature of their creed have stood forth in all its horrors. Yet, with all this, there was a sort of grandeur in the seclusion and simplicity of their worship. All was not blood ; and though they bowed down to the unknown God, in an erring and mistaken spirit, yet must their conception of him have been fine. The God of nature and the wilderness, the God of the tempest and the storm, was a nobler idea than the immortalized humanities of Greek and Roman mythology. The choice of the situations for these sacred monuments were amidst the melancholy waste, or buried deep in the recesses of some vast forest, where the wide-spreading branches of their sacred tree (the oak) casts its deep shadows over the consecrated spot, with no canopy save the heavens, shows the dark and gloomy spirit of their faith. They worshipped the God of the thunder-storm, not the God of peace ; and it was amidst the thunder-storm that their horrid rites appeared most horrid. When illuminated by the lurid glare of the lightning, the gigantic osier figure, filled with human beings, sank into the flames." The sun-worshippers would doubtless be antagonistic to the apostle and his story. What a strange assembly this would be : the Druidic priests, chieftains, and their warriors, attired in skins of wild beasts, with shield and spear, L3 14S Waiidei'ings on the Old Border, Lakeland, and Ribblesdale. children of the original Cymri, whose empire, like their religion and superstition, was at this period gradually being swept away. The almost superhuman efforts of Arthur and his dauntless knights had been inadequate to stem and roll back the advancing wave of invading Saxon and Northman. It was at this age of internal warfare, immortalized by brilliant feats of arms and barbaric splendour of Arthur's court, when the inhabitants of the hill country, still shackled with Pagan worship, that St. Kentygern made his advent into the vale of the Derwent, and planted the cross, symbol of Christianity. Hither also, in after years, came St. Herbert, of Derwentwater, and other good men, to preach in the rude church which arose after St. Kentygern's visit. At the east end of the churchyard there is a granite pillar, erected to the memory of the celebrated hunters who have chased Master Reynard across Blencathra's Cliffs. " John Crozier's Tally Ho ! The hunt is up, the hunt is up ; Auld Tolly's on the drag ; Hark to him, beauties, get away, He's gone for Skiddaw Crag. Chorus. Rise fra ye'r beds, ye sleepy heads, If ye wad pleasure knaw ! Ye'r hearts 'twill cheer, if ye but hear John Crozier's Tally Ho ! Hurrah ! hurrah ! he's stown away, Through forest wild he's gean ; Sweet music tell, mang t' heather dell, What track sly Reynard's tean. Chorus. To Carrick Fell, to Carrick Fell, His covert theer '11 fail ; Unlucky day, he cannot stay Blancathra's heights to scale. Chorus. Ower Lonscale Fell, by Skiddaw Man, An' doon by Millbeck Ghyll ; To t'Dod he's gone, his reace is run ; Hark ! Tally Ho ! a kill ! " Many are the stories told anent the chase. We were most forcibly reminded of this when passing the village alehouse on the night of a hunt. Sounds of revelry and hunting song were heard issuing from the deep throats of the thirsty crew. On entering, we saw the head of Reynard, killed that day, suspended from the ceiling, and as the revellers hiccoughed out the strains of John Peal each glass was hob-a- nobbed against Master Reynard's nose. Threlkeld. 1 49 The inscription on the stone in the churchyard reads : — A few friends have united to raise this stone in loving memory of the undernamed, who in their generation were noted veterans of the chase, and all of whom lie buried in this churchyard. Daniel Walker, of Threlkeld^ died February 8th, 1849, aged 82. Henry Gill, died January 28th, 1850, aged 61. Ben Graves, died May 26th, 1856, aged 75. Wilson Nicholson, died January 15th, 1864, aged 50. James Bainbridge, died September 1st. 1866, aged 82. Mark Fisher, died December 1 6th, 1867, aged 81. Clement Akitt, died May 12th, 1868, aged 66. Isaac Todhunter, of Threlkeld, died November 17th, 1868, aged 59. Thomas Morley, died March 3rd, 1871, aged 69, John Cockbain, died May 5th, 1873, aged 89. Joshua Fearon, died June 19th, 1874, aged 86. John Hodgson, died September 30th, 1874, aged 91. Joseph Wilkinson, died December 15th. 1875. aged 87. Joseph Brownrigg, died April 30th, 1877, aged 67. Thomas Newton, died February 14th, 1879, agt-d 84. John Porter, died December 31st, 1852, aged 35. Also James Dixon, of Burns, died September 21st, 1870, aged 55, and was interred at Patterdale. Thomas Cockbain, died April 7th, 186 1, aged 58. Thomas Hodgson, died July 8th, 1862, aged 73. Thomas Hutchinson, died October 22nd, 1882, aged 73. Edward Bainbridge, died July 23rd, 1883, aged 7[. Thomas Cockbain, died July 13th, 1884, aged 67. Thomas Edmondson, died November 29th, 1883, aged 59. Robert HoUiday, died December 24th, 1850, aged 82. William Greenhow, died July 9th, 1884, sged 77. Joseph Harper, died May 30th, 1854, aged 74. William Abbott, ^ied February 17th, 1840, aged 43. John Bill, died December 14th, 1875, aged 98. Joseph Mayson, died 1871, age