[Transcribers note: Authors 'R. N and J. N. ' are Robert Naylor and John Naylor. ]

[Illustration: Mr. Robert Naylor FROM A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN DURING HISCANDIDATURE FOR THE REPRESENTATION OF THE CARNAVON BOROUGHS 1906]

FROM JOHN O' GROAT'S TO LAND'S END

OR 1372 MILES ON FOOT

A BOOK OF DAYS AND CHRONICLE OF ADVENTURES BY TWO PEDESTRIANS ON TOUR

LONDON

CAXTON PUBLISHING COMPANY, LIMITED

CLUN HOUSE, SURREY STREET, W. C. 

1916

FOREWORD

 When Time, who steals our hours away. Shall steal our pleasures too; The memory of the past shall stay And half our joys renew. 

As I grow older my thoughts often revert to the past, and like the oldPersian poet, Khosros, when he walked by the churchyard and thought howmany of his friends were numbered with the dead, I am often tempted toexclaim: "The friends of my youth! where are they?" but there is onlythe mocking echo to answer, as if from a far-distant land, "Where arethey?"

"One generation passeth away; and another generation cometh, " andenormous changes have taken place in this country during the pastseventy years, which one can only realise by looking back and comparingthe past with the present. 

The railways then were gradually replacing the stage-coaches, of whichthe people then living had many stories to tell, and the roads whichformerly had mostly been paved with cobble or other stones were beingmacadamised; the brooks which ran across the surface of the roads werebeing covered with bridges; toll-gates still barred the highways, andstories of highway robbers were still largely in circulation, thoseabout Dick Turpin, whose wonderful mare "Black Bess" could jump over theturnpike gates, being the most prominent, while Robin Hood and LittleJohn still retained a place in the minds of the people as former heroesof the roads and forests. 

Primitive methods were still being employed in agriculture. Crops werecut with scythe and sickle, while old scythe-blades fastened at one endof a wooden bench did duty to cut turnips in slices to feed the cattle, and farm work generally was largely done by hand. 

At harvest time the farmers depended on the services of large numbers ofmen who came over from Ireland by boat, landing at Liverpool, whencethey walked across the country in gangs of twenty or more, their firststage being Warrington, where they stayed a night at Friar's Green, atthat time the Irish quarter of the town. Some of them walked as far asLincolnshire, a great corn-growing county, many of them preferring towalk bare-footed, with their shoes slung across their shoulders. Goodand steady walkers they were too, with a military step and afour-mile-per-hour record. 

The village churches were mostly of the same form in structure andservice as at the conclusion of the Civil War. The old oak pews werestill in use, as were the galleries and the old "three-decker" pulpits, with sounding-boards overhead. The parish clerk occupied the lower deckand gave out the hymns therefrom, as well as other notices of acharacter not now announced in church. The minister read the lessons andprayers, in a white surplice, from the second deck, and then, while ahymn was being sung, he retired to the vestry, from which he againemerged, attired in a black gown, to preach the sermon from the upperdeck. 

The church choir was composed of both sexes, but not surpliced, and, ifthere was no organ, bassoons, violins, and other instruments of musicsupported the singers. 

The churches generally were well filled with worshippers, for it waswithin a measurable distance from the time when all parishioners werecompelled to attend church. The names of the farms or owners appeared onthe pew doors, while inferior seats, called free seats, were reservedfor the poor. Pews could be bought and sold, and often changed hands;but the squire had a large pew railed on from the rest, and raised alittle higher than the others, which enabled him to see if all histenants were in their appointed places. 

The village inns were generally under the shadow of the church steeple, and, like the churches, were well attended, reminding one of DanielDefoe, the clever author of that wonderful book _Robinson Crusoe_, forhe wrote:

 Wherever God erects a house of prayer, The Devil always builds a chapel there; And 'twill be found upon examination, The Devil has the largest congregation. 

The church services were held morning and afternoon, evening servicebeing then almost unknown in country places; and between the servicesthe churchwardens and other officials of the church often adjourned tothe inn to hear the news and to smoke tobacco in long clay pipes namedafter them "churchwarden pipes"; many of the company who came from longdistances remained eating and drinking until the time came for afternoonservice, generally held at three o'clock. 

The landlords of the inns were men of light and leading, and werespecially selected by the magistrates for the difficult and responsiblepositions they had to fill; and as many of them had acted as stewardsor butlers--at the great houses of the neighbourhood, and perhaps hadmarried the cook or the housekeeper, and as each inn was required by lawto provide at least one spare bedroom, travellers could rely upon beingcomfortably housed and well victualled, for each landlord brewed his ownbeer and tried to vie with his rival as to which should brew the best. 

Education was becoming more appreciated by the poorer people, althoughfew of them could even write their own names; but when their childrencould do so, they thought them wonderfully clever, and educatedsufficiently to carry them through life. Many of them were taken awayfrom school and sent to work when only ten or eleven years of age!

Books were both scarce and dear, the family Bible being, of course, theprincipal one. Scarcely a home throughout the land but possessed one ofthese family heirlooms, on whose fly-leaf were recorded the births anddeaths of the family sometimes for several successive generations, as itwas no uncommon occurrence for occupiers of houses to be the descendantsof people of the same name who had lived in them for hundreds of years, and that fact accounted for traditions being handed down from onegeneration to another. 

Where there was a village library, the books were chiefly of a religiouscharacter; but books of travel and adventure, both by land and sea, werealso much in evidence, and _Robinson Crusoe, Captain Cook's ThreeVoyages round the World_, and the _Adventures of Mungo Park in Africa_were often read by young people. The story of Dick Whittington wasanother ideal, and one could well understand the village boys who livednear the great road routes, when they saw the well-appointed coachespassing on their way up to London, being filled with a desire to seethat great city, whose streets the immortal Dick had pictured to himselfas being paved with gold, and to wish to emulate his wanderings, andespecially when there was a possibility of becoming the lord mayor. 

The bulk of the travelling in the country was done on foot or horseback, as the light-wheeled vehicles so common in later times had not yet comeinto vogue. The roads were still far from safe, and many tragedies wereenacted in lonely places, and in cases of murder the culprit, whencaught, was often hanged or gibbeted near the spot where the crime wascommitted, and many gallows trees were still to be seen on the sides ofthe highways on which murderers had met with their well-deserved fate. No smart service of police existed; the parish constables were oftenfarmers or men engaged in other occupations, and as telegraphy waspractically unknown, the offenders often escaped. 

The Duke of Wellington and many of his heroes were still living, andthe tales of fathers and grandfathers were chiefly of a warlike nature;many of them related to the Peninsula War and Waterloo, as well asTrafalgar, and boys were thus inspired with a warlike and adventurousspirit and a desire to see the wonders beyond the seas. 

It was in conditions such as these that the writer first lived and movedand had his being, and his early aspirations were to walk to London, andto go to sea; but it was many years before his boyish aspirations wererealised. They came at length, however, but not exactly in the form hehad anticipated, for in 1862 he sailed from Liverpool to London, and in1870 he took the opportunity of walking back from London to Lancashirein company with his brother. We walked by a circuitous route, commencingin an easterly direction, and after being on the road for a fortnight, or twelve walking days, as we did not walk on Sundays, we covered thedistance of 306 miles at an average of twenty-five miles per day. 

We had many adventures, pleasant and otherwise, on that journey, but onthe whole we were so delighted with our walk that, when, in thefollowing year, the question arose. "Where shall we walk this year?" weunanimously decided to walk from John o' Groat's to Land's End, or, asmy brother described it, "from the top of the map to the bottom. "

It was a big undertaking, especially as we had resolved not to journeyby the shortest route, but to walk from one great object of interest toanother, and to see and learn as much as possible of the country wepassed through on our way. We were to walk the whole of the distancebetween the north-eastern extremity of Scotland and the south-westernextremity of England, and not to cross a ferry or accept or take a ridein any kind of conveyance whatever. We were also to abstain from allintoxicating drink, not to smoke cigars or tobacco, and to walk so thatat the end of the journey we should have maintained an average oftwenty-five miles per day, except Sunday, on which day we were to attendtwo religious services, as followers of and believers in Sir MatthewHale's Golden Maxim:

 A Sabbath well spent brings a week of content And Health for the toils of to-morrow; But a Sabbath profaned, WHATE'ER MAY BE GAINED. Is a certain forerunner of Sorrow. 

With the experience gained in our walk the previous year, we decided toreduce our equipment to the lowest possible limit, as every ounce had tobe carried personally, and it became a question not of how much luggagewe should take, but of how little; even maps were voted off asencumbrances, and in place of these we resolved to rely upon our ownjudgment, and the result of local inquiries, as we travelled from onegreat object of interest to another, but as these were often widelyapart, as might be supposed, our route developed into one of a somewhathaphazard and zigzag character, and very far from the straight line. 

We each purchased a strong, black leather handbag, which could either becarried by hand or suspended over the shoulder at the end of a stick, and in these we packed our personal and general luggage; in addition wecarried a set of overalls, including leggings, and armed ourselves withstout oaken sticks, or cudgels, specially selected by our local fencingmaster. They were heavily ferruled by the village blacksmith, for, although we were men of peace, we thought it advisable to provideagainst what were known as single-stick encounters, which were then byno means uncommon, and as curved handles would have been unsuitable inthe event of our having to use them either for defensive or offensivepurposes, ours were selected with naturally formed knobs at the upperend. 

Then there were our boots, which of course were a matter of the firstimportance, as they had to stand the strain and wear and tear of a longjourney, and must be easy fitting and comfortable, with thick soles toprotect our feet from the loose stones which were so plentiful on theroads, and made so that they could be laced tightly to keep out thewater either when raining or when lying in pools on the roads, for therewere no steam-rollers on the roads in those days. 

In buying our boots we did not both adopt the same plan. I made aspecial journey to Manchester, and bought the strongest and mostexpensive I could find there; while my brother gave his order to an oldcobbler, a particular friend of his, and a man of great experience, whoknew when he had hold of a good piece of leather, and to whom he hadexplained his requirements. These boots were not nearly so smart lookingas mine and did not cost as much money, but when I went with him for theboots, and heard the old gentleman say that he had fastened a piece ofleather on his last so as to provide a corresponding hole inside theboot to receive the ball of the foot, I knew that my brother would havemore room for his feet to expand in his boots than I had in mine. Wewere often asked afterwards, by people who did not walk much, how manypairs of boots we had worn out during our long journey, and when wereplied only one each, they seemed rather incredulous until we explainedthat it was the soles that wore out first, but I had to confess that myboots were being soled the second time when my brother's were only beingsoled the first time, and that I wore three soles out against his two. Of course both pairs of boots were quite done at the conclusion of ourwalk. 

Changes of clothing we were obliged to have sent on to us to somerailway station, to be afterwards arranged, and soiled clothes were tobe returned in the same box. This seemed a very simple arrangement, butit did not work satisfactorily, as railways were few and there was noparcel-post in those days, and then we were always so far from our basethat we were obliged to fix ourselves to call at places we did notparticularly want to see and to miss others that we would much ratherhave visited. Another objection was that we nearly always arrived atthese stations at inconvenient times for changing suits of clothes, andas we were obliged to do this quickly, as we had no time to make a longstay, we had to resort to some amusing devices. 

We ought to have begun our journey much earlier in the year. One thingafter another, however, prevented us making a start, and it was notuntil the close of some festivities on the evening of September 6th, 1871, that we were able to bid farewell to "Home, sweet home" and tojourney through what was to us an unknown country, and without anydefinite idea of the distance we were about to travel or the length oftime we should be away. 

HOW WE GOT TO JOHN O' GROAT'S

 Sept. 7. Warrington to Glasgow by train--Arrived too late to catch the boat on the Caledonian Canal for Iverness--Trained to Aberdeen. 

 Sept. 8. A day in the "Granite City"--Boarded the s. S. _St. Magnus_ intending to land at Wick--Decided to remain on board. 

 Sept. 9. Landed for a short time at Kirkwall in the Orkney Islands--During the night encountered a storm in the North Sea. 

 Sept. 10. _(Sunday)_. Arrived at Lerwick in the Shetland Islands at 2 a. M. 

 Sept. 11. Visited Bressay Island and the Holm of Noss--Returned to _St. Magnus_ at night. 

 Sept. 12. Landed again at Kirkwall--Explored Cathedral--Walked across the Mainland of the Orkneys to Stromness, visiting the underground house at Maeshowe and the Standing Stones at Stenness on our way. 

 Sept. 13. Visited the Quarries where Hugh Miller made his wonderful geological researches--Explored coast scenery, including the Black Craig. 

 Sept. 14. Crossed the Pentland Firth in a sloop--Unfavourable wind prevented us sailing past the Old Man of Hoy, so went by way of Lang Hope and Scrabster Roads, passing Dunnet Head on our way to Thurso, where we landed and stopped for the night. 

 Sept. 15. Travelled six miles by the Wick coach and walked the remaining fifteen miles to John o' Groat's--Lodged at the "Huna Inn. "

 Sept. 16. Gathered some wonderful shells on the beach and explored coast scenery at Duncansbay. 

 Sept. 17. _(Sunday)_. Visited a distant kirk with the landlord and his wife and listened to a wonderful sermon. 

OUR ROUTE FROM JOHN O' GROAT'S TO LAND'S END

¶ Indicates the day's journey. ¶¶ Indicates where Sunday was spent. 

 FIRST WEEK'S JOURNEY--Sept. 18 to 24. 

 "Huna Inn"--Canisbay--Bucholie Castle--Keiss--Girnigoe--Sinclair--Noss Head--Wick--or ¶ Wick Harbour--Mid Clyth--Lybster--Dunbeath ¶ Berriedale--Braemore--Maidens Paps Mountain--Lord Galloway's Hunting-box--Ord of Caithness--Helmsdale ¶ Loth--Brora--Dunrobin Castle--Golspie ¶ The Mound--Loch Buidhee--Bonar Bridge--Dornoch Firth--Half-way House [Aultnamain Inn] ¶ Novar--Cromarty Firth--Dingwall--Muir of Ord--Beauly--Bogroy Inn--Inverness ¶¶ pp. 41-76

 SECOND WEEK'S JOURNEY--Sept. 25 to Oct. 1. 

 Tomnahurich--Loch Ness--Caledonian Canal--Drumnadrochit ¶ Urquhart Castle--Invermoriston--Glenmoriston--Fort Augustus--Invergarry ¶ Glengarry--Well of the Heads--Loggan Bridge--Loch Lochy--Spean Bridge--Fort William ¶ Inverlochy Castle--Ben Nevis--Fort William ¶ Loch Linnhe--Loch Leven--Devil's Stair--Pass of Glencoe--Clachaig Inn ¶ Glencoe Village--Ballachulish--Kingshouse--Inveroran--Loch Tulla--Bridge of Orchy--Glen Orchy ¶ Dalmally ¶¶ pp. 77-111

 THIRD WEEK'S JOURNEY--Oct. 2 to Oct. 8. 

 Loch Awe--Cruachan Mountain--Glen Aray--Inverary Castle--Inverary--Loch Fyne--Cairndow Inn ¶ Glen Kinglas--Loch Restil--Rest and be Thankful--Glen Croe--Ben Arthur--Loch Long--Arrochar--Tarbet--Loch Lomond--Luss--Helensburgh ¶ The Clyde--Dumbarton--Renton--Alexandria--Balloch--Kilmaronock--Drymen ¶ Buchlyvie--Kippen--Gargunnock--Windings of the Forth--Stirling ¶ Wallace Monument--Cambuskenneth--St. Ninians--Bannockburn--Carron--Falkirk ¶ Laurieston--Polmont--Linlithgow--Edinburgh ¶¶ pp. 112-157

 FOURTH WEEK'S JOURNEY--Oct. 9 to Oct. 15. 

 Craigmillar--Rosslyn--Glencorse--Penicuik--Edleston--Cringletie--Peebles ¶ River Tweed--Horsburgh--Innerleithen--Traquair--Elibank Castle--Galashiels--Abbotsford--Melrose--Lilliesleaf ¶ Teviot Dale--Hassendean--Minto--Hawick--Goldielands Tower--Branxholm Tower--Teviothead--Caerlanrig--Mosspaul Inn--Langholm--Gilnockie Tower--Canonbie Colliery ¶ River Esk--"Cross Keys Inn"--Scotch Dyke--Longtown ¶ Solway Moss--River Sark--Springfield--Gretna Green--Todhills--Kingstown--Carlisle--Wigton--Aspatria ¶ Maryport--Cockermouth--Bassenthwaite Lake--Portinscale--Keswick ¶¶ pp. 158-232

 FIFTH WEEK'S JOURNEY--Oct 16 to Oct. 22. 

 Falls of Lodore--Derwentwater--Bowder Stone--Borrowdale--Green Nip--Wythburn--Grasmere ¶ Rydal--Ambleside--Windermere--Hawkshead--Coniston--Ulverston ¶ Dalton-in-Furness--Furness Abbey--Barrow Monument--Haverthwaite ¶ Newby Bridge--Cartmel Fell--Kendal ¶ Kirkby Lonsdale--Devil's Bridge--Ingleton--Giggleswick--Settle--Malham ¶ Malham Cove--Gordale Scar--Kilnsey--River Wharfe--Grassington--Greenhow--Pateley Bridge ¶¶ pp. 233-277

 SIXTH WEEK'S JOURNEY--Oct. 23 to Oct. 29. 

 Brimham Rocks--Fountains Abbey--Ripon--Boroughbridge--Devil's Arrows--Aldeborough ¶ Marston Moor--River Ouse--York ¶ Tadcaster--Towton Field--Sherburn-in-Elmet--River Aire--Ferrybridge--Pontefract ¶ Robin Hood's Well--Doncaster ¶ Conisborough--Rotherham ¶ Attercliffe Common--Sheffield--Norton--Hathersage--Little John's Grave--Castleton ¶¶ pp. 278-339

 SEVENTH WEEK'S JOURNEY--Oct. 30 to Nov. 5. 

 Castleton--Tideswell--Miller's Dale--Flagg Moor--Newhaven--Tissington--Ashbourne ¶ River Dove--Mayfield--Ellastone--Alton Towers--Uttoxeter--Bagot's Wood--Needwood Forest--Abbots Bromley--Handsacre ¶ Lichfield--Tamworth--Atherstone--Watling Street--Nuneaton ¶ Watling Street--High Cross--Lutterworth--River Swift--Fosse Way--Brinklow--Coventry ¶ Kenilworth--Leamington--Stoneleigh Abbey--Warwick--Stratford-on-Avon--Charlecote Park--Kineton--Edge Hill ¶ Banbury--Woodstock--Oxford ¶¶ pp. 340-450

 EIGHTH WEEK'S JOURNEY--Nov. 6 to Nov. 12. 

 Oxford--Sunningwell--Abingdon--Vale of White Horse--Wantage--Icknield Way--Segsbury Camp--West Shefford--Hungerford ¶ Marlborough Downs--Miston--Salisbury Plain--Stonehenge--Amesbury--Old Sarum--Salisbury ¶ Wilton--Compton Chamberlain--Shaftesbury--Blackmoor Vale--Sturminster ¶ Blackmoor Vale--Cerne Abbas--Charminster--Dorchester--Bridport ¶ The Chesil Bank--Chideoak--Charmouth--Lyme Regis--Axminster--Honiton--Exeter ¶ Exminster--Star Cross--Dawlish--Teignmouth--Torquay ¶¶ pp. 451-545

 NINTH WEEK'S JOURNEY--Nov. 13 to Nov. 18. 

 Torbay--Cockington--Compton Castle--Marldon--Berry Pomeroy--River Dart--Totnes--Sharpham--Dittisham--Dartmouth--Totnes ¶ Dartmoor--River Erme--Ivybridge--Plymouth ¶ Devonport--St. Budeaux--Tamerton Foliot--Buckland Abbey--Walkhampton--Merridale--River Tavy--Tavistock--Hingston Downs--Callington--St. Ive--Liskeard ¶ St. Neot--Restormel Castle--Lostwithiel--River Fowey--St. Blazey--St. Austell--Truro ¶ Perranarworthal--Penryn--Helston--The Lizard--St. Breage--Perran Downs--Marazion--St. Michael's Mount--Penzance ¶ Newlyn--St. Paul--Mousehole--St. Buryan--Treryn--Logan Rock--St. Levan--Tol-Peden-Penwith--Sennen--Land's End--Penzance ¶¶ pp. 546-652

 HOMEWARD BOUND--Nov. 20 and 21 pp. 653-658

FROM JOHN O' GROAT'S TO LAND'S END

HOW WE GOT TO JOHN O' GROAT'S

_Thursday, September 7th. _

It was one o'clock in the morning when we started on the three-mile walkto Warrington, where we were to join the 2. 18 a. M. Train for Glasgow, and it was nearly ten o'clock when we reached that town, the train beingone hour and twenty minutes late. This delay caused us to be too latefor the steamboat by which we intended to continue our journey furthernorth, and we were greatly disappointed in having thus early in ourjourney to abandon the pleasant and interesting sail down the RiverClyde and on through the Caledonian Canal. We were, therefore, compelledto alter our route, so we adjourned to the Victoria Temperance Hotel forbreakfast, where we were advised to travel to Aberdeen by train, andthence by steamboat to Wick, the nearest available point to John o'Groat's. 

We had just time to inspect Sir Walter Scott's monument that adorned theSquare at Glasgow, and then we left by the 12. 35 train for Aberdeen. Itwas a long journey, and it was half-past eight o'clock at night beforewe reached our destination, but the weariness of travelling had beenwhiled away by pleasant company and delightful scenery. 

We had travelled continuously for about 360 miles, and we were bothsleepy and tired as we entered Forsyth's Hotel to stay the night. 

_Friday, September 8th. _

After a good night's rest, followed by a good breakfast, we went out toinquire the time our boat would leave, and, finding it was not due awayuntil evening, we returned to the hotel and refreshed ourselves with abath, and then went for a walk to see the town of Aberdeen, which ismostly built of the famous Aberdeen granite. The citizens were quiteproud of their Union Street, the main thoroughfare, as well they mightbe, for though at first sight we thought it had rather a sombreappearance, yet when the sky cleared and the sun shone out on the goldenletters that adorned the buildings we altered our opinion, for then wesaw the "Granite City" at its best. 

We spent the time rambling along the beach, and, as pleasure seekersgenerally do, passed the day comfortably, looking at anything andeverything that came in our way. By no means sea-faring men, havingmainly been accustomed to village life, we had some misgivings when weboarded the s. S. _St. Magnus_ at eight o'clock in the evening, and oursensations during the night were such as are common to what the sailorscall "land-lubbers. " We were fortunate, however, in forming theacquaintance of a lively young Scot, who was also bound for Wick, andwho cheered us during the night by giving us copious selections fromScotland's favourite bard, of whom he was greatly enamoured. We heardmore of "Rabbie Burns" that night than we had ever heard before, for ourfriend seemed able to recite his poetry by the yard and to sing some ofit also, and he kept us awake by occasionally asking us to join in thechoruses. Some of the sentiments of Burns expressed ideals that seem along time in being realised, and one of his favourite quotations, repeated several times by our friend, dwells in our memory after manyyears:

 For a' that an' a' that It's coming, yet, for a' that, That man to man the war-ld o'er Shall brithers be for a' that. 

During the night, as the _St. Magnus_ ploughed her way through thefoaming billows, we noticed long, shining streaks on the surface of thewater, varying in colour from a fiery red to a silvery white, the effectof which, was quite beautiful. Our friend informed us these were causedby the stampede of the shoals of herrings through which we were thenpassing. 

The herring fishery season was now on, and, though we could notdistinguish either the fishermen or their boats when we passed near oneof their fishing-grounds, we could see the lights they carried dottedall over the sea, and we were apprehensive lest we should collide withsome of them, but the course of the _St. Magnus_ had evidently beenknown and provided for by the fishermen. 

We had a long talk with our friend about our journey north, and, as heknew the country well, he was able to give us some useful informationand advice. He told us that if we left the boat at Wick and walked toJohn o' Groat's from there, we should have to walk the same way back, asthere was only the one road, and if we wished to avoid going over thesame ground twice, he would advise us to remain on the _St. Magnus_until she reached her destination, Lerwick, in the Shetland Islands, andthe cost by the boat would be very little more than to Wick. She wouldonly stay a short time at Lerwick, and then we could return in her toKirkwall, in the Orkney Islands. From that place we could walk acrossthe Mainland to Stromness, where we should find a small steamboat whichconveyed mails and passengers across the Pentland Firth to Thurso in thenorth of Scotland, from which point John o' Groat's could easily bereached, and, besides, we might never again have such a favourableopportunity of seeing the fine rock scenery of those northern islands. 

[Illustration: WICK HARBOUR. From a photograph taken in 1867. ]

We were delighted with his suggestion, and wrote a hurried letter homeadvising our people there of this addition to our journey, and ourfriend volunteered to post the letter for us at Wick. It was about sixo'clock in the morning when we neared that important fishery town andanchored in the harbour, where we had to stay an hour or two to load andunload cargo. Our friend the Scot had to leave us here, but we could notallow him to depart without some kind of ceremony or other, and as thesmall boat came in sight that was to carry him ashore, we decided tosing a verse or two of "Auld Lang Syne" from his favourite poet Burns;but my brother could not understand some of the words in one of theverses, so he altered and anglicised them slightly:

 An' here's a haund, my trusty friend, An' gie's a haund o' thine; We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet, For the sake o' auld lang syne. 

Some of the other passengers joined in the singing, but we neverrealised the full force of this verse until we heard it sung in itsoriginal form by a party of Scots, who, when they came to thisparticular verse, suited the action to the word by suddenly taking holdof each other's hands, thereby forming a cross, and meanwhile beatingtime to the music. Whether the cross so formed had any religioussignificance or not, we did not know. 

Our friend was a finely built and intelligent young man, and it was withfeelings of great regret that we bade him farewell and watched hisdeparture over the great waves, with the rather mournful presentimentthat we were being parted from him for ever!

_Saturday, September 9th. _

There were signs of a change in the weather as we left Wick, and the_St. Magnus_ rolled considerably; but occasionally we had a good view ofthe precipitous rocks that lined the coast, many of them having beenchristened by the sailors after the objects they represented, as seenfrom the sea. The most prominent of these was a double-headed peak inCaithness, which formed a remarkably perfect resemblance to the breastsof a female giant with nipples complete, and this they had named the"Maiden's Paps. " Then there was the "Old Man of Hoy, " and other rocksthat stood near the entrance to that terrible torrent of the sea, thePentland Firth; but, owing to the rolling of our ship, we were not in afit state either of mind or body to take much interest in them, and wewere very glad when we reached the shelter of the Orkney Islands andentered the fine harbour of Kirkwall. Here we had to stay for a shorttime, so we went ashore and obtained a substantial lunch at theTemperance Hotel near the old cathedral, wrote a few letters, and at 3p. M. Rejoined the _St. Magnus_. 

The sea had been quite rough enough previously, but it soon becameevident that it had been smooth compared with what followed, and duringthe coming night we wished many times that our feet were once more on_terra firma_. The rain descended, the wind increased in violence, andthe waves rolled high and broke over the ship, and we were no longerallowed to occupy our favourite position on the upper deck, but had todescend a stage lower. We were saturated with water from head to foot inspite of our overalls, and we were also very sick, and, to add to ourmisery, we could hear, above the noise of the wind and waves, thefearful groaning of some poor woman who, a sailor told us, had beensuddenly taken ill, and it was doubtful if she could recover. He carrieda fish in his hand which he had caught as it was washed on deck, and heinvited us to come and see the place where he had to sleep. A dismalplace it was too, flooded with water, and not a dry thing for him to puton. We could not help feeling sorry that these sailors had suchhardships to undergo; but he seemed to take it as a matter of course, and appeared to be more interested in the fish he carried than in thestorm that was then raging. We were obliged to keep on the move toprevent our taking cold, and we realised that we were in a dark, dismal, and dangerous position, and thought of the words of awell-known song and how appropriate they were to that occasion:

 "O Pilot! 'tis a fearful night, There's danger on the deep; I'll come and pace the deck with thee, I do not dare to sleep. " "Go down!" the Pilot cried, "go down! This is no place for thee; Fear not! but trust in Providence, Wherever thou may'st be. "

The storm continued for hours, and, as it gradually abated, our feelingsbecame calmer, our fears subsided, and we again ventured on the upperdeck. The night had been very dark hitherto, but we could now see theoccasional glimmering of a light a long distance ahead, which proved tobe that of a lighthouse, and presently we could distinguish the boldoutlines of the Shetland Islands. 

As we entered Bressay Sound, however, a beautiful transformation scenesuddenly appeared, for the clouds vanished as if by magic, and the lastquarter of the moon, surrounded by a host of stars, shone outbrilliantly in the clear sky. It was a glorious sight, for we had neverseen these heavenly bodies in such a clear atmosphere before, and it washard to realise that they were so far away from us. We could appreciatethe feelings of a little boy of our acquaintance, who, when carriedoutside the house one fine night by his father to see the moon, exclaimed in an ecstasy of delight: "Oh, reach it, daddy!--reach it!"and it certainly looked as if we could have reached it then, so verynear did it appear to us. 

It was two o'clock on Sunday morning, September 10th, when we reachedLerwick, the most northerly town in Her Majesty's British Dominions, andwe appealed to a respectable-looking passenger who was being rowedashore with us in the boat as to where we could obtain good lodgings. Hekindly volunteered to accompany us to a house at which he had himselfstayed before taking up his permanent residence as a tradesman in thetown and which he could thoroughly recommend. Lerwick seemed aweird-looking place in the moonlight, and we turned many corners on ourway to our lodgings, and were beginning to wonder how we should find ourway out again, when our companion stopped suddenly before a privateboarding-house, the door of which was at once opened by the mistress. Wethanked the gentleman for his kind introduction, and as we entered thehouse the lady explained that it was her custom to wait up for thearrival of the _St. Magnus_. We found the fire burning and the kettleboiling, and the cup that cheers was soon on the table with the usualaccompaniments, which were quickly disposed of. We were then ushered toour apartments--a bedroom and sitting or dining-room combined, cleanand comfortable, but everything seemed to be moving like the ship we hadjust left. Once in bed, however, we were soon claimed by the God ofSlumber, sleep, and dreams--our old friend Morpheus. 

_Sunday, September 10th. _

In the morning we attended the English Episcopalian Church, and, afterservice, which was rather of a high church character, we walked into thecountry until we came in sight of the rough square tower of ScallowayCastle, and on our return we inspected the ruins of a Pictish castle, the first of the kind we had seen, although we were destined to see manyothers in the course of our journey. 

[Illustration: LERWICK. Commercial Street as it was in 1871. ]

The Picts, we were informed, were a race of people who settled in thenorth of Scotland in pre-Roman times, and who constructed theirdwellings either of earth or stone, but always in a circular form. Thisold castle was built of stone, and the walls were five or six yardsthick; inside these walls rooms had been made for the protection of theowners, while the circular, open space enclosed by the walls hadprobably been for the safe housing of their cattle. An additionalprotection had also been formed by the water with which the castle wassurrounded, and which gave it the appearance of a small island in themiddle of a lake. It was connected with the land by means of a narrowroad, across which we walked. The castle did not strike us as havingbeen a very desirable place of residence; the ruins had such a verydismal and deserted appearance that we did not stay there long, butreturned to our lodgings for lunch. After this we rested awhile, andthen joined the townspeople, who were patrolling every available spaceoutside. The great majority of these were women, healthy andgood-looking, and mostly dressed in black, as were also those weafterwards saw in the Orkneys and the extreme north of Scotland, and wethought that some of our disconsolate bachelor friends might have beenable to find very desirable partners for life in these northerndominions of Her Majesty the Queen. 

The houses in Lerwick had been built in all sorts of positions withoutany attempt at uniformity, and the rough, flagged passage which did dutyfor the main street was, to our mind, the greatest curiosity of all, andalmost worth going all the way to Shetland to see. It was curved andangled in such an abrupt and zigzag manner that it gave us theimpression that the houses had been built first, and the street, wherepracticable, filled in afterwards. A gentleman from London was loud inhis praise of this wonderful street; he said he felt so much safer therethan in "beastly London, " as he could stand for hours in that streetbefore the shop windows without being run over by any cab, cart, oromnibus, and without feeling a solitary hand exploring his coat pockets. This was quite true, as we did not see any vehicles in Lerwick, norcould they have passed each other through the crooked streets had theybeen there, and thieves would have been equally difficult to find. Formerly, however, Lerwick had an evil reputation in that respect, as itwas noted for being the abode of sheep-stealers and pirates, so much so, that, about the year 1700, it had become such a disreputable place thatan earnest appeal was made to the "Higher Authorities" to have the placeburnt, and for ever made desolate, on account of its great wickedness. Since that time, however, the softening influences of the Christianreligion had permeated the hearts of the people, and, at the time of ourvisit, the town was well supplied with places of worship, and it wouldhave been difficult to have found any thieves there then. We attendedevening service in the Wesleyan Chapel, where we found a goodcongregation, a well-conducted service, and an acceptable preacher, andwe reflected that Mr. Wesley himself would have rejoiced to know thateven in such a remote place as Lerwick his principles were beingpromulgated. 

_Monday, September 11th. _

We rose early with the object of seeing all we could in the short timeat our disposal, which was limited to the space of a single day, oruntil the _St. Magnus_ was due out in the evening on her return journey. We were anxious to see a large cavern known as the Orkneyman's Cave, butas it could only be reached from the sea, we should have had to engage aboat to take us there. We were told the cave was about fifty feet squareat the entrance, but immediately beyond it increased to double the size;it was possible indeed to sail into it with a boat and to lose sight ofdaylight altogether. 

The story goes that many years ago an Orkneyman was pursued by apress-gang, but escaped being captured by sailing into the cave with hisboat. He took refuge on one of the rocky ledges inside, but in his hastehe forgot to secure his boat, and the ground swell of the sea washed itout of the cave. To make matters worse, a storm came on, and there heremained a prisoner in the cave for two days; but as soon as the stormabated he plunged into the water, swam to a small rock outside, andthence climbed to the top of the cliff and so escaped. Since that eventit had been known as the Orkneyman's Cave. 

We went to the boat at the appointed time, but unfortunately the windwas too strong for us to get round to the cave, so we were disappointed. The boatman suggested as the next best thing that we should go to seethe Island of Noss. He accordingly took us across the bay, which wasabout a mile wide, and landed us on the Island of Bressay. Here it wasnecessary for us to get a permit to enable us to proceed farther, so, securing his boat, the boatman accompanied us to the factor's house, where he procured a pass, authorising us to land on the Island of Noss, of which the following is a facsimile:

 _Allow Mr. Nailer and friends to land on Noss. To Walter. A. M. Walker_. 

Here he left us, as we had to walk across the Island of Bressay, and, after a tramp of two or three miles, during which we did not see asingle human being, we came to another water where there was a boat. Here we found Walter, and, after we had exhibited our pass, he rowed usacross the narrow arm of the sea and landed us on the Island of Noss. Hegave us careful instructions how to proceed so that we could see theHolm of Noss, and warned us against approaching too near the edge of theprecipice which we should find there. After a walk of about a mile, allup hill, we came to the precipitous cliffs which formed the oppositeboundary of the island, and from a promontory there we had a magnificentview of the rocks, with the waves of the sea dashing against them, hundreds of feet below. A small portion of the island was here separatedfrom the remainder by a narrow abyss about fifty feet wide, down whichit was terrible to look, and this separated portion was known as theHolm of Noss. It rose precipitously on all sides from the sea, and itslevel surface on the top formed a favourite nesting-place for myriads ofwild birds of different varieties, which not only covered the top of theHolm, but also the narrow ledges along its jagged sides. Previous to theseventeenth century, this was one of the places where the foot of manhad never trod, and a prize of a cow was offered to any man who wouldclimb the face of the cliff and establish a connection with the mainlandby means of a rope, as it was thought that the Holm would providepasturage for about twenty sheep. A daring fowler, from Foula Island, successfully performed the feat, and ropes were firmly secured to therocks on each side, and along two parallel ropes a box or basket wasfixed, capable of holding a man and a sheep. This apparatus was namedthe Cradle of Noss, and was so arranged that an Islander with or withouta sheep placed in the cradle could drag himself across the chasm ineither direction. Instead, however, of returning by the rope or cradle, on which he would have been comparatively safe, the hardy fowler decidedto go back by the same way he had come, and, missing his foothold, fell on the rocks in the sea below and was dashed to pieces, so thatthe prize was never claimed by him. 

[Illustration: THE HOLM OF NOSS. "It made us shudder . . . As we peereddown on the abysmal depths below. "]

We felt almost spellbound as we approached this awful chasm, and as ifwe were being impelled by some invisible force towards the edge of theprecipice. It fairly made us shudder as on hands and knees we peereddown on the abysmal depths below. It was a horrible sensation, and onethat sometimes haunted us in our dreams for years afterwards, and wefelt greatly relieved when we found that we could safely crawl away andregain an upright posture. We could see thousands upon thousands of wildbirds, amongst which the ordinary sea-gull was largely represented; butthere were many other varieties of different colours, and thecombination of their varied cries, mingled with the bleating of thesheep, the whistling of the wind, the roaring of the waves as theydashed against the rocks below, or entered the caverns with a sound likedistant thunder, tended to make us feel quite bewildered. We retired tothe highest elevation we could find, and there, 600 miles from home, andperhaps as many feet above sea-level, was solitude in earnest. We werethe only human beings on the island, and the enchanting effect of thewild scenery, the vast expanse of sea, the distant moaning of thewaters, the great rocks worn by the wind and the waves into all kinds offantastic shapes and caverns, the blue sky above with the glorious sunshining upon us, all proclaimed to our minds the omnipotence of thegreat Creator of the Universe, the Almighty Maker and Giver of all. 

We lingered as long as we could in these lonely and romantic solitudes, and, as we sped down the hill towards the boat, we suddenly becameconscious that we had not thought either of what we should eat or whatwe should drink since we had breakfasted early in the morning, and wewere very hungry. Walter was waiting for us on our side of the water, ashe had been watching for our return, and had seen us coming when we werenearly a mile away. There was no vegetation to obstruct the view, for, as he said, we might walk fifty miles in Shetland without meeting with abush or tree. We had an agreeable surprise when we reached the otherside of the water in finding some light refreshments awaiting ourarrival which he had thoughtfully provided in the event of their beingrequired, and for which we were profoundly thankful. The cradle of Nosshad disappeared some time before our visit, but, if it had been there, we should have been too terrified to make use of it. It had becomedangerous, and as the pasturage of sheep on the Holm had proved afailure, the birds had again become masters of the situation, while thecradle had fallen to decay. Walter gave us an awful description of thedanger of the fowler's occupation, especially in the Foula Island, wherethe rocks rose towering a thousand feet above the sea. The top of thecliffs there often projected over their base, so that the fowler had tobe suspended on a rope fastened to the top of the cliff, swinginghimself backwards and forwards like a pendulum until he could reach theledge of rock where the birds laid their eggs. Immediately he landed onit, he had to secure his rope, and then gather the eggs in a hoop net, and put them in his wallet, and then swing off again, perhaps hundredsof feet above the sea, to find another similar ledge, so that hisbusiness was practically carried on in the air. On one of theseoccasions a fowler had just reached a landing-place on the precipice, when his rope slipped out of his hand, and swung away from the cliffinto the empty air. If he had hesitated one moment, he would have beenlost for ever, as in all probability he would either have been starvedto death on the ledge of rock on which he was or fallen exhausted intothe sea below. The first returning swing of the rope might bring him achance of grasping it, but the second would be too far away. The ropecame back, the desperate man measured the distance with his eye, sprangforward in the air, grasped the rope, and was saved. 

Sometimes the rope became frayed or cut by fouling some sharp edge ofrock above, and, if it broke, the fowler was landed in eternity. Occasionally two or three men were suspended on the same rope at thesame time. Walter told us of a father and two sons who were on the ropein this way, the father being the lowest and his two sons being abovehim, when the son who was uppermost saw that the rope was being frayedabove him, and was about to break. He called to his brother who was justbelow that the rope would no longer hold them all, and asked him to cutit off below him and let their father go. This he indignantly refused todo, whereupon his brother, without a moment's hesitation, cut the ropebelow himself, and both his father and brother perished. 

It was terrible to hear such awful stories, as our nerves were unstrungalready, so we asked our friend Walter not to pile on the agony further, and, after rewarding him for his services, we hurried over the remainingspace of land and sea that separated us from our comfortable quarters atLerwick, where a substantial tea was awaiting our arrival. 

We were often asked what we thought of Shetland and its inhabitants. 

Shetland was fine in its mountain and coast scenery, but it was wantingin good roads and forests, and it seemed strange that no effort had beenmade to plant some trees, as forests had formerly existed there, and, asa gentleman told us, there seemed no peculiarity in either the soil orclimate to warrant an opinion unfavourable to the country'sarboricultural capacity. Indeed, such was the dearth of trees andbushes, that a lady, who had explored the country thoroughly, declaredthat the tallest and grandest tree she saw during her visit to theIslands was a stalk of rhubarb which had run to seed and was waving itshead majestically in a garden below the old fort of Lerwick!

Agriculture seemed also to be much neglected, but possibly the fishingindustry was more profitable. The cottages also were very small and ofprimitive construction, many of them would have been condemned as beingunfit for human habitation if they had existed elsewhere, and yet, inspite of this apparent drawback, these hardy islanders enjoyed the bestof health and brought up large families of very healthy-lookingchildren. Shetland will always have a pleasant place in our memories, and, as regards the people who live there, to speak the truth wescarcely ever met with folks we liked better. We received the greatestkindness and hospitality, and met with far greater courtesy and civilitythan in the more outwardly polished and professedly cultivated parts ofthe countries further south, especially when making inquiries frompeople to whom we had not been "introduced"! The Shetlanders spoke goodEnglish, and seemed a highly intelligent race of people. Many of themen went to the whale and other fisheries in the northern seas, and"Greenland's icy mountains" were well known to them. 

On the island there were many wives and mothers who mourned the loss ofhusbands and sons who had perished in that dangerous occupation, andthese remarks also applied to the Orkney Islands, to which we werereturning, and might also account for so many of these women beingdressed in black. Every one told us we were visiting the islands toolate in the year, and that we ought to have made our appearance at anearlier period, when the sun never sets, and when we should have beenable to read at midnight without the aid of an artificial light. Shetland was evidently in the range of the "Land of the Midnight Sun, "but whether we should have been able to keep awake in order to read atmidnight was rather doubtful, as we were usually very sleepy. At onetime of the year, however, the sun did not shine at all, and theIslanders had to rely upon the Aurora Borealis, or the Northern Lights, which then made their appearance and shone out brilliantly, spreading abeautifully soft light over the islands. We wondered if it were this orthe light of the midnight sun that inspired the poet to write:

 Night walked in beauty o'er the peaceful sea. Whose gentle waters spoke tranquillity, or if it had been borrowed from some more peaceful clime, as we had notyet seen the "peaceful sea" amongst these northern islands. We had nowonce more to venture on its troubled waters, and we made our appearanceat the harbour at the appointed time for the departure of the _St. Magnus_. We were, however, informed that the weather was too misty forour boat to leave, so we returned to our lodgings, ordered a fire, andwere just making ourselves comfortable and secretly hoping our departuremight be delayed until morning, when Mrs. Sinclair, our landlady, cameto tell us that the bell, which was the signal for the _St. Magnus_ toleave, had just rung. We hurried to the quay, only to find that the boatwhich conveyed passengers and mails to our ship had disappeared. We werein a state of consternation, but a group of sailors, who were standingby, advised us to hire a special boat, and one was brought upimmediately, by which, after a lot of shouting and whistling--for wecould scarcely see anything in the fog--we were safely landed on thesteamboat. We had only just got beyond the harbour, however, when thefog became so dense that we suddenly came to a standstill, and had toremain in the bay for a considerable time. When at last we moved slowlyoutwards, the hoarse whistle of the _St. Magnus_ was sounded at shortintervals, to avoid collision with any other craft. It had a strangelymournful sound, suggestive of a funeral or some great calamity, and weshould almost have preferred being in a storm, when we could have seenthe danger, rather than creeping along in the fog and darkness, with aconstant dread of colliding with some other boat or with one of thedangerous rocks which we knew were in the vicinity. Sleep was out of thequestion until later, when the fog began to clear a little, and, in themeantime, we found ourselves in the company of a group of young men whotold us they were going to Aberdeen. 

One of them related a rather sorrowful story. He and his mates had comefrom one of the Shetland Islands from which the inhabitants were beingexpelled by the factor, so that he could convert the whole of the islandinto a sheep farm for his own personal advantage. Their ancestors hadlived there from time immemorial, but their parents had all receivednotice to leave, and other islands were being depopulated in the sameway. The young men were going to Aberdeen to try to find ships on whichthey could work their passage to some distant part of the world; theydid not know or care where, but he said the time would come when thiscountry would want soldiers and sailors, and would not be able to findthem after the men had been driven abroad. He also told us about what hecalled the "Truck System, " which was a great curse in their islands, as"merchants" encouraged young people to get deeply in their debt, so thatwhen they grew up they could keep them in their clutches and subjectthem to a state of semi-slavery, as with increasing families and lowwages it was then impossible to get out of debt. We were very sorry tosee these fine young men leaving the country, and when we thought of thewild and almost deserted islands we had just visited, it seemed a pitythey could not have been employed there. We had a longer and muchsmoother passage than on our outward voyage, and the fog had given placeto a fine, clear atmosphere as we once more entered the fine harbour ofKirkwall, and we had a good view of the town, which some enthusiasticpassenger described as the "Metropolis of the Orcadean Archipelago. "

_Tuesday, September 12th. _

We narrowly escaped a bad accident as we were leaving the _St. Magnus_. She carried a large number of sheep and Shetland ponies on deck, and ourway off the ship was along a rather narrow passage formed by the cattleon one side and a pile of merchandise on the other. The passengers werewalking in single file, my brother immediately in front of myself, whenone of the ponies suddenly struck out viciously with its hind legs justas we were passing. If we had received the full force of the kick, weshould have been incapacitated from walking; but fortunately itsstrength was exhausted when it reached us, and it only just grazed ourlegs. The passengers behind thought at first we were seriously injured, and one of them rushed forward and held the animal's head to preventfurther mischief; but the only damage done was to our overalls, on whichthe marks of the pony's hoofs remained as a record of the event. Onreaching the landing-place the passengers all came forward tocongratulate us on our lucky escape, and until they separated we werethe heroes of the hour, and rather enjoyed the brief notoriety. 

There was an old-world appearance about Kirkwall reminiscent of the time

 When Norse and Danish galleys plied Their oars within the Firth of Clyde, When floated Haco's banner trim Above Norwegian warriors grim, Savage of heart and huge of limb. 

for it was at the palace there that Haco, King of Norway, died in 1263. There was only one considerable street in the town, and this was windingand narrow and paved with flags in the centre, something like that inLerwick, but the houses were much more foreign in appearance, and manyof them had dates on their gables, some of them as far back as thebeginning of the fifteenth century. We went to the same hotel as on ouroutward journey, and ordered a regular good "set out" to be ready by thetime we had explored the ancient cathedral, which, like our ship, wasdedicated to _St. Magnus_. We were directed to call at a cottage for thekey, which was handed to us by the solitary occupant, and we had to findour way as best we could. After entering the ancient building, we tookthe precaution of locking the door behind us. The interior looked darkand dismal after the glorious sunshine we had left outside, and wassuggestive more of a dungeon than a place of worship, and of the darkdeeds done in the days of the past. The historian relates that St. Magnus met his death at the hands of his cousin Haco while in the churchof Eigleshay. He had retired there with a presentiment of some evilabout to happen him, and "while engaged in devotional exercises, prepared and resigned for whatever might occur, he was slain by onestroke of a hatchet. Being considered eminently pious, he was lookedupon as a saint, and his nephew Ronald built the cathedral in accordancewith a vow made before leaving Norway to lay claim to the Earldom ofOrkney. " The cathedral was considered to be the best-preserved relic ofantiquity in Scotland, and we were much impressed by the dim religiouslight which pervaded the interior, and quite bewildered amongst the darkpassages inside the walls. We had been recommended to ascend thecathedral tower for the sake of the fine view which was to be obtainedfrom the top, but had some difficulty in finding the way to the steps. Once we landed at the top of the tower we considered ourselves wellrepaid for our exertions, as the view over land and sea was verybeautiful. Immediately below were the remains of the bishop's and earl'spalaces, relics of bygone ages, now gradually crumbling to decay, whilein the distance we could see the greater portion of the sixty-sevenislands which formed the Orkney Group. Only about one-half of these wereinhabited, the remaining and smaller islands being known as holms, orpasturages for sheep, which, seen in the distance, resembled greenspecks in the great blue sea, which everywhere surrounded them. 

[Illustration: ST. MAGNUS CATHEDRAL KIRKWALL]

[Illustration: STROMNESS]

I should have liked to stay a little longer surveying this fairy-likescene, but my brother declared he could smell our breakfast, which bythis time must have been waiting for us below. Our exit was a littledelayed, as we took a wrong turn in the rather bewildering labyrinth ofarches and passages in the cathedral walls, and it was not without afeeling of relief that we reached the door we had so carefully lockedbehind us. We returned the key to the caretaker, and then went to ourhotel, where we loaded ourselves with a prodigious breakfast, andafterwards proceeded to walk across the Mainland of the Orkneys, anestimated distance of fifteen miles. 

On our rather lonely way to Stromness we noticed that agriculture wasmore advanced than in the Shetland Islands, and that the cattle weresomewhat larger, but we must say that we had been charmed with theappearance of the little Shetland ponies, excepting perhaps the one thathad done its best to give us a farewell kick when we were leaving the_St. Magnus_. Oats and barley were the crops chiefly grown, for we didnot see any wheat, and the farmers, with their wives and children, wereall busy harvesting their crops of oats, but there was still room forextension and improvement, as we passed over miles of uncultivatedmoorland later. On our inquiring what objects of interest were to beseen on our way, our curiosity was raised to its highest pitch when wewere told we should come to an underground house and to a large numberof standing stones a few miles farther on. We fully expected to descendunder the surface of the ground, and to find some cave or cavern below;but when we got to the place, we found the house practically aboveground, with a small mountain raised above it. It was covered withgrass, and had only been discovered in 1861, about ten years before ourvisit. Some boys were playing on the mountain, when one of them found asmall hole which he thought was a rabbit hole, but, pushing his arm downit, he could feel no bottom. He tried again with a small stick, but withthe same result. The boys then went to a farm and brought a longerstick, but again failed to reach the bottom of the hole, so they resumedtheir play, and when they reached home they told their parents of theiradventure, and the result was that this ancient house was discovered andan entrance to it found from the level of the land below. 

[Illustration: SHETLAND PONIES. ]

We went in search of the caretaker, and found him busy with the harvestin a field some distance away, but he returned with us to the mound. Heopened a small door, and we crept behind him along a low, narrow, anddark passage for a distance of about seventeen yards, when we entered achamber about the size of an ordinary cottage dwelling, but of avault-like appearance. It was quite dark, but our guide proceeded tolight a number of small candles, placed in rustic candlesticks, atintervals, round this strange apartment. We could then see some smallcells in the wall, which might once have been used as burial places forthe dead, and on the walls themselves were hundreds of figures orletters cut in the rock, in very thin lines, as if engraved with aneedle. We could not decipher any of them, as they appeared more likeEgyptian hieroglyphics than letters of our alphabet, and the only figurewe could distinguish was one which had the appearance of a wingeddragon. 

The history of the place was unknown, but we were afterwards told thatit was looked upon as one of the most important antiquarian discoveriesever made in Britain. The name of the place was Maeshowe. The mound wasabout one hundred yards in circumference, and it was supposed that thehouse, or tumulus, was first cut out of the rock and the earth thrownover it afterwards from the large trench by which it was surrounded. 

[Illustration: "STANDING STONES OF STENNESS. "]

Our guide then directed us to the "Standing Stones of Stenness, " whichwere some distance away; but he could not spare time to go with us, sowe had to travel alone to one of the wildest and most desolate placesimaginable, strongly suggestive of ghosts and the spirits of thedeparted. We crossed the Bridge of Brogar, or Bruargardr, and thenwalked along a narrow strip of land dividing two lochs, both of which atthis point presented a very lonely and dismal appearance. Although theywere so near together, Loch Harry contained fresh water only and LochStenness salt water, as it had a small tidal inlet from the sea passingunder Waith Bridge, which we crossed later. There were two groups of thestanding stones, one to the north and the other to the south, and eachconsisted of a double circle of considerable extent. The stonespresented a strange appearance, as while many stood upright, some wereleaning; others had fallen, and some had disappeared altogether. Thestorms of many centuries had swept over them, and "they stood likerelics of the past, with lichens waving from their worn surfaces likegrizzly beards, or when in flower mantling them with brilliant orangehues, " while the areas enclosed by them were covered with mosses, thebeautiful stag-head variety being the most prominent. One of the poetshas described them:

 The heavy rocks of giant size That o'er the land in circles rise. Of which tradition may not tell, Fit circles for the Wizard spell; Seen far amidst the scowling storm Seem each a tall and phantom form, As hurrying vapours o'er them flee Frowning in grim security, While like a dread voice from the past Around them moans the autumnal blast!

These lichened "Standing Stones of Stenness, " with the famous Stone ofOdin about 150 yards to the north, are second only to Stonehenge, onemeasuring 18 feet in length, 5 feet 4 inches in breadth, and 18 inchesin thickness. The Stone of Odin had a hole in it to which it wassupposed that sacrificial victims were fastened in ancient times, but inlater times lovers met and joined hands through the hole in the stone, and the pledge of love then given was almost as sacred as a marriagevow. An antiquarian description of this reads as follows: "When theparties agreed to marry, they repaired to the Temple of the Moon, wherethe woman in the presence of the man fell down on her knees and prayedto the God Wodin that he would enable her to perform, all the promisesand obligations she had made, and was to make, to the young man present, after which they both went to the Temple of the Sun, where the manprayed in like manner before the woman. They then went to the Stone ofOdin, and the man being on one side and the woman on the other, theytook hold of each other's right hand through the hole and there swore tobe constant and faithful to each other. " The hole in the stone was aboutfive feet from the ground, but some ignorant farmer had destroyed thestone, with others, some years before our visit. 

There were many other stones in addition to the circles, probably theremains of Cromlechs, and there were numerous grass mounds, or barrows, both conoid and bowl-shaped, but these were of a later date than thecircles. It was hard to realise that this deserted and boggarty-lookingplace was once the Holy Ground of the ancient Orcadeans, and we wereglad to get away from it. We recrossed the Bridge of Brogar andproceeded rapidly towards Stromness, obtaining a fine prospective viewof that town, with the huge mountain masses of the Island of Hoy as abackground, on our way. These rise to a great height, and terminateabruptly near where that strange isolated rock called the "Old Man ofHoy" rises straight from the sea as if to guard the islands in the rear. The shades of evening were falling fast as we entered Stromness, butwhat a strange-looking town it seemed to us! It was built at the foot ofthe hill in the usual irregular manner and in one continuous crookedstreet, with many of the houses with their crow-stepped gables built asit were over the sea itself, and here in one of these, owing to a highrecommendation received inland, we stayed the night. It was perchedabove the water's edge, and, had we been so minded, we might have caughtthe fish named sillocks for our own breakfast without leaving the house:many of the houses, indeed, had small piers or landing-stages attachedto them, projecting towards the bay. 

We found Mrs. Spence an ideal hostess and were very comfortable, theonly drawback to our happiness being the information that the smallsteamboat that carried mails and passengers across to Thurso had goneround for repairs "and would not be back for a week, but a sloop wouldtake her place" the day after to-morrow. But just fancy crossing thestormy waters of the Pentland Firth in a sloop! We didn't quite knowwhat a sloop was, except that it was a sailing-boat with only one mast;but the very idea gave us the nightmare, and we looked upon ourselves aslost already. The mail boat, we had already been told, had been madeenormously strong to enable her to withstand the strain of the stormyseas, besides having the additional advantage of being propelled bysteam, and it was rather unfortunate that we should have arrived just atthe time she was away. We asked the reason why, and were informed thatduring the summer months seaweeds had grown on the bottom of her hullfour or five feet long, which with the barnacles so impeded her progressthat it was necessary to have them scraped off, and that even the greatwarships had to undergo the same process. 

Seaweeds of the largest size and most beautiful colours flourish, in theOrcadean seas, and out of 610 species of the flora in the islands welearned that 133 were seaweeds. Stevenson the great engineer wrote thatthe large Algæ, and especially that one he named the "Fucus esculentus, "grew on the rocks from self-grown seed, six feet in six months, so wecould quite understand how the speed of a ship would be affected whencarrying this enormous growth on the lower parts of her hull. 

_Wednesday, September 13th. _

We had the whole of the day at our disposal to explore Stromness and theneighbourhood, and we made the most of it by rambling about the town andthen along the coast to the north, but we were seldom out of sight ofthe great mountains of Hoy. 

Sir Walter Scott often visited this part of the Orkneys, and some of thecharacters he introduced in his novels were found here. In 1814 he madethe acquaintance of a very old woman near Stromness, named BessieMiller, whom he described as being nearly one hundred years old, withered and dried up like a mummy, with light blue eyes that gleamedwith a lustre like that of insanity. She eked out her existence byselling favourable winds to mariners, for which her fee was sixpence, and hardly a mariner sailed out to sea from Stromness without visitingand paying his offering to Old Bessie Miller. Sir Walter drew thestrange, weird character of "Norna of the Fitful Head" in his novel _ThePirate_ from her. 

The prototype of "Captain Cleveland" in the same novel was John Gow, theson of a Stromness merchant. This man went to sea, and by some means orother became possessed of a ship named the _Revenge_, which carriedtwenty-four guns. He had all the appearance of a brave young officer, and on the occasions when he came home to see his father he gavedancing-parties to his friends. Before his true character was known--forhe was afterwards proved to be a pirate--he engaged the affections of ayoung lady of fortune, and when he was captured and convicted shehastened to London to see him before he was executed; but, arrivingthere too late, she begged for permission to see his corpse, and, takinghold of one hand, she vowed to remain true to him, for fear, it wassaid, of being haunted by his ghost if she bestowed her hand uponanother. 

It is impossible to visit Stromness without hearing something of thatfamous geologist Hugh Miller, who was born at Cromarty in the north ofScotland in the year 1802, and began life as a quarry worker, and wroteseveral learned books on geology. In one of these, entitled _Footprintsof the Creator in the Asterolepis of Stromness_, he demolished theDarwinian theory that would make a man out to be only a highly developedmonkey, and the monkey a highly developed mollusc. My brother had a verypoor opinion of geologists, but his only reason for this seemed to havebeen formed from the opinion of some workmen in one of our brickfields. A gentleman who took an interest in geology used to visit them atintervals for about half a year, and persuaded the men when excavatingthe clay to put the stones they found on one side so that he couldinspect them, and after paying many visits he left without eitherthanking them or giving them the price of a drink! But my brother waspleased with Hugh Miller's book, for he had always contended that Darwinwas mistaken, and that instead of man having descended from the monkey, it was the monkey that had descended from the man. I persuaded him tovisit the museum, where we saw quite a number of petrified fossils. Asthere was no one about to give us any information, we failed to findHugh Miller's famous asterolepis, which we heard afterwards had theappearance of a petrified nail, and had formed part of a huge fish whosespecies were known to have measured from eight to twenty-three feet inlength. It was only about six inches long, and was described as one ofthe oldest, if not the oldest, vertebrate fossils hitherto discovered. Stromness ought to be the Mecca, the happy hunting-ground, or theParadise to geologists, for Hugh Miller has said it could furnish morefossil fish than any other geological system in England, Scotland, andWales, and could supply ichthyolites by the ton, or a ship load offossilised fish sufficient to supply the museums of the world. How camethis vast number of fish to be congregated here? and what was the forcethat overwhelmed them? It was quite evident from the distorted portionsof their skeletons, as seen in the quarried flags, that they hadsuffered a violent death. But as we were unable to study geology, andcould neither pronounce nor understand the names applied to the fossils, we gave it up in despair, as a deep where all our thoughts were drowned. 

We then walked along the coast, until we came to the highest point ofthe cliffs opposite some dangerous rocks called the Black Craigs, aboutwhich a sorrowful story was told. It happened on Wednesday, March 5th, 1834, during a terrific storm, when the _Star of Dundee_, a schooner ofabout eighty tons, was seen to be drifting helplessly towards theserocks. The natives knew there was no chance of escape for the boat, andran with ropes to the top of the precipice near the rocks in the hope ofbeing of some assistance; but such was the fury of the waves that theboat was broken into pieces before their eyes, and they were utterlyhelpless to save even one of their shipwrecked fellow-creatures. Thestorm continued for some time, and during the remainder of the weeknothing of any consequence was found, nor was any of the crew heard ofagain, either dead or alive, till on the Sunday morning a man wassuddenly observed on the top of the precipice waving his hands, and thepeople who saw him first were so astonished that they thought it was aspectre. It was afterwards discovered that it was one of the crew of theill-fated ship who had been miraculously saved. He had been washed intoa cave from a large piece of the wreck, which had partially blocked itsentrance and so checked the violence of the waves inside, and there werealso washed in from the ship some red herrings, a tin can which had beenused for oil, and two pillows. The herrings served him for food and thetin can to collect drops of fresh water as they trickled down the rocksfrom above, while one of the pillows served for his bed and he used theother for warmth by pulling out the feathers and placing them into hisboots. Occasionally when the waves filled the mouth of the cave he wasafraid of being suffocated. Luckily for him at last the storm subsidedsufficiently to admit of his swimming out of the cave; how he managed toscale the cliffs seemed little short of a miracle. He was kindly treatedby the Islanders, and when he recovered they fitted him out withclothing so that he could join another ship. By what we may call theirony of fate he was again shipwrecked some years afterwards. This timethe fates were less kind, for he was drowned!

[Illustration: THE WRECK. ]

We had a splendid view of the mountains and sea, and stayed as usual onthe cliffs until the pangs of hunger compelled us to return toStromness, where we knew that a good tea was waiting for us. At onepoint on our way back the Heads of Hoy strangely resembled the profileof the great Sir Walter Scott, and this he would no doubt have seen whencollecting materials for _The Pirate_. 

We had heard both in Shetland and Orkney that when we reached John o'Groat's we should find an enormous number of shells on the beach, and aswe had some extensive rockeries at home already adorned with thousandsof oyster shells, in fact so many as to cause our home to be nicknamed"Oyster Shell Hall, " we decided to gather some of the shells when we gotto John o'Groat's and send them home to our friends. The question ofpackages, however, seemed to be rather a serious one, as we were assuredover and over again we should find no packages when we reached thatout-of-the-way corner of Scotland, and that in the whole of the OrkneyIslands there were not sufficient willows grown to make a single basket, skip, or hamper. So after tea we decided to explore the town in searchof a suitable hamper, and we had some amusing experiences, as the peopledid not know what a hamper was. At length we succeeded in finding onerather ancient and capacious basket, but without a cover, whoseappearance suggested that it had been washed ashore from some ship thathad been wrecked many years ago, and, having purchased it at about threetimes its value, we carried it in triumph to our lodgings, to theintense amusement of our landlady and the excited curiosity of theStromnessians. 

We spent the remainder of the evening in looking through Mrs. Spence'ssmall library of books, but failed to find anything very consoling tous, as they related chiefly to storms and shipwrecks, and the dangerousnature of the Pentland Firth, whose turbulent waters we had to cross onthe morrow. 

The Pentland Firth lies between the north of Scotland and the OrkneyIslands, varies from five and a half to eight miles in breadth, and isby repute the most dangerous passage in the British Isles. We were toldin one of the books that if we wanted to witness a regular "passage ofarms" between two mighty seas, the Atlantic at Dunnet Head on the west, and the North Sea at Duncansbay Head on the east, we must cross PentlandFirth and be tossed upon its tides before we should be able to imaginewhat might be termed their ferocity. "The rush of two mighty oceans, struggling to sweep this world of waters through a narrow sound, anddashing their waves in bootless fury against the rocky barriers whichheadland and islet present; the endless contest of conflicting tideshurried forward and repelled, meeting, and mingling--their troubledsurface boiling and spouting--and, even in a summer calm, in an eternalstate of agitation"; and then fancy the calm changing to a storm: "thewind at west; the whole volume of the Atlantic rolling its wild mass ofwaters on, in one sweeping flood, to dash and burst upon the black andriven promontory of the Dunnet Head, until the mountain wave, shatteredinto spray, flies over the summit of a precipice, 400 feet above thebase it broke upon. " But this was precisely what we did not want to see, so we turned to the famous _Statistical Account_, which also describedthe difficulty of navigating the Firth for sailing vessels. Thisinformed us that "the current in the Pentland Firth is exceedinglystrong during the spring tides, so that no vessel can stem it. Theflood-tide runs from west to east at the rate of ten miles an hour, withnew and full moon. It is then high water at Scarfskerry (about threemiles away from Dunnet Head) at nine o'clock. Immediately, as the waterbegins to fall on the shore, the current turns to the west; but thestrength of the flood is so great in the middle of the Firth that itcontinues to run east till about twelve. With a gentle breeze ofwesterly wind, about eight o'clock in the morning the whole Firth, fromDunnet Head to Hoy Head in Orkney, seems as smooth as a sheet of glass. About nine the sea begins to rage for about one hundred yards off theHead, while all without continues smooth as before. This appearancegradually advances towards the Firth, and along the shore to the east, though the effects are not much felt along the shore till it reachesScarfskerry Head, as the land between these points forms a considerablebay. By two o'clock the whole of the Firth seems to rage. About three inthe afternoon it is low water on the shore, when all the formerphenomena are reversed, the smooth water beginning to appear next theland and advancing gradually till it reaches the middle of the Firth. Tostrangers the navigation is very dangerous, especially if they approachnear to land. But the natives along the coast are so well acquaintedwith the direction of the tides, that they can take advantage of everyone of these currents to carry them safe from one harbour to another. Hence very few accidents happen, except from want of skill or knowledgeof the tides. "

[Illustration: A NORTH SEA ROLLER. ]

There were some rather amusing stories about the detention of ships inthe Firth. A Newcastle shipowner had despatched two ships from that portby the same tide, one to Bombay by the open sea, and the other, via thePentland Firth, to Liverpool, and the Bombay vessel arrived at herdestination first. Many vessels trying to force a passage through theFirth have been known to drift idly about hither and thither for monthsbefore they could get out again, and some ships that once enteredStromness Bay on New Year's Day were found there, resting from theirlabours on the fifteenth day of April following, "after wandering aboutlike the _Flying Dutchman_. " Sir Walter Scott said this was formerly aship laden with precious metals, but a horrible murder was committed onboard. A plague broke out amongst the crew, and no port would allow thevessel to enter for fear of contagion, and so she still wanders aboutthe sea with her phantom crew, never to rest, but doomed to be tossedabout for ever. She is now a spectral ship, and hovers about the Cape ofGood Hope as an omen of bad luck to mariners who are so unfortunate asto see her. 

The dangerous places at each end of the Firth were likened to the Scyllaand Charybdis between Italy and Sicily, where, in avoiding one marinerswere often wrecked by the other; but the dangers in the Firth were fromthe "Merry Men of Mey, " a dangerous expanse of sea, where the water wasalways boiling like a witch's cauldron at one end, and the dreaded"Swalchie Whirlpool" at the other. This was very dangerous for smallboats, as they could sail over it safely in one state of the tide, butwhen it began to move it carried the boat round so slowly that theoccupants did not realise their danger until too late, when they foundthemselves going round quicker and quicker as they descended into theawful vortex below, where the ancient Vikings firmly believed thesubmarine mill existed which ground the salt that supplied the ocean. 

We ought not to have read these dismal stories just before retiring torest, as the consequence was that we were dreaming of dangerous rocks, storms, and shipwrecks all through the night, and my brother had toiledup the hill at the back of the town and found Bessie Miller there, justas Sir Walter Scott described her, with "a clay-coloured kerchief foldedround her head to match the colour of her corpse-like complexion. " Hewas just handing her a sixpence to pay for a favourable wind, wheneverything was suddenly scattered by a loud knock at the door, followedby the voice of our hostess informing us that it was five o'clock andthat the boat was "awa' oot" at six. 

We were delighted to find that in place of the great storm pictured inour excited imagination there was every prospect of a fine day, and thata good "fish breakfast" served in Mrs. Spence's best style was waitingfor us below stairs. 

_Thursday, September 14th. _

After bidding Mrs. Spence farewell, and thanking her for her kindattention to us during our visit to Stromness, we made our way to thesloop, which seemed a frail-looking craft to cross the stormy waters ofthe Pentland Firth. We did not, of course, forget our large basket whichwe had had so much difficulty in finding, and which excited so muchattention and attracted so much curiosity towards ourselves all the wayto John o' Groat's. It even caused the skipper to take a friendlyinterest in us, for after our explanation he stored that ancient basketamongst his more valuable cargo. 

There was only a small number of passengers, but in spite of the earlyhour quite a little crowd of people had assembled to witness ourdeparture, and a considerable amount of banter was going on betweenthose on board the sloop and the company ashore, which continued as wemoved away, each party trying to get the better of the other. As afinale, one of our passengers shouted to his friend who had come to seehim off: "Do you want to buy a cow?" "Yes, " yelled his friend, "but Isee nothing but a calf. " A general roar of laughter followed thisrepartee, as we all thought the Orkneyman on shore had scored. We shouldhave liked to have fired another shot, but by the time the laughter hadsubsided we were out of range. We did not expect to be on the way morethan three or four hours, as the distance was only about twenty-fourmiles; but we did not reach Thurso until late in the afternoon, and weshould have been later if we had had a less skilful skipper. In thefirst place we had an unfavourable wind, which prevented our sailing bythe Hoy Sound, the shortest and orthodox route, and this caused us tomiss the proper sea view of the "Old Man of Hoy, " which the steamboatfrom Stromness to Thurso always passed in close proximity, but we couldperceive it in the distance as an insular Pillar of Rock, standing 450feet high with rocks in vicinity rising 1, 000 feet, although we couldnot see the arch beneath, which gives it the appearance of standing ontwo legs, and hence the name given to the rock by the sailors. TheOrcadean poet writes:

 See Hoy's Old Man whose summit bare Pierces the dark blue fields of air; Based in the sea, his fearful form Glooms like the spirit of the storm. 

[Illustration: "OLD MAN OF HOY. "]

When pointing out the Old Man to us, the captain said that he stood inthe roughest bit of sea round the British coast, and the words "wind andweather permitting" were very applicable when stoppages worecontemplated at the Old Man or other places in these stormy seas. 

We had therefore to sail by way of Lang Hope, which we supposed was alonger route, and we were astonished at the way our captain handled hisboat; but when we reached what we thought was Lang Hope, he informed thepassengers that he intended to anchor here for some time, and those whowished could be ferried ashore. We had decided to remain on the boat, but when the captain said there was an inn there where refreshmentscould be obtained, my brother declared that he felt quite hungry, andinsisted upon our having a second breakfast. We were therefore rowedashore, and were ushered into the parlour of the inn as if we were thelords of the manor and sole owners, and were very hospitably receivedand entertained. The inn was appropriately named the "Ship, " and thetreatment we received was such as made us wish we were making a longerstay, but time and tide wait for no man. 

 For the next inn he spurs amain, In haste alights, and scuds away-- But time and tide for no man stay. 

[Illustration: THE SHIP INN, LANG HOPE. The sign has now been removed toa new hotel, visible in the photograph, on the opposite side of theferry. ]

Whether it was for time or tide or for one of those mysterious movementsin the Pentland Firth that our one-masted boat was waiting we neverknew. We had only just finished our breakfast when a messenger appearedto summon us to rejoin the sloop, which had to tack considerably beforewe reached what the skipper described as the Scrabster Roads. A stiffbreeze had now sprung up, and there was a strong current in the sea; ateach turn or tack our boat appeared to be sailing on her side, and wewere apprehensive that she might be blown over into the sea. We watchedthe operations carefully and anxiously, and it soon became evident thatwhat our skipper did not know about the navigation of these stormy seaswas not worth knowing. We stood quite near him (and the mast) the wholeof the time, and he pointed out every interesting landmark as it came insight. He seemed to be taking advantage of the shelter afforded by theislands, as occasionally we came quite near their rocky shores, and atone point he showed us a small hole in the rock which was only a fewfeet above the sea; he told us it formed the entrance to a cave inwhich he had often played when, as a boy, he lived on that island. 

[Illustration: DUNNET HEAD AND LIGHTHOUSE. ]

The time had now arrived to cross the Pentland Firth and to sail roundDunnet Head to reach Thurso. Fortunately the day was fine, and thestrong breeze was nothing in the shape of a storm; but in spite of thesefavourable conditions we got a tossing, and no mistake! Our little shipwas knocked about like a cork on the waters, which were absolutelyboiling and foaming and furiously raging without any perceptible cause, and as if a gale were blowing on them two ways at once. The appearanceof the foaming mass of waters was terrible to behold; we could hear themroaring and see them struggling together just below us; the deck of thesloop was only a few feet above them, and it appeared as if we might beswallowed up at any moment. The captain told us that this turmoil wascaused by the meeting of the waters of two seas, and that at times itwas very dangerous to small boats. 

Many years ago he was passing through the Firth with his boat on arather stormy day, when he noticed he was being followed by another boatbelonging to a neighbour of his. He could see it distinctly from time totime, and he was sure that it could not be more than 200 yards away, when he suddenly missed it. He watched anxiously for some time, but itfailed to reappear, nor was the boat or its crew ever seen or heard ofagain, and it was supposed to have been carried down by a whirlpool!

We were never more thankful than when we got safely across those awfulwaters and the great waves we encountered off Dunnet Head, and when wewere safely landed near Thurso we did not forget the skipper, but badehim a friendly and, to him, lucrative farewell. 

We had some distance to walk before reaching the town where, loaded withour luggage and carrying the large basket between us, each taking holdof one of the well-worn handles, we attracted considerable attention, and almost every one we saw showed a disposition to see what we werecarrying in our hamper; but when they discovered it was empty, theircuriosity was turned into another channel, and they must see where wewere taking it; so by the time we reached the house recommended by ourskipper for good lodgings we had a considerable following of "lookerson. " Fortunately, however, no one attempted to add to our burden byplacing anything in the empty basket or we should have been tempted tocarry it bottom upwards like an inmate of one of the asylums inLancashire. A new addition was being built in the grounds, and some ofthe lunatics were assisting in the building operations, when the foremandiscovered one of them pushing his wheelbarrow with the bottom upwardsand called out to him, "Why don't you wheel it the right way up?"

"I did, " said the lunatic solemnly, "but they put bricks in it!"

We felt that some explanation was due to our landlady, who smiled whenshe saw the comical nature of that part of our luggage and the motleygroup who had followed us, and as we unfolded its history and describedthe dearth of willows in the Orkneys, the price we had paid, thedifficulties in finding the hamper, and the care we had taken of it whencrossing the stormy seas, we could see her smile gradually expandinginto a laugh that she could retain no longer when she told us we couldhave got a better and a cheaper basket than that in the "toon, " meaningThurso, of course. It was some time before we recovered ourselves, laughter being contagious, and we could hear roars of it at the rear ofthe house as our antiquated basket was being stored there. 

After tea we crossed the river which, like the town, is named Thurso, the word, we were informed, meaning Thor's House. Thor, the god ofthunder, was the second greatest of the Scandinavian deities, while hisfather, Odin, the god of war, was the first. We had some difficulty incrossing the river, as we had to pass over it by no less thaneighty-five stepping-stones, several of which were slightly submerged. Here we came in sight of Thurso Castle, the residence of the Sinclairfamily, one of whom, Sir John Sinclair, was the talented author of thefamous _Statistical Account of Scotland_, and a little farther on stoodHarold's Tower. This tower was erected by John Sinclair over the tomb ofEarl Harold, the possessor at one time of one half of Orkney, Shetland, and Caithness, who fell in battle against his own namesake, Earl Haroldthe Wicked, in 1190. In the opposite direction was Scrabster and itscastle, the scene of the horrible murder of John, Earl of Caithness, inthe twelfth century, "whose tongue was cut from his throat and whoseeyes were put out. " We did not go there, but went into the town, andthere witnessed the departure of the stage, or mail coach, which wasjust setting out on its journey of eighty miles, for railways had notyet made their appearance in Caithness, the most northerly county inScotland. We then went to buy another hamper, and got a much better onefor less money than we paid at Stromness, for we had agreed that wewould send home two hampers filled with shells instead of one. We alsoinquired the best way of getting to John o' Groat's, and were informedthat the Wick coach would take us the first six miles, and then weshould have to walk the remaining fifteen. We were now only one day'sjourney to the end and also from the beginning of our journey, and, asmay easily be imagined, we were anxiously looking forward to the morrow. 

_Friday, September 15th. _

At eight o'clock in the morning we were comfortably seated in the coachwhich was bound for Wick, with our luggage and the two hampers safelysecured on the roof above, and after a ride of about six miles we wereleft, with our belongings, at the side of the highway where the by-roadleading in the direction of John o' Groat's branched off to the leftacross the open country. The object of our walk had become known to ourfellow-passengers, and they all wished us a pleasant journey as thecoach moved slowly away. Two other men who had friends in the coach alsoalighted at the same place, and we joined them in waving adieux, whichwere acknowledged from the coach, as long as it remained in sight. Theyalso very kindly assisted us to carry our luggage as far as they weregoing on our way, and then they helped us to scheme how best to carry itourselves. We had brought some strong cord with us from Thurso, and withthe aid of this they contrived to sling the hampers over our shoulders, leaving us free to carry the remainder of our luggage in the usual way, and then, bidding us a friendly farewell, left us to continue on ourlonely way towards John o' Groat's. We must have presented anextraordinary appearance with these large baskets extending behind ourbacks, and we created great curiosity and some amusement amongst themen, women, and children who were hard at work harvesting in the countrythrough which we passed. 

My brother said it reminded him of Christian in John Bunyan's _Pilgrim'sProgress_, who carried the burden on his back and wanted to get rid ofit; while I thought of Sinbad the Sailor, who, when wrecked on a desertisland, was compelled to carry the Old Man of the Sea on his shoulders, and he also wanted to get rid of his burden; but we agreed that, likeboth of these worthy characters, we should be obliged to carry ourburdens to the end of the journey. 

We had a fine view of Dunnet Head, which is said to be the Cape Orcasmentioned by Diodorus Siculus, the geographer who lived in the time ofJulius Cæsar, and of the lighthouse which had been built on the top ofit in 1832, standing quite near the edge of the cliff. 

The light from the lantern, which was 346 feet above the highest springtide, could be seen at a distance of 23 miles; but even this wassometimes obscured by the heavy storms from the west when the enormousbillows from the Atlantic dashed against the rugged face of the cliffand threw up the spray as high as the lights of the building itself, sothat the stones they contained have been known to break the glass in thebuilding; such, indeed, was the prodigious combined force of the windand sea upon the headland, that the very rock seemed to tremble as if itwere affected by an earthquake. 

While on the coach we had passed the hamlets of Murkle and Castlehill. Between these two places was a sandy pool on the seashore to which acurious legend was attached. The story goes that--

 a young lad on one occasion discovered a mermaid bathing and by some means or other got into conversation with her and rendered himself so agreeable that a regular meeting at the same spot took place between them. This continued for some time. The young man grew exceedingly wealthy, and no one could tell how he became possessed of such riches. He began to cut a dash amongst the lasses, making them presents of strings of diamonds of vast value, the gifts of the fair sea nymph. By and by he began to forget the day of his appointment; and when he did come to see her, money and jewels were his constant request. The mermaid lectured him pretty sharply on his love of gold, and, exasperated at his perfidy in bestowing her presents on his earthly fair ones, enticed him one evening rather farther than usual, and at length showed him a beautiful boat, in which she said she would convey him to a cave in Darwick Head, where she had all the wealth of all the ships that ever were lost in the Pentland Firth and on the sands of Dunnet. He hesitated at first, but the love of gold prevailed, and off they set to the cave in question. And here, says the legend, he is confined with a chain of gold, sufficiently long to admit of his walking at times on a small piece of sand under the western side of the Head; and here, too, the fair siren laves herself in the tiny waves on fine summer evenings, but no consideration will induce her to loose his fetters of gold, or trust him one hour out of her sight. 

We walked on at a good pace and in high spirits, but, after havingknocked about for nine days and four nights and having travelled sevenor eight hundred miles by land and sea, the weight of our extra burdenbegan to tell upon us, and we felt rather tired and longed for a restboth for mind and body in some quiet spot over the week's end, especially as we had decided to begin our long walk on the Mondaymorning. 

Visions of a good hotel which we felt sure we should find at John o'Groat's began to haunt us, and the more hungry we became the brighterwere our anticipations of the good fare that awaited us. But judge ofour surprise and disappointment when a man whom we met on the road toldus there was no hotel there at all! We asked if he thought we could getlodgings at John o' Groat's House itself, but the sardonic grin thatspread over his features when he told us that that house had vanishedlong ago was cruel. The information gave us quite a shock, and ourspirits seemed to fall below zero as we turned our backs on the manwithout even thanking him for answering our questions. We felt not toofull, but too empty for words, as we were awfully hungry, and I heard mybrother murmur something that sounded very like "Liar"; but the man'sinformation turned out to be perfectly correct. Our luggage also beganto feel heavier, and the country gradually became more wild anddesolate. Our spirits revived a little when a fisherman told us of asmall inn that we should reach a mile or two before coming to John o'Groat's. We thought we had surely come to the end of everywhere when wereached the "Huna Inn, " for it stood some distance from any other houseand at the extreme end of an old lane that terminated at the sea. It wasa small, primitive structure, but it was now our only hope, as far as weknew, for obtaining lodgings, and we could scarcely restrain our delightwhen we were told we could be accommodated there until Monday morning. It was an intense relief to us to be separated from our cumbersomeluggage, and we must say that Mr. And Mrs. Mackenzie did all in theirpower to make us comfortable and happy and to make us feel at home. Wecontented ourselves with some light refreshments which to somenon-pedestrians might have appeared decidedly heavy, and then decided tosee all that remained of John o' Groat's House. 

Walking along the beach for about a mile and a half, the distance wewere told that separated the ruins from the inn, we failed to find them, and were about to return when we met a shepherd who said we had alreadypassed them. We therefore returned with him, as he told us he was goingto the inn, and he showed us a few mounds of earth covered with grasswhich marked the site of the foundations of John o' Groat's House, butthe stones had been removed to build a storehouse, or granary, at aplace he pointed out in the distance. We were rather disappointed, as weexpected to find some extensive remains, and, seeing they were so veryscanty, we wondered why, in a land where stones were so plentiful, somemonument or inscribed stone had not been erected to mark the site wherethis remarkable house once stood, as, in the absence of some one todirect them, strangers, like ourselves, might pass and repass theseremains without noticing them. We were not long in reaching the inn, forthe shepherd was a big man and took very long strides, and here we wrotea few short letters to our friends to advise them of our safe arrival atJohn o' Groat's, afterwards walking to the post office about a mile awayto post them, and ordering a high tea to be ready for us on our return. It was half-past eight when we finished our tea, after which we wereconducted to a little room close to the sea, with two tiny windows init, one of them without a blind, and with a peat or turf fire burningbrightly on the hearth. Mrs. Mackenzie then brought us a small candle, which she lighted, and handed us a book which she said was the "Album, "and we amused ourselves with looking over this for the remainder of theevening. It was quite a large volume, dating from the year 1839, and thefollowing official account of the Groat family, headed with a facsimileof the "Groat Arms, " was pasted inside the cover:

 THE CHIEF OF THE RACE OF JOHN O' GROAT IS ALEXANDER G. GROAT, ESQ. , ADVOCATE, EDINBURGH. 

 NOTICES OF JOHN O' GROAT'S HOUSE. 

 It is stated in _Sinclair's Statistical Accounts of Scotland_, vol. 8, page 167 and following:--"In the account of Cannisby by the Rev. John Marison, D. D. , that in the reign of James the Fourth, King of Scotland, Malcom, Cairn and John de Groat, supposed to have been brothers and originally from Holland, arrived in Caithness from the south of Scotland, bringing with them a letter in Latin by that King recommending him to the countenance and protection of his loving subjects in the County of Caithness. "

 It is stated in _Chambers's Pictures of Scotland_, vol. 2, page 306, "that the foundations or ruins of John o' Groat's House, which is perhaps the most celebrated in the whole world, are still to be seen. "

Then followed the names and addresses of visitors extending over aperiod of thirty-three years, many of them having also written remarksin prose, poetry, or doggerel rhyme, so we found plenty of food forthought and some amusement before we got even half way through thevolume. Some of these effusions might be described as of more thanordinary merit, and the remainder as good, bad, and indifferent. Thosewritten in foreign languages--and there were many of them--we couldneither read nor understand, but they gave us the impression that thefame of John o' Groat's had spread throughout the civilised world. Therewere many references to Stroma, or the Island of the Current, which wecould see in the Pentland Firth about four miles distant, and to thedifficulties and danger the visitors had experienced in crossing that"stormy bit of sea" between it and John o' Groat's. But their chiefcomplaint was that, after travelling so far, there was no house for themto see. They had evidently, like ourselves, expected to find asubstantial structure, and the farther they had travelled the greatertheir disappointment would naturally be. One visitor had expressed hisdisappointment in a verse more forcible than elegant, but true asregarded the stone. 

 I went in a boat To see John o' Groat, The place where his home doth lie; But when I got there, The hill was all bare, And the devil a stone saw I. 

The following entry also appeared in the Album:--

 Elihu Burrit of New Britain, Connecticut, U. S. America, on a walk from Land's End to John o' Groat's, arrived at Huna Inn, upon Monday Sep. 28th, 1863. He visited the site of that famous domicile so celebrated in the world-wide legend for its ingenious construction to promote domestic happiness, and fully realised all he had anticipated in standing on a spot so rich with historical associations and surrounded with such grand and beautiful scenery. He desires also to record his testimony to the hospitality and comfort of the cosy little sea-side Inn, where he was pleasantly housed for the night, and of which he will ever cherish an interesting remembrance. 

_Saturday, September 16th. _

"Now for the shells!" exclaimed my brother, as we awoke early in themorning, for we expected to have a hard day's work before we gatheredshells enough to fill our large baskets. So we hurried on with ourbreakfast, and then, shouldering our hampers, walked quickly along thebeach to the place where we had been informed we should find them. Whenwe got there we saw a sight which surely could not have had its parallelin the British Isles, for the beach was white with them for the greaterpart of two miles. We were greatly astonished, for in some places thebeach was so thickly covered that, had we possessed a shovel, we couldhave filled both our baskets with shells in a very few minutes. Wedecided therefore to select those best suited to our purpose, and weworked away until we had filled both our hampers. We then carried themone at a time to the "Huna Inn, " and arranged with Mr. Mackenzie to havethem carefully packed and delivered to the local carrier to be conveyedby road to the steamboat office at Wick, and thence forwarded by waterto our home, where we knew their contents would be appreciated forrockery purposes. The whole of our operations were completed by noon, instead of occupying the whole of the day as anticipated, for we had agreat advantage in having such an enormous number of shells to selectfrom. Our host told us that farmers occasionally moved them bycart-loads to serve as lime manure on their land. Their accumulation atthat particular spot was a mystery which he could not explain beyond thefact that the shells were washed up from the Pentland Firth during thegreat storms; so we concluded that there must be a land of shell fish inor near that stormy deep, perhaps corresponding with that of the largerfish whose destruction we had seen represented in the Strata of Pomonain the Orkneys. 

[Illustration: ROCKS AT DUNCANSBAY. ]

We must not forget to record, however, that amongst the vast number ofshells we had turned over we found some of those lovely little shellsknown as "John o' Groat's buckies, " so highly prized by visitors. Theywere difficult to find, as they were so very small, but we found quite anumber, and considered them to be perfect little gems, and so verypretty that we reserved them for special presents to our friends. Weafterwards learned that they were known to science as Cyproe Artoca, orEuropean Cowry. 

 * * * * *

An interesting account of John o' Groat's House and the shells waswritten in the year 1698 by the Rev. John Brand, Commissioner of theGeneral Assembly:--

 The landing-place was called John o' Groat's House, the northernmost house in Scotland; the man who now liveth in it and keepeth an inn there is called John Grot, who saith his house hath been in the possession of his predecessors of that name for some hundreds of years; which name of Grot is frequent in Caithness. 

 Upon the sand by John Grot's house are found many small pleasant buckies and shells, beautified by diverse colours, which some use to put upon a string as beads, and account much of their rarity. It is also observed of these shells that not one of them can be found altogether like another, and upon the review of the parcel I had I discovered some difference among them which variety renders them the more beautiful. 

[Illustration: THE STACKS OF DUNCANSBAY. ]

After our midday dinner had partially digested, for we had eaten rathertoo much, we started for Duncansbay Head, following the coast line on anup-gradient until we reached the top, which formed the north-easternextremity of Scotland, and from where we had to start on Monday morning. It was a lonely spot, and we were the only visitors; but we had a livelytime there, as the thousands of wild birds whose homes were in therocks, judging from the loud noises they made as they new about us inendless processions, resented our intrusion into their sacreddomain--hovering around us in every direction. Perhaps they were onlyanxious to ascertain whether we were friends or foes, but we were verymuch interested in their strange movements. They appeared to be mostnumerous on and about two or three perpendicular rocks which rose fromthe sea like pinnacles to a great height. These rocks were named the"Stacks, " or the "Boars of Duncansbay, " their sides and summits beingonly accessible to birds, and forming safe resting and nesting-placesfor them, and on the top of the highest stack the golden-coloured eagleshad for ages reared their young. The "Stacks" might once have formedpart of the headland or of some adjacent island which had been wastedaway by the winds and waves of ages until only these isolated portionsremained, and these were worn into all kinds of crevices and fantasticshapes which impressed us with a sense of their great antiquity. Wewalked along the top of the cliffs, which here presented the appearanceof one vast amphitheatre lined with precipices, with small promontorieshere and there jutting out into the sea resembling fortresses, some ofthem having the ruins of ancient castles crowning their highest points. We could scarcely bring our minds to realise that these were the veryrocks we had seen from the deck of the s. S. _St. Magnus_ only a few dayssince. We had passed through so many scenes, and had had so manyadventures both by night and day since then, that the lapse of timeseemed to us to be more like years than days. We retraced our steps tothe head, and stood there for some time watching the ships far out atsea, trying to distinguish the _St. Magnus_, as it was just about thetime she was again due on her outward journey; but the demands of ourhungry insides were again claiming urgent attention, and so we hastenedour return to the "Huna Inn. " On our way we again encountered theshepherd who had shown us the site of John o' Groat's House, and weinvited him to look us up in the evening, as we were anxious to getfurther information about John and his famous house. "Huna Inn, " inspite of its disadvantages, was quite a romantic place to stay at, as itwas situated almost on the edge of the boiling torrent of the PentlandFirth, which at times was so stormy that the island of Stroma could notbe reached for weeks. 

The "Swalchie, " or whirlpool of Stroma, has been mentioned by manyancient writers, but the most interesting story is that of its origin asgiven in the old Norse legend headed, "Fenja and Menja, " and containinga famous ballad known as the "Grotta Songr, " or the "Mill Song, " grottabeing the Norse for mill, or quern. 

 Odin had a son by name Skjold from whom the Skjoldungs. He had his throne and ruled in the lands that are now called Denmark but were then called Gotland. Skjold had a son by name Fridleif, who ruled the lands after him. Fridleif's son was Frode. He took the kingdom after his father, at the time when the Emperor Augustus established peace in all the earth, and Christ was born. But Frode being the mightiest King in the Northlands, this peace was attributed to him by all who spake the Danish tongue and the Norsemen called it the Peace of Frode. No man injured the other, even though he might meet, loose or in chains, his father's or brother's bane (murderer). There was no thief or robber so that a gold ring would lie a long time on Jalanger's heath. King Frode sent messengers to Sirthjod, to the King whose name was Fjolner, and bought there two maidservants, whose names were Fenja and Menja. They were large and strong. About this time were found in Denmark two millstones so large that no one had the strength to turn them. But the nature belonged to these millstones that they ground whatever was demanded of them by the miller. The name of the mill was Grotte. But the man to whom King Frode gave the mill was called Hengekjapt. King Frode had the maidservants led to the mill and requested them to grind for him gold and peace and Frode's happiness. Then he gave them no longer time to rest or sleep than while the cuckoo was silent or while they sang a song. It is said they sang the song called the "Grotte Song, " and before they ended it they ground out a host against Frode, so that on the same night there came the Sea-King whose name was Mysing and slew Frode and took a large amount of booty. Mysing took with him Grotte and also Fenja and Menja and bade them grind salt, and in the middle of the night they asked Mysing whether he did not have salt enough. He bade them grind more. They ground only a short time longer before the ship sank. But in the ocean arose a whirlpool (maelstrom, mill-stream) in the place where the sea runs into the mill-eye: the Swalchie of Stroma. 

The story "Why is the sea salt?" or "How the sea became salt, " hasappeared in one form or another among many nations of the world, andnaturally appealed strongly to the imagination of the youth of amaritime nation like England. The story as told formerly amongstschoolboys was as follows:

 Jack had decided to go to sea, but before doing so he went to see his fairy godmother, who had a strange looking old coffee-mill on the mantelshelf in her kitchen. She set the table for tea without anything on it to eat or drink, and then, taking down the old mill, placed it on the table and asked it to grind each article she required. After the tea-pot had been filled, Jack was anxious for something to eat, and said he would like some teacakes, so his fairy godmother said to the mill:

 "Mill! Mill! grind away. Buttered tea-cakes now I pray!"

 for she knew Jack liked plenty of butter on his cakes, and out they came from the mill until the plate was well filled, and then she said:

 "Mill! Mill! rest thee now, Thou hast ground enough I trow, "

 and immediately the mill stopped grinding. When Jack told her he was going away on a ship to sea, his fairy godmother made him a present of the old mill, which he would find useful, as it would grind anything he asked it to; but he must be careful to use the same words that he had heard her speak both in starting and stopping the mill. When he got to the ship, he stored the old mill carefully in his box, and had almost forgotten it when as they neared the country they were bound for the ship ran short of potatoes, so Jack told the Captain he would soon find him some, and ran for his mill, which he placed on the deck of the ship, and said to it:

 "Mill! Mill! grind away, Let us have some potatoes I pray!"

 and immediately the potatoes began to roll out of the mill and over the deck, to the great astonishment and delight of the sailors, who had fine fun gathering them up. Then Jack said to the mill:

 "Mill! Mill! rest thee now, Thou hast ground enough I trow, "

 and immediately the mill ceased grinding. 

 The Captain determined to get the mill from Jack, who would not part with it, and tried to steal it, but did not succeed, and when they reached the port, Jack took the mill ashore with him, and rented a shop that happened to be empty, and had a sign-board placed over it with the words painted in large letters, "All sorts of things supplied here on the shortest notice, " and he soon got a pile of money, the last order being one from the King, who wanted clothing for his soldiers in a hurry, as war had broken out unexpectedly. Jack's good fortune was soon heard of by the Captain, and when his ship was ready to sail he contrived to get one of his friends to invite Jack to a party that evening, and then with the help of some of his crew he broke into the shop and stole the old mill. 

 When Jack returned in the morning his mill was gone, and he could just see the sails of the ship far out at sea. But he did not care much, as he had now money enough to keep himself for many years. Meantime the Captain in his hurry to get away had forgotten to bring some things that were wanted, and when he found they had no salt on board, he brought the old mill on deck, and said:

 "Mill! Mill! grind away Let us have some salt I pray, "

 and immediately the mill began to grind salt at a great speed and presently covered the deck all round where it was working, but the Captain had forgotten the words spoken by Jack when he stopped the mill, and though he used all the words he could think of, the mill kept on grinding, and was rapidly filling every available space on the deck. The Captain then ran to his cabin and brought out his sword, and with a terrific blow he cut the mill in halves; but each piece formed itself into a mill, and both mills continued grinding until the ship sank to the bottom of the sea, where the mills are still grinding in the terrible Swalchie of Stroma, and that is why the water in the sea is salt!

There had been a ferry at John o' Groat's years before our visit, andmails and passengers had been carried across the Firth to and from theOrkney Islands, the distance across being shorter from this point thanfrom any other in Scotland; but for some unexplained reason the servicehad been discontinued, and the presence of the ferry would probablyaccount for so many names being written in the album. The day wasalready drawing to a close as we sat down to tea and the good thingsprovided by Mrs. Mackenzie, and we were waited upon by a Scotch lassie, who wore neither shoes nor stockings; but this we found was nothingunusual in the north of Scotland in those days. After tea we adjournedto our room, and sat down in front of our peat fire; but ourconversational powers soon exhausted themselves, for we felt uncommonlydrowsy after having been exposed so long to the open air. We sat theresilently watching the curling smoke as it went up the chimney anddreamily gazing into the caverns which had been formed in the firebelow, imagining that we could see all kinds of weird objects therein, and then we thought of the times when we should not have been able torest so securely and comfortably in the "Huna Inn, " when one Scottishclan was trying to exterminate another not so far away from where wewere then sitting, for no more apparent reason than that the Scots wereborn soldiers, and if they had no foreigners to fight they must fightamong themselves. We must have been nearly asleep when our reveries wereinterrupted by the entrance of the shepherd, whom for the moment we hadentirely forgotten. He had come in response to our invitation to talkwith us about things in general, but particularly about John o' Groat, and we were glad to see him, and we now give--

 THE SHEPHERD'S STORY

 John o' Groat was a fisherman belonging to Holland who was caught when at sea in a great storm which damaged his sails so that his boat drifted almost helplessly across the sea. When he came in sight of the Scottish coast he was carried with the current into the Pentland Firth, and as he could not repair the sails in the boat and could not get back to Holland with them in their damaged condition, he decided to land on one of the islands and repair them on shore. His wife was very much opposed to his landing on Stroma, as she thought it was a desert island, so he got his boat across from there to the Scottish coast; but when he attempted to land at Huna, the natives opposed his landing, for they thought he was a pirate. Fortunately for him he had a few kegs of gin in his boat, and when the canny Scots saw these they became more friendly, especially as they had a great respect for Holland's gin, and so they allowed him to land, and even helped him to mend his sails. They afterwards allowed him to settle amongst them on condition that he did not attempt to go into the interior of the country, and that he built his house on the seashore. He got on well amongst his new friends, and in time became their chief and had eight sons, and on one festive occasion, when they all came to see him, they quarrelled as to which should have precedence at his table, so John told them that the next time they came he would have matters so arranged as to avoid that kind of thing in the future. He therefore built an entirely new house with eight sides to it and a door in each, and made a table inside of the same octagonal shape, so that when they came to see him again each of them could enter by his own door and sit at his own head of the table. 

In reply to our questions the shepherd said he thought this eventhappened about 350 years ago, but the house had long since disappeared, and only the site of the foundations which he had shown us previouslynow remained. He also said that heaps of ladies and gentlemen came thereto picnic on the site, and he had seen them take even small stones away;but though he had lived there for fifty years, he had never seen John o'Groat's any different from what it was now. We asked him why John didnot return to Holland, and he said it was because he had a letter fromthe king. We thanked the shepherd for his story, and, having suitablyrewarded him, bade him farewell and hurried off to bed in the fadinglight of our rapidly diminishing candle. 

_Sunday, September 17th. _

The strict observance of the Sabbath Day in Scotland was to us a mostpleasing feature in Scottish life, and one to which we had beenaccustomed from early childhood, so we had no desire to depart from itnow. We were, therefore, very pleased when Mr. And Mrs. Mackenzieinvited us to accompany them to the Free Kirk service, and, as half-pastten o'clock was the time fixed for our departure from the inn, weconcluded that the kirk could not be far away, as that was the hour thatservice began in our village church in Cheshire, but we could notremember seeing any kirk in the neighbourhood of the "Huna Inn. " Wecontinued walking one mile after another for more than an hour, and musthave walked quite four miles before we came in sight of the kirk, and wewere then informed that the service did not commence until twelveo'clock! The country through which we passed was very bare, there beinga total absence of hedges and trees, so we could see people comingtowards the kirk from every direction. Everybody seemed to knoweverybody else, and, as they came nearer the sacred enclosure, theyformed themselves into small groups and stood conversing with eachother, chiefly on religious matters, until the minister arrived to takecharge of his flock. He was a quaintly dressed and rather elderly man, evidently well known, as he had a nod or a smile of recognition and afriendly word for all. We followed him into the kirk, where we foundourselves in the presence of quite a large congregation, and sat withMr. And Mrs. Mackenzie in their own pew in the rear of the kirk. Theform of the service was quite different from that to which we had beenaccustomed. The congregation stood up while they prayed and sat downwhile they sang the Psalms, with the exception of one man, who remainedstanding in what we thought was the clerk's desk immediately below thepulpit. This man acted as leader of the singing, but he failed to getmuch assistance from the people, and had great difficulty in keeping thesinging going. Possibly the failure of the congregational singing mightbe accounted for by the absence of an organ or other instrument of musicto assist and encourage the people to sing, the nearest approach toanything of the kind being the tuning-fork which the conductor held inhis hand. There was also the fact that the sitting posture was not thebest position for bringing out the powers of the human voice; but wecame to the conclusion that music was not looked upon favourably in thatremote part of Scotland. 

In front of the pulpit there was an enclosure, fenced in by thecommunion rail, and inside this were seated the elders, or deacons ofthe church. These were very old men with bent heads and white hair, andhad the appearance of centenarians; they were indeed thequeerest-looking group of old men we had ever seen assembled together. But it was their noses that chiefly attracted our attention, as theywere so very long and crooked, and the strange feature about them wasthat they were all of the same pattern. Their only rival, as far as wecould see, in length of nose was the minister, but we thought he hadenlarged his by artificial means, as we found to our surprise that hewas addicted to snuff-taking, a habit very prevalent in Scotland inthose days. 

Then came the sermon. On the pulpit was the Bible, and beside it asubstantial box of snuff, to which the minister resorted occasionally inthe course of his long discourse. His pinches must have beenconsiderable, for every sniff lasted from two to three seconds, andcould be heard distinctly all over the kirk. This had a tendency todistract our attention from his sermon, which, by the way, was a verygood one; but, owing to his rather slow delivery, we experienced afeeling of relief when he reached the end, for it had lasted quite anhour. 

There was now a slight movement amongst the congregation, which weinterpreted as a sign that the service was at an end, and we rose toleave; but, imagine our consternation when our friends told us that whatwe had listened to was only the first part of the service, and that wemust on no account leave, as the second part was to follow immediately. We therefore remained not altogether unwillingly, for we were curious toknow what the next service was like. It proved to be almost exactly thesame as the first, and we could not distinguish much difference betweenthe two sermons; but we listened attentively, and were convinced thatthe preacher was a thoroughly conscientious man in spite of hisoccasional long sniffs of snuff, which were continued as before, butwhat astonished us was that the old gentleman never once sneezed! Itwas the most remarkable service we had ever attended, and it concludedexactly at three o'clock, having lasted three hours. 

We had then to retrace our four-mile walk to "Huna Inn, " but the milesseemed rather longer, as Mrs. Mackenzie could only walk in a leisurelymanner and we were feeling very hungry. We whiled away the time bytalking about the sermons and the snuff, but chiefly about the deaconsand their wonderful noses, and why they were all alike and so strangelycrooked. Mr. Mackenzie suggested that they were crooked because if theyhad grown straight they would have projected over their mouths andprevented them from eating, the crook in them being a provision ofnature to avoid this; or, they might have descended from the Romans orsome other ancient race who had formerly inhabited the coast of thatpart of Scotland. Books had been written and sermons preached aboutnoses, and the longer the nose the greater the intellect of the ownerwas supposed to be. We told our host that there was only one-sixteenthpart of an inch between the length of Napoleon's nose and that ofWellington's. We had forgotten which was the longer, but as Wellington'swas so conspicuous that he was nicknamed "Nosey" by his troops, and ashe had won the great battle of Waterloo, we concluded that it was his, and gave him the benefit of the doubt. We quoted the following lines:

 Knows he, that never took a pinch, Nosey, the pleasure thence that flows? Knows he the titillating joy Which my nose knows? O Nose, I am as proud of thee As any mountain of its snows; I gaze on thee, and feel that pride A Roman knows. 

Our host confided to us the reason why he was so anxious that we shouldnot leave in the middle of the service. The second service wasoriginally intended for those who had to come long distances to reachthe kirk, some of whom came from a place seven miles away, but in lateyears the two services had become continuous. A few Sundays before ourvisit some persons had left the kirk at the end of the first part, andin his second sermon the minister had plainly described them asfollowers of the Devil! so we supposed our host was anxious that weshould not be denounced in the same way. 

We found our tea-dinner waiting our arrival at the inn. We sat down toit at half-past four, and, as we rose from what was left of it at fiveo'clock, having worked hard meanwhile, we may safely be credited withhaving done our duty. 

We had a walk with our host along the shore, and had not proceeded farbefore we saw a dark-looking object some distance away in the sea. Wethought it looked like a man in a boat, rising and falling with thewaves, but Mr. Mackenzie told us that it was two whales following theherrings that were travelling in shoals round the coasts. We were verymuch interested in their strange movements, as they were the onlywhales we ever saw alive, but we could not help feeling sorry for thefish. Evening was coming on as we re-entered "Huna Inn, " and when wewere again seated before our turf fire, joined by our host and hostess, our conversation was chiefly on the adventures we had already had, thegreat walk we were to begin on the morrow, and the pleasure it had givenus to see the manifest and steadfast determination of the people at thekirk to observe the Commandment of the God of the Sabbath, "REMEMBERTHAT THOU KEEP HOLY THE SABBATH DAY. " We wondered how much theprosperity of the Scottish nation and its representatives in every partof the "wide, wide world" was attributable to their strict observance ofthe Sabbath. Who knows?

WE BEGIN OUR JOURNEY

_Monday, September 18th. _

We rose early and walked along the beach to Duncansbay Head, or Rongisbyas the old maps have it, gathering a few of those charming little shellscalled John o'Groat Buckies by the way. After walking round the site ofJohn o'Groat's house, we returned to our comfortable quarters at theHuna Inn for breakfast. John o'Groat seems to have acted with morewisdom than many entrusted with the affairs of a nation. When his sonsquarrelled for precedence at his table, he consoled them with thepromise that when the next family gathering took place the matter shouldbe settled to the satisfaction of all. During the interval he built ahouse having eight sides, each with a door and window, with an octagonaltable in the centre so that each of his eight sons could enter at hisown door and sit at his own side or "head" of the table. By thisarrangement--which reminded us of King Arthur's use of his roundtable--he dispelled the animosity which previously prevailed. Afterbreakfast, and in the presence of Mr. And Mrs. Mackenzie, we made anentry in the famous Album with name and address, object of journey, andexact time of departure, and they promised to reserve a space beneaththe entry to record the result, which was to be posted to themimmediately we reached our journey's end. 

[Illustration: JOHN O'GROAT'S HOUSE. ]

It was about half-past ten o'clock when we started on our long walkalong a circuitous and unknown route from John o'Groat's to Land's End. Our host and hostess stood watching our departure and waving adieuxuntil we disappeared in the distance. We were in high spirits, and soonreached the junction of roads where we turned to the left towards Wick. The first part of our walk was through the Parish of Canisbay, in theancient records of which some reference is made to the more recentrepresentatives of the Groat family, but as these were made two hundredyears ago, they were now almost illegible. Our road lay through a wildmoorland district with a few farms and cottages here and there, mainlyoccupied by fishermen. There were no fences to the fields or roads, andno bushes or trees, and the cattle were either herded or tied to stakes. 

After passing through Canisbay, we arrived at the most northerly housein the Parish of Wick, formerly a public-house, and recognised as thehalf-way house between Wick and John o'Groat's. We found it occupied asa farm by Mr. John Nicolson, and here we saw the skeleton of a whaledoing duty as a garden fence. The dead whale, seventy feet in length, had been found drifting in the sea, and had been hauled ashore by thefishermen. Mr. Nicolson had an ingenious son, who showed us a workingsun-dial in the garden in front of the house which he had constructedout of a portion of the backbone, and in the same bone he had alsoformed a curious contrivance by which he could tell the day of themonth. He told us he was the only man that studied painting in theNorth, and invited us into the house, wherein several rooms he showed ussome of his paintings, which were really excellent considering they wereexecuted in ordinary wall paint. His mother informed us that he began tostudy drawing when he was ill with a slow fever, but not bed-fast. Twoof the pictures, that of an old bachelor and a Scotch lassie, a servant, were very good indeed. We also saw a picture of an old woman, a localcelebrity, about a hundred years old, which was considered to be anexcellent likeness, and showed the old lady's eyes so sunk in her headas to be scarcely visible. We considered that we had here found one ofNature's artists, who would probably have made a name for himself ifgiven the advantages so many have who lack the ability, for he certainlypossessed both the imaginative faculty and no small degree of dexterityin execution. He pointed out to us the house of a farmer over the waywho slept in the Parish of Wick and took his meals in that of Canisbay, the boundary being marked by a chimney in the centre of the roof. Healso informed us that his brother accompanied Elihu Burritt, theAmerican blacksmith, for some distance when he walked from London toJohn o'Groat's. 

We were now about eleven miles from Wick, and as Mr. Nicolson told us ofan old castle we had missed, we turned back across the moors for about amile and a half to view it. He warned us that we might see a manbelonging to the neighbourhood who was partly insane, and who, roamingamongst the castle ruins, usually ran straight towards any strangers asif to do them injury; but if we met him we must not be afraid, as he wasperfectly harmless. We had no desire to meet a madman, and luckily, although we kept a sharp look-out, we did not see him. We found theruined castle resting on a rock overlooking the sea with the rollingwaves dashing on its base below; it was connected with the mainland by avery narrow strip broken through in one place, and formerly crossed by adrawbridge. As this was no longer available, it was somewhat difficultto scale the embankment opposite; still we scrambled up and passedtriumphantly through the archway into the ruins, not meeting with thatresistance we fancied we should have done in the days of its daringowner. A portion only of the tower remained, as the other part hadfallen about two years before our visit. The castle, so traditionstated, had been built about the year 1100 by one Buchollie, a famouspirate, who owned also another castle somewhere in the Orkneys. How mencould carry on such an unholy occupation amidst such dangeroussurroundings was a mystery to us. 

[Illustration: MR. NICOLSON'S HOME, SHOWING THE ARCH OF WHALE'S JAW. ]

On our return we again saw our friend Mr. Nicolson, who told us therewere quite a number of castles in Caithness, as well as Pictish fortsand Druidical circles, a large proportion of the castles lying along thecoast we were traversing. He gave us the names of some of them, and toldus that they materially enhanced the beauty of this rock-bound coast. Healso described to us a point of the coast near Ackergill, which weshould pass, where the rocks formed a remarkably perfect profile of theGreat Duke of Wellington, though others spoke of it as a black giant. Itcould only be seen from the sea, but was marvellously correct andlife-like, and of gigantic proportions. 

Acting on Mr. Nicolson's instructions, we proceeded along the beach toKeiss Castle, and ascended to its second storey by means of a rusticladder. It was apparently of a more recent date than Buchollie, and agreater portion of it remained standing. A little to the west of it wesaw another and more modern castle, one of the seats of the Duke ofPortland, who, we were told, had never yet visited it. Before reachingthe village of Keiss, we came to a small quay, where we stayed a shorttime watching the fishermen getting their smacks ready before sailingout to sea, and then we adjourned to the village inn, where we wereprovided with a first-class tea, for which we were quite ready. Thepeople at the inn evidently did not think their business inconsistentwith religion, for on the walls of the apartment where we had our teawere hanging two pictures of a religious character, and a motto "Offerunto God thanksgiving, " and between them a framed advertisement of"Edinburgh Ales"!

After tea we continued our journey until we came to the last house inthe village of Keiss, a small cottage on the left-hand side of the road, and here we called to inspect a model of John o'Groat's house, which hadbeen built by a local stonemason, and exhibited at the great Exhibitionin London in 1862. Its skilful builder became insane soon after he hadfinished it, and shortly afterwards died. It was quite a palatial modeland much more handsome than its supposed original was ever likely tohave been. It had eight doors with eight flights of steps leading up tothem, and above were eight towers with watchmen on them, and inside thehouse was a table with eight sides made from wood said to have been fromthe original table in the house of Groat, and procured from one of hisdescendants. The model was accompanied by a ground plan and a print ofthe elevation taken from a photo by a local artist. There was no chargefor admission or for looking at the model, but a donation left with thefatherless family was thankfully received. 

We now walked for miles along the seashore over huge sand-hills withfine views of the herring-boats putting out to sea. We counted fifty-sixin one fleet, and the number would have been far greater had not NossHead intervened to obstruct our view, as many more went out that nightfrom Wick, although the herring season was now nearly over. We passedAckergill Tower, the residence of Sir George Dunbar, and about two milesfarther on we came to two old castles quite near to each other, whichwere formerly the strongholds of the Earls of Caithness. They were namedGirnigoe and Sinclair. Girnigoe was the oldest, and under the ruins ofthe keep was a dismal dungeon. 

It was now getting dark, and not the pleasantest time to view oldcastles surrounded by black rocks with the moan of the sea as it invadedthe chasms of the rocks on which they stood. Amongst these lonely ruinswe spoke of the past, for had our visit been three centuries earlier, the dismal sounds from the sea below would have mingled with those fromthe unfortunate young man chained up in that loathsome dungeon, whoseonly light came from a small hole high up in the wall. Such was John, Master of Caithness, the eldest son of the fifth Sinclair, Earl ofCaithness, who is said to have been imprisoned here because he had wooedand won the affections of the daughter of a neighbouring laird, markedout by his father, at that time a widower, for himself. He was confinedin that old dungeon for more than six long years before death releasedhim from his inhuman parent. 

During his imprisonment John had three keepers appointed overhim--Murdoch Roy and two brothers named Ingram and David Sinclair. Royattended him regularly, and did all the menial work, as the other twokeepers were kinsmen of the earl, his father, who had imprisoned him. Roy was sorry for the unfortunate nobleman, and arranged a plot to sethim at liberty, which was unfortunately discovered by John's brotherWilliam, who bore him no good will. William told his father, the earl, who immediately ordered Roy to be executed. The poor wretch wasaccordingly brought out and hanged on the common gibbet of the castlewithout a moment being allowed him to prepare for his final account. 

Soon afterwards, in order to avenge the death of Roy, John, who was aman of great bodily strength and whose bad usage and long imprisonmenthad affected his mind, managed to seize his brother William on theoccasion of his visit to the dungeon and strangle him. This onlydeepened the earl's antipathy towards his unhappy son, and his keeperswere encouraged to put him to death. The plan adopted was such as couldonly have entered the imagination of fiends, for they withheld food fromtheir prisoner for the space of five days, and then set before him apiece of salt beef of which he ate voraciously. Soon after, when hecalled for water, they refused to give him any, and he died of ragingthirst. Another account said they gave him brandy, of which he drank socopiously that he died raving mad. In any case, there is no doubtwhatever that he was barbarously done to death. 

[Illustration: GIRNIGOE CASTLE. ]

Every castle along the seacoast had some story of cruelty connected withit, but the story of Girnigoe was perhaps the worst of all, and we wereglad to get away from a place with such dismal associations. 

About a hundred years after this sad event the Clan of the Campbells ofGlenorchy declared war on the Sinclairs of Keiss, and marched intoCaithness to meet them; but the Sinclairs instead of going out to meetthem at the Ord of Caithness, a naturally fortified position, stayed athome, and the Campbells took up a strong position at Altimarloch, abouttwo miles from Wick. The Sinclairs spent the night before the battledrinking and carousing, and then attacked the Campbells in the strongposition they had taken up, with the result that the Sinclairs wererouted and many of them perished. 

 They meet, they close in deadly strife, But brief the bloody fray; Before the Campbells' furious charge The Caithness ranks give way. 

 The shrieking mother wrung her hands, The maiden tore her hair, And all was lamentation loud, And terror, and despair. 

It was commonly said that the well-known quicksteps, "The Campbells arecoming" and the "Braes of Glenorchy" obtained their names from thisraid. 

The Sinclairs of Keiss were a powerful and warlike family, and they soonregained their position. It was a pleasing contrast to note that in 1765Sir William Sinclair of Keiss had laid aside his sword, embracing theviews held by the Baptists, and after being baptized in London becamethe founder of that denomination in Caithness and a well-known preacherand writer of hymns. 

In his younger days he was in the army, where he earned fame as anexpert swordsman, his fame in that respect spreading throughout thecountryside. Years after he had retired from the service, while sittingin his study one forenoon intently perusing a religious work, his valetannounced the arrival of a stranger who wished to see him. The servantwas ordered to show him into the apartment, and in stalked a strongmuscular-looking man with a formidable Andrea Ferrara sword hanging byhis side, and, making a low obeisance, he thus addressed the knight:

"Sir William, I hope you will pardon my intrusion. I am a native ofEngland and a professional swordsman. In the course of my travelsthrough Scotland, I have not yet met with a gentleman able to cope withme in the noble science of swordsmanship. Since I came to Caithness Ihave heard that you are an adept with my favourite weapon, and I havecalled to see if you would do me the honour to exchange a few passeswith me just in the way of testing our respective abilities. "

Sir William was both amused and astonished at this extraordinaryrequest, and replied that he had long ago thrown aside the sword, and, except in case of necessity, never intended to use it any more. But thestranger would take no denial, and earnestly insisted that he wouldfavour him with a proof of his skill. 

"Very well, " said Sir William, "to please you I shall do so, " and, rising and fetching his sword, he desired the stranger, who was anugly-looking fellow, to draw and defend himself. After a pass or two SirWilliam, with a dexterous stroke, cut off a button from the vest of hisopponent. 

"Will that satisfy you, " inquired Sir William; "or shall I go a littledeeper and draw blood?"

"Oh, I am perfectly satisfied, " said the other. "I find I have for oncemet a gentleman who knows how to handle his sword. "

In about half a mile after leaving the ruins of these old castles we sawthe Noss Head Lighthouse, with its powerful light already flashing overthe darkening seas, and we decided to visit it. We had to scale severalfences, and when we got there we found we had arrived long after theauthorised hours for the admission of visitors. We had therefore somedifficulty in gaining an entrance, as the man whose attention we hadattracted did not at first understand why we could not come again thenext day. When we explained the nature of our journey, he kindlyadmitted us through the gate. The lighthouse and its surroundings werescrupulously clean, and if we had been Her Majesty's Inspectors ofLighthouses, if such there be, we could not have done otherwise thanreport favourably of our visit. The attendants were very kind to us, oneof them accompanying us to the top, and as the lighthouse was 175 feethigh, we had a great number of steps to climb. We had never seen theinterior of a lighthouse before, and were greatly interested in thewonderful mechanism by which the flashlight was worked. We were muchimpressed by the incalculable value of these national institutions, especially in such dangerous positions as we knew from experienceprevailed on those stormy coasts. We were highly delighted with ournovel adventure, and, after regaining the entrance, we walked brisklyaway; but it was quite dark before we had covered the three miles thatseparated the lighthouse from the fishery town of Wick. Here we procuredsuitable lodgings, and then hurried to the post office for the lettersthat waited us, which we were delighted to read, for it seemed agessince we left home. 

(_Distance walked twenty-five miles_. )

[Illustration: NOSS HEAD LIGHTHOUSE. ]

_Tuesday, September 19th. _

We had our first experience of a herring breakfast, and were surprisedto find how delicious they tasted when absolutely fresh. There was anold proverb in Wick: "When the herrings come in, the doctors go out!"which may indicate that these fish had some medicinal value; but morelikely the saying referred to the period of plenty following that ofwant and starvation. We went down to the quay and had a talk with someof the fishermen whom we met returning from their midnight labours. They told us they had not caught many herrings that night, but that theseason generally had been a good one, and they would have money enoughto support themselves through the coming winter. There were about ninehundred boats in the district, and sometimes over a thousand, allemployed in the fishing industry; each boat was worked by four men andone boy, using nets 850 yards long. The herrings appeared about thesecond week in August and remained until the end of September, but thewhales swallowed barrels of them at one "jow. "

We called at the steamboat depot and found that our hampers of shellshad already arrived, and would be sent forward on the _St. Magnus_; nextwe went to get our hair and beards trimmed by the Wick barber. He was acurious old gentleman and quite an orator, and even at that early hourhad one customer in hand while another was waiting to be shaved, so wehad of course to wait our turn. The man who was waiting began to expresshis impatience in rather strong language, but the barber was quite equalto the occasion, and in the course of a long and eloquent oration, whilehe was engaged with the customer he had in hand, he told him that whenhe came into a barber's shop he should have the calmness of mind to lookquietly around and note the sublimity of the place, which ought to besufficient to enable him to overcome such signs of impatience as he hadexhibited. We were quite sure that the barber's customer did notunderstand one-half the big words addressed to him, but they had thedesired effect, and he waited patiently until his turn came to beshaved. He was a dark-complexioned seafaring man, and had evidently justreturned from a long sea voyage, as the beard on his chin was more likethe bristles on a blacking-brush, and the operation of removing themmore like mowing than shaving. When completed, the barber held out hishand for payment. The usual charge must have been a penny, for that wasthe coin he placed in the barber's hand. But it was now the barber'sturn. Drawing himself up to his full height, with a dignified butscornful expression on his face, he pointed with his razor to the pennyhe held in his other hand, which remained open, and exclaimed fiercely, "This! for a month's shave!" Another penny was immediately added, andhis impatient customer quickly and quietly departed. 

It was now our turn for beard and hair trimming, but we had been so muchamused at some of the words used by the barber that, had it not been forhis awe-inspiring look, the scissors he now held in his hand, and therazors that were so near to us, we should have failed to suppress ourlaughter. The fact was that the shop was the smallest barber'sestablishment we had ever patronised, and the dingiest-looking littleplace imaginable, the only light being from a very small window at theback of the shop. To apply the words sublime and sublimity to a placelike this was ludicrous in the extreme. It was before this window thatwe sat while our hair was being cut; but as only one side of the headcould be operated upon at once, owing to the scanty light, we had to sitbefore it sideways, and then to reverse our position. 

We have heard it said that every man's hair has a stronger growth on oneside of his head than the other, but whether this barber left more hairon the strong side or not we did not know. In any case, the differencebetween the two sides, both of hair and beard, after the barber'soperation was very noticeable. The only sublime thing about the shop wasthe barber himself, and possibly he thought of himself when speaking ofits sublimity. He was a well-known character in Wick, and if his lot hadbeen cast in a more expansive neighbourhood he might have filled a muchhigher position. He impressed us very much, and had we visited Wickagain we should certainly have paid him a complimentary visit. We thenpurchased a few prints of the neighbourhood at Mr. Johnston's shop, andwere given some information concerning the herring industry. It appearedthat this industry was formerly in the hands of the Dutch, who exploitedthe British coasts as well as their own, for the log of the _Dutillet_, the ship which brought Prince Charles Edward to Scotland in 1745, records that on August 25th it joined two Dutch men-of-war and a fleetof herring craft off Rongisby. 

[Illustration: OLD MAN OF WICK. ]

In the early part of the fourteenth century there arose a large demandfor this kind of fish by Roman Catholics both in the British Isles andon the Continent. The fish deserted the Baltic and new herring fieldswere sought, while it became necessary to find some method of preservingthem. The art of curing herrings was discovered by a Dutchman namedBaukel. Such was the importance attached to this discovery that theEmperor Charles V caused a costly memorial to be erected over his graveat Biervlet. The trade remained in the hands of the Dutch for a longtime, and the cured herrings were chiefly shipped to Stettin, and thenceto Spain and other Roman Catholic countries, large profits being made. In 1749, however, a British Fishery Society was established, and abounty of £50 offered on every ton of herrings caught. In 1803 an expertDutchman was employed to superintend the growing industry, and from 1830Wick took the lead in the herring industry, which in a few years' timeextended all round the coasts, the piles of herring-barrels along thequay at Wick making a sight worth seeing. 

We had not gone far when we turned aside to visit the ruins of WickCastle, which had been named by the sailors "The Auld Man o'Wick. " Itwas built like most of the others we had seen, on a small promontoryprotected by the sea on three sides, but there were two crevices in therock up which the sea was rushing with terrific force. The rock on whichits foundations rested we estimated to be about 150 feet high, and therewas only a narrow strip of land connecting it with the mainland. Thesolitary tower that remained standing was about fifty feet high, andapparently broader at the top than at the bottom, being about ten ortwelve yards in length and breadth, with the walls six or seven feetthick. The roar of the water was like the sound of distant thunder, lending a melancholy charm to the scene. It was from here that weobtained our first land view of those strange-looking hills in Caithnesscalled by the sailors, from their resemblance to the breasts of amaiden, the Maiden's Paps. An old man directed us the way to Lybster bywhat he called the King's Highway, and looking back from this point wehad a fine view of the town of Wick and its surroundings. 

Taught by past experience, we had provided ourselves with a speciallyconstructed apparatus for tea-making, with a flask to fit inside tocarry milk, and this we used many times during our journey through theHighlands of Scotland. We also carried a reserve stock of provisions, since we were often likely to be far away from any human habitation. To-day was the first time we had occasion to make use of it, and we hadour lunch not in the room of an inn, but sitting amongst the heatherunder the broad blue canopy of heaven. It was a gloriously fine day, butnot a forerunner of a fine day on the morrow, as after events showed. Wehad purchased six eggs at a farmhouse, for which we were only chargedfourpence, and with a half-pound of honey and an enormous oatmealcake--real Scotch--we had a jovial little picnic and did not fare badly. We had many a laugh at the self-satisfied sublimity of our friend thebarber, but the sublimity here was real, surrounded as we were bymagnificent views of the distant hills, and through the clear air wecould see the mountains on the other side of the Moray Firth probablyfifty miles distant. Our road was very hilly, and devoid of fences ortrees or other objects to obstruct our view, so much so that at onepoint we could see two milestones, the second before we reached thefirst. 

We passed Loch Hempriggs on the right of our road, with Iresgoe and itsNeedle on the seacoast to the left, also an old ruin which we wereinformed was a "tulloch, " but we did not know the meaning of the word. After passing the tenth milestone from Wick, we went to look at anancient burial-ground which stood by the seaside about a field's breadthfrom our road. The majority of the gravestones were very old, andwhatever inscriptions they ever had were now worn away by age andweather; some were overgrown with grass and nettles, while in contrastto these stood some modern stones of polished granite. The inscriptionson these stones were worded differently from those places farther south. The familiar words "Sacred to the memory of" did not appear, and thephrasing appeared rather in the nature of a testimonial to thebenevolence of the bereft. We copied two of the inscriptions:

 ERECTED BY ROBERT WALLACE, MERCHANT, LYBSTER, TO THE MEMORY OF HIS SPOUSE CHARLLOT SIMPSON WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE NOV. 21 1845 AGED 30 YEARS. _Lovely in Life_. 

 PLACED BY JOHN SUTHERLAND, FISHERMAN, LYBSTER, IN MEMORY OF HIS WIFE WILLIAMINIA POLSON WHO DIED 28TH MAY 1867 AGED 29 YEARS. _At Death still lovely_. 

In the yard we noticed a large number of loose stones and the remains ofa wall which we supposed had been part of the kirk. The name of thevillage near here was Mid Clyth, and the ruins those of an old RomanCatholic chapel last used about four hundred years ago. Several attemptshad been made to obtain power to remove the surplus stones, but ourinformant stated that although they had only about a dozen Romanists inthe county, they were strong enough to prevent this being done, and itwas the only burial-ground between there and Wick. He also told us thatthere were a thousand volunteers in Caithness. 

[Illustration: THE NEEDLE OF IRESGOE. ]

The people in the North of Caithness in directing us on our way did nottell us to turn to right or left, but towards the points of thecompass--say to the east or the west as the case might be, and then turnsouth for a given number of chains. This kind of information ratherpuzzled us, as we had no compass, nor did we know the length of a chain. It seemed to point back to a time when there were no roads at all inthat county. We afterwards read that Pennant, the celebrated tourist, when visiting Caithness in 1769, wrote that at that time there was nota single cart, nor mile of road properly so called in the county. Hedescribed the whole district as little better than an "immense morass, with here and there some fruitful spots of oats and bere (barley), andmuch coarse grass, almost all wild, there being as yet very littlecultivated. " And he goes on to add:

 Here are neither barns nor granaries; the corn is thrashed out and preserved in the chaff in bykes, which are stacks in the shape of beehives thatched quite round. The tender sex (I blush for the Caithnessians) are the only animals of burden; they turn their patient backs to the dunghills and receive in their cassties or straw baskets as much as their lords and masters think fit to fling in with their pitchforks, and then trudge to the fields in droves. 

A more modern writer, however, thought that Pennant must have beenobservant but not reflective, and wrote:

 It is not on the sea coast that woman looks on man as lord and master. The fishing industry more than any other leads to great equality between the sexes. The man is away and the woman conducts all the family affairs on land. Home means all the comfort man can enjoy! His life is one persistent calling for self-reliance and independence and equally of obedience to command. 

The relations Pennant quoted were not of servility, but of man assistingwoman to do what she regarded as her natural work. 

To inland folk like ourselves it was a strange sight to see so manywomen engaged in agricultural pursuits, but we realised that the men hadbeen out fishing in the sea during the night and were now in bed. We sawone woman mowing oats with a scythe and another following her, gatheringthem up and binding them into sheaves, while several others were cuttingdown the oats with sickles; we saw others driving horses attached tocarts. The children, or "bairns, " as they were called here, wore neithershoes nor stockings, except a few of the very young ones, and all thearable land was devoted to the culture of oats and turnips. 

We passed through Lybster, which in Lancashire would only be regarded asa small village, but here was considered to be a town, as it could boastof a population of about eight hundred people. We made due note of ourreaching what was acknowledged to be the second plantation of trees inthe county; there were six only in the entire county of Caithness, andeven a sight like this was cheery in these almost treeless regions. 

An elderly and portly-looking gentleman who was on the road in front ofus awaited our arrival, and as an introduction politely offered us apinch of snuff out of his well-filled snuff-box, which we accepted. Wetried to take it, but the application of a small portion to our nosescaused us to sneeze so violently that the gentleman roared with laughterat our expense, and was evidently both surprised and amused at ourdistress. We were soon good friends, however, and he was as pleased withour company as we were with his, but we accepted no more pinches ofsnuff in Scotland. He had many inquiries to make about the method offarming in Cheshire and regarding the rotation of crops. We informedhim that potatoes were the first crop following grass grown in ourneighbourhood, followed by wheat in the next year, and oats and cloverafterwards--the clover being cut for two years. "And how many yearsbefore wheat again?" he asked; but this question we could not answer, aswe were not sufficiently advanced in agricultural knowledge to undergo avery serious examination from one who was evidently inclined to divedeeply into the subject. As we walked along, we noticed a stone on theslope of a mountain like those we had seen at Stenness in the Orkneys, but no halo of interest could be thrown around it by our friend, whosimply said it had been there "since the world began. " Near Lybster wehad a good view of the Ord of Caithness, a black-looking ridge ofmountains terminating in the Maiden's Paps, which were later to beassociated with one of the most difficult and dangerous traverses weever experienced. 

The night was now coming on, and we hurried onwards, passing two oldcastles, one to the left and the other to the right of our road, and wenoticed a gate, the posts of which had been formed from the rib-bones ofa monster whale, forming an arch ornamented in the centre by a portionof the backbone of the same creature. In the dark the only objects wecould distinguish were the rocks on the right and the lights of twolighthouses, one across Dornoch Firth and the other across Moray Firth. In another mile and a half after leaving the farmer, who had accompaniedus for some miles and who, we afterwards learned, was an old bachelor, we were seated in the comfortable hotel at Dunbeath. The landlord wascivil and communicative, and we sat talking to him about the greatdifference between Caithness and Cheshire, and the relative values ofturf and coal. He informed us that there was very little coal consumedin the county of Caithness, as the English coal was dear and the Scotchcoal bad, while the peat was of good quality, the darkest-looking beingthe richest and the best. 

Our tea was now ready, and so were we, as we had walked fifteen milessince our lunch in the heather. We were ushered into the parlour, wherewe were delighted to find a Cheshire gentleman, who told us he had beenout shooting, and intended to leave by the coach at two a. M. Hearingthat two pedestrians had arrived, he had given up his bed, which he hadengaged early in the day, and offered to rest on the sofa until thearrival of the mail-coach. We thanked him for his kind consideration, for we were tired and footsore. Who the gentleman was we did notdiscover; he knew Warrington and the neighbourhood, had visited Mr. Lyonof Appleton Hall near that town, and knew Mr. Patten of Bank Hall, whohe said was fast getting "smoked out" of that neighbourhood. We retiredearly, and left him in full possession of the coffee-room and its sofa. 

At two o'clock in the morning we were wakened by the loud blowing of ahorn, which heralded the approach of the mail-coach, and in anotherminute the trampling of horses' feet beneath our window announced itsarrival. We rose hurriedly and rushed to the window, but in the hurry mybrother dashed against a table, and down went something with a smash; ongetting a light we found it was nothing more valuable than awater-bottle and glass, the broken pieces of which we carefullycollected together, sopping up the water as best we could. We were intime to see our friend off on the coach, with three horses and anenormous light in front, which travelled from Thurso to Helmsdale, adistance of fifty-eight miles, at the rate of eight miles per hour. 

(_Distance walked twenty-one and a half miles. _)

_Wednesday, September 20th. _

We rose early, and while waiting for our breakfast talked with an oldhabitué of the hotel, who, after drawing our attention to the weather, which had now changed for the worse, told us that the building of thenew pier, as he called it, at Wick had been in progress for seven oreight years, but the sea there was the stormiest in Britain, and whenthe wind came one way the waves washed the pier down again, so that itwas now no bigger than it was two years ago. He also told us he couldremember the time when there was no mail-coach in that part of thecountry, the letters for that neighbourhood being sent to a man, atailor by trade, who being often very busy, sent his wife to deliverthem, so that Her Majesty's mails were carried by a female!

[Illustration: A STORM IN WICK HARBOUR. ]

Almost the last piece of advice given us before leaving home was, "Mindthat you always get a good breakfast before starting out in a morning, "and fortunately we did not neglect it on this occasion, for it provedone of the worst day's walks that we ever experienced. Helmsdale was ournext stage, and a direct road led to it along the coast, a distance ofsixteen miles. But my brother was a man of original ideas, and he hadmade up his mind that we should walk there by an inland route, and climbover the Maiden's Paps mountain on our way. 

The wind had increased considerably during the night, and the rain beganto fall in torrents as we left the Dunbeath Inn, our mackintoshes andleggings again coming in useful. The question now arose whether weshould adhere to our original proposal, or proceed to Helmsdale by theshortest route. Our host strongly advised us to keep to the main road, but we decided, in spite of our sore feet and the raging elements, tocross over the Maiden's Paps. We therefore left the main road andfollowed a track which led towards the mountains and the wild moors. Wehad not gone very far when we met a disconsolate sportsman, accompaniedby his gillies and dogs, who was retreating to the inn which he had leftearly in the morning. He explained to us how the rain would spoil hissport amongst the grouse, though he consoled himself by claiming that ithad been one of the finest sporting seasons ever known in Caithness. Asan illustration, he said that on the eighteenth day of September he hadbeen out with a party who had shot forty-one and a half brace of grouseto each gun, besides other game. The average weight of grouse on theScotch moors was twenty-five ounces, but those on the Caithness moorswere heavier, and averaged twenty-five and a half ounces. 

He was curious to know where we were going, and when we told him, hesaid we were attempting an impossible feat in such awful weather, andstrongly advised us to return to the hotel, and try the journey on afiner day. We reflected that the fine weather had now apparently broken, and it would involve a loss of valuable time if we accepted his adviceto wait for a finer day, so we pressed forwards for quite two hoursacross a dreary country, without a tree or a house or a human being toenliven us on our way. Fortunately the wind and rain were behind us, andwe did not feel their pressure like our friend the sportsman, who wasgoing in the opposite direction. At last we came to what might be calleda village, where there were a few scattered houses and a burial-ground, but no kirk that we could see. Near here we crossed a stream known asBerriedale Water, and reached the last house, a farm, where our trackpractically ended. We knocked at the door, which was opened by thefarmer himself, and his wife soon provided us with tea and oatmeal cake, which we enjoyed after our seven or eight-mile walk. The wind howled inthe chimney and the rain rattled on the window-panes as we partook ofour frugal meal, and we were inclined to exclaim with the poet whosename we knew not:

 The day is cold and dark and dreary, It rains, and the wind is never weary. 

The people at the farm had come there from South Wales and did not knowmuch about the country. All the information they could give us was thatthe place we had arrived at was named Braemore, and that on the otherside of the hills, which they had never crossed themselves, there was aforest with no roads through it, and if we got there, we should have tomake our way as best we could across the moors to Helmsdale. They showedus the best way to reach the foot of the mountain, but we found thegoing much worse than we anticipated, since the storm had now developedinto one of great magnitude. Fortunately the wind was behind us, but thehigher we ascended the stronger it became, and it fairly took our breathaway even when we turned our heads towards it sideways, which made usrealise how impossible it was for us to turn back, however much wemight wish to do so; consequently we struggled onwards, occasionallytaking advantage of the shelter of some projecting rock to recover ourbreathing--a very necessary proceeding, for as we approached the summitthe rain became more like sleet, the wind was very cold, and the rockswere in a frozen and slippery condition. We were in great danger ofbeing blown over and losing our lives, and as we could no longer walkupright in safety, we knelt down, not without a prayer to heaven as wecontinued on our way. Thus we crawled along upon our hands and kneesover the smooth wind-swept summit of the Maiden's Paps, now one immensesurface of ice. The last bit was the worst of all, for here the ragingelements struck us with full and uninterrupted force. We crossed thisinches at a time, lying flat on the smooth rock with our facesdownwards. Our feelings of thankfulness to the Almighty may be imaginedwhen we finally reached the other side in safety. 

Given a fine day we should have had a glorious view from this point, and, as it was, in spite of the rain we could see a long distance, butthe prospect was far from encouraging. A great black rock, higher thanthat we had climbed, stood before us, with its summit hidden in theclouds, and a wide expanse of hills and moors, but not a house or treeso far as the eye could reach. This rather surprised us, as we expectedthe forest region to be covered with trees which would afford us someshelter on our farther way. We learned afterwards that the "forest" wasbut a name, the trees having disappeared ages ago from most of theseforests in the northern regions of Scotland. 

We were wet through to the skin and shivering with cold as we began todescend the other side of the Maiden's Paps--a descent we found bothdifficult and dangerous. It looked an awful place below us--a wildamphitheatre of dreary hills and moors!

We had no compass to guide us, and in the absence of light from the sunwe could not tell in what direction we were travelling, so with ourbacks towards the hills we had crossed, we made our way across the bog, now saturated with water. We could hear it gurgling under our feet atevery stride, even when we could not see it, and occasionally we slippedinto holes nearly knee-deep in water. After floundering in the bog forsome time, and not knowing which way to turn, as we appeared to besurrounded with hills, we decided to try to walk against the wind whichwas blowing from the sea, for we knew that if we could reach the coastwe should also reach the highway, which ran alongside it. But we soonhad to give in, for we came to great rocks impossible for us to scale, so we had to abandon this direction and try another. The rain stillcontinued, and our hands had now been bleached quite white with the rainbeating on them, just like those of a washerwoman after a heavy day'swashing. We knew that the night would shortly be coming on, and theterrible thought of a dark night on the moors began to haunt us. If wecould only have found a track we should not have cared, but we were nowreally LOST. 

We were giving way to despair and beginning to think it might be aquestion of life or death when a bright thought suddenly struck us, andwe wondered why we had not thought of it before. Why not follow thewater, which would be sure to be running towards the sea? This ideainspired us with hope, and seemed to give us new life; but it wasastonishing what a time elapsed before we found a running stream, forthe water appeared to remain where it fell. At length we came to a smallstream, the sight of which gave us renewed energy, and we followed itjoyfully on its downward course. Presently we saw a few small bushes;then we came to a larger stream, and afterwards to a patch of grasslandwhich clearly at one time had been under cultivation. At last we came totrees under which we could see some deer sheltering from the storm: bythis time the stream had become a raging torrent. We stood watching thedeer for a moment, when suddenly three fine stags rushed past us anddashed into the surging waters of the stream, which carried them down aconsiderable distance before they could land on its rocky bank on theother side. It was an exciting adventure, as the stags were so near us, and with their fine antlers presented an imposing appearance. 

We now crossed over some heather in order to reach a small path which wecould see alongside the swollen river. How pleased we were when we knewwe were out of danger! It seemed to us like an escape from a terriblefate. We remembered how Mungo Park, when alone in the very heart ofAfrica, and in the midst of a great wilderness, derived consolation fromvery much smaller sources than the few trees which now cheered us on ourway. The path became broader as we passed through the grounds of LordGalloway's hunting-box, and we soon reached the highway, where wecrossed the boiling torrent rushing along with frightful rapidity on itsway to the sea. The shades of night were coming on as we knocked at thedoor of the keeper's cottage, and judge of our surprise when we wereinformed that, after walking from ten o'clock in the morning to sixo'clock at night, we were only about six miles from Dunbeath, whence wehad started that morning, and had still about ten miles to walk beforewe could reach Helmsdale. 

We were almost famished with hunger, but we were lucky enough to securea splendid tea at the keeper's cottage. Fortunately for us the good ladyof the house had provided a sumptuous repast for some sporting gentlemenshe was expecting, but who had been prevented from coming owing to thestorm. We kept no record of our gastronomical performances on thisoccasion, but we can safely state that of a whole rabbit very littleremained, and the same remark would apply to a whole series of otherdelicacies which the keeper's wife had so kindly and thoughtfullyprovided for her more distinguished but absent guests. We took theopportunity of drying some of our wet clothing, and before we finishedour tea the keeper himself came in, to whom we related our adventures. Though accustomed to the broken regions and wild solitudes we had passedthrough, he was simply astounded that we had come over them safely, especially on such a day. 

It was pitch dark when we left the keeper's cottage, and he very kindlyaccompanied us until we reached the highroad in safety. The noise causedby the rushing waters of the rivers as they passed us on their way infrantic haste to the sea, now quite near us, and the roar of the seaitself as it dashed itself violently against the rocky coast, renderedconversation very difficult, but our companion gave us to understandthat the road to Helmsdale was very hilly and lonely, and at one timewas considered dangerous for strangers. Fortunately the surface was verygood, and we found it much easier to walk upon than the wet heather wehad passed over for so many miles. The black rocks which lined the road, the darkness of the night, and the noise from the sea as the great wavesdashed and thundered on the rocks hundreds of feet below, might haveterrified timid travellers, but they seemed nothing to us compared withour experience earlier in the day. The wind had moderated, but the raincontinued to fall, and occasionally we were startled as we rounded oneof the many bends in the road by coming suddenly on a burn swollen withthe heavy rains, hurling itself like a cataract down the rocky sides ofthe hill, and rushing under the road beneath our feet in its noisydescent helter-skelter towards the sea. 

We walked on as rapidly as the hilly nature of our road would permit, without seeing a house or human being, until we approached Helmsdale, when we were surprised by the sudden appearance of the stage-coach drawnby three horses and displaying its enormous red lamp in front. Thedriver suddenly pulled up his horses, for, as he said, he did not know"what the de'il it was coming in front": he scarcely ever met any one onthat road, and particularly on such an "awful" stormy night. We askedhim how far we were from the town, and were delighted to hear it wasonly about two miles away. It was after ten o'clock when we arrived atHelmsdale, tired and footsore, but just in time to secure lodgings forthe night at the Commercial Inn. 

(_Distance walked thirty miles_. )

_Thursday, September 21st. _

Helmsdale was a pleasant little town inhabited chiefly by fishermen, buta place of some importance, for it had recently become the northernterminus of the railway. A book in the hotel, which we read whilewaiting for breakfast, gave us some interesting information about theroad we had travelled along the night before, and from it we learnedthat the distance between Berriedale and Helmsdale was nine and a halfmiles, and that about half-way between these two places it passed theOrd of Caithness at an elevation of 1, 200 feet above the sea-level, an"aclivity of granite past which no railway can be carried, " and thecommencement of a long chain of mountains separating Caithness fromSutherland. 

Formerly the road was carried along the edge of a tremendous range ofprecipices which overhung the sea in a fashion enough to frighten bothman and beast, and was considered the most dangerous road in Scotland, so much so that when the Earl of Caithness or any other great landedproprietor travelled that way a troop of their tenants from the bordersof Sutherland-shire assembled, and drew the carriage themselves acrossthe hill, a distance of two miles, quadrupeds not being considered safeenough, as the least deviation would have resulted in a fall over therocks into the sea below. This old road, which was too near the sea formodern traffic, was replaced by the present road in the year 1812. Theold path, looked at from the neighbourhood of Helmsdale, had more theappearance of a sheep track than a road as it wound up the steep brow ofthe hill 300 or 400 feet above the rolling surge of the sea below, andwas quite awe-inspiring even to look at, set among scenery of the mostwild and savage character. 

We had now cleared the county of Caithness, which, like Orkney andShetland, was almost entirely devoid of trees. To our way of thinking asprinkling of woods and copses would have much enhanced the wild beautyof the surroundings, but there was a difference of opinion or taste onthis point as on everything else. A gentleman who had settled inAmerica, and had had to clear away the trees from his holding, when hepassed through Caithness on his way to John o' Groat's was continuallyejaculating, "What a beautiful country!" "What a very beautifulcountry!" Some one who heard him remarked, "You can hardly call it avery beautiful country when there are no trees. " "Trees, " cried theYankee; "that's all stuff Caithness, I calculate, is the finest clearingI ever saw in my life!"

We had often wondered, by the way, how the Harbour Works at Wick wouldbe affected by the great storms, and we were afterwards greatlyinterested when we read in a Scotch provincial newspaper the followingtelegrams:

 TERRIFIC GALE AT WICK THREATENED DESTRUCTION OF THE HARBOUR WORKS

 _From our Wick Correspondent_

 _Wick, Wednesday_, 12:50--A terrific storm is raging here to-day. It is a gale from the south-east, with an extraordinary surf which is making a complete break of the new Harbour Works, where a number of large stones have been dislodged and serious damage is threatened. 

 1:30 _p. M. _--The storm still continues. A large concrete block, weighing 300 tons, has been dislodged, and the whole building seems doomed unless the storm abates very soon. 

These hours corresponded with the time we were crossing the Maiden'sPaps mountains, and we are not likely ever to forget the great danger wewere in on that occasion. 

We were rather backward in making a start on our journey to-day, for ourfeet were very sore; but we were advised to apply common soap to ourstocking feet, from which we experienced great relief. As we left thetown we saw some ruins, which we assumed were those of Helmsdale Castle, and we had now the company of the railway, which, like our road, huggedthe seacoast for some miles. About two miles after leaving Helmsdale wesighted the first railway train we had seen since we left Aberdeen afortnight before. Under ordinary conditions this might have passedunnoticed, but as we had been travelling through such wild country welooked upon it as a sign that we were approaching a part of the countrywhich had communication with civilisation, other than that afforded bysea or mail-coach. 

[Illustration: PICTISH TOWER (EXTERIOR). ]

We now walked through the Parish of Loth, where in Glen Loth we wereinformed the last wolf in Scotland was killed, and about half a milebefore reaching Brora we climbed over a stone fence to inspect the ruinsof a Pictish castle standing between our road and the railway. The ruinswere circular, but some of the walls had been built in a zig-zag form, and had originally contained passages and rooms, some of which stillexisted, but they looked so dark that we did not care to go inside them, though we were informed that about two years before our visitexcavations had been made and several human skulls were discovered. Theweather continued wet, and we passed through several showers on our wayfrom Helmsdale to Brora, where, after a walk of twelve miles, we stayedfor lunch, and it was again raining as we left there for Golspie. 

[Illustration: PICTISH TOWER (INTERIOR). ]

At Brora we heard stories of wonderful fossils which were to be found inthe rocks on the shore--shells and fish-scales and remains of biggercreatures--and of a bed of real coal. Certainly the rocks seemed tochange their character hereabouts, which may account for the softeningof the scenery and the contrast in agricultural pursuits in this regionwith those farther north. Here the appearance of the country graduallyimproved as we approached the woods and grounds and more cultivatedregions surrounding the residence of the Duke of Sutherland. 

[Illustration: DUNROBIN CASTLE. "It was the finest building we hadseen, not at all like the gloomy-looking castles, being more like apalace, with a fine display of oriel windows, battlements, steeples, andturrets. "]

We came in sight of another Pictish castle, which we turned aside tovisit; but by this time we had become quite familiar with the formationof these strange old structures, which were nearly all built after thesame pattern, although some belonged to an earlier period than others, and the chambers in them were invariably dark and dismal. If these wereused for the same purpose as similar ones we had seen in Shetland, wheremaidens of property and beauty were placed for protection from the"gallants" who roamed about the land in those days, the fair prisonersmust have had a dismal time while incarcerated in these dungeon-likeapartments. In these ruins, however, we saw some ancient utensils, orquerns, supposed to have been used for crushing corn. They had beenhollowed out in stone, and one of them had a well-worn stone inside it, but whether or no it was the remains of an ancient pestle used incrushing the corn we could not determine; it looked strangely like one. 

The country hereabouts was of the most charming description, hilly andundulating rather than rugged, and we left the highway to walk along theseashore, where we passed the rifle and artillery ranges of thevolunteers. We also saw the duke's private pier extending towards theopen sea, and from this point we had a fine view of Dunrobin Castle, theduke's residence, which was the finest building we had seen, and not atall like the other gloomy-looking castles, being more like a palace. Itis a happy blending of the German Schloss, the French château, andScottish baronial architecture, with a fine display of oriel windows, battlements, turrets, and steeples, the great tower rising to a heightof 135 feet above the garden terrace below. A vista of mountains andforests lay before any one privileged to ascend the tower. The view fromthe seashore was simply splendid, as from this point we could see, showing to great advantage, the lovely gardens, filled with beautifulshrubs and flowers of luxuriant growth, sloping upwards towards thecastle, and the hills behind them, with their lower slopes covered withthousands of healthy-looking firs, pines, and some deciduous trees, while the bare moorland above formed a fine background. On the hill"Beinn-a-Bhragidh, " at a point 1, 300 feet above sea-level, standing asif looking down on all, was a colossal monument erected to the memory ofthe duke's grandfather, which could be seen many miles away. The dukemust have been one of the largest landowners in Britain, as, in additionto other possessions, he owned the entire county of Sutherland, measuring about sixty miles long and fifty-six miles broad, so that whenat home he could safely exclaim with Robinson Crusoe, "I am monarch ofall I survey. "

The castle had an ancient foundation, for it was in 1097 the dun, orstronghold, of the second Robert of Sutherland, and the gardens havebeen famous from time immemorial. An extract from an old book written in1630 reads, "The Erle of Sutherland made Dunrobin his speciall residenceit being a house well-seated upon a mole hard by the sea, with fairorchards wher ther be pleasant gardens, planted with all kinds offroots, hearbs and flours used in this kingdom, and abundance of goodsaphorn, tobacco and rosemarie, the froot being excellent and cheefliethe pears and cherries. "

A most pleasing feature to our minds was the fact that the gardens wereopen to all comers, but as we heard that the duke was entertaining adistinguished company, including Lord Delamere of Vale Royal from ourown county of Cheshire, we did not apply for permission to enter thegrounds, and thus missed seeing the great Scotch thistle, the finest inall Scotland. This thistle was of the ordinary variety, but of colossalproportions, full seven feet high, or, as we afterwards saw itdescribed, "a beautiful emblem of a war-like nation with his radiouscrown of rubies full seven feet high. " We had always looked upon thethistle as an inferior plant, and in Cheshire destroyed it in thousands, regarding it as only fit for food for donkeys, of which very few werekept in that county; but any one seeing this fine plant must have beengreatly impressed by its appearance. The thistle has been the emblem ofScotland from very early times, and is supposed to have been adopted bythe Scots after a victorious battle with the Danes, who on a dark nighttried to attack them unawares. The Danes were creeping towards themsilently, when one of them placed his bare foot on a thistle, whichcaused him to yell out with pain. This served as an alarm to the Scots, who at once fell upon the Danes and defeated them with great slaughter, and ever afterwards the thistle appeared as their national emblem, withthe motto, _Nemo me impune lacessit_, or, "No one hurts me withimpunity. "

Golspie was only a short distance away from the castle, and we wereanxious to get there, as we expected letters from home, so we called atthe post office first and got what letters had arrived, but another mailwas expected. We asked where we could get a cup of coffee, and weredirected to a fine reading-room opposite, where we adjourned to read ourletters and reply to them with the accompaniment of coffee and lightrefreshments. The building had been erected by the Sutherland family, and was well patronised, and we wished that we might meet with similarplaces in other towns where we happened to call. Such as we foundfarther south did not appear to be appreciated by the class of peoplefor whom they were chiefly intended. This may be accounted for by thefact that the working-class Scots were decidedly more highly educatedthan the English. We were not short of company, and we heard a lot ofgossip, chiefly about what was going on at the castle. 

On inquiring about our next stage, we were told that it involved atwenty-five-mile walk through an uninhabited country, without a villageand with scarcely a house on the road. The distance we found afterwardshad been exaggerated, but as it was still raining and the shades ofevening were coming on, with our recent adventures still fresh in ourminds and the letter my brother expected not having yet arrived, weagreed to spend the night at Golspie, resolving to make an early starton the following morning. We therefore went into the town to selectsuitable lodgings, again calling at the post office and leaving ouraddress in the event of any letters coming by the expected mail, whichthe officials kindly consented to send to us, and after making a fewpurchases we retired to rest. We were just dozing off to sleep, when wewere aroused by a knock at our chamber door, and a voice from withoutinformed us that our further letters and a newspaper had arrived. Wejumped out of bed, glad to receive additional news from the "old folksat home, " and our sleep was no less peaceful on that account. 

(_Distance walked eighteen miles_. )

_Friday, September 22nd. _

We rose at seven o'clock, and left Golspie at eight _en route_ for BonarBridge. As we passed the railway station we saw a huge traction engine, which we were informed belonged to the Duke of Sutherland, and wasemployed by him to draw wood and stone to the railway. About a mileafter leaving the town we observed the first field of wheat since we hadleft John o' Groat's. The morning had turned out wet, so there was noone at work among the corn, but several machines there showed thatagriculture received much attention. We met some children carrying milk, who in reply to our inquiry told us that the cows were milked threetimes each day--at six o'clock in the morning, one o'clock at noon, andeight o'clock at night--with the exception of the small Highland cows, which were only milked twice. As we were looking over the fields in thedirection of the railway, we observed an engine with only one carriageattached proceeding along the line, which we thought must be the mailvan, but we were told that it was the duke's private train, and that hewas driving the engine himself, the engine being named after his castle, "Dunrobin. " We learned that the whole railway belonged to him for manymiles, and that he was quite an expert at engine driving. 

About five miles after leaving Golspie we crossed what was known as "TheMound, " a bank thrown across what looked like an arm of the sea. It wasupwards of half a mile long, and under the road were six arches to admitthe passage of the tide as it ebbed and flowed. Here we turned off tothe right along the hill road to Bonar Bridge, and visited what had beenonce a mansion, but was now nearly all fallen to the ground, very littleremaining to tell of its former glory. What attracted us most was thesite of the garden behind the house, where stood four great yew treeswhich must have been growing hundreds of years. They were growing inpairs, and in a position which suggested that the road had formerlypassed between them. 

Presently our way passed through a beautiful and romantic glen, with afine stream swollen by the recent rains running alongside it. Had theweather been more favourable, we should have had a charming walk. Thehills did not rise to any great elevation, but were nicely wooded downto the very edge of the stream, and the torrent, with its innumerablerapids and little falls, that met us as we travelled on our upward way, showed to the best advantage. In a few miles we came to a beautifulwaterfall facing our road, and we climbed up the rocks to get a nearview of it from a rustic bridge placed there for the purpose. A largeprojecting rock split the fall into the shape of a two-pronged fork, sothat it appeared like a double waterfall, and looked very pretty. Another stream entered the river near the foot of the waterfall, but thefall of this appeared to have been artificially broken thirty or fortytimes on its downward course, forming the same number of small lochs, orponds. We had a grand sight of these miniature lakes as they overflowedone into another until their waters joined the stream below. 

We now left the trees behind us and, emerging into the open country, travelled many miles across the moors alongside Loch Buidhee, our onlycompany being the sheep and the grouse. As we approached Bonar Bridge weobserved a party of sportsmen on the moors. From the frequency of theirfire we supposed they were having good sport; a horse with panniers onits back, which were fast being ladened with the fallen game, wasfollowing them at a respectful distance. Then we came to a few smallhouses, near which were large stacks of peat or turf, which was beingcarted away in three carts. We asked the driver of the first cart weovertook how far it was to Bonar Bridge, and he replied two miles. Wemade the same inquiry from the second, who said three miles, and thereply of the third was two and a half miles. As the distance between thefirst and the third drivers was only one hundred yards, their repliesrather amused us. Still we found it quite far enough, for we passedthrough shower after shower. 

Our eighteen-mile walk had given us a good idea of "Caledonia stern andwild, " and at the same time had developed in us an enormous appetitewhen by two o'clock we entered the hotel facing Bonar Bridge for ourdinner. The bridge was a fine substantial iron structure of about 150feet span, having a stone arching at either end, and was of greatimportance, as it connected main roads and did away with the ferry whichonce existed there. As we crossed the bridge we noticed two vessels fromSunderland discharging coals, and some fallen fir-trees lying on theside of the water apparently waiting shipment for colliery purposes, aptillustrations of the interchange of productions. There were many fineplantations of fir-trees near Bonar Bridge, and as we passed the railwaystation we saw a rather substantial building across the water which wewere informed was the "Puirshoose, " or "Poor House. "

Observing a village school to the left of our road, we looked throughthe open door; but the room was empty, so we called at the residence ofthe schoolmaster adjoining to get some reliable information about ourfurther way, We found him playing on a piano and very civil andobliging, and he advised us to stay for the night at what was known asthe Half-way House, which we should find on the hill road to Dingwall, and so named because it was halfway between Bonar and Alness, and ninemiles from Bonar. Our road for the first two miles was close alongDornoch Firth, and the fine plantations of trees afforded us someprotection against the wind and rain; then we left the highway andturned to the right, along the hill road. After a steep ascent for morethan a mile, we passed under a lofty elevation, and found ourselves oncemore amongst the heather-bells so dear to the heart of every true Scot. 

At this point we could not help lingering awhile to view the magnificentscene below. What a gorgeous panorama! The wide expanse of water, thebridge we had lately crossed and the adjoining small village, the fineplantations of trees, the duke's monument rising above the woods atGolspie, were all visible, but obscured in places by the driftingshowers. If the "Clerk of the Weather" had granted us sunshine insteadof rain, we should have had a glorious prospect not soon to beforgotten. But we had still three miles to walk, or, as the people inthe north style it, to travel, before we could reach the Half-Way House, when we met a solitary pedestrian, who as soon as he saw us coming satdown on a stone and awaited us until we got within speaking distance, when he began to talk to us. He was the Inspector of Roads, and had beenwalking first in one direction and then in the other during the whole ofthe day. He said he liked to speak to everybody he saw, as the roadswere so very lonely in his district. He informed us that the Half-WayHouse was a comfortable place, and we could not do better than staythere for the night. 

We were glad when we reached the end of our nine-mile walk, as the dayhad been very rough and stormy. As it was the third in succession of thesame character, we did not care how soon the weather took a turn for thebetter. The Half-Way House stood in a deserted and lonely position onthe moor some little distance from the road, without another house beingvisible for miles, and quite isolated from the outer world. We enteredthe farmyard, where we saw the mistress busy amongst the pigs, two dogsbarking at us in a very threatening manner. We walked into the kitchen, the sole occupant of which was a "bairn, " who was quite naked, and whomwe could just see behind a maiden of clothes drying before the fire. Themistress soon followed us into the house, and in reply to our query asto whether we could be accommodated for the night said, "I will see, "and invited us into the parlour, a room containing two beds and sundrychairs and tables. The floor in the kitchen was formed of clay, theparlour had a boarded floor, and the mantelpiece and roof were of veryold wood, but there was neither firegrate nor fire. 

After we had waited there a short time, the mistress again made herappearance, with a shovel full of red-hot peat, so, although she had notgiven us a decided answer as to whether we could stay the night or not, we considered that silence gave consent, especially when seconded by thearrival of the welcome fire. 

"You surely must have missed your train!" she said; but when we told herthat we were pedestrian tourists, or, as my brother described it, "on awalking expedition, " she looked surprised. 

When she entered the room again we were sorting out our letters andpapers, and she said, "You surely must be sappers!" We had somedifficulty in making her understand the object of our journey, as shecould not see how we could be walking for pleasure in such bad weather. 

We found the peat made a very hot fire and did good service in helpingto dry our wet clothing. We wanted some hot milk and bread for supper, which she was very reluctant to supply, as milk was extremely scarce onthe moors, but as a special favour she robbed the remainder of thefamily to comply with our wishes. The wind howled outside, but we heededit not, for we were comfortably housed before a blazing peat fire whichgave out a considerable amount of heat. We lit one of our ozokeritecandles, of which we carried a supply to be prepared for emergencies, and read our home newspaper, _The Warrington Guardian_, which was sentto us weekly, until supper-time arrived, and then we were surprised byour hostess bringing in an enormous bowl, apparently an ancient punchbowl, large enough to wash ourselves in, filled with hot milk and bread, along with two large wooden spoons. Armed with these, we both sat downwith the punch-bowl between us, hungry enough and greedy enough tocompete with one another as to which should devour the most. Which wonwould be difficult to say, but nothing remained except the bowl and thespoons and our extended selves. 

We had walked twenty-seven miles, and it must have been weather such aswe had experienced that inspired the poet to exclaim:

 The west wind blows and brings rough weather, The east brings cold and wet together, The south wind blows and brings much rain, The north wind blows it back again!

The beds were placed end to end, so that our feet came together, with awooden fixture between the two beds to act as the dividing line. Needless to say we slept soundly, giving orders to be wakened early inthe morning. 

(_Distance walked twenty-seven miles_. )

_Saturday, September 23rd. _

We were awakened at six o'clock in the morning, and after a goodbreakfast we left the Half-Way House (later the "Aultnamain Inn"), andwell pleased we were with the way the landlady had catered for ourhungry requirements. We could see the sea in the distance, and as weresumed our march across the moors we were often alarmed suddenly by theharsh and disagreeable cries of the startled grouse as they rosehurriedly from the sides of our path, sounding almost exactly like "Goback!--go back!" We were, however, obliged to "Go forward, " and thatfairly quickly, as we were already a few miles behind our contemplatedaverage of twenty-five miles per day. We determined to make the lossgood, and if possible to secure a slight margin to our credit, so we setout intending to reach Inverness that night if possible. In spite, therefore, of the orders given in such loud and unpleasant tones by thegrouse, we advanced quickly onwards and left those birds to rejoice theheart of any sportsman who might follow. 

Cromarty Firth was clearly visible as we left the moors, and we coulddistinguish what we thought was Cromarty itself, with its whitewashedhouses, celebrated as the birthplace of the great geologist, HughMiller, of whom we had heard so much in the Orkneys. The original causeof the whitewashing of the houses in Cromarty was said to have been theresult of an offer made by a former candidate for Parliamentaryhonours, who offered to whitewash any of the houses. As nearly all thefree and independent electors accepted his offer, it was said thatCromarty came out of the Election of 1826 cleaner than any other placein Scotland, notwithstanding the fact that it happened in an age whenparliamentarian representation generally went to the highest bidder. 

We crossed the Strathrory River, and leaving the hills to our rightfound ourselves in quite a different kind of country, a veritable landof woods, where immense plantations of fir-trees covered the hills asfar as the eye could reach, sufficient, apparently, to make up for thedeficiency in Caithness and Sutherland in that respect, for we were nowin the county of Ross and Cromarty. 

Shortly afterwards we crossed over the River Alness. The country we nowpassed through was highly cultivated and very productive, containingsome large farms, where every appearance of prosperity prevailed, andthe tall chimneys in the rear of each spoke of the common use of coal. The breeding of cattle seemed to be carried on extensively; we saw onelarge herd assembled in a field adjoining our road, and were amused at aconversational passage of arms between the farmer and two cattle-dealerswho were trying to do business, each side endeavouring to get the betterof the other. It was not quite a war to the knife, but the fight betweenthose Scots was like razor trying to cut razor, and we wished we hadtime to stay and hear how it ended. 

Arriving at Novar, where there was a nice little railway station, wepassed on to the village inn, and called for a second breakfast, whichwe thoroughly enjoyed after our twelve-mile walk. Here we heard thatsnow had fallen on one of the adjacent hills during the early hours ofthe morning, but it was now fine, and fortunately continued to be soduring the whole of the day. 

Our next stage was Dingwall, the chief town in the county of Ross, andat the extreme end of the Cromarty Firth, which was only six milesdistant. We had a lovely walk to that town, very different from thelonely moors we had traversed earlier in the day, as our road now layalong the very edge of the Cromarty Firth, while the luxuriant foliageof the trees on the other side of our road almost formed an arch overour way. The water of the Firth was about two miles broad all the way toDingwall, and the background formed by the wooded hills beyond the Firthmade up a very fine picture. We had been fully prepared to find Dingwalla very pretty place, and in that we were not disappointed. 

The great object of interest as we entered this miniature county townwas a lofty monument fifty or sixty feet high, [Footnote: This monumenthas since been swept away. ] which stood in a separate enclosure near agraveyard attached to a church. It was evidently very old, and leaningseveral points from the perpendicular, and was bound together almost tothe top with bands of iron crossed in all directions to keep it fromfailing. A very curious legend was attached to it. It was erected tosome steward named Roderick Mackenzie, who had been connected with theCromarty estate many years ago, and who appeared to have resided atKintail, being known as the Tutor of Kintail. He acted as administratorof the Mackenzie estates during the minority of his nephew, thegrandfather of the first Earl of Cromarty, and was said to have been aman of much ability and considerable culture for the times in which helived. At the same time he was a man of strong personality though ofevil repute in the Gaelic-speaking districts, as the following coupletstill current among the common people showed:

 The three worst things in Scotland-- Mists in the dog-days, frost in May, and the Tutor of Kintail. 

The story went that the tutor had a quarrel with a woman who appeared tohave been quite as strong-minded as himself. She was a dairymaid inStrathconon with whom he had an agreement to supply him with a stone ofcheese for every horn of milk given by each cow per day. For some reasonthe weight of cheese on one occasion happened to be light, and this soenraged the tutor that he drove her from the Strath. Unfortunately forhim the dairymaid was a poetess, and she gave vent to her sorrow inverse, in which it may be assumed the tutor came in for much abuse. Whenshe obtained another situation at the foot of Ben Wyvis, thefar-reaching and powerful hand of the tutor drove her from there also;so at length she settled in the Clan Ranald Country in Barrisdale, onthe shores of Loch Hourn on the west coast of Inverness-shire, a placeat that time famous for shell-fish, where she might have dwelt in peacehad she mastered the weakness of her sex for demanding the last word;but she burst forth once more in song, and the tutor came in for anotherscathing:

 Though from Strathconon with its cream you've driven me, And from Wyvis with its curds and cheese; While billow beats on shore you cannot drive me From the shell-fish of fair Barrisdale. 

These stanzas came to the ear of the tutor, who wrote to Macdonald ofBarrisdale demanding that he should plough up the beach, and when thishad been done there were no longer any shell-fish to be found there. 

The dairymaid vowed to be even with the tutor, and threatened todesecrate his grave. When he heard of the threat, in order to preventits execution he built this strange monument, and instead of beingburied beneath it he was said to have been buried near the summit; butthe woman was not to be out-done, for after the tutor's funeral sheclimbed to the top of the pinnacle and kept her vow to micturate there!

As our time was limited, we were obliged to hurry away from thispleasantly situated town, and in about four miles, after crossing theRiver Conon, we entered Conon village, where we called for refreshments, of which we hastily disposed. Conon was quite an agricultural village, where the smithy seemed to rival the inn in importance, as the smithswere busy at work. We saw quite a dozen ploughs waiting to be repairedin order to fit them to stir up the soil during the ploughing season, which would commence as soon as the corn was cleared off the land. Herewe observed the first fingerpost we had seen since leaving John o'Groat's, now more than a hundred miles distant, although it was only anapology for one, and very different from those we were accustomed to seefarther south in more important but not more beautiful places. It wassimply an upright post with rough pieces of wood nailed across the top, but we looked upon it as a sign that we were approaching more civilisedregions. The gentry had shown their appreciation of this delightful partof the country by erecting fine residences in the neighbourhood, some ofwhich we passed in close proximity. Just before crossing over therailway bridge we came to a frightful figure of a human head carved on astone and built in the battlement in a position where it could be seenby all. It was coloured white, and we heard it was the work of somelocal sculptor. It was an awful-looking thing, and no doubt did duty forthe "boggard" of the neighbourhood. The view of the hills to the rightof our road as we passed along was very fine, lit up as they were by therays of the evening sun, and the snow on Ben Wyvis in the distancecontrasted strangely with the luxuriant foliage of the trees near us, asthey scarcely yet showed the first shade of the autumn tints. 

About four miles farther on we arrived at a place called the Muir ofOrd, a rather strange name of which we did not know the meaning, reaching the railway station there just after the arrival of a trainwhich we were told had come from the "sooth. " The passengers consistedof a gentleman and his family, who were placing themselves in a largefour-wheeled travelling-coach to which were attached four ratherimpatient horses. A man-servant in livery was on the top of the coacharranging a large number of parcels and boxes, those intolerableappendages of travel. We waited, and watched their departure, as we hadno desire to try conclusions with the restless feet of the horses, ouradventures with the Shetland pony in the north having acted as a warningto us. Shortly afterwards we crossed a large open space of land studdedwith wooden buildings and many cattle-pens which a man told us was nowthe great cattlemarket for the North, where sales for cattle were heldeach month--the next would be due in about a week's time, when from30, 000 to 35, 000 sheep would be sold. It seemed strange to us that aplace of such importance should have been erected where there werescarcely any houses, but perhaps there were more in the neighbourhoodthan we had seen, and in any case it lay conveniently as a meeting-placefor the various passes in the mountain country. 

We soon arrived at Beauly, which, as its name implied, was rather apretty place, with its houses almost confined to the one street, theGrammar School giving it an air of distinction. Our attention wasattracted by some venerable ruins at the left of our road, which wedetermined to visit, but the gate was locked. Seeing a small girlstanding near, we asked her about the key, and she volunteered to go andtell the man who kept it to come at once. We were pressed for time, andthe minutes seemed very long as we stood awaiting the arrival of thekey, until at last we decided to move on; but just as we were walkingaway we saw an old man coming up a side street with the aid of a crutchand a stick. 

[Illustration: ON THE BEAULY RIVER. ]

He pointed with his stick towards the cathedral, so we retraced oursteps and awaited his arrival with the key. A key it certainly was, anda large one too, for it weighed 2 lbs. 4 ozs. And the bore that fittedthe lock was three-quarters of an inch in diameter. It was the biggestkey we saw in all our long journey. We listened to all the old man hadto tell us about the cathedral, the building of which begun in the year1230. It measured 152 feet in length and about 24 feet in breadth, butwas ruined in the time of Cromwell. He showed us what he described asthe Holy Water Pot, which was quite near the door and had some water init, but why the water happened to be there the old man could notexplain. The front gable of the nave was nearly all standing, but thatat the back, which at one time had contained a large window, was nearlyall down. The old font was in the wall about half-way down thecathedral; the vestry and chapter house were roofless. The grave-stonesdated from the year 1602, but that which covered the remains of thefounder was of course very much older. Beauly was formerly aburial-place of the ancient Scottish chieftains, and was still used asthe burial-ground of the Mackenzies, the name reminding us of ourfriends at the "Huna Inn. " Rewarding our guide and the bairn who hadreturned with him for their services, we walked quickly away, as we hadstill twelve miles to walk before reaching Inverness. 

[Illustration: BEAULY PRIORY. ]

After crossing the bridge over the River Beauly we had the company forabout a mile of a huge servant-girl, a fine-looking Scotch lassie, withwhom we ventured to enter into conversation although we felt like dwarfsin her presence. She told us she had never been in England, but hersister had been there in service, and had formed a bad opinion of theway the English spent their Sundays. Some of them never went to churchat all, while one young man her sister knew there actually whistled ashe was going to church! It was very different in Scotland, where, shesaid, all went to church and kept holy the Sabbath day. She evidentlythought it a dreadful offence to whistle on Sundays, and we were carefulnot to offend the susceptibilities of the Scots, and, we may safely say, our own, by whistling on the Lord's day. Whistling was, however, anaccomplishment of which we were rather proud, as we considered ourselvesexperts, and beguiled many a weary mile's march withquicksteps--English, Scotch, Welsh, and Irish--which we flatteredourselves sounded better amongst the hills of the Highlands of Scotlandeven than the sacred bagpipes of the most famous Scotch regiments. 

We thanked our formidable-looking friend for her company and, presentingher with a John o' Groat's buckie, bade her farewell. When she must havebeen a distance away we accelerated our pace by whistling "Cheer, Boys, Cheer!" one of Charles Russell's songs. We could not keep it up forlong, as we were not only footsore, but sore in every joint, throughfriction, and we were both beginning to limp a little when we came to ajunction in the roads. Here it was necessary to inquire about our way, and seeing a farm quite near we went to it and asked a gentleman who wasstanding in the yard which way we should turn for Inverness and how farit was. He kindly directed us, and told us that town was nine milesdistant, but added, "I am just going there in my 'machine, ' which willbe ready directly, and will be glad to give you a lift. " This kind offerformed one of the greatest temptations we had during our long journey, as we had already walked thirty miles that day, and were in a pitiablecondition, and it was hard to say "No. " We thanked the gentlemanheartily, and explained why we could not accept it, as we had determinedto walk all the way to Land's End, and with an effort both painful andslow we mournfully took our way. We had only travelled a short distancewhen he overtook us with a spirited horse and a well-appointedconveyance, bidding us "Good night" as he passed. 

We had a painful walk for the next three miles, and it was just at theedge of dark when we called for tea at the "Bogroy Inn. " We were showninto the parlour by the mistress herself, a pleasant elderly lady, verystraight, but very stout, and when my brother complimented her on herpersonal appearance, she told him that when she first came into thatneighbourhood thirty-five years ago she only weighed eleven stone, butsix years since she weighed twenty-two stone; now, she rathersorrowfully added, "I only weigh seventeen stone!" She evidently thoughtshe had come down in the world, but she was an ideal landlady of thegood old sort, for she sent us some venison in for our tea, the first wehad ever tasted, and with eggs and other good things we had a grandfeast. Moreover, she sent her daughter, a prepossessing young lady, towait upon us, so we felt ourselves highly honoured. 

As we were devouring the good things provided we heard some mysterioustappings, which we were unable to locate. My brother suggested the housemight be haunted, but when the young lady entered the room again wediscovered that the tappings were outside the house, on the shutterswhich covered the windows, for every one in the Highlands in those daysprotected their lower windows with wooden shutters. The tappings wereaccompanied by a low whistle, by which we could see the young lady wasvisibly affected, until finally she left the room rather hurriedly, never to appear again; nor did we hear the tappings any more, and therequiem we sung was:

 If she be not fair for me, What care I how fair she be?

We were sorry to leave the "Bogroy Inn, " as the mistress said she wouldhave been glad of our further patronage, but we had determined to reachInverness as a better place to stay over the week end. With greatdifficulty we walked the remaining six miles under the trees, throughwhich the moon was shining, and we could see the stars twinkling aboveour heads as we marched, or rather crawled, along the Great North Road. On arriving at Inverness we crossed the bridge, to reach a house thathad been recommended to us, but as it was not up to our requirements weturned back and found one more suitable across the water. Our week'swalk totalled 160 miles, of which thirty-nine had been covered that day. 

(_Distance walked thirty-nine miles. _)

_Sunday, September 24th. _

After a good night's rest and the application of common soap to thesoles of our feet, and fuller's earth to other parts of ouranatomy--remedies we continued to employ, whenever necessary, on ourlong journey--we were served with a good breakfast, and then went out tosee what Inverness looked like in the daylight. We were agreeablysurprised to find it much nicer than it appeared as we entered it, tiredout, the night before, and we had a pleasant walk before going to theeleven-o'clock service at the kirk. 

Inverness, the "Capital of the Highlands, " has a long and eventfulhistory. St. Columba is said to have visited it as early as the year565, and on a site fortified certainly in the eighth century stands thecastle, which was, in 1039, according to Shakespeare, the scene of themurder of King Duncan by Macbeth. The town was made a Royal Burgh byDavid I, King of Scotland. The Lords of the Isles also appear to havebeen crowned here, for their coronation stone is still in existence, andhas been given a name which in Gaelic signifies the "Stone of the Tubs. "In former times the water supply of the town had to be obtained from theloch or the river, and the young men and maidens carrying it in tubspassed this stone on their way--or rather did not pass, for theylingered a while to rest, the stone no doubt being a convenienttrysting-place. We wandered as far as the castle, from which the view ofthe River Ness and the Moray Firth was particularly fine. 

We attended service in one of the Free Churches, and were muchinterested in the proceedings, which were so different from those we hadbeen accustomed to in England, the people standing while they prayed andsitting down while they sang. The service began with the one hundredthPsalm to the good old tune known as the "Old Hundredth" and associatedin our minds with that Psalm from our earliest days:

 All people that on earth do dwell, Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice. Him serve with fear, His praise forth tell, Come ye before Him, and rejoice. 

[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL, INVERNESS. ]

During the singing of this, all the people remained seated except theprecentor, who stood near the pulpit. Then followed a prayer, the peopleall standing; and then the minister read a portion of Scripture from thethirty-fourth chapter of the prophet Ezekiel beginning at the eleventhverse: "For thus saith the Lord God; Behold I, even I, will both searchMy sheep, and seek them out. "

Another hymn was followed by the Lord's Prayer; after which came thesermon, preached by the Rev. Donald Fraser, M. A. , of Marylebone, London, a former minister of the church. He read the last three verses of theninth chapter of St. John's gospel, continued reading down to thesixteenth verse of the tenth chapter, and then selected for his text thefourth, ninth, and tenth verses of that chapter, the first verse ofthese reading: "And when he putteth forth his own sheep, he goeth beforethem, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice. "

The sermon had evidently been well thought out and was ably delivered, the subject being very appropriate to a district where sheep abound andwhere their habits are so well known. Everybody listened with thegreatest attention. At the close there was a public baptism of a child, whose father and mother stood up before the pulpit with their backs tothe congregation. The minister recited the Apostles' Creed, which wasslightly different in phraseology from that used in the Church ofEngland, and then, descending from the pulpit, proceeded to baptize thechild in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. The closing hymnfollowed, and the people stood while the minister pronounced thebenediction, after which the congregation slowly separated. 

[Illustration: INVERNESS CASTLE. ]

During the afternoon we visited an isolated hill about a mile from thetown named Tomnahurich, or the "Hill of the Fairies. " Nicely wooded, itrose to an elevation of about 200 feet above the sea, and, the summitbeing comparatively level and clear from trees, we had a good view ofInverness and its surroundings. This hill was used as the Cemetery, andmany people had been buried, both on the top and along the sides of theserpentine walk leading up to it, their remains resting there peacefullyuntil the resurrection, "when the trumpet shall sound and the dead shallbe raised incorruptible. " We considered it an ideal place for the burialof the dead, and quite a number of people were walking up and down thepaths leading under the trees, many of them stopping on their way toview the graves where their friends had been buried. 

In the evening we attended service in the cathedral, a large modernstructure, with two towers, each of which required a spire forty feethigh to complete the original design. Massive columns of Aberdeengranite had been erected in the interior to support the roof of polishedoak, adorned with carved devices, some of which had not yet beencompleted. The Communion-table, or altar, made in Italy and presented tothe cathedral by a wealthy layman, stood beneath a suspended crucifix, and was further adorned with a cross, two candlesticks, and two vasescontaining flowers. The service, of a High-Church character, was fullychoral, assisted by a robed choir and a good organ. The sermon waspreached by the Rev. Provost Powell, who took for his text Romans xiv. 7: "For none liveth to himself and no man dieth to himself. " He gave usa clever oration, but whether extempore or otherwise we could not tell, as from where we sat we could not see the preacher. There was not alarge congregation, probably owing to the fact that the people in theNorth are opposed to innovations, and look upon crosses and candlestickson the Communion-table as imitations of the Roman Catholic ritual, towhich the Presbyterians could never be reconciled. The people generallyseemed much prejudiced against this form of service, for in the townearly in the morning, before we knew this building was the cathedral, weasked a man what kind of a place of worship it was, and he replied, in atone that implied it was a place to be avoided, that he did not know, but it was "next to th' Catholics. " Our landlady spoke of it in exactlythe same way. 

SECOND WEEK'S JOURNEY

_Monday, September 25th. _

[Illustration: CAIRN ON THE BATTLEFIELD OF CULLODEN MUIR. ]

We rose early, but were not in very good trim for walking, for a mildattack of diarrhoea yesterday had become intensified during the night, and still continued. After breakfast we went to the post office for our"poste restante" letters, and after replying to them resumed our march. Culloden Muir, the site of the great battle in 1746, in which theScottish Clans under Prince Charlie suffered so severely at the hands ofthe Duke of Cumberland, is only six miles away from Inverness, and wehad originally planned to visit it, but as that journey would have takenus farther from the Caledonian Canal, the line of which we were nowanxious to follow, we gave up the idea of going to Culloden. We were, moreover, in no humour for digressions since we had not yet recoveredfrom the effects of our long walk on Saturday, and our bodily ailmentswere still heavy upon us. As we crossed the suspension-bridge, in closeproximity to the castle, we purchased a few prints of the town and theneighbourhood through which we were about to pass. 

Inverness is built in a delightful situation, skirting the Ness, whichhere takes the form of a beautiful, shallow river moving peacefullyforward to its great receptacle, Loch Ness, a few miles away; but, although the country near the town is comparatively level, it issurrounded by mountain scenery of the most charming description. Ourroute lay along the north-western side of the Caledonian Canal in thedirection of Fort Augustus, and we again passed the Tomnahurich Hill. Near this we saw a large building which we were surprised to learn was alunatic asylum--an institution we did not expect to find here, for wehad only heard of one madman in the three counties of Scotland throughwhich we had passed. We concluded it must have been built for personsfrom farther south. 

[Illustration: CULLODEN MUIR. ]

The diarrhoea still continued to trouble us, so we asked the advice of agentleman we met on the road, and he recommended us to call at the nextfarmhouse, which, fortunately, happened to be only a short distanceaway, and to "take a quart of milk each, as hot as you can drink it. " Soaway we walked to the farm, which we found standing a short distancefrom our road, and, after explaining our troubles and wishes to thefarmer, were invited into the house, where the mistress quickly providedus with the hot milk, which luckily proved to be a safe and simpleremedy. The farmer and his wife were as pleased with our company as wewere with theirs, and were just the sort of people that tourists like tomeet. We had a long talk with them about the crops, the markets, ourlong walk, and, last but not least, the weather. Speaking of diarrhoea, the farmer informed us that the water of Inverness often affectedstrangers in that way, and that it had even been known to producedysentery. 

After regaining our road, we had a lovely walk that day; the sceneryand the weather were both very fine, and, about a mile farther on, wehad a glorious view over Loch Ness, beside which our walk led us, through a delightful country studded with mansions amidst some ofnature's most beautiful scenery. Presently we met a party of men, consisting of two soldiers and three civilians, engaged in cuttingbranches from the trees that were likely to interfere with the workingof the telegraph, which passed along the side of the road. It consistedof a single wire, and had only just been erected, for we noticed eachpost bore the Government mark and the date 1871. We asked the men ifthey knew of a good remedy for our complaint, and one of the soldiers, who had seen service abroad, recommended "a spoonful of sweet oil andcinnamon mixed with it. " Our former remedy had proved to be efficacious, so we had no need to try this, but we give the information here for thebenefit of all whom it may concern. 

[Illustration: THE BURYING-PLACE OF THE CLANS. ]

We were certainly in for the best day's march we had yet experienced, ifnot for distance, certainly for beauty of route; and if we had had thegift of poetry--which only affected us occasionally--we should have hadhere food for poems sufficient to fill the side of a newspaper. Mountainrills, gushing rivulets, and murmuring waters! Here they were inabundance, rolling down the rocky mountains from unknown heights, andlending an additional charm to the landscape! Is it necessary to dilateon such beauties?--for if words were conjured in the most delicate andexquisite language imaginable, the glories of Loch Ness and itssurroundings are, after all, things to be seen before they can be fullyappreciated. The loch is over twenty miles long, and averages about amile broad; while a strange fact is that its water never freezes. Scientific men, we were told, attributed this to the action ofearthquakes in distant parts of the world, their vibrations affectingthe surface of the water here; while others, apparently of the morecommonsense type, attribute it to the extreme depth of the water in theloch itself, for in the centre it is said to exceed 260 yards. 

As we loitered along--for we were very lazy--we decided to have a picnicamongst the large stones on the shore of the loch, so we selected asuitable position, and broke into the provisions we carried in our bagsas a reserve for emergencies. We were filling our water-boilingapparatus from the loch, when we saw a steamboat approaching from thedirection of Glasgow. It presented quite a picture as it passed us, inthe sunshine, with its flags flying and its passengers crowded on thedeck, enjoying the fine scenery, and looking for Inverness, where theirtrip on the boat, like the Caledonian Canal itself, would doubtless end. There was music on board, of which we got the full benefit, as the soundwas wafted towards us across the water, to echo and re-echo amongst thehills and adjoining woods; and we could hear the strains of the musiclong after the boat was cut off from our vision by the branches of thetrees which partially surrounded us. 

[Illustration: THE WELL OF THE DEAD, CULLODEN MUIR. The stone marks thespot where MacGillivray of Dunmaglass died while stretching out his handtoward the little spring of water. ]

We were, in reality, having a holiday compared with our exertions onSaturday, and, as we were practically on the sick-list, consideredourselves fully entitled to it. We thought we had travelled quite farenough for invalids when, at fourteen miles from Inverness, and in thelight of a lovely sunset, we reached Drumnadrochit, a village on theside of the loch. 

Is it to be wondered at that we succumbed to the seductions of thefamous inn there, as distinguished men had done before us, as therecords of the inn both in prose and poetry plainly showed? One poeticalIrishman had written a rhyme of four verses each ending with the wordDrumnadrochit, one of which we thought formed a sufficient invitationand excuse for our calling there; it read:

 Stop, traveller! with well-pack'd bag, And hasten to unlock it; You'll ne'er regret it, though you lag A day at Drumnadrochit. 

One of the best advertisements of this hotel and Drumnadrochit generallyappeared in a letter written by Shirley Brooks to _Punch_ in 1860, inwhich he wrote:

 The inn whence these lines are dated faces a scene which, happily, is not too often to be observed in this planet. I say happily, sir, because we are all properly well aware that this world is a vale of tears, in which it is our duty to mortify ourselves and make everybody else as uncomfortable as possible. If there were many places like Drumnadrochit, persons would be in fearful danger of forgetting that they ought to be miserable. 

But who would have thought that a quiet and sedate-looking Quaker likeJohn Bright, the famous M. P. For Birmingham, could have been moved bythe spirit to write a verse of poetry--such an unusual thing for amember of the Society of Friends! Here it is:

 In the Highland glens 'tis far too oft observed, That man is chased away and game preserved; Glen Urquhart is to me a lovelier glen-- Here deer and grouse have not supplanted men. 

But was the position reversed when Mr. Bright visited it? and did themen supplant the deer and grouse then?

[Illustration: DRUMNADROCHIT. ]

Glen Urquhart was one of the places we had to pass on the following day, but as we had no designs on the deer and grouse, since our sportingproclivities did not lie in that direction, we thought that we might besafely trusted to leave the game undisturbed. 

(_Distance walked fourteen miles_. )

_Tuesday, September 26th. _

We set out from Drumnadrochit early in the morning, and, leaving GlenUrquhart to the right, after walking about two miles turned aside toview Urquhart Castle, a ruin occupying a commanding position on the sideof Loch Ness and immediately opposite the entrance to the glen. Thecastle was besieged by Edward I when he was trying to subdue Scotland, and a melancholy story was told of that period. The Scots, who weredefending the castle, were "in extremis, " as their provisions wereexhausted and they knew that when they surrendered they would all beslain. The Governor, however, was anxious to save his wife, who wasshortly to become a mother, so he bade her clothe herself in rags anddrove her from the gate as though she were a beggar who had been shut upin the castle and whom they had driven away because their provisionswere running short. The ruse succeeded, for the English, believing herstory, let her go; after the garrison saw that she was safe they salliedforth to meet their fate, and were all killed. 

[Illustration: URQUHART CASTLE. ]

The approach to the ruins from the road is by upwards of a hundred roughhardwood steps, and the castle must have been a well-nigh impregnablestronghold in former times, protected as it was on three sides by thewater of the loch and by a moat on the fourth, the position of thedrawbridge being still clearly denned. 

Beneath the solitary tower is a dismal dungeon, and we wondered whathorrors had been enacted within its time-worn and gloomy walls! Once agrim fortress, its ruins had now been mellowed by the hand of time, andlooked quite inviting amidst their picturesque surroundings. To themmight fitly be applied the words: "Time has made beautiful that which atfirst was only terrible. "

Whilst we were amongst the ruins, a steamboat which had called atDrumnadrochit passed close alongside the castle, and we waved ourhandkerchiefs to those on board, our silent salutations being returnedby some of the passengers. We afterwards learned we had been recognisedby a gentleman who had met us on the previous day. 

About ten miles from Drumnadrochit we reached Invermoriston, and visiteda church which was almost filled with monuments to the memory of theGrant family, the lairds of Glenmoriston. Among them was the tombstoneof the son of a former innkeeper, with the following inscription, whichreminded us of our own mortality:

 Remember, Friend, when this you see, As I am now so you must be; As you are now so once was I. Remember, Friend, that you must die. 

There was also another tombstone, apparently that of his mother, inscribed:

 SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF JEAN SCOTT, THE AMIABLE WIFE OF WILLIAM FALL, INVERMORISTON, INNKEEPER, WHO DIED ON THE 13TH DAY OF APRIL 1837 AGED 68 YEARS. 

and on this appeared the following epitaph:

 Weep not for me, O friends, But weep and mourn For your own sins. 

[Illustration: LOCH NESS FROM FORT AUGUSTUS. ]

We then went to visit the remarkable waterfall of Glenmoriston, wherethe water after rushing down the rocks for some distance entered acrevice in a projecting rock below, evidently worn in the course of agesby the falls themselves. Here the water suddenly disappeared, toreappear as suddenly some distance below, where, as if furious at itsshort imprisonment, it came out splashing, dashing, and boiling infantastic beauty amongst the rocks over which it pursued its downwardcourse. We descended a few paces along a footpath leading to a smallbut ancient building, probably at one time a summer house, in the centreof which a very old millstone had done duty as a table. Here we werefairly in the whirl of waters, and had a splendid view of the falls andof the spray which rose to a considerable height. There was no doubtthat we saw this lovely waterfall under the best possible conditions, and it was some recompense to us when we thought that the heavy rainfallthrough which we had passed had contributed to this result. The thistlemay overshadow many more beautiful falls than the falls of Glenmoriston, but we claim a share of praise for this lively little waterfall asviewed by us in full force from this shady retreat. 

[Illustration: GENERAL WADE'S ROAD NEAR FORT AUGUSTUS, WITH LOCH NESS INTHE DISTANCE. ]

[Illustration: A LIGHTHOUSE ON LOCH NESS. ]

[Illustration: FALLS OF FOYERS AND LOCH NESS. "Here in the whirl ofwaters . . . The spray rose to a considerable height. "]

After refreshing ourselves at the inn, we started on our next stage often miles to Fort Augustus, the loneliness of our journey through itsbeauties of scenery being enlivened by occasionally watching the pranksof the squirrels and gazing at the many burns that flowed down themountain slopes. Before reaching Fort Augustus we had a splendid view aswe looked backward over Loch Ness, dotted here and there with severalships tacking and retacking, their white sails gleaming in the sunshine. It had been a calm and lovely day; the sun was sinking in the west aswe entered Fort Augustus, but we had only time enough for a superficialsurvey, for we had to proceed farther, and, however important the Fortmight have been in 1729 when General Wade constructed his famousmilitary road, or when the Duke of Cumberland made it his headquarterswhile he dealt severely with the adherents of Prince Charlie, shootingruthlessly, laying waste on every side, and driving women and childreninto the moors only to die, it looked very insignificant that night. TheHighland Clans never looked favourably on the construction of thesemilitary roads, and would doubtless have preferred the mountain tracksto remain as they were, for by using the Fort as a base these roadsbecame a weapon to be used against them; their only eulogy was said tohave been written by an Irish officer:

 Had you but seen these roads before they were made, You would lift up your eyes, and bless General Wade. 

My brother said he must have been a real Irishman, with the eye offaith, to see roads _before they were made_!

[Illustration: PRINCE CHARLIE'S CAVE, INVERMORISTON. ]

Fort Augustus stands at the extremity of Loch Ness, at the point whereits surplus waters are lowered by means of locks to swell those of LochOich, so as to make both lochs navigable for the purposes of theCaledonian Canal. We noticed some corn-stacks here that were thatchedwith broom, and some small houses that were roofed with what looked likeclods of earth, so we concluded that the district must be a very poorone. 

[Illustration: IN GLENMORISTON. ]

As darkness was now coming on, we were anxious to find lodgings for thenight, and, hearing that there was an inn at a place called Invergarry, seven and a half miles from Fort Augustus, we were obliged to go there. The moon was just beginning to relieve the darkness when we reachedInvergarry, and, seeing a servant removing some linen from aclothes-line in a small garden, we asked the way to the inn; she pointedto a building opposite, and said we had "better go in at that door. " Weentered as directed at the side door, and found ourselves in a ratherlarge inn with a passage through it from end to end. We saw what wesupposed to be the master and the mistress snugly ensconced in a room, and asked the master if we could obtain lodgings for the night. He said"yes, " but we heard the mistress, who had not seen us, mutter somethingwe could not hear distinctly. My brother said he was sure he heard thewords "Shepherd's room. " The landlord then conducted us into a room atthe end of the long dark passage, in which, we found several shepherdsdrinking and conversing with each other in Gaelic. One of them said tous "Good night, " and as we returned his salutation they all retired fromthe room. We were now able to look about us, and found the roomcontained two tables, four forms, and at least two beds rangedlengthways along one side. Presently a servant came in and began to makeone of the beds, and then another servant came who, we thought, eyed usrather closely, as we were holding our faces down to conceal thelaughter which we could scarcely restrain. When she had made the otherbed my brother asked if both the beds were for us. The servant said shecouldn't tell, but "Missis says they are both to be made. " We hadevidently been taken for shepherds, and at first we were inclined tofeel angry, for no one came to ask us if we required anything to eat ordrink. We could have done with a good supper, but fortunately we hadreplenished our bags at Fort Augustus, so we were in no danger of beingstarved. We scribbled in our diaries by the feeble light of the candlewhich the servants had left on one of the tables, and as no one turnedup to claim the second bed we occupied both. There was no lock orfastening on the door, but we barricaded it securely with two of theforms--and it was perhaps as well that we did so, for some one tried toopen it after we were in bed--and we slept that night not on feathers, but on chaff with which the beds or mattresses were stuffed. 

(_Distance walked twenty-seven miles_. )

_Wednesday, September 27th. _

"The sleep of a labouring man is sweet, " and so was ours on theprimitive beds of the shepherds. But the sounds in the rear of the hotelawoke us very early in the morning, and, as there was every appearanceof the weather continuing fine, we decided to walk some distance beforebreakfast. We asked one of the servants how much we had to pay, and shereturned with an account amounting to the astounding sum of sixpence!Just fancy, ye Highland tourists! ye who have felt the keen grip of manyan hotel-keeper there--just fancy, if ye can, two of us staying a nightat a large hotel in the Highlands of Scotland for sixpence!

We followed the servant to a small room at the front of the hotel, wherea lady was seated, to whom the money had to be paid; the surprised anddisappointed look on her face as we handed her a sovereign in payment ofour account was rich in the extreme, amply repaying us for any annoyancewe might have experienced the night before. What made the matter moreaggravating to the lady was that she had not sufficient change, and hadto go upstairs and waken some unwilling money-changer there! Then thechange had to be counted as she reluctantly handed it to us and made aforlorn effort to recover some of the coins. "Won't you stay forbreakfast?" she asked; but we were not to be persuaded, for although wewere hungry enough, we were of an unforgiving spirit that morning, and, relying upon getting breakfast elsewhere, we thanked her and went on ourway rejoicing!

About a mile farther on we reached the ruins of Glengarry Castle, whichstand in the private grounds of the owner, but locks and bolts preventedus from seeing the interior. This castle remains more complete than manyothers and still retains its quadrangular appearance, much as it waswhen Prince Charlie slept there during his flight after Culloden, and, although not built on any great elevation, it looks well in its woodedenvirons and well-kept grounds. A story was told of the last LordGlengarry who, in 1820, travelled 600 miles to be present at theCoronation of King George IV. He was dressed on that magnificent andsolemn occasion in the full costume of a Highland chief, including, as amatter of course, a brace of pistols. A lady who was at the receptionhappened to see one of the pistols in his clothing, and, being greatlyalarmed, set up a loud shriek, crying, "Oh Lord! Oh Lord! there's a manwith a pistol, " and alarming the whole assembly. As she insisted onGlengarry being arrested, he was immediately surrounded, and the GarterKing of Arms came forward and begged him to give up the much-dreadedpistols; but he refused, as they were not loaded, and pleaded that theyformed an essential part of his national garb. At length, however, aftermuch persuasion, he gave them up. 

Glengarry wrote a letter to the editor of _The Times_, in which he said:"I have worn my dress continually at Court, and was never so insultedbefore. Pistols, sir, are as essential to the Highland courtier's dressas a sword is to English, French, or German; and those used by me onsuch occasions as unstained with powder as any courtier's sword, withblood. It is only grossest ignorance of Highland character and costumewhich imagined that the assassin lurked under their bold and manlyform. "

Glengarry, who, it was said, never properly recovered from the effectsof this insult, died in 1828. 

After about another mile we came to a monument near the side of theroad, on the top of which were sculptured the figures of seven humanheads held up by a hand clasping a dagger. On each of the four sides ofthe base there was an inscription in one of four differentlanguages--English, French, Latin, and Gaelic--as follows:

 As a memorial to the ample and summary vengeance which in the swift course of Feudal justice inflicted by the orders of the Lord MacDonnell and Aross overtook the perpetrators of the foul murder of the Keppoch family, a branch of the powerful and illustrious Clan of which his Lordship was the Chief, this Monument is erected by Colonel MacDonnell of Glengarry XVII Mac-Minc-Alaister his successor and Representative in the year of our Lord 1812. The heads of the seven murderers were presented at the feet of the noble chief in Glengarry Castle after having been washed in this spring and ever since that event which took place early in the sixteenth century it has been known by the name "Tobar-nan-Ceann" or the Well of the Heads. 

The monument was practically built over the well, an arched passageleading down to the water, where we found a drinking-utensil placed forany one who desired a drink. We were glad to have one ourselves, butperhaps some visitors might be of such refined and delicate taste thatthey would not care to drink the water after reading the horriblehistory recorded above. 

It appeared that Macdonald of Keppoch, the owner of the estate, had twosons whom he sent to France to be educated, and while they were there hedied, leaving the management of his estate to seven kinsmen until thereturn of his sons from France; when they came back, they were murderedby the seven executors of their father's will. The Bard of Keppoch urgedGlengarry to take vengeance on the murderers, and this monument waserected to commemorate the ample and summary vengeance inflicted about1661. 

[Illustration: INVERGARRY CASTLE. ]

Leaving this memorial of "ample and summary vengeance, " we crossed theLoggan Bridge and gained the opposite bank of the Caledonian Canal. Thecountry we now passed through was very lonely and mountainous, and inone place we came to a large plantation of hazel loaded with nuts. Wereflected that there were scarcely any inhabitants to eat them, as thepersons we met did not average more than a dozen in twenty miles, and onone occasion only six all told; so we turned into nut-gatherersourselves, spurred on by the fact that we had had no breakfast and ourappetites were becoming sharpened, with small prospect of being appeasedin that lonely neighbourhood. 

A little farther on, however, we met a man with two dogs, who told us hewas the shepherd, and, in reply to our anxious inquiry, informed us thatwe could get plenty to eat at his house, which we should find a littlefarther on the road. This was good news, for we had walked eight milessince leaving Invergarry. When we reached the shepherd's house, whichhad formerly been an inn, we found the mistress both civil andobliging, and she did her best to provide for our hungry requirements. The house was evidently a very old one, and we wondered what queerpeople had sat in that ingle-nook and what strange stories they had toldthere. The fireplace was of huge dimensions; hanging above it was asingle-and a double-barrelled gun, while some old crockery and ancientglass bottles adorned various parts of the kitchen--evidently familyheirlooms, which no doubt had been handed down from one generation toanother--and a very old bed reposed in the chimney corner. 

The mistress provided us with a splendid breakfast, upon which weinflicted "ample and summary vengeance, " for those words were stillringing in our minds and ears and had already become by-words as wetravelled along. The "best tea-pot, " which looked as if it had not beenused for ages, was brought from its hiding-place; and, amongst othergood things, we were treated by way of dessert to some ripeblackberries, which the mistress called brambleberries and which shetold us she had gathered herself. It was half-past ten o'clock when weleft the shepherd's house, and shortly afterwards we had a view of thesnow-covered summit of Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in Great Britain. We had a lonely walk alongside Loch Lochy, which is ten miles in length;but in about six miles General Wade's road, which we followed, branchedoff to the left. About four miles from the junction we reached SpeanBridge, over which we crossed the river of that name, which brings alongthe waters of sundry lochs as well as others from the valley of GlenRoy. This Glen forms an almost hidden paradise beloved of geologists, asalong the sides of the valley are the famous "Parallel Roads" belongingto the Glacial Period. We replenished our stock of provisions, which wehad rather neglected, at Spean Bridge, and treated ourselves to anotherlittle picnic in the lonely country beyond. It was dark before wereached Fort William, where we found comfortable lodgings at the houseof Mrs. MacPherson opposite the Ben Nevis Hotel, and retired with theintention of ascending Ben Nevis the following day. 

(_Distance walked twenty-five and a half miles_. )

_Thursday, September 28th. _

After breakfast we commissioned Mrs. MacPherson to engage the servicesof the guide to conduct us to the top of Ben Nevis, which is 4, 406 feethigh, offering to pay him the sum of one sovereign for his services. Wehad passed the old castle of Inverlochy in the dark of the previousnight, and, as we wished to visit it in the daylight that morning, wearranged that the guide should meet us on a bridge outside the town, which we must cross on our way to and from what we were told was once aroyal castle, where King Achius signed a treaty with Charlemagne. Thecastle was some distance from the town, and quite near the famousdistillery where the whisky known as "Long John" or the "Dew of BenNevis" was produced. We found ready access to the ruins, as the key hadbeen left in the gate of the walled fence which surrounded them. "PrinceCharlie, " we learned, had "knocked" the castle to its present shape froman adjoining hill, and what he had left of it now looked very solitary. It was a square structure, with four towers one at each corner, that atthe north-west angle being the most formidable. The space enclosed wascovered with grass. What interested us most were four very old guns, orcannons, which stood in front of the castle, mounted on wheels supportedon wood planks, and as they were of a very old pattern, these relics ofthe past added materially to the effect of the ancient and warlikesurroundings. 

We did not stay long in the ruins, as we were anxious to begin our bigclimb, so we returned to the bridge to await the arrival of the guideengaged for us by our hostess, and whom we had not yet seen. We waitedthere for more than half an hour, and were just on the point ofreturning to the town when we noticed the approach of a military-lookingman carrying a long staff spiked at one end, who turned out to be thegentleman we were waiting for, and under whose guidance we soon beganthe ascent of the big mountain. After climbing for some time, we came toa huge stone on which the Government engineers had marked the altitudeas 1, 000 feet above sea-level, and as we climbed higher still we had agrand view of the hills and waters in the distance. We went bravelyonward and upward until we arrived at a lake, where on a rock we saw theGovernment mark known as the "broad arrow, " an emblem which we also sawin many other places as we walked through the country, often wonderingwhat the sign could mean. We surmised that it stood for England, Scotland, and Ireland united in one kingdom, but we afterwards learnedthat it was introduced at the end of the seventeenth century to markGovernment stores, and that at one time it had a religious significanceconnected with the Holy Trinity. The altitude was also marked on therock as 2, 200 feet, so that we had now ascended half-way to the top ofBen Nevis. 

[Illustration:]

On our way up the mountain we had to stop several times, for our guidecomplained of diarrhoea, but here he came to a dead stop and said hecould not proceed any farther. We were suspicious at first that he wasonly feigning illness to escape the bad weather which we could seeapproaching. We did our best to persuade him to proceed, but withouteffect, and then we threatened to reduce his fee by one-half if he didnot conduct us to the summit of Ben Nevis as agreed. Finally we askedhim to remain where he was until we returned after completing the ascentalone; but he pleaded so earnestly with us not to make the attempt toreach the summit, and described the difficulties and dangers so vividly, that we reluctantly decided to forgo our long-cherished ambition toascend the highest mountain in Great Britain. We were very muchdisappointed, but there was no help for it, for the guide was now reallyill, so we took his advice and gave up the attempt. 

Ben Nevis, we knew, was already covered with snow at the top, and afurther fall was expected, and without a guide we could not possiblyfind the right path. We had noticed the clouds collecting upon the upperpeaks of the great mountain and the sleet was already beginning to fall, while the wind, apparently blowing from an easterly direction, was icycold. My brother, who had had more experience in mountain-climbing thanmyself, remarked that if it was so bitterly cold at our present altitudeof 2, 200 feet, what might we expect it to be at 4, 400, and reminded meof a mountain adventure he had some years before in North Wales. 

On his first visit to the neighbourhood he had been to see a relativewho was the manager of the slate quarries at Llanberis and resided nearPort Dinorwic. The manager gave him an order to ride on the slate trainto the quarries, a distance of seven miles, and to inspect them when hearrived there. Afterwards he went to the Padaro Villa Hotel for dinner, and then decided to go on to Portmadoc. There was no railway in thosedays, and as the coach had gone he decided to walk. The most direct way, he calculated, was to cross Snowdon mountain, and without asking anyadvice or mentioning the matter to any one he began his walk over amountain which is nearly 3, 600 feet high. It was two o'clock in theafternoon when he left the hotel at Llanberis, and from the time hepassed a stone inscribed "3-3/4 miles to the top of Snowdon" he did notsee a single human being. It was the 23rd of November, and the top ofthe mountain, which was clearly visible, was covered with snow. 

All went well with him until he passed a black-looking lake and hadreached the top of its rocky and precipitous boundary, when withscarcely any warning he suddenly became enveloped in the clouds andcould only see a yard or two before him. He dared not turn back for fearhe should fall down the precipice into the lake below, so he continuedhis walk and presently reached the snow. This, fortunately, was frozen, and he went on until he came to a small cabin probably used by the guidein summertime, but the door was locked, the padlock resting upon thesnow; soon afterwards he arrived at the cairn which marked the summit ofSnowdon. It was very cold, and he was soon covered with the frozenparticles from the clouds as they drifted against him in the wind, whichgave out a mournful sound like a funeral dirge as it drove against therocks. 

He walked round the tower several times before he could find a way downon the other side, but at length his attention was attracted by a blackpeak of rock rising above the snow, and to his astonishment, in asheltered corner behind it, he could distinctly see the footprints of aman and a small animal, probably a dog, that had gone down behind therock just before the snow had frozen. The prints were not visibleanywhere else, but, fortunately, it happened to be the right way, and hecrossed the dreaded "Saddleback" with a precipice on each side of himwithout knowing they were there. It was a providential escape, and whenhe got clear of the clouds and saw miles of desolate rocky countrybefore him bounded by the dark sea in the background and strode down theremainder of the seven miles from the top of Snowdon, his feelings ofthankfulness to the Almighty may be better imagined than described. Hehimself--a first-class walker--always considered they were the longestand quickest he ever accomplished. He occupied two hours in the ascent, but not much more than an hour in the descent, reaching, just at theedge of dark, the high-road where the words "Pitt's Head" were paintedin large letters on some rocks, which he afterwards learned representedan almost exact profile of the head of William Pitt the famous PrimeMinister. He stayed for tea at Beddgelert and then walked down the Passof Aberglaslyn on a tree-covered road in almost total darkness, with thecompany of roaring waters, which terrified him even more than thedangers he had already encountered, as far as Tremadoc, where he stayedthe night. 

We had a dismal descent from Ben Nevis, and much more troublesome andlaborious than the ascent, for our guide's illness had become more acuteand he looked dreadfully ill. It was a pitiable sight to see him when, with scarcely strength enough to stand, he leaned heavily upon his staffon one side and on ourselves alternately on the other. We could not helpfeeling sorry for him for we had so recently suffered from the samecomplaint ourselves, though in a much milder form. We were compelled towalk very slowly and to rest at frequent intervals, and to add to ourmisery the rain was falling heavily. We were completely saturated longbefore reaching Fort William, and were profoundly thankful when welanded our afflicted friend at his own door. We handed him his full fee, and he thanked us and said that although he had ascended Ben Nevis onnearly 1, 200 occasions, this was the only time he had failed. 

[Illustration: BEN NEVIS]

We had not been quite satisfied that the cause assigned to our attack atInverness was the real one, as we had drunk so little water there. Wethought now that there might be some infectious epidemic passing throughthat part of Scotland, perhaps a modified form of the cholera thatdecimated our part of England thirty or forty years before, and that ourguide as well as ourselves had contracted the sickness in that way. 

We must not forget to record that on our way up the "Ben" we saw a mostbeautiful rainbow, which appeared to great advantage, as it spreaditself between us and the opposite hills, exhibiting to perfection allits seven colours. 

We were as hungry as hunters when we returned to our lodgings, and, after changing some of our clothes and drying the others, we sat down tothe good things provided for our noon dinner, which we washed down withcopious libations of tea. 

As the rain continued, we decided to stop another night at Mrs. MacPherson's, so we went out to make some purchases at the chemist'sshop, which also served as an emporium--in fact as a general stores. Wehad a chat with the proprietor, who explained that Fort William was avery healthy place, where his profession would not pay if carried onalone, so he had to add to it by selling other articles. The Fort, hetold us, was originally built in the time of Cromwell by General Monk tooverawe the Highlanders, but was afterwards re-erected on a smallerscale by William III; hence its name of Fort William. 

[Illustration: BEN NEVIS AS SEEN FROM BANAVIE. ]

We asked the chemist if he could recommend to us a good shoemaker, whocould undertake to sole and heel two pairs of boots before morning, asours were showing signs of wear-and-tear owing to the long distances wehad walked both before and after reaching John o' Groat's. This hepromised to do, and he sent one across to Mrs. MacPherson's immediately. After we had parted with our boots, we were prisoners for the remainderof the day, though we were partially reconciled to our novel positionwhen we heard the wind driving the rain against the windows instead ofagainst ourselves. But it seemed strange to us to be sitting down hourafter hour reading the books our hostess kindly lent to us instead ofwalking on the roads. The books were chiefly historical, and interestedus, as they related to the country through which we were passing. Terrible histories they contained too! describing fierce battles andmurders, and giving us the impression that the Scots of the olden timeswere like savages, fighting each other continually, and that for themere pleasure of fighting. Especially interesting to us was the recordof the cruel massacre of Glencoe, for we intended visiting there, ifpossible, on the morrow. It was not the extent of the carnage on thatoccasion, but the horrible way in which it was carried out, that excitedthe indignation of the whole country, and my brother spent some time incopying in his note-book the following history of--

 THE MASSACRE OF GLENCOE

 After King William had defeated the Highland Clans, he gave the Highland Chiefs a year and a half to make their submission to his officers, and all had done this except MacDonald of Glencoe, whose Chief--MacIan--had delayed his submission to the last possible day. He then went to Fort William to tender his Oath of Allegiance to the King's Officer there, who unfortunately had no power to receive it, but he gave him a letter to Sir Colin Campbell, who was at Inverary, asking him to administer the Oath to MacIan. The aged Chief hastened to Inverary, but the roads were bad and almost impassable owing to a heavy fall of snow, so that the first day of January, 1692, had passed before he could get there; Campbell administered the Oath and MacIan returned to Glencoe thinking that all was now right. But a plot was made against him by the Campbells, whose flocks and herds, it was said, the MacDonalds had often raided, and it was decided to punish MacIan and to exterminate his clan; and a company of the Earl of Argyle's regiment, commanded by Captain Campbell of Glenlyon, was sent to Glen Coe to await orders. MacIan's sons heard that the soldiers were coming, and thought that they were coming to disarm them, so they removed their arms to a place of safety, and, with a body of men, they went to meet the soldiers to ask if they were coming as friends or foes. They assured them that they were coming as friends and wished to stay with them for a short time, as there was no room for them, for the garrison buildings at Fort William were already full of soldiers. Alaster MacDonald, one of MacIan's sons, had married a niece of Glenlyon's, so that the soldiers were cordially received and treated with every possible hospitality by MacIan and his Clan, with whom they remained for about a fortnight. 

 Then Glenlyon received a letter from Duncanson, his commanding officer, informing him that all the MacDonalds under seventy years of age must be killed, and that the Government was not to be troubled with prisoners. Glenlyon lost no time in carrying out his orders. He took his morning's draught as usual at the house of MacIan's son, who had married his niece, and he and two of his officers accepted an invitation to dinner from MacIan, whom, as well as the whole clan, he was about to slaughter. At four o'clock the next morning, February 13, 1692, the massacre was begun by a party of soldiers, who knocked at MacIan's door and were at once admitted. Lindsay, who was one of the officers who had accepted his invitation to dinner, commanded the party, and shot MacIan dead at his own bedside while he was dressing himself and giving orders for refreshments to be provided for his visitors. His aged wife was stripped by the savage soldiers, who pulled off the gold rings from her fingers with their teeth, and she died next day from grief and the brutal treatment she had received. The two sons had had their suspicions aroused, but these had been allayed by Glenlyon. However, an old servant woke them and told them to flee for their lives as their father had been murdered, and as they escaped they heard the shouts of the murderers, the firing of muskets, the screams of the wounded, and the groans of the dying rising from the village, and it was only their intimate knowledge of the almost inaccessible cliffs that enabled them to escape. At the house where Glenlyon lodged, he had nine men bound and shot like felons. A fine youth of twenty years of age was spared for a time, but one, Captain Drummond, ordered him to be put to death; and a boy of five or six, who had clung to Glenlyon's knees entreating for mercy and offering to become his servant for life if he would spare him, and who had moved Glenlyon to pity, was stabbed by Drummond with a dirk while he was in the agony of supplication. Barber, a sergeant, with some soldiers, fired on a group of nine MacDonalds who were round their morning fire, and killed four of them, and one of them, who escaped into a house, expressed a wish to die in the open air rather than inside the house, "For your bread, which I have eaten, " said Barber, "I will grant the request. " Macdonald was accordingly dragged to the door, but he was an active man and, when the soldiers presented their firelocks to shoot him, he cast his plaid over their eyes and, taking advantage of their confusion and the darkness, he escaped up the glen. Some old persons were also killed, one of them eighty years of age; and others, with women and children who had escaped from the carnage half clad, were starved and frozen to death on the snow-clad hills whither they had fled. 

 The winter wind that whistled shrill, The snows that night that cloaked the hill, Though wild and pitiless, had still Far more than Southern clemency. 

It was thrilling to read the account of the fight between the two Clans, Mackenzie and MacDonnell, which the Mackenzies won. When the MacDonnellswere retreating they had to cross a river, and those who missed the fordwere either drowned or killed. A young and powerful chief of theMacDonnells in his flight made towards a spot where the burn rushedthrough a yawning chasm, very wide and deep, and was closely followed byone of the victorious Mackenzies; but MacDonnell, forgetting the dangerof the attempt in the hurry of his flight and the agitation of themoment, and being of an athletic frame and half naked, made a desperateleap, and succeeded in clearing the rushing waters below. 

Mackenzie inconsiderately followed him, but, not having the impulse ofthe powerful feelings that had animated MacDonnell, he did not reach thetop of the opposite bank, succeeding only in grasping the branch of abirch tree, where he hung suspended over the abyss. Macdonnell, findinghe was not being followed, returned to the edge of the chasm, and, seeing Mackenzie's situation, took out his dirk, and as he cut off thebranch from the tree he said, "I have left much behind me with youto-day; take that also, " and so Mackenzie perished. 

There was another incident of Highland ferocity that attracted uspowerfully, and read as follows: "Sir Ewen encountered a very powerfulEnglish officer, an over-match for him in strength, who, losing hissword, grappled with the chief, and got him under; but Lochiel'spresence of mind did not forsake him, for grasping the Englishman by thecollar and darting at his extended throat with his teeth, he tore awaythe bloody morsel, which he used to say was the sweetest morsel he hadever tasted. "

We felt that the people hereabouts were still of another nation. Thedescendants of Prince Charlie's faithful adherents still clung to theirancient religion, and they preserved many of their old customs andtraditions in spite of the changes in outlook which trade and the greatcanal had brought about. 

It was therefore not to be wondered at that, after impressing ourmemories with these and other fearful stories and eating the heavysupper provided for us by our landlady, our dreams that night ratherdisturbed our slumbers. 

[Illustration: SCENE OF THE MASSACRE OF GLENCOE. "Especiallyinteresting to us was the account of the cruel massacre of Glencoe. Herewas enacted one of the blackest crimes in the annals of Scottishhistory. "]

Personally I was in the middle of a long journey, engaged indisagreeable adventures in which I was placed at a considerabledisadvantage, as I was walking without my boots, when I was relievedfrom an unpleasant position by the announcement that it was six o'clockand that our boots had arrived according to promise. 

(_Distance walked nine miles_. )

_Friday, September 29th. _

There was a delightful uncertainty about our journey, for everything wesaw was new to us, and we were able to enjoy to the fullest extent themagnificent mountain and loch scenery in the Highlands of Scotland, withwhich we were greatly impressed. It was seven o'clock in the morning, ofwhat, fortunately for us, proved to be a fine day, as we left FortWilliam, and after coming to the end of the one street which formed thetown we reached a junction of roads, where it was necessary to inquirethe way to Glencoe. We asked a youth who was standing at the door of ahouse, but he did not know, so went into the house to inquire, and cameout with the information that we could get there either way. We hadalready walked along the full length of Loch Ness, Loch Oich, and LochLochy, so we decided to walk alongside Loch Linnhe, especially as thatroad had the best surface. So on we went at a quick pace, for thehalf-day's holiday yesterday had resulted in renewed energy. We couldsee the great mountains in front which we knew we must cross, and afterwalking three and a half miles we met a pedestrian, who informed us thatwe were on the right way, and must go on until we reached Ballachulish, where we could cross the ferry to Glencoe. 

This information rather troubled us, as we had determined to walk allthe way, so he advised us to go round the "Head of the Loch"--anexpression we often heard used in Scotland--and to make our way thereacross the open country; in this case the loch was Loch Leven, so weleft the highway and Loch Linnhe and walked to a small farm we could seein the distance. The mistress was the only person about, but she couldonly speak Gaelic, and we were all greatly amused at our efforts to makeourselves understood. Seeing some cows grazing quite near, my brothertook hold of a quart jug standing on a bench and, pointing to the cows, made her understand that we wanted a quart of milk, which she handed tous with a smile. We could not ask her the price, so we handed herfourpence, the highest price we had known to have been paid for a quartof the best milk at home, and with which she seemed greatly pleased. 

We were just leaving the premises when the farmer came up, and hefortunately could speak English. He told us he had seen us from adistance, and had returned home, mistaking us for two men whooccasionally called upon him on business. He said we had gone "threemiles wrong, " and took great pains to show us the right way. Taking usthrough a fence, he pointed out in the distance a place where we shouldhave to cross the mountains. He also took us to a track leading off inthat direction, which we were to follow, and, leaving him, we went onour way rejoicing. But this mountain track was a very curious one, as itbroke away in two or three directions and shortly disappeared. It wasunfenced on the moorland, and there were not enough people travellingthat way to make a well-defined path, each appearing to have travelledas he pleased. We tried the same method, but only to find we had goneout of the nearest way. We crossed several small burns filled withdelightfully clear water, and presently saw another house in thedistance, to which we now went, finding it to be the shepherd's house. 

Here the loud and savage barking of a dog brought out the shepherd'swife, who called the dog away from us, and the shepherd, who was havinghis breakfast, also made his appearance. He directed us to a smallriver, which he named in Gaelic, and pointed to a place where it couldeasily be forded, warning us at the same time that the road over thehills was not only dangerous, but difficult to find and extremelylonely, and that the road to Glencoe was only a drovers' road, used fordriving cattle across the hills. We made the best of our way to theplace, but the stream had been swollen by the recent rains, and weexperienced considerable difficulty in crossing it. At length, aftersundry walkings backwards and forwards, stepping from one large stone toanother in the burn, we reached the opposite bank safely. The onlymishap, beyond getting over shoe-tops in the water, was the dropping ofone of our bags in the burn; but this we were fortunate enough torecover before its contents were seriously damaged or the bag carriedaway by the current. 

[Illustration: THE PASS. ]

We soon reached the road named by the shepherd, which was made of largeloose stones. But was it a road? Scotland can boast of many good roads, and has material always at hand both for construction and repair; butof all the roads we ever travelled on, this was the worst! Presently wecame to a lonely cottage, the last we were to see that day, and wecalled to inquire the way, but no English was spoken there. This wasunfortunate, as we were in doubt as to which was our road, so we had tofind our way as best we could. Huge rocks and great mountains rearedtheir heads on all sides of us, including Ben Nevis, which we couldrecognise owing to the snowy coverlet still covering his head. Thecountry became very desolate, with nothing to be seen but huge rocks, inaccessible to all except the pedestrian. Hour after hour we toiled upmountains--sometimes we thought we reached an elevation of two thousandfeet--and then we descended into a deep ravine near a small loch. Whocould forget a day's march like this, now soaring to an immense heightand presently appearing to descend into the very bowels of the earth! Wemust have diverged somewhat from the road known as the "Devil'sStaircase, " by repute the worst road in Britain, for the track we wereon was in one section like the bed of a mountain torrent and could nothave been used even by cattle. Late in the afternoon we reached theproper track, and came up with several herds of bullocks, about threehundred in number, all told, that were being driven over the mountainsto find a better home in England, which we ourselves hoped to do later. 

[Illustration: IN GLENCOE. ]

We were fortunate in meeting the owner, with whom we were delighted toenter into conversation. When we told him of our adventures, he said wemust have missed our way, and congratulated us on having a fine day, asmany persons had lost their lives on those hills owing to the suddenappearance of clouds. He said a heap of stones we passed marked the spotwhere two young men had been found dead. They were attempting to descendthe "Devil's Stair, " when the mist came on, and they wandered about inthe frost until, overcome by sleep, they lay down never to rise again inthis world. 

He had never been in England, but had done business with many of thenobility and gentlemen there, of whom several he named belonged to ourown county of Chester. He had heard that the bullocks he sold to them, after feeding on the rich, pastures of England for a short time, grew toa considerable size, which we thought was not to be wondered at, considering the hardships these shaggy-looking creatures had to battlewith in the North. We got some information about our farther way, notthe least important being the fact that there was a good inn in the Passof Glencoe; and he advised us to push on, as the night would soon becoming down. 

[Illustration: THE PASS IN GLENCOE. ]

At the close of day we could just see the outline of a deep, dark valleywhich we knew was the Pass of Glencoe, with a good road, hundreds offeet below. Acting on the advice of the drover, we left the road anddescended cautiously until we could go no farther in safety; then wecollected an enormous number of old roots, the remains of a forest ofbirch trees which originally covered the mountain-side, and with somedry heather lighted an enormous tire, taking care to keep it withinbounds. A small rill trickling down the mountain-side supplied us withwater, and, getting our apparatus to work and some provisions from ourbags, we sat down as happy as kings to partake of our frugal meal, tothe accompaniment of the "cup that cheers but not inebriates, " waitingfor the rising of the full moon to light us on our farther way to theroad below. We were reclining amongst the heather, feeling thankful tothe Almighty that we had not shared the fate of the two young men whosecairn we had seen on the hills above--an end we might easily have met, given the weather of yesterday and similar conditions--when suddenly weheard voices below us. Our fire now cast a glare around it, andeverything looked quite dark beyond its margin. Our feelings of surpriseincreased as from the gloom emerged the gigantic figures of two stalwartHighlanders. We thought of the massacre of Glencoe, for these men werenearly double our size; and, like the Macdonalds, we wondered whetherthey came as friends or foes, since we should have fared badly had itbeen the latter. But they had been attracted by the light of our fire, and only asked us if we had seen "the droves. " We gave them all theinformation we could, and then bidding us "good night" they quietlydeparted. 

[Illustration: "THE SISTERS, " GLENCOE. "Here was wild solitude inearnest. . . . The scene we looked upon was wild and rugged, as ifconvulsed by some frightful cataclysm. "]

The darkness of the night soon became modified by the reflected lightfrom the rising moon behind the great hills on the opposite side of theglen. We extinguished the dying embers of our fire and watched the fullmoon gradually appearing above the rocks, flooding with her gloriouslight the surrounding scene, which was of the sublimest grandeur andsolitude. 

[Illustration: THE RIVER COE, GLENCOE. ]

Many descriptions of this famous glen have been written, and no one whocould see it under such favourable and extraordinary conditions as weenjoyed that night would be disposed to dispute the general opinion ofits picturesque and majestic beauty. Surely Nature is here portrayed inher mightiest form! How grand, and yet how solemn! See the huge massesof rock rising precipitously on both sides of the glen and rearing theirrugged heads towards the very heavens! Here was wild solitude inearnest, and not even the cry of the eagle which once, and even now, hadits abode in these vast mountain recesses broke the awful silence whichthat night prevailed in the Pass, disturbed only by the slumberousrippling of water. The scene we looked upon was wild and rugged, as ifconvulsed by some frightful cataclysm, and we saw it under conditions inwhich Nature conspired to enhance its awfulness--a sight which fewpainters could imitate, few writers could graphically describe. Theinfidel may deny the existence of the Creator of the universe, but therewas here sufficient to fill the soul with awe and wonder, and toinfluence even the sceptic to render acknowledgment to the great God whoframed these majestic hills. The reflection of the moon on the hills wasmarvellous, lighting up the white road at the upper end of the pass andthe hills opposite, and casting great black shadows elsewhere which madethe road appear as if to descend and vanish into Hades. We fancied as weentered the pass that we were descending into an abyss from which itwould be impossible to extricate ourselves; but we were brought up sharpin our thoughts, for when we reached the road it suddenly occurred to usthat we had forgotten to ask in which direction we had to turn for the"Clachaig Inn" named by the drover. 

We sat down by the roadside in the hope that some one would come fromwhom we might obtain the information, and were just beginning to thinkit was a forlorn hope when we heard the sound of horse's feetapproaching from the distance. Presently the rider appeared, who provedto be a cattle-dealer, he told us he had some cattle out at the foot ofthe glen, and said the inn was seven miles away in the direction inwhich he was going. We asked him if he would kindly call there and tellthem that two travellers were coming who required lodgings for thenight. This he promised to do, and added that we should find the inn onthe left-hand side of the road. We then started on our seven-mile walkdown the Pass of Glencoe in the light of the full moon shining from aclear sky, and in about an hour's time in the greatest solitude we werealmost startled by the sudden appearance of a house set back from theleft-hand side of the road with forms and tables spread out on the grassin front. Could this be the inn? It was on the left-hand side, but wecould not yet have walked the distance named by the cattle-dealer; so weknocked at the door, which was opened by a queer-looking old man, whotold us it was not the inn, but the shepherd's house, and that the formsand tables in front were for the use of passengers by the coach, whocalled there for milk and light refreshments. Then the mistress, who wasmore weird-looking still, came forward, and down the passage we couldsee other strange-looking people. The old lady insisted upon our comingin, saying she would make us some porridge; but my brother, whose nervesseemed slightly unstrung, thought that we might never come out of thehouse again alive! We found, however, that the company improved oncloser acquaintance. 

The meal was served in two deep bowls, and was so thick that when ourspoons were placed in it on end they stood upright without any furthersupport, so it was, as the Lancashire people describe it, proper "thickporridge. " We were unable to make much impression on it, as we had notyet digested the repast we had enjoyed on the hills above, and the goodold lady added to our difficulties by bringing a plentiful supply ofmilk. It was the first time we had tasted meal porridge in Scotland. Needless to say, after paying our hostess for her hospitality, we wereallowed to depart in peace, nor were we molested during the remainder ofour romantic evening walk. After proceeding about two miles fartheramidst some of the most lonely and impressive scenery in the Highlands, we arrived at the "Clachaig Inn. " It was after closing-time, but as thegentleman on horseback had delivered our message according to promise, the people of the inn were awaiting our arrival. We received a friendlywelcome, and proceeded to satisfy what remained of a formerly voraciousappetite by a weak attack on the good things provided for supper, afterwhich, retiring to rest in the two beds reserved for us, we slept sosoundly that in the morning when roused by a six-o'clock call we couldnot recall that our dreams had been disturbed even by the awful massacreenacted at Glencoe, which place was now so near. 

(_Distance walked thirty miles_. )

_Saturday, September 30th. _

By seven o'clock a. M. We were again on the road bound for Inverary, which place we were anxious to visit, as it had recently been the sceneof a royal wedding, that of the Princess Louise with the Marquis ofLorne. The morning was beautifully fine, but there had been a frostduring the night and the grass on the sides of the road was quite white. The sky was clear, not a cloud being visible as we resumed our walk downthe glen, and in about three miles we reached the village of Glencoe. Here we heard blasting operations being carried on quite near our road, and presently we reached the edge of the loch, where there was a pierand a ferry. We now found that in directing us to Inverary our friendsat the inn had taken it for granted that we wished to go the nearestway, which was across this ferry, and we were told there were others tocross before reaching Inverary. We therefore replenished our stock ofprovisions at the village shop and turned back up the glen, so thatafter seeing it in the light of the full moon the night before we hadnow the privilege of seeing it in the glorious sunshine. We walked onuntil we got to the shepherd's house where we had been treated to such aheavy repast of meal porridge the previous evening, and there we had asubstantial meal to fortify us for our farther journey. On our way upthe glen we had passed a small lake at the side of our road, and asthere was not sufficient wind to raise the least ripple on its surfaceit formed a magnificent mirror to the mountains on both sides. Severalcarts laden with wool had halted by the side of the lake and these alsowere reflected on its surface. We considered the view pictured in thislake to be one of the prettiest sights we had ever seen in the sunshine, and the small streams flowing down the mountain sides looked verybeautiful, resembling streaks of silver. We compared the scene inimagination with the changes two months hence, when the streams would belines of ice and the mountain roads covered with a surface of frozensnow, making them difficult to find and to walk upon, and renderingtravelling far less pleasant than on this beautiful morning. We oftenthought that we should not have completed our walk if we had undertakenit at the same period of the year but in the reverse direction, since wewere walking far too late in the season for a journey of thisdescription. We considered ourselves very fortunate in walking from Johno' Groat's to Land's End, instead of from Land's End to John o' Groat's, for by the time we finished deep snow might have covered these Northernaltitudes. How those poor women and children must have suffered at thetime of the massacre of Glencoe, when, as Sir Walter Scott writes--

 flying from their burning huts, and from their murderous visitors, the half-naked fugitives committed themselves to a winter morning of darkness, snow, and storm, amidst a wilderness the most savage in the Western Highlands, having a bloody death behind them, and before them tempest, famine, and desolation when some of them, bewildered by the snow-wreaths, sank in them to rise no more!

[Illustration: BRIDGE OF ORCHY. ]

They were doubtless ignorant of the danger they were in, even as theyescaped up the glen, practically the only way of escape from Glencoe, for Duncanson had arranged for four hundred soldiers to be at the topend of the pass at four o'clock that morning, the hour at which themassacre was to begin at the other end. Owing to the heavy fall of snow, however, the soldiers did not arrive until eleven o'clock in theforenoon--long after the fugitives had reached places of safety. 

Like many other travellers before us, we could not resist passing abitter malediction on the perpetrators of this cruel wrong, althoughthey had long since gone to their reward. And yet we are told that ithastened that amalgamation of the two kingdoms which has been productiveof so much good. 

We had our breakfast or lunch served on one of the tables ranged outsidethe front of the shepherd's house, and in quite a romantic spot, whencewe walked on to a place which had figured on mileposts for a longdistance named "Kingshouse. " Here we expected to find a village, but asfar as we could see there was only one fairly large house there, andthat an inn. What king it was named after did not appear, but there wasno other house in sight. Soon after passing it we again came in contactwith the master cattle-drover we had interviewed the day before, whotold us that he had brought his bullocks from the Isle of Skye, fromwhich place they had to travel seventy-one miles. We also passed severalother droves, some of which we might have seen previously, and bynightfall came to Inveroran. Here we saw a comfortable inn which wouldhave just suited us, but as there was no church there and the next daywas Sunday, we decided to walk to the next village, about three milesfarther on, where we were informed there was a church, and a drover'shouse quite near it where we could get lodgings. By this time it wasquite dark, and we passed Loch Tulla without either seeing it or knowingit was there, and arriving at the Bridge of Orchy we found the drover'shouse near the church. To our great disappointment the accommodation hadall been taken up, and the only place that the lady of the house knew ofin the direction we were going was a farmhouse about four miles away, where she said, with a tone of doubt in her voice, "we might get in!" Wecrossed the bridge and passed over the River Orchy, which connected LochTulla with Loch Awe, some sixteen miles distant. 

Fortunately for us the moon now rose, though obscured by great blackclouds, which we could see meant mischief, probably to make us paydearly for the lovely weather during the day. But luckily there wassufficient light to enable us to see the many burns that crossed thesurface of the road, otherwise it would have been impossible for us tohave found our way. The streams were very numerous, and ran into theriver which flowed alongside our road, from among some great hills theoutlines of which we could see dimly to the left. We were tired, and themiles seemed very long, but the excitement of crossing the rushingwaters of the burns and the noise of the river close by kept us awake. We began to think we should never reach that farmhouse, and that we hadeither missed our way or had been misinformed, when at length we reachedthe desired haven at a point where a gate guarded the entrance to themoor. All was in darkness, but we went to the house and knocked at thefront door. There was no response, so we tried the shutters thatbarricaded the lower windows, our knocks disturbing the dogs at the backof the house, which began to bark and assisted us to waken theoccupants. Presently we heard a sleepy voice behind the shutters, and mybrother explained the object of our visit in a fine flow of language(for he was quite an orator), including references, as usual, to our"walking expedition, " a favourite phrase of his. As the vehement wordsfrom within sounded more like Gaelic than English, I gathered that hisapplication for lodgings had not been successful. Tired as I was, Icould not help laughing at the storm we had created, in which the"walking expedition" man heartily joined. But what were we to do? Herewe were on a stormy night, ten miles from the inn at Dalmally, which foraught we knew might be the next house, hungry and tired, cold and wet;and having covered thirty miles that day and thirty miles the daybefore, how could we walk a further ten miles? Our track was unfencedand bounded by the river on one side and the moors on the other, butpresently we came to a place where the surface of the moor rose sharplyand for some distance overhung the road, forming a kind of a cove. Herewe gathered, some of the dry heather that extended under that whichornamented the sides of the cove, made quite a respectable fire, and ateour last morsel of food, with which unluckily we were poorly provided. To add to our misfortune, the wind grew into a hurricane and whirled thesmoke in every direction, forcing us at last to beat a hasty retreat. 

We now faced the prospect of a night on the moors, and resolved to crawlalong at a sufficient speed to keep up our circulation, stopping at thefirst house we came to. Here again the subdued light from the moonproved useful, for we had not gone very far before we saw what appearedto be a small house on the moor about a hundred yards away. Weapproached it very cautiously, and found it was a small hut. How glad wewere to see that hut! We struck a light, and at once began anexploration of the interior, which we found contained a form, a rustictable reared against the wall, and, better than all, a fireplace with achimney above it about a yard high; the door was lying loose outside thehovel. It may have been a retreat for keepers, though more likely ashelter for men who had once been employed on the land, for attached toit was a small patch of land fenced in which looked as though it hadbeen cultivated. With a few sticks which we found in one corner and ahandful of hay gathered from the floor we lighted a fire, for we werenow becoming experts in such matters; but the smoke seemed undecidedwhich way it should go, for at one minute it went up the chimney, atanother it came down. We went outside and altered the chimney a little, for it was only formed of loose stones, and thus effected an improvementfor a time. The door gave us the most trouble, since being loose we hadthe greatest difficulty in keeping it in its proper position, for thewind was now blowing hard--so much so that we thought at times that thehut itself would be blown over. At last a tremendous gust came, and downwent the chimney altogether. The fire and smoke now made towards thedoorway, so that we had frequently to step outside in order to get abreath of fresh air. We tried to build the chimney up again, but thiswas impossible owing to the velocity of the wind and rain and theexposed situation. Our slender supply of fuel was nearly exhausted, which was the worst feature, as it was imperative that we should keepourselves warm; so we decided to go back towards the river, where we hadseen a few small trees or bushes lining the bank between our track andthe water. Luckily, however, we discovered a dead tree inside theenclosed land, and as I was somewhat of an expert at climbing, I"swarmed" up it and broke off all the dead branches I could reach withsafety, it being as much as I could do to retain my hold on the slipperytrunk of the tree. 

With the dead wood and some heather and pieces of turf we returned ladenand wet through to our dug-out, where we managed to get our fire burningagain and to clear away some of the stones that had fallen upon it. Still there was no sleep for us that night, which was the most miserableone almost that we ever experienced. 

But just fancy the contrast! In the dead of night, in a desolateHighland glen, scaling a stone fence in a pitiless storm of wind andrain, and climbing up a dead tree to break off a few branches to serveas fuel for a most obstinate fire--such was the reality; and thenpicture, instead of this, sitting before a good fire in a comfortableinn, with a good supper, and snug apartments with everyaccommodation--these had been our fond anticipations for the week-end!We certainly had a good supply of wet fuel, and perhaps burned somethingelse we ought not to have done: but we were really prisoners for thenight. The merciless wind and rain raged throughout, and we had to stickto our novel apartment and breathe until daylight the awful smoke fromthe fire we were compelled to keep alight. Yet our spirits were notentirely damped, for we found ourselves in the morning, and often duringthe night, singing the refrain of an old song:

 We'll stand the storm, it won't be long; We'll anchor by and by. 

Just occasionally the gloom thickened when we ventured to think ofdetails, among which came uppermost the great question, "Where and whenshall we get our breakfast?"

(_Distance walked, including that to Dalmally, forty miles_. )

_Sunday, October 1st. _

Soon after daylight appeared the rain moderated, and so did the wind, which now seemed to have exhausted itself. Our sleep, as may easily beimagined, had been of a very precarious and fitful character; still thehut had rendered substantial service in sheltering us from the fury ofthe storm. Soon after leaving our sorry shelter we saw a white housestanding near the foot of a hill beyond the moor, and to this weresolved to go, even though it was a long distance away, as it was nowimperative that we should obtain food. A knock at the door, more thanonce repeated--for it was still very early--at last roused the mistressof the house, who opened the door and with kindly sympathy listened toour tale of woe. She at once lit the fire, while the other members ofthe family were still asleep in the room, and found us some soap andwater, our hands and faces being as black as smoke and burnt stickscould make them. After a good wash we felt much better and refreshed, although still very sleepy. She then provided us with some hot milk andoatcake, and something we had never tasted before, which she called"seath. " It proved to be a compound of flour and potatoes, and after ourlong fast it tasted uncommonly good. Altogether we had an enormousbreakfast, the good wife waiting upon us meanwhile in what we supposedwas the costume common to the Highlands--in other words, minus her gown, shoes, and stockings. We rewarded her handsomely and thanked herprofusely as she directed us the nearest way to Dalmally. 

On arrival at the well-appointed inn there, we received everyattention, and retired to our bedrooms, giving strict orders to thewaiter to see that we were called in time for lunch, and for the Englishservice at the kirk, which he told us would be held that day between oneand two o'clock. In accordance with our instructions we were called, butit was not surprising, after walking quite forty miles since Saturday atdaybreak, that we should be found soundly sleeping when the call came. 

Lunch was waiting for us, and, after disposing of it as hungry folkshould, we went to Glenorchy Church, only to find that, unfortunately, there was no service that day. The minister, who had charge of twoparishes, was holding a service at his other church, seven miles distantup the glen! We therefore hurried to the Free Kirk, which stood inanother part of the village; but as the Gaelic service had been taken atone o'clock and the English service followed it immediately afterwards, the minister had already begun his sermon when we arrived. The door wasshut, so entering quietly and closing it behind us, we were astonishedto find a table in the vestibule with a plate exposing to our view alarge number of coins evidently the result of the collection from theworshippers within. We were surprised at the large proportion of silvercoins, an evidence that the people had given liberally. We added ourmites to the collection, while we wondered what would have become of themoney if left in a similar position in some districts we could think offarther south. We were well pleased with the sermon, and as thecongregation dispersed we held a conversation and exchanged views withone of the elders of the church chiefly on the subject of collections. He explained that the prevailing practice in the Scottish Churches wasfor the collection to be taken--or rather given--on entering the Houseof God, and that one or two of the deacons generally stood in thevestibule beside the plate. We told him it was the best way of taking acollection that we had ever seen, since it did not interrupt orinterfere with the service of the church, and explained the systemadopted in the churches in England. 

In our youthful days collections were only made in church on specialoccasions, and for such purposes as the support of Sunday schools andMissionary Societies. The churchwardens collected the money in large anddeep wooden boxes, and the rattle of the coins as they were dropped intothe boxes was the only sound we could hear, for the congregationremained seated in a deep and solemn silence, which we in our youthfulinnocence thought was because their money was being taken away fromthem. 

In later years brass plates were substituted for boxes in some churches, and each member of the congregation then seemed to vie with hisneighbours for the honour of placing the most valuable coin on theplate. The rivalry, however, did not last long, and we knew one churchwhere this custom was ended by mutual arrangement. The hatchet wasburied by substituting bags, attached, in this case, to the end of longsticks, to enable the wardens to reach the farthest end of the pews whennecessary. 

This system continued for some time, but when collections wereinstituted at each service and the total result had to be placarded onthe outside of the church door, with the numbers and total value of eachclass of coin recorded separately, the wardens sometimes found a fewitems in the bags which were of no monetary value, and could not beclassified in the list without bringing scandal to the church andpunishment to the, perhaps youthful, offenders; so the bags werewithdrawn and plates reinstated, resulting in an initial increase of 10per cent, in the amount collected. 

The church was a large one, and a great number of ladies attended it onSundays, their number being considerably augmented by the lady studentsfrom the Collegiate Institutions in the town, who sat in a portion ofthe church specially reserved for them. 

The Rector of the parish was an elderly man and an eloquent preacher, who years before had earned his reputation in London, where in a minorcapacity he had been described by Charles Dickens as the model East Endcurate. 

Eight gentlemen were associated with him as wardens and sidesmen, allwell-known men in the town, one of whom being specially known for thefaultless way in which he was dressed and by his beautiful pinkcomplexion--the presence of the light hair on his face being scarcelydiscernible, and giving him the appearance of being endowed withperpetual youth. His surname also was that of the gentleman for whom allyoung ladies are supposed to be waiting, so it was not to be wondered atthat he was a general favourite with them, and that some slight feelingof jealousy existed among his colleagues. It was part of their duties tocollect the offerings from the congregation, and afterwards assemble atthe west end of the church, marching two and two in military step to theeast end to hand their collections to the clergyman who stood therewaiting to receive them. 

One Sunday morning, when the favourite collector reached that end of thechurch where most of the young ladies were located, he was surprised tonotice that all of them received him with a smile as he handed them theplate. Several of them actually went so far as to incline their headsslightly, as if adding a nod to their smiles. He thought at first thatthey were amused at something connected with his new suit of clothes--ofwhich, by the way, he was quite proud--but a hasty examination of hisperson from collar downwards showed everything to be in perfect order. He felt annoyed and very uncomfortable when the ladies continued tosmile as he visited each pew, without his being able to ascertain thereason why, and he was greatly relieved when he got away from them torejoin his colleagues. As he was advancing with them up the centre ofthe church his eye chanced to rest for a moment on the contents of hisplate, and there, to his horror, he saw a large white mint-drop aboutthe size of a half-crown, which had been placed face upwards bearing thewords printed in clear red letters, "WILL YOU MARRY ME?" Then heunderstood why the young ladies smiled and nodded acceptance sopleasantly that morning, for, unconsciously, he had been "popping thequestion" all round; although inquired into at the time, the mystery ofthe mint-drop was never satisfactorily solved. 

A gentleman to whom we told this story said it reminded him of anotherof what he called a "swell"--a fine young fellow, with apparently moremoney than sense--who dropped into a country church for service and wasshown into the squire's pew. The squire was old and of fixed habits. After settling in his seat he drew out his half-crown as usual andplaced it on the ledge in front. His companion pulled out a sovereignand ostentatiously put it on the ledge too. The squire stared hard athim and soon reckoned him up. He then placed a second half-crown on thefirst, and the stranger produced a second sovereign. Five times was thisrepeated during the service. At last the churchwarden brought his brassplate, which the squire gravely took and held out to his neighbour, whoswept the five sovereigns on to it in a very grand manner. The squirepicked up one half-crown for the plate and, with a twinkle in his eye, returned the rest to his pocket!

Since the days of King David singing has always been considered a mostvaluable aid in the offering up of prayers and praises to the Almighty, and nothing sounded better in our ears than the hearty singing of a goodold hymn by the entire congregation. But why this period in the ChurchService should have been chosen in later years as a suitable time forthe wardens to disturb the harmony and thoughts of the parishioners byhanding round their collection plates was beyond our comprehension. Theinterruption caused by that abominable practice often raisedunchristian-like feelings in our minds, and we wished at times that theauthor of it, whoever he might be, could be brought to the gallows andpublicly hanged for his services; for why should our devotions bedisturbed by the thought that at any moment during the singing of a hymnthe collector might suddenly appear on the scene, possibly sneaking upfrom the rear like a thief in the night, to the annoyance of every onewithin reach? If the saving of time is the object, why not reduce thelength of the sermon, which might often be done to advantage? or, failing that, why not adopt the system which prevailed in the ScottishChurches?

[Illustration: DUNCAN-BANN-MACINTYRE'S MONUMENT. ]

The elder of the Free Kirk at Dalmally was much interested in what wetold him about our English Services, where the congregations both prayedand sang in positions differing from those adopted in Scotland, and tocontinue the conversation he walked with us as far as Dalmally Bridge, where we parted company. We then continued on our way to visit amonument erected on a hill we could see in the distance "to the memoryof Duncan-Bann-Macintyre, the Glenorchy poet, who was born in the year1724 and departed this life in 1812"; and, judging from the size of themonument, which was in the style of a Grecian temple in grey granite andinscribed to the memory of the "Sweetest and Purest of Gaelic Bards, " hemust have been a man of considerable importance. From that point we hada fine view of Loch Awe, perhaps the finest obtainable, for although itis above twenty miles long, the lake here, in spite of being at itsgreatest breadth, appeared almost dwarfed into a pool within the mightymass of mountains with lofty Ben Cruachan soaring steeply to the clouds, and forming a majestic framework to a picture of surpassing beauty. Thewaters of the lake reflected the beauties of its islands and of itsmountainous banks. These islands all had their own history or clanlegend and were full of mysteries. Inishail, once a nunnery, and forages the burying-place of the clan chieftains; Innischonell, from theeleventh century the stronghold of the Argyll, whence they often sentforth their famous slogan or defiant war-cry, "It's a far cry toLochawe"; Fraoch Eilean, where the hero Fraoch slew and was himselfslain by the serpent that guarded the apples for which the fair Megolonged. 

We then retraced our steps slowly to the Dalmally inn, where we wereserved with tea in the sumptuous manner common to all first-class innsin the Highlands of Scotland, after which we retired to rest, bent onmaking good the sleep we had lost and on proceeding on our journey earlythe following morning. 

THIRD WEEKS JOURNEY

_Monday, October 2nd. _

[Illustration: KILCHURN CASTLE AND LOCH AWE. ]

We left our comfortable quarters at Dalmally at seven o'clock in themorning, and presently reached Loch Awe, with the poet's monument stillin sight and some islands quite near to us in the loch. We soon leftLoch Awe, turning off when we reached Cladich and striking over thehills to the left. After walking about two miles all uphill, we reachedthe summit, whence we had a fine backward view of Loch Awe, which fromthis point appeared in a deep valley with its sides nicely wooded. Herewe were in the neighbourhood of the Cruachan mountains, to which, withLoch Awe, a curious tradition was attached that a supernatural beingnamed "Calliach Bhere, " or "The Old Woman, " a kind of female genie, lived on these high mountains. It was said that she could step in amoment with ease from one mountain to another, and, when offended, shecould cause the floods to descend from the mountains and lay the wholeof the low ground perpetually under water. Her ancestors were said tohave lived from time immemorial near the summit of the vast mountain ofCruachan, and to have possessed a great number of herds in the valebelow. She was the last of her line, and, like that of her ancestors, her existence was bound up with a fatal fountain which lay in the sideof her native hill and was committed to the charge of her family sinceit first came into existence. It was their duty at evening to cover thewell with a large flat stone, and in the morning to remove it again. This ceremony was to be performed before the setting and the rising ofthe sun, that its last beam might not die upon nor its first ray shineupon the water in the well. If this care were neglected, a fearful andmysterious doom would be the punishment. When the father of the CalliachBhere died, he committed the charge to her, warning her of itsimportance and solemnity and the fatality attending its neglect. Formany years this mysterious woman attended carefully to her duties, butone unlucky evening, tired with her exertions in hunting and ascendingthe hills, she sat down by the fountain to await the setting of the sun, and falling asleep, did not awake until morning. When she arose shelooked around, but the vale had vanished and a great sheet of watertaken its place. The neglected well had overflowed while she slept, theglen was changed into a lake, the hills into islets, and her people andcattle had perished in the deluge. The Calliach took but one look overthe ruin she had caused, and all that remained of her large possessionsin the glen was Loch Awe and its islands! Then she herself vanished intooblivion. 

It is strange how these old stories are told with but little variationin so many places. This very story appears in Wales and Ireland andother regions where Celts predominate, and except in one instance, thatof the destruction of the Lowland Hundreds, now under the water ofCardigan Bay, always in connection with a woman. We first heard it inShropshire, but there it was an old woman who lived in a small cottageand possessed the only well in the place, charging the townspeople onefarthing per bucket for the water. In those remote times this formed agreat tax on the poor people, and many were the prayers offered up thatthe imposition might be removed. These prayers were answered, for onenight a great storm arose, the well continued to overflow, and in themorning the old woman and her cottage had disappeared, and in place ofthe well appeared the beautiful Lake of Ellesmere. 

[Illustration: INVERARY CASTLE. ]

We had a fine walk down Glen Aray, with the River Aray on the left forsome distance to keep us company, and after about four miles' walking wecame to a ladder inserted in a high stone wall to the left of our road, which was here covered with trees. My brother climbed up to see what wason the other side, and reported that there was a similar ladder in thewall for descent, that he could see the river rushing down the rocks, and that a pretty little pathway ran under the trees alongside thestream. We had not met a single person since leaving the neighbourhoodof Cladich, and as there was no one about from whom to make inquiries, we took "French leave" and climbed over the fence, to see at once apretty waterfall and to follow a lovely path for a mile or two until itlanded us in one of the main drives from Inverary Castle. Here westopped to consider whether we should proceed or retreat, for we weresure we had been trespassing. My brother reminded me of an experiencethat occurred to us in the previous year in London. Before we began ourwalk home from that great city we visited as many of the sights ofLondon as we could, and amongst these was the famous Tower. We hadpassed through the Gateway, but were then uncertain how to proceed, when, peeping round a corner, we saw a man dressed in a verystrange-looking uniform, whom we afterwards learned was called a"Beef-eater. " We approached him rather timidly to make inquiries, towhich he kindly replied, but told us afterwards that he knew we wereEnglishmen the minute he saw us coming round the corner. Foreigners incoming through the gateway always walked firmly and quickly, while theEnglish came creeping along and looking round the corners as if theywere afraid. "My advice to you, young men, " he said, "when visitingstrange places, is to go on until you are stopped!" So on this occasionwe decided to follow that advice and to go on towards the castle wecould see in the distance. We had not proceeded very far, however, before we met a couple of two-horse open carriages followed by quite anumber of persons on horseback. Feeling rather guilty, we stepped uponthe grass by the roadside, and tried to look as if we were not there, but we could see that we had been observed by the occupants of thecarriages and by their retinue. We knew from their appearance that theybelonged to the aristocracy, and were not surprised to learn that thesecond carriage contained the Duke and Duchess of Argyll, while thepeople on horseback were the younger members of their family. We hadalmost reached the castle when we were stopped by a servant in livery, to whom we explained the cause of our presence, asking him the nearestway to Inverary, which he pointed out. He told us, among other things, that the Duke could drive many miles in his own domain, and that hisfamily consisted of thirteen children, all of whom were living. Wethanked him, and as we retired along the road he had directed us, weconsidered we had added one more adventure to enliven us on our journey. We had only walked a little way from the castle when a lady came acrossthe park to speak to us, and told us that the cannon and the largewooden structure we could see in the park had been used for the "spree"at the royal wedding, when the Marquis of Lome, the eldest son of theDuke, had been married to the Princess Louise of England. She also toldus that the Princess and the Marquis had been staying at the castle ashort time before, but were not there then. Who the lady was we did notknow, but she was of fine appearance and well educated, and from herconversation had evidently travelled extensively both at home andabroad. We thanked her for her courage and courtesy in coming to speakto us, at which she smiled and, bowing gracefully, retired towards thecastle. How her conduct compared with that of some people in England maybe judged from the following extract which we clipped from a Scottishnewspaper shortly afterwards:

 A War Office clerk was riding outside the Oban coach from Inverary. A fellow-passenger at his side remarked, "What a glorious view! what a lovely scene!" to which the young gentleman of the War Office, with a strong glance at the speaker, replied, "Sir, I don't know you; we have not been introduced. "

It was a fine afternoon, and Inverary town looked at its best and quitepleasant in the sunshine, for most of the houses were coloured white. Wehalted awhile at the picturesque sculptured cross, where many a wearypilgrim had rested before us, with a glorious view over Loch Fyne andthe mountains beyond. The church stood at the end of the street, and the"Argyll Arms Hotel" would have been a fine place to stay at for thenight. There was also quite a large temperance hotel where carriagescould be hired; but we had only walked about sixteen miles, so we had toresist these attractions and walk on to Cairndow, a further distance often miles. 

[Illustration: INVERARY CROSS]

Loch Fyne, along the edge of which our road ran all the way to Cairndow, is tidal and about two miles wide at Inverary. We were now on theopposite side of the castle grounds, and could see another entrancegate, which had been decorated for the royal wedding. Fine woods boundedour road on the left until we reached the round hill of Duniquaich, where it turned rather abruptly until at Strone Point it was nearlyopposite Inverary. From this place we had a magnificent view of thedistrict we had just passed through; the splendid castle with its greywalls and the lofty tower on the wooded hill adjoining it contrastedfinely with the whitened houses of the town of Inverary, as it stood inthe light of the setting sun. We journeyed on alongside the loch, whenas the shades of evening were coming on we met a young man and a youngwoman apparently in great distress. They told us they had crossed theloch in a small boat to look for ferns, and as the tide was going outhad thought they might safely leave their boat on the side of the loch, but when they returned they could not find it anywhere. They seemed tohave been equally unsuccessful with regard to the ferns, as we could notsee any in their possession, but we guessed they had other interests, sowe went to their assistance and soon found the boat, which doubtless wasin the place where they had left it. The tide must have receded fartherthan they had anticipated, and they had looked for it too near thewater. We assisted them to launch the boat, and when they were safelyseated the young woman, who had looked far more alarmed than hercompanion, smiled upon us sweetly. In response to their looks and wordsof thanks we wished them a pleasant and safe journey; but we never sawany ferns! Our conversation as we resumed our walk was largely upon thisadventure, and we wondered if the ferns could not have been found aseasily on the other side of the loch as on this--but then we knew thatLove is proverbially blind, and we consigned this fern story to theregion of our mythological remembrances, and were still in good humourand not too tired when we reached the Cairndow inn, where we werehospitably, sumptuously, and we could safely add, when we paid the billnext morning, expensively entertained. But was this partly accounted forby the finely flavoured herrings known as Loch Fyne kippers we had forbreakfast, which were said to fetch a higher price than any others inScotland?

(_Distance walked twenty-five miles_. )

_Tuesday, October 3rd. _

We left Cairndow early in the morning, and soon afterwards turned awayfrom Loch Fyne to ascend a rough and lonely road leading towards LochLong, about eight miles distant. It was a cold, bleak, and showerymorning as we travelled along Glen Kinglas against a strong head wind, which greatly impeded our progress. On reaching the top of the glen, wecame to the small Loch Restil, reposing at the foot of a mountain thesummit of which was 2, 955 feet above sea-level. The only persons we hadseen on our way up the glen were two shepherds on the slope of one ofthe hills some distance from our road; but now we came to two menmending the road, in which great holes had been caused by the heavyrainfall. We chatted with them, and they told us that a little fartheron we should come to "The Rest. " Though it may seem a trifling matter torecord, we were very glad to see those two men, as our way had beenexcessively lonely and depressing, for the pass only reached about 900feet at its crown, while the great hills which immediately adjoined theroad on either side rose to an altitude of from 2, 500 to 3, 300 feet!When we arrived at "The Rest" we found a rock on which were inscribedthe words "Rest and be Thankful, " while another inscription informed usthat "This is a Military Road repaired by the 93rd Regiment in 1768. " Wethought that at one time there must have been a stone placed there, todo duty as a travellers' rest, where weary travellers might "Rest and beThankful, " but nothing of the kind existed now except the surface of theroad on which we were walking. On reaching a short stiff rise, followedby a sharp double bend in the road, we passed the entrance of a trackleading down to "Hell's Glen"; but if this glen was any worse than GlenKinglas which we had just ascended, or Glen Croe which we now descended, it must have been a very dreadful place indeed. Fortunately for us, theweather began to improve, and before we reached Loch Long with its loftyramparts the sun shone out in all its matchless glory and lighted up notonly the loch but the whole of the amphitheatre formed by the loftyhills that surrounded it. A passenger steamboat plying on the bosom ofthe loch lent additional interest to the scene, and the combined viewquite cheered our drooping spirits. The change, both as regarded sceneryand atmosphere, between this side of the pass and the other was reallymarvellous, reminding us of the contrast between winter and summer. Thesight of the numerous little waterfalls flowing over the rocks above tocontribute their quota to the waters of the loch below was quiterefreshing. One of the great hills we had passed without being able tosee its summit--for it was quite near our road--was the well-known BenArthur, 2, 891 feet high, commonly spoken of either as "The Cobbler" or"The Cobbler and his Wife. " It was not until we had got some distanceaway that our attention was called to it. We walked round the head ofLoch Long and crossed a bridge, some words on the iron fixturesinforming us that we were now passing from Argyllshire intoDumbartonshire. The coping on the bridge was of fresh, neatly clippedgrass instead of the usual stonework we expected to find, and lookedvery remarkable; we saw nothing like it on our further travels. 

[Illustration: "REST AND BE THANKFUL, " GLEN CROE. ]

We asked a gentleman who was standing in the road about the variousobjects of interest in the neighbourhood. Pointing to Ben Arthur in thedistance, he very kindly tried to explain the curious formation of therocks at the summit and to show us the Cobbler and his Wife which theywere said to represent. We had a long argument with him, and although heexplained that the Cobbler was sitting down, for the life of us we couldnot distinguish the form either of him or of his Wife. We could see thathe considered we were very stupid for not being able to see objects soplain to himself; and when my brother asked him jocularly for the thirdtime which was the Cobbler and which was his Wife, he became very angryand was inclined to quarrel with us. We smoothed him down as well as wecould by saying that we now thought we could see some faint resemblanceto the objects referred to, and he looked as if he had, as the poetsays, "cleared from thick films of vice the visual ray. "

[Illustration: "THE COBBLER, " FROM ARROCHAR. ]

We thanked him kindly for all the trouble he had taken, and concluded, at first, that perhaps we were not of a sufficiently imaginativetemperament or else not in the most favourable position for viewing theoutlines. But we became conscious of a rather strong smell of whiskywhich emanated from our loquacious friend, from which fact we persuadedourselves that he had been trying to show us features visible only undermore elevated conditions. When we last saw him he was still standing inthe road gazing at the distant hills, and probably still looking at theCobbler and his Wife. 

I asked my brother, as we walked along, why he put his question in thatparticular form: "Which is the Cobbler and which is his Wife?" He toldme he was thinking of a question so expressed many years ago, longbefore revolving pictures were thought of, and when pictures of any kindwere very scarce. A fair was being held in the country, and a showmanwas exhibiting pictures which were arranged in a row alongside his boothor van in such a way that his customers could pass from one picture toanother and which they could see by looking through slightly magnifyingglasses placed in pairs, one to fit each eye after the fashion of a pairof spectacles. Before the show stood a number of small boys who wouldhave been pleased to have a peep at the pictures if they could haveraised the money. Just at that moment a mother with her two little girlsappeared, and when the children came near the show, one of them calledout, "Oh, Ma! may we see the peep-shows? It's only a penny!" whereuponthe mother took out her purse and handed each of the little girls apenny. When the showman saw them approaching, he shouted angrily to thesmall boys who were blocking the entrance; "Get away, you little raggedrascals that have no money, " and then he added in a much milder tone, "and let the little dears come up what's a-going to pay. " When thechildren reached the first peep-show, he said: "Now, my little dears, look straight forwards, blow your noses, and don't breathe upon theglass! Here you see the combat between the Scotch Lion, Wallace, and theEnglish Bulldogs, for eight hundred guineas a side, while the spectatorsare a-looking on in the most facetious manner. Here you see the lion hasgot his paws on one of the dogs whilst he is whisking out the eyes ofanother with his tail!"

The little girls could see a picture but could not quite make out whatit was, so one of them called out: "Please, Mr. Showman, which is thelion and which is the dogs?" and he said: "Oh! whichever you please, mylittle dears, and the likes was never seen, and all for the small sum ofone penny!"

My brother said that when he asked the gentleman which was the Cobblerand which was his Wife he would not have been surprised if he had saidangrily, "Whichever you please, " and had walked away, since he seemed ina very irritable frame of mind. 

Since those "good old times" the character of these country fairs haschanged entirely, and we no longer sing the old ballad:

 Oh yes, I own 'tis my delight To see the laughter and the fright In such a motley, merry sight As at a country fair. 

 Boys on mamma's treacle fed, On spicy cakes and gingerbread. On everybody's toes they tread All at a country fair. 

The village of Arrochar stood in a very pleasant position, at the headof Loch Long amid scenery of the loftiest and most varied description. Illuminated as it was by the magic rays of the sun, we thought it wouldcompare favourably with any other watering-place in the Highlands, andwas just the spot to offer irresistible temptations to those whorequired a short respite from the more busy scenes of life. 

[Illustration: LOCH LOMOND FROM INVERSNAID. ]

We were in high spirits and inclined to speak to every one we saw, so, when we met a boy, we asked him if he had seen a cow on the road, towhich he replied, rather seriously, that he had not. We thoughtafterwards that we had laid ourselves open to a reply like that given bythe Orkneyman at Stromness, for the loss of a cow in Scotland was lookedupon as a very serious matter, but we escaped for a time. Shortlyafterwards, however, we saw a vehicle approaching in the distancelabelled "Royal Mail, " and then another vehicle, similarly marked, passed us from the opposite direction, in which we noticed the boy wehad just seen. When the two conveyances met, they stopped and a numberof bags were transferred from the one conveyance to the other, so thatit was obvious that they were exchanging their sacks of letters. When wecame up to them, the driver of the one that had overtaken us asked if wehad lost a cow, and when we answered "No, " he said, "But didn't you askthe boy there if he had seen one on the road?" When we answered "Yes, "and it was found to be all a joke, there was a general laugh all round, which was joined in heartily by the boy himself, for he had evidentlygot a ride on the strength of the story of the lost cow. We observedthat the cart that overtook us had two horses, whilst that we met hadonly one, so we conjectured that our further way would be comparativelylevel, and this we afterwards found to be correct. The boy did notaltogether miss his opportunity, for when we had reached, as he thought, a safe distance, we heard him shout: "Ask your mother when you get homeif _she_ has seen a cow!"--but perhaps "two calves" would have beennearer the mark. 

We had a lovely two-mile walk between Arrochar and Tarbet, with amagnificent view of Loch Lomond on our way; while before us, across theloch, stood Ben Lomond, a mountain which rises to the height of 3, 192feet above sea-level. 

The scene was one that cannot properly be described--the blue waters, ofthe loch, with the trees beyond, and behind them this magnificentmountain, its top covered with pure white snow, and the sun shining onall, formed a picture beautiful beyond description, which seemed tolift our hearts and minds from the earth to the blue heavens above, andour thoughts to the great Almighty Who is in all and over all in that"land of pure delight where saints immortal reign. "

[Illustration: LOCH LOMOND AND THE BEN. ]

Our road now skirted the banks of Loch Lomond, the largest fresh-waterlake in Scotland or England, being twenty-four miles long and five milesin width at its broadest point, and containing over twenty islands, someof which we saw. At the hotel where we called for tea it was thusdescribed:

 Loch Lomond is the paragon of Scottish lakes. In island beauty unrivalled, for all that forms romance is here--scenery varying and increasing in loveliness, matchless combinations of grandeur and softness united, forming a magic land from which poesy and painting have caught their happiest inspirations. Islands of different forms and magnitude. Some are covered with the most luxuriant wood of every different tint; but others show a beautiful intermixture of rock and coppices--some, like plains of emerald, scarcely above the level of the water, are covered with grass; and others, again, are bare rocks, rising into precipices and destitute of vegetation. 

Scotland has produced many men mighty in mind as well as in body, andtheir ideas have doubtless been enlarged not only by their advancedsystem of education, but by the great things which have surroundedthem--the great rocks and the great waters. So long as these qualitiesare turned in a good direction, all goes well, but when in a bad onelike the "facilis descensus" described in George Cruikshank's greatpicture "The Worship of Bacchus, " then all goes badly. An illustrationof these large ideas turned to a bad account appeared in a story we readof a degenerate son of the North to whom the gods had granted thefulfilment of three wishes: First, he would have a Loch Lomond ofwhisky; secondly, a Ben Lomond of snuff; thirdly, (with some hesitation)another Loch Lomond of whisky. 

We did not attempt the ascent of Ben Lomond, as our experiences ofmountain climbing hitherto had not been very encouraging. Nor did werequire the aid of those doubtful articles so ardently desired by thedegenerate Scot as we walked along the good road, sheltered with trees, that lay alongside Loch Lomond, with the slopes of the high hills to theright and to the left, the great loch with its lovely islands backed bythe mountains beyond. 

Tarbet, which we soon left behind us, was notorious as the port ofMagnus the Norseman, whose followers dragged their boats there from thesea to harry the islands whither so many of the natives had fled forsafety. 

Ninnius, writing in the eighth century, tells of the great King Arthur, who defeated the Scots and drove them for refuge to Loch Lomond, "inwhich there were sixty islands and sixty rocks, and on each an eagle'snest. Every first of May they came together, and from the sound of theirvoices the men of that country knew what should befall during the comingyear. And sixty rivers fell into this remarkable lake, but only oneriver ran from the lake to the sea. " The exactness of every point ratheramused us, for of course the invincible Arthur, like all othermythological heroes, must ever succeed, and he soon cleared the Scotsfrom their stronghold. 

Sir Walter Scott has made this district famous, and we could havelingered long in the region of the Trossachs, and should have beendelighted to see Loch Katrine, close by, which the "Lady of the Lake"had rendered so familiar, but time is a hard taskmaster and we had to becontent with what Loch Lomond provided for us. 

We therefore hurried on, and eventually reached the lovely littlevillage of Luss, where, as we entered, we were welcomed by the warblingof a robin singing out right merrily, as if to announce our arrival. Ourfirst impression soon told us that Luss was well patronised by visitorsand by artists ever on the alert for scenery such as here abounded. Itwas quite an English-looking village, with a small quarry, not asextensively worked as formerly, we were informed, for only about twentymen were now employed. 

Before proceeding farther we called for refreshments, and learned that asteamboat called periodically at Luss. We left this favourite resort bythe Dumbarton road, walking alongside Loch Lomond--one of the finestwalks we ever took and quite baffling description. It was ratherprovoking, therefore, when darkness came on just as we reached thewidest part of the Loch where quite a number of islands could be seen. The road still continued beautiful, being arched over with trees in someplaces, with the stars shining brightly above. 

Luss, we learned, had its place in history as the home of theColquhouns, whose feud with the MacGregors led to such murderousresults. But perhaps its associations with Robert Bruce in his days ofadversity form its greater claim to fame, and the yews on Inch Lonaig, just above, are said to have been planted by him to supply his bowmen. 

Before we reached the end of the loch we turned on the Dumbarton road, following the road for Helensburgh, as we wanted to see the River Clyde. This road was fairly level, but about two miles from Helensburgh it roseto an elevation of about 300 feet. On reaching the top, we saw a sightwhich fairly startled us, for a great stretch of water suddenly andunexpectedly came in view, and across its surface we could see hundredsof gas lights, twinkling like stars in the darkness. We found afterwardsthat they were those of the town of Greenock, on the other side of theClyde Estuary, which was some five or six miles across this, its widestpart. We considered this was one of the greatest sights of our journey, and one well worth while climbing the hill to see. It must, however, benoted that these were the first gas lights we had seen for what seemedto us to be ages. We went straight to the Temperance Hotel, which hadbeen closed for the night, but we gained admission and found comfortablequarters there. 

(_Distance walked thirty-one miles_. )

_Wednesday, October 4th. _

We had pictured Helensburgh, from its name, as a very old town, and wererather surprised when we discovered that it was only founded at theclose of the eighteenth century, by Sir James Colquhoun, who named theplace after his wife, the Lady Helen Sutherland. At the time of ourvisit it was a favourite resort of visitors from across the Clyde andelsewhere. We were unable to explore the town and its environs, owing toa dense mist or fog which had accumulated during the night; and thisprobably accounted for our sleeping longer than usual, for it was quitenine o'clock before we left Helensburgh on our way to Dumbarton. If theatmosphere had been clear, we should have had fine views of Greenock, Port Glasgow, Roseneath Castle, the residence of the Marquis of Lorne, and other places of interest across the Clyde, and of the ships passingup and down the river. As it was, we had to be content with listening tothe busy sounds of labour and the thuds of the steam hammers in theextensive shipbuilding yards across the water, and the ominous sounds ofthe steam-whistles from the ships, as they ploughed their way along thewatery tracks on the Clyde. We were naturally very much disappointedthat we had to pass along this road under such unfavourable conditions, but, as the mist cleared a little, we could just discern the outlines ofone or two of the steamboats as we neared Dumbarton. The fieldsalongside our road were chiefly devoted to the growth of potatoes, andthe fine agricultural land reminded us of England. We stayed to speakwith one of the farmers, standing at his gate, and he told us that hesent potatoes to the Manchester market, which struck us with surprisebecause of the great distance. We also stayed awhile, just beforeentering Dumbarton, as there had been a slight railway accident, probably owing to the fog, and the officials, with a gang of men, weremaking strenuous efforts to remove the remains of a truck which had cometo grief. We were walking into the town quite unconscious of thepresence of the castle, and were startled at its sudden appearance, asit stood on an isolated rock, rising almost perpendicularly to theheight of about 300 feet, and we could only just see its dim outlineappearing, as it were, in the clouds. We left it for future inspectionand, as it was now twelve o'clock, hurried into the town for a noondinner, for which we were quite ready. 

As a sample of the brief way in which the history of an important towncan be summarised, we give the following extract:--

 Dumbarton, immortalised by Osian, possessed in turns by first Edward and John Balliol, the prison of William Wallace, and the scene of that unavailing remorse which agonised the bosom of his betrayer (a rude sculpture within the castle represents Sir John Monteith in an attitude of despair, lamenting his former treachery), captured by Bruce, unsuccessfully besieged by the fourth Edward, reduced by the Earl of Argyll, surprised, while in false security, by the daring of a bold soldier, Captain Crawford, resided in by James V, visited by that fair and erring Queen, the "peerless Mary, " and one of the four castles kept up by the Act of Union. 

And we have been told that it was the birthplace of Taliesin, the earlypoet of the Celts, and Gildas their historian. 

In former times the castle of Dumbarton was looked upon as one of thestrongest places in the world, and, rising precipitously from the levelplain, it appeared to us to be quite impregnable. Captain Crawford'sfeat in capturing this castle equals anything else of the kind recordedin history. In the time of Queen Elizabeth of England, when a quarrelwas raging in Scotland between the partisans of King James and hismother Queen Mary, and when even the children of the towns and villagesformed themselves into bands and fought with sticks, stones, and evenknives for King James or Queen Mary, the castle of Dumbarton was heldfor the Queen; but a distinguished adherent of the King, one CaptainCrawford of Jordanhill, resolved to make an attempt to take it. Therewas only one access to the castle, approached by 365 steps, but thesewere strongly guarded and fortified. The captain took advantage of amisty and moonless night to bring his scaling-ladders to the foot of therock at the opposite side, where it was the most precipitous, andconsequently the least guarded by the soldiers at the top. The choice ofthis side of the rock was fortunate, as the first ladder broke with theweight of the men who attempted to climb it, and the noise of the fallmust have betrayed them if they had been on the other and more guardedside. Crawford, who was assisted by a soldier who had deserted from thecastle, renewed the attempt in person, and, having scrambled up aprojecting ledge of rock, fastened the ladder by tying it to the rootsof a tree which grew midway up the rock. Here they found a footing forthe whole party, which was, of course, small in number. In scaling thesecond precipice, however, one of the party was seized with anepileptic fit, to which he was subject, brought on, perhaps, by terrorin the act of climbing the ladder. He could neither ascend nor descend;moreover, if they had thrown him down, apart from the cruelty of thething, the fall of his body might have alarmed the garrison. Crawford, therefore, ordered him to be tied fast to one side of the ladder, and, turning it round, they mounted with ease. When the party gained thesummit, they slew the sentinel before he had time to give the alarm, andeasily surprised the slumbering garrison, who had trusted too much tothe security of their position. Some of the climbing irons used areshown within the castle. 

[Illustration: DUMBARTON CASTLE]

We now set out from Dumbarton, with its old castle, and the old swordworn by the brave Wallace reposing in the armoury, at the same timeleaving the River Clyde and its fine scenery, which, owing to the fog, we had almost totally missed. We proceeded towards Stirling, where wehoped to arrive on the following day; but we now found ourselves passingthrough a semi-manufacturing district, and gradually it dawned upon usthat we had now left the Highlands and were approaching the Lowlands ofScotland. We thought then and many times afterwards of that verse ofRobbie Burns's:--

 My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe-- My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go. 

We passed through Renton, where there were bleaching and calicoprinting works. A public library graced the centre of the village, aswell as a fine Tuscan column nearly 60 feet high, erected to TobiasSmollett, the poet, historian and novelist, who was born in 1721 nothalf a mile from the spot. The houses were small and not very clean. Thenext village we came to was Alexandria, a busy manufacturing place wherethe chief ornament was a very handsome drinking-fountain erected to amember of the same family, a former M. P. , "by his tenants and friends, "forming a striking contrast to its mean and insignificant surroundingsof one-storied houses and dismal factories. We were soon in the countryagain, and passed some fine residences, including the modern-lookingCastle of Tullichewan situated in a fine park, and reached Balloch atthe extreme end of Loch Lomond, from which point we had a momentary viewof the part of the lake we had missed seeing on the preceding evening. Here we paid the sum of one halfpenny each for the privilege of passingover the Suspension Bridge, which gave us access to a very pleasant partof the country, and crossed one spur of a hill, from the top of which, under favourable conditions, we might have seen nearly the whole of LochLomond, including the islands and the ranges of hills on either side--

[Illustration: MAINS CASTLE, KILMARONOCK]

 Mountains that like giants stand To sentinel enchanted land. 

But though it was only about a mile and a half from our path to thesummit, and the total elevation only 576 feet, 297 of which we hadalready ascended, we did not visit it, as the mist would have preventedan extended view. It stood in a beautiful position, surrounded by woodsand the grounds of Boturich Castle; why such a pretty place should becalled "Mount Misery" was not clear, unless it had some connection withone of the Earls of Argyll who came to grief in that neighbourhood in1685 near Gartocharn, which we passed shortly afterwards. He hadcollected his clan to overthrow the Government of James VII (James II ofEngland) and had crossed the Leven at Balloch when he found Gartocharnoccupied by the royal troops. Instead of attacking them, he turnedaside, to seek refuge among the hills, and in the darkness and amid thebogs and moors most of his men deserted, only about five hundredanswering to their names the following morning. The Earl, giving up theattempt, was captured an hour or two later as he was attempting to crossthe River Clyde, and the words applied to him, "Unhappy Argyll, "indicated his fate. We passed Kilmaronock church in the dark and, aftercrossing the bridge over Endrick Water, entered Drymen and put up at the"Buchanan Arms" Inn, where we had been recommended to stay the night. 

(_Distance walked twenty miles_. )

_Thursday, October 5th. _

We were up early this morning and went to have a look round the villageof Drymen and its surroundings before breakfast. We were quite nearBuchanan Castle, and took the liberty of trespassing for a short time inthe walks and woods surrounding it. The Duke of Montrose here reignedsupreme, his family the Grahams having been in possession for twentygenerations; among his ancestors were Sir Patrick de Graham, who waskilled at the Battle of Dunbar in 1296, and Sir John de Graham, thebeloved friend of the immortal Wallace, who was slain at the Battle ofFalkirk in 1298. The village had been built in the form of a squarewhich enclosed a large field of grass called the Cross Green, withnothing remarkable about it beyond an enormous ash tree supposed to beover 300 years old which stood in the churchyard. It measured about 17feet in circumference at 5 feet from the ground, and was called the BellTree, because the church bell which summoned the villagers to worshipwas suspended from one of its branches. The tree began to show signs ofdecay, so eventually the bell had to be taken down and a belfry built toreceive it. 

[Illustration: THE SQUARE, DRYMEN]

We finished our breakfast at 8. 30, and then, with the roads in afearfully muddy condition owing to heavy downfalls of rain, started onour walk towards Stirling. The region here was pleasing agriculturalcountry, and we passed many large and well-stocked farms on our way, some of them having as many as a hundred stacks of corn and beans intheir stack-yards. After walking about seven miles we arrived at thedismal-looking village of Buchlyvie, where we saw many houses in ruins, standing in all their gloominess as evidences of the devastating effectsof war. Some of the inhabitants were trying to eke out their livelihoodby hand-loom weaving, but there was a poverty-stricken appearance aboutthe place which had, we found, altered but little since Sir Walter Scottwrote of it in the following rhyme which he had copied from an oldballad:

 Baron of Buchlivie, May the foul fiend drive ye And a' to pieces rive ye For building sic a town, Where there's neither horse meat Nor man's meat, nor a chair to sit down. 

We did not find the place quite so bad as that, for there were two orthree small inns where travellers could get refreshments and a chair tosit down upon; but we did not halt for these luxuries until we reachedKippen, about five miles farther on. Before arriving there we overtooktwo drovers who were well acquainted with Glencoe and the Devil'sStairs, and when we told them of our adventures there they said we werevery lucky to have had a fine day when we crossed those hills. They toldus the story of the two young men who perished there, but thought theirdeath was partially caused through lack of food. Kippen, they informedus, was on the borders of Perthshire and Stirlingshire, and when we toldthem we intended calling for refreshments they advised us to patronisethe "Cross Keys Inn. " We found Kippen, or, as it was sometimes named, the Kingdom of Kippen, a pleasant place, and we had no difficulty infinding the "Cross Keys. " Here we learned about the King of Kippen, theScottish Robin Hood, and were told that it was only two miles away tothe Ford of Frew, where Prince Charlie crossed the River Forth on hisway from Perth to Stirling, and that about three minutes' walk from theCross there was a place from which the most extensive and beautifulviews of the country could be obtained. Rising like towers from thevalley of the Forth could be seen three craigs--Dumyate Craig, ForthAbbey Craig, and the craig on which Stirling Castle had been built;spreading out below was the Carse of Stirling, which merged into andincluded the Vale of Monteith, about six miles from Kippen; while thedistant view comprised the summits of many mountains, including that ofBen Lomond. 

[Illustration: OLD BELFRY, KIPPEN]

As usual in Scotland, the village contained two churches--the ParishChurch and the United Free Church. In the old churchyard was an ancientivy-covered belfry, but the church to which it belonged had long sincedisappeared. Here was the burial-place of the family of Edinbellie, andhere lived in olden times an attractive and wealthy young lady namedJean Kay, whom Rob Roy, the youngest son of Rob Roy Macgregor, desiredto marry. She would not accept him, so leaving Balquidder, the home ofthe Macgregors, accompanied by his three brothers and five other men, hewent to Edinbellie and carried her off to Rowardennan, where a sham formof marriage was gone through. But the romantic lover paid dearly for hisexploit, as it was for robbing this family of their daughter that Robforfeited his life on the scaffold at Edinburgh on February 16th, 1754, Jean Kay having died at Glasgow on October 4th, 1751. 

[Illustration: QUEEN MARY'S BOWER, INCHMAHOME. ]

We were well provided for at the "Cross Keys, " and heard a lot aboutMary Queen of Scots, as we were now approaching a district where much ofthe history of Scotland was made. Her name seemed to be on everybody'slips and her portrait in everybody's house, including the smallestdwellings. She seemed to be the most romantic character in the minds ofthe Scots, by whom she was almost idolised--not perhaps so much for herbeauty and character as for her sufferings and the circumstancesconnected with her death. The following concise account of the career ofthis beautiful but unfortunate Queen and her son King James greatlyinterested us. She was born at Linlithgow Palace in the year 1542, andher father died when she was only eight days old. In the next year shewas crowned Queen of Scotland at Stirling, and remained at the Castlethere for about four years. She was then removed to Inchmahome, anisland of about six acres in extent situated in the small Lake ofMonteith, about six miles north of Kippen. In 1547, when six years old, she was sent to France in a Flemish ship from Dumbarton, and in thefollowing year she was married to the Dauphin of France, afterwards KingFrancis II, who died in the year 1560. Afterwards she returned toScotland and went to Stirling Castle, where she met her cousin LordDarnley and was married to him at Holyrood in 1565, her son being bornin 1566. Troubles, however, soon arose, and for a short time she wasmade a prisoner and placed in the Castle of Loch Leven, from which sheescaped with the intention of going to Dumbarton Castle for safety. Herarmy under the Earl of Argyll accompanied her, but on the way they metan opposing army commanded by the Regent Murray, who defeated her army, and Queen Mary fled to England. Here she again became a prisoner and wasplaced in various castles for the long period of nineteen years, firstin one and then in another, with a view probably to preventing her beingrescued by her friends; and finally she was beheaded in 1587 in theforty-eighth year of her age at Fotheringay Castle in Northamptonshire, by command of her cousin, Queen Elizabeth. 

Her son James VI of Scotland, who subsequently became James I ofEngland, was baptised in the Royal Chapel at Stirling Castle in 1566, and in 1567, when he was only about thirteen months old, was crowned inthe parish church at Stirling, his mother Queen Mary having been forcedto abdicate in favour of her son. The great Puritan divine John Knoxpreached the Coronation sermon on that occasion, and the young king waseducated until he was thirteen years of age by George Buchanan, thecelebrated scholar and historian, in the castle, where his class-room isstill to be seen. He succeeded to the English throne on the death ofQueen Elizabeth, and was crowned as King James I of England in the year1603. 

Leaving Kippen, we passed through Gargunnock, with the extraordinarywindings of the River Forth to our left, and arrived at Stirling at 5. 15p. M. , where at the post-office we found a host of letters waiting ourarrival and at the railway-station a welcome change of clothing fromhome. 

(_Distance walked twenty-two miles_. )

_Friday, October 6th. _

Stirling is one of the most attractive towns in Scotland, and we couldnot resist staying there awhile to explore it. It is the "key to theHighlands, " and one of the oldest of the Royal burghs. It was a place ofsome importance in the time of the Romans, as it stood between the twogreat Firths of the Clyde and the Forth, where the Island of Britain isat its narrowest. The first Roman wall was built between the Forth andthe Clyde, and the Second Roman Legion was stationed at Stirling. According to an old inscription on a stone near the Ballengeich road, they kept a watch there day and night, and in A. D. 81 a great battlewas fought near by against 30, 000 Caledonians, who were defeated. Stirling has a commanding geographical position, and all the roadsconverge there to cross the River Forth. It was at Stirling Bridge thatWallace defeated the army of 50, 000 soldiers sent against him in theyear 1297 by Edward I, King of England. The town had also a lively timein the days of Charles Edward Stuart, "Bonnie Prince Charlie, " whosefather, during his exile in France, had been encouraged by the French toreturn and lay claim to the English Crown. Landing in Inverness-shire in1745, Prince Charlie was immediately joined by many of the Highlandclans, and passed with his army through Stirling on his way towardsLondon. Not finding the support they expected from the south, they werecompelled to return, followed closely along their line of retreat by theEnglish Army, and they were soon back again at Stirling, where they madea desperate but unsuccessful effort to obtain possession of the castle, which was held for the English. The Duke of Cumberland's Army by thistime was close upon their heels, and gave them no rest until they caughtthem and defeated them with great slaughter up at Culloden, nearInverness. 

[Illustration: STIRLING CASTLE AND NECROPOLIS. ]

There was much in Stirling and its environs that we wished to see, so wewere astir early in the morning, although the weather was inclined to beshowery. First of all, we went to see the cemetery, which occupies abeautiful position on a hill overlooking the wonderful windings of theRiver Forth, and here we found the tomb of the Protestant martyrs"Margaret and Agnes, " the latter only eighteen years of age, who weretied to stakes at low water in the Bay of Wigtown on May 11th, 1685, and, refusing an opportunity to recant and return to the Roman Catholicfaith, were left to be drowned in the rising tide. Over the spot wherethey were buried their figures appeared beautifully sculptured in whitemarble, accompanied by that of an angel standing beside them; theepitaph read:

 M. O A. 

 MARGARET

 VIRGIN MARTYR OF THE OCEAN WAVE WITH HER LIKE-MINDED SISTER

 AGNES. 

 Love, many waters cannot quench! GOD saves His chaste impearled One! in Covenant true. "O Scotia's Daughters! earnest scan the Page. " And prize this Flower of Grace, blood-bought for you. 

 PSALMS IX. , XIX. 

[Illustration: THE PROTESTANT MARTYRS]

We stayed there for a few solemn moments, for it was a sight thatimpressed us deeply, and then we went to inspect an old stone with thefollowing curious inscription cut on its surface:

 Some . Only . Breakfast . And . Away: Others . To . Dinner . Stay . And . Are . Full . Fed . The . Oldest . Man . But . Sups: And . Goes . To . Bed: large . Is . His . Debt: that . Lingers . Out . The . Day: he . That . Goes . Soonest: has . The . Least . To . Pay:

We saw another remarkable structure called "The Rock of Ages, " a largemonument built of stone, on each of the four sides of which was a Biblesculptured in marble with texts from the Scriptures, and near the top adevice like that of a crown. It was a fine-looking and substantialbuilding, but we could not ascertain the reason for its erection. 

There were two churches quite near to each other standing at one end ofthe cemetery, and these, we were informed, were known as the East andWest Churches, and had been formed out of the old Church of Stirling, formerly noted for its bells, which were still in existence. One ofthem, a Dutch bell, was marked "Rotterdam, 1657, " and inscribed "SoliDeo Gloria"; the only pre-Reformation bell was one that was said to havecome from Cambuskenneth Abbey, measuring 8 ft. 6-1/2 in. Round themouth, 4 ft. 6 in. Over the neck, and 2 ft. 1-1/2 in. In depth, andbearing a Latin inscription, in Old English characters, which was saidto be the angelic salutation from St. Luke i. 28: "Hail, Mary, full ofgrace, God is with thee; blessed art thou among women and to beblessed. " This bell, dating from the fourteenth century, was perfect insound, and had been the tone bell in the old abbey. The remainder of thebells of Cambuskenneth had been lost owing to the swamping of the boatthat was bringing them across the river. 

[Illustration: THE GATEWAY TO THE CASTLE. ]

We now went to view the castle, and as we approached the entrance wewere accosted by a sergeant, whom we engaged to act as our guide. 

 The ramparts of the castle command the noblest prospect imaginable--Grampian, Ochil and Pentland Hills, the River Forth, through all its windings, and "Auld Reekie" in the distance--twelve foughten fields are visible--the bridge where Archbishop Hamilton was hanged, the mound on which the Regent, Earl of Levenax, was beheaded on May 25th, 1425, along with the Duke of Albany, his son-in-law, and his grandson--the chamber where the Scottish King James II was assassinated--a noble valley, where tournaments were held, and the hill, whence Beauty viewed "gentle passages of arms" and rewarded knights' valour with her smiles, lie just below the ramparts. Here James I lived, and James II was born, and it was a favourite residence of James III. From these walls the "Good Man of Ballangeich" made many an excursion, and here James V and James VI were indoctrinated at the feet of that stern preceptor, George Buchanan, and the seventh James and the second of England visited here in company with the future Queen Anne and the last of the Stuarts. 

[Illustration: THE PALACE, STIRLING CASTLE. ]

[Illustration: STIRLING BRIDGE. "At Stirling Bridge Wallace defeated thearmy of fifty thousand soldiers sent against him by Edward I; . . . It wasa battle won by strategy. "]

[Illustration: STIRLING CASTLE. "The ramparts of the castle command thenoblest prospect imaginable--from the top of the walls the sites ofseven battlefields were pointed out to us. "]

Such was the official description of the place we were now visiting. Asour guide conducted us through the archway into the castle, he showed usthe old chains that worked the portcullis. We noted how cautious the oldoccupants of these strongholds were, for while one of the massive doorswas being drawn up the other went down, so that the inner entrance wasalways protected. From the top of the walls the sites of sevenbattlefields were pointed out to us, including those of Bannockburn andStirling Bridge. The Battle of Stirling Bridge was won by Wallace bystrategy; he had a much smaller army than the English, but he watchedthem until they had got one-half their army over the narrow bridge, andthen attacked each half in turn, since the one could not assist theother, the river being between them. In the following year he wasdefeated himself, but as he retreated he reduced Stirling and its castleto ruins. The Bridge of Allan, which could be seen in the distance, wasdescribed as a miniature Torquay without the sea, and the view from thecastle on a clear day extended a distance of nearly fifty miles. We wereshown the aperture through which Mary Queen of Scots watched the gamesin the royal garden below, and of course we had to be shown the exactspot where "our most gracious Majesty Queen Victoria with the Prince ofWales" sat on a much more recent date. The castle stood on a rock, rising precipitously on two of its sides, and was now being used as abarracks. It was a fine sight to see the soldiers as they were beingdrilled. The old Chapel Royal was used as the armoury, and our guidetold us of many objects of interest which were stored there; but we hadno time to see them, so, rewarding him suitably for his services, wehastened back to the town to refresh the "inner man. "

It appeared that in former times none of the members of the Town Councilaccepted any gift or emolument while in office; and, before writing wasas common as it is now, the old treasurer kept his accounts in a pair ofboots which he hung one on each side of the chimney. Into one of them heput all the money he received and into the other the vouchers for themoney he paid away, and balanced his accounts at the end of the year byemptying his boots, and counting the money left in one and that paidaway by the receipts in the other. What a delightfully simple system of"double entry, " and just fancy the "borough treasurer" with a balancealways in hand! Whether the non-payment for services rendered by theCouncil accounted for this did not appear; but there must have been someselect convivials even in those days, as the famous Stirling Jugremained as evidence of something of the kind. It was a fine old vesselmade of brass and taken great care of by the Stirling people, who becamepossessed of it four or five hundred years before our visit. 

We then walked some distance to see Wallace's Monument, the mostconspicuous object for many miles round, and which had only just beenerected to perpetuate the memory of that great warrior, having beenopened by the Duke of Atholl in 1869. We paid twopence each foradmission, and in addition to climbing the hill to reach the entranceto the monument we had to ascend a further 220 feet by means of a flightof 246 steps before we could reach the top. There were several rooms inthe basement, in one of which we found an enthusiastic party of youngScots who were vociferously singing:

 Scots, wha hae wie Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has often led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victorie. 

 * * * * *

 Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow! Let us do or die!

These were the first and last verses of the poem written by the immortalBurns to represent Robert Bruce's address to his army before the Battleof Bannockburn. We did not reveal our nationality to the uproariousScots, but, after listening to the song, which we had never heard sungbefore, and the cheers which followed it, in which we ourselves joined, we went quietly past them, for fear they might treat us as the"usurpers" named in the last verse and "lay _us_ low. "

[Illustration: WALLACE MONUMENT. ]

On reaching the top of the monument we had a magnificent view, whichwell repaid us for our exertions in climbing up the craig and ascendingthe tower, and we lingered awhile to view the almost fairy-like scenethat lay below us, with the distant mountains in the background. Ondescending, we entered our names in the visitors' book and took ourdeparture. 

Just as we were leaving, our attention was attracted by a notice whichinformed us that Cambuskenneth Abbey was only one mile away, so wewalked along the banks of the Forth to that ancient ruin. The abbey wassupposed to have taken its name from one Kenneth, who fought asuccessful battle with the Picts on the site where it was built. AParliament was held within its walls in 1314 by King Robert Bruce, butthe abbey was destroyed, with the exception of the tower, in 1559. Thechief object of interest was the tomb of James III, King of Scots, andhis Queen, the Princess Margaret of Denmark, who were buried near theHigh Altar. The tomb, which appeared quite modern, recorded that KingJames died June 11th, 1488, and that "This Restoration of the Tomb ofher Ancestors was executed by command of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, A. D. 1865. "

We now walked back to Stirling, and were again among the windings of theRiver Forth, which are a striking feature whether viewed from Wallace'sMonument, the Castle walls, or the cemetery. To follow them in someplaces, the traveller, it was said, would have to go four times fartherthan by the straighter road. 

[Illustration: ST. NINIANS CHURCH TOWER. ]

Recovering possession of our bags from the hotel, we resumed our marchalong the road to Falkirk, eleven miles distant, and, on the way, cameto the village of St. Ninians, with its long, narrow street ofdismal-looking houses, many of them empty and in ruins, and some marked"To Let"; and, from their dingy appearance, we imagined they were likelyto remain so. The people who lived in these houses were formerly of evilreputation, as, before railways were constructed so far north, all thecattle from the Western Isles and the North were driven along the roadsto Falkirk to be sold, and had to pass through St. Ninians, which was sodreaded by the drovers that they called this long, narrow street "ThePass of St. Ninians. " For, if a sheep happened to go through a doorwayor stray along one of the passages, ever open to receive them, it wasnever seen again and nobody knew of its whereabouts except the thievesthemselves. We walked along this miry pass and observed what we thoughtmight be an old church, which we went to examine, but found it to beonly a tower and a few ruins. The yard was very full of gravestones. Alarge building at the bottom of the yard was, we were told, what now didduty for the original church, which in the time of Prince Charlie wasused as a powder magazine, and was blown up in 1745 by a party of hisHighlanders to prevent its falling into the hands of the advancingEnglish Army, before which they were retreating. 

Shortly afterwards we overtook a gentleman whom we at first thought wasa farmer, but found afterwards to be a surgeon who resided atBannockburn, the next village. He was a cheerful and intelligentcompanion, and told us that the large flagstaff we could see in thefields to the left was where Robert Bruce planted his standard at thefamous Battle of Bannockburn, which, he said, was fought at midsummer inthe year 1314. Bruce had been preparing the ground for some time so asto make it difficult for the English to advance even though they weremuch more numerous and better armed than the Scots. As soon as thearmies came in sight of each other on the evening of June 24th, KingRobert Bruce, dressed in armour and with a golden crown on his helmet, to distinguish him from the rest of his army, mounted on a small pony, and, with a battle-axe in his hand, went up and down the ranks of hisarmy to put them in order. Seeing the English horsemen draw near, headvanced a little in front of his own men to have a nearer view of theenemy. An English knight, Sir Henry de Bohun, seeing the Scottish kingso poorly mounted, thought he would rise to fame by killing Bruce and soputting an end to the war at once. So he challenged him to fight bygalloping at him suddenly and furiously, thinking with his long spearand tall, powerful horse to extinguish Bruce immediately. Waiting untilBohun came up, and then suddenly turning his pony aside to avoid thepoint of his lance, Bruce rose in his stirrups and struck Sir Henry, ashe passed at full speed, such a terrific blow on the head with hisbattle-axe that it cut through his helmet and his head at the same time, so that he died before reaching the ground. The only remark that Bruceis said to have made was, "I have broken my good battle-axe. "

This fearful encounter and the death of their champion was looked uponas a bad omen by the English, and Sir Walter Scott thus describes it:

 The heart had hardly time to think, The eyelid scarce had time to wink, * * * * *

 High in his stirrups stood the King, And gave his battle-axe the swing; Right on De Boune, the whiles he pass'd, Fell that stern dint--the first--the last!-- Such strength upon the blow was put, The helmet crash'd like hazel-nut; The axe shaft, with its brazen clasp, Was shiver'd to the gauntlet grasp. Springs from the blow the startled horse, Drops to the plain the lifeless corse. 

The battle began on the following morning, Midsummer Day, and the mightyhost of heavily armed men on large horses moved forward along what theythought was hard road, only to fall into the concealed pits carefullyprepared beforehand by Bruce and to sink in the bogs over which they hadto pass. It can easily be imagined that those behind pressing forwardwould ride over those who had sunk already, only to sink themselves inturn. Thousands perished in that way, and many a thrown rider, heavilyladen with armour, fell an easy prey to the hardy Scots. The result wasdisastrous to the English, and it was said that 30, 000 of them werekilled, while the Scots were able afterwards to raid the borders ofEngland almost to the gates of York. 

The surgeon said that in the Royal College of Surgeons in London a ribof Bruce, the great Scottish king, was included in the curios of thecollege, together with a bit of the cancerous growth which killedNapoleon. It was said that Bruce's rib was injured in a jousting matchin England many years before he died, and that the fracture was madegood by a first-class surgeon of the time. In 1329 Bruce died of leprosyin his fifty fifth year and the twenty-third of his reign, and wasburied in the Abbey Church of Dunfermline. In clearing the foundationfor the third church on the same site, in 1818, the bones of the herowere discovered, Sir Walter Scott being present. The breastbone of theskeleton had been sawn through some 500 years before, as was customary, in order to allow of the removal of the heart, which was then embalmed, and given to Bruce's friend, Sir James Douglas, to be carried toPalestine and buried in Jerusalem. 

The surgeon also told us--in order, we supposed, to cheer our droopingspirits--of another battle fought in the neighbourhood of Bannockburn in1488, but this time it was the Scottish King James III who came togrief. He had a fine grey courser given him "that could war all thehorse of Scotland if the king could sit up well. " But he was a cowardand could not ride, and when some men came up shouting and throwingarrows, they frightened the king. Feeling the spurs, the horse went at"flight speed" through Bannockburn, and a woman carrying water, when shesaw the horse coming, dropped her bucket down on the road and ran forsafety. The horse, frightened by the bucket, jumped over the brook thatturned the mill, and threw the king off at the mill door. The miller andhis wife, who saw the accident, not knowing that the rider was the king, put him in a nook in the mill and covered him with a cloth. When he cameround, he asked for a priest and told them he was the king. But he hadfallen into the hands of his enemies. The miller's wife clapped herhands, and ran out crying for a priest for the king. A man called out, "I am a priest; where is the king?" When he saw the king he told him hemight recover if he had a good leeching, but the king desired him togive him the Sacrament. The supposed priest said, "That I shall doquickly, " and suiting the action to the word, he stabbed him severaltimes in the heart. The corpse he took away on his back, no one knewwhither, and the king's soldiers, now leaderless, fled to Stirling andLinlithgow. 

We thanked our friend for his company and bade him farewell, as wereached Bannockburn village. We observed there, as in most villages nearStirling, many houses in ruins or built with the ruins of others. Wethought what a blessing it was that the two nations were now united, andthat the days of these cruel wars were gone for ever! At a junction ofroads a finger-post pointed "To the Bannockburn Collieries, " and we sawseveral coal-pits in the distance with the ruins of an old building nearthem, but we did not take the trouble to inspect them. 

The shades of night were coming on when, after walking a few miles, wesaw an old man standing at the garden gate of a very small cottage bythe wayside, who told us he was an old sailor and that Liverpool hadbeen his port, from which he had taken his first voyage in 1814. Hecould remember Birkenhead and that side of the River Mersey when therewas only one house, and that a farm from which he used to fetchbuttermilk, and when there was only one dock in Liverpool--the Prince's. We thought what a contrast the old man would find if he were to visitthat neighbourhood now! He told us of a place near by named Norwood, where were the remains of an old castle of Prince Charlie's time, withsome arches and underground passages, but it was now too dark to seethem. We proceeded towards Camelon, with the great ironworks of Carronilluminating the sky to our left, and finally arrived at Falkirk. Here, in reply to our question, a sergeant of police recommended us to staythe night at the "Swan Inn, " kept by a widow, a native of Inverness, where we were made very comfortable. After our supper of bread and milk, we began to take off our boots to prepare for bed, but we were requestedto keep them on as our bedroom was outside! We followed our leader alongthe yard at the back of the inn and up a flight of stone steps, at thetop of which we were ushered into a comfortable bedroom containing threebeds, any or all of which, we were informed, were at our service. Havingmade our selection and fastened the door, we were soon asleep, notwithstanding the dreadful stories we had heard that day, and thegreat battlefields we had visited--haunted, no doubt, by the ghosts oflegions of our English ancestors who had fallen therein!

(_Distance walked seventeen miles_. )

_Saturday, October 7th. _

Falkirk, which stands on a gentle slope on the great Carse of Forth, issurrounded by the Grampian Hills, the Ochills, and the Campsie Range. Here King Edward I entirely routed the Scottish Army in the year 1298. Wallace's great friend was slain in the battle and buried in thechurchyard, where an inscription recorded that "Sir John de Grahame, equally remarkable for wisdom and courage, and the faithful friend ofWallace, being slain in the battle by the English, lies buried in thisplace. "

We left the inn at six o'clock in the morning, the only people visiblebeing workmen turning out for their day's work. The last great fair ofthe season was to be held that day, and we had the previous day seen theroads filled with cattle making for Falkirk Fair, perhaps one of thelargest fairs in the kingdom. We had been told by the drovers that theposition was well adapted for the purpose, as the ground was very sandyand therefore not so liable to be trampled into mud by the animals'feet. 

We passed through the village of Laurieston, where Alfred Nobel, theinventor of dynamite and blasting gelatine, lived, and saw a plough atwork turning up potatoes, a crowd of women and boys following it andgathering up the potatoes in aprons and then emptying them into a longrow of baskets which extended from one end of the field to the other. Ahorse and cart followed, and the man in charge emptied the contents ofthe baskets into the cart. We questioned the driver of the plough, whoassured us that no potatoes were left in the land, but that all wereturned up and gathered, and that it was a much better way than turningthem out by hand with a fork, as was usual in England. 

[Illustration: LINLITHGOW PALACE. ]

[Illustration: ANCIENT KEY OF LINLITHGOW PALACE. ]

About two miles farther on we passed the romantic village of Polmont, and on through a fine stretch of country until we reached anotherfair-sized village called Linlithgow Bridge. We were then about a mileand a half from the old town of Linlithgow; here the River Avonseparates the counties of Stirlingshire and Linlithgowshire. The oldbridge from which the place takes its name is said to have been built byEdward I of England. In 1526 the Battle of Linlithgow Bridge was foughtat this spot; it was one of those faction fights between two contendingarmies for predominance which were so prevalent in Scotland at the time, the real object, however, being to rescue King James V from thedomination of the Earl of Angus. The opposing fronts under Angus andLennox extended on both sides of the Avon. The Earl of Lennox was slainby Sir James Hamilton after quarter had been granted to the former. Hissword was afterwards found, and may still be seen in the small museum atLinlithgow. In this village Stephen Mitchell, tobacco and snuffmanufacturer, carried on business and had an old snuff mill here; he wasthe first founder in Great Britain of a Free Library. Burns the Scottishpoet stayed a night here on August 25th, 1787. 

We arrived at the royal and ancient burgh of Linlithgow at about nineo'clock. The town, as Burns says, "carries the appearance of rude, decayed, idle grandeur"; it is, however, very pleasantly situated, withrich, fertile surroundings. There is a fine old royal palace here withinwhich, on December 7th, 1542, the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots wasborn, whose beauty and magnificence have imbued her history with so deepand melancholy an interest. Sir Walter Scott in "Marmion" sings thepraises of this palace as follows:--

 Of all the palaces so fair, Built for the royal dwelling. In Scotland, far beyond compare Linlithgow is excelling. 

We fully endorsed the great Sir Walter's opinion, for it certainly was amagnificent structure and occupied a grand situation, with a large lakein front covering perhaps a hundred acres. We were now, however, gettingravenously hungry, so we adjourned to the hotel for breakfast, which wasquickly served and almost as quickly eaten. The palace was not openuntil ten o'clock, so we had to be content with a view of the exterior, nor could we visit the fine old church, for we wanted to reachEdinburgh, where we had decided to stay the week-end in order to seesome of the sights of the historic capital. 

[Illustration: MONUMENT EXECUTED BY A ONE-ARMED MAN. ]

A halo of deepest interest surrounded the history of Linlithgow, whoseevery stone spoke volumes of the storied past. The traditions of theplace go far back into the dim shadowy regions where historic factmerges into myth and legend. Solid ground is only reached about thetwelfth century. The English had possession of the palace in 1313, andthe way it was taken from them was probably unique in the history ofsuch places. The garrison was supplied with hay for the horses by alocal farmer named Binnock, who determined to strike a blow for thefreedom of his country. A new supply of hay had been ordered, and hecontrived to conceal eight men, well armed, under it. The team wasdriven by a sturdy waggoner, who had a sharp axe concealed in hisclothing, while Binnock himself walked alongside. The porter, on seeingtheir approach, lowered the drawbridge and raised the portcullis toadmit of the passage of the hay within the castle walls. Just as theyreached the centre of the gateway the driver drew his axe and cut offthe tackle that attached the oxen to the waggon, at the same timestriking the warder dead and shouting a preconcerted signal--"Call all!Call all!" "The armed men jumped from amongst the hay, and a strongparty of Scots, who by arrangement were in ambush outside, rushed in andattacked the astonished garrison, who were unprepared for theonslaught--the load of hay being so placed that the gate could not beclosed nor the bridge raised--and so the Scots made themselves mastersof the palace. "

[Illustration: WINDOW IN SOUTH CHANCEL OF ST. MICHAEL'S CHURCH, WHEREJAMES IV SAW THE VISION BEFORE THE BATTLE OF FLODDEN. ]

The last event of any historical interest or importance connected withthis palace was the visit paid to it by Prince Charles Stewart in 1745;it was destroyed in the following year. 

The beautiful old Gothic church of St. Michael is situated close to thepalace. Perhaps no tradition connected with this church is moreinteresting than the vision which is said to have appeared to James IVwhile praying within St. Catherine's Aisle immediately before the Battleof Flodden. According to Lindsay of Pitscottie, on whose authority thetale rests, the King, being "in a very sad and dolorous mood, was makinghis devotions to God to send him good chance and fortune in his voyage"when a man "clad in ane blue gown" appeared to him, and with littleceremony declared to the King that he had been sent to desire him "nochtto pass whither he purposed, " for if he did, things "would not fare wellwith him or any who went with him. " How little this warning was heededby the King is known to all readers of Scottish history. The "ghost, "if it may be called so, was in all likelihood an attempt to frighten theKing, and it is certain that the tale would never have gained the weirdinterest it possesses if Flodden Field had not proved so disastrous. Ithas been helped to immortality by Sir Walter Scott, who in "Marmion" hasinvested Pitscottie's antique prose with the charm of imperishablepoetry. 

[Illustration: THE OLD CROSS WELL. ]

One characteristic of the towns or villages in Scotland through which wepassed was their fine drinking-fountains, and we had admired a very fineone at Falkirk that morning; but Linlithgow's fountain surpassed it--itwas indeed the finest we had seen, and a common saying occurred to us:

 Glasgow for bells, Linlithgow for wells. 

Linlithgow has long been celebrated for its wells, some of them ofancient date and closely associated with the history of the town. Wecame to an old pump-well with the date 1720, and the words "SaintMichael is kinde to straingers. " As we considered ourselves to beincluded in that category, we had a drink of the water. 

[Illustration: THE TOWN HERALD, LINLITHGOW (A survival of the past)]

At the end of the village or town we passed the union workhouse, wherethe paupers were busy digging up potatoes in the garden, and a shortdistance farther on we passed a number of boys with an elderly man incharge of them, who informed us they came from the "institute, " meaningthe workhouse we had just seen, and that he took them out for a walkonce every week. Presently we met a shepherd who was employed by anEnglish farmer in the neighbourhood, and he told us that the man we hadmet in charge of the boys was an old pensioner who had served fifty-twoyears in the army, but as soon as he got his pension money he spent it, as he couldn't keep it, the colour of his nose showing the direction inwhich it went. It struck us the shepherd seemed inclined that wayhimself, as he said if he had met us nearer a public-house he would have"treated us to a good glass. " We thought what a pity it was that men hadnot a better eye to their own future interests than to spend all theirmoney "for that which is not bread, and their labour for that whichsatisfieth not, " and how many there were who would ultimately becomeburdens to society who might have secured a comfortable competency forold age by wisely investing their surplus earnings instead of allowingthem to flow down that awful channel of waste!

[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL'S WELL. ]

We walked through a fine agricultural district--for we were now inMidlothian--adorned with great family mansions surrounded by well-keptgrounds, and arrived in sight of Edinburgh at 1. 30, and by two o'clockwe were opposite a large building which we were told was Donaldson'sHospital, founded in 1842, and on which about £100, 000 had been spent. 

Our first business on reaching Edinburgh was to find suitable lodgingsuntil Monday morning, and we decided to stay at Fogg's Temperance Hotelin the city. We had then to decide whether we should visit EdinburghCastle or Holyrood Palace that day--both being open to visitors at thesame hour in the afternoon, but as they were some distance apart wecould not explore both; we decided in favour of the palace, where wewere conducted through the picture gallery and the many apartmentsconnected with Mary Queen of Scots and her husband Lord Darnley. 

The picture-gallery contained the reputed portraits of all the Kings ofScotland from Fergus I, 330 B. C. , down to the end of the Stuart dynasty;and my brother, who claimed to have a "painter's eye, " as he had learnedsomething of that art when at school, discovered a great similaritybetween the portraits of the early kings and those that followed themcenturies later. Although I explained that it was only an illustrationof history repeating itself, and reminded him of the adage, "Likefather, like son, " he was not altogether satisfied. We found afterwards, indeed, that the majority of the portraits had been painted by a Flemishartist, one John de Witt, who in the year 1684 made a contract, whichwas still in existence, whereby he bound himself to paint no portraitswithin two years, he supplying the canvas and colours, and theGovernment paying him £120 per year and supplying him with the"originalls" from which he was to copy. We wondered what had become ofthese "originalls, " especially that of Fergus, 330 B. C. , but as noinformation was forthcoming we agreed to consider them as lost in themists of antiquity. 

[Illustration: HOLYROOD PALACE. ]

There was much old tapestry on the walls of the various rooms weinspected in the palace, and although it was now faded we could see thatit must have looked very beautiful in its original state. The tapestryin one room was almost wholly devoted to scenes in whichheavenly-looking little boys figured as playing in lovely gardens amidstbeautiful scenery. One of these scenes showed a lake in the backgroundwith a castle standing at one end of it. In the lake were two smallislands covered with trees which were reflected in the still waters, while in the front was a large orange tree, growing in a lovely garden, up which some of the little boys had climbed, one of whom was throwingoranges to a companion on the ground below; while two others wereenjoying a game of leapfrog, one jumping over the other's back. Threeother boys were engaged in the fascinating game of blowing bubbles--onemaking the lather, another blowing the bubbles, while a third was tryingto catch them. There were also three more boys--one of them apparentlypretending to be a witch, as he was riding on a broomstick, whileanother was giving a companion a donkey-ride upon his back. All had theappearance of little cupids or angels and looked so lifelike and happythat we almost wished we were young again and could join them in theirplay!

The rooms more closely connected with the unfortunate Mary Queen ofScots were of course the most interesting to visitors; and in heraudience-room, where she had such distressing interviews with John Knox, the famous Presbyterian divine and reformer, we saw the bed that wasused by King Charles I when he resided at Holyrood, and afterwardsoccupied on one occasion, in September 1745, by his descendant PrinceCharlie, and again after the battle of Culloden by the Duke ofCumberland. 

[Illustration: WEST DOORWAY, CHAPEL ROYAL. ]

We passed on to Queen Mary's bedroom, in which we were greatlyinterested, and in spite of its decayed appearance we could see it hadbeen a magnificent apartment. Its walls were adorned with emblems andinitials of former Scottish royalties, and an old tapestry representingthe mythological story of the fall of Photon, who, according to theGreeks, lost his life in rashly attempting to drive the chariot of hisfather the God of the Sun. Here we saw Queen Mary's bed, which must havelooked superb in its hangings of crimson damask, trimmed with green silkfringes and tassels, when these were new, but now in their decay theyseemed to remind us of their former magnificence and of theirunfortunate owner, to whom the oft-quoted words

 Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown

so aptly applied. We wondered how many times her weary head had passedits restless nights there, and in the many castles in which she had beenplaced during her long imprisonment of nineteen years. Half hidden bythe tapestry there was a small door opening upon a secret stair, and itwas by this that Darnley and his infamous associates ascended when theywent to murder the Queen's unfortunate Italian secretary, Rizzio, in theQueen's supping-room, which we now visited. There we had to listen tothe recital of this horrible crime: how the Queen had been forciblyrestrained by Darnley, her table overthrown and the viands scattered, while the blood-thirsty conspirators crowded into the room; how Rizziorushed behind the Queen for protection, until one of the assassinssnatched Darnley's dagger from its sheath, and stabbed Rizzio, leavingthe dagger sticking in his body, while the others dragged him furiouslyfrom the room, stabbing him as he went, shrieking for mercy, until hefell dead at the head of the staircase, pierced by fifty-six wounds;and how one of the assassins threatened to cut the Queen "into collops"if she dared to speak to the populace through the window. The bloodstainon the floor was of course shown us, which the mockers assert is duly"restored" every winter before the visiting season commences. 

Leaving the Palace, we saw Queen Mary's Bath, a quaintly shaped littlebuilding built for her by King James IV, in which she was said to havebathed herself in white wine--an operation said to have been the secretof her beauty. During some alterations which were made to it in 1798, arichly inlaid but wasted dagger was found stuck in the sarking of theroof, supposedly by the murderers of Rizzio on their escape from thepalace. 

[Illustration: CHAPEL ROYAL, HOLYROOD. ]

We then visited the now roofless ruins of the Abbey or Chapel Royaladjoining the Palace. A fine doorway on which some good carving stillremained recalled something of its former beauty and grandeur. Therewere quite a number of tombs, and what surprised us most was the largesize of the gravestones, which stood 6 to 7 feet high, and were about 3feet wide. Those we had been accustomed to in England were much smaller, but everything in Scotland seemed big, including the people themselves, and this was no less true of the buildings in Edinburgh. There was amonument in one corner of the Chapel Royal on which was an inscriptionin Latin, of which we read the English translation to be:--

 HERE IS BURIED A WORTHY MAN AND AN INGENIOUS MASON, ALEXANDER MILNE, 20 Feb. A. D. 1643

 Stay Passenger, here famous Milne doth rest, Worthy to be in Ægypt's Marble drest; What Myron or Apelles could have done In brass or paintry, he could do in stone; But thretty yeares hee [blameless] lived; old age He did betray, and in's Prime left this stage. 

 Restored by Robert Mylne

 Architect. MDCCLXXVI. 

The builder of the Palace was Robert Milne, the descendant of a familyof distinguished masons. He was the "master mason, " and a record of himin large letters on a pillar ran--

 FVN . BE . RO . MILNE . M. M. . I . JYL . 1671. 

After leaving Holyrood we walked up Calton Hill, where we had a splendidview of the fine old city of Edinburgh seated on rocks that are olderthan history, and surrounded by hills with the gleaming Firth of Forthin the distance. The panorama as seen from this point was magnificent, and one of the finest in Great Britain. On the hill there were goodroads and walks and some monuments. One of these, erected to the memoryof Nelson, was very ugly, and another--beautiful in itsincompleteness--consisted of a number of immense fluted columns inimitation of the Parthenon of Athens, which we were told was a memorialto the Scottish heroes who fell in the Wars of Napoleon, but which wasnot completed, as sufficient funds had not been forthcoming to finishwhat had evidently been intended to be an extensive and costly erection. We supposed that these lofty pillars remained as a warning to those whobegin to build without first sitting down and counting the cost. Theywere beautifully proportioned, resembling a fragment of some great ruin, and probably had as fine an effect as they stood, as the finishedstructure would have had. 

[Illustration: "MONS MEG. "]

Edinburgh Castle stood out in the distance on an imposing rock. As wedid not arrive during visiting hours we missed many objects of interest, including the Scottish crown and regalia, which are stored therein. Onthe ramparts of the castle we saw an ancient gun named "Mons Meg, " whosehistory was both long and interesting. It had been made by hand withlong bars of hammered iron held together by coils of iron hoops, and hada bore of 20 in. ; the cannon-balls resting alongside it were made ofwood. It was constructed in 1455 by native artisans at the instance ofJames II, and was used in the siege of Dumbarton in 1489 and in theCivil Wars. In Cromwell's list of captured guns in 1650 it was describedas "the great iron murderer Meg. " When fired on the occasion of theDuke of York's visit to Edinburgh in 1682 the gun burst. After this badbehaviour "Meg" was sent to the Tower of London, not, however, to beexecuted, but to remain there until the year 1829, when, owing to theintercession of Sir Walter Scott with King George IV, the great gun wasreturned to Edinburgh, and was received with great rejoicings and drawnup with great ceremony to the castle, where it still remains as a relicof the past. 

On our way we had observed a placard announcing a soirée in connectionwith the I. O. G. T. (the Independent Order of Good Templars), and thisbeing somewhat of a novelty to us we decided to patronise it. Accordingly at 7 p. M. We found ourselves paying the sum of ninepenceeach at the entrance to the Calton Rooms. As we filed through along withothers, a cup and saucer and a paper bag containing a variety of cakeswere handed to us, and the positions assigned to us were on either sideof an elderly gentleman whom we afterwards found to be a schoolmaster. 

When the tea came round there were no nice young ladies to ask us if wetook sugar and milk, and how many pieces of sugar; to our greatamusement the tea was poured into our cups from large tin kettlescarried by men who from their solemn countenances appeared fittingrepresentatives of "Caledonia stern and wild. " We thought this method agood one from the labour-saving point of view, and it was certainly onewe had never seen adopted before. The weak point about it was that itleft no opportunity for individual taste in the matter of milk andsugar, which had already been added, but as we did not hear anycomplaints and all appeared satisfied, we concluded that the happymedium had been reached, and that all had enjoyed themselves as we didourselves. 

Our friend the schoolmaster was very communicative, and added to ourpleasure considerably by his intelligent conversation, in the course ofwhich he told us that the I. O. G. T. Was a temperance organisationintroduced from America, and he thought it was engaged in a good work. The members wore a very smart regalia, much finer than would have suitedus under the climatic conditions we had to pass through. After tea theygave us an entertainment consisting of recitations and songs, the wholeof which were very creditably rendered. But the great event of theevening was the very able address delivered by the Rev. Professor Kirk, who explained the objects of the Good Templar movement and the good workit was doing in Edinburgh and elsewhere. Every one listened attentively, for the Professor was a good speaker and he was frequently applauded byhis audience. 

We had spent a very pleasant evening, and the schoolmaster accompaniedus nearly all the way to our lodgings, which we reached at 11 p. M. 

(_Distance walked up to 2 p. M. Twenty-four miles_. )

_Sunday, October 8th. _

To judge by what we heard and saw, there were connected with Edinburghthree great characters who stand out above all others in historicimportance--Mary Queen of Scots, John Knox, and Sir Walter Scott; but wethought and read more about John Knox this day than either of theothers, possibly because it was Sunday. We attended service in threedifferent churches, and give the following particulars for theinformation of our clerical and other friends who "search theScriptures, " in the hope that they may find in the reading of the textsfood for thought. 

[Illustration: EDINBURGH FROM THE CASTLE]

In the morning we went to the High Church. Preacher, the Rev. C. Giffin, M. A. Text. 2 Corinthians viii. 13 and to the end. 

In the afternoon to the Tron Church. Preacher, the Rev. James McGregor, D. D. Text: Isaiah lvii. , the last three verses, and Ephesians ii. Andthe first clause of verse 14. 

In the evening to the Wesleyan Chapel, Nicolson Square. Preacher, theRev. Dr. James, President of the Wesleyan Conference. Text: ICorinthians ii. 1, 2. 

The excellence of the sermons, and the able way in which they had beenprepared and were delivered, gave us the impression that rivalry existedbetween the ministers of the different churches as to which of themcould preach the best sermon. They were all fine orations, carefullythought out and elaborated, especially that by Dr. James. 

During the intervals between the services we walked about the city, andagain passed the splendid monument to Sir Walter Scott with thefollowing remarkable inscription, written by Lord Jeffery, beneath itsfoundation stone:

 _This Graven Plate, deposited in the base of a votive building on the fifteenth day of August in the year of Christ 1840, and never likely to see the light again till all the surrounding structures are crumbled to dust by the decay of time, or by human or elemental violence, may then testify to a distant posterity that his countrymen began on that day to raise an effigy and architectural monument to the memory of Sir Walter Scott, Bart. , whose admirable writings were then allowed to have given more delight and suggested better feelings to a large class of readers in every rank of society than those of any other author, with the exception of Shakespeare alone, and which were, therefore, thought likely to be remembered long after this act of gratitude on the part of the first generation of his admirers should be forgotten. He was born at Edinburgh 15th August 1771: and died at Abbotsford, 21st September 1832. _

We also passed that ancient and picturesque mansion in the High Streetknown as the "House of John Knox, " in which the distinguished reformerdied in 1572. Born in the year 1505, it was he who, in the reign of MaryQueen of Scots, stirred Scotland to mighty religious impulses, boldlydenouncing Mary as a Papist and a Jezebel. How he escaped being beheadedor burned or assassinated was, considering the nature of the times inwhich he lived, a mystery almost amounting to a miracle. 

[Illustration: MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS]

Queen Mary sailed from France and landed at Leith, near Edinburgh, onAugust 19th, 1561, where she was welcomed by the Scots as Dowager ofFrance, Queen of Scotland, and heiress of England, and was "gorgeouslieand magnificentlie" received, according to Scottish ideas, by the lordsand ladies who came to meet and accompany her to Edinburgh; but, according to the diary of one of the Queen's ladies, "when they saw themmounted on such wretched little hackneys so wretchedly caparisoned theywere greatly disappointed, and thought of the gorgeous pomp and superbpalfreys they had been accustomed to in France, and the Queen began toweep. " On their arrival at Edinburgh they retired to rest in the Abbey, "a fine building and not at all partaking of that country, but here cameunder her window a crew of five or six hundred scoundrels from the city, who gave her a serenade with wretched violins and little rebecks ofwhich there are enough in that country, and began to sing Psalms somiserably mis-tuned and mis-timed that nothing could be worse. Alas!what music, and what a night's rest!" What the lady would have writtenif bagpipes had been included in the serenade we could not imagine, butas these instruments of torture were not named, we concluded they musthave been invented at a later period. 

[Illustration: JOHN KNOX'S HOUSE, EDINBURGH. "We also passed the ancientand picturesque mansion in the High Street . . . In which thatdistinguished reformer died. "]

Mary had been away in France for about thirteen years, and during thattime she had for her companions four young ladies of the same name asher own and of about the same age, Mary Fleming, Mary Bethune, MaryLivingstone, and Mary Seaton, all of whom formed part of her retinue onher return to Scotland, where they were known as the "Queen's Marys. "

[Illustration: GROTESQUE HEADS ON TRINITY COLLEGE CHURCH. ]

She was a staunch adherent of the Romish Church, a fact which accountedfor many of her trials and mortifications. Mainly owing to the powerfulpreaching of John Knox, many of the people of Scotland, both of high andlow degree, had become fierce opponents of that form of religion, whichthey considered idolatrous. The first Sunday after her arrival was St. Bartholomew's Day, August 24th, and preparations had been made tocelebrate mass in the Chapel Royal, at which the Queen was to bepresent. But no sooner was this known, than a mob rushed towards theedifice, exclaiming: "Shall the idol be again erected in the land?" andshouting, "The idolatrous priests shall die the death!" On September 2ndthe Queen made her public entry into Edinburgh, and on the same day JohnKnox had an audience with Mary, who, hearing of a furious sermon he hadpreached against the Mass on the previous Sunday in St. Giles's Church, thought that a personal interview would mitigate his sternness. TheQueen took him to task for his book entitled _The First Blast of theTrumpet against the Monstrous Regimen of Women_, and his intolerancetowards every one who differed from him in opinion, and furtherrequested him to obey the precepts of the Scriptures, a copy of whichshe perceived in his possession, and urged him to use more meekness inhis sermons. Knox in reply, it was said, "knocked so hastily upon herheart, " that he made her weep with tears of anguish and indignation, andshe said, "My subjects, it would appear, must obey you, and not me; Imust be subject to them, and not they to me!" Knox left Holyrood thatday convinced that Mary's soul was lost for ever, and that she despisedand mocked all exhortation against the Mass. 

When Mary attended her first Parliament, accompanied by her ladies, theDuke of Chatelherault carrying the Crown, the Earl of Argyll theSceptre, and the Earl of Moray the Sword, she appeared so graceful andbeautiful that the people who saw her were quite captivated, and manyexclaimed, "God save that sweet face!"

During this short Parliament Knox preached in St. Giles's Church, andargued that they ought to demand from the Queen "that which by God'sWord they may justly require, and if she would not agree with them inGod, they were not bound to agree with her in the devil!" and concludedwith some observations respecting the Queen's rumoured marriage withDon Carlos of Spain, declaring, "Whenever ye consent that an infidel, and all Papists are infidels, shall be our head to our soverane, ye doso far as in ye lieth to banisch Christ Jesus from his realme; ye bringGod's vengeance upon this country, a plague upon yourselves, andperchance ye shall do no small discomfirt to your soverane. "

[Illustration: JOHN KNOX. ]

Mary heard of this furious attack upon her, which Knox admitted hadoffended both Papists and Protestants, and he was again summoned toHolyrood. As soon as Mary saw Knox she was greatly excited, andexclaimed: "Never was prince handled as I am. " "I have borne with you, "she said to Knox, "in all your vigorous manner of speaking, both againstmyself and my uncles; yea, I have sought your favour by all possiblemeans--I offered unto you presence and audience whenever it pleased youto admonish me, and yet I cannot be quit of you. I vow to God I shall beonce avenged. "

Knox answered, "True it is, Madam, your Grace and I have been at diverscontroversies into the which I never perceived your Grace to be offendedat me; but when it shall please God to deliver you from that bondage ofdarkness and error in the which ye have been nourished for the lack oftrue doctrine, your majesty will find the liberty of my tongue nothingoffensive. Without the preaching-place, Madam, I am not master ofmyself, for I must obey Him who commands me to speak plain, and flatterno flesh upon the face of the earth. "

The Queen asked him again, "What have ye to do with my marriage, or whatare ye in this commonwealth?" "A subject born within the same, Madam, "was the stern reply; "and albeit I be neither Earl, Lord, nor Baronwithin it, yet has God made me, how abject soever I may be in your eyes, a profitable member within the same. "

He was entering into some personal explanations, when the Queen orderedhim to leave the Cabinet, and remain in the ante-chamber till herpleasure should be intimated. Here Knox found himself in the company ofthe Queen's Marys and other ladies, to whom he gave a religiousadmonition. "Oh, fair ladies, " he said, "how pleasing is this life ofyours if it would ever abide, and then in the end that you pass toHeaven with all this gay gear! But fie upon the knave Death, that willcome whether we will or not, and when he has laid on his arrest, thefoul worms will be busy with this flesh, be it never so fair and tender;and the silly soul, I fear, shall be so feeble, that it can neithercarry with it gold, garnishing, targetting, pearl nor precious stones. "

Several noblemen had accompanied Knox when he went to see the Queen, butonly Erskine of Dun was admitted to the Cabinet, and Lord Ochiltreeattended Knox in the ante-room while Queen Mary held a consultation withLord John Stuart and Erskine lasting nearly an hour, at the end of whichErskine appeared and accompanied Knox home. Knox must have been in greatdanger of losing his life owing to his fearless and determined daring inrebuking those in high places, and indeed his life was afterwardsrepeatedly aimed at; but Providence foiled all attempts to assassinatehim, and in the end he died a peaceful death. On November 9th, 1572, afortnight before he died, he preached his farewell sermon, the entirecongregation following his tottering footsteps to his home. When thetime came for him to die he asked for I Corinthians xv. , and after thathad been read he remarked: "Is not that a comfortable chapter?" Therewas also read to him Isaiah liii. Asked if he could hear, he replied: "Ihear, I thank God, and understand far better. " He afterwards said to hiswife, "Read, where I cast my first anchor. " Mrs. Knox knew what hemeant, and read to him his favourite seventeenth chapter of St. John'sGospel. His friend Bannatyne, seeing that he was just about to depart, and was becoming speechless, drew near to him saying, "Hast thou hope?"and asked him if he heard to give them a sign that he died in peace. Knox pointed upwards with two of his fingers, and thus he died without astruggle. Truly one of the most remarkable men that ever lived inScotland, and whose end was peace. 

[Illustration: OLD TOWN FROM CALTON HILL. ]

A vast concourse of people attended his funeral, the nobility walking infront of the procession, headed by Morton, who had been appointed Regentof Scotland on the very day on which Knox died, and whose panegyric atthe grave was: "Here lieth a man who in his life never feared the faceof man. "

St. Giles's was the first parochial church in Edinburgh, and its historydates from the early part of the twelfth century. John Knox wasappointed its minister at the Reformation. When Edinburgh was created abishopric, the Church of St. Giles became the Cathedral of the diocese. A remarkable incident happened at this church on Sunday, July 23rd, 1639, when King Charles I ordered the English service-book to be used. It was the custom of the people in those days to bring their own seatsto church, in the shape of folding-stools, and just as Dean Hanney wasabout to read the collect for the day, a woman in the congregation namedJenny Geddes, who must have had a strong objection to this innovation, astonished the dean by suddenly throwing her stool at his head. WhatJenny's punishment was for this violent offence we did not hear, but herstool was still preserved together with John Knox's pulpit and otherrelics. 

[Illustration: ST. GILES'S CATHEDRAL, EDINBURGH. ]

Although three hundred years save one had elapsed since John Knoxdeparted this life, his memory was still greatly revered in Edinburgh, and his spirit still seemed to pervade the whole place and to dwell inthe hearts and minds of the people with whom we came in contact. A goodillustration of this was the story related by an American visitor. Hewas being driven round the city, when the coachman pointed out theresidence of John Knox. "And who was John Knox?" he asked. The coachmanseemed quite shocked that he did not know John Knox, and, looking downon him with an eye of pity, replied, in a tone of great solemnity, "Deed, mawn, an' d'ye no read y'r Beeble!"

As we walked about the crowded streets of Edinburgh that Sunday eveningwe did not see a single drunken person, a fact which we attributed tothe closing of public houses in Scotland on Sundays. We wished that asimilar enactment might be passed in England, for there many peoplemight habitually be seen much the worse for liquor on Sunday evenings, to the great annoyance of those returning from their various places ofworship. 

FOURTH WEEK'S JOURNEY

_Monday, October 9th_

There were some streets in Edinburgh called wynds, and it was in one ofthese, the College Wynd, that Sir Walter Scott was born in the year1771. It seemed a strange coincidence that the great Dr. Samuel Johnsonshould have visited the city in the same year, and have been conductedby Boswell and Principal Robertson to inspect the college along thatsame wynd when the future Sir Walter Scott was only about two years old. We had not yet ventured to explore one of these ancient wynds, as theyappeared to us like private passages between two rows of tall houses. Aswe could not see the other end, we looked upon them as traps for theunwary, but we mustered up our courage and decided to explore one ofthem before leaving the town. We therefore rose early and selected oneof an antiquated appearance, but we must confess to a feeling of someapprehension in entering it, as the houses on each side were of six toeight storeys high, and so lofty that they appeared almost to touch eachother at the top. To make matters worse for us, there were a number ofpoles projecting from the windows high above our track, for use onwashing days, when clothes were hung upon them to dry. We had not gonevery far, when my brother drew my attention to two women whose headsappeared through opposite windows in the upper storeys, and who weretalking to each other across the wynd. On our approach we heard one ofthem call to the other in a mischievous tone of voice, "See! there's twamair comin'!" We were rather nervous already, so we beat an ignominiousretreat, not knowing what might be coming on our devoted heads if weproceeded farther. In the event of hostilities the two ladies were sohigh up in the buildings, which were probably let in flats, that weshould never have been able to find them, and, like the stray sheep inthe Pass of St. Ninians, we might never have been found ourselves. Wewere probably taken for a pair of sporting young medical studentsinstead of grave searchers after wisdom and truth. We therefore returnedto our hotel for the early breakfast that was waiting for us, and leftEdinburgh at 8. 10 a. M. On our way towards Peebles. 

[Illustration: QUEEN MARY'S BATH. ]

[Illustration: CRAIGMILLAR CASTLE. ]

We journeyed along an upward gradient with a view of Craigmillar Castleto our left, obtaining on our way a magnificent view of the fine city wehad left behind us, with its castle, and the more lofty elevation knownas Arthur's Seat, from which portions of twelve counties might be seen. It was a curiously shaped hill with ribs and bones crossing in variousdirections, which geologists tell us are undoubted remains of an oldvolcano. It certainly was a very active one, if one can judge by thequantity of debris it threw out. There was an old saying, especiallyinteresting to ladies, that if you washed your face at sunrise on May1st, with dew collected off the top of Arthur's Seat, you would bebeautiful for ever. We were either too late or too soon, as it was nowOctober 9th, and as we had a lot to see on that day, with not overmuchtime to see it in, we left the dew to the ladies, feeling certain, however, that they would be more likely to find it there in October thanon May Day. When we had walked about five miles, we turned off the mainroad to visit the pretty village of Rosslyn, or Roslin, with its threegreat attractions: the chapel, the castle, and the dell. We found itsurrounded by woods and watered by a very pretty reach of the River Esk, and as full of history as almost any place in Scotland. 

The unique chapel was the great object of interest. The guide informedus that it was founded in 1446 by William St. Clair, who also built thecastle, in which he resided in princely splendour. He must have been aperson of very great importance, for he had titles enough even to wearya Spaniard, being Prince of Orkney, Duke of Oldenburg, Earl of Caithnessand Stratherne, Lord St. Clair, Lord Liddlesdale, Lord Admiral of theScottish Seas, Lord Chief Justice of Scotland, Lord Warden of the threeMarches, Baron of Roslin, Knight of the Cockle, and High Chancellor, Chamberlain, and Lieutenant of Scotland!

The lords of Rosslyn were buried in their complete armour beneath thechapel floor up to the year 1650, but afterwards in coffins. Sir WalterScott refers to them in his "Lay of the Last Minstrel" thus:--

 There are twenty of Rosslyn's Barons bold Lie buried within that proud Chapelle. 

[Illustration: ROSSLYN CHAPEL--THE "MASTER AND 'PRENTICE PILLARS"]

[Illustration: THE "'PRENTICE PILLAR. "]

There were more carvings in Rosslyn Chapel than in any place of equalsize that we saw in all our wanderings, finely executed, and with everysmall detail beautifully finished and exquisitely carved. Foliage, flowers, and ferns abounded, and religious allegories, such as the SevenActs of Mercy, the Seven Deadly Sins, the Dance of Death, and manyscenes from the Scriptures; it was thought that the original idea hadbeen to represent a Bible in stone. The great object of interest was themagnificently carved pillar known as the "'Prentice Pillar, " and in thechapel were two carved heads, each of them showing a deep scar on theright temple. To these, as well as the pillar, a melancholy memory wasattached, from which it appeared that the master mason received ordersthat this pillar should be of exquisite workmanship and design. Fearinghis inability to carry out his instructions, he went abroad to Rome tosee what designs he could find for its execution. While he was away hisapprentice had a dream in which he saw a most beautiful column, and, setting to work at once to carry out the design of his dream, finishedthe pillar, a perfect marvel of workmanship. When his master returnedand found the pillar completed, he was so envious and enraged at thesuccess of his apprentice that he struck him on the head with his malletwith such force that he killed him on the spot, a crime for which he wasafterwards executed. 

We passed on to the castle across a very narrow bridge over a ravine, but we did not find much there except a modern-looking house built withsome of the old stones, under which were four dungeons. Rosslyn wasassociated with scenes rendered famous by Bruce and Wallace, Queen Maryand Rizzio, Robert III and Queen Annabella Drummond, by Comyn andFraser, and by the St. Clairs, as well as by legendary stories of theLaird of Gilmorton Grange, who set fire to the house in which were hisbeautiful daughter and her lover, the guilty abbot, so that both of themwere burnt to death, and of the Lady of Woodhouselee, a white-robed, restless spectre, who appeared with her infant in her arms. Then therewas the triple battle between the Scots and the English, in which theScots were victorious:

 Three triumphs in a day! Three hosts subdued by one! Three armies scattered like the spray, Beneath one vernal sun. 

[Illustration: ROSSLYN CASTLE. ]

Here, too, was the inn, now the caretaker's house, visited by Dr. Johnson and Boswell in 1773, the poet Wordsworth and his sister Dorothyin 1803, while some of the many other celebrities who called from timeto time had left their signatures on the window-panes. Burns and hisfriend Nasmyth the artist breakfasted there on one occasion, and Burnswas so pleased with the catering that he rewarded the landlady byscratching on a pewter plate the two following verses:

 My blessings on you, sonsie wife, I ne'er was here before; You've gien us walth for horn and knife-- Nae heart could wish for more. 

 Heaven keep you free from care and strife. Till far ayont four score; And while I toddle on through life, I'll ne'er gang bye your door. 

Rosslyn at one time was a quiet place and only thought of in Edinburghwhen an explosion was heard at the Rosslyn gunpowder works. But manymore visitors appeared after Sir Walter Scott raised it to eminence byhis famous "Lay" and his ballad of "Rosabelle":

 Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud. Where Rosslyn's chiefs uncoffin'd lie. 

Hawthornden was quite near where stood Ben Jonson's sycamore, andDrummond's Halls, and Cyprus Grove, but we had no time to see the caveswhere Sir Alexander Ramsay had such hairbreadth escapes. About the endof the year 1618 Ben Jonson, then Poet Laureate of England, walked fromLondon to Edinburgh to visit his friend Taylor, the Thames waterman, commonly known as the Water Poet, who at that time was at Leith. In theJanuary following he called to see the poet Drummond of Hawthornden, whowas more frequently called by the name of the place where he lived thanby his own. He found him sitting in front of his house, and as heapproached Drummond welcomed him with the poetical salutation:

 "Welcome! welcome! Royal Ben, "

to which Jonson responded, "Thank ye, thank ye, Hawthornden. "

[Illustration: HAWTHORNDEN. ]

The poet Drummond was born in 1585, and died in 1649, his end beinghastened by grief at the execution of Charles I. A relative erected amonument to his memory in 1784, to which the poet Young added thefollowing lines:

 O sacred solitude, divine retreat, Choice of the prudent, envy of the great! By the pure stream, or in the waving shade I court fair Wisdom, that celestial maid; Here from the ways of men, laid safe ashore, I smile to hear the distant tempest roar; Here, blest with health, with business unperplex'd, This life I relish, and secure the next. 

Rosslyn Glen was a lovely place, almost like a fairy scene, and wewondered if Burns had it in his mind when he wrote:

 Their groves of sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon, Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume; Far dearer to me yon lone glen of green bracken, Wi' the burn stealing under the long yellow broom. 

[Illustration: PENNICUICK HOUSE COURT]

We walked very quietly and quickly past the gunpowder works, lestconversation might cause an explosion that would put an end to ourwalking expedition and ourselves at the same time, and regained thehighway at a point about seven miles from Edinburgh. Presently we cameto the Glencorse Barracks, some portions of which adjoined our road, and, judging from the dress and speech of the solitary sentinel who waspacing to and fro in front of the entrance, we concluded that a regimentof Highlanders must be stationed there. He informed us that in the timeof the French Wars some of the prisoners were employed in making Scotchbanknotes at a mill close by, and that portions of the barracks werestill used for prisoners, deserters, and the like. Passing on toPennicuick, we crossed a stream that flowed from the direction of thePentland Hills, and were informed that no less than seven paper millswere worked by that stream within a distance of five miles. Here we sawa monument which commemorated the interment of 309 French prisoners whodied during the years 1811 to 1814, a list of their names being still inexistence. This apparently large death-rate could not have been due tothe unhealthiness of the Glencorse Barracks, where they were confined, for it was by repute one of the healthiest in the kingdom, the roadbeing 600 feet or more above sea-level, and the district generally, including Pennicuick, considered a desirable health-resort for personssuffering from pulmonary complaints. We stayed a short time here forrefreshments, and outside the town we came in contact with two young menwho were travelling a mile or two on our way, with whom we joinedcompany. We were giving them an outline of our journey and they wererelating to us their version of the massacre of Glencoe, when suddenly apretty little squirrel crossed our path and ran into a wood opposite. This caused the massacre story to be ended abruptly and roused thebloodthirsty instinct of the two Scots, who at once began to throwstones at it with murderous intent. We watched the battle as thesquirrel jumped from branch to branch and passed from one tree toanother until it reached one of rather large dimensions. At this stageour friends' ammunition, which they had gathered hastily from the road, became exhausted, and we saw the squirrel looking at them from behindthe trunk of the tree as they went to gather another supply. Before theywere again ready for action the squirrel disappeared. We were pleasedthat it escaped, for our companions were good shots. They explained tous that squirrels were difficult animals to kill with a stone, unlessthey were hit under the throat. Stone-throwing was quite a commonpractice for country boys in Scotland, and many of them became so expertthat they could hit small objects at a considerable distance. We werefairly good hands at it ourselves. It was rather a cruel sport, butloose stones were always plentiful on the roads--for the surfaces werenot rolled, as in later years--and small animals, such as dogs and catsand all kinds of birds, were tempting targets. Dogs were the greatestsufferers, as they were more aggressive on the roads, and as my brotherhad once been bitten by one it was woe to the dog that came within hisreach. Such was the accuracy acquired in the art of stone-throwing atthese animals, that even stooping down in the road and pretending tolift a stone often caused the most savage dog to retreat quickly. Weparted from the two Scots without asking them to finish their story ofGlencoe, as the details were already fixed in our memories. They told usour road skirted a moor which extended for forty-seven miles or nearlyas far as Glasgow, but we did not see much of the moor as we travelledin a different direction. 

[Illustration: "JOUGS" AT A CHURCH, PEEBLESSHIRE. ]

We passed through Edleston, where the church was dedicated to St. Mungo, reminding us of Mungo Park, the famous African traveller, and, strangelyenough, it appeared we were not far away from where he was born. In thechurchyard here was a tombstone to the memory of four ministers namedRobertson, who followed each other in a direct line extending to 160years. There was also to be seen the ancient "Jougs, " or iron rings inwhich the necks of criminals were enclosed and fastened to a wall orpost or tree. About three miles before reaching Peebles we came to theMansion of Cringletie, the residence of the Wolfe-Murray family. Thename of Wolfe had been adopted because one of the Murrays greatlydistinguished himself at the Battle of Quebec, and on the lawn in frontof the house was a cannon on which the following words had beenengraved:

 _His Majesty's Ship Royal George of 108 guns, sunk at Spithead 29th August 1782. This gun, a 32 pounder, part of the armament of the Royal George, was fished up from the wreck of that ship by Mr. Deans, the zealous and enterprising Diver, on the 15th November 1836, and was presented by the Master-General and Board of Ordnance to General Durham of Largo, the elder Brother of Sir Philip Charles Henderson Durham, Knight Grand Cross of the Most Honourable Military Order of the Bath, Knight Commander of the Most Ancient Military Order of Merit of France, Admiral of the White Squadron of Her Majesty's Fleet, and Commander-in-Chief of the Port of Portsmouth, 1836. _

Sir Philip was serving as a lieutenant in the _Royal George_, and wasactually on duty as officer of the watch upon deck when the awfulcatastrophe took place. He was providentially and miraculously saved, but nearly 900 persons perished, amongst them the brave AdmiralKempenfelt, whose flag went down with the ship. 

The wreck of the _Royal George_ was the most awful disaster that hadhitherto happened to the Royal Navy. William Cowper the poet, as soon asthe sad news was brought to him, wrote a solemn poem entitled "The Lossof the _Royal George_, " from which it seems that Admiral Kempenfelt wasin his cabin when the great ship suddenly foundered. 

 His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men. 

 * * * * *

 Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone: His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done. 

 * * * * *

 Toll for the brave! The brave that are no more. All sunk beneath the wave. Fast by their native shore!

It was nearly dark when we entered the town of Peebles, where we calledat the post office for letters, and experienced some difficulty at firstin obtaining lodgings, seeing that it was the night before the HiringFair. We went first to the Temperance Hotel, but all the beds had beentaken down to make room for the great company they expected on themorrow; eventually we found good accommodation at the "Cross Keys Inn, "formerly the residence of a country laird. 

We had seen notices posted about the town informing the public that, byorder of the Magistrates, who saw the evil of intoxicating drinks, refreshments were to be provided the following day at the Town Hall. TheGood Templars had also issued a notice that they were having atea-party, for which of course we could not stay. 

We found Peebles a most interesting place, and the neighbourhoodimmediately surrounding it was full of history. The site on which ourhotel had been built was that of the hostelage belonging to the Abbey ofArbroath in 1317, the monks granting the hostelage to William Maceon, aburgess of Peebles, on condition that he would give to them, and theirattorneys, honest lodging whenever business brought them to that town. He was to let them have the use of the hall, with tables and trestles, also the use of the spence (pantry) and buttery, sleeping chambers, adecent kitchen, and stables, and to provide them with the best candlesof Paris, with rushes for the floor and salt for the table. In latertimes it was the town house of Williamson of Cardrona, and in theeighteenth and nineteenth centuries became one of the principal inns, especially for those who, like ourselves, were travelling from thenorth, and was conducted by a family named Ritchie. Sir Walter Scott, who at that time resided quite near, frequented the house, which in hisday was called the "Yett, " and we were shown the room he sat in. MissRitchie, the landlady in Scott's day, who died in 1841, was theprototype of "Meg Dobs, " the inn being the "Cleikum Inn" of his novel_St. Ronan's Well_. 

[Illustration: THE CHURCH AND MONASTERY OF THE HOLY CROSS, PEEBLES, AD1261. ]

There was a St. Mungo's Well in Peebles, and Mungo Park was intimatelyassociated with the town. He was born at Foulshiels, Yarrow, in the sameyear as Sir Walter Scott, 1771, just one hundred years before our visit, and, after studying for the Church, adopted medicine as his profession. He served a short time with a doctor at Selkirk, before completing hiscourse at the University of Edinburgh, and sailed in 1792 for the EastIndies in the service of the East India Company. Later he joined anassociation for the promotion of discovery in Africa, and in 1795 heexplored the basin of the Niger. In 1798 he was in London, and in 1801began practice as a doctor in Peebles. He told Sir Walter Scott, afterpassing through one of the severe winters in Peebleshire, that he wouldrather return to the wilds of Africa than pass another winter there. Hereturned to London in December 1803 to sail with another expedition, butits departure was delayed for a short time, so he again visited Peebles, and astonished the people there by bringing with him a black man named"Sidi Omback Boubi, " who was to be his tutor in Arabic. Meantime, in1779, he had published a book entitled _Travels in the Interior ofAfrica_, which caused a profound sensation at the time on account of thewonderful stories it contained of adventures in what was then an unknownpart of the world. This book of "Adventures of Mungo Park" was highlypopular and extensively read throughout the country, by ourselvesamongst the rest. 

[Illustration: THE BLACK DWARF. ]

It was not until January 29th, 1805, that the expedition left Spithead, and before Mungo Park left Peebles he rode over to Clovenfords, whereSir Walter Scott was then residing, to stay a night with him atAshestiel. On the following morning Sir Walter accompanied him a shortdistance on the return journey, and when they were parting where a smallditch divided the moor from the road Park's horse stumbled a little. SirWalter said, "I am afraid, Mungo, that is a bad omen, " to which Parkreplied, smiling, "Friets (omens) follow those that look for them, " andso they parted for ever. In company with his friends Anderson and Scotthe explored the rivers Gambia and Niger, but his friends died, and Dr. Park himself was murdered by hostile natives who attacked his canoe inthe River Niger. 

Quite near our lodgings was the house where this famous Africantraveller lived and practised blood-letting as a surgeon, and wheredreams of the tent in which he was once a prisoner and of dark facescame to him at night, while the door at which his horse was tethered ashe went to see Sir Walter Scott, and the window out of which he put hishead when knocked up in the night, were all shown as objects of interestto visitors. Mungo had at least one strange patient, and that was theBlack Dwarf, David Ritchie, who lies buried close to the gate in the oldchurchyard. This was a horrid-looking creature, who paraded the countryas a privileged beggar. He affected to be a judge of female beauty, andthere was a hole in the wall of his cottage through which the fairmaidens had to look, a rose being passed through if his fantasticfancies were pleased; but if not, the tiny window was closed in theirfaces. He was known to Sir Walter Scott, who adopted his name in one ofhis novels, _The Bowed Davie of the Windus_. His cottage, which waspractically in the same state as at the period of David Ritchie's death, bore a tablet showing that it had been restored by the great Edinburghpublishers W. And R. Chambers, who were natives of Peebles, and worded:"In memory D. R. , died 1811. W. And R. Chambers, 1845. "

Dr. Pennicuick, who flourished A. D. 1652-1722, had written:

 Peebles, the Metropolis of the shire, Six times three praises doth from me require; Three streets, three ports, three bridges, it adorn, And three old steeples by three churches borne, Three mills to serve the town in time of need. On Peebles water, and on River Tweed, Their arms are _proper_, and point forth their meaning, Three salmon fishes nimbly counter swimming;

but there were other "Threes" connected with Peebles both before andafter the doctor's time: "The Three Tales of the Three Priests ofPeebles, " supposed to have been told about the year 1460 before ablazing fire at the "Virgin Inn. "

There were also the Three Hopes buried in the churchyard, whosetombstone records:

 Here lie three Hopes enclosed within, Death's prisoners by Adam's sin; Yet rest in hope that they shall be Set by the Second Adam free. 

And there were probably other triplets, but when my brother suggestedthere were also three letter e's in the name of Peebles, I reminded himthat it was closing-time, and also bed-time, so we rested that night inan old inn such as Charles Dickens would have been delighted topatronise. 

(_Distance walked twenty-five miles_. )

_Tuesday, October 10th. _

This was the day of the Great Peebles Fair, and everybody was awakeearly, including ourselves. We left the "Cross Keys" hotel at sixo'clock in the morning, and a very cold one it was, for there had been asharp frost during the night. The famous old Cross formerly stood nearour inn, and the Cross Church close at hand, or rather all that remainedof them after the wars. In spite of the somewhat modern appearance ofthe town, which was probably the result of the business elementintroduced by the establishment of the woollen factories, Peebles was inreality one of the ancient royal burghs, and formerly an ecclesiasticalcentre of considerable importance, for in the reign of Alexander IIIseveral very old relics were said to have been found, including what wassupposed to be a fragment of the true Cross, and with it the calcinedbones of St. Nicholas, who suffered in the Roman persecution, A. D. 294. On the strength of these discoveries the king ordered a magnificentchurch to be erected, which caused Peebles to be a Mecca for pilgrims, who came there from all parts to venerate the relics. The building wasknown as the Cross Church, where a monastery was founded at the desireof James III in 1473 and attached to the church, in truly Christianspirit, one-third of its revenues being devoted to the redemption ofChristian captives who remained in the hands of the Turks after theCrusades. 

[Illustration: ST. ANDREWS CHURCH, PEEBLES, A. D. 1195. ]

If we had visited the town in past ages, there would not have been anyfair on October 10th, since the Great Fair, called the Beltane Festival, was then held on May Day; but after the finding of the relics it wasmade the occasion on which to celebrate the "Finding of the Cross, "pilgrims and merchants coming from all parts to join the festivities andattend the special celebrations at the Cross Church. On the occasion ofa Beltane Fair it was the custom to light a fire on the hill, roundwhich the young people danced and feasted on cakes made of milk andeggs. We thought Beltane was the name of a Sun-god, but it appeared thatit was a Gaelic word meaning Bel, or Beal's-fire, and probablyoriginated from the Baal mentioned in Holy Writ. 

As our next great object of interest was Abbotsford, the last houseinhabited by Sir Walter Scott, our course lay alongside the River Tweed. We were fortunate in seeing the stream at Peebles, which stood at theentrance to one of the most beautiful stretches in the whole of itslength of 103 miles, 41 of which lay in Peeblesshire. The twenty milesalong which we walked was magnificent river scenery. 

[Illustration: THE SEAL OF THE CROSS CHURCH. ]

We passed many castles and towers and other ancient fortifications alongits banks, the first being at Horsburgh, where the castle looked downupon a grass field called the Chapelyards, on which formerly stood thechapel and hospice of the two saints, Leonard and Lawrence. At thishospice pilgrims from England were lodged when on their way to Peeblesto attend the feasts of the "Finding of the Cross" and the "Exaltationof the Cross, " which were celebrated at Beltane and Roodmassrespectively, in the ancient church and monastery of the Holy Cross. Itwas said that King James I of England on his visits to Peebles was alsolodged here, and it is almost certain the Beltane Sports suggested tohim his famous poem, "Peebles to the Play, " one of its lines being:

 Hope Kailzie, and Cardrona, gathered out thickfold, Singing "Hey ho, rumbelow, the young folks were full bold. "

both of which places could be seen from Horsburgh Castle looking acrossthe river. 

We saw the Tower of Cardrona, just before entering the considerablevillage, or town, of Innerleithen at six miles from Peebles, andalthough the time was so early, we met many people on their way to thefair. Just before reaching Innerleithen we came to a sharp deep bend inthe river, which we were informed was known as the "Dirt Pot" owing toits black appearance. At the bottom of this dark depth the silver bellsof Peebles were supposed to be lying. We also saw Glennormiston House, the residence of William Chambers, who, with his brother, Robert, founded _Chambers's Journal_ of wide-world fame, and authors, singly andconjointly, of many other volumes. The two brothers were bothbenefactors to their native town of Peebles, and William became LordProvost of Edinburgh, and the restorer of its ancient Cathedral of St. Giles's. His brother Robert died earlier in that very year in which wewere walking. We reached Innerleithen just as the factory operativeswere returning from breakfast to their work at the woollen factories, and they seemed quite a respectable class of people. Here we called atthe principal inn for our own breakfast, for which we were quite ready, but we did not know then that Rabbie Burns had been to Innerleithen, where, as he wrote, he had from a jug "a dribble o' drink, " or we shouldhave done ourselves the honour of calling at the same place. AtInnerleithen we came to another "Bell-tree Field, " where the bell hungon the branch of a tree to summon worshippers to church, and there werealso some mineral springs which became famous after the publication ofSir Walter Scott's novel, _St. Ronan's Well_. 

[Illustration: TRAQUAIR HOUSE. ]

Soon after leaving Innerleithen we could see Traquair House toweringabove the trees by which it was surrounded. Traquair was said to be theoldest inhabited house in Scotland. Sir Walter Scott knew it well, itbeing quite near to Ashiestiel, where he wrote "The Lay of the LastMinstrel, " "Marmion, " and "The Lady of the Lake. " It was one of theprototypes of "Tully Veolan" in his _Waverley_. There was no abode inScotland more quaint and curious than Traquair House, for it wasturreted, walled, buttressed, windowed, and loopholed, all as in thedays of old. Within were preserved many relics of the storied past andalso of royalty. Here was the bed on which Queen Mary slept in 1566;here also the oaken cradle of the infant King James VI. The library wasrich in valuable and rare books and MSS. And service books of thetwelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries in beautiful penmanshipupon fine vellum. The magnificent avenue was grass-grown, the gates hadnot been opened for many years, while the pillars of the gateway wereadorned with two huge bears standing erect and bearing the motto: "JudgeNocht. " Magnificent woods adorned the grounds, remains of theonce-famous forest of Ettrick, said to be the old classical forest ofCaledon of the days of King Arthur. 

Here was also Flora Hill, with its beautiful woods, where Hogg, theEttrick Shepherd, lays the scene of his exquisite poem "Kilmeny" in the_Queen's Wake_, where--

 Bonnie Kilmeny gae'd up the Glen, But it wisna to meet Duneira's men, etc. 

Through beautiful scenery we continued alongside the Tweed, and noticedthat even the rooks could not do without breakfast, for they were busyin a potato field. We were amused to see them fly away on our approach, some of them with potatoes in their mouths, and, like other thieves, looking quite guilty. 

Presently we came to a solitary fisherman standing knee-deep in theriver, with whom we had a short conversation. He said he was fishing forsalmon, which ascended the river from Berwick about that time of theyear and returned in May. We were rather amused at his mentioning thereturn journey, as from the frantic efforts he was making to catch thefish he was doing his best to prevent them from coming back again. Hetold us he had been fishing there since daylight that morning, and hadcaught nothing. By way of sympathy my brother told him a story of twoyoung men who walked sixteen miles over the hills to fish in a stream. They stayed that night at the nearest inn, and started out very earlythe next morning. When they got back to the hotel at night they wrotethe following verse in the visitors' book:

 Hickory dickory dock! We began at six o'clock, We fished till night without a bite. Hickory dickory dock!

This was a description, he said, of real fishermen's luck, but whetherthe absence of the "bite" referred to the fishermen or to the fish wasnot quite clear. It had been known to apply to both. 

Proceeding further we met a gentleman walking along the road, of whom wemade inquiries about the country we were passing through. He told usthat the castle we could see across the river was named "Muckle MouthedMeg. " A certain man in ancient times, having offended against the laws, was given a choice for a sentence by the King of Scotland---either hemust marry Muckle Mouthed Meg, a woman with a very large mouth, orsuffer death. He chose the first, and the pair lived together in the oldcastle for some years. We told him we were walking from John o' Groat'sto Land's End, but when he said he had passed John o' Groat's in thetrain, we had considerable doubts as to the accuracy of his statements, for there was no railway at all in the County of Caithness in which Johno' Groat's was situated. We therefore made further inquiries about theold castle, and were informed that the proper name of it was ElibankCastle, and that it once belonged to Sir Gideon Murray, who one nightcaught young Willie Scott of Oakwood Tower trying to "lift the kye. " Thelowing of the cattle roused him up, and with his retainers he drove offthe marauders, while his lady watched the fight from the battlement ofthe Tower. Willie, or, to be more correct, Sir William Scott, Junr. , wascaught and put in the dungeon. Sir Gideon Murray decided to hang him, but his lady interposed: "Would ye hang the winsome Laird o' Harden, "she said, "when ye hae three ill-favoured daughters to marry?" SirWillie was one of the handsomest men of his time, and when the menbrought the rope to hang him he was given the option of marrying MuckleMou'd Meg or of being hanged with a "hempen halter. " It was said thatwhen he first saw Meg he said he preferred to be hanged, but he foundshe improved on closer acquaintance, and so in three days' time aclergyman said, "Wilt thou take this woman here present to be thy lawfulwife?" knowing full well what the answer must be. Short of othermaterials, the marriage contract was written with a goose quill on theparchment head of a drum. Sir William found that Meg made him a verygood wife in spite of her wide mouth, and they lived happily together, the moral being, we supposed, that it is not always the prettiest girlthat makes the best wife. 

Shortly afterwards we left the River Tweed for a time while we walkedacross the hills to Galashiels, and on our way to that town we came to arailway station near which were some large vineries. A carriage wasstanding at the entrance to the gardens, where two gentlemen were buyingsome fine bunches of grapes which we could easily have disposed of, forwe were getting rather hungry, but as they did not give us the chance, we walked on. Galashiels was formerly only a village, the "shiels"meaning shelters for sheep, but it had risen to importance owing to itswoollen factories. It was now a burgh, boasting a coat-of-arms on whichwas represented a plum-tree with a fox on either side, and the motto, "Sour plums of Galashiels. " The origin of this was an incident thatoccurred in 1337, in the time of Edward III, when some Englishmen whowere retreating stopped here to eat some wild plums. While they were soengaged they were attacked by a party of Scots with swords, who killedevery one of them, throwing their bodies into a trench afterwards knownas the "Englishman's Syke. " We passed a road leading off to the left toStow, where King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table were said tohave defeated the Heathens. We left Galashiels by the Melrose Road, and, after walking about a mile and a half, we turned aside to cross theRiver Tweed, not by a ferry, as that was against our rule, but by arailway bridge. No doubt this was against the railway company's by-lawsand regulations, but it served our purpose, and we soon reachedAbbotsford, that fine mansion, once the residence of the great SirWalter Scott, the king of novelists, on the building of which he hadspent a great amount of money, and the place of his death September21st, 1832. 

[Illustration: ABBOTSFORD FROM THE RIVER. ]

Abbotsford, including the gardens, park, walks and woods, was all hisown creation, and was so named by him because the River Tweed wascrossed at that point by the monks on their way to and from MelroseAbbey in the olden times. 

[Illustration: SIR WALTER SCOTT. ]

We found the house in splendid condition and the garden just as SirWalter had left it. We were shown through the hall, study, library, anddrawing-room, and even his last suit of clothes, with his white beaverhat, was carefully preserved under a glass case. We saw much armour, thelargest suit belonging formerly to Sir John Cheney, the biggest man whofought at the battle of Bosworth Field. The collection of arms gatheredout of all ages and countries was said to be the finest in the world, including Rob Roy Macgregor's gun, sword, and dirk, the Marquis ofMontrose's sword, and the rifle of Andreas Hofer the Tyrolese patriot. 

Amongst these great curios was the small pocket-knife used by SirWalter when he was a boy. We were shown the presents given to him fromall parts of the kingdom, and from abroad, including an ebony suite offurniture presented to him by King George IV. There were many portraitsand busts of himself, and his wife and children, including a marble bustof himself by Chantrey, the great sculptor, carved in the year 1820. Theother portraits included one of Queen Elizabeth, another of Rob Roy; apainting of Queen Mary's head, after it had been cut off at Fotheringay, and a print of Stothard's _Canterbury Pilgrims_. We also saw an iron boxin which Queen Mary kept her money for the poor, and near this was hercrucifix. In fact, the place reminded us of some great museum, for therewere numberless relics of antiquity stored in every nook and corner, andin the most unlikely places. We were sorry we had not time to stay andtake a longer survey, for the mansion and its surroundings form one ofthe great sights of Scotland, whose people revere the memory of thegreat man who lived there. 

[Illustration: SIR WALTER SCOTT'S STUDY. ]

The declining days of Sir Walter were not without sickness and sorrow, for he had spent all the money obtained by the sale of his books on thispalatial mansion. After a long illness, and as a last resource, he wastaken to Italy; but while there he had another apoplectic attack, andwas brought home again, only just in time to die. He expressed a wishthat Lockhart, his son-in-law, should read to him, and when asked fromwhat book, he answered, "Need you ask? There is but one. " He chose thefourteenth chapter of St. John's Gospel, and when it was ended, he said, "Well, this is a great comfort: I have followed you distinctly, and Ifeel as if I were yet to be myself again. " In an interval ofconsciousness he said, "Lockhart! I may have but a minute to speak toyou, my dear; be a good man, be virtuous, be religious, be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie here. "

A friend who was present at the death of Sir Walter wrote: "It was abeautiful day--so warm that every window was wide open, and so perfectlystill that the sound of all others most delicious to his ear, the gentleripple of the Tweed over its pebbles, was distinctly audible--as wekneeled around his bed, and his eldest son kissed and closed his eyes. "We could imagine the wish that would echo in more than one mind as SirWalter's soul departed, perhaps through one of the open windows, "Let medie the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his. "

 So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there; It is the loneliness in death That parts not quite with parting breath, But beauty with that fearful bloom, The hue which haunts it to the tomb, Expression's last receding ray; A gilded halo hov'ring round decay. 

[Illustration: ABBOTSFORD. ]

We passed slowly through the garden and grounds, and when we reached theroad along which Sir Walter Scott had so often walked, we hurried on tosee the old abbey of Melrose, which was founded by King David I. On ourway we passed a large hydropathic establishment and an asylum not quitecompleted, and on reaching Melrose we called at one of the inns for tea, where we read a description by Sir Walter of his "flitting" fromAshiestiel, his former residence, to his grand house at Abbotsford. Theflitting took place at Whitsuntide in 1812, so, as he died in 1832, hemust have lived at Abbotsford about twenty years. He was a greatcollector of curios, and wrote a letter describing the comical scenewhich took place on that occasion. "The neighbours, " he wrote, "havebeen very much delighted with the procession of furniture, in which oldswords, bows, targets, and lances made a very conspicuous show. A familyof turkeys was accommodated within the helmet of some _preux chevalier_of ancient Border fame, and the very cows, for aught I know, werebearing banners and muskets. I assure you that this caravan, attended bya dozen ragged, rosy, peasant children carrying fishing-rods and spears, and leading ponies, greyhounds, and spaniels, would, as it crossed theTweed, have furnished no bad subject for the pencil. "

[Illustration: THE CHANCEL, MELROSE ABBEY. ]

Melrose Abbey was said to afford the finest specimen of Gothicarchitecture and Gothic sculpture of which Scotland could boast, and thestone of which it had been built, though it had resisted the weather formany ages, retained perfect sharpness, so that even the most minuteornaments seemed as entire as when they had been newly wrought. In someof the cloisters there were representations of flowers, leaves, andvegetables carved in stone with "accuracy and precision so delicate thatit almost made visitors distrust their senses when they considered thedifficulty of subjecting so hard a substance to such intricate andexquisite modulation. " This superb convent was dedicated to St. Mary, and the monks were of the Cistercian Order, of whom the poet wrote:

 Oh, the monks of Melrose made gude kail (broth) On Fridays when they fasted; Nor wanted they gude beef and ale, So lang's their neighbours' lasted. 

There were one hundred monks at Melrose in the year 1542, and it wassupposed that in earlier times much of the carving had been done bymonks under strong religious influences. The rose predominated amongstthe carved flowers, as it was the abbot's favourite flower, emblematicof the locality from which the abbey took its name. The curly green, orkale, which grew in nearly every garden in Scotland, was a verydifficult plant to sculpture, but was so delicately executed here as toresemble exactly the natural leaf; and there was a curious gargoylerepresenting a pig playing on the bagpipes, so this instrument must havebeen of far more ancient origin than we had supposed when we noticed itsabsence from the instruments recorded as having been played when MaryQueen of Scots was serenaded in Edinburgh on her arrival in Scotland. 

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO MELROSE ABBEY. ]

Under the high altar were buried the remains of Alexander II, the dustof Douglas the hero of Otterburn, and others of his illustrious andheroic race, as well as the remains of Sir Michael Scott. Here too wasburied the heart of King Robert the Bruce. It appeared that Bruce toldhis son that he wished to have his heart buried at Melrose; but when hewas ready to die and his friends were assembled round his bedside, heconfessed to them that in his passion he had killed Comyn with his ownhand, before the altar, and had intended, had he lived, to make war onthe Saracens, who held the Holy Land, for the evil deeds he had done. Herequested his dearest friend, Lord James Douglas, to carry his heart toJerusalem and bury it there. Douglas wept bitterly, but as soon as theking was dead he had his heart taken from his body, embalmed, andenclosed in a silver case which he had made for it, and wore itsuspended from his neck by a string of silk and gold. With some of thebravest men in Scotland he set out for Jerusalem, but, landing in Spain, they were persuaded to take part in a battle there against the Saracens. Douglas, seeing one of his friends being hard pressed by the enemy, wentto his assistance and became surrounded by the Moors himself. Seeing nochance of escape, he took from his neck the heart of Bruce, and speakingto it as he would have done to Bruce if alive, said, "Pass first in thefight as thou wert wont to do, and Douglas will follow thee or die. "With these words he threw the king's heart among the enemy, and rushingforward to the place where it fell, was there slain, and his body wasfound lying on the silver case. Most of the Scots were slain in thisbattle with the Moors, and they that remained alive returned toScotland, the charge of Bruce's heart being entrusted to Sir SimonLockhard of Lee, who afterwards for his device bore on his shield aman's heart with a padlock upon it, in memory of Bruce's heart which waspadlocked in the silver case. For this reason, also, Sir Simon's namewas changed from Lockhard to Lockheart, and Bruce's heart was buried inaccordance with his original desire at Melrose. 

Sir Michael Scott of Balwearie, who also lies buried in the abbey, flourished in the thirteenth century. His great learning, chieflyacquired in foreign countries, together with an identity in name, hadgiven rise to a certain confusion, among the earlier historians, betweenhim and Michael Scott the "wondrous wizard and magician" referred to byDante in Canto xxmo of the "Inferno. " Michael Scott studied suchabstruse subjects as judicial astrology, alchemy, physiognomy, andchiromancy, and his commentary on Aristotle was considered to be of sucha high order that it was printed in Venice in 1496. Sir Walter Scottreferred to Michael Scott:

 The wondrous Michael Scott A wizard, of such dreaded fame, That when in Salamanca's Cave Him listed his magic wand to wave The bells would ring in Notre Dame, and he explained the origin of this by relating the story that Michaelon one occasion when in Spain was sent as an Ambassador to the King ofFrance to obtain some concessions, but instead of going in great state, as usual on those occasions, he evoked the services of a demon in theshape of a huge black horse, forcing it to fly through the air to Paris. The king was rather offended at his coming in such an unceremoniousmanner, and was about to give him a contemptuous refusal when Scottasked him to defer his decision until his horse had stamped its footthree times. The first stamp shook every church in Paris, causing allthe bells to ring; the second threw down three of the towers of thepalace; and when the infernal steed had lifted up his hoof for the thirdtime, the king stopped him by promising Michael the most ampleconcessions. 

A modern writer, commenting upon this story, says, "There is somethinguncanny about the Celts which makes them love a Trinity of ideas, andthe old stories of the Welsh collected in the twelfth and thirteenthcenturies include a story very similar about Kilhwch, cousin to Arthur, who threatens if he cannot have what he wants that he will set up threeshouts than which none were ever heard more deadly and which will beheard from Pengwaed in Cornwall to Dinsol in the North and Ergair Oerfulin Ireland. The Triads show the method best and furnish many examples, quoting the following:

Three things are best when hung--salt fish, a wet hat, and anEnglishman. 

Three things are difficult to get--gold from the miser, love from thedevil, and courtesy from the Englishman. 

The three hardest things--a granite block, a miser's barley loaf, and anEnglishman's heart. But perhaps the best known is one translated longago from the Welsh:

 A woman, a dog, and a walnut tree, The more they are beaten, the better they be. 

But to return to Michael Scott. Another strange story about Michael washis adventure with the witch of Falschope. To avenge himself upon herfor striking him suddenly with his own wand whereby he was transformedfor a time and assumed the appearance of a hare, Michael sent his manwith two greyhounds to the house where the witch lived, to ask the oldlady to give him a bit of bread for the greyhounds; if she refused hewas to place a piece of paper, which he handed to him, over the top ofthe house door. The witch gave the man a curt refusal, and so hefastened the paper, on which were some words, including, "MichaelScott's man sought meat and gat nane, " as directed. This acted as aspell, and the old witch, who was making cakes for the reapers then atwork in the corn, now began to dance round the fire (which, as usual inthose days, was burning in the middle of the room) and to sing thewords:

 "Maister Michael Scott's man Sought meat and gat nane. "

and she had to continue thus until the spell was broken. Meantime, herhusband and the reapers who were with him were wondering why the cakeshad not reached them, so the old man sent one of the reapers to inquirethe reason. As soon as he went through the door he was caught by thespell and so had to perform the same antics as his mistress. As he didnot return, the husband sent man after man until he was alone, and thenwent himself. But, knowing all about the quarrel between Michael and hiswife, and having seen the wizard on the hill, he was rather morecautious than his men, so, instead of going through the door, he lookedthrough the window. There he saw the reapers dragging his wife, who hadbecome quite exhausted, sometimes round, and sometimes through the fire, singing the chorus as they did so. He at once saddled his horse and rodeas fast as he could to find Michael, who good-naturedly granted hisrequest, and directed him to enter his house backwards, removing thepaper from above the door with his left hand as he went in. The old manlost no time in returning home, where he found them all still dancingfuriously and singing the same rhyme; but immediately he entered, thesupernatural performance ended, very much, we imagine, to the relief ofall concerned. 

Michael Scott was at one time, it was said, much embarrassed by a spiritfor whom he had to find constant employment, and amongst other work hecommanded him to build a dam or other weir across the River Tweed atKelso. He completed that in a single night. Michael next ordered him todivide the summit of the Eildon Hill in three parts; but as thisstupendous work was also completed in one night, he was at his wits'end what work to find him to do next. At last he bethought himself of ajob that would find him constant employment. He sent him to the seashoreand employed him at the hopeless and endless task of making ropes ofsand there, which as fast as he made them were washed away by the tides. The three peaks of Eildon Hill, of nearly equal height, are still to beseen. Magnificent views are to be obtained from their tops, which SirWalter Scott often frequented and of which he wrote, "I can stand on theEildon and point out forty-three places famous in war and in verse. "

Another legend connected with these hills was that in the "Eildoncaverns vast" a cave existed where the British King Arthur and hisfamous Knights of the Round Table lie asleep waiting the blast of thebugle which will recall them from Fairyland to lead the British on to avictory that will ensure a united and glorious Empire. King Arthur has anumber of burial-places of the same character, according to localstories both in England and Wales, and even one in Cheshire at AlderleyEdge, close By the "Wizard Inn, " which title refers to the story. 

[Illustration: MELROSE ABBEY. ]

Melrose and district has been hallowed by the influence and memory ofSir Walter Scott, who was to Melrose what Shakespeare was toStratford-on-Avon, and he has invested the old abbey with an additionalhalo of interest by his "Lay of the Last Minstrel, " a copy of which wesaw for the first time at the inn where we called for tea. We weregreatly interested, as it related to the neighbourhood we were about topass through in particular, and we were quite captivated with itsopening lines, which appealed so strongly to wayfarers like ourselves:

 The way was long, the wind was cold. The Minstrel was infirm and old; His wither'd cheek, and tresses gray, Seem'd to have known a better day;

 The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the Bards was he, Who sung of Border chivalry. 

We were now nearing the Borders of Scotland and England, where thisBorder warfare formerly raged for centuries. The desperadoes engaged init on the Scottish side were known as Moss-troopers, any of whom whencaught by the English were taken to Carlisle and hanged near there at aplace called Hairibee. Those who claimed the "benefit of clergy" wereallowed to repeat in Latin the "Miserere mei, " at the beginning of the51st Psalm, before they were executed, this becoming known as the"neck-verse. "

William of Deloraine was one of the most desperate Moss-troopers everengaged in Border warfare, but he, according to Sir Walter Scott:

 By wily turns, by desperate bounds, Had baffled Percy's best blood-hounds; In Eske or Liddel, fords were none, But he would ride them, one by one;

 * * * * *

 Steady of heart, and stout of hand. As ever drove prey from Cumberland; Five times outlawed had he been, By England's King, and Scotland's Queen. 

When Sir Michael Scott was buried in Melrose Abbey his MysticBook--which no one was ever to see except the Chief of Branxholm, andthen only in the time of need--was buried with him. Branxholm Tower wasabout eighteen miles from Melrose and situated in the vale of Cheviot. After the death of Lord Walter (who had been killed in the Borderwarfare), a gathering of the kinsmen of the great Buccleuch was heldthere, and the "Ladye Margaret" left the company, retiring laden withsorrow and her impending troubles to her bower. It was a fine moonlightnight when--

 From amid the arméd train She called to her, William of Deloraine. 

and sent him for the mighty book to Melrose Abbey which was to relieveher of all her troubles. 

 "Sir William of Deloraine, good at need, Mount thee on the wightest steed; Spare not to spur, nor stint to ride. Until thou come to fair Tweedside; And in Melrose's holy pile Seek thou the Monk of St. Mary's aisle. Greet the Father well from me; Say that the fated hour is come, And to-night he shall watch with thee, To win the treasure of the tomb: For this will be St. Michael's night, And, though stars be dim, the moon is bright; And the Cross, of bloody red, Will point to the grave of the mighty dead. 

 * * * * *

 "What he gives thee, see thou keep; Stay not thou for food or sleep: Be it scroll, or be it book, Into it, Knight, thou must not look; If thou readest, thou art lorn! Better had'st thou ne'er been born. "--

 * * * * *

 "O swiftly can speed my dapple-grey steed, Which drinks of the Teviot clear; Ere break of day, " the Warrior 'gan say, "Again will I be here: And safer by none may thy errand be done, Than, noble dame, by me; Letter nor line know I never a one, Wer't my neck-verse at Hairibee. "

Deloraine lost no time in carrying out his Ladye's wishes, and rodefuriously on his horse to Melrose Abbey in order to be there bymidnight, and as described in Sir Walter Scott's "Lay of the LastMinstrel":

 Short halt did Deloraine make there; Little reck'd he of the scene so fair With dagger's hilt, on the wicket strong, He struck full loud, and struck full long. The porter hurried to the gate-- "Who knocks so loud, and knocks so late?" "From Branksome I, " the warrior cried; And straight the wicket open'd wide For Branksome's Chiefs had in battle stood, To fence the rights of fair Melrose; And lands and livings, many a rood, Had gifted the Shrine for their souls' repose. 

 * * * * *

 Bold Deloraine his errand said; The porter bent his humble head; With torch in hand, and feet unshod. And noiseless step, the path he trod. The archèd cloister, far and wide, Rang to the warrior's clanking stride, Till, stooping low his lofty crest, He enter'd the cell of the ancient priest, And lifted his barred aventayle, To hail the Monk of St. Mary's aisle. 

 * * * * *

 "The Ladye of Branksome greets thee by me, Says, that the fated hour is come, And that to-night I shall watch with thee, To win the treasure of the tomb. " From sackcloth couch the Monk arose, With toil his stiffen'd limbs he rear'd; A hundred years had flung their snows On his thin locks and floating beard. 

 And strangely on the Knight look'd he, And his blue eyes gleam'd wild and wide; "And, darest thou, Warrior! seek to see What heaven and hell alike would hide? My breast, in belt of iron pent, With shirt of hair and scourge of thorn; For threescore years, in penance spent. My knees those flinty stones have worn; Yet all too little to atone For knowing what should ne'er be known. Would'st thou thy every future year In ceaseless prayer and penance drie, Yet wait thy latter end with fear Then, daring Warrior, follow me!"

 * * * * *

 "Penance, father, will I none; Prayer know I hardly one; For mass or prayer can I rarely tarry, Save to patter an Ave Mary, When I ride on a Border foray. Other prayer can I none; So speed me my errand, and let me be gone. "

 * * * * *

 Again on the Knight look'd the Churchman old, And again he sighed heavily; For he had himself been a warrior bold. And fought in Spain and Italy. And he thought on the days that were long since by, When his limbs were strong, and his courage was high-- Now, slow and faint, he led the way, Where, cloister'd round, the garden lay; The pillar'd arches were over their head, And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead. 

 * * * * *

 The moon on the east oriel shone Through slender shafts of shapely stone, * * * * *

 The silver light, so pale and faint, Shew'd many a prophet, and many a saint, Whose image on the glass was dyed; Full in the midst, his Cross of Red Triumphal Michael brandished, And trampled the Apostate's pride. The moon beam kiss'd the holy pane, And threw on the pavement a bloody stain. 

 * * * * *

 They sate them down on a marble stone, -- (A Scottish monarch slept below;) Thus spoke the Monk, in solemn tone-- "I was not always a man of woe; For Paynim countries I have trod, And fought beneath the Cross of God: Now, strange to my eyes thine arms appear. And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear. 

 * * * * *

 "In these far climes it was my lot To meet the wondrous Michael Scott;

 * * * * *

 Some of his skill he taught to me; And, Warrior, I could say to thee The words that cleft Eildon hills in three, And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone: But to speak them were a deadly sin; And for having but thought them my heart within, A treble penance must be done. 

 * * * * *

 "When Michael lay on his dying bed, His conscience was awakened He bethought him of his sinful deed, And he gave me a sign to come with speed. I was in Spain when the morning rose, But I stood by his bed ere evening close. The words may not again be said That he spoke to me, on death-bed laid; They would rend this Abbaye's massy nave, And pile it in heaps above his grave. 

 * * * * *

 "I swore to bury his Mighty Book, That never mortal might therein look; And never to tell where it was hid, Save at his Chief of Branksome's need: And when that need was past and o'er, Again the volume to restore. I buried him on St. Michael's night, When the bell toll'd one, and the moon was bright, And I dug his chamber among the dead, When the floor of the chancel was stained red, That his patron's cross might over him wave, And scare the fiends from the Wizard's grave. 

 * * * * *

 "It was a night of woe and dread, When Michael in the tomb I laid! Strange sounds along the chancel pass'd, The banners waved without a blast"-- Still spoke the Monk, when the bell toll'd one!-- I tell you, that a braver man Than William of Deloraine, good at need, Against a foe ne'er spurr'd a steed; Yet somewhat was he chill'd with dread, And his hair did bristle upon his head. 

 * * * * *

 "Lo, Warrior! now, the Cross of Red Points to the grave of the mighty dead; Within it burns a wondrous light, To chase the spirits that love the night: That lamp shall burn unquenchably, Until the eternal doom shall be. "-- Slow moved the Monk to the broad flag-stone, Which the bloody Cross was traced upon:

 He pointed to a secret nook; An iron bar the Warrior took; And the Monk made a sign with his wither'd hand, The grave's huge portal to expand. 

 * * * * *

 With beating heart to the task he went; His sinewy frame o'er the grave-stone bent; With bar of iron heaved amain, Till the toil-drops fell from his brows, like rain. It was by dint of passing strength, That he moved the massy stone at length. I would you had been there, to see How the light broke forth so gloriously, Stream'd upward to the chancel roof, And through the galleries far aloof! No earthly flame blazed e'er so bright: It shone like heaven's own blessed light, And, issuing from the tomb, Show'd the Monk's cowl, and visage pale, Danced on the dark-brow'd Warrior's mail, And kiss'd his waving plume. 

 * * * * *

 Before their eyes the Wizard lay, As if he had not been dead a day. His hoary beard in silver roll'd. He seem'd some seventy winters old; A palmer's amice wrapp'd him round, With a wrought Spanish baldric bound, Like a pilgrim from beyond the sea: His left hand held his Book of Might; A silver cross was in his right; The lamp was placed beside his knee: High and majestic was his look, At which the fellest fiends had shook. And all unruffled was his face: They trusted his soul had gotten grace. 

 * * * * *

 Often had William of Deloraine Rode through the battle's bloody plain, And trampled down the warriors slain, And neither known remorse nor awe; Yet now remorse and awe he own'd; His breath came thick, his head swam round. When this strange scene of death he saw. Bewilder'd and unnerved he stood. And the priest pray'd fervently and loud: With eyes averted prayed he; He might not endure the sight to see. Of the man he had loved so brotherly. 

 * * * * *

 And when the priest his death-prayer had pray'd, Thus unto Deloraine he said:-- "Now, speed thee what thou hast to do, Or, Warrior, we may dearly rue;

 For those, thou may'st not look upon, Are gathering fast round the yawning stone!"-- Then Deloraine, in terror, took From the cold hand the Mighty Book, With iron clasp'd, and with iron bound: He thought, as he took it, the dead man frown'd; But the glare of the sepulchral light, Perchance, had dazzled the Warrior's sight. 

 * * * * *

 When the huge stone sunk o'er the tomb. The night return'd in double gloom; For the moon had gone down, and the stars were few; And, as the Knight and Priest withdrew. With wavering steps and dizzy brain, They hardly might the postern gain. 'Tis said, as through the aisles they pass'd, They heard strange noises on the blast; And through the cloister-galleries small, Which at mid-height thread the chancel wall, Loud sobs, and laughter louder, ran, And voices unlike the voices of man; As if the fiends kept holiday, Because these spells were brought to day. I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as 'twas said to me. 

 * * * * *

 "Now, hie thee hence, " the Father said, "And when we are on death-bed laid, O may our dear Ladye, and sweet St. John, Forgive our souls for the deed we have done!"-- The Monk return'd him to his cell, And many a prayer and penance sped; When the convent met at the noontide bell-- The Monk of St. Mary's aisle was dead! Before the cross was the body laid, With hands clasp'd fast, as if still he pray'd. 

What became of Sir William Deloraine and the wonderful book on hisreturn journey we had no time to read that evening, but we afterwardslearned he fell into the hands of the terrible Black Dwarf. We haddecided to walk to Hawick if possible, although we were rather reluctantto leave Melrose. We had had one good tea on entering the town, and mybrother suggested having another before leaving it, so after visitingthe graveyard of the abbey, where the following curious epitaph appearedon one of the stones, we returned to the inn, where the people werehighly amused at seeing us return so soon and for such a purpose:

 The earth goeth to the earth Glist'ring like gold; The earth goeth to the earth Sooner than it wold; The earth builds on the earth Castles and Towers; The earth says to the earth, All shall be ours. 

Still, we were quite ready for our second tea, and wondered whetherthere was any exercise that gave people a better appetite and a greaterjoy in appeasing it than walking, especially in the clear and sharp airof Scotland, for we were nearly always extremely hungry after an hour ortwo's walk. When the tea was served, I noticed that my brother lingeredover it longer than usual, and when I reminded him that the night wouldsoon be on us, he said he did not want to leave before dark, as hewanted to see how the old abbey appeared at night, quoting Sir WalterScott as the reason why:

 If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moonlight; For the gay beams of lightsome day Gild, but to flout, the ruins grey. When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white; When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruin'd central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory; When silver edges the imagery. And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die; When distant Tweed is heard to rave, And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, Then go--but go alone the while-- Then view St. David's ruin'd pile; And, home returning, soothly swear. Was ever scene so sad and fair?

I reminded my brother that there would be no moon visible that night, and that it would therefore be impossible to see the old abbey "by thepale moonlight"; but he said the starlight would do just as well forhim, so we had to wait until one or two stars made their appearance, andthen departed, calling at a shop to make a few small purchases as wepassed on our way. The path alongside the abbey was entirely deserted. Though so near the town there was scarcely a sound to be heard, not even"the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave. " Although we had nomoonlight, the stars were shining brightly through the ruined archeswhich had once been filled with stained glass, representing the figures"of many a prophet and many a saint. " It was a beautiful sight thatremained in our memories long after other scenes had been forgotten. 

According to the Koran there were four archangels: Azrael, the angel ofdeath; Azrafil, who was to sound the trumpet at the resurrection;Gabriel, the angel of revelations, who wrote down the divine decrees;and Michael, the champion, who fought the battles of faith, --and it wasthis Michael whose figure Sir Walter Scott described as appearing fullin the midst of the east oriel window "with his Cross of bloody red, "which in the light of the moon shone on the floor of the abbey and"pointed to the grave of the mighty dead" into which the Monk andWilliam of Deloraine had to descend to secure possession of the "MightyBook. "

After passing the old abbey and the shade of the walls and trees to findour way to the narrow and rough road along which we had to traveltowards Hawick, we halted for a few moments at the side of the road toarrange the contents of our bags, in order to make room for the smallpurchases we had made in the town. We had almost completed thereadjustment when we heard the heavy footsteps of a man approaching, whopassed us walking along the road we were about to follow. My brotherasked him if he was going far that way, to which he replied, "A goodishbit, " so we said we should be glad of his company; but he walked onwithout speaking to us further. We pushed the remaining things in ourbags as quickly as possible, and hurried on after him. As we did notovertake him, we stood still and listened attentively, thoughfruitlessly, for not a footstep could we hear. We then accelerated ourpace to what was known as the "Irishman's Trig"--a peculiar step, quicker than a walk, but slower than a run--and after going somedistance we stopped again to listen; but the only sound we could hearwas the barking of a solitary dog a long distance away. This was veryprovoking, as we wanted to get some information about our road, which, besides being rough, was both hilly and very lonely, and more in thenature of a track than a road. Where the man could have disappeared towas a mystery on a road apparently without any offshoots, so weconcluded he must have thought we contemplated doing him some bodilyharm, and had either "bolted" or "clapp'd, " as my brother described it, behind some rock or bush, in which case he must have felt relieved andperhaps amused when he heard us "trigging" past him on the road. 

[Illustration: LILLIESLEAF AND THE EILDON HILLS. ]

We continued along the lonely road without his company, with the ghostlyEildon Hills on one side and the moors on the other, until after walkingsteadily onwards for a few miles, we heard the roar of a mountain streamin the distance. When we reached it we were horrified to find it runningright across our road. It looked awful in the dark, as it was quitedeep, and although we could just see where our road emerged from thestream on the other side, it was quite impossible for us to cross in thedark. We could see a few lights some distance beyond the stream, but itwas useless to attempt to call for help, since our voices could not beheard above the noise of the torrent. Our position seemed almosthopeless, until my brother said he thought he had seen a shed or a smallhouse behind a gate some distance before coming to the stream. Weresolved to turn back, and luckily we discovered it to be a small lodgeguarding the entrance to a private road. We knocked at the door of thehouse, which was in darkness, the people having evidently gone to bed. Presently a woman asked what was wanted, and when we told her we couldnot get across the stream, she said there was a footbridge near by, which we had not seen in the dark, and told us how to find it a littlehigher up the stream. Needless to relate, we were very pleased when wegot across the bridge, and we measured the distance across thatturbulent stream in fifteen long strides. 

We soon reached the lights we had seen, and found a small village, whereat the inn we got some strange lodgings, and slept that night in a bedof a most curious construction, as it was in a dark place under thestairs, entered by a door from the parlour. But it was clean andcomfortable, and we were delighted to make use of it after our longwalk. 

(_Distance walked thirty miles_. )

_Wednesday, October 11th. _

We had been warned when we retired to rest that it was most likely weshould be wakened early in the morning by people coming down the stairs, and advised to take no notice of them, as no one would interfere with usor our belongings. We were not surprised, therefore, when we werearoused early by heavy footsteps immediately over our heads, which wesupposed were those of the landlord as he came down the stairs. We hadslept soundly, and, since there was little chance of any furtherslumber, we decided to get up and look round, the village beforebreakfast. We had to use the parlour as a dressing-room, and not knowingwho might be coming down the stairs next, we dressed ourselves asquickly as possible. We found that the village was called Lilliesleaf, which we thought a pretty name, though we were informed it had beenspelt in twenty-seven different ways, while the stream we came to in thenight was known by the incongruous name of Ale Water. The lodge we hadgone back to for information as to the means of crossing was the EastGate guarding one of the entrances to Riddell, a very ancient placewhere Sir Walter Scott had recorded the unearthing of two graves ofspecial interest, one containing an earthen pot filled with ashes andarms, and bearing the legible date of 729, and the other dated 936, filled with the bones of a man of gigantic size. 

A local historian wrote of the Ale Water that "it is one thing to see iton a summer day when it can be crossed by the stepping-stones, andanother when heavy rains have fallen in the autumn--then it is astrong, deep current and carries branches and even trees on its surface, the ford at Riddell East Gate being impassable, and it is only then thatwe can appreciate the scene. " It seemed a strange coincidence that weshould be travelling on the same track but in the opposite direction asthat pursued by William Deloraine, and that we should have crossed theAle Water about a fortnight later in the year, as Sir Walter describedhim in his "Lay" as riding along the wooded path when "green hazels o'erhis basnet nod, " which indicated the month of September. 

 Unchallenged, thence pass'd Deloraine, To ancient Riddell's fair domain, Where Aill, from mountain freed, Down from the lakes did raving come; Each wave was crested with tawny foam, Like the mane of a chestnut steed. In vain! no torrent, deep or broad. Might bar the bold moss-trooper's road. 

 * * * * *

 At the first plunge the horse sunk low, And the water broke o'er the saddlebow; Above the foaming tide, I ween, Scarce half the charger's neck was seen; For he was barded from counter to tail, And the rider was armed complete in mail; Never heavier man and horse Stemm'd a midnight torrent's force. The warrior's very plume, I say Was daggled by the dashing spray; Yet, through good heart, and Our Ladye's grace, At length he gain'd the landing place. 

What would have become of ourselves if we had attempted to cross thetreacherous stream in the dark of the previous night we did not know, but we were sure we should have risked our lives had we made theattempt. 

We were only able to explore the churchyard at Lilliesleaf, as thechurch was not open at that early hour in the morning. We copied acurious inscription from one of the old stones there:

 Near this stone we lifeless lie No more the things of earth to spy, But we shall leave this dusty bed When Christ appears to judge the dead. For He shall come in glory great And in the air shall have His seat And call all men before His throne. Rewarding all as they have done. 

We were served with a prodigious breakfast at the inn to match, as wesupposed, the big appetites prevailing in the North, and then we resumedour walk towards Hawick, meeting on our way the children coming to theschool at Lilliesleaf, some indeed quite a long way from theirdestination. In about four miles we reached Hassendean and the RiverTeviot, for we were now in Teviot Dale, along which we were to walk, following the river nearly to its source in the hills above. The oldkirk of Hassendean had been dismantled in 1693, but its burial-groundcontinued to be used until 1795, when an ice-flood swept away allvestiges both of the old kirk and the churchyard. It was of thisdisaster that Leyden, the poet and orientalist, who was born in 1775 atthe pretty village of Denholm close by, wrote the following lines:

 By fancy wrapt, where tombs are crusted grey, I seem by moon-illumined graves to stray, Where now a mouldering pile is faintly seen-- The old deserted church of Hassendean, Where slept my fathers in their natal clay Till Teviot waters rolled their bones away. 

[Illustration: LEYDEN'S COTTAGE. ]

Leyden was a great friend of Sir Walter Scott, whom he helped to gathermaterials for his "Border Minstrelsie, " and was referred to in his novelof _St. Ronan's Well_ as "a lamp too early quenched. " In 1811 he went toIndia with Lord Minto, who was at that time Governor-General, as hisinterpreter, for Leyden was a great linguist. He died of fever caused bylooking through some old infected manuscripts at Batavia on the coast ofJava. Sir Walter had written a long letter to him which was returnedowing to his death. He also referred to him in his _Lord of the Isles_:

 His bright and brief career is o'er, And mute his tuneful strains; Quench'd is his lamp of varied lore, That loved the light of song to pour; A distant and a deadly shore Has Leyden's cold remains. 

The Minto estate adjoined Hassenden, and the country around it was verybeautiful, embracing the Minto Hills or Crags, Minto House, and a castlerejoicing, as we thought, in the queer name of "Fatlips. "

The walk to the top of Minto Crags was very pleasant, but in olden timesno stranger dared venture there, as the Outlaw Brownhills was inpossession, and had hewn himself out of the rock an almost inaccessibleplatform on one of the crags still known as "Brownhills' Bed" from whichhe could see all the roads below. Woe betide the unsuspecting travellerwho happened to fall into his hands!

But we must not forget Deloraine, for after receiving instructions fromthe "Ladye of Branksome"--

[Illustration: "FATLIPS" CASTLE. ]

 Soon in the saddle sate he fast, And soon the steep descent he past, Soon cross'd the sounding barbican. And soon the Teviot side he won. Eastward the wooded path he rode. Green hazels o'er his basnet nod; He passed the Peel of Goldieland, And crossed old Borthwick's roaring strand; Dimly he view'd the Moat-hill's mound. Where Druid shades still flitted round; In Hawick twinkled many a light; Behind him soon they set in night; And soon he spurr'd his courser keen Beneath the tower of Hazeldean. 

 * * * * *

 The clattering hoofs the watchmen mark;-- "Stand, ho! thou courier of the dark. "-- "For Branksome, ho!" the knight rejoin'd. And left the friendly tower behind. He turn'd him now from Tiviotside, And, guided by the tinkling rill, Northward the dark ascent did ride. And gained the moor at Horsliehill; Broad on the left before him lay, For many a mile, the Roman Way. 

 * * * * *

 A moment now he slacked his speed, A moment breathed his panting steed; Drew saddle-girth and corslet-band, And loosen'd in the sheath his brand. On Minto-crags the moonbeams glint, Where Barnhills hew'd his bed of flint; Who flung his outlaw'd limbs to rest, Where falcons hang their giddy nest Mid cliffs, from whence his eagle eye For many a league his prey could spy; Cliffs, doubling, on their echoes borne, The terrors of the robber's horn!

We passed through a cultivated country on the verge of the moors, wherewe saw some good farms, one farmer telling us he had 900 acres of arableland with some moorland in addition. He was superintending the gatheringof a good crop of fine potatoes, which he told us were "ProtestantRocks. " He was highly amused when one of us suggested to the other thatthey might just have suited a country parson we knew in England whowould not have the best variety of potatoes, called "Radicals, " plantedin his garden because he did not like the name. He was further amusedwhen we innocently asked him the best way to reach Hawick, pronouncingthe name in two syllables which sounded like Hay-wick, while the localpronunciation was "Hoike. " However, we soon reached that town and had atwelve-o'clock lunch at one of the inns, where we heard something of theprincipal annual event of the town, the "Common Riding, " the occasion onwhich the officials rode round the boundaries. There was an artificialmound in the town called the "Mote-Hill, " formerly used by the Druids. It was to the top of this hill the cornet and his followers ascended atsunrise on the day of the festival, after which they adjourned to aplatform specially erected in the town, to sing the Common Riding Song. We could not obtain a copy of this, but we were fortunate in obtainingone for the next town we were to visit--Langholm--which proved to be thelast on our walk through Scotland. From what we could learn, theceremony at Hawick seemed very like the walking of the parish boundariesin England, a custom which was there slowly becoming obsolete. We couldonly remember attending one of these ceremonies, and that was inCheshire. The people of the adjoining parish walked their boundaries onthe same day, so we were bound to meet them at some point _en route_, and a free fight, fanned by calling at sundry public-houses, wasgenerally the result. The greatest danger-zone lay where a stream formedthe boundary between the two parishes, at a point traversed by a culvertor small tunnel through a lofty embankment supporting a canal whichcrossed a small valley. This boundary was, of course, common to bothparishes, and representatives of each were expected to pass through itto maintain their rights, so that it became a matter of some anxiety asto which of the boundary walkers would reach it first, or whether thatwould be the point where both parties would meet. We remembered comingto a full stop when we reached one entrance to the small tunnel, whilethe scouts ascended the embankment to see if the enemy were in sight onthe other side; but as they reported favourably, we decided that two ofour party should walk through the culvert, while the others went roundby the roads to the other end. There was a fair amount of water passingthrough at that time, so they were very wet on emerging from theopposite end, and it was impossible for the men to walk upright, thecontracted position in which they were compelled to walk making thepassage very difficult. What would have happened if the opposition hadcome up while our boundary walkers were in the tunnel we could onlysurmise. 

Hawick is in Roxburghshire and was joined on to Wilton at a house calledthe Salt Hall, or the "Saut Ha', " as it is pronounced in Scotch, where atragedy took place in the year 1758. The tenant of the Hall at that timewas a man named Rea, whose wife had committed suicide by cutting herthroat. In those days it was the custom to bury suicides at the dead ofnight where the laird's lands met, usually a very lonely corner, and astake was driven through the body of the corpse; but from some cause orother the authorities allowed "Jenny Saut Ha', " as she was commonlycalled, to be buried in the churchyard. This was considered by manypeople to be an outrage, and the body was disinterred at night, and thecoffin placed against the Saut Ha' door, where Rea was confronted withit next morning. There was a sharp contest between the Churchauthorities and the public, and the body was once more interred in thechurchyard, but only to fall on Rea when he opened his door the nextmorning. The authorities were then compelled to yield to the popularclamour, and the corpse found a temporary resting-place in a remotecorner of Wilton Common; but the minister ultimately triumphed, andJenny was again buried in the churchyard, there to rest for all time inpeace. 

[Illustration: WILTON OLD CHURCH. ]

We had now joined the old coach road from London to Edinburgh, a stoneon the bridge informing us that that city was fifty miles distant. Weturned towards London, and as we were leaving the town we asked threemen, who had evidently tramped a long distance, what sort of a road itwas to Langholm, our next stage. They informed us that it wastwenty-three miles to that town, that the road was a good one, but weshould not be able to get a drink the whole way, for "there wasn't asingle public-house on the road. "

Presently, however, we reached a turnpike gate across our road, and asthere was some fruit exhibited for sale in the window of the toll-housewe went inside, and found the mistress working at her spinning-wheel, making a kind of worsted out of which she made stockings. We bought asmuch fruit from her as the limited space in our bags allowed, and had achat with her about the stocking trade, which was the staple industry ofHawick. She told us there were about 800 people employed in thatbusiness, and that they went out on strike on the Monday previous, butwith an advance in their wages had gone in again that morning. 

The stockings were now made by machines, but were formerly all made byhand. The inventor of the first machine was a young man who had fallendeeply in love with a young woman, who, like most others livingthereabouts at that time, got her living by making stockings. When heproposed to her, she would not have him, because she knew another youngman she liked better. He then told her if she would not marry him hewould make a machine that would make stockings and throw her out of workand ruin them all. But the girl decided to remain true to the young manshe loved best, and was presently married to him. 

[Illustration: GOLDIELANDS TOWER. ]

The disappointed lover then set to work, and, after much thought andlabour, succeeded in making a stocking machine; and although it createda great stir in Hawick, where all three were well known, it did notthrow any one out of work, but was so improved upon with the result thatmore stockings were made and sold at Hawick than ever before!

We thanked the old lady for her story, and, bidding her good-bye, wenton our way. Presently we came to the ruins of a castle standing near theroad which a clergyman informed us was Goldielands Tower, mentioned withHarden by Sir Walter Scott in the "Lay of the Last Minstrel. " He told usthat a little farther on our way we should also see Branxholm, anotherplace referred to by Scott. Although we were on the look out forBranxholm, we passed without recognising it, as it resembled a largefamily mansion more than the old tower we had expected it to be. 

[Illustration: BRANXHOLM TOWER. ]

It was astonishing what a number of miles we walked in Scotland withoutfinding anything of any value on the roads. A gentleman told us he oncefound a threepenny bit on the road near a village where he happened tobe staying at the inn. When his find became known in the village, itcreated quite a sensation amongst the inhabitants, owing to the "siller"having fallen into the hands of a "Saxon, " and he gravely added to theinformation that one-half of the people went in mourning and that it waseven mentioned in the kirk as the "awfu'" waste that had occurred in theparish!

[Illustration]

We were not so lucky as to find a silver coin, but had the good fortuneto find something of more importance in the shape of a love-letter whichsome one had lost on the road, and which supplied us with food forthought and words for expression, quite cheering us up as we marchedalong our lonely road. As Kate and John now belong to a past generation, we consider ourselves absolved from any breach of confidence and give afacsimile of the letter (see page 198). The envelope was not addressed, so possibly John might have intended sending it by messenger, or Katemight have received it and lost it on the road, which would perhaps bethe more likely thing to happen. We wondered whether the meeting evercame off. 

[Illustration: COVENANTER'S GRAVE. ]

Shortly after passing Branxholm, and near the point where the AllanWater joined the River Teviot, we turned to visit what we had beeninformed was in the time of King Charles I a hiding place for the peopleknown as Covenanters. These were Scottish Presbyterians, who in 1638, toresist that king's encroachments on their religious liberty, formed a"Solemn League, " followed in 1643 by an international Solemn League andCovenant "between England and Scotland to secure both civil andreligious liberty. " These early Covenanters were subjected to greatpersecution, consequently their meetings were held in the most lonelyplaces--on the moors, in the glens, and on the wild mountain sides. Weclimbed up through a wood and found the meeting-place in the ruins of atower--commonly said to have been built by the Romans, though wedoubted it--the remains of which consisted of an archway a few yardlongs and a few yards square, surrounded by three trenches. It occupieda very strong position, and standing upon it we could see a hill a shortdistance away on the top of which was a heap of stones marking the spotwhere a bon-fire was lit and a flag reared when Queen Victoria drovealong the road below, a few years before our visit. 

In former times in this part of Scotland there seemed to have been abard, poet, or minstrel in every village, and they appeared to have beennumerous enough to settle their differences, and sometimes themselves, by fighting for supremacy, for it was at Bradhaugh near here that adeadly combat took place in 1627 between William Henderson, known as"Rattling Roaring Willie, " and Robert Rule, another Border minstrel, inwhich, according to an old ballad, Willie slew his opponent, for--

 Rob Roole, he handled rude. And Willie left Newmill's banks Red-wat wi' Robin's blude. 

[Illustration: HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL. ]

At Teviothead our road parted company with the River Teviot, whichforked away to the right, its source being only about six miles fartherup the hills from that point. In the churchyard at Teviothead, HenryScott Riddell, the author of _Scotland Yet_, had only recently beenburied. Near here also was Caerlanrig, where the murder of JohnnieArmstrong of Gilnockie, a very powerful chief who levied blackmail alongthe Border from Esk to Tyne, or practically the whole length ofHadrian's Wall, took place in 1530. Johnnie was a notorious freebooterand Border raider, no one daring to go his way for fear of Johnnie orhis followers. But of him more anon. 

The distance from Caerlanrig, where Armstrong was executed, to GilnockieTower, where he resided, was about seventeen miles, and we had tofollow, though in the opposite direction and a better surfaced road, thesame lonely and romantic track that he traversed on that occasion. Itformed a pass between the hills, and for the first seven miles theelevations in feet above sea-level on each side of the road were:

 To our right:--1193. 1286. 1687. 1950. 1714. 1317. 1446. To our left:--1156. 1595. 1620. 1761. 1741. 1242. 1209. 

The distance between the summits as the crow flies was only about amile, while the road maintained an altitude above the sea of from fiveto eight hundred feet, so that we had a most lonely walk of aboutthirteen miles before we reached Langholm. The road was a good one, andwe were in no danger of missing our way, hemmed in as it was on eitherside by the hills, which, although treeless, were covered with grassapparently right away to their tops, a novelty to us after the bare androcky hills we had passed elsewhere. We quite enjoyed our walk, and aswe watched the daylight gradually fade away before the approachingshadows of the night, we realised that we were passing through thewildest solitudes. We did not meet one human being until we reachedLangholm, and the only habitation we noted before reaching a smallvillage just outside that town was the "Halfway House" between Hawickand Langholm, known in stage-coach days as the "Mosspaul Inn. " It was alarge house near the entrance to a small glen, but apparently nowclosed, for we could not see a solitary light nor hear the sound of ahuman voice. 

How different it must have appeared when the stage-coaches were passingup and down that valley, now deserted, for even the railway, whichsupplanted them, had passed it by on the other side! In imagination wecould hear the sound of the horn, echoing in the mountains, heraldingthe approach of the stage-coach, with its great lamp in front, and couldsee a light in almost every window in the hotel. We could picture minehost and his wife standing at the open door ready to receive theirvisitors, expectant guests assembled behind them in the hall andexpectant servants both indoors and out; then staying for the night, refreshing ourselves with the good things provided for supper, andafterwards relating our adventures to a friendly and appreciativeaudience, finally sinking our weary limbs in the good old-fashionedfeather-beds!

But these visions passed away almost as quickly as they appeared, so weleft the dark and dreary mansion whose glory had departed, and marchedon our way, expecting to find at Langholm that which we so badlyneeded--food and rest. 

The old inn at Mosspaul, where the stage-coaches stopped to changehorses, was built at the junction of the counties of Dumfries andRoxburgh, and was very extensive with accommodation for many horses, butfell to ruin after the stage-coaches ceased running. Many notablevisitors had patronised it, among others Dorothy Wordsworth, who visitedit with her brother the poet in September 1803, and described it in thefollowing graphic terms:

 The scene, with this single dwelling, was melancholy and wild, but not dreary, though there was no tree nor shrub: the small streamlet glittered, the hills were populous with sheep, but the gentle bending of the valley, and the correspondent softness in the forms of the hills were of themselves enough to delight the eye. 

A good story is told of one of the Armstrongs and the inn:

Once when Lord Kames went for the first time on the Circuit asAdvocate-depute, Armstrong of Sorbie inquired of Lord Minto in a whisper"What long black, dour-looking Chiel" that was that they had broc'htwith them?

"That, " said his lordship, "is a man come to hang a' the Armstrongs. "

"Then, " was the dry retort, "it's time the Elliots wereridin'. "[Footnote: Elliot was the family name of Lord Minto. ]

The effusions of one of the local poets whose district we had passedthrough had raised our expectations in the following lines:

 There's a wee toon on the Borders That my heart sair langs to see, Where in youthful days I wander'd, Knowing every bank and brae; O'er the hills and through the valleys, Thro' the woodlands wild and free, Thro' the narrow straits and loanings, There my heart sair langs to be. 

[Illustration: THE COMMON RIDING, LANGHOLM. ]

There was also an old saying, "Out of the world and into Langholm, "which seemed very applicable to ourselves, for after a walk ofthirty-two and a half miles through a lonely and hilly country, withouta solitary house of call for twenty-three, our hungry and wearycondition may be imagined when we entered Langholm just on the stroke ofeleven o'clock at night. 

We went to the Temperance Hotel, but were informed they were full. Wecalled at the other four inns with the same result. Next we appealed tothe solitary police officer, who told us curtly that the inns closed ateleven and the lodgings at ten, and marched away without another word. The disappointment and feeling of agony at having to walk farther cannotbe described, but there was no help for it, so we shook the dust, ormud, off our feet and turned dejectedly along the Carlisle road. 

Just at the end of the town we met a gentleman wearing a top-hat and afrock-coat, so we appealed to him. The hour was too late to find uslodgings, but he said, if we wished to do so, we could shelter in hisdistillery, which we should come to a little farther on our way. His menwould all be in bed, but there was one door that was unlocked and weshould find some of the rooms very warm. We thanked him for his kindnessand found the door, as he had described, opening into a dark room. Wehad never been in a distillery before, so we were naturally rathernervous, and as we could not see a yard before us, we lighted one of ourcandles. We were about to go in search of one of the warmer rooms whenthe thought occurred to us that our light might attract the attention ofsome outsider, and in the absence of any written authority from theowner might cause us temporary trouble, while to explore the distillerywithout a light was out of the question, for we might fall through sometrap-door or into a vat, besides which, we could hear a great rush ofwater in the rear of the premises, so we decided to stay where we were. 

The book we had obtained at Hawick contained the following descriptionof the Langholm "Common Riding, " which was held each year on July 17thwhen the people gathered together to feast on barley bannock and redherring, of course washed down with plenteous supplies of theindispensable whisky. The Riding began with the following proclamationin the marketplace, given by a man standing upright on horseback, in thepresence of thousands of people:

 Gentlemen, --The first thing that I am going to acquaint you with are the names of the Portioners' Grounds of Langholm:--

 Now, Gentlemen, we're gan' frae the Toun, An' first of a' the Kil Green we gang roun', It is an ancient place where Clay is got, And it belangs to us by Right and Lot, And then frae here the Lang-Wood we gang throu' Where every ane may breckons out an' pu', An' last of a' oor Marches they be clear, An' when unto the Castle Craigs we come, I'll cry the Langholm Fair and then we'll beat the drum. 

 Now, Gentlemen. What you have heard this day concerning going round our Marches, it is expected that every one who has occasion for Peats, Breckons, Flacks, Stanes, or Clay, will go out in defence of their Property, and they shall hear the Proclamation of the Langholm Fair upon the Castle Craigs. 

 Now, Gentlemen, we have gane roun our hill, So now I think it's right we had oor fill Of guid strang punch--'twould make us a' to sing. Because this day we have dune a guid thing; For gangin' roun' oor hill we think nae shame, Because frae it oor peats and flacks come hame; So now I will conclude and say nae mair. An' if ye're pleased I'll cry the Langholm Fair. Hoys, yes! that's ae time! Hoys, yes! that's twae times!! Hoys, yes! that's the third and the last time!!!

 This is to Give Notice, That there is a muckle Fair to be hadden in the muckle Toun o' the Langholm, on the 15th day of July, auld style, upon his Grace the Duke of Buccleuch's Merk Land, for the space of eight days and upwards; and a' land-loupers, and dub-scoupers, and gae-by-the-gate-swingers, that come here to breed hurdums or durdums, huliments or buliments, haggle-ments or braggle-ments, or to molest this public Fair, they shall be ta'en by order of the Bailie and Toun Council, and their lugs be nailed to the Tron wi' a twal-penny nail, and they shall sit doun on their bare knees and pray seven times for the King, and thrice for the Mickle Laird o' Ralton, and pay a groat to me, Jemmy Ferguson, Bailie o' the aforesaid Manor, and I'll awa' hame and ha'e a bannock and a saut herrin'. 

 HUZZA! HUZZAH!! HUZZAH!!!

[Illustration: GILNOCKIE BRIDGE, LANGHOLM. ]

The monument on the top of Whita Hill was erected in memory of one ofthe famous four Knights of Langholm, the sons of Malcolm of Burn Foot, whose Christian names were James, Pulteney, John, and Charles, all ofwhom became distinguished men. Sir James was made a K. C. B, and a Colonelin the Royal Marines. He served on board the _Canopus_ at the Battle ofSan Domingo, taking a prominent part in the American War of 1812. Hedied at Milnholm, near Langholm, at the age of eighty-two. PulteneyMalcolm rose to the rank of Admiral and served under Lord Nelson, but ashis ship was refitting at Gibraltar he missed taking part in the Battleof Trafalgar, though he arrived just in time to capture the Spanish120-gun ship _El Kago_. He became intimately acquainted with NapoleonBonaparte, as he had the command of the British worships that guardedhim during his captivity at St. Helena. Sir John Malcolm was adistinguished Indian statesman, and it was to him that the monument onWhita Hill had been erected. The monument, which was visible for manymiles, was 100 feet high, and the hill itself 1, 162 feet abovesea-level. Sir Charles Malcolm, the youngest of the four brothers, afterseeing much active service, rose to be Vice-Admiral of the Fleet. 

[Illustration: GILNOCKIE TOWER]

If the great fair-day had been on when we reached Langholm we should nothave been surprised at being unable to find lodgings, but as it was wecould only attribute our failure to arriving at that town so late in theevening, nearly an hour after the authorised closing time of the inns. We found we could not stay very long in the distillery without a fire, for a sharp frost had now developed, and we began to feel the effect ofthe lower temperature; we therefore decided, after a short rest, tocontinue our walk on the Carlisle road. Turning over the bridge thatcrossed the rapidly running stream of the River Esk--the cause of therush of water we heard in the distillery--we followed the river on itsdownward course for some miles. It was a splendid starlight, frostynight, but, as we were very tired and hungry, we could only proceedslowly--in fact scarcely quickly enough to maintain our circulation. Being also very sleepy, we had to do something desperate to keepourselves awake, so we amused ourselves by knocking with our heavy oakensticks at the doors or window-shutters of the houses we passed on ourway. It was a mild revenge we took for the town's inhospitality, and wepictured to ourselves how the story of two highwaymen being about theroads during the midnight hours would be circulated along thecountryside during the following day, but we could not get any one tocome beyond the keyhole of the door or the panes of the shutteredwindows. We were, however, becoming quite desperate, as we were nownearly famished, and, when we came to a small shop, the sounds from oursticks on the door quickly aroused the mistress, who asked us what wewanted. My brother entered into his usual explanation that we werepedestrian tourists on a walking expedition, and offered her asubstantial sum for some bread or something to eat; but it was of nouse, as the only answer we got was, "I ha' not a bit till th' bakercoomes ith' morn'. "

This reply, and the tone of voice in which it was spoken, for the woman"snaffled, " was too much for us, and, tired as we were, we both roaredwith laughter; absurd though it may seem, it was astonishing how thislittle incident cheered us on our way. 

It was a lovely country through which we were travelling, and our road, as well as the river alongside, was in many places overhung by thefoliage of the fine trees, through which the brilliant lustre of thestars appeared overhead; in fact we heard afterwards that this length ofroad was said to include the finest landscapes along the whole of thestage-coach road between London and Edinburgh. The bridge by which werecrossed the river had been partially built with stones from the ruinsof Gilnockie Tower, once the stronghold of the famous freebooter JohnnieArmstrong, of whom we had heard higher up the country. 

[Illustration: COCKBURN'S GRAVE. ]

Sir Walter Scott tells us that King James V resolved to take veryserious measures against the Border Warriors, and under pretence ofcoming to hunt the deer in those desolate regions he assembled an army, and suddenly appeared at the Castle of Piers Cockburn of Henderland, near where we had been further north. He ordered that baron to be seizedand executed in spite of the fact that he was preparing a great feast ofwelcome. Adam Scott of Tushielaw, known as the King of the Border, metwith the same fate, but an event of greater importance was the fate ofJohn Armstrong. This free-booting chief had risen to such consequence, that the whole neighbouring district of England paid him "black-mail, " asort of regular tribute in consideration of which he forbore to plunderthem. He had a high idea of his own importance, and seems to have beenunconscious of having merited any severe usage at the king's hands. Onthe contrary, he went to meet his sovereign at Carlingrigg Chapel, richly dressed, and having twenty-four gentlemen, his constant retinue, as well attired as himself. The king, incensed to see a freebooter sogentlemanly equipped, commanded him instantly to be led to execution, saying, "What wants this knave save a crown to be as magnificent as aking?" John Armstrong made great offers for his life, offering tomaintain himself, with forty men, to serve the king at a moment'snotice, at his own expense, engaging never to hurt or injure anyScottish subject, as indeed had never been his practice, and undertakingthat there was not a man in England, of whatever degree, duke, earl, lord, or baron, but he would engage, within a short time, to present himto the king, dead or alive. But when the king would listen to none ofhis oilers, the robber chief said very proudly, "I am but a fool to askgrace at a graceless face; but had I guessed you would have used methus, I would have kept the Border-side in spite of the King of Englandand you, both, for I well know that the King Henry would give the weightof my best horse in gold to know that I am sentenced to die this day. "

John Armstrong was led to execution, with all his men, and hangedwithout mercy. The people of the inland countries were glad to get ridof him; but on the Borders he was both missed and mourned, as a bravewarrior, and a stout man-of-arms against England. 

But to return to Gilnockie Bridge! After crossing it we struggled on foranother mile or two, and when about six miles from Langholm we reachedanother bridge where our road again crossed the river. Here we stoppedin mute despair, leaning against the battlements, and listening to thewater in the river as it rushed under the bridge. We must have been halfasleep, when we were suddenly aroused by the sound of heavy footstepsapproaching in the distance. Whoever could it be? I suggested one of theBorder freebooters; but my brother, who could laugh when everybody elsecried, said it sounded more like a free-clogger. We listened again, andsure enough it was the clattering of a heavy pair of clogs on the partlyfrozen surface of the road. We could not be mistaken, for we were toowell accustomed to the sound of clogs in Lancashire; but who could bethe wearer! We had not long to wait before a man appeared, as muchsurprised to see us as we were to see him. We told him of our long walkthe day before, how we had been disappointed in not getting lodgings, and asked him how far we were away from an inn. He told us we were quitenear one, but it was no use going there, as "they wouldn't get up forthe Queen of England. " He further told us he was going to the twoo'clock "shift" at the colliery. "Colliery!" my brother ejaculated; "butsurely there isn't a coal-pit in a pretty place like this?" He assuredus that there was, and, seeing we were both shivering with cold, kindlyinvited us to go with him and he would put us near to a good fire thatwas burning there. "How far is it?" we asked anxiously. "Oh, only abouthalf a mile, " said the collier. So we went with him, and walked whatseemed to be the longest half-mile we ever walked in all our lives, aswe followed him along a fearfully rough road, partly on the tramlines ofthe Canonbie Collieries belonging to the Duke of Buccleuch, where two orthree hundred men were employed. 

We each handed him a silver coin as he landed us in front of a largeopen fire which was blazing furiously near the mouth of the pit, and, bidding us "good morning, " he placed a lighted lamp in front of his capand disappeared down the shaft to the regions below. He was rather lateowing to his having slackened his pace to our own, which was naturallyslower than his, since walking along colliery sidings at night wasdifficult for strangers. We had taken of our boots to warm and ease ourfeet, when a man emerged from the darkness and asked us to put them onagain, saying we should be more comfortable in the engine-house. If westayed there we should be sure to catch a cold, as a result of beingroasted on one side and frozen on the other. He kindly volunteered toaccompany us there, so we thankfully accepted his invitation. We hadsome difficulty in following him owing to the darkness and obstructionsin the way, but we reached the engine-room in safety, round the insideof which was a wooden seat, or bench, and acting upon his instructionswe lay down on this to sleep, with a promise that he would waken us whenhe went off duty at six o'clock in the morning. We found it morecomfortable here than on the windy pit bank, for there was an even andsleepy temperature. We were soon embosomed in the arms of nature's greatrefresher, notwithstanding the occasional working of the windingengines, sleeping as soundly on those wooden benches as ever we did onthe best feather-bed we patronised on our journey. 

(_Distance walked thirty-nine miles_. )

_Thursday, October 12th. _

We were roused at six o'clock a. M. By the engine-driver, who had takengood care of us while we slept, and as we had had nothing to eat sinceour lunch at Hawick the day before, except the fruit purchased from thetoll-keeper there, which we had consumed long before reaching Langholm, we were frightfully hungry. The engine-man told us there was a shopclose by the colliery gate kept by a young man, where, if he happened tobe in, we should be able to get some refreshments. He accompanied us tothe place, and, after knocking loudly at the shop door, we weredelighted to see the head of the shopkeeper appear through the windowabove. He was evidently well known to the engineer, who told him what wewanted, and he promised to "be down directly. "

It seemed a long time to us before the shop door was opened, and everyminute appeared more like five than one; but we were soon comfortablyseated in the shop, in the midst of all sorts of good things fit toeat. We should have liked to begin to eat them immediately, but the firehad to be lit and the kettle boiled, so we assisted with theseoperations while the young man cut into a fresh loaf of bread, brokeopen a pot of plum jam, opened a tin of biscuits, and, with the additionof a large slice of cheese and four fresh eggs, we had a really goodbreakfast, which we thoroughly enjoyed. He said it was a wonder we foundhim there, for it was very seldom he slept at the shop. His mother livedat a farm about a mile and a half away, where he nearly always slept;that night, however, he had been sleeping with his dog, which was to runin a race that day, and he spent the night with it lest it should betampered with. He called the dog downstairs, and, though we knew verylittle about dogs, we could see it was a very fine-looking animal. Ourfriend said he would not take £50 for it, a price we thought exorbitantfor any dog. When we had finished our enormous breakfast, we assistedthe shopkeeper to clear the table, and as it was now his turn, we helpedhim to get his own breakfast ready, waiting upon him as he had waitedupon us, while we conversed chiefly about colliers and dogs and ourapproaching visit to Gretna Green, which, as neither of us was married, was naturally our next great object of interest. 

[Illustration: PENTON BRIDGE, CANONBIE. ]

After our long walk the previous day, with very little sleep at the endof it, and the heavy breakfast we had just eaten, we felt uncommonlylazy and disinclined to walk very far that day. So, after wishing ourfriend good luck at the races, we bade him good-bye, and idly retracedour steps along the colliery road until we reached the bridge where wehad met the collier so early in the morning. We had now time to admirethe scenery, and regretted having passed through that beautiful part ofthe country during our weary tramp in the dark, and that we had missedso much of it, including the Border Towers on the River Esk. 

Riddel Water, with its fine scenery, was on our left as we came from thecolliery, where it formed the boundary between Scotland and England, emptying itself into the River Esk about two miles from Canonbie Bridge, which we now crossed, and soon arrived at the "Cross Keys Inn, " of whichwe had heard but failed to reach the previous night. The landlord of theinn, who was standing at the door, was formerly the driver of the RoyalMail Stagecoach "Engineer" which ran daily between Hawick and Carlisleon the Edinburgh to London main road. A good-looking and healthy man ofover fifty years of age, his real name was Elder, but he was popularlyknown as Mr. Sandy or Sandy Elder. The coach, the last stage-coach thatever ran on that road, was drawn in ordinary weather by three horses, which were changed every seven or eight miles, the "Cross Keys" atCanonbie being one of the stopping-places. 

[Illustration: "CROSS KEYS INN. "]

Mr. Elder had many tales to tell of stage-coach days; one adventure, however, seemed more prominent in his thoughts than the others. Ithappened many years ago, when on one cold day the passengers had, withthe solitary exception of one woman, who was sitting on the back seat ofthe coach, gone into the "Cross Keys Inn" for refreshments while thehorses were being changed. The fresh set of horses had been put in, andthe stablemen had gone to the hotel to say all was ready, when, withouta minute's warning, the fresh horses started off at full gallop alongthe turnpike road towards Carlisle. Great was the consternation at theinn, and Sandy immediately saddled a horse and rode after them at fullspeed. Meantime the woman, who Mr. Sandy said must have been as brave awoman as ever lived, crawled over the luggage on the top of the coachand on to the footboard in front. Kneeling down while holding on withone hand, she stretched the other to the horses' backs and secured thereins, which had slipped down and were urging the horses forward. Bythis time the runaway horses had nearly covered the two miles betweenthe inn and the tollgates, which were standing open, as the mail coachwas expected, whose progress nothing must delay. Fortunately the keeperof the first gate was on the look-out, and he was horrified when he sawthe horses coming at their usual great speed without Sandy the driver;he immediately closed the gate, and, with the aid of the brave woman, who had recovered the reins, the horses were brought to a dead stop atthe gate, Mr. Sandy arriving a few minutes afterwards. The last run ofthis coach was in 1862, about nine years before our visit, and there wasrather a pathetic scene on that occasion. We afterwards obtained fromone of Mr. Elder's ten children a cutting from an old newspaper she hadcarefully preserved, a copy of which is as follows:

 Mr. Elder, the Landlord of the "Cross Keys Hotel, " was the last of the Border Royal Mail Coach Drivers and was familiarly known as "Sandy, " and for ten years was known as the driver of the coach between Hawick and Carlisle. When the railway started and gave the death-blow to his calling, he left the seat of the stage coach, and invested his savings in the cosy hostelry of the road-side type immortalised by Scott in his "Young Lochinvar. " He told of the time when he did duty on the stage coach for Dukes, Earls, and Lords, and aided run-a-way couples to reach the "blacksmith" at Gretna Green. He told of the days when he manipulated the ribbons from the box of the famous coach "Engineer" when he dashed along with foaming horses as if the fate of a nation depended upon his reaching his stage at a given time. He could remember Mosspaul Inn at the zenith of its fame under the reigning sovereign Mr. Gownlock--whose tact and management made his Hotel famous. He had frequently to carry large sums of money from the Border banks and although these were the days of footpads and highwaymen, and coaches were "held up" in other parts, Sandy's Coach was never molested, although he had been blocked with his four-in-hand in the snow. He gave a graphic description of the running of the last mail coach from Hawick to Merrie Carlisle in 1862. Willie Crozier the noted driver was mounted on the box, and the horses were all decked out for the occasion. Jemmie Ferguson the old strapper, whose occupation like that of Othello's was all gone, saw it start with a heavy heart, and crowds turned out to bid it good-bye. When the valleys rang with the cheery notes of the well-blown horn, and the rumbling sound of the wheels and the clattering hoofs of the horses echoed along the way, rich and poor everywhere came to view the end of a system which had so long kept them in touch with civilisation. The "Engineer" guards and drivers with scarlet coats, white hats, and overflowing boots, and all the coaching paraphernalia so minutely described by Dickens, then passed away, and the solitary remnant of these good old times was "Sandy" Elder the old Landlord of the "Cross Keys" on Canonbie Lea. 

Soon after leaving the "Cross Keys" we came to a wood where we saw a"Warning to Trespassers" headed "Dangerous, " followed by the words"Beware of fox-traps and spears in these plantations. " This, wesupposed, was intended for the colliers, for in some districts they werenoted as expert poachers. Soon afterwards we reached what was called theScotch Dyke, the name given to a mound of earth, or "dyke, " as it wascalled locally, some four miles long and erected in the year 1552between the rivers Esk and Sark to mark the boundary between England andScotland. We expected to find a range of hills or some substantialmonument or noble ruin to mark the boundary between the two countries, and were rather disappointed to find only an ordinary dry dyke and aplantation, while a solitary milestone informed us that it waseighty-one and a half miles to Edinburgh. We were now between the twotollbars, one in Scotland and the other in England, with a space ofonly about fifty yards between them, and as we crossed the centre wegave three tremendous cheers which brought out the whole population ofthe two tollhouses to see what was the matter. We felt very silly, andwondered why we had done so, since we had spent five weeks in Scotlandand had nothing but praise both for the inhabitants and the scenery. Itwas exactly 9. 50 a. M. When we crossed the boundary, and my brother onreflection recovered his self-respect and said he was sure we could havegot absolution from Sir Walter Scott for making all that noise, for hadhe not written:

 Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd. 

[Illustration: NETHERBY HALL. ]

As the morning was beautifully fine, we soon forsook the highway andwalked along the grassy banks of the Esk, a charming river whose watersappeared at this point as if they were running up hill. We were veryidle, and stayed to wash our feet in its crystal waters, dressing themwith common soap, which we had always found very beneficial as a salve. We sauntered past Kirkandrew's Tower; across the river was the mansionof Netherby, the home of the Graham family, with its beautifulsurroundings, immortalised by Sir Walter Scott in his "Young Lochinvar, "who came out of the West, and--

 One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he spran! "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow, " quoth young Lochinvar. 

 There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran: There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

We were far more inclined to think and talk than to walk, and as we saton the peaceful banks of the river we thought what a blessing it wasthat those Border wars were banished for ever, for they appeared tohave been practically continuous from the time of the Romans down to theend of the sixteenth century, when the two countries were united underone king, and we thought of that verse so often quoted:

 The Nations in the present day Preserve the good old plan, That all shall take who have the power And all shall keep who can. 

We were not far from the narrowest point of the kingdom from east towest, or from one sea to the other, where the Roman Emperor, Hadrian, built his boundary wall; but since that time, if we may credit the wordsof another poet who described the warriors and their origin, othernationalities have waged war on the Borders--

 From the worst scoundrel race that ever lived A horrid crowd of rambling thieves and drones, Who ransacked Kingdoms and dispeopled towns, The Pict, the painted Briton, treacherous Scot By hunger, theft, and rapine, hither brought Norwegian Pirates--buccaneering Danes, Whose red-haired offspring everywhere remains; Who, joined with Norman French, compound the breed, From whence you time-born Bordermen proceed. 

How long we should have loitered on the bank of the river if the pangsof hunger had not again made themselves felt we could not say, but weresolved at last to walk to Longtown for some refreshments, and arrivedthere by noon, determined to make amends for our shortcomings afterlunch, for, incredible though it seemed, we had only walked six miles!But we landed in a little cosy temperance house, one of those placeswhere comfort prevailed to a much greater extent than in many morebrilliant establishments. It was kept by one Forster, a gentleman ofdistinction, possessing a remarkable temperament and following numerousavocations. He informed us he was the parish clerk, and that the LordBishop was holding a Confirmation Service in the church at 3 p. M. We hadintended only to stay for lunch and then resume our journey, but themention of a much less important person than the Lord Bishop would havemade us stay until tea-time, and travel on afterwards, so we decided toremain for the service. Punctually at three o'clock, escorted by the sonof our landlord, we entered the Arthuret Church, the Parish Church ofLongtown, about half a mile away from the town. It was built in 1609 anddedicated to St. Michael, but had recently been restored and a handsomestained-glass window placed at the east end in memory of the late SirJames Graham, whose burial-place we observed marked by a plain stoneslab as we entered the churchyard. In consequence of a domesticbereavement the organist was absent, and as he had forgotten to leavethe key the harmonium was useless. Our friend the parish clerk, however, was quite equal to the occasion, for as the Psalm commencing "Allpeople that on earth do dwell" was given out, he stepped out into theaisle and led off with the good old tune the "Old Hundredth, " soadmirably adapted for congregational use, and afterwards followed withthe hymn beginning "Before Jehovah's awful throne, " completing thechoral part of the service to the tune of "Duke Street"; we oftenwondered where that street was, and who the duke was that it was namedafter. Our admiration of the parish clerk increased when we found hecould start the singing of Psalms and on the correct note in thepresence of a Lord Bishop, and we contemplated what might have been theresult had he started the singing in a higher or a lower key. Werejoiced that the responsibility rested upon him and not on ourselves. The Candidates for Confirmation were now requested to stand while theremainder of the congregation remained seated. The Bishop, Dr. Goodwin, delivered a homely, solemn, and impressive address. His lordship did nottake any text, but spoke extempore, and we were well pleased with hisaddress, so appropriate was it to the occasion; the language was easyand suited to the capacities of those for whom the service was speciallyheld. As sympathisers with the temperance movement we thoroughlycoincided with the Bishop's observations when he affectionately warnedhis hearers against evil habits, amongst which he catalogued that ofindulgence in intoxicating drinks, and warned the young men not tofrequent public-houses, however much they might be ridiculed or thoughtmean for not doing so. The candidates came from three parishes, thegirls dressed very plainly and as usual outnumbering the boys. Thegeneral congregation was numerically small, and we were surprised thatthere was no collection! Service over, we returned to our lodgings fortea, intending to resume our walk immediately afterwards. We were socomfortable, however, and the experiences of the previous day and nightso fresh in our minds, and bodies, that we decided to rest our stillweary limbs here for the night, even though we had that day only walkedsix miles, the shortest walk in all our journey. 

[Illustration: KIRKANDREWS CHURCH. ]

Our host, Mr. Forster, was moreover a very entertaining and remarkableman. He had been parish clerk for many years, a Freemason for upwards ofthirty years, letter-carrier or postman for fourteen years, and recentlyhe and his wife had joined the Good Templars! He had many interestingstories of the runaway marriages at Gretna Green, a piece of Borderlandneither in Scotland nor England, and he claimed to have suggested theAct of Parliament brought in by Lord Brougham to abolish these so-called"Scotch" marriages by a clause which required twenty-one days' residencebefore the marriage could be solemnised, so that although the Act wascalled Lord Brougham's Act, he said it was really his. Its effects wereclearly demonstrated in a letter he had written, which appeared in theRegistrar-General's Report, of which he showed us a copy, stating thatwhile in the year 1856, the year of the passing of Lord Brougham's Act, there were 757 marriages celebrated in the district of Gretna Green, thirty-nine entered as taking place in one day, November 8th, in thefollowing year there were only thirty and in the next forty-one, showingconclusively that the Act had been effectual. We could have listenedlonger to our host's stories, but we had to rise early next morning tomake up for our loss of mileage, and retired early to make up for ourloss of sleep on the previous night. 

(_Distance walked six miles_. )

_Friday, October 13th. _

We left Longtown at 7. 30 a. M. By the long and wide thoroughfare whichgives rise to its name, and followed the Carlisle road until we turnedto the right for Gretna Green. Our road lay between Solway Moss and theRiver Esk, to both of which some historic events were attached. SolwayMoss is about seven miles in circumference, and is covered with grassand rushes, but it shakes under the least pressure, and will swallow upnearly anything. In 1776, after heavy rains, it burst, and, as inIreland, streams of black peaty mud began to creep over the plain and tooverwhelm the houses. It was the scene of a battle fought on November24th, 1542, when the English Army under Sir Thomas Wharton defeated aScottish Army of 10, 000 men, who were either killed, drowned, or takenprisoners. One of the unfortunates was unearthed in later times bypeat-diggers, a man on his horse, who had sunk in the bog. The skeletonswere well preserved, and the different parts of the armour easilyrecognisable. The disastrous result of this battle so affected James V, King of Scotland, that he is said to have died of a broken heart. Personally, we thought he deserved a greater punishment for the murderof Johnnie Armstrong and his followers twelve years before this event, for Armstrong was just the man who could and would have protected theBorders. 

The River Esk was associated with Prince Charlie, who, with hissoldiers, had to cross it when retreating before the army of the Duke ofCumberland. It was a difficult operation to carry out, as the usuallyshallow ford had been converted by the melting snow into a swift-flowingcurrent four feet deep. The cavalry were drawn up in two lines acrossthe stream, one to break the current and the other to prevent any of thefoot-soldiers being washed away as they crossed the river between thetwo lines of cavalry. Lower down the river still were Prince Charlie andhis officers, who were better mounted than the others. The foot-soldierswalked arm-in-arm, with their heads barely above the water, making thespace between the cavalry lines to look as if it were set withpaving-stones. One poor soldier lost his hold on his comrade and waswashed down the river, and would certainly have been drowned had not thePrince seized him by the hair, and, shouting in Gaelic for help, held onuntil both of them were rescued. After being hunted in the Highlandglens for months with a ransom of £30, 000 placed on his head--not a Celtbetraying his whereabouts--by the help of Flora Macdonald Prince Charlieescaped to Brittany, and finally died at Rome in the arms of the Masterof Nairn in 1788. In 1794 the Beds of Esk, a large sandbank where thetide meets the stream, presented an unusual spectacle, and a strikingtribute to the dangerous character of the river especially when inflood. Collected together on the beach were a varied assortment ofanimals and human beings, consisting of no less than 9 black cattle, 3horses, 1, 040 sheep, 45 dogs, 180 hares, many smaller animals, and 3human beings, all of whom had been cut off by the rapidly advancingtide. 

Many other events have happened in this neighbourhood, one of the mostsensational perhaps being the death of King Edward I, "The Hammer of theScots, " also nicknamed "Longshanks, " from the length of his lower limbs, who died in 1307 on these marshes, requesting his effeminate son, thePrince of Wales, as he bade him farewell, not to bury his body until theScots were utterly subdued, but this wish was prevented by the defeat atthe Battle of Bannockburn. 

We passed by some large peat-fields, and, crossing the River Sark, wereonce more in Scotland, notwithstanding the fact that we had so recentlygiven three cheers as we passed out of it. We traversed the length ofSpringfield, a stone-built village of whitewashed, one-storied cottages, in which we could see handloom weavers at work, nearly fifty of thembeing employed in that industry. Formerly, we were told, the villagerscarried on an illicit commerce in whisky and salt, on which there wereheavy duties in England, but none on whisky in Scotland. The positionhere being so close to the borders, it was a very favourable one forsmuggling both these articles into England, and we heard variousexciting stories of the means they devised for eluding the vigilance ofthe excise officers. As we passed through the neighbourhood at a quickrate, the villagers turned out to have a look at us, evidently thinkingsomething important was going on. 

We saw many workers in the fields, who called out to us hinting aboutthe nature of our journey, as we travelled towards Gretna Green. Some ofthe women went so far as to ask us if we wanted any company. The mostconspicuous objects in the village were the church and the remarkablyhigh gravestones standing like sentinels in the churchyard. BonniePrince Charlie arrived here on the afternoon of his birthday in 1745, stabling his horse in the church, while the vicar fled from what hedescribed in the church book as "the Rebels. " A small cottage--said tobe the oldest in Gretna--is shown in which Prince Charlie slept. Thevillage green appeared to us as if it had been fenced in and made intoa garden, and a lady pointed out an ancient-looking building, which shesaid was the hall where the original "Blacksmith" who married therunaway couples resided, but which was now occupied by a gentleman fromEdinburgh. She explained the ceremony as being a very simple one, andperformed expeditiously: often in the road, almost in sight of thepursuers of the runaway pair. All sorts and conditions of men and womenwere united there, some of them from far-off lands, black people amongstthe rest, and she added with a sigh, "There's been many an unhappy jobhere, " which we quite believed. There were other people beside thegentleman at the hall who made great profit by marrying people, both atSpringfield and Gretna, and a list of operators, dated from the year1720, included a soldier, shoemaker, weaver, poacher, innkeeper, toll-keeper, fisherman, pedlar, and other tradesmen. But the onlyblacksmith who acted in that capacity was a man named Joe Paisley, whodied in 1811 aged seventy-nine years. His motto was, "Strike while theiron's hot, " and he boasted that he could weld the parties together asfirmly as he could one piece of iron to another. 

[Illustration: JOSEPH PAISLEY, The Celebrated Gretna-Green Parson Dec'dJanuary 9, 1811, aged 79. The first great "priest" of Gretna Green. ]

Joe was a man of prodigious strength; he could bend a strong iron pokerover his arm, and had frequently straightened an ordinary horse-shoe inits cold state with his hands. He could also squeeze the blood from thefinger ends of any one who incurred his anger. He was an habitualdrunkard, his greatest boast being that he had once been "teetotal" fora whole forenoon. When he died he was an overgrown mass of superfluousfat, weighing at least twenty-five stone. He was said to have earnedquite a thousand pounds per year by his encroachments into the provinceof the cleric, and when on his deathbed he heard three carriages arrive, he consented to marry the three wealthy couples they contained, andfound himself two or three hundred pounds richer than before. He alsoboasted that the marriage business had been in his family for quite onehundred years, and that his uncle, the old soldier Gordon, used to marrycouples in the full uniform of his regiment, the British Grenadiers. Hegave a form of certificate that the persons had declared themselves tobe single, that they were married by the form of the Kirk of Scotland, and agreeably to that of the Church of England. 

[Illustration: GRETNA GREEN. ]

One of the most celebrated elopements to Gretna was that of the Earl ofWestmorland and Miss Child, the daughter of the great London banker. Theearl had asked for the hand of Sarah, and had been refused, the bankerremarking, "Your blood is good enough, but my money is better, " so thetwo young people made it up to elope and get married at Gretna Green. The earl made arrangements beforehand at the different stages where theyhad to change horses, but the banker, finding that his daughter hadgone, pursued them in hot haste. All went well with the runaway coupleuntil they arrived at Shap, in Westmorland, where they became aware theywere being pursued. Here the earl hired all the available horses, so asto delay the irate banker's progress. The banker's "money was good, "however, and the runaways were overtaken between Penrith and Carlisle. Hero the earl's "blood was good, " for, taking deliberate aim at thelittle star of white on the forehead of the banker's leading horse, hefired successfully, and so delayed the pursuit that the fugitivesarrived at Gretna first; and when the bride's father drove up, purplewith rage and almost choking from sheer exasperation, he found themsafely locked in what was called the bridal chamber! The affair createda great sensation in London, where the parties were well known, heavybets being made as to which party would win the race. At the close ofthe market it stood at two to one on the earl and the girl. 

In those days "postboys" were employed to drive the runaways from thehotels at Carlisle to Gretna, one of the most noted of whom was JockAinslie, on the staff of the "Bush Inn" at Carlisle. On one occasion hewas commissioned to drive a runaway couple, who had just arrived by thecoach from London, to Gretna, but when they got as far as Longtown theyinsisted they were tired and must stay for dinner before going forward, so they sent Jock back. He returned to Carlisle rather reluctantly, advising the runaways to lose no time. But when he got back to the "BushInn" he saw the mother of the lady whom he had left at Longtown drive upto the hotel door accompanied by a Bow Street officer. While they werechanging horses, Jock went to the stable, saddled a horse, rode off toLongtown, and told his patrons what he had seen. They immediatelyhurried into a chaise, but had not gone far before they heard thecarriage wheels of their pursuers. Jock Ainslie was quite equal to theoccasion, and drove the chaise behind a thick bush, whence the pair hadthe satisfaction of seeing "Mamma" hurry past at full speed in pursuit. While she was continuing her search on the Annan Road, Jock quietlydrove into Springfield and had his patrons "hitched up" without furtherdelay, and doubtless was well rewarded for his services. 

[Illustration: WILLIE LANG The last of the "Lang" line of priests. ]

It seemed a strange thing that Lord Brougham, who brought in the famousAct, should himself have taken advantage of a "Scotch" marriage, andthat two other Lord Chancellors, both celebrated men, should have actedin the same manner; Lord Eldon, the originator of the proverb--

 New brooms sweep clean, was married at Gretna, and Lord Erskine at Springfield. Marriage in thispart of Scotland had not the same religious significance as elsewhere, being looked upon as more in the nature of a civil contract than areligious ceremony. The form of marriage was almost entirely a secularmatter, and if a man and woman made a declaration before two witnessesthat they were single persons and had resided twenty-one days inScotland, they were considered as being man and wife. At the point wherethe Black Esk and White Esk Rivers join, a remarkable custom called"Handfasting" prevailed hundreds of years ago. Here, at a place knownas Handfasting Hough, young men and women assembled in great numbers andmade matrimonial engagements by joining hands. The marriage was onlybinding for one year, but if both parties were then satisfied, the"handfasting" was continued for life. King Robert II of Scotland, it wassaid, was one of those who was "hand-fasted" there. 

[Illustration: (Facsimile of Lord Erskine's signature. )]

[Illustration: SPRINGFIELD TOLL. ]

We now left Gretna, still single, for Carlisle, nine and a half milesaway, the distance to Glasgow in the opposite direction beingeighty-five miles. We recrossed the River Sark, the boundary herebetween Scotland and England, the famous tollbar through which elopingcouples had to hurry before they could reach Gretna Green. In those daysgangs of men were ever on the watch to levy blackmail both on thepursued and their pursuers, and the heaviest purse generally won whenthe race was a close one. We saw a new hotel on the English side of theriver which had been built by a Mr. Murray specially for theaccommodation of the runaways while the "Blacksmith" was sent for tojoin them together on the other side of the boundary, but it had onlyjust been finished when Lord Brougham's Act rendered it practicallyuseless, and made it a bad speculation for Mr. Murray. Passing throughthe tollgate we overtook a man with half a dozen fine greyhounds, inwhich, after our conversation with the owner of the racing dog atCanonbie Collieries, we had become quite interested; and we listened tohis description of each as if we were the most ardent dog-fanciers onthe road. One of the dogs had taken a first prize at Lytham and anothera second at Stranraer. We passed through a country where there wereimmense beds of peat, hurrying through Todhilis without even calling atthe "Highland Laddie" or the "Jovial Butcher" at Kingstown, and wecrossed the River Eden as we entered the Border city of Carlisle, sometimes called "Merrie Carlisle, " or, as the Romans had it, Lugovalum. 

An elderly gentleman whom we overtook, and of whom we inquiredconcerning the objects of interest to be seen, appeared to take moreinterest in business matters than in those of an antiquarian nature, forhe told us that "Carr's Biscuit Manufactory" with its machinery was afar finer sight than either the cathedral or the castle. Perhaps he wasright, but our thoughts were more in the direction of bygone ages, withthe exception of the letters that were waiting for us at the postoffice, and for which we did not forget to call. Merrie Carlisle, wewere informed, was the chief residence of King Arthur, whose supposedghostly abode and that of his famous knights, or one of them, we hadpassed earlier in the week. We were now told that near Penrith, a townto the south of Carlisle, there was still to be seen a large circlesurrounded by a mound of earth called "Arthur's Round Table, " and thatin the churchyard were the giants' graves. 

In the very old ballad on the "Lothely Lady" King Arthur was describedas returning after a long journey to his Queen Guenevere, in a very sadmood:

 And there came to him his cozen, Sir Gawain, Y' was a courteous Knight; Why sigh you soe sore, Unkle Arthur, he said, Or who hath done thee unright?

Arthur told him he had been taken prisoner by a fierce, gigantic chief, who had only released him and spared his life on condition that he wouldreturn and pay his ransom on New Year's Day, the ransom being that hemust tell the giant "that which all women most desire. " When the morningof the day arrived, Arthur was in great despair, for nearly all thewomen he had asked had given him different answers, but he was in honourbound to give himself up; and as he rode over the moors he saw a ladydressed in scarlet, sitting between an oak and a green holly. Glancingat her, Arthur saw the most hideous woman he had ever seen. 

 Then there as shold have stood her mouth, Then there was sett her e'e, The other was in her forhead fast, The way that she might see. Her nose was crooked, and turned outward, Her mouth stood foul awry; A worse formed lady than she was, Never man saw with his eye. 

King Arthur rode on and pretended not to see her, but she called himback and said she could help him with his ransom. The King answered, "Ifyou can release me from my bond, lady, I shall be grateful, and youshall marry my nephew Gawain, with a gold ring. " Then the lothely ladytold Arthur that the thing all women desired was "to have their ownway. " The answer proved to be correct, and Arthur was released; but the"gentle Gawain" was now bound by his uncle's promise, and the "lothelylady" came to Carlisle and was wedded in the church to Gawain. Whenthey were alone after the ceremony she told him she could be ugly by dayand lovely by night, or _vice versa_, as he pleased, and for her sake, as she had to appear amongst all the fine ladies at the Court, he beggedher to appear lovely by day. Then she begged him to kiss her, which witha shudder he did, and immediately the spell cast over her by awitch-step mother was broken, and Gawain beheld a young and lovelymaiden. She was presented to Arthur and Guenevere, and was no longer a"lothely" lady. Then the ballad goes on:

 King Arthur beheld the lady faire, That was soe faire and bright; He thanked Christ in Trinity, For Sir Gawain, that gentle Knight. 

King Arthur's table was supposed to have been made round for the samereason that John o' Groat's was made octagonal--to avoid jealousyamongst his followers. 

[Illustration: CARLISLE CATHEDRAL. ]

We visited the cathedral, which had suffered much in the wars, but inthe fine east window some very old stained glass remained, while partsof the building exhibit the massive columns and circular arches typicalof the Norman architect. Here, in the presence of King Edward I and hisParliament, Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland, was excommunicated bythe Papal Legate for the murder of the Red Comyn in the Church of theMinorite Friars in Dumfries. Here, too, Sir Walter Scott was married toCharlotte Carpenter in the presence of Jane Nicholson and John Bird onDecember 29th, 1797. Sir Walter was touring in the Lake District in Julyof that year, and while staying at Gilsland Wells he first saw afascinating and elegant young lady, the daughter of Jean Charpentier ofLyons, then under the charge of the Rev. John Bird, a Minor Canon ofCarlisle Cathedral. She was described, possibly by Sir Walter himself, as being rich in personal attractions, with a form fashioned as light asa fairy's, a complexion of the clearest and finest Italian brown, and aprofusion of silken tresses as black as the raven's wing. A humoroussavant wrote the following critique on this description of the beauty ofSir Walter's fiancée:

 It is just possible the rascal had been reading some of the old Welsh stories collected in the twelfth century and known as the Mabinogion stories. In one Oliven is described so--

 "More yellow was her head than the yellow of the broom, and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and fairer were her hands and her fingers than the blossoms of the wood anemone amidst the sprays of the meadow fountain. The eye of the trained hawk, the glance of the three-mewed falcon was not brighter than hers. Her bosom was more snowed than the heart of the white swan; her cheek was redder than the reddest roses. "

[Illustration: THE "POPPING STONE, " GILSLAND. ]

Or again, both of the love-stricken swains may have dipped, into the_Arabian Nights_, where imagination and picture painting runs riot. 

There was no doubt that Scott fell deeply in love with her, so much sothat a friend whom he visited in 1797 wrote that "Scott was 'sair'beside himself about Miss Carpenter and that they toasted her twentytimes over and raved about her until one o'clock in the morning. " SirWalter seemed to have acted in his courtship on the old north-countryadage, "Happy is the wooing that is not long a-doing, " for he wasmarried to her three months afterwards. The whole details are carefullypreserved in local tradition. The River Irthing runs through Gilsland, and at the foot of the cliffs, which rise go feet above the river, werethe Sulphur Wells. Near these, on the bank of the river, was a largestone named the "Popping Stone, " where it was said that Sir Walter Scott"popped the question, " and all who can get a piece of this stone, which, by the way, is of a very hard nature, and place it under the pillow atnight, will dream of their future partners. The hotel people tell a goodstory of a gentleman, an entire stranger to the district, who went incompany with a lady who knew the neighbourhood to see the famous stone. After walking for some distance they were passing a stone, when thegentleman asked, "Is this the popping stone?" "No, " answered his faircompanion, "but any large stone will do. "

Near the stone there was a bush called the "Kissing Bush, " where SirWalter was said to have sealed the sweet compact when the temperaturewas only "two in the shade. "

 Oh happy love! where Love like this is found! Oh heartfelt raptures! Bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary mortal round, If Heaven a draught of Heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful loving modest pair In other's arms breathe out the tender tale Beneath the "Kissing Bush" that scents the evening gale. 

[Illustration: CARLISLE CASTLE]

John Wesley visited Carlisle and preached there on several occasions. Rabbie Burns, too, after the publication of the first edition of hispoems, visited it in 1786, patronising the "Malt Shovel Inn, " where, ashe wrote, "he made a night of it. "

We paid a hurried visit to the castle on the summit of a sharp aclivityoverlooking the River Eden, in whose dungeons many brave men have beenincarcerated, where we saw a dripping-or dropping-stone worn smooth, itwas said, by the tongues of thirsty prisoners to whom water was denied. The dropping was incessant, and we were told a story which seems therefinement of cruelty, in which the water was allowed to drop on aprisoner's head until it killed him. From the castle mound we could seethe country for a long distance, and there must have been a good view ofthe Roman wall in ancient times, as the little church of Stanwix we hadpassed before crossing the River Eden was built on the site of a Romanstation on Hadrian's Wall, which there crossed the river on low arches. The wall was intended to form the boundary between England and Scotland, and extended for seventy miles, from Bowness-on-the-Solway toWallsend-on-the-Tyne, thus crossing the kingdom at its narrowest part. 

We left Carlisle at a speed of four miles per hour, and within the hourwe had our first near view of the Cumberland Hills, Scawfell being themost conspicuous. We decided to go to Maryport, however, as we heardthat a great number of Roman altars had recently been discovered there. We were now once more in England, with its old-fashioned villages, andat eleven miles from Carlisle we reached Wigton, whose streets andfootpaths were paved with boulders and cobble-stones; here we stayed forrefreshments. A further eight-miles' walk, some portion of it in thedark, brought us to Aspatria, but in the interval we had passed BraytonHall, the residence of Sir Wilfrid Lawson, Bart. , M. P. , the leader ofthe Legislative Temperance Movement for the abolition of the LiquorTraffic, and who, at a later date, was said to be the wittiest member ofthe House of Commons. As Chairman of the United Kingdom Alliance, thatheld its annual gatherings in the great Free Trade Hall in Manchester, abuilding capable of seating 5, 000 persons, so great was his popularitythat the immense building, including the large platform, was packed withpeople long before the proceedings were timed to begin, there being leftonly sufficient space for the chairman and the speakers. The intervalbefore the arrival of these gentlemen was whiled away by the audience insinging well-known hymns and songs, and on one occasion, when Sankey andMoody's hymns had become popular, just as the people were singingvociferously the second line of the verse--

 See the mighty host advancing, Satan leading on!

[Illustration: CARLISLE CASTLE]

Sir Wilfrid appeared on the platform followed by the speakers. His readywit seized the humour of the situation, and it is said that he was sodeeply affected by this amusing incident that it took him a whole weekto recover! As a speaker he never failed to secure the attention andrespect of his audience, and even of those in it who did not altogetheragree with his principles. As an advocate of the total suppression ofthe Liquor Traffic, on every occasion his peroration was listened towith almost breathless attention, and concluded in an earnest andimpressive manner which left a never-to-be-forgotten impression uponthose who heard it, the almost magic spell by which he had held the vastaudience being suddenly broken, as if by an electric shock, intothunders of applause when he recited his favourite verse. We can hearhis voice still repeating the lines:

 Slowly moves the march of ages, Slowly grows the forest king, Slowly to perfection cometh Every great and glorious thing!

It was 8 p. M. As we entered Aspatria, where we found lodgings for thenight at Isaac Tomlinson's. We expected Aspatria, from its name, to havehad some connection with the Romans, but it appeared to have been socalled after Aspatrick, or Gospatrick, the first Lord of Allerdale, andthe church was dedicated to St. Kentigern. The Beacon Hill near the townwas explored in 1799, and a vault discovered containing the skeleton ofa gigantic warrior seven feet long, who had been buried with his sword, dagger, gold bracelet, horse's bit, and other accoutrements dating fromthe sixth century. 

We had passed a small village near our road named Bromfield, which wassaid to possess strong claims to have been the site of the Battle ofBrunanburch, fought in the year 937, when Anlaf, King of Dublin, formeda huge confederacy with the King of the Scots, the King of Strathclyde, and Owen, King of Cumbria, against Athelstan, King of England, by whom, however, they were signally defeated; but we afterwards came to a placea long way further south which also claimed to have been the site ofthat famous battle. 

According to the following record, however, our native county of Chesterappeared to have the strongest claim to that distinction:

 It is not actually certain where the Battle of Brunanburch was fought, but it is by all historians said to have taken place in the Wirral Peninsula about the site where Bromborough is now situated. The Battle took place in 937 A. D. , and it was here that Athelstan defeated the united forces of Scotland, Cumberland, and the British and Danish Chiefs, which is recorded in the Saxon Chronicle in a great war song. The name given in the Chronicle is Brunesburgh, but at the time of the Conquest it was called Brunburgh. 

 The fleet set sail from Dublin under the command of the Danish King Anlaf or Olaf to invade England. He had as his father-in-law, Constantine, King of the Scots, and many Welsh Chieftains supported him. They made good their landing but were completely routed by King Athelstan, Grandson of Alfred, as stated above. 

It is more than probable that Anlaf sailing from Dublin would come overto England by the usual route to the havens opposite, near the greatroadstead of the Dee estuary. 

One must not forget that the sea has made great ravages upon this coast, destroying much ground between Wallasey and West Kirby, thoughcompensating for it in some measure by depositing the material in theestuary itself in the shape of banks of mud and sand. Nor must oneoverlook the existence of the old forest of Wirral, which stretched, asthe old saying ran--

 From Blacon Point to Hilbre Squirrels in search of food Might then jump straight from tree to tree. So thick the forest stood!

Chester was held by the king, for the warlike daughter of Alfred, Ethelfleda, had rebuilt it as a fort after it had been lying in wastefor generations, and had established another at Runcofan, or Runcorn. Itwas natural, therefore, for Anlaf to avoid the waters protected byAthelstan's fleet and seek a landing perhaps at the old Romanlanding-place of Dove Point, near Hoylake, or in the inlet now carvedinto the Timber Float at Birkenhead. Norse pirates had made a settlementhere beforehand, as the place names, Kirby, Calby, Greasby, andThorstaston, seem to indicate. 

Bromborough would be just the spot for a strategist like Athelstan tomeet the invader, trying to force a way between the forest and themarshes about Port Sunlight. This old port at Dove Point has been washedaway, though many wonderful relics of Roman and earlier times have beenfound there, and are safely housed in the Chester Museum. Once again itwas used for the embarking of the army under William III, when he sailedfor Ireland to meet the late king, James II, in battle. 

When Chester began to lose its trade through the silting up of itsharbour, about the reigns of the Lancastrian kings, it became necessaryto sail from lower down the estuary, Parkgate being in the best positionand possessing a quay, while Dawpool was also frequently used. But agood port was necessary, because Ireland was frequently in rebellion, and troops were usually passed over the channel from this region. 

Parkgate was most prosperous in the eighteenth century, but theconstruction of the great Irish road through Llangollen to Holyhead, andof a good coach road from Warrington to Liverpool, and the laterdevelopment of railways caused its decline, until in our time it wasonly known for its shrimps and as the headquarters of a small coastfleet of fishing-boats. 

It was to Dawport, or Darport, that Dean Swift usually sailed fromDublin at the beginning of the eighteenth century for his frequentvisits to his brother wits, Addison and Steele. It was strange how manycommon sayings of to-day were his in origin such as, "There is none soblind as they that won't see, " and, "A penny for your thoughts. " Likemany witty people, he must needs have his little joke. He was made Deanof St. Patrick's, Dublin, in 1713, and was accustomed to preach thereeach Sunday afternoon, and was said to have preached on the same subjecton sixteen consecutive occasions. On making his seventeenth appearancehe asked the congregation if they knew what he was going to preachabout. Most of them answered "Yes, " while others replied "No. " "Some ofyou say Yes, " said the Dean, "and some of you say No. Those who know, tell those who don't know, " and he immediately pronounced thebenediction and left the pulpit!

At Chester he was accustomed to stay at the "Yacht Inn" in WatergateStreet, the old street of Roman origin, which led westwards to the riverbeneath the River Gate. A dean is a dean, and his dignity must bepreserved in a Cathedral city. Of a Dean of Chester of the earlynineteenth century it is recounted that he would never go to service atthe Cathedral except in stately dignity, within his stage coach withpostillions and outriders, and would never even take his wife with himinside. Dean Swift probably announced his arrival to his brother ofChester as one king announces his approach to another king. But thestory goes that a great cathedral function was on and no one came towelcome the great man. Perhaps there was a little excuse, for mostlikely they had suffered from his tongue. But, however much they mighthave suffered, they would have hurried to see him had they foreseen hisrevenge. And perhaps a poor dinner had contributed to the acidity of hismind when he scratched on one of the windows the following verse:

 Rotten without and mouldering within. This place and its clergy are all near akin!

It is a far cry from the battle of Brunanburch to Dean Swift, but thethought of Anlaf took us back to Ireland, and Ireland and Chester wereclosely connected in trade for many centuries. 

So it was with thoughts of our homeland that we retired for the nightafter adding another long day's walk to our tour. 

(_Distance walked thirty-two and a half miles_. )

_Saturday, October 14th. _

The long, straggling street of Aspatria was lit up with gas as we passedalong it in the early morning on the road towards Maryport, and wemarched through a level and rather uninteresting country, staying forslight boot repairs at a village on our way. We found Maryport to bequite a modern looking seaport town, with some collieries in theneighbourhood. We were told that the place had taken its name from MaryQueen of Scots; but we found this was not correct, as the name was givento it about the year 1756, after Mary the wife of Humphrey Senhouse, theLord of the Manor at that period, the first house there apart from theold posting-house, having been built in the year 1748. For centuriesthere had been a small fishing-village at the mouth of the river, whichin the time of Edward I was named Ellenfoot, while the river itself wasnamed the Alne, now corrupted into Ellen. Maryport was of someimportance in the time of the Romans, and their camp, about fiveacres in extent, still overlooked the sea. It was probably founded byAgricola about A. D. 79, and in A. D. 120 was the station of the RomanFleet under Marcus Menaeius Agrippa, Admiral of the Roman Fleet inBritish Waters, and a personal friend of Hadrian. The Roman name of thestation was probably Glanoventa, though other names have been suggested. The North-east Gateway was more distinct than other portions of thecamp, the ruts made by the chariot wheels of the Romans being stillvisible inside the threshold. The Roman village in those days coveredthe four fields on the north-east side of the camp, and since theseventeenth century about forty Roman altars had been found, seventeenof them having been discovered in 1870, the year before our visit. Theyhad been carefully buried about 300 yards east of the camp, and werediscovered through a plough striking against one of them. Among themwere altars to Jupiter, Mars, Virtue, Vulcan, Neptune, Belatucadrus, Eternal Rome, Gods and Goddesses, Victory, and to the Genius of thePlace Fortune, Rome. In addition there were twelve small or householdaltars, querns, Roman millstones, cup and ring stones, a large, so-called, serpent stone, and several sepulchral slabs, sculptures, etc. There were also large quantities of Samian and other pottery, andarticles in glass, bronze, lead, and iron, with about 140 coins, many ofthese remains being unique. This wonderful discovery proved that theRomans were resident here right up to the end of their occupation ofBritain, as the coins bore the names of thirty-two Roman Emperors. Thealtars themselves were buried where they were found probably before A. D. 200. It is well known that their soldiers were drafted from many othernations, and there is distinct evidence that amongst others the firstcohort of Spaniards appeared to have been prominent, while the LegionaryStones were of the Second and Twentieth Legions, the latter beingstationed for a long time at Chester and moved to the north of Englandin the latter half of the fourth century. 

[Illustration: ALTAR STONES. "Roman remains found at Maryport, anddating probably about or before A. D. 200. "]

[Illustration: ALTAR STONES. "Among them were altars to Jupiter, Mars, Vulcan, household altars, and legionary stones. "]

[Illustration: THE SERPENT STONE. ]

The Roman ships carried stores here from Deva, their station on theDee, now known as Chester, for the use of the builders of Hadrian'sWall, so that Maryport ought to be a happy hunting-ground forantiquaries. After the departure of the Romans, Maryport must have beenleft to decay for over a thousand years, and it seemed even now to be aplace that very few tourists visited. Netherhall, where most of theantiquities were carefully stored, was originally a Peel Tower, and upto the year 1528 was the home of the Eaglesfields and the reputedbirthplace of Robert Eaglesfield, the founder of Queen's College, Oxford; it was now in possession of the Senhouse family. There was alsothe Mote Hill, overlooking the river and surrounded by a deep ditch, under the protection of which the Roman galleys anchored. 

A romantic legend of the period of the Roman occupation still clings tothe neighbourhood, called the Legend of the Golden Coffin:

 The daughter of one of the Roman officers was loved by a young warrior from the other side of the Solway. Their trysting-place was discovered by the girl's father, who had a number of soldiers with him, and in spite of the entreaties of the girl, her lover was killed. With his death the maiden had no desire to live; night after night she made her way to the fatal spot, where she was eventually found, having died of a broken heart. The father prepared a wonderful funeral for her. Her body was arranged in silken garments, and then placed in a golden coffin and buried in a deep grave just outside the camp, where her spirit was still supposed to haunt the place at midnight. 

On the sea coast a sunken forest existed, while the shore was coveredwith granite boulders of many sizes and shapes, and large numbers ofsimilar stones were ploughed up in the fields, all apparently ice-borne, and having been carried mostly from Criffel on the Scottish coast, andthe following legend was told here to explain their presence on theEnglish side of the Solway. 

There once lived a giant on Criffel which was on the opposite coast ofthe Solway Firth, while another giant lived on Skiddaw, one of thehighest mountains in Cumberland. For a time they lived in peace andquietness, but an occasion came when they quarrelled. Then they took upstones and hurled them at each other; but many of them fell short, andhence they are now widely scattered. 

[Illustration: WORDSWORTH'S BIRTHPLACE, COCKERMOUTH. ]

We now returned towards the hills and followed what was once a Romanroad through a level country to Cockermouth, passing on our way throughthe colliery village of Dearham, a name meaning the "home of wildanimals"; but we saw nothing wilder than a few colliers. The churchhere was built in 1130, while the tower was built in the fourteenthcentury for defence against the Scotch marauders. There were many oldstones and crosses in the churchyard. Cockermouth, as its name implies, is situated at the mouth of the River Cocker, which here joins itslarger neighbour the River Derwent, and has been called the Western Gateof the Lake District. Here also were Roman, Saxon, and Norman remains. The castle, standing in a strong position between the two rivers, wasrebuilt in the reign of Edward I, and in Edward II's time his haughtyfavourite, Piers Gaveston, resided in it for a short period. It was heldfor the king during the Civil War, but was left in ruins after an attackby the Parliamentarians in 1648. The Gateway Tower displayed many coatsof arms, and there was the usual dungeon, or subterranean chamber, whilethe habitable portion of the castle formed the residence of LordLeconfield. The poet, William Wordsworth, was born at Cockermouth onApril 7th, 1770, about a hundred years before we visited it, and one ofhis itinerary poems of 1833 was an address from the Spirit ofCockermouth Castle:

 Thou look'st upon me, and dost fondly think, Poet! that, stricken as both are by years, We, differing once so much, are now compeers, Prepared, when each has stood his time, to sink Into the dust. Erewhile a sterner link United us; when thou in boyish play, Entered my dungeon, did'st become a prey To soul-appalling darkness. Not a blink Of light was there; and thus did I, thy Tutor, Make thy young thoughts acquainted with the grave; While thou wert chasing the winged butterfly Through my green courts; or climbing, a bold suitor, Up to the flowers whose golden progeny Still round my shattered brow in beauty wave. 

[Illustration: COCKERMOUTH CASTLE]

Mary Queen of Scots stayed at Cockermouth on the night of May 17th, 1568--after the defeat of her army at Langside--at the house of HenryFletcher, a merchant, who gave her thirteen ells of rich crimson velvetto make a robe she badly needed. 

[Illustration: PORTINSCALE. ]

The weather turned out wet in the afternoon, so we stayed for tea at oneof the inns in the town, and noted with curiosity that the number of theinhabitants in Cockermouth was 7, 700 at one census, and exactly the samenumber at the next, which followed ten years afterwards. The new moonwas now due, and had brought with it a change in the weather, our longspell of fine weather having given place to rain. We did not altogetheragree with our agricultural friends in Cheshire that it was the moonthat changed the weather, but it would be difficult to persuade thefarmers there to the contrary, since the changes in the weather almostinvariably came with the phases in the moon; so, without venturing tosay that the moon changed the weather or that the weather changed themoon, we will hazard the opinion that the same influences mightsimultaneously affect both, and the knowledge that we were approachingthe most rainy district in all England warned us to prepare for theworst. The scenery improved as we journeyed towards Keswick, the "Cityof the Lakes, " but not the weather, which continued dull and rainy, until by the time we reached the British stronghold known as Peel Wykeit was nearly dark. Here we reached Bassenthwaite Lake, four miles longand one mile broad, and had it not been for the rain and the darkness wemight have had a good view across the lake of Skiddaw Mountain, 3, 054feet above sea-level and towards the right, and of Helvellyn, a stillhigher mountain, rising above Derwent Water, immediately in front of us. We had seen both of these peaks in the distance, but as the rain came ontheir summits became enveloped in the clouds. We walked about threemiles along the edge of Bassenthwaite Lake, passing the villages ofThornthwaite and Braithwaite, where lead and zinc were mined. Onarriving at Portinscale we crossed the bridge over the River Derwentwhich connects that lake (Derwent Water) with Bassenthwaite Lake throughwhich it flows, and thence, past Cockermouth, to the sea at Workington. Soon after leaving Portinscale we arrived at Keswick, where we werecomfortably housed until Monday morning at the Skiddaw Hotel, formerly alicensed house, but since converted into a first-class temperance houseby Miss Lawson, the sister of Sir Wilfrid Lawson, Bart. , M. P. 

(_Distance walked twenty-eight miles_. )

_Sunday, October 15th. _

Rain had fallen heavily during the night, but the weather cleared up alittle as we wended our way to morning service at Crosthwaite Church, dedicated to St. Kentigern, a Bishop of Glasgow, in the sixth century, and doing duty, we supposed, as the parish church of Keswick. The fontthere dated from the year 1390, and bore the arms of Edward III, withinscriptions on each of its eight sides which we could not decipher. Inthe chancel stood an alabaster tomb and effigy of Sir John Radcliffe andhis wife, ancestors of the Earl of Derwentwater. The church alsocontained a monument to Southey the poet, erected at a cost of £1, 100, and bearing the following epitaph written by the poet Wordsworth:

 The vales and hills whose beauty hither drew The poet's steps, and fixed him here, on you His eyes have closed! And ye, lov'd books, no more Shall Southey feed upon your precious lore, To works that ne'er shall forfeit their renown. Adding immortal labours of his own-- Whether he traced historic truth, with zeal For the State's guidance, and the Church's weal Or fancy, disciplined by studious art, Inform'd his pen, or wisdom of the heart. Or judgements sanctioned in the Patriot's mind By reverence for the rights of all mankind. Wide were his aims, yet in no human breast Could private feelings meet for holier rest. His joys, his griefs, have vanished like a cloud From Skiddaw's top; but he to heaven was vowed. Through his industrious life, and Christian faith Calmed in his soul the fear of change and death. 

We attended the same church in the afternoon, and both the sermons werepreached by the curate, his texts being Deut. Vi. 5 in the morning andHebrews iv. 3 in the afternoon. We were surprised to see such largecongregations on a wet day, but concluded that the people were soaccustomed to rain in that part of the country that they looked upon itas a matter of course. The people of Keswick evidently had other viewsas regards church-going than is expressed in the following lines by anauthor whose name we do not remember:

 No pelting rain can make us stay When we have tickets for the play; But let one drop the side-walk smirch. And it's too wet to go to church. 

At the morning service we sat in a pew in the rear of the church, and atone point in the service when it was usual in that part of the countryfor the congregation to sit down, one gentleman only remained standing. We could scarcely believe our own eyes when we recognised in thissolitary figure the commanding form of Colonel Greenall of theWarrington Volunteers, a gentleman whom we know full well, for hisbrother was the rector of Grappenhall, our native village, where theColonel himself formerly resided. 

He was a great stickler for a due recognition of that pleasing butold-fashioned custom now fallen out of use, of the boys giving therector, the squire, or any other prominent member of their families arespectful recognition when meeting them in the village or on theirwalks abroad. On one occasion the boys had forgotten their usualobeisance when meeting some relatives of the Colonel. He was highlyindignant at this sin of omission, and took the earliest opportunity tobring the matter forcibly before his Sunday-school class, of which mybrother was a member. The Colonel spoke long and feelingly to the boyson the subject of ordering themselves lowly and reverently before alltheir "betters, " including governors, teachers, spiritual pastors andmasters, and to all those who were put in authority over them, and woundup his peroration with these words, which my brother never forgot, "Andnow, boys, whenever you meet ME, or any of MY FAMILY, mind you alwaystouch your HATS!"

[Illustration: CROSTHWAITE CHURCH, KESWICK. ]

We did not stop to speak to the Colonel, as he was at the other end ofthe church and passed out through another door, but we were recognisedby one of his men, who told us the Colonel had only just removed to thatneighbourhood. He had liked his summer's experiences there, but did notknow how he would go on in the winter. The Colonel and his man were theonly persons we saw on the whole of our journey that we knew. 

To return to our boyish experiences and to the Colonel, the subject ofhis Sunday-school lesson was taken from the Summary of the TenCommandments in the Church of England Prayer Book, where they weredivided into two parts, the first four relating to our duty to God, andthe remaining six to our duty towards our neighbour. It was surprisinghow these questions and answers learned in the days of our youth dweltin our memories, and being Sunday, we each wrote them down from memorywith the same result, and we again record them for the benefit of any ofour friends who wish to "read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest. "

"_Question_. --What is thy duty towards God?

"_Answer_. --My duty towards God, is to believe in Him, to fear Him, andto love Him with all my heart, with all my mind, with all my soul, andwith all my strength; to worship Him, to give Him thanks, to put mywhole trust in Him, to call upon Him, to honour His holy Name and HisWord, and to serve Him truly all the days of my life. 

"_Question_. --What is thy duty towards thy Neighbour?

"_Answer_. --My duty towards my Neighbour, is to love him as myself, andto do unto all men, as I would they should do unto me: To love, honour, and succour my father and mother: To honour and obey the Queen, and allthat are put in authority under her: To submit myself to all mygovernors, teachers, spiritual pastors and masters: To order myselflowly and reverently to all my betters: To hurt no body by word nordeed: To be true and just in all my dealing: To bear no malice norhatred in my heart: To keep my hands from picking and stealing, and mytongue from evil-speaking, lying, and slandering: To keep my body intemperance, soberness, and chastity: Not to covet nor desire other men'sgoods; but to learn and labour truly to get mine own living, and to domy duty in that state of life, unto which it shall please God to callme. "

The word "duty" in the last paragraph of the explanation of one's dutyto one's neighbour must have been in the thoughts of both Nelson and hismen at the Battle of Trafalgar when he signalled, "England expects thatevery man this day will do his duty. " Although objections may be raisedto clauses in the summary, we always thought that our country could benone the worse, but all the better, if every one learned and tried toact up to the principles contained in these summaries of the TenCommandments. 

In the evening we attended St. John's Church, where the Vicar officiatedand preached from Isaiah lxvii. 7 to a large congregation, and after theservice we returned to our hotel. 

Keswick was a great resort of tourists and holiday people, and we werenot without company at the hotel, from whom we obtained plenty of adviceconcerning our route on the morrow. We were strongly recommended to seethe Druidical Circle and to climb Skiddaw, whose summit was over 3, 000feet above sea-level, from which we should have a view scarcelysurpassed in the whole of Europe, and a scene that would baffle theattempts of ordinary men to describe, having taxed even the powers ofSouthey and Wordsworth. These recommendations and others were allqualified with the words "if fine. " But, oh that little word "if"--sosmall that we scarcely notice it, yet how much does it portend! At anyrate we could not arrive at a satisfactory decision that night, owing tothe unfavourable state of the weather. 

FIFTH WEEK'S JOURNEY

A WEEK IN THE RAIN

_Monday, October 16th. _

The morning was showery, but we were obliged to continue our walk, so weleft Keswick with the intention of visiting the Falls of Lodore, thelarge Bowder Stone, and the Yew Trees in Borrowdale, and afterwardscrossing over the fells to visit the graves of the poets at Grasmere. Wehad been recommended to ascend the Castle Rigg, quite near the town, inorder to see the fine views from there, which included BassenthwaiteLake and Derwent Water. The poet Gray, who died in 1771, was so muchimpressed by the retrospect, and with what he had seen from the topwhere once the castle stood, that he declared he had "a good mind to goback again. " Unfortunately we had to forgo even that ascent, as the raindescended in almost torrential showers. So we journeyed on in the rainalongside the pretty lake of Derwent Water, which is about three mileslong and about a mile and a half broad, the water being so clear, wewere informed, that a small stone could be seen even if five or sixyards below the surface. It was certainly a lovely lake, and, with itsnicely wooded islands dotting its surface, recalled memories of LochLomond. The first of these islands, about six acres in extent, was namedthe Vicar's or Derwent Island, on which a family mansion had beenerected. On Lord's Island, which was quite near the side, were the ruinsof an old summer-house built by the Ratcliffe family with the stonesfrom their ruined castle on Castlerigg. The third island, which was inthe centre of the lake, also had a summer-house that had been builtthere by the late Sir Wilfrid Lawson, composed of unhewn stone andcovered with moss to make it look ancient. This was known as St. Herbert's Island, after a holy hermit who lived there in the sixthcentury, the ruins of whose hermitage could still be traced. It was saidthat so great and perfect was the love of this saintly hermit for hisfriend St. Cuthbert of Holy Island, whose shrine was ultimately settledat Durham, that he used to pray that he might expire the moment thebreath of life quitted the body of his friend, so that their souls mightwing their flight to heaven in company. 

Although not so large as Lake Windermere, Derwent Water was consideredthe most beautiful of the lakes because of these lovely islands on itssurface and the grand hills that encircled it. This lake of unsurpassedbeauty was associated both in name and reality with the unfortunate Earlof Derwentwater, who suffered death for the part he took in the Jacobiterising in 1715, and to whom Lord's Island belonged. He was virtuallycompelled by his countess to join the rising, for when she saw hisreluctance to do so, she angrily threw her fan at his feet, andcommanded him take that and hand her his sword. The Earl gravely pickedit up, returned it to her, and, drawing his sword, cried, "God save KingJames!" The Jacobites were supporters of James II, who was supplanted byWilliam III, Prince of Orange, in 1689, James then retreating toIreland, where he was defeated at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690. Therising in which the Earl of Derwentwater took part in the year 1715 wasin support of the son of James II, James Edward, whose adherents weredefeated at Preston in November of the same year, the unfortunate Earl, with many others, being taken prisoner. The son of this James Edward wasthe "Bonnie Prince Charlie" so beloved of the Scots, who landed to claimthe English Crown in 1745, and was defeated at the Battle of Culloden in1746, where the Jacobite movement found its grave. Much sympathy wasfelt at the time for the young Earl of Derwentwater, and there was atradition in the family that in times of great peril a supernaturalfigure appeared to warn them of approaching fate. It is said that whenhis lordship was wandering over the hills, a figure approached clothedin the robe and hood of grey which the supernatural figure always wore, gave him a crucifix, which was to render him proof against bullet andsword, and then immediately disappeared. The Earl joined the insurgents, who were defeated by the Royal troops at Preston, and he, with otherleaders, was taken to London, placed in the Tower, and condemned todeath for treason. His wife, taking the family jewels with her, imploredKing George I, on her knees, for mercy; and Sir Robert Walpole declaredin the House of Commons that he had been offered £60, 000 if he wouldobtain Lord Derwentwater's pardon; but all efforts were in vain, for hedied by the axe on Tower Hill, February 24th, 1716, and his estates wereforfeited to the Government. 

[Illustration: FALLS OF LODORE. ]

We enjoyed our walk along Derwentwater in spite of the weather, but aswe approached Lodore, and heard the noise of the waters, we realisedthat we had scored one great advantage from the continued rain, for wecould not have seen the falls to better advantage, as they fully carriedout the description of Southey, written when he was Poet Laureate ofEngland, in the following jingling rhyme:

 "How does the water come down at Lodore?" My little boy asked me thus, once on a time, Moreover, he task'd me to tell him in rhyme; Anon at the word there first came one daughter. And then came another to second and third The request of their brother, and hear how the water Comes down at Lodore, with its rush and its roar, As many a time they had seen it before. So I told them in rhyme, for of rhymes I had store. And 'twas my vocation that thus I should sing. Because I was laureate to them and the king. 

Visitors to the Lake District, who might chance to find fine weatherthere, would be disappointed if they expected the falls to be equal tothe poet's description, since heavy rains are essential to produce allthe results described in his poem. But seen as we saw them, a torrentialflood of water rushing and roaring, the different streams of which theywere composed dashing into each other over the perpendicular cliffs onevery side, they presented a sight of grandeur and magnificence never tobe forgotten, while the trees around and above seemed to look on theturmoil beneath them as if powerless, except to lend enchantment to theimpressive scene. 

 And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing-- And so never ending, but always descending, Sounds and motions for ever are blending. All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar-- And this way the water comes down at Lodore!

The water rolled in great volumes down the crags, the spray rising inclouds, and no doubt we saw the falls at their best despite the absenceof the sun. Near Lodore, and about 150 yards from the shore ofDerwentwater, was a floating island which at regular intervals of a fewyears rises from the bottom exposing sometimes nearly an acre in extent, and at others only a few perches. This island was composed of a mass ofdecayed weeds and earthy matter, nearly six feet in thickness, coveredwith vegetation, and full of air bubbles, which, it was supposed, penetrated the whole mass and caused it to rise to the surface. 

[Illustration: HEAD OF DERWENTWATER. "So we journeyed on in the rainalongside the pretty lake of Derwentwater; . . . With its nicely woodedislands dotting its surface it recalled memories of Loch Lomond. "]

By this time we had become quite accustomed to being out in the rain andgetting wet to the skin, but the temperature was gradually falling, andwe had to be more careful lest we should catch cold. It was veryprovoking that we had to pass through the Lake District without seeingit, but from the occasional glimpses we got between the showers wecertainly thought we were passing through the prettiest country in allour travels. In Scotland the mountains were higher and the lakes, orlochs, much larger, but the profiles of the hills here, at least ofthose we saw, were prettier. About two miles from the Falls of Lodore wearrived at the famous Bowder Stone. We had passed many crags and throughbewitching scenery, but we were absolutely astonished at the size ofthis great stone, which Wordsworth has described as being like astranded ship:

 Upon a semicirque of turf-clad ground, A mass of rock, resembling, as it lay Right at the foot of that moist precipice, A stranded ship with keel upturned, that rests Careless of winds and waves. 

[Illustration: THE BOWDER STONE. ]

The most modest estimate of the weight of the Bowder Stone was 1, 771tons, and we measured it as being 21 yards long and 12 yards high. Thisimmense mass of rock had evidently fallen from the hills above. Weclimbed up the great stone by means of a ladder or flight of woodensteps erected against it to enable visitors to reach the top. But thestrangest thing about it was the narrow base on which the stone rested, consisting merely of a few narrow ledges of rock. We were told thatfifty horses could shelter under it, and that we could shake hands witheach other under the bottom of the stone, and although we could not testthe accuracy of the statement with regard to the number of horses itcould shelter, we certainly shook hands underneath it. To do this we hadto lie down, and it was not without a feeling of danger that we did so, with so many hundreds of tons of rock above our heads, and the thoughtthat if the rock had given way a few inches we should have been reducedto a mangled mass of blood and bones. Our friendly greeting was not oflong duration, and we were pleased when the ceremony was over. There isa legend that in ancient times the natives of Borrowdale endeavoured towall in the cuckoo so that they might have perpetual spring, but thestory relates that in this they were not entirely successful, for thecuckoo just managed to get over the wall. We now continued our journeyto find the famous Yew Trees of Borrowdale, which Wordsworth describesin one of his pastorates as "those fraternal four of Borrowdale":

 But worthier still of note Are those fraternal four of Borrowdale, Joined in one solemn and capacious grove; Huge trunks! and each particular trunk a growth Of intertwisted fibres serpentine Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved; Nor uniformed with Phantasy, and looks That threaten the profane; a pillared shade, From whose grassless floor of red-brown hue, By sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged Perennially--beneath whose sable roof Of boughs, as if for festal purpose decked With unrejoicing berries--ghostly shapes May meet at noontide; Fear and trembling Hope, Silence and Foresight; Death the Skeleton, And Time the Shadow; there to celebrate, As in a natural temple scattered o'er With altars undisturbed of mossy stone, United worship; or in mute repose To lie, and listen to the mountain flood Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves. 

[Illustration: BORROWDALE AND SEATHWAITE]

It was a lonely place where the four yew trees stood, though not farfrom the old black lead works which at one time produced the finestplumbago for lead pencils in the world. As the rain was falling heavily, we lit a fire under the largest of the four trees, which measured abouttwenty-one feet in circumference at four feet from the ground, andsheltered under its venerable shade for about an hour, watching amuch-swollen streamlet as it rolled down the side of a mountain. 

Near the yew trees there was a stream which we had to cross, as our nextstage was over the fells to Grasmere; but when we came to its swollenwaters, which we supposed came from "Glaramara's inmost Caves, " theywere not "murmuring" as Wordsworth described them, but coming with arush and a roar, and to our dismay we found the bridge broken down andportions of it lying in the bed of the torrent. We thought of a stanzain a long-forgotten ballad:

 London Bridge is broken down! Derry derry down, derry derry down!

Luckily we found a footbridge lower down the stream. It was nownecessary to inquire our way at one of the isolated farms in theneighbourhood of Borrowdale, where the people knew very little of whatwas going on in the world outside their own immediate environs. We hearda story relating to the middle of the eighteenth century, when in theabsence of roads goods had to be carried on horseback. A rustic, who hadbeen sent for a bag of lime, the properties of which were unknown inremote places, placed the bag on the back of his horse, and while he wasreturning up the hills the rain came on, soaking the bag so that thelime began to swell and smoke. The youth thought that it was on fire, so, jumping off his horse, he filled his hat with water from the streamand threw it on the bag. This only made matters worse, for the limebegan smoking more than ever; so he lifted it from the horse's back andplaced it in the water at the edge of the stream, where, in addition tosmoking, it began to boil and to make a hissing sound, which sofrightened the young man that he rode home in terror, feeling sure thatit was the Devil who had sneaked inside the bag!

We made our way to a farmhouse which we could see in the distance, butthe farmer advised us not to attempt to cross the fells, as it was mistyand not likely to clear up that day. So we turned back, and in about twomiles met a countryman, who told us we could get to Grasmere over whathe called the "Green Nip, " a mountain whose base he pointed out to us. We returned towards the hills, but we had anything but an easy walk, forwe could find no proper road, and walked on for hours in a "go as youplease" manner. Our whereabouts we did not know, since we could only seea few yards before us. We walked a long way up hill, and finally landedin some very boggy places, and when the shades of evening began to comeon we became a little alarmed, and decided to follow the running water, as we had done on a very much worse occasion in the north of Scotland. Presently we heard the rippling of a small stream, which we followed, though with some difficulty, as it sometimes disappeared into the rocks, until just at nightfall we came to a gate at the foot of the fells, andthrough the open door of a cottage beheld the blaze of a tire burningbrightly inside. We climbed over the gate, and saw standing in thegarden a man who stared so hard at us, and with such a look ofastonishment, that we could not have helped speaking to him in anycase, even had he not been the first human being we had seen for manyhours. When we told him where we had come from, he said we might thinkourselves lucky in coming safely over the bogs on such a misty day, andtold us a story of a gentleman from Bradford who had sunk so deeply inone of the bogs that only with the greatest difficulty had he beenrescued. 

He told us it was his custom each evening to come out of his cottage fora short time before retiring to rest, and that about a month before ourvisit he had been out one night as usual after his neighbours had goneto bed, and, standing at his cottage door, he thought he heard a faintcry. He listened again: yes, he could distinctly hear a cry for help. Hewoke up his neighbours, and they and his son, going in the directionfrom which the cries came, found a gentleman fast in the rocks. He hadbeen on a visit to Grasmere, and had gone out for an afternoon's walk onthe fells, when the mist came on and he lost his way. As night fell hetried to get between some rocks, when he slipped into a crevice andjammed himself fast between them--fortunately for himself as itafterwards proved, for when the rescuing party arrived, they found himin such a dangerous position that, if he had succeeded in gettingthrough the rocks the way he intended, he would inevitably have fallendown the precipice and been killed. 

After hearing these stories, we felt very thankful we were safely offthe fells. Without knowing it, we had passed the scene of the Battle ofDunmail Raise, where Dunmail, the last King of Cumbria, an old Britishkingdom, was said to have been killed in 945 fighting against Edmund, King of England. 

The place we had stumbled upon after reaching the foot of the fells wasWythburn, at the head of Thirlmere Lake, quite near Amboth Hall, withits strange legends and associations. The mansion was said to be hauntedby supernatural visitors, midnight illuminations, and a nocturnalmarriage with a murdered bride. The most remarkable feature of thestory, however, was that of the two skulls from Calgarth Hall, nearWindermere, which came and joined in these orgies at Amboth Hall. Theseskulls formerly occupied a niche in Calgarth Hall, from which it wasfound impossible to dislodge them. They were said to have been buried, burned, ground to powder, dispersed by the wind, sunk in a well, andthrown into the lake, but all to no purpose, for they invariablyappeared again in their favourite niche until some one thought ofwalling them up, which proved effectual, and there they still remain. 

The rain had now ceased, and the moon, only three days old, was alreadyvisible and helped to light us on our four-mile walk to Grasmere. On ourway we overtook a gentleman visitor, to whom we related our adventure, and who kindly offered us a drink from his flask. We did not drinkanything stronger than tea or coffee, so we could not accept the whisky, but we were glad to accept his guidance to the best inn at Grasmere, where we soon relieved the cravings of our pedestrian appetites, which, as might be imagined, had grown strongly upon us. 

(_Distance walked twenty-two miles_. )

_Tuesday, October 17th. _

GRASMERE. Our first duty in the morning was to call at the post officefor our letters from home, and then to fortify ourselves with a goodbreakfast; our next was to see the graves of the poets in thepicturesque and quiet churchyard. We expected to find some massivemonuments, but found only plain stone flags marking their quietresting-places, particularly that of Wordsworth, which was inscribed:

 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 1850 MARY WORDSWORTH 1859. 

The grave of Hartley Coleridge, his great friend, who was buried in1849, was also there. There are few who do not know his wonderful poem, "The Ancient Mariner, " said to have been based on an old manuscriptstory of a sailor preserved in the Bristol Library. Strange to say, notfar from his grave was that of Sir John Richardson, a physician andarctic explorer, who brought home the relics of Sir John Franklin'sill-fated and final voyage to the Arctic regions to discover theNorth-West Passage. This brought to our minds all the details of thatsorrowful story which had been repeatedly told to us in our earlychildhood, and was, to our youthful minds, quite as weird as that of"The Ancient Mariner. "

[Illustration: GRASMERE CHURCH. ]

Sir John Franklin was born in 1786. Intended by his parents for theChurch, but bent on going to sea, he joined the Royal Navy when he wasfourteen years of age, and served as a midshipman on the _Bellerophon_at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805, afterwards taking part in CaptainFlinders' voyage of discovery along the coast of Australia. His firstvoyage to the Arctic Regions was in 1818, and after a long and eventfulcareer he was created Governor of Van Diemen's Land in 1837, whithercriminals convicted of grave offences involving transportation for lifewere sent from England, where he did much for the improvement andwell-being of the colony. 

On May 19th, 1845, he left England with the two ships _Erebus_ and_Terror_, having on board 28 officers and 111 men--in all 134 souls--ona voyage to the Arctic Regions in the hope of discovering the North-WestPassage. They reached Stromness, in the Orkneys, on July 1st, and wereafterwards seen and spoken to in the North Sea by the whaler _Prince ofWales_, belonging to Hull. After that all was blank. 

Lady Franklin did not expect to receive any early news from her husband, but when two years passed away without her hearing from him, she becameanxious, and offered a large reward for any tidings of him. In 1848 oldexplorers went out to search for him, but without result. Stillbelieving he was alive, she sent out other expeditions, and one was evendispatched from America. All England was roused, and the sympathy of theentire nation was extended to Lady Franklin. 

Nine long years passed away, but still no news, until intelligencearrived that an Eskimo had been found wearing on his head a goldcap-band which he said he had picked up where "the dead white men were. "Lady Franklin then made a final effort, and on July 1st, 1857, CaptainMcClintock sailed from England in the _Fox_. In course of time thematter was cleared up. It was proved that the whole of the expeditionhad perished, Sir John Franklin having died on June 11th, 1847. Manyrelics were found and brought back to England. 

[Illustration: DOVE COTTAGE. ]

Lady Franklin, who died in 1875, was still alive at the time we passedthrough Grasmere. One of her last acts was to erect a marble monument toSir John Franklin in Westminster Abbey, and it was her great wish towrite the epitaph herself, but as she died before this was accomplished, it was written by Alfred Tennyson, a nephew of Sir John by marriage, andread as follows:

 Not here! the white North hath thy bones, and thou Heroic Sailor Soul! Art passing on thy happier voyage now Towards no earthly pole. 

Dean Stanley added a note to the effect that the monument was "Erectedby his widow, who, after long waiting and sending many in search of him, herself departed to seek and to find him in the realms of light, 18thJuly, 1875, aged eighty-three years. "

But to return to Grasmere. Wordsworth lived there from 1803 to 1809 atthe Dove Cottage, of which, in the first canto of "The Waggoner, " hewrote:

 For at the bottom of the brow Where once the "Dove and Olive-Bough" Offered a greeting of good ale To all who entered Grasmere Vale; And called on him who must depart To leave it with a jovial heart; There, where the "Dove and Olive-Bough" Once hung, a poet harbours now, A simple water-drinking Bard. 

When Wordsworth moved to Rydal Mount, this cottage, which had formerlybeen a public-house, was taken by that master of English prose, Thomasde Quincey, author of the _Confessions of an English Opium Eater_. 

[Illustration: RYDAL MOUNT. ]

[Illustration: THE POET'S SEAT, RYDAL WATER. ]

Wordsworth had the habit of reciting his poetry aloud as he went alongthe road, and on that account the inhabitants thought he was not quitesane. When Hartley Coleridge, his great friend, asked an old man who wasbreaking stones on the road if he had any news, he answered, "Why, nowtevarry partic'lar; only awd Wordsworth's brokken lowse ageean!" (hadanother fit of madness). On another occasion, a lady visitor asked awoman in the village whether Wordsworth made himself agreeable amongthem. "Well, " she said, "he sometimes goes booin' his pottery aboutt'rooads an' t'fields an' tak's na nooatish o' neabody, but at uddertimes he'll say 'Good morning, Dolly, ' as sensible as owder you or me. "

The annual sports held at Grasmere were of more than local interest, andthe Rush-bearing was still kept up, but not quite in the mannerprevalent in earlier centuries. When heating apparatus was unknown inchurches, the rushes were gathered, loaded in a cart, and taken to thechurch, where they were placed on the floor and in the pews to keep thefeet of the worshippers warm while they were in the church, beingremoved and replenished each year when the rush-bearing festival cameround again. One of our earliest recollections was sitting amongst therushes on the floor of a pew in the ancient country church at Lymm inCheshire. 

[Illustration: WORDSWORTH'S GRAVE. ]

An item in the Church Book at Grasmere, dating from the seventeenthcentury, recorded the cost of "Ye ale bestowed on ye Rush Bearers, "while in 1830 gingerbread appeared to have been substituted or added asa luxury to "ye ale. "

We passed alongside the pretty lakes of Grasmere and Rydal Water amidbeautiful scenery. Mrs. Hemans, in her sonnet, "A remembrance ofGrasmere, " wrote:

 O vale and lake, within your mountain urn, Smiling so tranquilly, and set so deep! Oft doth your dreamy loveliness return. Colouring the tender shadows of my sleep. Your shores in melting lustre, seem to float On golden clouds from spirit-lands, remote Isles of the blest:--and in our memory keep Their place with holiest harmonies. Fair scene Most loved by Evening and her dewy star! Oh! ne'er may man, with touch unhallow'd, jar The perfect music of the charm serene: Still, still unchanged, may _one_ sweet region wear Smiles that subdue the soul to love, and tears, and prayer!

On our way to Ambleside we passed Rydal Mount, Wordsworth's residenceuntil his death in 1850 in the eightieth year of his age. Mrs. Hemanshas described it as "a lovely cottage-like building, almost hidden by aprofusion of roses and ivy. " Ambleside was a great centre for touristsand others, being situated at the head of the fine Lake of Windermere, to which its admirers were ambitious enough to apply Sir Walter Scott'slines on Loch Katrine:

 In all her length far winding lay With promontory, creek, and bay, And islands that impurpled bright Floated amid the livelier light. And mountains that like Giants stand To sentinel enchanted land. 

There was a Roman camp which we proposed visiting, and possiblyHelvellyn, but we were compelled for a time to seek refuge in one of thehotels from the rain. There we met a gentleman, a resident in thelocality, who was what we might describe as a religious enthusiast, forhe had a very exalted opinion of the Vicar of Ambleside, whom hedescribed as a "Christian man"--a term obviously making distinctionsamong vicars with which we heartily agreed. There must have been anatmosphere of poetry in the Lake District affecting both visitors andnatives, for in a small valley, half a mile from a lonely chapel, stoodthe only inn, bearing the strange sign of "The Mortal Man" on which somenative poet, but not Wordsworth, had written:

 O Mortal Man, who liv'st on bread, What is't that makes thy nose so red?-- Thou silly ass, that looks so pale. It is with drinking Burkett's ale. 

[Illustration: THE OLD MILL AT AMBLESIDE. ]

Immediately behind Ambleside there was a fearfully steep road leading upto the head of Kirkstone Pass, where at an altitude of quite 1, 400 feetstood the "Travellers' Rest Inn. " In our time walking was the only meansof crossing the pass, but now visitors are conveyed up this hill incoaches, but as the gradient is so steep in some parts, they areinvariably asked to walk, so as to relieve the horses a little, a factwhich found expression in the Visitors' Book at the "Travellers' Rest"in the following lines:

 He surely is an arrant ass Who pays to ride up Kirkstone Pass, For he will find, in spite of talking, He'll have to walk and pay for walking. 

Three parts of Windermere is in Lancashire, and it is the largest andperhaps the deepest water in the Lake District, being ten and a halfmiles long by water, and thirteen miles by road along its shores; thewater is at no point more than two miles broad. It is said to maintainthe same level at the upper end whether it rains or not, and is so clearthat in some places the fish can plainly be seen swimming far beneathits surface. The islands are clustered together at its narrowest part, by far the largest being Belle Isle, a finely wooded island with amansion in the centre, and a noted stronghold of the Royalists duringthe Civil War, at which time it was in the possession of the ancientWestmorland family of Phillipson. We did not walk alongside Windermere, but passed by the head of the lake to the old-world village ofHawkshead, and called at the quaint old-fashioned inn known by thefamiliar sign of the "Red Lion. " While tea was being prepared wesurveyed the village, and on a stone in the churchyard we found thefollowing epitaph:

 This stone can boast as good a wife As ever lived a married life, And from her marriage to her grave She was never known to mis-behave. The tongue which others seldom guide, Was never heard to blame or chide; From every folly always free She was what others ought to be. 

[Illustration: HAWKSHEAD SQUARE AND INN. ]

We had a long talk with the mistress of the inn, who told us thatWordsworth was educated at the Grammar School in the village, and wewere surprised to hear from her that the Rev. Richard Greenall, whom wehad often heard officiate when he was curate of our native village ofGrappenhall, was now the vicar of Hawkshead. We had quite as exalted anopinion of him as the gentleman we met at Ambleside had of his vicar. He was a clergyman who not only read the prayers, but prayed them at thesame time:

 I often say my prayers, But do I ever pray?

and it was a pleasure to listen to the modulations of his voice as herecited the Lord's Prayer, and especially when repeating that finesupplication to the Almighty, beginning with the words "Almighty andmost merciful Father. " At that time it was not the custom to recite, read, or sing the prayers in one continual whine on one note (say Gsharp) when offering up supplications to the Almighty--a note which ifadopted by a boy at school would have ensured for him a severe caning, or by a beggar at your door a hasty and forcible departure. Nor were theLessons read in a monotone, which destroys all sense of their fullmeaning being imparted to the listeners--but this was in the "good oldtimes"!

[Illustration: CONISTON. ]

We had to listen to another version of the story of the two Calgarthskulls, from which it appeared that the Phillipsons wanted a piece ofland that belonged to Dorothy, the wife of Kraster Cook, who refused tosell it, although asked repeatedly to do so. Myles Phillipson swore hewould have that land "be they alive or dead. " After a quiet interval heinvited Kraster and his wife Dorothy to a feast, and afterwards accusedthem of stealing a silver cup. This they strongly denied, but the cupwas found in their house, where it had been purposely hidden by thesquire's orders. Stealing was at that time a capital offence, and asPhillipson was the magistrate he sentenced them both to death. In thecourt-room Dorothy arose, and, glaring at the magistrate, said loudly, "Guard thyself, Myles Phillipson. Thou thinkest thou hast managedgrandly; but that tiny lump of land is the dearest a Phillipson has everbought or stolen; for you will never prosper, neither your breed:whatever scheme you undertake will wither in your hand; the side youtake will always lose; the time shall come when no Phillipson will ownone inch of land; and while Calgarth walls shall stand, we'll haunt itnight and day--never will ye be rid of us. " They were both executed andtheir property appropriated, but ever afterwards the Phillipsons had twoskulls for their guests. They were found at Christmas at the head of astairway; they were buried in a distant region, but they turned up inthe old house again; they were brazed to dust and cast to the wind; theywere several years sunk in the lake; but the Phillipsons never could getrid of them. Meanwhile old Dorothy's prophecy came true, and the familyof Phillipson came to poverty and eventually disappeared. 

We left Hawkshead by a road leading to Ulverston, for we had decided tovisit Furness Abbey. Had the weather been fine and clear, we should havehad some splendid views, since we had Windermere on one side andConiston Water on the other; but the showers continued, and we could noteven see the "Coniston Old Man, " although he raised his head to theheight of 2, 577 feet above sea-level. We were, in fact, passing throughthe district of Seathwaite, where the rainfall is very much heavier thanin any other district in England. We consoled ourselves, however, withthe thought that we could not expect to see fine lakes in a land wherethere was no rainfall, and after walking a considerable distance in thedarkness, two weary and rain-soddened pedestrians took refuge for theremainder of the night in the well-appointed Temperance Hotel atUlverston. 

(_Distance walked twenty-four and a half miles_. )

_Wednesday, October 18th. _

Ulverston has been described as the "Key to the Lake District, " andSwartmoor, which adjoined the town, took its name from a German--ColonelMartin Swart---to whom the Duchess of Burgundy in 1486 gave the commandof about 2, 000 Flemish troops sent to support the pretended title ofLambert Simnel to the Crown of England. He landed in Ireland, where agreat number of the Irish joined him, and then, crossing over toEngland, landed in Furness and marshalled his troops on the moor whichstill bears his name, and where he was joined by many otherconspirators. They encountered the forces of King Henry VII nearNewark-on-Trent in June 1487, and after a stubborn fight were defeated, 4, 000 men, with all their commanders, being killed. 

Ulverston is also associated with George Fox, the founder of the Societyof Friends. He was born in 1624, at Drayton-on-the-Clay, inLeicestershire, and in 1650 was imprisoned at Derby for speaking"publickly" in a church after Divine Service, and bidding thecongregation to "_tremble at the Word of God_. " This expression wasturned into one of ridicule, and caused the Society of Friends all overthe kingdom to be known as "Quakers. " Fox preached throughout thecountry, and even visited America. When he came to Ulverston, hepreached at Swartmoor Hall, where he converted Judge Fell and his wife, after which meetings at the Hall were held regularly. The judge died in1658, and in 1669, eleven years after her husband's death, Mrs. Fell, who suffered much on account of her religion, married George Fox, who in1688 built the Meeting-house at Ulverston. He died two yearsafterwards, aged sixty-seven years, at White Hart Court, London, andwas buried in Banhill Fields. 

Leaving our bags at the hotel, we walked to Furness Abbey, which, according to an old record, was founded by King Stephen in 1127 in the"Vale of the Deadly Nightshade. " It was one of the first to surrender toKing Henry VIII at the dissolution of the monasteries, and the Deed ofSurrender, dated April 9th, 1537, was still in existence, by which theabbey and all its belongings were assigned to the King by the Abbot, Roger Pile, who in exchange for his high position agreed to accept theliving of Dalton, one of his own benefices, valued at that time at £40per year. The Common Seal of the abbey was attached to the document, andrepresented the Virgin Mary standing in the centre of the circle withthe Infant in her left arm and a globe in her right hand. She stoodbetween two shields of arms, which were suspended by bundles ofnightshade, and on each of which were represented the three Lions ofEngland, each shield being supported from the bottom by a monk in hisfull dress and cowl. In the foreground in front of each monk was a plantof the deadly nightshade, and over his head a sprig of the same, whilein the lower part was the figure of a wivern--_i. E. _ a viper or dragonwith a serpent-like tail--this being the device of Thomas Plantagenet, the second Earl of Lancaster, who was highly esteemed by the monks. Wedid not notice any nightshade plant either in or near the ruins of theabbey, but it was referred to in Stell's description of Becan-Gill asfollows:

 _Hæc vallis unuit olim sibi nomen ab herba Bekan, qua virtuit dulcis nune, tune sed acerbe; unde Domus nomen Bekangs-Gille claruit. _

[Illustration: FURNESS ABBEY]

Although my brother could repeat the first two rules in the LatinGrammar with their examples, one of which he said meant "The way togood manners is never too late, " he would not attempt the Englishtranslation of these Latin words. 

We were the only visitors then at the abbey, no doubt owing to the badstate of the weather, and we were surprised at the extent andmagnificence of the ruins and the ponderous walls and archways, withtheir fine ornamentations, impressive reminders of their past greatness. In order to get a better view we mounted the adjoining hill, from whichwe could see a portion of the rising town of Barrow-in-Furness. Wereturned by the footpath alongside the railway, and entered intoconversation with a man who was standing on the line. He informed usthat he was the ganger, or foreman, over the plate-layers on therailway, and that at one time he had lived in Manchester. He also saidhe had joined the Good Templars, who were making headway inBarrow-in-Furness, where he now resided. 

Just before reaching the main road we were somewhat startled to see arailway train quite near the abbey ruins, and the thought of home, sweethome, accentuated by the rainy weather, came so strongly upon us that weasked ourselves the question, "Shall we give in and go home!" We wereonly the length of one county away, and about to make a long detour toavoid going near, yet here was the train waiting that would convey usthither. What a temptation! But for the circumstance that we had leftour bags at Ulverston our story might have ended here. 

Some of the streams over which we passed on our way were quite red incolour, and the puddles on the muddy roads were just like dark redpaint, indicating the presence of iron ore. We saw several miners, whotold us that they got the ore (known as haematite, or iron oxide) at adepth of from 90 to 100 yards, working by candle-light, and that theyreceived about 2s. 6d. Per ton as the product of their labour. The ore, it seemed, filled up large cavities in the mountain limestone. It wasabout one o'clock by the time we reached Ulverston again, and we werequite ready for the good lunch which had been prepared for us. 

[Illustration: THE NORTH TRANSEPT, FURNESS ABBEY. ]

Leaving Ulverston, we passed the old parish church and entered apicturesque footpath quite appropriately named the Lover's Walk andcovered with fine trees, through which we had glimpses of Morecambe Bay;but the lovers had been either driven away by the rain or we were tooearly in the day for them to take their walks abroad. We mounted theHoad Hill to inspect a lofty monument which had been erected on the topin the year 1850, in memory of Sir John Barrow. Sir John, the founder ofthe great works at Barrow-in-Furness (afterwards Vickers, Sons & Maxim), the noise of which we had heard in the distance, was a native of thedistrict, having been born in a small cottage near Ulverston in 1764. Hetravelled in China and South Africa, and in 1804 became Secretary to theAdmiralty, a position he held for forty years, during which he took partin fitting out Lord Nelson's fleet for the Battle of Trafalgar. He alsoassisted in promoting the expedition to the Arctic Regions which wascommanded by Sir John Franklin. We were informed that his favouritesaying was: "A man's riches consist not so much in his possessions as inthe fewness of his wants"--a saying we were glad to adopt for ourselves. 

We passed through the entrance to the monument, but could see no oneabout. On a desk in the entrance-room lay a Visitors' Book, in which wewrote our names, and then ascended to the top of the monument by arather dangerous staircase of over a hundred steps. As the well of thetower was open from top to bottom the ascent and descent were very riskyfor nervous people, and we felt thankful when we reached the foot of thestaircase safely, though disappointed because the weather had preventedour enjoying the splendid view from the top that we had anticipated. Aswe were leaving the monument we met an old man who had charge of it, carrying some large mushrooms, which he told us he had seen from the topof the monument, and very fine ones they were too. 

[Illustration: ULVERSTON, BARROWS MONUMENT IN THE DISTANCE. ]

But we are forgetting to mention that we had passed throughDalton--formerly the capital of Furness--where George Romney, thecelebrated painter, was born in 1734. West, the inventor of the keybugle, the forerunner of the modern cornet, was also a native ofDalton-in-Furness. As the days were rapidly becoming shorter and thegloomy weather made them appear shorter still, it was growing quite darkwhen we called for tea at a village inn, the sign on which informed usthat it was "Clarke's Arms, " and where we were very quickly served inthe parlour. During our tea a tall, haggard-looking man, whose handswere trembling and whose eyes were bloodshot, entered the room, andasked us to have a glass each with him at his expense, saying, "I'mdrunken Jim Topping as 'as had aw that heap o' money left him. " Hepressed us very hard again and again to have the drink, but we showedhim the tea we were drinking, and we felt relieved when the landlordcame in and persuaded him to go into the other room, where we soon heardan uproarious company helping "Jim" to spend his "heap o' money" and tohasten him into eternity. The landlord afterwards informed us that"Drunken Jim" was a stonemason by trade, and that a relation of his hadjust died, leaving him £80, 000, as well as some property. 

[Illustration: SIR JOHN BARROW'S MONUMENT. ]

It was dark when we left the inn, and about a mile farther, on theKendal road, we saw, apparently crossing the road, a large number ofglowworms, which, owing to the darkness of the night, showed to the bestadvantage. So numerous were they that we had great difficulty in gettingover them, for we did not wish to crush any under our feet. We had neverseen more than two or three together before, so it was quite a novelsight for us to find so many in one place. Presently we arrived at theentrance to a small village, where our attention was arrested by a greatnoise in a building a little distance from the road. The sound ofjuvenile voices predominated, and as my brother was a great lover ofchildren, and especially of girls, as illustrated by a remark he waspartial to--"Girls and flowers are the nicest things that heaven sendsus"--we must needs stop and see what was going on. Climbing up somesteps and passing under some trees, we found, as we had surmised, thevillage school. After looking through the windows we entered theschoolroom, whereupon the noise immediately ceased. We ascertained thatit was the village choir awaiting the arrival of the schoolmistress toteach them the hymns to be sung in the church on the following Sunday. My brother insisted that he had come to teach the choir that night, andwent at once to the harmonium, which was unfortunately locked. He saidhe would no doubt be able to go on without it, and, having arranged thechoir in order, was just about to commence operations when who shouldcome in but the schoolmistress herself, causing us to beat a ratherhasty retreat. We groped our way under the trees again and down thesteps, and were quite surprised when suddenly we found ourselves closeto a comfortable inn where we could be accommodated for the night. Aftersupper we retired to rest, wondering whether we were to pass the nightin Lancashire or Westmorland, for we had no idea where we were, and, strange to say, we forgot to ask the name of the place when we left inthe morning. 

(_Distance walked nineteen miles_. )

_Thursday, October 19th. _

We left the inn at eight o'clock in the morning, but the weather stillcontinued very rainy, and we had often to seek shelter on our way owingto the heavy showers. Presently we came to a huge heap of charcoal, andwere about to shelter near it when we were told that it was part of thegunpowder works in the rear, so we hurried away as fast as we couldwalk, for we did not relish the possibility of being blown into millionsof atoms. When we reached what we thought was a fairly safe distance, wetook refuge in an outbuilding belonging to a small establishment forsmelting iron, and here we were joined by another wayfarer, shelteringlike ourselves from the rain, which was coming down in torrents. He toldus about the stonemason who had recently had the fortune left to him, but he said the amount mentioned in the newspaper was £40, 000 and not£80, 000, as we had been informed. He wished the money had been left tohim, as he thought he could have put it to better use, for he had beenan abstainer from intoxicating drinks for twelve years, whereas the manwith the fortune, who at the moment was drinking in a beerhouse closeby, had no appetite for eating and would soon drink himself to death. What the fate of poor "Jim Topping" was we never knew, but we could nothelp feeling sorry for him, as he seemed to us one of those good-naturedfellows who are nobody's enemy but their own. The man told us that Jimwas a heavy drinker before he had the fortune left him. He surmised thatthe place we had stopped at last night was Haverthwaite in Lancashire. We saw a book of poems written in the Cumberland dialect, and copied thefirst and last verses of one that was about a Robin Redbreast:

 REED ROBIN

 Come into mey cabin, reed Robin! Threyce welcome, blithe warbler, to me! Noo Siddaw hes thrown a wheyte cap on, Agean I'll gie shelter to thee! Come, freely hop into mey pantry; Partake o' mey puir holsome fare; Tho' seldom I bwoast of a dainty. Yet meyne, man or burd sal aye share. 

 * * * * *

 O whoar is thy sweetheart, reed Robin? Gae bring her frae hoosetop or tree: I'll bid her be true to sweet Robin, For fause was a fav'rite to me. You'll share iv'ry crumb i' mey cabin, We'll sing the weyld winter away-- I winna deceive ye, puir burdies! Let mortals use me as they may. 

On leaving our shelter, we passed a large mill, apparently deserted, andsoon afterwards reached Newby Bridge, where we crossed the River Leven, which was rapidly conveying the surplus water from Windermere towardsthe sea. Near this was a large hotel, built to accommodate stage-coachtraffic, but rendered unnecessary since the railway had been cut, andconsequently now untenanted. We had already crossed the bridge at thehead of Lake Windermere, and now had reached the bridge at the otherend. An old book, published in 1821, gave us the following interestinginformation about the lake:

 It was at one time thought to be unfathomable, but on the third and fourth of June, 1772, when the water was six feet below its greatest known height, and three feet above the lowest ebb, a trial was made to ascertain by soundings the depth and form of the lake. Its greatest depth was found to be near Ecclesrigg Crag--201 feet. The bottom of the lake in the middle stream is a smooth rock; in many places the sides are perpendicular, and in some places they continue so for a mile without interruption. It abounds with fish, and the Rivers Brathay and Rothay feed the lake at the upper end, and in the breeding-season the trout ascend the Rothay, and the char the Brathay only; but in the winter, when these fish are in season, they come into the shallows, where they are fished for in the night, at which time they are the more easily driven into the nets. 

We now turned along an old coach road which crossed the hills overCartmel Fell to Kendal, and appeared to be very little used. Our roadclimbed steadily for about two miles, when suddenly there came a brightinterval between the showers, and we had a magnificent view of a portionof Lake Windermere, with a steamboat leaving the landing-stage nearNewby Bridge. We stood, as it were, riveted to the spot; but anothershower coming on, the view vanished like a dream, though it lastedsufficiently long to bring us encouragement and to cheer us upon our wetand lonely way. The showers seemed as full of water as ever they couldhold, and sheltering-places were by no means plentiful. Sometimessheltering behind trees and sometimes in farm buildings, we proceededbut slowly, and about eight miles from Kendal we halted for lunch at asmall inn, where we found cover for so long a time that, after walkingabout three miles from that town, we called at another inn for tea. Itwas astonishing how well we were received and provided for at thesesmall inns in the country. Every attention was given to us, a firelighted to dry our coats, and the best food the place could provide wasbrought on to the table. We were shown into the parlour, and the bestcups and saucers were brought out from the corner cupboards. 

The temperance movement appeared to be permeating the most unlikelyplaces, and we were astonished to find the crockery here painted withtemperance signs and mottoes, including a temperance star, and thewords "Be them faithful unto death. " This seemed all the more remarkablewhen we saw that the sign on the inn was the "Punch Bowl. " The rain hadapparently been gradually clearing off, while we were at tea, but itcame on again soon after we left the comfortable shelter of the inn, sowe again took refuge--this time in the house of a tollgate, where we hada long talk with the keeper. He pointed out a road quite near us whichhad been made so that vehicles could get past the toll-bar on their wayto and from Kendal without going through the gates and paying toll. Thishad been constructed by a landowner for the use of himself and histenants. As a retort the toll people had erected a stump at each side ofthe entrance, apparently with the object of placing a chain across theroad, and had also erected a wooden hut to shelter a special toll-keeperwho only attended on Kendal market days. Some mischievous persons, however, had overturned the hut, and we did not envy the man who on aday like this had to attend here to collect tolls without any shelter toprotect him from the elements. Tollgates and turnpikes were ancientinstitutions on the British roads, and in many places were in the handsof Turnpike Trusts, who often rented the tolls to outsiders and appliedthe rent chiefly to the repair of the roads. A fixed charge was made oncattle and vehicles passing through the gates, and the vehicles werecharged according to the number of animals and wheels attached to them, a painted table of tolls being affixed to the tollhouse. The gates werekept closed, and were only opened when vehicles and cattle arrived, andafter payment of the charges. There was no charge made to pedestrians, for whom a small gate or turnstile was provided at the side nearest thetollhouse. The contractors who rented the tolls had to depend for theirprofit or loss upon the total amount of the tolls collected minus theamount of rent paid and toll-keepers' wages. Towards the close of theTrusts the railways had made such inroads upon the traffic passing byroad that it was estimated that the cost of collection of tolls amountedto 50 per cent. Of the total sum collected. 

The tollgate-keeper informed us that Dick Turpin, the highwayman, neverpaid any tolls, for no collector dare ask him for payment, and if thegate was closed, "Black Bess, " his favourite mare, jumped over it. 

He had a lot to tell us about Furness Abbey. He knew that it had beenbuilt by King Stephen, and he said that not far from it there was a parkcalled Oxen Park, where the king kept his oxen, and that he had also aStirk Park. 

He asked us if we had seen the small and very old church of CartmelFell, and when we told him we had not, he said that travellers who didnot know its whereabouts often missed seeing it, for, although not farfrom the road, it was hidden from view by a bank or small mound, andthere was a legend that some traveller, saint, or hermit who slept onthe bank dreamed that he must build a church between two rivers runningin opposite directions. He travelled all the world over, but could notfind any place where the rivers ran in opposite directions, so he cameback disappointed, only to find the rivers were quite near the place hestarted from. The church was of remote antiquity, and was dedicated toSt. Anthony, the patron saint of wild boars and of wild beastsgenerally; but who built the church, and where the rivers were to befound, did not transpire. 

We had carried our mackintoshes all the way from John o' Groat's, andthey had done us good service; but the time had now arrived when theyhad become comparatively useless, so, after thanking the keeper of thetollhouse for allowing us to shelter there, we left them with him asrelics of the past. The great objection to these waterproofs was thatthough they prevented the moisture coming inwards, they also preventedit going outwards, and the heat and perspiration generated by theexertion of walking soon caused us to be as wet as if we had worn noprotection at all. Of course we always avoided standing in a cold windor sitting in a cold room, and latterly we had preferred getting wetthrough to wearing them. 

We arrived in Kendal in good time, and stayed at the temperance hotel. In the town we purchased two strong but rather rustic-looking umbrellas, without tassels or gold or silver handles--for umbrellas in the rainyregion of the "North Countrie" were wanted for use and not for ornament. We found them quite an agreeable change from the overalls. Of course weheld them up skilfully, and as we thought almost scientifically, whenwalking in the rain, and it was astonishing how well they protected uswhen holding them towards the same side and angle as the falling rain. Many people we met were holding them straight up, and looking quitehappy, reminding us of the ostrich when hunted and hard pressed, hidingits head in the sand and imagining that its body was covered also! Thedraper who sold us the umbrellas told us that Professor Kirk, whom wehad heard in Edinburgh, was to deliver an address in the evening on theGood Templar Movement, so we decided to attend. The Professor, a goodspeaker, informed us that there were between five and six hundredmembers of the Order in Kendal. Mr. Edward Dawson of Lancaster alsoaddressed the meeting, and told us there were about three hundredmembers in Lancaster, while the Professor estimated the number inScotland at between fifty and sixty thousand. It was quite a newmovement, which had its origin apparently in America, and was becomingthe prevailing subject of conversation in the country we travelledthrough. 

[Illustration: KENDAL CASTLE. ]

Kendal was an ancient place, having been made a market town by licencefrom Richard Coeur de Lion. Philippa, the Queen of Edward III, wiselyinvited some Flemings to settle there and establish the manufacture ofwoollen cloth, which they did. Robin Hood and his "merrie men" weresaid to have been clothed in Kendal Green, a kind of leafy green whichmade the wearers of it scarcely distinguishable from the foliage andvegetation of the forests which in Robin Hood's time covered the greaterpart of the country. Lincoln Green was an older cloth of pure Englishmanufacture. 

Robin Hood was the outlawed Earl of Huntingdon, and Shakespeare makesFalstaff say--

 All the woods Are full of outlaws that in Kendal Green Followed the outlawed Earl of Huntingdon. 

Catherine Parr was born at Kendal, and an old writer, noting that shewas the last Queen of Henry VIII, added, "a lady who had the goodfortune to descend to the grave with her head on, in all probabilitymerely by outliving her tyrant. " This beautiful and highly accomplishedwoman had already been married twice, and after the King's death took afourth husband. She narrowly escaped being burnt, for the King hadalready signed her death-warrant and delivered it to the LordChancellor, who dropped it by accident, and the person who found itcarried it to the Queen herself. She was actually in conversation withthe King when the Lord Chancellor came to take her to the Tower, forwhich the King called him a knave and a fool, bidding him "Avaunt frommy presence. " The Queen interceded for the Chancellor; but the Kingsaid, "Ah, poor soul, thou little knowest what _he_ came about; of myword, sweetheart, he has been to thee a very knave. "

[Illustration: KENDAL CHURCH. ]

Kendal possessed a fine old church, in one of the aisles of which wassuspended a helmet said to have belonged to Major Phillipson, whosefamily was haunted by the two skulls, and who was nicknamed byCromwell's men "Robert the Devil" because of his reckless and daringdeeds. The Phillipsons were great Royalists, and Colonel Briggs ofKendal, who was an active commander in the Parliamentary Army, hearingthat the major was on a visit to his brother, whose castle was on theBelle Isle in Lake Windermere, resolved to besiege him there; butalthough the siege continued for eight months, it proved ineffectual. When the war was over, Major Phillipson resolved to be avenged, and heand some of his men rode over to Kendal one Sunday morning expecting tofind Colonel Briggs in the church, and either to kill him or take himprisoner there. Major Phillipson rode into the church on horseback, butthe colonel was not there. The congregation, much surprised and annoyedat this intrusion, surrounded the major, and, cutting the girths, unhorsed him. On seeing this, the major's party made a furious attack onthe assailants, and the major killed with his own hand the man who hadseized him, and, placing the ungirthed saddle on his horse, vaulted intoit and rode through the streets of Kendal calling upon his men to followhim, which they did, and the whole party escaped to their safe resort inthe Lake of Windermere. 

This incident furnished Sir Walter Scott with materials for a similaradventure in "Rokeby, " canto vi. :

 All eyes upon the gateway hung. When through the Gothic arch there sprung A horseman arm'd, at headlong speed-- Sable his cloak, his plume, his steed. Fire from the flinty floor was spurn'd. The vaults unwonted clang return'd!-- One instant's glance around he threw, From saddle-bow his pistol drew. Grimly determined was his look! His charger with the spurs he strook-- All scatter'd backward as he came, For all knew Bertram Risingham! Three bounds that noble courser gave; The first has reach'd the central nave, The second clear'd the chancel wide. The third--he was at Wycliffe's side. 

 * * * * *

 While yet the smoke the deed conceals, Bertram his ready charger wheels; But flounder'd on the pavement-floor The steed, and down the rider bore, And, bursting in the headlong sway. The faithless saddle-girths gave way. 'Twas while he toil'd him to be freed. And with the rein to raise the steed. That from amazement's iron trance All Wycliffe's soldiers waked at once. 

(_Distance walked fifteen miles_. )

_Friday, October 20th. _

We left Kendal before breakfast, as we were becoming anxious aboutmaintaining our average of twenty-five miles per day, for we had onlywalked nineteen miles on Wednesday and fifteen miles yesterday, and wehad written to our friends some days before saying that we hoped toreach York Minster in time for the services there on Sunday. 

[Illustration: KIRKBY LONSDALE CHURCH. ]

In the meantime we had decided to visit Fountains Abbey, so, crossingthe River Kent, we walked nine miles along a hilly road over the fells, which were about 800 feet above sea-level. We stopped at a place calledOld Town for breakfast, for which our walk through the sharp clear airon the fells had given us an amazing appetite. We then walked quicklydown the remaining three miles to Kirkby Lonsdale, passing on our waythe beautiful grounds and residence of the Earl of Bective. At theentrance to the town we came to the school, and as the master happenedto be standing at the door, we took the opportunity of asking him someparticulars about Kirkby Lonsdale and our farther way to FountainsAbbey. He was a native of Scotland, and gave us some useful and reliableinformation, being greatly interested in the object of our journey. Wefound Kirkby Lonsdale to be quite a nice old-fashioned town with achurch dedicated to St. Mary--a sign, we thought, of its antiquity; theinterior had been recently restored by the Earl of Bective at a cost ofabout £11, 000. An old board hanging up in the church related to one ofthe porches, on which was painted a crest and shield with the date 1668, and the following words in old English letters:

 This porch by y' Banes first builded was, (Of Heighholme Hall they weare, ) And after sould to Christopher Wood By William Banes thereof last heyre. And is repayred as you do see And sett in order good By the true owner nowe thereof The foresaid Christopher Wood. 

There was also painted in the belfry a rhyming list of the "ringers'orders":

 If to ring ye do come here, You must ring well with hand and ear; Keep stroke and time and go not out, Or else you'll forfeit without doubt. He that a bell doth overthrow Must pay a groat before he go; He that rings with his hat on, Must pay his groat and so begone. 

 He that rings with spur on heel, The same penalty he must feel. If an oath you chance to hear, You forfeit each two quarts of beer. These lines are old, they are not new. Therefore the ringers must have their due. 

 _N. B. _--Any ringer entering a peal of six pays his shilling. 

The first two lines greatly interested my brother, whose quick ear coulddistinguish defects when they occurred in the ringing of church bells, and he often remarked that no ringer should be appointed unless he had agood ear for music. 

There were one or two old-fashioned inns in the town, which looked veryquaint, and Kirkby Old Hall did duty for one of them, being referred toby the rhymester "Honest" or "Drunken Barnaby" in his Latin Itinerary ofhis "Travels in the North":

 I came to Lonsdale, where I staid At Hall, into a tavern made. Neat gates, white walls--nought was sparing, Pots brimful--no thought of caring; They eat, drink, laugh; are still mirth-making, Nought they see that's worth care-taking. 

The men of the North were always warlike, and when in the year 1688, inthe time of James II, a rumour was circulated that a large French Armyhad landed on the coast of Yorkshire, a great number of men assembled onthe outskirts of the town and were waiting there ready for the call toarms, when news came that it was a false alarm. Of course this event hadto be recorded by the local poet, who wrote:

 In eighty-eight, was Kirby feight. When nivver a man was slain; They ate the'r mey't, an' drank the'r drink, An' sae com' merrily heame again. 

We were sorry we could not stay longer in the neighbourhood of KirkbyLonsdale, as the scenery in both directions along the valley of theRiver Lune was very beautiful. As we crossed the bridge over it wenoticed an old stone inscribed:

 Fear God Honer the King 1633, and some other words which we could not decipher. The bridge was rathernarrow, and at some unknown period had replaced a ford, which was at alltimes difficult to cross, and often dangerous, and at flood-times quiteimpassable, as the river here ran between rocks and across greatboulders; it was, however, the only ready access to the country beyondfor people living in Kirkby Lonsdale. One morning the inhabitants awoketo find a bridge had been built across this dangerous ford during thenight, and since no one knew who had built it, its erection wasattributed to his Satanic Majesty, and it was ever afterwards known asthe Devil's Bridge. 

The bridge was very narrow, and, although consisting of three arches, one wide and the others narrow, and being 180 feet long, it was lessthan twelve feet wide, and had been likened to Burns' Auld Brig o' Ayr, With your poor narrow footpath of a street. Where twa wheelbarrows tremble when they meet. 

The country people had a tradition that it was built in windy weather bythe Devil, who, having only one apron full of stones, and the breakingof one of his apron-strings causing him to lose some of them as he flewover Casterton Fell, he had only enough left to build a narrow bridge. 

[Illustration: DEVIL'S BRIDGE, KIRKBY LONSDALE. ]

Another legend states that "Once upon a time there lived a queer oldwoman whose cow and pony pastured across the river and had to cross iton their way to and from home. The old woman was known as a great cheat. One dark and wet night she heard her cow bellow, and knew that she wassafely across the ford; but as the pony only whined, she thought that hewas being carried away by the flood. She began to cry, when suddenly theDevil appeared, and agreed to put up a bridge that night on conditionsnamed in the legend:

 "To raise a bridge I will agree. That in the morning you shall see. But mine for aye the first must be That passes over. So by these means you'll soon be able To bring the pony to his stable. The cow her clover. "

 In vain were sighs and wailings vented, As she at last appeared contented. It was a bargain--she consented-- For she was Yorkshire. Now home she goes in mighty glee. Old Satan, too, well pleased he Went to his work, sir. 

He worked hard all night, and early in the morning the bridge was made, as the old woman knew by the terrible noise. He called to the old womanto come over, but she brought her little mangy dog, and, taking a bunout of her pocket, threw it over the bridge. The dog ran over after it. 

 "Now--crafty sir, the bargain was That you should have what first did pass Across the bridge--so now--alas! The dog's your right. " The cheater--cheated--struck with shame. Squinted and grinned: then, in a flame He vanished quite. 

[Illustration: EBBING AND FLOWING WELL. ]

On reflection we came to the conclusion that whenever and however it wasbuilt, the bridge was of a type not uncommon in Cheshire, and oftencalled Roman bridges, but erected in all probability in mediæval times, when only width enough was required for the passing of one horse--inother words, when most roads were nothing but bridlepaths. We were gladof the assistance afforded by the bridge for the rushing waters of theRiver Lune were swollen by the heavy rains, and our progress in thatdirection would have been sadly delayed had we arrived there in the timeof the ancient ford. We now passed the boundaries of Lancashire andWestmorland and entered the county of York, the largest in England. Alarge sale of cattle was taking place that day at a farm near thebridge, and for some miles we met buyers on their way to the sale, eachof whom gave us the friendly greeting customary in the hilly districtsof that hospitable county. Seven miles from Kirkby Lonsdale we stoppedat Ingleton for some dinner, and just looked inside the church to seethe fine old Norman font standing on small pillars and finely sculpturedwith scenes relating chiefly to the childhood of our Saviour. Josephwith his carpenter's tools and the Virgin Mary seated with the infantSaviour on her knees, the Eastern Magi bringing their offerings, Herodgiving orders for the destruction of the young children, Rachel weeping, and others--all damaged in the course of centuries, though still givingone an idea of the great beauty of the font when originally placed inposition. We heard about the many waterfalls to be seen--perhaps as manyas could be visited in the course of a whole week; but we had seen--andsuffered--so much water and so many waterfalls, that for the time beingthey formed no attraction. Still we resolved to see more of thisinteresting neighbourhood on a future occasion. 

Passing through Clapham, said to be one of the finest villages inEngland, and where there was a cave supposed to run about half a mileunderground, we came to some fine limestone cliffs to the left of ourroad, which were nearly white as we approached nearer to the town ofSettle, situated at the foot of Giggleswick Scar, alongside which ourroad passed. We visited the Ebbing and Flowing Well, where the much-wornstones around it proclaimed the fact that for many ages pilgrims hadvisited its shrine; but how "Nevison's Nick, " a famous highwayman, couldhave ridden his horse up the face of the rock leading up to it--evenwith the aid of his magic bridle--was more than we could understand. Another legend stated that a nymph pursued by a satyr was so afraid thathe would overtake her that she prayed to the gods to change her into aspring. Her prayer was granted, and the ebbs and flows in the water weresupposed to represent the panting of the nymph in her flight. 

[Illustration: THE MARKET-PLACE, SETTLE. ]

We turned aside to visit Giggleswick village, with its old cross, whichseemed to be nearly complete, and we found the old church veryinteresting. It contained some ancient monuments, one of whichrepresented Sir Richard Temple, born 1425, knighted at the Battle ofWakefield, 1460, attainted for treason 1461, pardoned by King Edward IV, and died 1488, the head of his charger being buried with him. There wasalso the tomb of Samuel Watson, the "old Quaker, " who interrupted theservice in the church in 1659, when the people "brok his head upon yeseates. " Then there was the famous Grammar School, a very old foundationdating back to early in the sixteenth century. We were delighted withour visit to Giggleswick, and, crossing the old bridge over the RiverRibble, here but a small stream, we entered the town of Settle andcalled for tea at Thistlethwaite's Tea and Coffee Rooms. There wereseveral small factories in the neighbourhood. We noticed that a concerthad recently been held in the town in aid of a fund for presenting alifeboat to the National Society, one having already been given by thistown for use on the stormy coasts of the Island of Anglesey. 

[Illustration: GIGGLESWICK CHURCH. ]

Leaving Settle by the Skipton road, we had gone about a mile when we mettwo men who informed us we were going a long way round either for Riponor York. They said an ancient road crossed the hills towards York, andthat after we had climbed the hill at the back of the town we should seethe road running straight for fourteen miles. This sounded all right, and as the new moon was now shining brightly, for it was striking sixo'clock as we left the town, we did not fear being lost amongst thehills, although they rose to a considerable height. Changing our course, we climbed up a very steep road and crossed the moors, passing a smallwaterfall; but whether we were on or off the ancient road we had nomeans of ascertaining, for we neither saw nor met any one on the way, nor did we see any house until we reached the ancient-looking village ofKirby Malham. Here we got such very voluminous directions as to the wayto Malham that neither of us could remember them beyond the first turn, but we reached that village at about ten o'clock. We asked the solitaryinhabitant who had not retired to rest where we could find lodgings forthe night. He pointed out a house at the end of the "brig" with the word"Temperance" on it in large characters, which we could see easily as themoon had not yet disappeared, and told us it belonged to the villagesmith, who accommodated visitors. All was in darkness inside the house, but we knocked at the door with our heavy sticks, and this soon broughtthe smith to one of the upper windows. In reply to our question, "Can weget a bed for the night?" he replied in the Yorkshire dialect, "Ourfolks are all in bed, but I'll see what they say. " Then he closed thewindow, and all was quiet except the water, which was running fast underthe "brig, " and which we found afterwards was the River Aire, as yetonly a small stream. We waited and waited for what seemed to us a verylong time, and were just beginning to think the smith had fallen asleepagain, when we heard the door being unbolted, and a young man appearedwith a light in his hand, bidding us "Come in, " which we were mightyglad to do, and to find ourselves installed in a small but verycomfortable room. "You will want some supper, " he said; and we assuredhim it was quite true, for we had not had anything to eat or drink sincewe left Settle, and, moreover, we had walked thirty-five miles that day, through fairly hilly country. In a short time he reappeared with a quartof milk and an enormous apple pie, which we soon put out of sight; butwas milk ever so sweet or apple pie ever so good! Forty-five years havepassed away since then, but the memory still remains; and the sweetsleep that followed--the rest of the weary--what of that?

(_Distance walked thirty-five miles_. )

_Saturday, October 21st. _

One great advantage of staying the night in the country was that we weresure of getting an early breakfast, for the inns had often farmsattached to them, and the proprietors and their servants were up earlyto attend to their cattle. This custom of early rising also affected thebusiness of the blacksmiths, for the farmers' horses requiring attentionto their shoes were always sent down early to the village smithy inorder that they could be attended to in time to turn out to their workon the roads or in the fields at their usual hour. Accordingly we wereroused from our sound slumber quite early in the morning, and were gladto take advantage of this to walk as far as possible in daylight, forthe autumn was fast coming to a close. Sometimes we started on our walkbefore breakfast, when we had a reasonable prospect of obtaining itwithin the compass of a two-hours' journey, but Malham was a secludedvillage, with no main road passing through it, and it was surrounded bymoors on every side. 

There were several objects of interest in Malham which we were told werewell worth seeing: Malham Cove, Janet's Foss or Gennetth's Cave, andGordale Scar. The first of these we resolved to see before breakfast. We therefore walked along a path which practically followed the courseof the stream that passed under the brig, and after a fine walk of aboutthree-quarters of a mile through the grass patches, occasionallyrelieved by bushes and trees, we reached the famous cove. Here ourfarther way was barred by an amphitheatre of precipitous limestone rocksof a light grey colour, rising perpendicularly to the height of about200 feet, which formed the cove itself. From the base of these rocks, along a horizontal bedding plane and at one particular spot, issued thestream along which we had walked, forming the source of the River Aire, which flows through Skipton and on to Leeds, the curious feature aboutit being that there was no visible aperture in the rocks, neither archnor hole, from which it could come. The water appeared to gain volumefrom the loose stones under our feet, and as we had not seen a sightlike this in all our travels, we were much surprised to find it formingitself immediately into a fair-sized brook. We gazed upwards to the topof the rocks, which were apparently unprotected, and wondered what thefate would be of the lost traveller who unconsciously walked over them, as there seemed nothing except a few small bushes, in one place only, tobreak his fall. We heard afterwards of a sorrowful accident that hadhappened there. It related to a young boy who one day, taking his littlebrother with him for company, went to look for birds' nests. On reachingthe cove they rambled to the top of the cliff, where the elder boy saw abird's nest, to which he went while his little brother waited for him ata distance, watching him taking the eggs. All at once he saw him stoopdown to gather some flowers to bring to him, and then disappear. Hewaited some time expecting his brother to return, but as he did notcome back the little fellow decided to go home. On the way he gatheredsome flowers, which he gleefully showed to his father, who asked himwhere he had got them, and where his brother was. The child said he hadgone to sleep, and he had tried to waken him but couldn't; and when hetold the full story, the father became greatly alarmed, and, taking hischild with him, went to the foot of the cliffs, where he found his sonlying dead where he had fallen, with the flowers still clasped in hishand!

[Illustration: MALHAM COVE. ]

We were afterwards told that above the cliff and a few miles up a valleya great stream could be seen disappearing quietly down into the rock. Itwas this stream presumably which lost itself in a subterranean channel, to reappear at the foot of Malham Cove. 

After breakfast we again resumed our journey, and went to inspectJanet's Cave or Foss--for our host told us that it was no use coming tosee a pretty place like Malham without viewing all the sights we couldwhile we were there. We walked up a lovely little glen, where it wassaid a fairy once resided, and which if it had been placed elsewherewould certainly have been described as the Fairy Glen; but whether ornot Janet was the name of the fairy we did not ascertain. In it we cameto a pretty little waterfall dropping down from one step to another, thestream running from it being as clear as crystal. The rocks were linedwith mosses, which had become as fleecy-looking as wool, as they werealmost petrified by the continual dropping of the spray from thelime-impregnated water that fell down the rocks. There were quite avariety of mosses and ferns, but the chief of the climbing plants waswhat Dickens described "as the rare old plant, the ivy green, " which notonly clung to the rocks, but had overshadowed them by climbing up thetrees above. To see the small dark cave it was necessary to cross thestream in front of the waterfall, and here stepping-stones had beenprovided for that purpose, but, owing to the unusual depth of water, these were covered rather deeply, with the result that all the availablespaces in our boots were filled with water. This was, of course, nothingunusual to us, as we had become quite accustomed to wet feet, and we nowlooked upon it as an ordinary incident of travel. The cave was said tohave been the resort of goblins, and when we wondered where they werenow, my brother mildly suggested that we might have seen them if we hadpossessed a mirror. We had seen a list of the names of the differentmosses to be found in the Malham district, but, as these were all inLatin, instead of committing them to memory, we contented ourselves withcounting the names of over forty different varieties besides hepaties, lichens, ferns, and many flowers:

 Hie away, hie away, Over bank and over brae, Where the copsewood is the greenest, Where the fountains glisten sheenest. Where the lady-fern grows strongest, Where the morning dew lies longest, Where the blackcock sweetest sips it. Where the fairy latest trips it;

 Hie to haunts right seldom seen, Lovely, lonesome, cool and green; Over bank and over brae Hie away, hie away!

So we now "hied away" to find Gordale Scar, calling at a farmhouse toinquire the way, for we knew we must cross some land belonging to thefarm before we could reach the Scar. We explained to the farmer theobject of our journey and that we wished afterwards to cross the moors. After directing us how to reach the Scar, he said there was no necessityfor us to return to Malham if we could climb up the side of thewaterfall at the Scar, since we should find the road leading from Malhama short distance from the top. He wished us good luck on our journey, and, following his instructions, we soon reached Gordale Scar. It wasinteresting to note the difference in the names applied to the sameobjects of nature in the different parts of the country we passedthrough, and here we found a scar meant a rock, a beck a brook, and atarn, from a Celtic word meaning a tear, a small lake. Gordale Scar wasa much more formidable place than we had expected to find, as the rockswere about five yards higher than those at Malham Cove, and it is almostas difficult to describe them as to climb to the top!

[Illustration: GORDALE SCAR. ]

Gordale Beck has its rise near Malham Tarn, about 1, 500 feet abovesea-level; and, after running across the moor for about three miles, gathering strength in its progress, it reaches the top of this cliff, and, passing over it, has formed in the course of ages quite aconsiderable passage, widening as it approaches the valley below, whereit emerges through a chasm between two rocks which rise to a greatheight. It was from this point we had to begin our climb, and few peoplecould pass underneath these overhanging rocks without a sense of danger. The track at this end had evidently been well patronised by visitors, but the last of these had departed with the month of September, and asit was now late in October we had the Scar all to ourselves. It was, therefore, a lonely climb, and a very difficult one as we approached thetop, for the volume of water was necessarily much greater after theheavy autumnal rainfall than when the visitors were there in the summer;and as we had to pass quite near the falls, the wind blew the spray insome places over our path. It seemed very strange to see white foamingwater high above our heads. There was some vegetation in places; hereand there a small yew tree, which reminded us of churchyards and thedark plumes on funeral coaches; but there were also many varieties offerns in the fissures in the rocks. When we neared the top, encumberedas we were with umbrellas, walking-sticks, and bags, we had to assisteach other from one elevation to another, one climbing up first and theother handing the luggage to him, and we were very pleased when weemerged on the moors above. 

[Illustration: KILNSEY CRAGS. ]

Here we found the beck running deeply and swiftly along a channel whichappeared to have been hewn out expressly for it, but on closerinspection we found it quite a natural formation. We have been toldsince by an unsentimental geologist that the structure is not difficultto understand. As in the case of the Malham Cove stream, this one passedinto the rock and gradually ate out a hollow, while ultimately escapingfrom the cliff as in the cove; but the roof of the cave collapsed, forming the great chasm and revealing the stream as it leaped down fromone level to another. Looking about us on the top we saw lonely moorswithout a house or a tree in sight, and walked across them until we cameto a very rough road--possibly the track which we expected to findleading from Malham. Malham Tarn was not in sight, but we had learnedthat the water was about a mile in length and the only things to be seenthere were two kinds of fish--perch and trout---which often quarrelledand decimated each other. The weather was dull, and we had encounteredseveral showers on our way, passing between the Parson's Pulpit to theleft, rising quite 1, 700 feet, and the Druid's Altar to our right; butwe afterwards learned that it was a poor specimen, and that there weremuch finer ones in existence, while the Parson's Pulpit was described as"a place for the gods, where a man, with a knowledge of nature and alover of the same, might find it vantage ground to speak or lecture onthe wonders of God and nature. "

We were pleased to get off the moors before further showers came on, andbefore we reached Kilnsey, where this portion of the moors terminatedabruptly in the Kilnsey Crags, we passed by a curious place calledDowker Bottom Cave, where some antiquarian discoveries had been madeabout fifteen years before our visit, excavations several feet below thelime-charged floor of the cave having revealed the fact that it had beenused by cave-dwellers both before and after the time of the Romans:there were also distinct traces of ancient burials. 

The monks of Furness Abbey formerly owned about 6, 000 acres of land inthis neighbourhood, and a small vale here still bore the name ofFountains Dell; but the Scotch raiders often came down and robbed themonks of their fat sheep and cattle. The valley now named Littondale wasformerly known as Amerdale, and was immortalised as such by Wordsworthin his "White Doe of Rylstone":

 Unwooed, yet unforbidden. The White Doe followed up the vale, Up to another cottage, hidden In the deep fork of Amerdale. 

The road passes almost under Kilnsey Crag, but though it seemed so near, some visitors who were throwing stones at it did not succeed in hittingit. We were a little more successful ourselves, but failed to hit theface of the rock itself, reminding us of our efforts to dislodge rooksnear their nests on the tops of tall trees: they simply watched thestones rising upwards, knowing that their force would be spent beforeeither reaching their nests or themselves. On arriving at Kilnsey, wecalled at the inn for refreshments, and were told that the ancientbuilding we saw was Kilnsey Old Hall, where, if we had come earlier inthe year, before the hay was put in the building, we could have seensome beautiful fresco-work over the inside of the barn doors!

After lunch we had a very nice walk alongside the River Wharfe to arather pretty place named Grassington, where an ancient market had beenheld since 1282, but was now discontinued. We should have been pleasedto stay a while here had time permitted, but we were anxious to reachPateley Bridge, where we intended making our stay for the week-end. Wenow journeyed along a hilly road with moors on each side of us as far asGreenhow Hill mines, worked by the Romans, and there our road reachedits highest elevation at 1, 320 feet above sea-level--the village churchas regarded situation claiming to be the highest in Yorkshire. We hadheard of a wonderful cave that we should find quite near our road, andwe were on the look-out for the entrance, which we expected would be ablack arch somewhere at the side of the road, but were surprised to findit was only a hole in the surface of a field. On inquiry we heard thecave was kept locked up, and that we must apply for admission to thelandlord of the inn some distance farther along the road. We found thelandlord busy, as it was Saturday afternoon; but when we told him wewere walking from John o' Groat's to Land's End and wanted to see allthe sights we could on our way, he consented at once to go with us andconduct us through the cave. We had to take off our coats, and wereprovided with white jackets, or slops, and a lighted candle each. Wefollowed our guide down some steps that had been made, into what were tous unknown regions. 

We went along narrow passages and through large rooms for about twohundred yards, part of the distance being under the road we had justwalked over. We had never been in a cave like this before. Thestalactites which hung from the roof of the cavern, and which at firstwe thought were long icicles, were formed by the rain-water as it slowlyfiltered through the limestone rock above, all that could not beretained by the stalactite dropping from the end of it to the floorbeneath. Here it gradually formed small pyramids, or stalagmites, whichslowly rose to meet their counterparts, the stalactites, above, so thatone descended while the other ascended. How long a period elapsed beforethese strange things were formed our guide could not tell us, but itmust have been very considerable, for the drops came down so slowly. Itwas this slow dropping that made it necessary for us to wear the whitejackets, and now and then a drop fell upon our headgear and on the"slops. " Still we felt sure it would have taken hundreds of years beforewe should have been transformed into either stalactites or stalagmites. In some of the places we saw they had long since met each other, and inthe course of ages had formed themselves into all kinds of queer shapes. In one room, which our guide told us was the "church, " we saw the"organ" and the "gallery, " and in another the likeness of a "bishop, "and in another place we saw an almost exact representation of the fourfingers of a man's hand suspended from the roof of the cave. Some of thesubterranean passages were so low that we could scarcely creep throughthem, and we wondered what would become of us if the roof had given waybefore we could return. Many other images were pointed out to us, and weimagined we saw fantastic and other ghostly shapes for ourselves. 

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO THE CAVE. ]

We were careful to keep our candles alight as we followed our guide onthe return journey, and kept as close together as we could. It wasnearly dark when we reached the entrance of the cavern again, and ourimpression was that we had been in another world. Farther south weexplored another and a larger cave, but the vandals had been there andbroken off many of the "'tites, " which here were quite perfect. We hadnot felt hungry while we were in the cave, but these well-known pangscame on us in force immediately we reached the open air, and we wereglad to accept the landlord's offer to provide for our inwardrequirements, and followed him home to the inn for tea. The landlord hadtold the company at the inn about our long walk, and as walking was morein vogue in those days than at later periods, we became objects ofinterest at once, and all were anxious to form our acquaintance. 

[Illustration: STUMP CROSS CAVES The Four Fingers. The "'tites" and"'mites. "]

We learned that what we had noted as the Greenhow Cave was known by theless euphonius name of the "Stump Cross Cavern. " It appeared that inancient times a number of crosses were erected to mark the limits of thegreat Forest of Knaresborough, a royal forest as far back as the twelfthcentury, strictly preserved for the benefit of the reigning monarch. Itabounded with deer, wild boars, and other beasts of the chase, and wasso densely wooded that the Knaresborough people were ordered to clear apassage through it for the wool-carriers from Newcastle to Leeds. Now wecould scarcely see a tree for miles, yet as recently as the year 1775the forest covered 100, 000 acres and embraced twenty-four townships. Before the Reformation, the boundary cross on the Greenhow side wasknown as the Craven Cross, for Craven was one of the ancient countiesmerged in what is called the West Riding. The Reformers objected tocrosses, and knocked it off its pedestal, so that only the stumpremained. Thus it gradually became known as the Stump Cross, and fromits proximity the cavern when discovered was christened the Stump CrossCavern. We were informed that the lead mines at Greenhow were the oldestin England, and perhaps in the world, and it was locally supposed thatthe lead used in the building of Solomon's Temple was brought from here. Two bars of lead that had been made in the time of the Romans had beenfound on the moors, and one of these was now to be seen at Ripley Castlein Yorkshire, while the other was in the British Museum. 

Eugene Aram, whose story we heard for the first time in the inn, wasborn at a village a few miles from Greenhow. The weather had beenshowery during the afternoon, but we had missed one of the showers, which came on while we were in the cavern. It was now fine, and the moonshone brightly as we descended the steep hill leading to Pateley Bridge. We had crossed the River Dibb after leaving Grassington, and now, beforecrossing the River Nidd at Pateley Bridge, we stayed at the "GeorgeInn, " an old hostelry dating from the year 1664. 

(_Distance walked twenty-one and a half miles_. )

_Sunday, October 22nd. _

We spent a fairly quiet day at Pateley Bridge, where there was not agreat deal to see. What there was we must have seen, as we made good useof the intervals between the three religious services we attended inexploring the town and its immediate neighbourhood. We had evidently nottaken refuge in one of the inns described by Daniel Defoe, for we weresome little distance from the parish church, which stood on a rathersteep hill on the opposite bank of the river. Near the church were theruins of an older edifice, an ancient description running, "The oldChappel of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Pateley Brigg in Nidderdale. " Weclimbed the hill, and on our way came to an old well on which wasinscribed the following translation by Dryden from the Latin of Ovid [43B. C. -A. D. 18]:

 Ill Habits gather by unseen degrees, As Brooks run rivers--Rivers run to Seas. 

and then followed the words:

 The way to church. 

We did not go there "by unseen degrees, " but still we hoped our goodhabits might gather in like proportion. We went to the parish churchboth morning and evening, and explored the graveyards, but thoughgravestones were numerous enough we did not find any epitaph worthy ofrecord--though one of the stones recorded the death in July 1755 of thefour sons of Robert and Margaret Fryer, who were born at one birth anddied aged one week. 

In the afternoon we went to the Congregational Chapel, and afterwardswere shown through a very old Wesleyan Chapel, built in 1776, and stillcontaining the old seats, with the ancient pulpit from which John Wesleyhad preached on several occasions. 

It was curious to observe how anxious the compilers of the histories ofthe various places at which we stayed were to find a remote beginning, and how apologetic they were that they could not start even earlier. Those of Pateley Bridge were no exception to the rule. The RomanOccupation might perhaps have been considered a reasonable foundation, but they were careful to record that the Brigantes were supposed to haveoverrun this district long before the Romans, since several stoneimplements had been found in the neighbourhood. One of the Roman pigs oflead found hereabouts, impressed with the name of the Emperor"Domitian, " bore also the word "Brig, " which was supposed to be acontraction of Brigantes. A number of Roman coins had also beendiscovered, but none of them of a later date than the Emperor Hadrian, A. D. 139, the oldest being one of Nero, A. D. 54-68. 

[Illustration: THE OLD PARISH CHURCH, PATELEY BRIDGE. ]

Previous to the fourteenth century the River Nidd was crossed by meansof a paved ford, and this might originally have been paved by theRomans, who probably had a ford across the river where Pateley Bridgenow stands for the safe conveyance of the bars of lead from the Greenhowmines, to which the town owed its importance, down to the beginning ofthe nineteenth century. But though it could boast a Saturday marketdating from the time of Edward II, it was now considered a quiet andsomewhat sleepy town. 

The valley along which the River Nidd runs from its source in the moors, about ten miles away, was known as Nidderdale. In the church book atMiddlesmoor, about six miles distant, were two entries connected withtwo hamlets on the banks of the Nidd near Pateley Bridge which fix thedates of the christening and marriage of that clever murderer, EugeneAram. We place them on record here:

 RAMSGILL. --Eugenious Aram, son of Peter Aram, bap. Ye 2nd of October, 1704. LOFTUS. --Eugenius Aram and Anna Spence, married May 4th, after banns thrice pub. 1731. 

We retired to rest early. Our last week's walk was below the average, and we hoped by a good beginning to make up the mileage during thecoming week, a hope not to be fulfilled, as after events proved. 

SIXTH WEEK'S JOURNEY

A WEEK OF AGONY

_Monday, October 23rd. _

We left Pateley Bridge at seven o'clock in the morning, and afterwalking about two miles on the Ripley Road, turned off to the left alonga by-lane to find the wonderful Brimham rocks, of which we had beentold. We heard thrashing going on at a farm, which set us wonderingwhether we were on the same road along which Chantrey the famoussculptor walked when visiting these same rocks. His visit probably wouldnot have been known had not the friend who accompanied him kept a diaryin which he recorded the following incident. 

They were walking towards the rocks when they, like ourselves, heard thesound of thrashing in a barn, which started an argument between them ontheir relative abilities in the handling of the flail. As they could notsettle the matter by words, they resolved to do so by blows; so theymade their way to the farm and requested the farmer to allow them to trytheir hand at thrashing corn, and to judge which of them shaped thebetter. The farmer readily consented, and accompanied them to the barn, where, stopping the two men who were at work, he placed Chantrey and hisfriend in their proper places. They stripped for the fight, each takinga flail, while the farmer and his men watched the duel with smilingfaces. It soon became evident that Chantrey was the better of the two. The unequal contest was stopped, much to the chagrin of the keeper ofthe diary, by the judge giving his verdict in favour of the greatsculptor. This happened about seventy years before our visit, but evennow the old-fashioned method of thrashing corn had not yet been oustedby steam machinery, and the sound of the flails as they were swung downupon the barn floors was still one of the commonest and noisiest that, during the late autumn and winter months, met our ears in countryvillages. 

When the time came for the corn to be thrashed, the sheaves were placedon the barn floor with their heads all in the same direction, thebinders which held them together loosened, and the corn spread out. Twomen were generally employed in this occupation, one standing oppositethe other, and the corn was separated from the straw and chaff byknocking the heads with sticks. These sticks, or flails, were dividedinto two parts, the longer of which was about the size of abroom-handle, but made of a much stronger kind of wood, while the other, which was about half its length, was fastened to the top by a hinge madeof strong leather, so that the flail was formed into the shape of awhip, except that the lash would not bend, and was as thick as thehandle. The staff was held with both hands, one to guide and the otherto strike, and as the thrashers were both practically aiming at the sameplace, it was necessary, in order to prevent their flails colliding, that one lash should be up in the air at the same moment that the otherwas down on the floor, so that it required some practice in order tobecome a proficient thrasher. The flails descended on the barn floorswith the regularity of the ticking of a clock, or the rhythmic andmeasured footsteps of a man walking in a pair of clogs at a quickstepspeed over the hard surface of a cobbled road. We knew that thismediæval method of thrashing corn would be doomed in the future, andthat the old-fashioned flail would become a thing of the past, only tobe found in some museum as a relic of antiquity, so we recorded thisdescription of Chantrey's contest with the happy memories of the dayswhen we ourselves went a-thrashing corn a long time ago!

[Illustration: GENERAL VIEW OF BRIMHAM ROCKS. ]

What Chantrey thought of those marvellous rocks at Brimham was notrecorded, but, as they covered quite fifty acres of land, his friend, like ourselves, would find it impossible to give any lengthy descriptionof them, and might, like the auctioneers, dismiss them with thewell-known phrase, "too numerous to mention. "

To our great advantage we were the only visitors at the rocks, and forthat reason enjoyed the uninterrupted services of the official guide, anelderly man whose heart was in his work, and a born poet withal. 

[Illustration: THE DANCING-BEAR ROCK. ]

The first thing we had to do was to purchase his book of poems, which, as a matter of course, was full of poetical descriptions of thewonderful rocks he had to show us--and thoroughly and conscientiouslyhe did his duty. As we came to each rock, whether we had to stand belowor above it, he poured out his poetry with a rapidity that quitebewildered and astonished us. He could not, of course, tell us whetherthe rocks had been worn into their strange forms by the action of thesea washing against them at some remote period, or whether they had beenshaped in the course of ages by the action of the wind and rain; but wehave appealed to our geological friend, who states, in that emphatic waywhich scientific people adopt, that these irregular crags are made ofmillstone grit, and that the fantastic shapes are due to long exposureto weather and the unequal hardness of the rock. Our guide accompaniedus first to the top of a great rock, which he called Mount Pisgah, fromwhich we could see on one side a wilderness of bare moors and mountains, and on the other a fertile valley, interspersed with towns and villagesas far as the eye could reach. Here the guide told my brother that hecould imagine himself to be like Moses of old, who from Pisgah's loftyheight viewed the Promised Land of Canaan on one side, and thewilderness on the other! But we were more interested in the astonishingnumber of rocks around us than in the distant view, and when our guidedescribed them as the "finest freak of nature of the rock kind inEngland, " we thoroughly endorsed his remarks. We had left our luggage atthe caretaker's house, which had been built near the centre of thisgreat mass of stones in the year 1792, by Lord Grantley, to whom theproperty belonged, from the front door of which, we were told, could beseen, on a clear day, York Minster, a distance of twenty-eight miles asthe crow flies. As may be imagined, it was no small task for the guideto take us over fifty acres of ground and to recite verses about everyobject of interest he showed us, some of them from his book and somefrom memory. But as we were without our burdens we could follow himquickly, while he was able to take us at once to the exact positionwhere the different shapes could be seen to the best advantage. How longit would have taken that gentleman we met near Loch Lomond in Scotlandwho tried to show us "the cobbler and his wife, " on the top of BenArthur, from a point from which it could not be seen, we could notguess, but it was astonishing how soon we got through the work, and wereagain on our way to find "fresh fields and pastures new. "

[Illustration: THE HIGH ROCK. ]

We saw the "Bulls of Nineveh, " the "Tortoise, " the "Gorilla, " and the"Druids' Temple"--also the "Druids' Reading-desk, " the "Druids' Oven, "and the "Druid's Head. " Then there was the "Idol, " where a great stone, said to weigh over two hundred tons, was firmly balanced on a basemeasuring only two feet by ten inches. There was the usual Lovers' Leap, and quite a number of rocking stones, some of which, although they weremany tons in weight, could easily be rocked with one hand. The largeststone of all was estimated to weigh over one hundred tons, though it wasonly discovered to be movable in the year 1786. The "Cannon Rock" wasthirty feet long, and, as it was perforated with holes, was supposed tohave been used as an oracle by the Ancients, a question asked down ahole at one end being answered by the gods through the priest orpriestess hidden from view at the other. The different recesses, ourguide informed us, were used as lovers' seats and wishing stones. The"Frog and the Porpoise, " the "Oyster Rock, " the "Porpoise's Head, " the"Sphinx, " the "Elephant and Yoke of Oxen, " and the "Hippopotamus's Head"were all clearly defined. The "Dancing Bear" was a splendidly shapedspecimen, and then there was a "Boat Rock, " with bow and stern complete. But on the "Mount Delectable, " as our guide called it, there was a veryromantic courting and kissing chair, which, although there was only roomfor one person to sit in it at a time, he assured us was, in summertime, the best patronised seat in the lot. 

We remunerated him handsomely, for he had worked hard and, as "Englandexpects, " he had done his duty. He directed us to go along a by-lanethrough Sawley or Sawley Moor, as being the nearest way to reachFountains Abbey: but of course we lost our way as usual. The BrimhamRocks were about 1, 000 feet above sea-level, and from them we could seeHarrogate, which was, even then, a fashionable and rising inlandwatering-place. Our guide, when he showed us its position in thedistance, did not venture to make any poetry about it, so we quote averse written by another poet about the visitors who went there:

 Some go for the sake of the waters-- Well, they are the old-fashioned elves-- And some to dispose of their daughters, And some to dispose of themselves. 

But there must be many visitors who go there to search in its bracingair for the health they have lost during many years of toil and anxiety, and to whom the words of an unknown poet would more aptly apply:

 We squander Health in search of Wealth, We scheme, and toil, and save; Then squander Wealth in search of Health, And only find a Grave. We live! and boast of what we own! We die! and only get a STONE!

[Illustration: FOUNTAINS AND THE RIVER SKELL. ]

[Illustration: FOUNTAINS ABBEY. "How grand the fine old ruin appeared, calmly reposing in the peaceful valley below. "]

[Illustration: THE CLOISTERS, FOUNTAINS ABBEY. "Many great warriors wereburied beneath the peaceful shade of Fountains Abbey. "]

[Illustration: THE NAVE]

Fortunately we happened to meet with a gentleman who was going part ofthe way towards Fountains Abbey, and him we accompanied for somedistance. He told us that the abbey was the most perfect ruin inEngland, and when we parted he gave us clear instructions about the wayto reach it. We were walking on, keeping a sharp look out for the abbeythrough the openings in the trees that partially covered our way, whensuddenly we became conscious of looking at a picture without realisingwhat it was, for our thoughts and attention had been fixed upon thehorizon on the opposite hill, where for some undefined reason weexpected the abbey to appear. Lo and behold, there was the abbey in thevalley below, which we might have seen sooner had we been looking downinstead of up. The effect of the view coming so suddenly was quiteelectrical, and after our first exclamation of surprise we stood theresilently gazing upon the beautiful scene before us; and how grand thefine old ruin appeared calmly reposing in the beautiful valley below! Itwas impossible to forget the picture! Why we had expected to find theabbey in the position of a city set upon a hill which could not behid we could not imagine, for we knew that the abbeys in the olden timeshad to be hidden from view as far as possible as one means of protectingthem from warlike marauders who had no sympathy either with the learnedmonks or their wonderful books. Further they required a stream of waternear them for fish and other purposes, and a kaleyard or level patch ofground for the growth of vegetables, as well as a forest--using the wordin the Roman sense, to mean stretches of woodland divided by openspaces--to supply them with logs and with deer for venison, for therewas no doubt that, as time went on, the monks, to use a modern phrase, "did themselves well. " All these conditions existed near the magnificentposition on which the great abbey had been built. The river which ranalongside was named the Skell, a name probably derived from the Norseword _Keld_, signifying a spring or fountain, and hence the nameFountains, for the place was noted for its springs and wells, as--

 From the streams and springs which Nature here contrives, The name of Fountains this sweet place derives. 

[Illustration: THE GREAT TOWER]

The history of the abbey stated that it was founded by thirteen monkswho, wishing to lead a holier and a stricter life than then prevailed inthat monastery, seceded from the Cistercian Abbey of St. Mary's at York. With the Archbishop's sanction they retired to this desolate spot toimitate the sanctity and discipline of the Cistercians in the Abbey ofRieval. They had no house to shelter them, but in the depth of thevalley there grew a great elm tree, amongst the branches of which theytwisted straw, thus forming a roof beneath which they might dwell. Whenthe winter came on, they left the shelter of the elm and came under thatof seven yew-trees of extraordinary size. With the waters of the RiverSkell they quenched their thirst, the Archbishop occasionally sent thembread, and when spring came they built a wooden chapel. Others joinedthem, but their accession increased their privations, and they often hadno food except leaves of trees and wild herbs. Even now these herbs andwild flowers of the monks grew here and there amongst the old ruins. Rosemary, lavender, hyssop, rue, silver and bronze lichens, pale rosyfeather pink, a rare flower, yellow mullein, bee and fly orchis, andeven the deadly nightshade, which was once so common at Furness Abbey. One day their provisions consisted of only two and a half loaves ofbread, and a stranger passing by asked for a morsel. "Give him a loaf, "said the Abbot; "the Lord will provide, "--and so they did. Marvellous torelate, says the chronicle, immediately afterwards a cart appearedbringing a present of food from Sir Eustace Fitz-John, the lord of theneighbouring castle of Knaresborough, until then an unfriendly personageto the monks. 

[Illustration: "Beneath whose peaceful shades great warriors rest. "]

Before long the monks prospered: Hugh, the Dean of York, left them hisfortune, and in 1203 they began to build the abbey. Other helpers cameforward, and in course of time Fountains became one of the richestmonasteries in Yorkshire. The seven yew trees were long remembered asthe "Seven Sisters, " but only one of them now remains. Many greatwarriors were buried beneath the peaceful shade of Fountains Abbey, andmany members of the Percy family, including Lord Henry de Percy, who, after deeds of daring and valour on many a hard-fought field as hefollowed the banner of King Edward I all through the wilds of Scotland, prayed that his body might find a resting-place within the walls ofFountains Abbey. Lands were given to the abbey, until there were 60, 000acres attached to it and enclosed in a ring fence. One of the monks fromFountains went to live as a hermit in a secluded spot adjoining theRiver Nidd, a short distance from Knaresborough, where he became knownas St. Robert the Hermit. He lived in a cave hewn out of the rock on oneside of the river, where the banks were precipitous and covered withtrees. One day the lord of the forest was hunting, and saw smoke risingabove the trees. On making inquiries, he was told it came from the caveof St. Robert. His lordship was angry, and, as he did not know who thehermit was, ordered him to be sent away and his dwelling destroyed. These orders were in process of being carried out, and the front part ofthe cave, which was only a small one, had in fact been broken down, whenhis lordship heard what a good man St. Robert the Hermit was. He orderedhim to be reinstated, and his cave reformed, and he gave him some land. When the saint died, the monks of Fountains Abbey--anxious, like most oftheir order, to possess the remains of any saint likely to be popularamong the religious-minded--came for his body, so that they might buryit in their own monastery, and would have taken it away had not a numberof armed men arrived from Knaresborough Castle. So St. Robert was buriedin the church at Knaresborough. 

[Illustration: THE BOUNDARY STONE KNARESBOROUGH FOREST. ]

St. Robert the Hermit was born in 1160, and died in 1218, so that helived and died in the days of the Crusades to the Holy Land. Althoughhis name was still kept in remembrance, his Cave and Chapel had longbeen deserted and overgrown with bushes and weeds, while the overhangingtrees hid it completely from view. But after a lapse of hundreds ofyears St. Robert's Cave was destined to come into greater prominencethan ever, because of the sensational discovery of the remains of thevictim of Eugene Aram, which was accidentally brought to light afterlong years, when the crime had been almost forgotten and the murdererhad vanished from the scene of his awful deed. 

The tragedy enacted in St. Robert's Cave has been immortalised in poetryand in story: by Lord Lytton in his story of "Eugene Aram" and by TomHood in "The Dream of Eugene Aram. " Aram was a man of considerableattainments, for he knew Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and other languages, andwas also a good mathematician as well as an antiquarian. He settled inKnaresborough in the year 1734, and among his acquaintances were oneDaniel Clark and another, John Houseman, and these three were oftentogether until suddenly Daniel Clark disappeared. No one knew what hadbecome of him, and no intelligence could be obtained from his twocompanions. Aram shortly afterwards left the town, and it was noticedthat Houseman never left his home after dark, so they were suspected ofbeing connected in some way with the disappearance of Clark. Itafterwards transpired that Aram had induced Clark to give a greatsupper, and to invite all the principal people in the town, borrowingall the silver vessels he could from them, on the pretence that he wasshort. The plot was to pretend that robbers had got in the house andstolen the silver. Clark fell in with this plot, and gave the supper, borrowing all the silver he could. After all was over, they were to meetat Clark's house, put the silver in a sack, and proceed to St. Robert'sCave, which at that time was in ruins, where the treasure was to behidden until matters had quieted down, after which they would sell itand divide the money; Clark was to take a spade and a pick, while theother two carried the bag in turns. Clark began to dig the trench withinthe secluded and bush-covered cave which proved to be his own grave, andwhen he had nearly finished the trench, Aram came behind and with one ofthe tools gave him a tremendous blow on the head which killed himinstantly, and the two men buried him there. 

[Illustration: ST. ROBERT'S AND EUGENE ARAM'S CAVE. ]

Clark's disappearance caused a great sensation, every one thinking hehad run away with the borrowed silver. Years passed away, and the matterwas considered as a thing of the past and forgotten, until it was againbrought to recollection by some workmen, who had been digging on theopposite side of the river to St. Robert's Cave, finding a skeleton ofsome person buried there. As the intelligence was spread aboutKnaresborough, the people at once came to the conclusion that theskeleton was that of Daniel Clark, who had disappeared fourteen yearsbefore. Although Aram had left the neighbourhood soon after Clarkdisappeared, and no one knew where he had gone, Houseman was still inthe town, and when the news of the finding of the skeleton reached him, he was drinking in one of the public-houses, and, being partly drunk, his only remark was, "It's no more Dan Clark's skeleton than it's mine. "Immediately he was accused of being concerned in the disappearance ofClark, and ultimately confessed that Aram had killed Clark, and thattogether they had buried his dead body in St. Robert's Cave. Search wasmade there, and Clark's bones were found. One day a traveller came tothe town who said he had seen Aram at Lynn in Norfolk, where he had aschool. Officers were at once sent there to apprehend Aram, and the samenight--

 Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn, Through the cold and heavy mist; And Eugene Aram walked between With gyves upon his wrist. 

Aram was brought up for trial, and made a fine speech in defendinghimself; but it was of no avail, for Houseman turned "King's Evidence"against him, telling all he knew on condition that he himself waspardoned. The verdict was "Guilty, " and Aram was hanged at York in theyear 1759. 

[Illustration: ST. ROBERTS CHAPEL. ]

Fountains Abbey in its prime must have been one of the noblest andstateliest sanctuaries in the kingdom. The great tower was 167 feethigh, and the nave about 400 feet long, while the cloisters--stillalmost complete, for we walked under their superb arches several timesfrom one end to the other--were marvellous to see. One of the wells atFountains Abbey was named Robin Hood's Well, for in the time of thatfamous outlaw the approach to the Abbey was defended by a very powerfuland brave monk who kept quite a number of dogs, on which account he wasnamed the Cur-tail Friar. Robin Hood and Little John were trying theirskill and strength in archery on the deer in the forest when, in thewords of the old ballad:

 Little John killed a Hart of Greece Five hundred feet him fro, and Robin was so proud of his friend that he said he would ride ahundred miles to find such another, a remark--

 That caused Will Shadlocke to laugh. He laughed full heartily; There lives a curtail fryer in Fountains Abbey Will beate bothe him and thee. 

 The curtell fryer, in Fountains Abbey, Well can a strong bow draw; He will beate you and your yeomen. Set them all in a row. 

[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD'S WELL, FOUNTAINS ABBEY. ]

So Robin, taking up his weapons and putting on his armour, went to seekthe friar, and found him near the River Skell which skirted the abbey. Robin arranged with the friar that as a trial of strength they shouldcarry each other across the river. After this had been accomplishedsuccessfully Robin asked to be carried over a second time. But the friaronly carried him part way and then threw him into the deepest part ofthe river, or, in the words of the ballad:

 And coming to the middle streame There he threw Robin in; "And chuse thee, chuse thee, fine fellow, Whether thou wilt sink or swim. "

Robin evidently did not care to sink, so he swam to a willow bush and, gaining dry land, took one of his best arrows and shot at the friar. Thearrow glanced off the monk's steel armour, and he invited Robin to shooton, which he did, but with no greater success. Then they took theirswords and "fought with might and maine":

 From ten o' th' clock that very day Till four i' th' afternoon. Then Robin came to his knee Of the fryer to beg a boone. 

 "A boone, a boone, thou curtail fryer, I beg it on my knee; Give me leave to set my horn to my mouth And to blow blastes three. "

The friar consented contemptuously, for he had got the better of thefight; so Robin blew his "blastes three, " and presently fifty of hisyeomen made their appearance. It was now the friar's turn to ask afavour. 

 "A boone, a boone, " said the curtail fryer, "The like I gave to thee: Give me leave to set my fist to my mouth And to whute whues three. "

and as Robin readily agreed to this, he sounded his "whues three, " andimmediately--

 Halfe a hundred good band-dogs Came running o'er the lee. 

 "Here's for every man a dog And I myself for thee. " "Nay, by my faith, " said Robin Hood, "Fryer, that may not be. "

 Two dogs at once to Robin Hood did goe. The one behinde, the other before; Robin Hood's mantle of Lincoln greene Offe from his backe they tore. 

 And whether his men shot east or west. Or they shot north or south, The curtail dogs, so taught they were, They kept the arrows in their mouth. 

 "Take up the dogs, " said Little John; "Fryer, at my bidding be. " "Whose man art thou, " said the curtail fryer, "Come here to prate to me!"

 "I'm Little John, Robin Hood's man. Fryer, I will not lie. If thou tak'st not up thy dogs, I'll take them up for thee. "

 Little John had a bowe in his hands. He shot with mighte and maine; Soon half a score of the fryer's dogs Lay dead upon the plaine. 

 "Hold thy hand, good fellow, " said the curtail fryer. "Thy master and I will agree, And we will have new order ta'en With all the haste may be. "

Then Robin Hood said to the friar:

 "If thou wilt forsake fair Fountains Dale And Fountains Abbey free, Every Sunday throughout the yeare A noble shall be thy fee. 

 "And every holiday throughout the yeare Changed shall thy garment be If thou wilt go to fair Nottinghame And there remaine with me. "

 This curtail fryer had kept Fountains Dale Seven long years and more; There was neither knight, lord or earle Could make him yield before. 

According to tradition, the friar accepted Robin's offer and became thefamous Friar Tuck of the outlaw's company of Merrie Men whom in_Ivanhoe_ Scott describes as exchanging blows in a trial of strengthwith Richard Coeur de Lion. It was said that when Robin Hood died, hisbow and arrows were hung up in Fountains Abbey, where they remained forcenturies. 

We procured some refreshments near the abbey, and then walked on toRipon, through the fine park and grounds of Studley Royal, belonging tothe Marquis of Ripon, and we esteemed it a great privilege to be allowedto do so. The fine trees and gardens and the beautiful waters, with somelovely swans floating on them, their white plumage lit up with the raysof the sun, which that day shone out in all its glory, formed such acontrast to the dull and deserted moors, that we thought the people ofRipon, like ourselves, ought to be thankful that they were allowed tohave access to these beautiful grounds. 

The town of Ripon, like many others in the north of England, hadsuffered much in the time of the wars, and had had an eventful history, for after being burnt by the Danes it was restored by Alfred the Greatin the year 860, only to be destroyed once more by William the Conquerorin his ruthless march through the northern counties. A survival ofAlfred's wise government still existed in the "Wake-man, " whose duty itwas to blow a horn at nine o'clock each night as a warning againstthieves. If a robbery occurred during the night, the inhabitants weretaxed with the amount stolen. A horn was still blown, three blasts beinggiven at nine o'clock at the Market Cross and three immediatelyafterwards at the Mayor's door by the official horn-blower, during whichperformances the seventh bell in the cathedral was tolled. The ancientmotto of the town was:

 EXCEPT Ye LORD KEEP Ye CITTIE Ye WAKEMAN WAKETH IN VAIN. 

In 1680 the silver badges that adorned the horn were stolen by thieves, but they had long since been replaced, and the horn was now quite agrand affair, the gold chain purchased for it in 1859 costing £250. 

The town was again burnt by Robert Bruce in 1319, when the north ofEngland was being devastated after the disastrous Battle of Bannockburn;but it soon revived in importance, and in 1405 Henry IV and his courtretired thither to escape the plague which at that time was raging inLondon. 

In the time of the Civil War Charles I was brought to Ripon by hiscaptors, and lodged for two nights in a house where he was sumptuouslyentertained, and was so well pleased with the way he had been treatedthat his ghost was said to have visited the house after his death. Thegood old lady who lived there in those troubled times was the veryessence of loyalty and was a great admirer of the murdered monarch. Inspite of Cromwell she kept a well-furnished wine-cellar, where bottleswere continually being found emptied of their contents and turned upsidedown. But when she examined her servants about this strange phenomenon, she was always told that whenever the ghost of King Charles appeared, the rats twisted their tails round the corks of the bottles andextracted them as cleverly as the lady's experienced butler could havedone himself, and that they presented their generous contents inbrimming goblets to the parched lips of His Majesty, who had been socruelly murdered. This reply was always considered satisfactory and nofurther investigation was made! "Let me suffer loss, " said the old lady, "rather than be thought a rebel and add to the calamities of a murderedking! King Charles is quite welcome!"

[Illustration: RIPON MINSTER. ]

Eugene Aram, we were informed, spent some years of his life in Ripon ata house in Bond-Gate. 

St. Wilfrid was the patron saint of Ripon, where he was born. Legendstates that at his birth a strange supernatural light shone over thehouse, and when he died, those who were in the death chamber claimedthat they could hear the rustling of the angels' wings who had come tobear his spirit away. As we saw some figures relating to him in thecathedral we presumed that he must have been its patron saint. We foundafterwards it was dedicated to St. Peter and St. Wilfrid. St. Wilfridwas an enthusiast in support of the Church control of Rome. Onesympathises with the poor king, who had to decide between the claims ofRome and the Celtic Church, whether priests should have their hair cutthis way or that, and if the date of Easter should be decided by themoon or by some other way. He seems to have been a simple-minded fellow, and his decision was very practical. "I am told that Christ gave Peterthe keys of heaven to keep, and none can get in without his permission. Is that so?" to which Wilfrid quickly answered "Yes. " "Has your saintany power like that?" he asked Oswin, who could but say "No. " "Then, "said the king, "I vote for the side with the greater power, " and decidedin favour of Wilfrid. Like other cathedrals, Ripon had suffered much inthe wars, but there were many ancient things still to be seen there. Near the font was a tomb covered with a slab of grey marble, on whichwere carved the figures of a man and a huge lion, both standing amongstsome small trees. It was supposed to have covered the body of an Irishprince who died at Ripon on his way home from the Holy War, inPalestine, and who brought back with him a lion that followed him aboutjust like a dog. In the cathedral yard there was an epitaph to afisherman:

 Here lies poor but honest Bryan Tunstall. He was a most expert angler until Death, envious of his merit, threw out his line, and landed him here 21st day of April, 1790. 

[Illustration: RIPON MINSTER, WEST FRONT]

We left Ripon by the Boroughbridge road, and when about a mile from thetown we met one of the dignitaries of the cathedral, who from his dressmight have been anything from an archdeacon upwards. We asked him if hecould tell us of any objects of interest on our farther way. He told usof Aldborough, with its Roman remains and the Devil's Arrows, of whichwe had never heard before; and he questioned us about our long tramp, the idea of which quite delighted him. We told him that we had thrownour mackintoshes away, and why we had done so, and had bought umbrellasinstead; and he said, "You are now standing before a man who would givefifty pounds if he had never worn a mackintosh, for they have given methe rheumatism!"

The church at Kirkby Hill had just been restored. We saw an epitaph inthe churchyard similar to one which we found in a graveyard later on, farther south:

 Whence I came it matters not. To whom related or by whom begot; A heap of dust is all that remains of me, 'Tis all I am, and all the proud shall be. 

[Illustration: THE DEVIL'S ARROWS. ]

We soon reached the famous Boroughbridge, one of the most historicalplaces in all England, the borough meaning Aldborough, the ISUER of theBrigantes and the ISURIUM of the Romans. Here we crossed the bridgespanning the Yorkshire River Ouse, which almost adjoined Aldborough, andwere directed for lodgings to the house of a widowed lady quite near thechurch. It was nearly dark then, the moon, though almost at the fullthat night, not having yet risen. We decided to wait until after asubstantial meal before visiting the Devil's Arrows a short distanceaway. There were only three of them left--two in a field on one side ofthe road, and one in a field opposite. The stones were standing upright, and were, owing to their immense size, easily found. We had inspectedthe two, and were just jumping over the gate to cross the narrow lane tosee the other in the next field, when we startled a man who wasreturning, not quite sober, from the fair at Boroughbridge. As we hadour sticks in our hands, he evidently thought we were robbers and meantmischief, for he begged us not to molest him, saying he had onlythreepence in his pocket, to which we were welcome. We were highlyamused, and the man was very pleased when he found he could keep thecoppers, "to pay, " as he said, "for another pint. " The stones, weighingabout 36 tons each, were 20 to 30 feet high, and as no one knew whoplaced them there, their origin was ascribed to the Devil; hence theirname, "the Devil's Arrows. " Possibly, as supposed in other similarcases, he had shot them out of his bow from some great hill far away, and they had stuck in the earth here. There was fairly authenticevidence that twelve was the original number, and the bulk of opinionfavoured an origin concerned with the worship of the sun, one of theearliest forms known. Others, however, ascribe them to the Romans, whoerected boundary stones, of which several are known, on the hillsfarther south. We returned to our lodgings, but not to sleep, for oursleeping apartment was within a few feet of the church clock, on theside of a very low steeple. As we were obliged to keep our window openfor fresh air, we could hear every vibration of the pendulum, and thesound of the ponderous bell kept us awake until after it struck the hourof twelve. Then, worn out with fatigue, we heard nothing more until weawoke early in the morning. 

[Illustration: ALDBOROUGH CHURCH, BOROUGHBRIDGE. ]

(_Distance walked twenty miles_. )

_Tuesday, October 24th. _

The history of Aldborough, the old _burh_ or fortified Saxon settlement, in spite of its Saxon name, could clearly be traced back to the time ofthe Brigantes, the ancient Britons, who inhabited the territory betweenthe Tweed and the Humber. A Celtic city existed there long beforeRomulus and Remus founded the city of Rome, and it was at this city ofISUER, between the small River Tut and its larger neighbour the Yore, that their queen resided. Her name, in Gaelic, was Cathair-ys-maen-ddu("Queen of stones black"), rather a long name even for a queen, andmeaning in English the Queen of the City of the Black Stones, theremaining three, out of the original twelve, being those, now known asthe Devil's Arrows, which we had seen the preceding night. 

[Illustration: CAER CARADOC HILL, CHURCH STRETTON. ]

The Romans, however, when they invaded Britain, called her Cartismunda, her city ISURIUM, and the Brigantes' country they named Brigantia. Butas the Brigantes made a determined resistance, their invasion of thispart of England, begun in A. D. 47, was not completed until A. D. 70. 

Queen Cartismunda was related to the King of Siluria, which thenembraced the counties of Hereford and Monmouth, besides part of SouthWales. He was one of the greatest of the British chieftains, namedCaradoc by the Britons and Caractacus by the Romans. He fought for theindependence of Britain, and held the armies of the most famous Romangenerals at bay for a period of about nine years. But eventually, inA. D. 50, he was defeated by the Roman general Ostorius Scapula, in thehilly region near Church Stretton, in Shropshire, not far from a hillstill known as Caer Caradoc, his wife and daughters being takenprisoners in the cave known as Caradoc's Cave. He himself escaped to theIsle of Mona, afterwards named Anglesey, with the object of rallying theBritish tribes there. 

It so happened that some connection existed between Queen Cartismundaand the Romans who had defeated Caradoc, and after that event OstoriusScapula turned his army towards the north, where he soon reached theborder of Brigantia. 

As soon as the queen, of whose morals even the Britons held no highopinion, heard of his arrival, she and her daughters hastened to meetthe conqueror to make terms. If beauty had any influence in thesettlement, she seems to have had everything in her favour, as, if weare to believe the description of one of the Romans, who began hisletter with the words "Brigantes faemina dulce, " the Brigantes ladiesmust have been very sweet and beautiful. 

A most objectional part of the bargain was that Caractacus should bedelivered up to the Roman general. So the queen sent some relatives toMona to invite him to come and see her at Isuer, and, dreaming nothingof treachery, he came; but as soon as he crossed the border into thequeen's country he was seized, bound and handed over to Ostorius, whosent him to Rome, together with his already captured wife and daughters. 

On arrival at Rome Caractacus was imprisoned with some of his countrymenand in course of time brought before the Emperor Claudius. The brave andfearless speech he made before the Emperor on that occasion is one ofthe most famous recorded in history, and has been immortalised both inprose and poetry. 

 "Now I have spoken, do thy will; Be life or death my lot. Since Britain's throne no more I fill, To me it matters not. My fame is clear; but on my fate Thy glory or thy shame must wait. "

 He ceased: from all around upsprung A murmur of applause; For well had truth and freedom's tongue Maintained their holy cause. The conqueror was the captive then-- He bade the slave be free again. 

Tradition states that one of his companions in the prison in Rome wasSt. Paul, who converted him to the Christian faith, with two of hisfellow-countrymen, Linus and Claudia, who are mentioned in St. Paul'ssecond Epistle to Timothy (iv. 21). 

Descendants of Caradoc are still to be traced in England in the familyof Craddock, whose shield to this day is emblazoned with the words:"Betrayed! Not conquered. "

We awoke quite early in the morning--a fact which we attributed to thechurch clock, although we could not remember hearing it strike. Mybrother started the theory that we might have been wakened by somesupernatural being coming through the open window, from the greenswardbeneath, where "lay the bones of the dead. " Aldborough church wasdedicated to St. Andrew, and the register dated from the year1538--practically from the time when registers came into being. Itcontained a curious record of a little girl, a veritable "Nobody'schild, " who, as a foundling, was brought to the church and baptized in1573 as "Elizabeth Nobody, of Nobody. "

[Illustration: KNARESBOROUGH CASTLE. ]

Oliver Cromwell, about whom we were to hear so much in our furthertravels, was here described in the church book as "an impiousArch-Rebel, " but this we afterwards found was open to doubt. He foughtone of his great battles quite near Aldborough, and afterwards besiegedKnaresborough Castle, about eight miles away. He lodged at anold-fashioned house in that town. In those days fireplaces in bedroomswere not very common, and even where they existed were seldom used, asthe beds were warmed with flat-bottomed circular pans of copper orbrass, called "warming-pans, " in which were placed red-hot cinders ofpeat, wood, or coal. A long, round wooden handle, like a broomstick, wasattached to the pan, by means of which it was passed repeatedly up anddown the bed, under the bedclothes, until they became quite warm, bothabove and below. As this service was performed just before the peopleretired to rest, they found a warm bed waiting for them instead of acold one. But of course this was in the "good old times. " Afterwards, when people became more civilised (!), they got into bed between linensheets that were icy cold, and after warming them with the heat of theirbodies, if they chanced to move an inch or two during the night theywere either awakened, or dreamed about icebergs or of being lost in thesnow!

The young daughter of the house where Oliver Cromwell lodged atKnaresborough had the task of warming Oliver's bed for him, and in afteryears when she had grown up she wrote a letter in which she said: "WhenCromwell came to lodge at our house I was then but a young girl, andhaving heard so much talk about the man, I looked at him with wonder. Being ordered to take a pan of coals and 'aire' his bed, I could notforbear peeping over my shoulders to see this extraordinary man, who wasseated at the far side of the room untying his garters. Having aired thebed I went out, and shutting the door after me, I peeped through thekeyhole, when I saw him rise from his seat, advance to the bed, and fallon his knees, in which attitude I left him for some time. When returningI found him still at prayer---and this was his custom every night aslong as he stayed at our house--I concluded he must be a good man, andthis opinion I always maintained, though I heard him blamed andexceedingly abused. "

Aldborough was walled round in the time of the Romans, and portions ofthe walls were still to be seen. So many Roman relics had been foundhere that Aldborough had earned the title of the Yorkshire Pompeii. Sointerested were we in its antiquities that we felt very thankful to theclerical dignitary at Ripon for having advised us to be sure to visitthis ancient borough. 

[Illustration: TESSELLATED ROMAN PAVEMENT UNEARTHED AT ALDBOROUGH. ]

We now wended our way to one of the village inns, where we had been toldto ask permission from the landlord to see the Roman tessellatedpavement in his back garden. We were conducted to a building, which hadbeen roofed over to cover it. Our attendant unlocked the door, and afterthe sawdust which covered the floor had been carefully brushed aside, there was revealed to our gaze a beautifully executed floor, in whichthe colours of the small tiles were as bright as if they had beenrecently put there. We could scarcely realise that the work we werelooking at was well-nigh two thousand years old: it looked more like thework of yesterday. It had been accidentally discovered by a man who wasdigging in the garden, at about two feet below the surface of the soil;it was supposed to have formed the floor of a dwelling belonging to somehighly placed Roman officer. We were speculating about the depth of soiland the difference in levels between the Roman Period and the present, but we found afterwards that the preservation of this beautiful work, and of others, was due not to any natural accumulations during theintervening centuries, but to the fact that the devastating Danes hadburnt the town of Aldborough, along with many others, in the year 870, and the increased depth of the soil was due to the decomposition of theburnt ruins and debris. When we noted any event or object dating from1771, we described it as "one hundred years before our visit, " but herewe had an event to record that had happened one thousand years before. Neither the attendant nor the landlord would accept any remuneration fortheir services, and to our cordial thanks replied, "You are quitewelcome. " We now went to see the cottage museum, which was well filledwith Roman relics of all kinds, arranged in such fashion as would havedone credit to a very much larger collection. The Roman remains storedhere were described as "one of the most comprehensive collections ofRoman relics in England, " and included ornaments and articles in glass, iron, and bronze. There was also much pottery and tiles; also coins, images, and all kinds of useful and ornamental articles of the time ofthe Roman Occupation in Britain. Besides self-coloured tiles, there weresome that were ornamented, one representing the "Capitoli Wolf, " astrange-looking, long-legged animal, with its face inclined towards thespectator, while between its fore and hind legs could be seen in thedistance the figures of Romulus and Remus, the founders of the city ofRome, who, tradition states, were suckled in their infancy by a wolf. 

But my brother reminded me that none of these things were fit to eat, and that our breakfast would now be ready, so away we sped to ourlodgings to get our breakfast and to pay our bill, and bid good-bye toour landlady, who was a worthy, willing old soul. Just across the river, about a mile away, was the site of the "White Battle, " fought on October12th, 1319--one of the strangest and most unequal battles ever fought. It occurred after the English had been defeated at Bannockburn, and whenthe Scots were devastating the North of England. The Scots had burnt andplundered Boroughbridge in 1318 under Sir James Douglas, commonly known, on account perhaps of his cruelty, as the "Black Douglas. " Even thechildren were afraid when his name was mentioned, for when they werenaughty they were frightened with the threat that if they were not goodthe Black Douglas would be coming; even the very small children werefamiliar with his name, for a nursery song or lullaby of that periodwas--

 Hush ye, hush ye, little pet ye, Hush ye, hush ye, do not fret ye, The Black Douglas shall not get ye. 

Just before the "White Battle" the English Queen Isabel, wife of EdwardII, had taken up her abode with a small retinue in the country nearYork, when an effort was made by the Scots to capture her; they nearlysucceeded, for she only just managed to get inside the walls of Yorkwhen the Scots appeared and demanded admittance. This was refused by theaged Archbishop Melton, who had the bulwarks manned and thefortifications repaired and defended. The Scots were enraged, as Yorkwas strongly fortified, and they shouted all manner of epithets to thepeople behind the walls; one of them actually rode up to the MicklegateBar and accused the queen of all manner of immoralities, challenging anyman to come forth and clear her fame. The Archbishop in a stirringappeal called upon every man and youth to attack the invaders. Hiseloquence was irresistible, and although there were not more than fiftytrained soldiers in the city, they attacked the Scots, who retreated. The Archbishop's army was utterly unskilled in the arts of war, andcarried all kinds of weapons, many of them obsolete. The Bishop of Ely, Lord High Chancellor of England, rode alongside the Archbishop, andbehind them rode the Lord Mayor, followed by a multitude of clergy inwhite surplices, with monks, canons, friars, and other ecclesiastics, all fully dressed in the uniform of their offices. But only one resultwas possible, for they were opposed to 16, 000 of Robert Bruce'sbest-trained soldiers. Meantime the Scots did not know the character ofthe foe before whom they were retreating, but, crossing the River Swalenear the point where it meets the Yore, they set fire to a number ofhaystacks, with the result that the smoke blew into the faces of theArchbishop and his followers, as the wind was blowing in theirdirection. They, however, pressed bravely forward, but the Scotsattacked them both in front and rear, and in less than an hour fourthousand men and youths, their white robes stained with blood, werelying dead on the field of battle, while many were drowned in the river. The sight of so many surpliced clergy struck terror into the heart ofthe Earl of Murray and his men, who, instead of pursuing farther theretreating army, amongst whom were the aged Archbishop and hisprelates--the Lord Mayor had been killed--retired northwards. 

Through the long hours of that night women, children, and sweetheartsgazed anxiously from the walls of York, watching and waiting for thosewho would never return, and for many a long year seats were vacant inthe sacred buildings of York. Thus ended the "Battle of the White, " sonamed from the great number of surpliced clergy who took part therein. The old Archbishop escaped death, and one of the aged monks wrote that--

 The triumphal standard of the Archbishop also was saved by the cross-bearer, who, mounted on a swift horse, plunged across the river, and leaving his horse, hid the standard in a dense thicket, and escaped in the twilight. The pike was of silver, and on the top was fixed the gilded image of our Lord Jesus Christ. Near where it was hidden a poor man was also hiding, and he twisted some bands of hay round it, and kept it in his cottage, and then returned it to the Bishop. 

About this time England was like a house divided against itself, for thebarons had revolted against King Edward II. A battle was again fought atBoroughbridge on June 22nd, 1322, between the rebel army led by theEarls of Lancaster and Hereford, and the King's forces who were pursuingthem. They were obliged to retreat over the bridge, which at that timewas built of wood; but when they reached it, they found another part ofthe King's army of whose presence they were unaware, so they had tofight for the possession of the bridge. During the fight a Welshman, armed with a long spear, and who was hidden somewhere beneath thebridge, contrived to thrust his spear through an opening in the timbersright into the bowels of Humphrey de Bohun, the Earl of Hereford, whofell forward mortally wounded. Thus died one of the most renownedwarriors in England. The Earl of Lancaster made a final effort to crossthe bridge, but his troops gave way and fled, the Earl taking refuge inthe old chapel of Boroughbridge, from which he was dragged, stripped ofhis armour, and taken to York. Thence he was conveyed to his own castleat Pontefract, and lowered into a deep dungeon, into which, we weretold, when we visited that castle later, he had himself lowered others, and soon afterwards he was condemned to death by the revengeful Edward, who had not forgotten the Earl's share in the death of his favourite, Piers Gaveston. Mounted on a miserable-looking horse, amidst the gibesand insults of the populace, he was led to the block, and thus diedanother of England's famous warriors. 

[Illustration: OLIVER CROMWELL, THE GREAT PARLIAMENTARIAN. ]

Needless to relate, we had decided to visit York Minster as our nextgreat object of interest after Fountains Abbey, and by accident ratherthan design we had in our journey to and from York to pass over twobattle-fields of first importance as decisive factors in the history ofEngland--viz. , Marston Moor and Towton Field. Marston Moor lay along ourdirect road from Aldborough to York, a distance of about sixteen miles. Here the first decisive battle was fought between the forces of KingCharles I and those of the Parliament. His victory at Marston Moor gaveCromwell great prestige and his party an improved status in all futureoperations in the Civil War. Nearly all the other battles whose sites wehad visited had been fought for reasons such as the crushing of arebellion of ambitious and discontented nobles, or perhaps to repel aprovoked invasion, and often for a mere change of rulers. Men had foughtand shed their blood for persons from whom they could receive nobenefit, and for objects in which they had no interest, and the countryhad been convulsed and torn to pieces for the gratification of theprivileged few. But in the Battle of Marston Moor a great principle wasinvolved which depended en the issue. It was here that King and Peoplecontended--the one for unlimited and absolute power, and the other forjustice and liberty. The iron grasp and liberty-crushing rule of theTudors was succeeded by the disgraceful and degrading reign of theStuarts. The Divine Right of Kings was preached everywhere, while inCharles I's corrupt and servile Court the worst crimes on earth werepractised. Charles had inherited from his father his presumptuousnotions of prerogative and Divine Right, and was bent upon being anabsolute and uncontrolled sovereign. He had married Henrietta, thedaughter of the King of France, who, though possessed of great wit andbeauty, was of a haughty spirit, and influenced Charles to favour theRoman Catholic Church as against the Puritans, then very numerous inBritain, who "through the Bishop's courts were fined, whipt, pilloried, and imprisoned, so that death was almost better than life. "

[Illustration: JOHN HAMPDEN. ]

A crisis had to come, and either one man must yield or a whole nationmust submit to slavery. The tax named "Ship Money, " originally levied inthe eleventh century to provide ships for the Navy, was reintroduced byCharles in 1634 in a very burdensome form, and the crisis came whichresulted in the Civil War, when Hampden, who resided in theneighbourhood of the Chiltern Hills, one of the five members ofParliament impeached by Charles, refused to pay the tax on the groundthat it was illegal, not having been sanctioned by Parliament. He losthis case, but the nation was aroused and determined to vindicate itspower. Hampden was killed in a small preliminary engagement in the earlystages of the war. The King was supported by the bulk of the nobility, proud of their ancient lineage and equipments of martial pomp, and bytheir tenants and friends; while the strength of the Parliamentary Armylay in the town population and the middle classes and independentyeomanry: prerogative and despotic power on the one hand, and libertyand privilege on the other. The Royal Standard was raised at Nottinghamand the din of arms rang through the kingdom. The fortress of Hull hadbeen twice besieged and bravely defended, and the drawn Battle ofEdgehill had been fought. In the early part of 1644 both parties beganthe war in earnest. A Scottish army had been raised, but its advance hadbeen hindered by the Marquis of Newcastle, the King's commander in thenorth. In order to direct the attention of Newcastle elsewhere, LordFernando Fairfax and Sir Thomas his son, who had been commissioned byParliament to raise forces, attacked Bellasis, the King's YorkshireCommander, and Governor of York, who was at Selby with 2, 000 men, anddefeated them with great loss, capturing Bellasis himself, many of hismen, and all his ordnance. Newcastle, dismayed by the news, hastened toYork and entered the city, leaving the Scots free to join Fairfax atNetherby, their united forces numbering 16, 000 foot and 4, 000 horse. These partially blockaded York, but Newcastle had a strong force and wasan experienced commander, and with a bridge across the River Ouse, and astrong body of horse, he could operate on both sides of the stream; soCrawford, Lindsey, and Fairfax sent messengers to the Earl ofManchester, who was in Lincolnshire, inviting him to join them. Hebrought with him 6, 000 foot and 3, 000 horse, of the last of which OliverCromwell was lieutenant-general. Even then they could not invest thecity completely; but Newcastle was beginning to lose men and horses, anda scarcity of provisions prevailed, so he wrote to the King that he mustsurrender unless the city could be relieved. Charles then wrote toPrince Rupert, and said that to lose York would be equivalent to losinghis crown, and ordered him to go to the relief of York forthwith. 

[Illustration: PRINCE RUPERT. ]

Rupert, the son of Frederick V, Elector of Bavaria, and a nephew ofCharles I, was one of the most dashing cavalry officers in Europe. Helost no time in carrying out his commission, and in a few days Newcastlereceived a letter saying that he was stabling his horses that same nightat Knaresborough, and that he would be at York the following day, Rupert's own horse being stabled that same night in the church atBoroughbridge. The news was received with great rejoicings by thebesieged garrison and the people in York, but spread dismay amongst thebesiegers, who thought York was about to capitulate. To stay in theirpresent position was to court disaster, so they raised the siege andencamped on Hessey Moor, about six miles away, in a position whichcommanded the road along which Rupert was expected to travel. But byexercise of great military skill he crossed the river at an unexpectedpoint and entered York on the opposite side. The Prince, as may beimagined, was received with great rejoicings; bells were rung, bonfireslighted, and guns fired, and the citizens went wild with triumphantexcitement. Difficulties arose, however, between Newcastle, who was athoughtful and experienced commander, and Rupert, who, having relievedthe city, wanted to fight the enemy at once. As he scornfully refusedadvice, Newcastle retired, and went with the army as a volunteer only, Meantime there were dissensions among the Parliamentary generals, whowere divided in their opinions--the English wishing to fight, and theScots wishing to retreat. They were all on their way to Tadcaster, insearch of a stronger position, when suddenly the vanguard of Rupertreached the rearguard of the other army at the village of Long Marston. This division of the retreating army included their best soldiers, andwas commanded by Leslie and two other brave men, Sir Thomas Fairfax andOliver Cromwell. Their rearguard halted, and, seeing the plain coveredwith pursuers, they sent word to the generals who had gone on in front, asking them to return and take possession of the dry land of the Moor, which was higher than that occupied by the Royalist army. OliverCromwell had already risen in the opinion of the army by his conduct inLincolnshire, and he was dreaded by the Royalists, for he had alreadyshown his ability to command. Stalwart and clumsy in frame, he had aniron constitution, and was a bold and good rider and a perfect master ofthe broadsword then in use. He had also a deep knowledge of humannature, and selected his troopers almost entirely from the sons ofrespectable farmers and yeomen, filled with physical daring andreligious convictions, while his own religious enthusiasm, and hissuperiority in all military virtues, gave him unbounded power as aleader:

 What heroes from the woodland sprung When through the fresh awakened land The thrilling cry of freedom rung. And to the work of warfare strung The Yeoman's iron hand. 

The generals who had gone on in front now returned with their men to theassistance of their rearguard, and the whole army was brought intoposition on the high ground in the middle of the day, July 2nd, 1644. The position was a good one, sloping down gradually towards the enemy. The Royalist army numbered about 23, 500 men, and that of the Parliamentslightly more. It must have been a wonderful sight to see these 50, 000of the best and bravest men the kingdom could produce, ready to woundand kill each other. The war-cry of the Royalists was "God and theKing, " and that of the others was "God with us"--both sides believingthey were fighting for the cause of religion. There were curses on oneside and prayers on the other, each captain of the Parliament prayed atthe head of his company and each soldier carried a Bible bearing thetitle "The Souldier's Pocket Bible, issued for use in the CommonwealthArmy in 1643. " It only consisted of fifteen pages of special passagesthat referred particularly to the soldier's life and temptations. Cromwell stood on the highest point of the field--the exact position, locally know as "Cromwell's Gap, " was pointed out to us--but at the timeof the great battle it was covered with a clump of trees, of which nowonly a few remained. The battle, once begun, raged with the greatestfury; but Cromwell and his "Ironsides" (a name given to them because oftheir iron resolution) were irresistible, and swept through the enemylike an avalanche; nothing could withstand them--and the weight of theironset bore down all before it. Their spirit could not be subdued orwearied, for verily they believed they were fighting the battles of theLord, and that death was only a passport to a crown of glory. Newcastle's "White Coats, " a regiment of thoroughly trained soldiersfrom the borders of Cheshire and Wales, who would not retreat, werealmost annihilated, and Prince Rupert himself only escaped through thesuperior speed of his horse, and retired into Lancashire with theremains of his army, while Newcastle and about eighty others fled toScarborough, and sailed to Antwerp, leaving Sir Thomas Glemham, theGovernor of York, to defend that city. But as most of his artillery hadbeen lost at Marston Moor, and the victors continued the siege, he wassoon obliged to surrender. He made a very favourable agreement with thegenerals of the Parliamentarian forces, by the terms of which, consisting of thirteen clauses, they undertook to protect the propertyand persons of all in the city, not plunder or deface any churches orother buildings, and to give a safe conduct to officers and men--whowere to march out with what were practically the honours of war--as faras Skipton. 

The agreement having been signed by both parties on July 16th, 1644, SirThomas Glemham, with his officers and men, marched out of the city ofYork with their arms, and "with drums beating, colours flying, matchlighted, bullet in mouth, bag and baggage, " made for Skipton, where theyarrived safely. The Battle of Marston Moor was a shock to the Royalistcause from which it never recovered. 

[Illustration: YORK MINSTER. ]

From Marston Moor we continued along the valley of the River Ouse untilwe arrived at the city of York, which Cromwell entered a fortnight afterthe battle; but we did not meet with any resistance as we passed throughone of its ancient gateways, or "bars. " We were very much impressed withthe immense size and grandeur of the great Minster, with its threetowers rising over two hundred feet in height. We were too late to seethe whole of the interior of this splendid old building, but gazed witha feeling of wonder and awe on one of the largest stained-glass windowsin the world, about seventy feet high, and probably also the oldest, asit dated back about five hundred years. The different scenes depicted inthe beautiful colours of the ancient glass panels represented everyimportant Biblical event from the Creation downwards. We were surprisedto find the window so perfect, as the stained-glass windows we had seenelsewhere had been badly damaged. But the verger explained that when theMinster was surrendered to the army of the Commonwealth in the CivilWar, it was on condition that the interior should not be damaged nor anyof the stained glass broken. We could not explore the city further thatafternoon, as the weather again became very bad, so we retreated to ourinn, and as our sorely-tried shoes required soling and heeling, wearranged with the "boots" of the inn to induce a shoemaker friend of hisin the city to work at them during the night and return them thoroughlyrepaired to the hotel by six o'clock the following morning. During theinterval we wrote our letters and read some history, but our room wassoon invaded by customers of the inn, who were brought in one by one tosee the strange characters who had walked all the way from John o'Groat's and were on their way to the Land's End, so much so that webegan to wonder if it would end in our being exhibited in some show inthe ancient market-place, which we had already seen and greatly admired, approached as it was then by so many narrow streets and avenues linedwith overhanging houses of great antiquity. We were, however, verypleased with the interest shown both in ourselves and the object of ourwalk, and one elderly gentleman seemed inclined to claim some sort ofrelationship with us, on the strength of his having a daughter who was aschoolmistress at Rainford village, in Lancashire. He was quite a jovialold man, and typical of "a real old English gentleman, one of the oldentime. " He told us he was a Wesleyan local preacher, but had developed aweakness for "a pipe of tobacco and a good glass of ale. " He said thatwhen Dick Turpin rode from London to York, his famous horse, "BlackBess, " fell down dead when within sight of the towers of the Minster, but the exact spot he had not been able to ascertain, as the towerscould be seen from so long a distance. York, he said, was an older citythan London, the See of York being even older than that of Canterbury, and a Lord Mayor existed at York long before there was one in London. Hedescribed the grand old Minster as one of the "Wonders of the World. " Hewas very intelligent, and we enjoyed his company immensely. 

[Illustration: YORK MINSTER. ]

[Illustration: MICKLEGATE BAR, YORK. ]

[Illustration: STONE GATE, YORK. ]

York was the "Caer Ebranc" of the Brigantes, where Septimus Severus, theRoman Emperor, died in A. D. 211, and another Emperor, Constantius, in306. The latter's son, who was born at York, was there proclaimedEmperor on the death of his father, to become better known afterwards asConstantine the Great. In A. D. 521 King Arthur was said to have spentChristmas at York in company with his courtiers and the famous Knightsof the Round Table; but Geoffrey of Monmouth, who recorded this, wassaid to have a lively imagination in the way of dates and perhaps ofpersons as well. It is, however, certain that William the Conquerorbuilt a castle there in 1068, and Robert de Clifford a large tower. 

(_Distance walked sixteen miles_. )

_Wednesday, October 25th. _

The boots awoke us early in the morning, only to say that he had sent amessenger unsuccessfully into the town for our shoes; all theconsolation he got was that as soon as they were finished, his friendthe shoemaker would send them down to the hotel. It was quite an hourafter the time specified when they arrived, but still early enough toadmit of our walking before breakfast round the city walls, which wefound did not encircle the town as completely as those of our countytown of Chester. Where practicable we explored them, and saw manyancient buildings, including Clifford's Tower and the beautiful ruins ofSt. Mary's Abbey. We also paid a second visit to the ancientmarket-place, with its quaint and picturesque surroundings, beforereturning to our inn, where we did ample justice to the good breakfastawaiting our arrival. 

[Illustration: MONK BAR, YORK. ]

We left the City of York by the same arched gateway through which we hadentered on the previous day, and, after walking for about a mile on theRoman road leading to Tadcaster, the CALCARIA of the Romans and our nextstage, we arrived at the racecourse, which now appeared on our left. Here we entered into conversation with one of the officials, whohappened to be standing there, and he pointed out the place where informer years culprits were hanged. From what he told us we gathered thatthe people of York had a quick and simple way of disposing of theircriminals, for when a man was sentenced to be hanged, he was taken tothe prison, and after a short interval was placed in a cart, to which ahorse was attached, and taken straightway to the gallows. Here a ropewas suspended, with a noose, or running knot, at the end, which wasplaced round the culprit's neck, and after other preliminaries thehangman saw to it that the man's hands were securely handcuffed and thenoose carefully adjusted. At a given signal from him the cart was drawnfrom under the man's feet, leaving him swinging and struggling forbreath in the air, where he remained till life was extinct. The judgewhen passing the death-sentence always forewarned the prisoner whatwould happen to him, and that he would be taken from there to theprison, and thence to the place of execution, "where you will be hangedby the neck until you are dead, dead, dead. " Why he repeated the lastword over and over again we could not explain. It was spoken verysolemnly, and after the first time he used it there was a pause, andafter the second, a longer pause, and then came the third in an almostsepulchral tone of voice, while a death-like silence pervaded the court, each word sounding like an echo of the one before it:dead!--dead!!--dead!!! Perhaps, like the Trinity, it gave a sense ofcompletion. 

[Illustration: ST. MARY'S ABBEY, YORK. ]

The executions in those days were public, and many people attended themas they would a fair or the races; and when held outside the towns, asat York, a riotous mob had it in its power either to lynch or rescue theprisoner. But hangings were afterwards arranged to take place on ascaffold outside the prison wall, to which the prisoner could walk fromthe inside of the prison. The only one we ever went to see was outsidethe county gaol, but the character of the crowd of sightseers convincedus we were in the wrong company, and we went away without seeing theculprit hanged! There must have been a great crowd of people on the Yorkracecourse when Eugene Aram was hanged, for the groans and yells ofexecration filled his ears from the time he left the prison until hereached the gallows and the cart was drawn from under him, adding to theagony of the moment and the remorse he had felt ever since the foulcrime for which he suffered. As we stood there we thought what an awfulthing it must be to be hanged on the gallows. [Footnote: In later yearswe were quite horrified to receive a letter from a gentleman inYorkshire who lived in the neighbouring of Knaresborough in which hewrote: "I always feel convinced in my own mind that Eugene Aram wasinnocent. Note these beautiful lines he wrote the night before hisexecution:

 "Come, pleasing rest! eternal slumber fall, Seal mine, that once must seal the eyes of all; Calm and composed, my soul her journey takes, No _guilt_ that _troubles_, and no _heart_ that _aches_! Adieu, thou sun! all bright like her arise; Adieu, fair friends! and all that's good and wise. 

"I could give you, " he added, "the most recent thoughts and opinionsabout the tragedy, and they prove beyond doubt his innocence!"]

But, like other dismal thoughts, we got rid of it as soon as possible bythinking how thankful we should be that, instead of being hanged, wewere walking through the level country towards Tadcaster, a Romanstation in the time of Agricola. 

From some cause or other we were not in our usual good spirits that day, which we accounted for by the depression arising from the dull autumnalweather and the awful histories of the wars he had been reading theprevious night. But we afterwards attributed it to a presentiment ofevil, for we were very unfortunate during the remainder of the week. Perhaps it is as well so; the human race would suffer much inanticipation, did not the Almighty hide futurity from His creatures. 

[Illustration: OLD GOTHIC CHURCH, TADCASTER. ]

Just before reaching Tadcaster we crossed the River Wharfe, which we hadseen higher up the country, much nearer its source. Here we turned tothe left to visit Pontefract, for the sole reason, for aught we knew, that we had heard that liquorice was manufactured there, an article thatwe had often swallowed in our early youth, without concerning ourselveswhere or how that mysterious product was made. It was quite a change tofind ourselves walking through a level country and on a level road, andpresently we crossed the River Cock, a small tributary of the Wharfe, close by the finely wooded park of Grimstone, where Grim the Viking, orSea Pirate, settled in distant ages, and gave his name to the place; hewas also known as "the man with the helmet. " We then came to the smallhamlet of Towton, where on the lonely heath was fought the Battle ofTowton Field, one of the most bloody battles recorded in Englishhistory. This great and decisive battle was fought in the Wars of theRoses, between the rival Houses of York and Lancaster, for thepossession of the English Crown--a rivalry which began in the reign ofHenry VI and terminated with the death of Richard III at the Battle ofBosworth Field. It has been computed that during the thirty years thesewars lasted, 100, 000 of the gentry and common people, 200 nobles, and 12princes of the Royal Blood were killed, all this carnage taking placeunder the emblems of love and purity, for the emblem or badge of theHouse of Lancaster was the red rose, and that of York the white. Therivalry between the two Houses only came to an end when Henry VII, theLancastrian, married the Princess Elizabeth, the daughter of Edward IV, the Yorkist. The Battle of Towton, like many others both before andsince, was fought on a Sunday, which happened to be Palm Sunday in theyear 1461, and the historian relates that on that day the "heavens wereovercast, and a strong March wind brought with it a blinding snowstorm, right against the faces of the Lancastrians as they advanced to meet theYorkists, who quickly took advantage of the storm to send many furiousshowers of arrows from their strong bows right into the faces of theLancastrians, causing fearful havoc amongst them at the very outset ofthe battle. These arrows came as it were from an unknown foe, and whenthe Lancastrians shot their arrows away, they could not see that theywere falling short of the enemy, who kept advancing and retreating, andwho actually shot at the Lancastrians with their own arrows, which hadfallen harmlessly on the ground in front of the Yorkists. When theLancastrians had nearly emptied their quivers, their leaders hurriedtheir men forward to fight the enemy, and, discarding their bows, theycontinued the battle with sword, pike, battle-axe, and bill. Thus fornearly the whole of that Sabbath day the battle raged, the hugestruggling mass of humanity fighting like demons, and many times duringthat fatal day did the fortune of war waver in the balance: sometimesthe White Rose trembling and then the Red, while men fought each otheras if they were contending for the Gate of Paradise! For ten hours, withuncertain result, the conflict raged, which Shakespeare compared to "thetide of a mighty sea contending with a strong opposing wind, " but thearrival of 5, 000 fresh men on the side of the Yorkists turned the scaleagainst the Lancastrians, who began to retreat, slowly at first, butafterwards in a disorderly flight. The Lancastrians had neveranticipated a retreat, and had not provided for it, for they felt assure of victory as the great Duke of Wellington at Waterloo, who, whenhe was asked by a military expert what provision he had made for retreatin the event of losing the battle, simply answered, "None!" TheLancastrians were obliged to cross the small River Cock in theirretreat, and it seemed almost impossible to us that a small stream likethat could have been the cause of the loss of thousands upon thousandsof the finest and bravest soldiers in England. But so it happened. Therewas only one small bridge over the stream, which was swollen and ranswiftly in flood. This bridge was soon broken down with the rush of menand horses trying to cross it, and although an active man to-day couldeasily jump over the stream, it was a death-trap for men weighted withheavy armour and wearied with exertion, the land for a considerabledistance on each side the river being very boggy. As those in front sankin the bog, those from behind walked over them, and as row after rowdisappeared, their bodies formed the road for others to walk over. Thecarnage was terrible, for King Edward had ordered that no quarter mustbe given and no prisoners taken. It was estimated that 28, 000 of theLancastrians were slaughtered in this battle and in the pursuit whichfollowed, and that 37, 776 men in all were killed on that dreadful day. 

In some parts of Yorkshire the wild roses were very beautiful, rangingin colour from pure white to the deepest red, almost every shade beingrepresented; the variation in colour was attributed to the difference inthe soil or strata in which they grew. But over this battle-field andthe enormous pits in which the dead were buried there grew after thebattle a dwarf variety of wild rose which it was said would not growelsewhere, and which the country people thought emblematical of thewarriors who had fallen there, as the white petals were slightly tingedwith red, while the older leaves of the bushes were of a dull bloodyhue; but pilgrims carried many of the plants away before our time, andthe cultivation of the heath had destroyed most of the remainder. In thegreat Battle of Towton Field many noblemen had perished, but theyappeared to have been buried with the rank and file in the big pits dugout for the burial of the dead, as only a very few could be traced inthe local churchyards. The Earl of Westmorland, however, had been buriedin Saxton church and Lord Dacres in Saxton churchyard, where his remainsrested under a great stone slab, 7 feet long, 4-1/2 feet wide, and 7inches thick, the Latin inscription on which, in old English characters, was rapidly fading away:

 HIC JACET RANULPHUS D. S. DE DAKREET--MILES ET OCCISUS ERAT IN BELLO PRINCIPE HENRICO VIe ANNO DOM 1461. --29 DIE MARTII VIDELICET DOMICA DIE PALMARUM--CUJUS ANIME PROPITIETUR DEUS. --AMEN. 

The local poet, in giving an account of the battle, has written:--

 The Lord Dacres Was slain at Nor acres, for his lordship had been killed in a field known as the North Acres. Hehad removed his gorget, a piece of armour which protected the throat, for the purpose, it was supposed, of getting a drink to quench histhirst, when he was struck in the throat by a bolt, or headless arrow, shot from a cross-bow by a boy who was hiding in a bur-tree or elderbush. The boy-archer must have been a good shot to hit a warrior clothedfrom head to foot in armour in the only vulnerable point exposed, but inthose days boys were trained to shoot with bows and arrows from theearly age of six years, their weapons, being increased in size andstrength as they grew older; their education was not considered completeuntil they could use that terrible weapon known as the English long-bow, and hit the smallest object with their arrows. Lord Dacres was buried inan upright position, and his horse was buried with him; for many yearsthe horse's jaw-bone and teeth were preserved at the vicarage, One ofhis lordship's ancestors, who died fighting on Flodden Field, had beenburied in a fine tomb in Lanercrost Abbey. 

Lord Clifford was another brave but cruel warrior who was killed in asimilar way. He had removed his helmet from some unexplainedcause--possibly to relieve the pressure on his head--when a random arrowpierced his throat; but his death was to many a cause of rejoicing, forowing to his cruel deeds at the Battle of Wakenfield, he had earned thesobriquet of "the Butcher. " While that battle was raging, the Duke ofYork's son, the Earl of Rutland, a youth only seventeen years of age, described as "a fair gentleman and maiden-like person, " was brought byhis tutor, a priest, from the battle-field to shelter in the town. Herehe was perceived by Clifford, who asked who he was. The boy, too muchafraid to speak, fell on his knees imploring for mercy, "both by holdingup his hands and making dolorous countenance, for his speech was gonefrom fear. " "Save him, " said the tutor, "for he is a prince's son and, peradventure, might do you good hereafter. " With that word Cliffordmarked him, and said, "By God's blood thy father slew mine, and so willI thee, and all thy kin, " and, saying this, he struck the Earl to theheart with his dagger, and bade the tutor bear word to his mother andbrothers what he had said and done. Not content with this, when he cameto the body of the Duke, the child's father, he caused the head to becut off and a paper crown to be placed on it; then, fixing it on a pole, he presented it to the Queen, saying, "Madame, your war is done--here isyour King's ransom. " The head was placed over the gates of York by theside of that of the Earl of Salisbury, whom Queen Margaret had orderedto be beheaded. 

For some little time we had been walking through what was known as the"Kingdom of Elmet, " but whether this was associated with the helmet ofGrim we were unable to ascertain, though we shrewdly suspected it was anold Celtic word. We arrived at the village of Sherburn-in-Elmet, animportant place in ancient times, where once stood the palace ofAthelstan, the grandson of Alfred the Great, the first ruler of allEngland, who was crowned King of England in the year 925. In celebrationof his great victory over the combined army of the Danes and Scots atBrunnanburgh, King Athelstan presented his palace here, along with otherportions of the Kingdom of Elmet, to the See of York, and it remainedthe Archbishop of York's Palace for over three hundred years. But whenthe See of York was removed to Cawick, a more convenient centre, theSherburn Palace was pulled down, and at the time of our visit only thesite and a portion of the moat remained. We were much interested in thechurch, as the historian related that "within the walls now existing thevoices of the last Saxon archbishop and the first Norman archbishop havesounded, and in the old church of Sherburn has been witnessed theconsummation of the highest ambition of chivalric enterprise, and allthe pomp attending the great victory of Athelstan at Brunnanburgh. "

Here in the time of Edward II, in 1321, "a secret conclave was held, attended by the Archbishop, the Bishops of Durham and Carlisle, andAbbots from far and near, the Earls of Lancaster and Hereford, and manyBarons, Baronets, and Knights. To this assembly Sir John de Bek, abelted Knight, read out the Articles which Lancaster and his adherentsintended to insist upon. " But what interested us most in the church wasthe "Janus Cross" The Romans dedicated the month of January to Janus, who was always pictured with two faces, as January could look back tothe past year and forwards towards the present. The Janus Cross here hada curious history; it had been found in the ruins of an ancient chapelin the churchyard dedicated to the "Honour of St. Mary and the HolyAngels. " One of the two churchwardens thought it would do to adorn thewalls of his residence, but another parishioner thought it would do toadorn his own, and the dispute was settled by some local Solomon, whosuggested that they should cut it in two and each take one half. So itwas sawn vertically in two parts, one half being awarded to each. Incourse of time the parts were again united and restored to the church. 

[Illustration: ST. JANUS CROSS, SHERBURN-IN-ELMERT CHURCH. ]

Arriving at Ferry Bridge, we crossed the River Aire, which we had seenat its source, but which here claimed to have become one of the mostuseful rivers in Yorkshire, for its waters were valuable for navigationand for the manufacturing towns near which they passed. 

My foot, which had pained me ever since leaving York, so that I had beenlimping for some time, now became so painful that I could scarcely walkat all. Still, we were obliged to reach Pontefract in order to procurelodgings for the night, so my brother relieved me of all my luggageexcepting the stick, in order that I might hobble along to that town. Itwas with great difficulty that I climbed up the hill to the inn, whichwas in the upper part of the town, and there I was painfully relieved bythe removal of my boot, and found that my ankle was seriously swollenand inflamed. It might, of course, have arisen through over-exertion, but we came to the conclusion that it was caused through the repair ofmy boots at York. Before arriving there the heels were badly worn downat one side, and as I had been practically walking on the sides of myfeet, the sudden reversion to the flat or natural position had broughton the disaster that very nearly prevented us from continuing our walk. We applied all the remedies that both our hostess and ourselves couldthink of, but our slumbers that night were much disturbed, and notnearly so continuous as usual. 

(_Distance walked twenty-three and a half miles_. )

_Thursday, October 26th. _

[Illustration: THE OLD CHURCH, PONTEFRACT. ]

The great object of interest at Pontefract was the castle, the ruins ofwhich were very extensive. Standing on the only hill we encountered inour walk of the previous day, it was formerly one of the largest andstrongest castles in England, and had been associated with many stirringhistorical events. It was here that King Richard II was murdered in theyear 1399, and the remains of the dismal chamber where this tragedy tookplace still existed. During the Wars of the Roses, when in 1461 QueenMargaret appeared in the north of Yorkshire with an army of 60, 000 men, the newly appointed King, Edward IV, sent the first portion of his armyto meet her in charge of his most influential supporter, the Earl ofWarwick, the "King Maker. " The King followed him to Pontefract with theremainder of his army, and the old castle must have witnessed awonderful sight when that army, to the number of 40, 660 men, wasmarshalled in the plains below. 

But it was in the Civil War that this castle attained its greatestrecorded notoriety, for it was besieged three times by the forces of theParliament. Sir Thomas Fairfax was in charge of the first siege, andtook possession of the town in 1644, driving the garrison into thecastle. He had a narrow escape from death on that occasion, as acannon-ball passed between him and Colonel Forbes so close that the windcaused by its passage knocked both of them down to the ground, Forbeslosing the sight of one of his eyes. The castle was strongly defended, but just as one of the towers collapsed, a shot from the castle struck amatch, and the spark, falling into Fairfax's powder stores, caused atremendous explosion which killed twenty-seven of his men. In January1645 Forbes sent a drum to the castle to beat a parley, but theGovernor, Colonel Lowther, and his brave garrison said they would go onwith the defence to the last extremity. The besiegers then began to laymines, but these were met by counter-mines driven by the garrison, whonow began to suffer from want of food. At this critical moment aRoyalist force of 2, 000 horse arrived under Sir Marmaduke Langdale, whohad made a forced march from Oxford to relieve the garrison. He droveoff the besiegers, first to Ferry Bridge, and afterwards to Sherburn andTadcaster, inflicting severe loss, and so the garrison was revictualled. The Parliamentary forces, however, soon made their appearance again, andon March 21st, 1645, the second siege began. They again took possessionof the town, and after four months of incessant cannonading the garrisoncapitulated and the castle was garrisoned by the other side. 

The war continued in other parts of the country, and towards the end ofit a conspiracy was formed by the Royalists to recover possession of thecastle, which through the treachery of a Colonel Maurice was successful. Many of the garrison at that time lived outside the walls of the castle, and Maurice persuaded the Governor, Cotterel, to order them to movetheir homes inside, to which he assented, issuing an order in thecountry for beds to be provided on a certain day. Taking advantage ofthis, Maurice and another conspirator dressed themselves as countrygentlemen, with swords by their sides, and with nine others, disguisedas constables, made their appearance at the castle entrance early in themorning, so as to appear like a convoy guarding the safe passage of thegoods. The Governor, who kept the keys, was still in bed, and thesoldier on guard at the inside of the gates, who was in league withMaurice, went to inform him the beds had arrived. He handed over thekeys, and, not suspecting treachery, remained in bed with his sword athis side as usual. The remainder of the conspirators then drew theirswords, and the garrison, on condition that their lives should bespared, surrendered, and were put into one of the prison dungeons. Theconspirators then went to the room of the Governor, who, hearing anoise, jumped out of bed and defended himself, but was soon wounded, disarmed, and placed in the dungeon along with the rest, while theRoyalists took possession of the castle. This happened in June 1648. 

The dungeons in the castle, which were still to be seen, were of themost awful description, for, sunk deep down into the solid rock, it wasscarcely necessary to write over them--

 Abandon Hope, all ye who enter here. 

There was one dungeon under the Round Tower, which was reached bypassing down some winding steps, into which no ray of light everentered, as dark and dismal a place as could be imagined. Here EarlRivers and his fellow peers were incarcerated, praying for theirexecution to end their misery. There was also a cellar for the storageof food and drink, sunk some forty or fifty feet in the solid rock, andcapable of holding two or three hundred men, and this too was used as adungeon by the Royalists. Here the prisoners taken by the Royalist armywere confined, and many of their names appeared cut in the walls ofsolid rock. The history of these places, if it could be written, wouldform a chapter of horrors of the most dreadful character, as in oldentimes prisoners were often forgotten by their captors, and left in thedungeons to perish. 

It was not without a tinge of satisfaction that we heard that the Earlof Lancaster, to whom the castle belonged, was himself placed in one ofthese dungeons after the Battle of Boroughbridge in 1322, and afterbeing imprisoned there a short time, where he had so often imprisonedothers, was led out to execution. 

The third siege of Pontefract Castle happened in the autumn of 1648, forafter the Parliamentarians had gained the upper hand, the castles thatstill held out against them were besieged and taken, but the turn ofPontefract Castle came last of all. Oliver Cromwell himself undertook tosuperintend the operations, and General Lambert, one of the ablest ofCromwell's generals, born at Kirkby Malham, a Yorkshire village throughwhich we had passed some days before, was appointed Commander-in-Chiefof the forces. He arrived before the castle on December 4th, 1648, butsuch was the strength of the position that though he had a large numberof soldiers and a great service of artillery, it was not until March25th, 1649, when scarcely one hundred men were left to defend the walls, that the garrison capitulated. Meantime the tremendous effect of theartillery brought to bear against them had shattered the walls, andfinally Parliament ordered the castle to be dismantled. With thesurrender of this castle the Civil War came to an end, but not beforeKing Charles I had been beheaded. 

[Illustration: THE GATE AND KEEP, PONTEFRACT CASTLE. ]

Last year, before we began our walk from London to Lancashire, wevisited Whitehall and saw the window in the Banqueting-hall throughwhich, on January 30th, 1649, about two months before Pontefract Castlesurrendered, he passed on his way to the scaffold outside. 

In its prime Pontefract Castle was an immense and magnificentfortification, and from its ruins we had a fine view on all sides of thecountry it had dominated for about six hundred years. 

We were now journeying towards the more populous parts of the country, and the greater the mileage of our walk, the greater became the interesttaken both in us and our adventures. Several persons interviewed us inour hotel at Pontefract, and much sympathy was extended towards myself, as my foot was still very painful in spite of the remedies which hadbeen applied to it; but we decided not to give in, my brother kindlyconsenting to carry all the luggage, for we were very anxious not tojeopardise our twenty-five miles' daily average beyond recovery. My bootwas eased and thoroughly oiled; if liquorice could have done it anygood, we could have applied it in addition to the other remedies, as wehad bought some both for our own use and for our friends to eat when wereached home. All we had learned about it was that it was made from theroot of a plant containing a sweet juice, and that the Greek name of itwas _glykyr-rhiza_, from _glykys_, sweet, and _rhiza_, root. Aftermaking a note of this formidable word, I did not expect my brother toeat any more liquorice; but his special aversion was not Greek, butLatin, as he said both his mind and body had been associated with thatlanguage through the medium of the cane of his schoolmaster, whobelieved in the famous couplet:

 'Tis Education forms the common mind. And with the cane we drive it in behind!

He was always suspicious of the Latin words attached to plants, andespecially when quoted by gardeners, which I attributed to jealousy oftheir superior knowledge of that language; but it appeared that it wasfounded on incidents that occurred many years ago. 

He was acquainted with two young gardeners who were learning theirbusiness by working under the head gardener at a hall in Cheshire, theowner of which was proud of his greenhouses and hothouses as well as ofthe grounds outside. As a matter of course everything appeared up todate, and his establishment became one of the show-places in theneighbourhood. The gardener, an elderly man, was quite a character. Hewas an Irishman and an Orangeman as well, and had naturally what wasknown in those parts as "the gift of the gab. " The squire's wife wasalso proud of her plants, and amongst the visitors to the gardens weremany ladies, who often asked the gardener the name of a plant that wasstrange to them. As no doubt he considered it _infra dig. _ to say he didnot know, and being an Irishman, he was never at a loss when asked, "What do you call this plant?" he would reply, "Oh, that, mum, is theHibertia Canadensus, mum!" and a further inquiry would be answered in asimilar manner--"That, mum, is the Catanansus Rulia, mum!" and again thelady would thank him and walk on apparently quite pleased and happy, probably forgetting the name of the plant before she had gone throughthe gardens. The young men were often at work in the houses while thevisitors were going through, and of course they were too deeply engagedin their work either to see the visitors or to hear all the conversationthat was going on, but they told my brother that they could always tellwhen the gardener did not know the real name of a plant by hisinvariably using these two names on such occasions, regardless of thefamily or species of the plant in question. 

Pomfret was the local abbreviation of Pontefract, the name of the town, and "Pomfret Liquorice" claimed not only to be a sweetmeat, but a throatremedy as well, and was considered beneficial to the consumer. Thesample we purchased was the only sweet we had on our journey, for inthose days men and women did not eat sweets so much as in later times, they being considered the special delicacies of the children. The sightof a man or woman eating a sweet would have caused roars of ridicule. Nor were there any shops devoted solely to the sale of sweets in thecountry; they were sold by grocers to the children, though in nothinglike the variety and quantity that appeared in later years. The mostcommon sweet in those days was known as "treacle toffy, " which was soldin long sticks wrapped from end to end in white paper, to protect thechildren's fingers when eating it, in spite of which it was no unusualsight to see both hands and faces covered with treacle marks, and thusarose the name of "treacle chops, " as applied to boys whose cheeks weresmeared with treacle. There was also toffy that was sold by weight, ofwhich Everton toffee was the chief favourite. My brother could remembera little visitor, a cousin of ours, who could not speak very plainly, and who always called a cup a "tup, " being sent to the village shop fora pound of coffee, and his delight when he returned laden with a poundof toffy, which was of course well-nigh devoured before the mistake wasfound out!

By this day we were ready for anything except walking as we crawled outof the town to find our way to Doncaster, and our speed, as might beimagined, was not excessive; for, including stoppages, which werenecessarily numerous, we only averaged one mile per hour! There was agreat bazaar being held in Pontefract that day, to be opened by LordHoughton, and we met several carriages on their way to it. After we hadwalked some distance, we were told--for we stopped to talk to nearlyevery one we met--that we were now passing through Barnsdale Forest. Wecould not see many trees, even though this was formerly the abode ofRobin Hood and Little John, as well as Will Scarlett. 

It was in this forest that Robin, hearing of the approach of the Bishopof Hereford, ordered his men to kill a good fat deer, and to make arepast of it by the side of the highway on which the Bishop wastravelling. Robin dressed himself and six of his men in the garb ofshepherds, and they took their stand by the fire at which the venisonwas being roasted. When the Bishop came up, with his retinue, he askedthe men why they had killed the King's deer, and said he should let theKing know about it, and would take them with him to see the King. 

 "Oh pardon, oh pardon, " said bold Robin Hood, "Oh pardon, I thee pray. For it becomes not your Lordship's coat To take so many lives away. "

 "No pardon, no pardon, " said the Bishop, "No pardon I thee owe; Therefore make haste and come along with me, For before the King ye shall go. "

Then Robin pulled his bugle horn from beneath his coat and blew a longblast, and threescore and ten of his followers quickly appeared--

 All making obeysance to Robin Hood, 'Twas a comely sight to see; "What is the matter, master?" said Little John, "That you blow so heartily?"

Robin replied that the Bishop of Hereford refused all pardon for slayingthe deer, and had said they must at once accompany him to the King. Little John then suggested that they should cut off the Bishop's headand throw him in a grave; but the Bishop craved pardon of the outlaw forhis interference, and declared that had he known who was on the road, "he would have gone some other way. "

 "No pardon, no pardon, " said bold Robin Hood, "No pardon I thee owe; Therefore make haste and come along with me, For to merry Barnsdale you shall go. "

So thither they led the Bishop, and made him sup with them right merrilyand royally. 

 "Call in a reckoning, " said the Bishop, "For methinks it grows wondrous high;" "Lend me your purse, master, " said Little John, "And I'll tell you by and bye!"

 Little John took the Bishop's cloak And spread it upon the ground. And out of the Bishop's portmanteau He told three hundred pound. 

 "Here's money enough, master, " said Little John, "And a comely sight to see; It makes me in charity with the Bishop, Though he heartily loveth not me. "

 Robin took the Bishop by the hand, And he caused the music to play; And he made the Bishop to dance in his boots. And glad he could get away!

[Illustration: DONCASTER RACECOURSE. "We had walked for five days overthe broad acres of Yorkshire and had seen many fine horses, forhorse-breeding was a leading feature of that big county, and horses afrequent subject of conversation. "]

We heard all sorts of stories from the roadmen, some of which might notbe true; but in any case about seven miles from Doncaster we reachedRobin Hood's Well, at the side of the road. It was quite a substantialstructure, built of soft limestone, and arched over, with a seatinside--on which doubtless many a weary wayfarer had rested before us. The interior was nearly covered with inscriptions, one dated 1720 andsome farther back than that. We had a drink of water from the well, butafterwards, when sitting on the seat, saw at the bottom of the well agreat black toad, which we had not noticed when drinking the water. Thesight of it gave us a slight attack of the horrors, for we had aparticular dread of toads. We saw at the side of the road a large housewhich was formerly an inn rejoicing in the sign of "Robin Hood andLittle John, " one of the oldest inns between York and London. We calledat a cottage for tea, and here we heard for the first time of theYorkshireman's coat-of-arms, which the lady of the house told us everyYorkshireman was entitled to place on his carriage free of tax! Itconsisted of a flea, and a fly, a flitch of bacon, and a magpie, whichwe thought was a curious combination. The meaning, however, wasforthcoming, and we give the following interpretation as given to us:

 A flea will bite! and so will a Yorkshireman; A fly will drink out of anybody's cup! and so will a Yorkshireman; A magpie will chatter! and so will a Yorkshireman: And a flitch of bacon looks best when it's hung! and so does a Yorkshireman. 

We fancied a Lancashire man must have written that ditty. 

[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD'S WELL. ]

The moon was shining brightly as we left the cottage, and a man we met, when he saw me limping so badly, stopped us to inquire what was thematter. He was returning from Doncaster, and cheered us up by pointingto the moon, saying we should have the "parish lantern" to light us onour way. This appeared to remind him of his parish church, where aharvest thanksgiving had just been held, with a collection on behalf ofthe hospital and infirmary. He and seven of his fellow servants hadgiven a shilling each, but, although there were "a lot of gentry" at theservice, the total amount of the collection was only one pound odd. Theminister had told them he could scarcely for shame carry it in, as itwas miserably small for an opulent parish like that!

We arrived at Doncaster at 8. 30 p. M. , and stayed at the temperance hotelin West Laith Street. The landlord seemed rather reluctant about lettingus in, but he told us afterwards he thought we were "racing characters, "which greatly amused us since we had never attended a race-meeting inour lives!

(_Distance walked fourteen miles_. )

_Friday, October 27th. _

Our host at Doncaster took a great interest in us, and, in spite of mysprained ankle, we had a good laugh at breakfast-time at his mistakingus for "racing characters. " My brother related to him his experiences onthe only two occasions he ever rode on the back of a horse unassisted. The first of these was when, as quite a young boy, he went to visit hisuncle who resided near Preston in Lancashire, and who thought it afavourable opportunity to teach him to ride. He was therefore placed onthe back of a quiet horse, a groom riding behind him on another horse, with orders not to go beyond a walking pace; but when they came near thebarracks, and were riding on the grass at the side of the road, adetachment of soldiers came marching out through the entrance, headed bytheir military band, which struck up a quickstep just before meeting thehorses. My brother's horse suddenly reared up on its hind legs, andthrew him off its back on to the grass below, or, as he explained it, while the horse reared up he reared down! He was more frightened thanhurt, but the groom could not persuade him to ride on the horse's backany farther, so he had to lead the horses home again, a distance of twomiles, while my brother walked on the footpath. 

It was years before he attempted to ride on horseback again, but thistime he was mounted upon an old horse white with age, and very quiet, which preferred walking to running; this second attempt also endeddisastrously. It was a very hot day, and he had ridden some miles intothe country when he came to a large pit, on the opposite side of theroad to a farmhouse, when, without any warning, and almost before mybrother realised what was happening, the horse walked straight into thispit, and, in bending its head to drink at the water, snatched the bridleout of his hands. He had narrowly escaped drowning on several occasions, and was terrified at the thought of falling into the water, so, clutching hold of the horse's mane with both hands, he yelled out withall his might for help--which only served to make the horse move into adeeper part of the pit, as if to have a bathe as well as a drink. Hiscries attracted the attention of some Irish labourers who were at workin a field, and they ran to his assistance. One of them plunged into thewater, which reached half way up his body, and, taking hold of mybrother, carried him to the road and then returned for the horse. He wasrewarded handsomely for his services, for my brother verily believed hehad saved him from being drowned. He was much more afraid of the waterthan of the horse, which was, perhaps, the reason why he had neverlearned to swim, but he never attempted to ride on horseback again. Onthe wall in front of the farmhouse an old-fashioned sundial wasextended, on the face of which were the words:

 Time that is past will never return, and on the opposite corner were the Latin words _Tempus fugit_ (Timeflies). My brother seemed to have been greatly impressed by theseproverbs, and thought of them as he led the white horse on histhree-mile walk towards home; they seemed engraven upon his memory, forhe often quoted them on our journey. 

[Illustration: THE GUILDHALL, DONCASTER. ]

My ankle seemed to be a shade easier, and, after the usual remedies hadagain been applied, we started on another miserable walk, or limp, forwe only walked twelve miles in twelve hours, following the advice of ourhost to take it easy, and give the ankle time to recover. We rested manytimes on the road, stopped to talk to many people, got to know all aboutthe country we were passing through, read papers and books, called forrefreshments oftener than we needed them, wrote letters to our friends, and made copious entries in our diaries---in fact did everything exceptwalk. The country was very populous, and we attracted almost universalsympathy: myself for my misfortune, and my brother for having to carryall the luggage. 

Doncaster takes its name from the River Don, on which it is situated, and it was the only town in England, after London and York, thatpossessed a "Mansion House. " We had walked for five days over the broadacres of Yorkshire and had seen many fine horses, for horse-breeding, wefound, was a leading feature in that big county, and horses a frequentsubject of conversation. Doncaster was no exception to the rule, as theDoncaster Races were famous all over England, and perhaps in othercountries beyond the seas. We were too late in the year for the greatSt. Leger race, which was held in the month of September, and was alwayspatronised by Royalty. On that occasion almost every mansion in thecounty was filled with visitors "invited down" for the races, and therewas no doubt that agricultural Yorkshire owed much of its prosperity tothe breeding of its fine horses. The racecourse was situated on a moor alittle way out of the town, the property of the Corporation, and it wassaid that the profit made by the races was so great that the Doncasterpeople paid no rates. This might of course be an exaggeration, but therecould be no doubt that the profit made by the Corporation out of themoor on which the races were held would largely reduce the rates of thetown. 

Doncaster races owed their origin to a famous Arab horse namedRasel-Fedawi (or the "Headstrong"), which was purchased from the Anazehtribe of Arabs by a Mr. Darley, an Englishman who at that time residedat Aleppo, a Turkish trading centre in Northern Syria. This gentlemansent the horse to his brother at Aldby Park in Yorkshire, and what arenow known as "thoroughbreds" have descended from him. His immediatedescendants have been credited with some wonderful performances, and the"Flying Childers, " a chestnut horse with a white nose and four whitelegs, bred from a mare born in 1715, named "Betty Leedes, " and owned byLeonard Childers of Doncaster, was never beaten. All sorts of tales weretold of his wonderful performances: he was said to have covered 25 feetat each bound, and to have run the round course at Newmarket, 3 miles 6furlongs, in six minutes and forty seconds. After him came anotherfamous horse named "Eclipse" which could, it was said, run a mile aminute. When he died in 1789 his heart was found to weigh 14 pounds, which accounted for his wonderful speed and courage. Admiral Rousrecords that in the year 1700 the English racehorse was fifteen handshigh, but after the Darley Arabian, the average height rose to oversixteen hands. It was said that there were races at Doncaster in theseventeenth century, but the great St. Leger was founded by General St. Leger in 1778, and the grand stand was built in the following year. TheYorkshire gentlemen and farmers were naturally all sportsmen, and werecredited with keeping "both good stables and good tables. " Theinvitation to "have a bite and a sup" was proverbial, especially in thewold or moorland districts, where hospitality was said to be unbounded. 

A learned man wrote on one occasion that "an honest walk is better thana skilled physician. It stimulates heart, brain, and muscles alike, sweeping cobwebs from the mind and heaviness from the heart. " But thiswas probably not intended to apply to a man with a sore foot, and it wasdifficult to understand why the ankle failure had come so suddenly. Wecould only attribute it to some defect in the mending of the boot atYork, but then came the mystery why the other ankle had not beensimilarly affected. The day was beautifully fine, but the surroundingsbecame more smoky as we were passing through a mining and manufacturingdistrict, and it was very provoking that we could not walk through itquickly. However, we had to make the best of it, imagining we weretreading where the saints had trod, or at any rate the Romans, for thiswas one of their roads to the city of York upon which their legions musthave marched; but while we crossed the rivers over bridges, the Romanscrossed them by paved fords laid in the bed of the streams, traces ofwhich were still to be seen. 

We made a long stay at Comsborough, and saw the scanty remains of thecastle, to which Oliver Cromwell had paid special attention, as, in thewords of the historian, "he blew the top off, " which had never beenreplaced. And yet it had a very long history, for at the beginning ofthe fourth century it was the Burgh of Conan, Earl of Kent, who withMaximian made an expedition to Armorica (now Brittany), where he waseventually made king, which caused him to forsake his old Burgh inEngland. Maximian was a nephew of King Coel, or Cole, the hero of thenursery rhyme, of which there are many versions:

 Old King Cole was a jolly old soul, And a jolly old soul was he; He called for his ale, and he called for his beer, And he called for his fiddle-diddle-dee. 

[Illustration: CONISBOROUGH CASTLE. ]

But he seemed to have been a jolly old sinner as well, for he formed thebrilliant idea of supplying his soldiers with British wives, andarranged with his father-in-law, the Duke of Cornwall, to send himseveral shiploads from the "old country, " for British women were famousfor their beauty. His request was complied with, but a great storm cameon, and some of the ships foundered, while others were blown out oftheir course, as far as Germany, where the women landed amongst savages, and many of them committed suicide rather than pass into slavery. Whohas not heard of St. Ursula and her thousand British virgins, whosebones were said to be enshrined at Cologne Cathedral, until a pryingmedico reported that many of them were only dogs' bones--for whichheresy he was expelled the city as a dangerous malignant. 

Troublesome times afterwards arose in England, and on the Yorkshireside, Briton and Saxon, and Pict and Scot, were mixed up in endlessfights and struggles for existence. It was about this period thatVortigern, the British King, invited Hengist and Horsa, the SaxonPrinces, to lend their assistance against the Picts and the Scots, whichthey did for a time; and when Hengist asked for a residence in hiscountry, the King gave him Conan's Burgh, which was then vacant. Conanwas never again seen in England, but in 489 his great-grandson AureliusAmbrosius became King of the Britons. In the meantime the Saxons had soincreased in numbers that they determined to fight for the possession ofthe country, and, headed by Hengist, who had turned traitor, fought agreat battle, in the course of which Eldol, Duke of Gloucester, encountered Hengist in single combat, and, seizing him by the helmet, dragged him into the British ranks shouting that God had given his sidethe victory. The Saxons were dismayed, and fled in all directions, andHengist was imprisoned in his own fortress of Conisborough, where acouncil of war was held to decide what should be his fate. Some wereagainst his being executed, but Eldol's brother Eldad, Bishop ofGloucester, "a man of great wisdom and piety, " compared him to KingAgag, whom the prophet "hewed to pieces, " and so Hengist was led throughthe postern gate of the castle to a neighbouring hill, and beheaded. Here Aurelius commanded him to be buried and a heap of earth to beraised over him, because "he was so good a knight. " A lady generallyappeared in these old histories as the cause of the mischief, and it wassaid that one reason why King Vortigern was so friendly with Hengist wasthat Hengist had a very pretty daughter named Rowena, whom the Kinggreatly admired: a road in Conisborough still bears her name. 

Aurelius then went to Wales, but found that Vortigern had shut himselfup in a castle into which Aurelius was unable to force an entrance, sohe burnt the castle and the King together; and in a wild place on therocky coast of Carnarvonshire, Vortigern's Valley can still be seen. SirWalter Scott, who was an adept in selecting old ruins for the materialsof his novels, has immortalised Conisborough in his novel of _Ivanhoe_as the residence, about the year 1198, of the noble Athelstane orAthelstone, who frightened his servants out of their wits by demandinghis supper when he was supposed to be dead. 

Yorkshire feasts were famous, and corresponded to the "wakes" inLancashire and Cheshire. There was a record of a feast at Conisboroughon the "Morrow of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, " September 15th, 1320, in the "14th year of King Edward, son of King Edward, " which wascarried out by Sir Ralph de Beeston, one of our Cheshire knights, andSir Simon de Baldiston (Stewards of the Earl of Lancaster), to which thefollowing verse applied:

 They ate as though for many a day They had not ate before. And eke as though they all should fear That they should eat no more. And when the decks were fairly cleared And not a remnant nigh, They drank as if their mighty thirst Would drain the ocean dry. 

A curious old legend was attached to the town well in Wellgate, whichformerly supplied most of the inhabitants of Conisborough with water;for once upon a time, when the town was suffering from a great drought, and the people feared a water famine, they consulted an old man known bythe name of St. Francis, who was very wise and very holy. He told thepeople to follow him singing psalms and hymns to the Willow Vale, on theLow Road. There he cut a wand from a willow tree, and stuck it into theground, and forthwith a copious supply of water appeared which hadflowed steadily ever since. The wand had been so firmly and deeplystuck into the ground by St. Francis that it took root and grew into alarge tree. 

In 1863 there was a great flood in Sheffield, which did a lot of damage, and amongst the debris that floated down the river was noticed a cradlecontaining a little baby. It was rescued with some difficulty, and wasstill alive when we passed through the town, being then eight years old. 

[Illustration: ROCHE ABBEY. ]

After leaving Conisborough we lost sight of the River Don, which runsthrough Mexborough; but we came in touch with it again where it wasjoined by the River Rother, at Rotherham. Here we crossed over it by thebridge, in the centre of which stood the decayed Chapel of our Lady. Onour way we had passed to our right Sprotborough, where in 664 KingWulfhere when out hunting came to a cave at the side of the river wherea hermit named St. Ceadde or St. Chad dwelt, the country at that timebeing "among sheep and distant mountains which looked more likelurking-places for robbers and dens of wild beasts than dwellings ofmen. " There were many objects of interest on each side of our road, including, a few miles to the left, Roche Abbey, the seat of the Earl ofScarborough, and to the right Wentworth House, one of the largestprivate houses in England, and the seat of Earl Fitzwilliam, the ownerof the far-famed Wharncliffe Crags, which are skirted by the waters ofthe River Don. 

It was in Wharncliffe Forest that Friar Tuck, the jolly chaplain ofRobin Hood, had his abode; and below the crags, in the bed of the RiverDon, there was a rock that appeared to be worn by the friction of somecylindrical body coiled about it. This was supposed to be the famousDragon of Wantley, an old name for Wharncliffe. It was here that themonster was attacked and slain by Guy, the famous Earl of Warwick. Nearthe top of the crag, which was formerly a hunting-seat, stood a lodgewhere an inscription on a stone in the floor of the back kitchen statedthat "Geoffrey de Wortley, Knight of the body to the Kings Richard III, Henry VII, and Henry VIII, built this Lodge for his pleasure, so that hemight hear the red deer bray. " In the lodge too was a most ponderousboot said to have been worn by Oliver Cromwell at the Battle of MarstonMoor. We stayed at Rotherham for the night. 

(_Distance walked twelve miles_. )

_Saturday, October 28th. _

The inn where we stayed the night had not been very satisfactory, as, although the cooking was good, the upper apartments were below theaverage. We took to the road again as early as possible, especially as adecided improvement showed itself in the condition of my swollen foot, and we were able to make a little better progress. For some days we hadbeen walking through a comparatively level country, but from theappearance of the hills to our right as well as before us, weanticipated a stiff climb. It was not until we approached Sheffield thatthe tug of war began, and, strange to say, I found it easier to walkuphill than on a level surface. Meantime we continued through a leveland busy country, and were in no danger of losing our way, for therewere many people to inquire of in case of necessity. At one time it hadbeen a wild and lonely place, known as Attercliffe Common, and we weretold that Dick Turpin had been gibbeted there. We had often heard ofTurpin, and knew that he was hanged, but did not remember where, so wewere anxious to see the exact spot where that famous "knight of theroad" ended his existence. We made inquiries from quite a number ofpeople, but could get no satisfactory information, until we met with anelderly gentleman, who informed us that it was not Dick Turpin who wasgibbeted there, but a "gentleman" in the same profession, whose name wasSpence Broughton, the only trace of him now being a lane that bore hisname. As far as he knew, Dick Turpin had never been nearer Sheffieldthan Maltby, a village five miles away, and that was on his ride fromLondon to York. He was hanged at Tyburn. 

The hills we could see were those of the Pennine range, with which wemust have formed acquaintance unconsciously when farther north, asalthough the high hills in the Lake District, through which we hadpassed, were not included in the range, some of the others must havebeen, since the Pennines were bounded on one side by Cumberland, Westmorland, and Lancashire, and on the other by Northumberland, Durham, and Yorkshire, attaining an elevation of 3, 000 feet in the north and2, 000 feet in the south. The Pennines here were described to us as the"backbone of England, " for they were looked upon as being in the centre, equidistant from the east and west coasts, and hereabouts thirty milesin breadth. The district verging upon Sheffield was well known to theRomans as producing the best iron in the world, the ore or iron-stonesbeing obtained in their time by digging up the earth, which was left ingreat heaps after the iron-stones had been thrown out; many of theseexcavations were still to be seen. In manufacturing the iron they tookadvantage of the great forests around them to provide the fuel forsmelting the ore, for it was a great convenience to have the twoelements so near at hand, as it saved carriage from one to the other. Forests still existed thereabouts in the time of Robin Hood, and werewell known to him and his band of "merrie men, " while his jovialchaplain, Friar Tuck, had his hermitage amongst their deep recesses. Many woods round Sheffield still remained in the time of Mary Queen ofScots, who passed some portion of her imprisonment at the old ManorHouse, which was then a castellated mansion. Visitors were now conductedup a narrow flight of stairs to a flat roof covered with lead, fromwhich that unfortunate Queen had looked out over the hills and forests, and breathed the pure air as it passed over them. But now all appearedto be fire and smoke, and the great works which belched them forthseemed a strange and marvellous sight to us after walking so longthrough such lonely districts. 

[Illustration: THE SMOKE OF SHEFFIELD. "The district verging uponSheffield was well known to the Romans as producing the best iron in theworld. "]

Sheffield has a world-wide reputation for its cutlery and for its otherproductions in brass, iron, and steel, for the manufacture of which purewater of a particular variety was essential. The town was well providedin that respect, for no less than five rivers flowed towards Sheffieldfrom the Pennine range above. From the finest steel all sorts of thingswere made, ranging from the smallest needle or steel pen up to thelargest-sized gun or armour-plate. It would no doubt have interested usgreatly to look through one of the works, but such as we passed werelabelled "No admittance except on business, " which we interpreted tomean that no strangers were allowed to enter, lest they might carry awaywith them the secrets of the business, so we walked slowly onward in thehope of reaching, before nightfall, our next great object of interest, "The Great Cavern and Castle of Peveril of the Peak. " Passing along theEcclesall Road, we saw, in nicely wooded enclosures, many of the housesof manufacturers and merchants, who, like ourselves in after life, lefttheir men to sleep in the smoke while they themselves went to breathethe purer air above, for Ecclesall was at a fair elevation above thetown. But one gentleman whom we saw assured us that, in spite of theheavy clouds of smoke we had seen, the town was very healthy, and therewas more sunshine at Sheffield than in any other town in England. 

Shortly afterwards we came to a finger-post where a road turned offtowards Norton and Beauchief Abbey. Norton was the village where thesculptor Chantrey, of whom, and his works, we had heard so much, wasborn, and the monument to his memory in the old church there was anattraction to visitors. Chantrey was a man of whom it might safely besaid "his works do follow, " for my brother, who always explored the wildcorners of the country when he had the opportunity, was once travellingin Wales, and told a gentleman he met that he intended to stay the nightat the inn at the Devil's Bridge. This was not the Devil's Bridge we hadcrossed so recently at Kirkby Lonsdale, but a much more picturesque one, which to visit at that time involved a walk of about thirteen miles inthe mountainous region behind Aberystwyth. 

"Have you ever seen that fine monument by Chantrey there?" asked thegentleman. 

"No, " said my brother in astonishment, knowing the wild nature of thecountry thereabouts. 

"Well, " he said, "mind you go and see it! Here is my card, and when youhave seen it, write me whether you have seen a finer monument in allyour life. "

My brother found the monument in a small church about three miles fromthe hotel in the hills above. He was very much astonished and deeplyimpressed by the sculpture, acknowledging in his promised letter that itwas by far the finest he had seen. The origin of it was as follows:

The owner of the estate had an only child, a daughter, lovely, clever, and accomplished, but slightly deformed in her back. When she wastwenty-one years old she was taken by her parents to London to have herback straightened, but never recovered from the operation. The statuaryrepresented the daughter lying on a couch, her father standing at thehead looking down into the eyes of his dying daughter, while her motheris kneeling at the foot in an attitude of prayer. The daughter'sinstruments of music and painting, with her books, appear under thecouch, while every small detail, from the embroidery on the couch to thecreases in the pillow, are beautifully sculptured. 

This great work of art cost £6, 000, and was exhibited in London for sometime before it was placed in the small church of Hafod. It was said tohave made Chantrey's fortune. 

[Illustration: THE CHANTREY MONUMENT IN HAFOD CHURCH. ]

Beauchief Abbey, we were informed, was built by the murderers of Thomasa Becket in expiation of their sin, but only a few fragments of thebuildings now remained. We halted for rest and refreshments at the "FoxHouse Inn, " which stood at a junction of roads and was formerly thehunting-box of the Duke of Rutland. 

We had by this time left the county of York and penetrated about fourmiles into Derbyshire, a county we may safely describe as being peculiarto itself, for limestone abounded in the greater part of its area. Eventhe roads were made with it, and the glare of their white surfaces undera brilliant sun, together with the accumulation of a white dust whichrose with the wind, or the dangerous slippery mud which formed on themafter rain or snow or frost, were all alike disagreeable to wayfarers. But in later times, if the worthy writer who ventured into that countyon one occasion, had placed his fashionable length on the limy road whenin a more favourable condition than that of wet limy mud, he might havewritten Derbyshire up instead of writing it down, and describing it asthe county beginning with a "Big D. "

[Illustration: THE PLAGUE COTTAGES, EYAM. ]

The colour of the green fields which lined the roads contrasted finelyin the distance with the white surface of the roads, both fields androads alike were neatly fenced in with stone walls. We wondered manytimes where all these stones could have come from, and at the immenseamount of labour involved in getting them there and placing them inposition. Their purpose in breaking the force of the wind was clear, forthe greater part of the county consisted of moors, some portions ofwhich were being cultivated, and although they were almost entirelydevoid of trees, there were plenty of trees to be seen in the valleys, the Dales of Derbyshire being noted for their beauty. The River Derwentran along the valley opposite the inn, and on the other side was thevillage of Eyam, which became famous in the time of the Great Plague ofLondon in 1665. It seemed almost impossible that a remote village likethat could be affected by a plague in London, but it so happened that aparcel arrived by coach from London addressed to a tailor in Eyam, whoopened it with the result that he contracted the disease and died; inthe same month five others died also, making a total of six forSeptember, which was followed by 23 deaths in October, 7 in November, and 9 in December. Then came a hard frost, and it was thought that thegerms would all be killed, but it broke out again in the following Junewith 19 deaths, July 56, August 77, September 24, and October 14, andthen the plague died out--possibly because there were very few peopleleft. During all this time Eyam had been isolated from the rest of theworld, for if a villager tried to get away he was at once driven back, and for any one to go there was almost certain death. The Earl ofDevonshire, who nobly remained at Chatsworth all the time, sentprovisions periodically to a certain point where no one was allowed topass either inwards or outwards. At this time even the coins of therealm were considered to be infectious, and large stones hollowed outlike basins, which probably contained some disinfectant, were placedbetween Eyam and the villages which traded with them. Meantime therector of Eyam, whose name was Mompesson, stood his ground like a truehero, ministering to his parishioners; and, although his wife contractedthe disease and died, and though he referred to himself as "a dyingman, " yet was he mercifully preserved; so too was the Rev. ThomasStanley, who had been ejected from the rectory after eighteen years'service because he would not subscribe to the Corporation Act of 1661. He stood by Mompesson and did his duty quite as nobly; and some yearsafterwards, when some small-minded people appealed to the Duke ofDevonshire as Lord Lieutenant of the county to have Stanley removed, heindignantly refused and rebuked the petitioners very strongly. 

William and Mary Howitt wrote a long poem entitled "The Desolation ofHyam, " and described the village as--

 Among the verdant mountains of the Peak There lies a quiet hamlet, where the slope Of pleasant uplands wards the north winds bleak: Below, wild dells romantic pathways ope: Around, above it, spreads a shadowy cope Of forest trees: flower, foliage and clear rill Wave from the cliffs, or down ravines elope: It seems a place charmed from the power of ill By sainted words of old:--so lovely, lone and still. 

William Wood wrote the _Plague Chronicle_, and on his gravestone wasinscribed:

 Men like visions are; Time all doth claim; He lives who dies and leaves A lasting name. 

We had often read the wonderful epitaphs on the tombs of the nobility, but we had been warned that in former times these were often written byprofessional men who were well paid for their services, and the greaterthe number of heavenly virtues attributed to the deceased, the greaterof course the fee; but those written by the poetical curate of Eyam werebeyond suspicion if we may judge from the couplet he wrote to be placedon the gravestone of a parishioner:

 Since life is short and death is always nigh, On many years to come do not rely. 

We were now passing through Little John's country, and we heard moreabout him in this neighbourhood than of his master, Robin Hood, forLittle John's Well was not far away, and Hathersage, our next stage, waswhere he was buried. We were very much interested in Robin Hood andLittle John, as my name was Robert, and my brother's name was John. Healways said that Little John was his greatest ancestor, for in the oldstory-books his name appeared as John Nailer. But whether we could claimmuch credit or no from the relationship was doubtful, as the stanza inthe old ballad ran:

 Robin Hood did little good And Little John did less. 

In later times the name had been altered to Naylor, in order, wesupposed, to hide its humble though honourable origin; for there was nodoubt that it was a Nailer who fastened the boards on Noah's Ark, andlegend stated that when he came to nail the door on, he nailed it fromthe inside!

The stanza, he explained, might have been written by the Bishop ofHereford or one of Robin Hood's other clients, whom he and Little Johnhad relieved of his belongings; but the name Naylor was a common one inSouth Yorkshire, and, although our branch of the family were natives ofSouth Lancashire, their characteristics showed they were of the samestock, since, like Little John, they were credited with having goodappetites and with being able to eat and retain any kind of food and inalmost any quantity. On one occasion we happened to meet with agentleman named Taylor, and, after remarking there was only one letterdifferent between his name and ours, my brother said, "But we are muchthe older family, " and then named the Noah's Ark incident; when thegentleman quietly remarked, "I can beat you. " "Surely not, " said mybrother. "Yes, I can, " replied Mr. Taylor, "for my ancestor made thetails for Adam's coat! He was a Tailer. " My brother collapsed!

But the greatest blow he received in that direction was when he found amuch more modern story of "Robin Hood and Little John, " which gaveLittle John's real name as John Little, saying that his name was changedto Little John because he was such a big man. My brother was greatlyannoyed at this until he discovered that this version was acomparatively modern innovation, dating from the time of Sir WalterScott's _Talisman_, published in 1825, and inserted there because theproper name would not have suited Sir Walter's rhyme:

 "This infant was called 'John Little, ' quoth he; "Which name shall be changed anon. The words we'll transpose, so wherever he goes His name shall be called Little John. "

On our way from the "Fox House Inn" to Hathersage we passed somestrange-looking rocks which were said to resemble the mouth of a hugetoad; but as we had not studied the anatomy of that strange creature, and had no desire to do so, a casual glance as we walked along a downgradient into Hathersage was sufficient. As we entered the village wesaw a party of men descending a road on our right, from whom we inquiredthe way to Little John's grave, which they told us they had just been tovisit themselves. They directed us to go up the road that they had justcome down, and one of them advised us to call at the small inn which weshould find at the top of the hill, while another man shouted after us, "Aye! and ther's a mon theere 'ats getten 'is gun!" We found the inn, but did not ask to see the gun, being more interested at the time inbows and arrows, so we called at the inn and ordered tea. It was only acottage inn, but the back of it served as a portion of the churchyardwall, and the mistress told us that when Little John lay on his deathbedin the room above our heads, he asked for his bow and arrow, and, shooting through the window which we would see from the churchyard atthe back of the inn, desired his men to bury him on the spot where theyfound his arrow. 

[Illustration: THE TOAD'S MOUTH. ]

We went to see the grave while our tea was being prepared, and found itonly a few yards from the inn, so presumably Little John was very weakwhen he shot the arrow. The grave stood between two yew trees, with astone at the head and another at the foot, the distance between thembeing ten feet. 

The church was a very old one, dating from the early part of thefourteenth century. It was said that a search for Little John's skeletonhad been made in 1784, when only a thigh-bone had been found; but asthis measured twenty-nine and a half inches, a very big man must havebeen buried there. 

On our right across the moor rose sharply what seemed to be a high, continuous cliff, which we were told was the "edge" of one of the thick, hard beds of millstone grit, and as we proceeded the edge seemed to begradually closing in upon us. 

After tea we walked slowly on to Castleton, where we selected a cleanand respectable-looking private house to stay and rest over theweek-end, until Monday morning. 

(_Distance walked twenty-two miles_. )

_Sunday, October 29th. _

We were very comfortable in our apartments at Castleton, our host andhostess and their worthy son paying us every possible attention. Theywere members of the Wesleyan Church, and we arranged with the young manthat if he would go with us to the Parish Church in the morning, wewould go to the Wesleyan Chapel in the evening with him. So in themorning we all went to church, where we had a good old-fashionedservice, and saw a monument to the memory of a former vicar, a Mr. Bagshawe, who was Vicar of Castleton from 1723 to 1769; the epitaph onit described him as--

 A man whose chief delight was in the service of his Master--a sound scholar--a tender and affectionate husband--a kind and indulgent parent--and a lover of peace and quietness, who is gone to that place where he now enjoys the due reward of his labours. 

This Vicar had kept a diary, or journal, from which it appeared that hebegan life in a good position, but lost his money in the "South SeaBubble, " an idea floated in the year 1710 as a financial speculation toclear off the National Debt, the Company contracting to redeem the wholedebt in twenty-six years on condition that they were granted a monopolyof the South Sea Trade. This sounded all right, and a rush was made forthe shares, which soon ran up in value from £100 to £1, 000, fabulousprofits being made. Sir Robert Walpole, who was then Chancellor of theExchequer, and afterwards Prime Minister for the long period oftwenty-two years, was strongly opposed to the South Sea Scheme, andwhen, ten years later, he exposed it, the bubble burst and the wholething collapsed, thousands of people, including the worthy Vicar ofCastleton, being ruined. 

[Illustration: CASTLETON CHURCH. ]

It also appeared from the diary that, like the vicar Goldsmithdescribes, he was "passing rich on forty pounds a year, " for he neverreceived more than £40 per year for his services. The prices he paid forgoods for himself and his household in the year 1748 formed veryinteresting reading, as it enabled us to compare the past with thepresent. 

Bohea Tea was 8s. Per pound; chickens, threepence each; tobacco, onepenny per ounce; a shoulder of mutton cost him fifteen-pence, while theforequarter of a lamb was eighteen-pence, which was also the price of a"Cod's Head from Sheffield. "

He also recorded matters concerning his family. He had a son named Harrywhom he apprenticed to a tradesman in Leeds. On one occasion it appearedthat the Vicar's wife made up a parcel "of four tongues and four pots ofpotted beef" as a present for Hal's master. One of the most pleasingentries in the diary was that which showed that Harry had not forgottenhis mother, for one day a parcel arrived at the Vicarage from Leedswhich was found to contain "a blue China cotton gown, " a present fromHal to his mother. 

 Who fed me from her gentle breast. And hush'd me in her arms to rest, And on my cheeks sweet kisses prest? My Mother. 

 Who sat and watched my infant head When sleeping on my cradle bed. And tears of sweet affection shed? My Mother. 

 Who ran to help me when I fell, And would some pretty story tell, Or kiss the place to make it well? My Mother. 

 Who taught my infant lips to pray. And love God's holy Book and day. And walk in Wisdom's pleasant way? My Mother. 

 And can I ever cease to be Affectionate and kind to thee, Who wast so very kind to me? My Mother. 

 Ah! no, the thought I cannot bear, And if God please my life to spare, I hope I shall reward thy care. My Mother. 

 When thou art feeble, old, and grey. My healthy arm shall be thy stay, And I will soothe thy pains away, My Mother. 

After dinner we decided to visit the Castle of _Peveril of the Peak_, and as the afternoon was very fine we were able to do so, under theguidance of our friend. We were obliged to proceed slowly owing to mypartially disabled foot, and it took us a long time to reach thecastle, the road being very narrow and steep towards the top--in fact, it was so difficult of approach that a handful of men could havedefeated hundreds of the enemy. We managed to reach the ruins, and therewe reposed on the grass to view the wild scenery around us and thecurious split in the limestone rocks through which led the path known asthe "Winnats, " a shortened form of Wind Gates, owing to the force of thewind at this spot. The castle was not a large one, and there were higherelevations quite near; but deep chasms intervened, and somewhere beneathus was the largest cave in England. While we were resting our friendrelated the history of the castle, which had been built by WilliamPeverell in 1068, and rebuilt by Henry II in 1176-7 after he hadreceived here the submission of Malcolm, King of Scotland. Peverell wasa natural son of William the Conqueror, who had distinguished himself atthe Battle of Hastings, for which William had bestowed upon him manymanors in Derbyshire. What was known as the Peak of Derbyshire we foundwas not one single rock, as we supposed, but a huge tableland withrising heights here and there. Our friend, whose name was William, toldus a legend connected with the Peverell family. Pain Peverell, the Lordof Whittington, in Shropshire, had two daughters, the elder of whom wasvery beautiful, and had so many admirers that she could not decide whichof them to accept. So she consulted her father on the matter, whoadvised her to accept only the "Bravest of the Brave, " or the one whocould prove himself to excel all others in martial skill. Her fathertherefore proclaimed a tournament, which was to take place, in the wordsof an ancient writer, at "Peverell's Place in the Peke, " inviting allyoung men of noble birth to compete for the hand of the beautiful"Mellet, " whose dowry was to be Whittington Castle. The contest, asmight be supposed, was a severe one, and was won by a knight bearing amaiden shield of silver with a peacock for his crest, who vanquished, amongst others, a Knight of Burgundy and a Prince of Scotland. He provedto be Fitzwarren, and the Castle of Whittington passed to him togetherwith his young bride. 

[Illustration: CASTLETON ROCKS. ]

Our friend was surprised when we told him we knew that castle and theneighbourhood very well, and also a cottage there where Dick Whittingtonwas born, who afterwards became Sir Richard de Whittington, Lord Mayorof London. We again discussed the question of the desirability ofreturning home, as we were now much nearer than when at Furness Abbey, where we had nearly succumbed to home-sickness before; but my brothersaid he should continue the journey alone if I gave in, and as he kindlyconsented again to carry all the luggage, I agreed to complete thejourney with him. 

[Illustration: THE WINNATS, CASTLETON. ]

I walked down the hill supported by my brother on one side and ourfriend on the other, and returned to the latter's home for tea, afterwhich our host showed us some remarkable spar stones--dog-tooth spar wewere told was their name--found in the lead mines, whose white crystalsglistened in the light, and I could see by the covetous look in mybrother's eyes that he was thinking of the rockeries at home. His lookwas also seen by our worthy host, for he subsequently presented him withthe stones, which my brother afterwards declared were given to him as apunishment for coveting his neighbour's goods. It was now time to fulfilour engagement to accompany our friend to the Wesleyan Chapel and to gothrough what proved one of the most extraordinary services we everattended. Our host and hostess went with us, but they sat in a pew, while we three sat on a form. We remained for the "Prayer Meeting, "which the minister announced would be held after the usual service. Wehad read that the "Amens" of the early Christians could be heard at longdistances, but we never attended a meeting where the ejaculations wereso loud and fervent as they were here. Each man seemed to vie with hisneighbour as to which could shout the louder, and every one appeared tobe in great earnest. The exclamations were not always "Amens, " for weheard one man shout "Aye!" at exactly the same moment as another manshouted "Now!" and if the Leader had not been possessed of a stentorianvoice he would not at times have been able to make himself heard. Theprimitive custom of conducting prayer meetings was evidently kept up atCastleton, as might perhaps have been expected in a place which beforethe appearance of the railway was so remote and inaccessible, but itwas difficult to realise that "yes" and "no, " or "aye" and "now, " couldhave the same meaning when ejaculated at the same moment. Still, itmight have been so in this case. Who knows!

In travelling through the country we had noticed that in theneighbourhood of great mountains the religious element was morepronounced than elsewhere, and the people's voices seemed stronger. Atthe close of this second service, for which nearly the whole of thecongregation stayed, the conductor gave out one of Isaac Watts'swell-known hymns, and the congregation sang it with heart and voice thatalmost made the rafters in the roof of the chapel vibrate as if eventhey were joining in the praises of the Lord! These were the first twoverses:

 Jesus shall reign where'er the sun Doth his successive journeys run; His Kingdom stretch from shore to shore, Till moons shall wax and wane no more. 

 People and realms of every tongue Dwell on His love with sweetest song, And infant voices shall proclaim Their early blessing on His Name. 

We must say we joined as heartily as any of the others, for it was sungto one of the good old Methodist tunes common to all the Churches in thedays of Wesley. As we walked back through the village we felt all thebetter for having attended the full service, and later, when we watchedthe nearly full moon rise in the clear night air above the hills, ourthoughts turned instinctively towards the Great Almighty, the Father andMaker and Giver of All!

SEVENTH WEEK'S JOURNEY

_Monday, October 30th. _

[Illustration: PEVERIL CASTLE. ]

The Scots as a nation are proverbial for their travelling propensities;they are to be found not only in every part of the British Isles, but inalmost every known and unknown part of the wide world. It was a jocularsaying then in vogue that if ever the North Pole were discovered, aScotsman would be found there sitting on the top! Sir Walter Scott wasby no means behind his fellow countrymen in his love of travel, and likehis famous Moss-troopers, whose raids carried them far beyond theBorders, even into foreign countries, he had not confined himself "tohis own--his Native Land. " We were not surprised, therefore, wrhen weheard of him in the lonely neighbourhood of the Peak of Derbyshire, orthat, although he had never been known to have visited the castle or itsimmediate surroundings, he had written a novel entitled _Peveril of thePeak_. This fact was looked upon as a good joke by his personal friends, who gave him the title of the book as a nickname, and Sir Walter, whenwriting to some of his most intimate friends, had been known tosubscribe himself in humorous vein as "Peveril of the Peak. "

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO THE PEAK CAVERN. ]

There were several objects of interest well worth seeing at Castletonbesides the great cavern; there was the famous Blue John Mine, that tookits name from the peculiar blue stone found therein, a kind of fibrousfluor-spar usually blue to purple, though with occasional black andyellow veins, of which ornaments were made and sold to visitors, andfrom which the large blue stone was obtained that formed the magnificentvase in Chatsworth House, the residence of the Duke of Devonshire, andin other noble mansions which possess examples of the craft. In the minethere were two caverns, one of them 100 feet and the other 150 feethigh, "which glittered with sparkling stalactites. " Then there was theSpeedwell Mine, one of the curiosities of the Peak, discovered by minerssearching for ore, which they failed to find, although they laboured foryears at an enormous cost. In boring through the rock, however, theycame to a large natural cavern, now reached by descending about ahundred steps to a canal below, on which was a boat for conveyingpassengers to the other end of the canal, with only a small light ortorch at the bow to relieve the stygian darkness. Visitors were landedon a platform to listen to a tremendous sound of rushing water beingprecipitated somewhere in the fearful and impenetrable darkness, whoseobscurity and overpowering gloom could almost be felt. On the slope ofthe Eldon Hill there was also a fearful chasm called the Eldon Hole, where a falling stone was never heard to strike the bottom. This hadbeen visited in the time of Queen Elizabeth by the Earl of Leicester, who caused an unfortunate native to be lowered into it to the fulllength of a long rope; when the poor fellow was drawn up again he was"stark mad, " and died eight days afterwards. 

We had to leave all these attractions to a later visit, since we hadcome to Castleton to see the largest cavern of all, locally named the"Devil's Hole, " but by polite visitors the "Peak Cavern. " The approachto the cavern was very imposing and impressive, perpendicular rocksrising on both sides to a great height, while Peveril Castle stood onthe top of the precipice before us like a sentinel guarding entrance tothe cavern, which was in the form of an immense Gothic arch 120 feethigh, 42 feet wide, and said to be large enough to contain the ParishChurch and all its belongings. This entrance, however, was being used asa rope-walk, where, early as it was, the workers were already makinghempen ropes alongside the stream which flowed from the cavern, and thestrong smell of hemp which prevailed as we stood for a few minuteswatching the rope-makers was not at all unpleasant. 

[Illustration: ROPE-WALK AT ENTRANCE INSIDE CAVE, CASTLETON, IN 1871. ]

If it had been the entrance to Hades, to which it had been likened by alearned visitor, we might have been confronted by Cerberus instead ofour guide, whom our friends had warned overnight that his attendancewould be required early this morning by distinguished visitors, whowould expect the cave to be lit up with coloured lights in honour oftheir visit. The guide as he handed a light to each of us explainedapologetically that his stock of red lights had been exhausted duringthe season, but he had brought a sufficient number of blue lights tosuit the occasion. We followed him into the largest division of thecavern, which was 270 feet long and 150 feet high, the total lengthbeing about half a mile. It contained many other rooms or caves, intowhich he conducted us, the first being known as the Bell House, and herethe path we had been following suddenly came to an end at an arch aboutfive yards wide, where there was a stream called the River Styx, overwhich he ferried us in a boat, landing us in a cave called the Hall ofPluto, the Being who ruled over the Greek Hades, or Home of DepartedSpirits, guarded by a savage three-headed dog named Cerberus. The onlyway of reaching the "Home, " our guide told us, was by means of the ferryon the River Styx, of which Charon had charge, and to ensure the spirithaving a safe passage to the Elysian Fields it was necessary that histoll should be paid with a coin placed beforehand in the mouth or handof the departed. We did not, however, take the hint about the payment ofthe toll until after our return journey, when we found ourselves againat the mouth of the Great Cavern, a privilege perhaps not extended toPluto's ghostly visitors, nor did we see any of those mysterious ormythological beings; perhaps the nearest approach to them was the figureof our guide himself, as he held aloft the blue torch he had in his handwhen in the Hall of Pluto, for he presented the appearance of a manafflicted with delirium tremens or one of those "blue devils" often seenby victims of that dreadful disease. We also saw Roger Rain's House, where it always rained, summer and winter, all the year round, and theRobbers' Cave, with its five natural arches. But the strangest cave wevisited was that called the "Devil's Wine Cellar, " an awful abyss wherethe water rushed down a great hole and there disappeared. Her MostGracious Majesty, Queen Victoria, visited the cavern in 1832, and one ofthe caves was named Victoria in memory of that event; we had the honourof standing on the exact spot where she stood on that occasion. 

Our visit to the cavern was quite a success, enhanced as it was by theblue lights, so, having paid the guide for his services, we returned toour lodgings to "pack up" preparatory to resuming our walk. The whitestones so kindly presented to my brother--of which he was very proud, for they certainly were very fine specimens--seemed likely to prove awhite elephant to him. The difficulty now was how to carry them inaddition to all the other luggage. Hurrying into the town, he returnedin a few minutes with an enormous and strongly made red handkerchieflike those worn by the miners, and in this he tied the stones, whichwere quite heavy and a burden in themselves. With these and all theother luggage as well he presented a very strange appearance as hetoiled up the steep track through Cave Dale leading from the rear of thetown to the moors above. It was no small feat of endurance and strength, for he carried his burdens until we arrived at Tamworth railway stationin Staffordshire, to which our next box of clothes had been ordered, adistance of sixty-eight and a half miles by the way we walked. It waswith a feeling of real thankfulness for not having been killed withkindness in the bestowal of these gifts that he deposited the stones inthat box. When they reached home they were looked upon as too valuableto be placed on the rockeries and retained the sole possession of amantelshelf for many years. My ankle was still very weak, and it was asmuch as I could do to carry the solitary walking-stick to assist meforwards; but we were obliged to move on, as we were now quite fiftymiles behind our projected routine, and we knew there was some hard workbefore us. When we reached the moors, which were about a thousand feetabove sea-level, the going was comparatively easy on the soft rich grasswhich makes the cow's milk so rich, and we had some good views of thehills. That named Mam Tor was one of the "Seven wonders of the Peak, "and its neighbour, known as the Shivering Mountain, was quite acuriosity, as the shale, of which it was composed, was constantlybreaking away and sliding down the mountain slope with a sound like thatof falling water. Bagshawe Cavern was near at hand, but we did not visitit. It was so named because it had been found on land belonging to SirWilliam Bagshawe, whose lady christened its chambers and grottos withsome very queer names. Across the moors we could see the town ofTideswell, our next objective, standing like an oasis in the desert, forthere were no trees on the moors. We had planned that after leavingthere we would continue our way across the moors to Newhaven, and thenwalk through Dove Dale to Ashbourne in the reverse direction to thattaken the year before on our walk from London to Lancashire. Beforereaching Tideswell we came to a point known as Lane Head, where sixlane-ends met, and which we supposed must have been an importantmeeting-place when the moors, which surrounded it for miles, formed aportion of the ancient Peak Forest. We passed other objects of interest, including some ancient remains of lead mining in the form of curiouslong tunnels like sewers on the ground level which radiated to a pointwhere on the furnaces heaps of timber were piled up and the lead ore wassmelted by the heat which was intensified by these draught-producingtunnels. 

[Illustration: TIDESWELL CHURCH. ]

When Peak Forest was in its primeval glory, and the Kings of Englandwith their lords, earls, and nobles came to hunt there, many of theleading families had dwellings in the forest, and we passed a relic ofthese, a curious old mansion called Hazelbadge Hall, the ancient home ofthe Vernons, who still claim by right as Forester to name the coronerfor West Derbyshire when the position falls vacant. 

Tideswell was supposed to have taken its name from an ebbing and flowingwell whose water rose and fell like the tides in the sea, but which hadbeen choked up towards the end of the eighteenth century, and reopenedin the grounds of a mansion, so that the cup-shaped hollow could be seenfilling and emptying. 

A market had existed at Tideswell since the year 1250, and one wasbeing held as we entered the town, and the "George Inn, " where we calledfor refreshments, was fairly well filled with visitors of one kind oranother. 

We left our luggage to the care of the ostler, and went to visit thefine old church adjacent, where many ancient families lie buried; theprincipal object of interest was the magnificent chancel, which has beendescribed as "one Gallery of Light and Beauty, " the whole structurebeing known as the Cathedral of the Peak. There was a fine monumentalbrass, with features engraved on it which throw light on the Churchritual of the day, to the memory of Bishop Pursglove, who was a nativeof Tideswell and founder of the local Grammar School, who surrenderedhis Priory of Gisburn to Henry VIII in 1540, but refused, in 1559, totake the Oath of Supremacy. Sampson Meverill, Knight Constable ofEngland, also lies buried in the chancel, and by his epitaph on a marbletomb, brought curiously enough from Sussex, he asks the reader "devoutlyof your charity" to say "a Pater Noster with an Ave for all Xtiansoules, and especially for the soule of him whose bones resten underthis stone. " Meverill, with John Montagu, Earl of Shrewsbury, fought as"a Captain of diverse worshipful places in France, " serving under John, Duke of Bedford, in the "Hundred Years' War, " and after fighting ineleven battles within the space of two years he won knighthood at theduke's hands at St. Luce. In the churchyard was buried William Newton, the Minstrel of the Peak, and Samuel Slack, who in the last quarter ofthe eighteenth century was the most popular bass singer in England. Whenquite young Slack competed with others for a position in a college choirat Cambridge, and sang Purcell's famous air, "They that go down to thesea in ships. " When he had finished, the Precentor rose immediately andsaid to the other candidates, "Gentlemen, I now leave it to you whetherany one will sing after what you have just heard!" No one rose, and soSlack gained the position. 

Soon afterwards Georgiana, Duchess of Sutherland, interested herself inhim, and had him placed under Spofforth, the chief singing master of theday, under whose tuition he greatly improved, taking London by storm. Hewas for many years the principal bass at all the great musicalfestivals. So powerful was his voice, it is said, that on one occasionwhen he was pursued by a bull he uttered a bellow which so terrified theanimal that it ran away, so young ladies who were afraid of theseanimals always felt safe when accompanied by Mr. Slack. When singingbefore King George III at Windsor Castle, he was told that His Majestyhad been pleased with his singing. Slack remarked in his Derbyshiredialect, which he always remembered, "Oh, he was pleased, were he? Ithow't I could do't. " Slack it was said made no effort to improvehimself either in speech or in manners, and therefore it was thoughtthat he preferred low society. 

When he retired and returned to his native village he was delighted tojoin the local "Catch and Glee Club, " of which he soon became the rulingspirit. It held its meetings at the "George Inn" where we had called forrefreshments, and we were shown an old print of the club representingsix singers in Hogarthian attitudes with glasses, jugs, and pipes, withSlack and his friend Chadwick of Hayfield apparently singing heartilyfrom the same book Slack's favourite song, "Life's a Bumper fill'd byFate. " Tideswell had always been a musical town; as far back as the year1826 there was a "Tideswell Music Band, " which consisted of sixclarionets, two flutes, three bassoons, one serpent, two trumpets, twotrombones, two French horns, one bugle, and one double drum--twentyperformers in all. 

They had three practices weekly, and there were the usual fines forthose who came late, or missed a practice, for inattention to theleader, or for a dirty instrument, the heaviest fine of all being forintoxication. But long after this there was a Tideswell Brass Band whichbecame famous throughout the country, for the leader not only wrote thescore copies for his own band, but lithographed and sold them to otherbands all over the country. 

[Illustration: "LIFE'S A BUMPER. "]

We were particularly interested in all this, for my brother had for thepast eight years indulged in the luxury of a brass band himself. Theband consisted of about twenty members when in full strength, and asinstruments were dear in those days it was a most expensive luxury, andwhat it had cost him in instruments, music, and uniforms no one everknew. He had often purchased "scores" from Metcalf, the leader of theTideswell Band, a fact that was rather a source of anxiety to me, as Iknew if he called to see Metcalf our expedition for that day would be atan end, as they might have conversed with each other for hours. I couldnot prevent him from relating at the "George" one of his earlyreminiscences, which fairly "brought down the house, " as there were somemusicians in the company. 

His band had been formed in 1863, and consisted of about a dozenperformers. Christmas time was coming on, when the bandsmen resolved toshow off a little and at the same time collect some money from theirfriends to spend in the New Year. They therefore decided that the bandshould go out "busking" each evening during Christmas week. They hadonly learned to play five tunes--two of them belonging to well-knownhymns, a third "God Save the Queen, " while the remaining two werequicksteps, one of which was not quite perfectly learned. 

They were well received in the village, and almost every house had beenvisited with the exception of the Hall, which was some distance away, and had been left till the last probably owing to the fact that thesquire was not particularly noted for his liberality. If, however, hehad been at home that week, and had any sense of music, he would havelearned all their tunes off by heart, as the band must have been heardclearly enough when playing at the farms surrounding the mansion. 

To avoid a possibility of giving offence, however, it was decided to payhim a visit; so the band assembled one evening in front of the mansion, and the conductor led off with a Psalm tune, during which the Hall doorwas opened by a servant. At this unexpected compliment expectations rosehigh amongst the members of the band, and a second Psalm tune wasplayed, the full number of verses in the hymn being repeated. Thenfollowed a pause to give the squire a chance of distinguishing himself, but as he failed to rise to the occasion it was decided to play aquickstep. This was followed by a rather awkward pause, as there weresome high notes in the remaining quickstep which the soprano player saidhe was sure he could not reach as he was getting "ramp'd" already. Atthis moment, however, the situation was relieved by the appearance of afemale servant at the door. 

The member of the band who had been deputed to collect all donations atonce went to the door, and all eyes were turned upon him when he cameback towards the lawn, every member on tip-toe of expectation. But hehad only returned to say that the squire's lady wished the band to playa polka. This spread consternation throughout the band, and one of theyounger members went to the conductor saying, "A polka! A polka! I say, Jim, what's that?" "Oh, " replied the conductor, "number three playedquick!" Now number three was a quickstep named after Havelock the famousEnglish General in India, so "Havelock's March played quick" had to doduty for a polka; but the only man who could play it quickly was theconductor himself, who after the words, "Ready, chaps!" and the usualsignal "One-two-three, " dashed off at an unusual speed, the performersfollowing as rapidly as they could, the Bombardon and the Double B, thebiggest instruments, finishing last with a most awful groan, after whichthe conductor, who couldn't stop laughing when once he started, wasfound rolling on the lawn in a kind of convulsion. It took them sometime to recover their equilibrium, during which the Hall door remainedopen, and a portion of the band had already begun to move away indespair, when they were called back by the old butler appearing at theHall door with a silver tray in his hand. The collector's services wereagain requisitioned, and he returned with the magnificent sum of oneshilling! As most of the farmers had given five shillings and theremainder half a crown, the squire's reputation for generosity had beenfully maintained. One verse of "God save the Queen, " instead of theusual three, was played by the way of acknowledgment, and so ended theband's busking season in the year 1863. 

We quite enjoyed our visit to Tideswell, and were rather loath to leavethe friendly company at the "George Inn, " who were greatly interested inour walk, several musical members watching our departure as the ostlerloaded my brother with the luggage. 

Tideswell possessed a poet named Beebe Eyre, who in 1854 was awarded £50out of the Queen's Royal Bounty, which probably inspired him to write:

 Tideswell! thou art my natal spot, And hence I love thee well; May prosperous days now be the lot Of all that in thee dwell!

The sentiments expressed by the poet coincided with our own. As wedeparted from the town we observed a curiosity in the shape of a veryold and extremely dilapidated building, which we were informed couldneither be repaired, pulled down, nor sold because it belonged to somecharity. 

On the moors outside the town there were some more curious remains ofthe Romans and others skilled in mining, which we thought would greatlyinterest antiquarians, as they displayed more methods of mining than atother places we had visited. A stream had evidently disappointed them byfiltering through its bed of limestone, but this they had prevented byforming a course of pebbles and cement, which ran right throughTideswell, and served the double purpose of a water supply and a sewer. 

We crossed the old "Rakes, " or lines, where the Romans simply dug outthe ore and threw up the rubbish, which still remained in long lines. Clever though they were, they only knew lead when it occurred in theform known as galena, which looked like lead itself, and so they threwout a more valuable ore, cerusite, or lead carbonate, and the heaps ofthis valuable material were mined over a second time in comparativelyrecent times. The miner of the Middle Ages made many soughs to drainaway the water from the mines, and we saw more of the tunnels that hadbeen made to draw air to the furnaces when wood was used for smeltingthe lead. 

The forest, like many others, had disappeared, and Anna Seward hadexactly described the country we were passing through when she wrote:

 The long lone tracks of Tideswell's native moor, Stretched on vast hills that far and near prevail. Bleak, stony, bare, monotonous, and pale. 

The poet Newton had provided the town with a water supply by havingpipes laid at his own expense from the Well Head at the source of thestream which flowed out of an old lead-mine. Lead in drinking-water hasan evil name for causing poisoning, but the Tideswell folk flourish onit, since no one seems to think of dying before seventy, and a goodlynumber live to over ninety. 

They have some small industries, cotton manufacture having spread fromLancashire into these remote districts. It is an old-fashioned place, with houses mostly stuccoed with broken crystals and limestone from the"Rakes" and containing curiously carved cupboard doors and posts tornfrom churches ornamented in Jacobean style by the sacrilegiousCromwellians, many of them having been erected just after the GreatRebellion. 

[Illustration: THE DUKE OF BRIDGEWATER. ]

[Illustration: BRIDGE CARRYING THE CANAL OVERHEAD. ]

We now journeyed along the mountain track until it descended sharplyinto Miller's Dale; but before reaching this place we were interested inthe village of Formhill, where Brindley, the famous canal engineer, wasborn in 1716. Brindley was employed by the great Duke of Bridgewater, the pioneer of canal-making in England, to construct a canal from hiscollieries at Worsley, in Lancashire, to Manchester, in order to cheapenthe cost of coal at that important manufacturing centre. It was anextraordinary achievement, considering that Brindley was quiteuneducated and knew no mathematics, and up to the last remainedilliterate. Most of his problems were solved without writings ordrawings, and when anything difficult had to be considered, he would goto bed and think it out there. At the Worsley end it involved tunnellingto the seams of coal where the colliers were at work so that they couldload the coal directly into the boats. He constructed from ten tothirteen miles of underground canals on two different levels, with aningeniously constructed connection between the two. After this he madethe great Bridgewater Canal, forty miles in length, from Manchester toRuncorn, which obtained a fall of one foot per mile by following acircuitous route without a lock or a tunnel in the whole of its courseuntil it reached its terminus at the River Mersey. In places where abrook or a small valley had to be crossed the canal was carried onartificially raised banks, and to provide against a burst in any ofthese, which would have caused the water to run out of the canal, it wasnarrowed at each end of the embankment so that only one boat could passthrough at a time, this narrow passage being known as a "stop place. "At the entrance to this a door was so placed at the bottom of the canalthat if any undue current should appear, such as would occur if theembankment gave way, one end of it would rise into a socket prepared forit in the stop-place, and so prevent any water leaving the canal exceptthat in the broken section, a remedy simple but ingenious. On arrivingat Runcorn the boats were lowered by a series of locks into the RiverMersey, a double service of locks being provided so that boats couldpass up and down at the same time and so avoid delay. 

[Illustration: JAMES BRINDLEY. ]

When the water was first turned into the canal, Brindley mysteriouslydisappeared, and was nowhere to be found; but as the canal when full didnot burst its embankments, as he had feared, he soon reappeared and wasafterwards employed to construct even more difficult canals. He died in1772, and was buried in Harriseahead Churchyard on the Cheshire borderof Staffordshire. It is computed that he engineered as many miles ofcanals as there are days in the year. 

[Illustration: THE BOTTOM LOCKS AT RUNCORN. ]

It must have been a regular custom for the parsons in Derbyshire to keepdiaries in the eighteenth century, for the Vicar of Wormhill kept one, like the Vicar of Castleton, both chancing to be members of the Bagshawefamily, a common name in that neighbourhood. He was a hard-working andconscientious man, and made the following entry in it on February 3rd, 1798

 _Sunday_. --Preached at Wormhill on the vanity of human pursuits and human pleasures, to a polite audience, an affecting sermon. Rode in the evening to Castleton, where I read three discourses by Secker. In the forest I was sorry to observe a party of boys playing at Football. I spoke to them but was laughed at, and on my departure one of the boys gave the football a wonderful kick--a proof this of the degeneracy of human nature!

On reaching Miller's Dale, a romantic deep hollow in the limestone, atthe bottom of which winds the fast-flowing Wye, my brother declaredthat he felt more at home, as it happened to be the only place he hadseen since leaving John o' Groat's that he had previously visited, andit reminded him of a rather amusing incident. 

[Illustration: THE BRIDGEWATER CANAL--WHERE IT ENTERS THE MINES ATWORSLEY. ]

Our uncle, a civil engineer in London, had been over on a visit, and waswearing a white top-hat, then becoming fashionable, and as my brotherthought that a similar hat would just suit the dark blue velveteen coathe wore on Sundays, he soon appeared in the prevailing fashion. He waswalking from Ambergate to Buxton, and had reached Miller's Dale aboutnoon, just as the millers were leaving the flour mills for dinner. Onewould have thought that the sight of a white hat would have delightedthe millers, but as these hats were rather dear, and beyond thefinancial reach of the man in the street, they had become an object ofderision to those who could not afford to wear them, the music-hallanswer to the question "Who stole the donkey?" being at that time "Theman with the white hat!"

He had met one group of the millers coming up the hill and another lotwas following, when a man in the first group suddenly turned round andshouted to a man in the second group, "I say, Jack, who stole thedonkey?" But Jack had not yet passed my brother, and, as he had still toface him, he dared not give the customary answer, so, instead ofreplying "The man with the white hat, " he called out in the Derbyshiredialect, with a broad grin on his face, "Th' feyther. " A roar oflaughter both behind and in front, in which my brother heartily joined, followed this repartee. 

Probably some of the opprobrium attached to the white hat was because ofits having been an emblem of the Radicals. We had seen that worn by SirWalter Scott in his declining days, but we could not think of includinghim in that extreme political party, though its origin dated back tothe time when he was still alive. Probably the emblem was only local, for it originated at Preston in Lancashire, a place we knew well, commonly called Proud Preston, no doubt by reason of its connection withthe noble family of Stanley, who had a mansion in the town. Preston wasoften represented in Parliament by a Stanley, and was looked upon as aPocket Borough. In the turbulent times preceding the Abolition of theCorn Laws a powerful opponent, in the person of Mr. Henry Hunt, ademagogue politician, who had suffered imprisonment for advocatingChartism, appeared at the Preston election of 1830 to oppose theHonourable E. G. Stanley, afterwards Earl of Derby. He always appearedwearing a white hat, and was an eloquent speaker, and for these reasonsearned the sobriquet of "Orator" Hunt and "Man with the White Hat. " Theelection contest was one of the most exciting events that ever occurredin Preston, and as usual the children took their share in theproceedings, those on Mr. Stanley's side parading the streets singing ina popular air:

 Hey! Ho! Stanley for Ever! Stanley for Ever! Hey! Ho! Stanley for Ever Ho! Stanley, Stanley, Stanley, Ho! Stanley is my honey Ho! When he weds he will be rich, He will have a coach and six. 

Then followed the chorus to the accompaniment of drums and triangles:

 Hey! Ho! Stanley for Ever, Ho!

In spite of this, however, and similar ditties, "Orator Hunt, " by atotal vote of 3, 730, became M. P. For Preston, and it was said that itwas through this incident that the Radicals adopted the White Hat astheir emblem. 

Lord Derby was so annoyed at the result of the election that he closedhis house, which stood across the end of a quiet street, and placed aline of posts across it, between which strong chains were hung, and onwhich my brother could remember swinging when a boy. 

One of our uncles was known as the "Preston Poet" at that time, and hewrote a poem entitled "The Poor, God Bless 'Em!" the first versereading:

 Let sycophants bend their base knees in the court And servilely cringe round the gate, And barter their honour to earn the support Of the wealthy, the titled, the great; Their guilt piled possessions I loathe, while I scorn The knaves, the vile knaves who possess 'em; I love not to pamper oppression, but mourn For the poor, the robb'd poor--God bless 'em!

A striking contrast to the volubility of Mr. Hunt was Mr. SamuelHorrocks, also M. P. For Preston, whose connection with the "Big Factory"in Preston probably gained him the seat. He was said to have been the"quiet Member, " never known to make a speech in the House of Commons, unless it was to ask some official to close a window. The mainthoroughfare in Preston was Fishergate, a wide street, where on oneSaturday night two men appeared walking up the middle of the street, carrying large papers suspended over their arms and shouting at the topof their voices. 

"The Speech of Samuel Horrocks, Esquire, M. P. , in the British House ofCommons! one penny, " which they continued to repeat. 

"Eh! owd Sammy's bin makkin' a speech, " and a rush was made for thepapers. The streets were poorly lighted in those days, and the men did aroaring business in the dark. One man, however, was so anxious to readthe speech that he could not wait until he got home, but went to a shopwindow, where there was a light, but the paper was blank. Thinking theyhad given him the wrong paper, he ran after the men and shouted, pointing to the paper, "Hey, there's nowt on it. " "Well, " growled one ofthe men, "_he said nowt_. "

[Illustration: CHATSWORTH HOUSE. ]

We now climbed up the opposite side of the dale, and continued on themoorland road for a few miles, calling at the "Flagg Moor Inn" for tea. By the time we had finished it was quite dark, and the landlady of theinn did her best to persuade us to stay there for the night, telling usthat the road from there to Ashbourne was so lonely that it was possibleon a dark night to walk the whole distance of fourteen miles withoutseeing a single person, and as it had been the Great Fair at Newhaventhat day, there might be some dangerous characters on the roads. Whenshe saw we were determined to proceed farther, she warned us that theroad did not pass through any village, and that there was only asolitary house here and there, some of them being a little way from theroad. The road was quite straight, and had a stone wall on each side allthe way, so all we had got to do was to keep straight on, and to mind wedid not turn to the right or the left along any of the by-roads lest weshould get lost on the moors. It was not without some feeling of regretthat we bade the landlady "Good night" and started out from thecomfortable inn on a pitch-dark night. Fortunately the road was dry, and, as there were no trees, the limestone of which it was composedshowed a white track easily discernible in the inky darkness whichsurrounded it. As we got farther on our way we could see right in fronta great illumination in the mist or clouds above marking the glare fromthe country fair at Newhaven, which was only four miles from the inn wehad just left. We met quite a number of people returning from the fair, both on foot and in vehicles, and as they all appeared to be in goodspirits we received a friendly greeting from all who spoke to us. Presently arriving at Newhaven itself, which consisted solely of onelarge inn, we found the surrounding open space packed with a noisy andjovial crowd of people, the number of whom absolutely astonished us, asthe country around appeared so desolate, and we wondered where they allcould have come from. Newhaven, which had been a very important place inthe coaching-days, was a big three-storeyed house with twenty-fivebedrooms and stabling for a hundred horses. It stood at a junction ofroads about 1, 100 feet above sea-level in a most lonely place, and inthe zenith of its popularity there was seldom a bedroom empty, the housebeing quite as gay as if it had been in London itself. It had beenspecially built for the coach traffic by the then Duke of Devonshire, whose mansion, Chatsworth House, was only a few miles distant. KingGeorge IV stayed at Newhaven on one occasion, and was so pleased withhis entertainment that he granted to the inn a free and perpetuallicence of his own sovereign pleasure, so that no application forrenewal of licence at Brewster Sessions was ever afterwards required; afact which accounted in some measure for the noisy company congregatedtherein, in defiance of the superintendent of police, who, with five orsix of his officers, was standing in front of the fair. Booths had beenerected by other publicans, but the police had ordered these to beremoved earlier in the day to prevent further disturbances. 

We noticed they had quite a number of persons in custody, and when I sawa policeman looking very critically at the miscellaneous assortment ofluggage my brother was carrying, I thought he was about to be added tothe number; but he was soon satisfied as to the honesty of hisintentions. The "New Haven" must have meant a new haven for passengers, horses, and coaches when the old haven had been removed, as the wordseemed only to apply to the hotel, which, as it was ten miles both fromBuxton and Ashbourne, and also on the Roman road known as Via Gellia, must have been built exactly to accommodate the ten-mile run of thecoaches either way. It quite enlivened us to see the old-fashionedshows, the shooting-boxes, the exhibitions of monstrosities, with stallsdisplaying all sorts of nuts, sweets, gingerbreads, and all theparaphernalia that in those days comprised a country fair, and we shouldhave liked to stay at the inn and visit some of the shows which wereranged in front of it and along the green patches of grass which linedthe Ashbourne road; but in the first place the inn was not available, and in the second our twenty-five-mile average daily walk was too muchin arrears to admit of any further delay. 

[Illustration: THE DOVE HOLES, DOVEDALE. ]

All the shows and stalls were doing a roaring trade, and the naphthalamps with which they were lighted flared weirdly into the inky darknessabove. Had we been so minded, we might have turned aside and foundquarters at an inn bearing the odd sign of "The Silent Woman" (a womanwith her head cut off and tucked under her arm, similar to one nearerhome called the "Headless Woman"--in the latter case, however, the tallfigure of the woman was shown standing upright, without any visiblesupport, while her head was calmly resting on the ground--the ideaseeming to be that a woman could not be silent so long as her head wason her body), but we felt that Ashbourne must be reached that night, which now seemed blacker than ever after leaving the glaring lights inthe Fair. Nor did we feel inclined to turn along any by-road on a darknight like that, seeing that we had been partly lost on our way fromLondon the previous year, nearly at the same place, and on quite as darka night. On that memorable occasion we had entered Dovedale near Thorpe, and visited the Lovers' Leap, Reynard's Cave, Tissington Spires, andDove Holes, but darkness came on, compelling us to leave the dale toresume our walk the following morning. Eventually we saw a light in thedistance, where we found a cottage, the inmates of which kindlyconducted us with a lantern across a lonely place to the village ofParwich, which in the Derbyshire dialect they pronounced "Porritch, "reminding us of our supper. 

[Illustration: TISSINGTON SPIRES. ]

[Illustration: REYNARD'S CAVE, DOVEDALE. ]

It was nearly closing-time when we were ushered into the taproom of thevillage inn among some strange companions, and when the hour of closingarrived we saw the head of the village policeman appear at the shutterthrough which outside customers were served with beer. The landlordasked him, "Will you have a pint?" Looking significantly at ourselves, he replied, "No, thank you, " but we noticed the "pint" was placed in theaperture, and soon afterwards disappeared!

At Newhaven we ascertained that we were now quite near Hartington andDovedale. Hartington was a famous resort of fishermen and well known toIsaak Walton, the "Father of Fishermen, " and author of that famous book_The Compleat Angler or the Contemplative Man's Recreation_, so full ofsuch cheerful piety and contentment, such sweet freshness andsimplicity, as to give the book a perennial charm. He was a great friendof Charles Cotton of Beresford Hall, who built a fine fishing-house nearthe famous Pike Pool on the River Dove, over the arched doorway of whichhe placed a cipher stone formed with the combined initials of Walton andhimself, and inscribed with the words "Piscatoribus Sacrum. " It was saidthat when they came to fish in the fish pool early in the morning, Cotton smoked tobacco for his breakfast!

 What spot more honoured than this beautiful place? Twice honoured truly. Here Charles Cotton sang, Hilarious, his whole-hearted songs, that rang With a true note, through town and country ways, While the Dove trout--in chorus--splashed their praise. Here Walton sate with Cotton in the shade And watched him dubb his flies, and doubtless made The time seem short, with gossip of old days. Their cyphers are enlaced above the door, And in each angler's heart, firm-set and sure. 

 While rivers run, shall those two names endure, Walton and Cotton linked for evermore--- And Piscatoribus Sacrum where more fit A motto for their wisdom worth and wit?

 Say, where shall the toiler find rest from his labours, And seek sweet repose from the overstrung will? Away from the worry and jar of his neighbours Where moor-tinted streamlets flow down from the hill. 

 Then hurrah! jolly anglers, for burn and for river. The songs of the birds and the lowing of kine: The voice of the river shall soothe us for ever, Then here's to the toast, boys--"The rod and the line!"

[Illustration: TISSINGTON HALL, GATEWAY. ]

We walked in the darkness for about six miles thinking all the time ofDovedale, which we knew was running parallel with our road at about twomiles' distance. When we reached Tissington, about three miles fromAshbourne, the night had become lighter, and there ought to have been aconsiderable section of the moon visible if the sky had been clear. Herewe came to quite a considerable number of trees, but the village musthave been somewhere in the rear of them. Well-dressing was a customcommon in Derbyshire, and also on a much smaller scale in some of theneighbouring counties; but this village of Tissington was speciallynoted in this respect, for it contained five wells, all of which had tobe dressed. As the dressers of the different wells vied with each otherwhich should have the best show, the children and young people had abusy time in collecting the flowers, plants, buds, and ferns necessaryto form the display. The festival was held on Holy Thursday, and waspreceded with a service in the church followed by one at each of thewells, and if the weather was fine, hundreds of visitors assembled tocriticise the work at the different wells. The origin of well-dressingis unknown, but it is certainly of remote antiquity, probably datingback to pagan times. That at Tissington was supposed to have developedat the time of the Black Plague in the fourteenth century, when, although it decimated many villages in the neighbourhood, it missedTissington altogether--because, it was supposed, of the purity of thewaters. But the origin of well-dressing must have been of much greaterantiquity: the custom no doubt had its beginnings as an expression ofpraise to God from whom all blessings flow. The old proverb, "We neverknow the value of water till the well runs dry, " is singularlyappropriate in the hilly districts of Derbyshire, where not only thewells, but the rivers also have been known to dry up, and when thespring comes and brings the flowers, what could be more natural than tothank the Almighty who sends the rain and the water, without which theycould not grow. 

[Illustration: TISSINGTON CHURCH. ]

We were sorry to have missed our walk down Dove Dale, but it was all forthe best, as we should again have been caught in the dark there, andperhaps I should have injured my foot again, as the path along the Dalewas difficult to negotiate even in the daylight. In any case we werepleased when we reached Ashbourne, where we had no difficulty in findingour hotel, for the signboard of the "Green Man" reached over our headsfrom one side of the main street to the other. 

(_Distance walked twenty-six and a half miles_. )

_Tuesday, October 31st. _

The inn we stayed at was a famous one in the days of the stagecoaches, and bore the double name "The Green Man and the Black's Head RoyalHotel" on a sign which was probably unique, for it reached across thefull width of the street. A former landlord having bought anothercoaching-house in the town known as the "Black's Head, " transferred thebusiness to the "Green Man, " when he incorporated the two signs. We werenow on the verge of Dr. Johnson's country, the learned compiler of thegreat dictionary, who visited the "Green Man" in company with hiscompanion, James Boswell, whose _Life of Dr. Johnson_ is said to be thefinest biography ever written in the English language. They had a friendat Ashbourne, a Dr. Taylor, whom they often visited, and on one occasionwhen they were all sitting in his garden their conversation turned onthe subject of the future state of man. Johnson gave expression to hisviews in the following words, "Sir, I do not imagine that all thingswill be made clear to us immediately after death, but that the ways ofProvidence will be explained to us very gradually. "

[Illustration: "THE GREEN MAN AND BLACK'S HEAD. "]

Boswell stayed at the "Green Man" just before journeying with Dr. Johnson to Scotland, and was greatly pleased by the manners of thelandlady, for he described her as a "mighty civil gentlewoman" whocurtseyed very low as she gave him an engraving of the sign of thehouse, under which she had written a polite note asking for arecommendation of the inn to his "extensive acquaintance, and her mostgrateful thanks for his patronage and her sincerest prayers for hishappiness in time and in blessed eternity. " The present landlady of thehotel appeared to be a worthy successor to the lady who presided therein the time of Boswell, for we found her equally civil and obliging, and, needless to say, we did justice to a very good breakfast served upin her best style. 

[Illustration: IN ASHBOURNE CHURCH IN YE OLDEN TIME. ]

The Old Hall of Ashbourne, situated at the higher end of the town, was afine old mansion, with a long history, dating from the Cockayne family, who were in possession of lands here as early as the year 1372, and whowere followed by the Boothby family. 

The young Pretender, "Bonnie Prince Charlie, " who had many friends inEngland, stayed a night at the Hall in 1745, and the oak door of theroom in which he slept was still preserved. He and his Highlanders nevergot farther than Derby, when he had to beat a hurried retreat, pursuedby the Duke of Cumberland. Prince Charlie, to avoid the opposing army atStafford and Lichfield, turned aside along the Churnet valley, throughLeek, and so to Ashbourne. At Derby he called a Council of War, andlearned how the Royal forces were closing in upon him, so thatreluctantly a retreat was ordered. Then began a period of plundering andrapine. The Highlanders spread over the country, but on their returnnever crossed into Staffordshire, for, as the story goes, the old womenof the Woodlands of Needwood Forest undertook to find how things weregoing, and crept down to the bridges of Sudbury and Scropton. As itbegan to rain, they used their red flannel petticoats as cloaks, whichthe Highlanders, spying, took to be the red uniforms of soldiers, and apanic seized them--so much so, that some who had seized somepig-puddings and were fastening them hot on a pole, according to a localditty, ran out through a back door, and, jumping from a heap of manure, fell up to the neck in a cesspool. The pillage near Ashbourne was verygreat, but they could not stay, for the Duke was already at Uttoxoterwith a small force. 

[Illustration: ASHBOURNE CHURCH. ]

George Canning, the great orator who was born in 1770 and died when hewas Prime Minister of England in 1827, often visited Ashbourne Old Hall. In his time the town of Ashbourne was a flourishing one; it was said tobe the only town in England that benefited by the French prisoners ofwar, as there were 200 officers, including three generals, quarteredthere in 1804, and it was estimated that they spent nearly £30, 000 inAshbourne. An omnibus was then running between Ashbourne and Derby, which out of courtesy to the French was named a "diligence, " the Frenchequivalent for stage-coach; but the Derby diligence was soon abbreviatedto the Derby "Dilly. " The roads at that time were very rough, macadamised surfaces being unknown, and a very steep hill leading intothe Ashbourne and Derby Road was called _bête noire_ by the French, about which Canning, who was an occasional passenger, wrote thefollowing lines:

 So down the hill, romantic Ashbourne, glides The Derby Dilly, carrying three insides; One in each corner sits and lolls at ease, With folded arms, propt back and outstretched knees; While the pressed bodkin, pinched and squeezed to death, Sweats in the midmost place and scolds and pants for breath. 

We were now at the end of the last spur of the Pennine Range of hillsand in the last town in Derbyshire. As if to own allegiance to its owncounty, the spire of the parish church, which was 212 feet high, claimedto be the "Pride of the Peak. " In the thirteenth-century church beneathit, dedicated to St. Oswald, there were many fine tombs of the formerowners of the Old Hall at Ashbourne, those belonging to the Cockaynefamily being splendid examples of the sculptor's art. We noted that onemember of the family was killed at the Battle of Shrewsbury in 1404, while another had been knighted by King Henry VII at the siege ofTournay. The finest object in the church was the marble figure of alittle child as she appeared--

 Before Decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers, which for simplicity, elegance, and childlike innocence of face was saidto be the most interesting and pathetic monument in England. It isreputed to be the masterpiece of the English sculptor Thomas Banks, whose work was almost entirely executed abroad, where he was betterknown than in England. The inscriptions on it were in four differentlanguages, English, Italian, French, and Latin, that in English being:

 I was not in safety, neither had I rest, and the trouble came. 

The dedication was inscribed:

 TO PENELOPE

 ONLY CHILD OF SIR BROOKE BOOTHBY AND DAME SUSANNAH BOOTHBY. 

 Born April 11th 1785, died March 13th 1791. She was in form and intellect most exquisite The unfortunate parents ventured their all in this Frail bark, And the wreck was Total. 

The melancholy reference to their having ventured their all bore uponthe separation between the father and mother, which immediately followedthe child's death. 

The description of the monument reads as follows:

 The figure of the child reclines on a pillowed mattress, her hands resting one upon the other near her head. She is simply attired in a frock, below which her naked feet are carelessly placed one over the other, the whole position suggesting that in the restlessness of pain she had just turned to find a cooler and easier place of rest. 

[Illustration: PENELOPE. ]

Her portrait was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, her name appearing inhis "Book of Sitters" in July 1788, when she was just over three yearsof age, and is one of the most famous child-pictures by that greatmaster. The picture shows Little Penelope in a white dress and a darkbelt, sitting on a stone sill, with trees in the background. Hermittened hands are folded in her lap, and her eyes are demurely castdown. She is wearing a high mob-cap, said to have belonged to SirJoshua's grandmother. 

This picture was sold in 1859 to the Earl of Dudley for 1, 100 guineas, and afterwards exhibited at Burlington House, when it was bought by Mr. David Thwaites for £20, 060. 

The model for the famous picture "Cherry Ripe, " painted by Sir JohnEverett-Millais, was Miss Talmage, who had appeared as Little Penelopeat a fancy-dress ball, and it was said in later years that if there hadbeen no Penelope Boothby by Sir Joshua Reynolds, there would have beenno "Cherry Ripe" by Sir John Everett-Millais. 

Sir Francis Chantrey, the great sculptor, also visited Ashbourne Church. His patron, Mrs. Robinson, when she gave him the order to execute thatexquisite work, the Sleeping Children, in Lichfield Cathedral, expresslystipulated that he must see the figure of Penelope Boothby in AshbourneChurch before he began her work. Accordingly Chantrey came down to thechurch and completed his sketch afterwards at the "Green Man Inn, "working at it until one o'clock the next morning, when he departed bythe London coach. 

Ashbourne is one of the few places which kept up the football match onShrove Tuesday, a relic probably of the past, when the ball was acreature or a human being, and life or death the object of the game. Butnow the game was to play a stuffed case or the biggest part of it up anddown the stream, the Ecclesbourne, until the mill at either limit of thetown was reached. 

The River Dove, of which it has been written the "Dove's flood is wortha king's good, " formed the boundary between Derbyshire andStaffordshire, which we crossed by a bridge about two miles afterleaving Ashbourne. This bridge, we were told, was known as the HangingBridge, because at one time people were hanged on the tree which stoodon the border between the two counties, and we might have fared badly ifour journey had been made in the good old times, when "tramps" wereseverely treated. Across the river lay the village of Mayneld, where thelandlord of the inn was killed in a quarrel with Prince Charlie's men intheir retreat from Derby for resisting their demands, and higher up thecountry a farmer had been killed because he declined to give up hishorse. They were not nearly so orderly as they retreated towards thenorth, for they cleared both provisions and valuables from the countryon both sides of the roads. A cottage at Mayneld was pointed out to usas having once upon a time been inhabited by Thomas, or Tom Moore, Ireland's great poet, whose popularity was as great in England as in hisnative country, and who died in 1852 at the age of seventy-three years. The cottage was at that time surrounded by woods and fields, and nodoubt the sound of Ashbourne Church bells, as it floated in the air, suggested to him one of his sweetest and saddest songs:

 Those evening bells! those evening bells, How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime. 

 Those joyous hours are passed away, And many a heart that then was gay Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. 

 And so 'twill be when I am gone: The tuneful peal will still ring on: While other bards shall walk these dells And sing your praise, sweet evening bells. 

We passed Calwick Abbey, once a religious house, but centuries agoconverted into a private mansion, which in the time of Handel(1685-1759) was inhabited by the Granville family. Handel, although aGerman, spent most of his time in England, and was often the guest ofthe nobility. It was said that it was at Calwick Abbey that his greatestoratorios were conceived, and that the organ on which he played wasstill preserved. We ourselves had seen an organ in an Old Hall inCheshire on which he had played when a visitor there, and where was alsoshown a score copy in his own handwriting. All that was mortal of Handelwas buried in Westminster Abbey, but his magnificent oratorios willendure to the end of time. 

On arrival at Ellastone we left our luggage at the substantially builtinn there while we went to visit Norbury Church, which was well worthseeing, and as my foot had now greatly improved we were able to get overthe ground rather more quickly. Norbury was granted to the Fitzherbertsin 1125, and, strange as it may appear, the original deed was still inthe possession of that ancient family, whose chief residence was now atSwynnerton at the opposite side of Staffordshire, where they succeededthe Swynnerton family as owners of the estate. The black image of thatgrim crusader Swynnerton of Swynnerton still remained in the old chapelthere, and as usual in ancient times, where the churches were built ofsandstone, they sharpened their arrows on the walls or porches of thechurch, the holes made in sharpening them being plainly visible. Churchrestorations have caused these holes to be filled with cement in manyplaces, like the bullet holes of the more recent period of the CivilWar, but holes in the exact shape of arrow heads were still to be seenin the walls at Swynnerton, the different heights showing some of thearchers to have been very tall men. In spite of severe persecution atthe time of the Reformation this branch of the family of theFitzherberts adhered to the Roman Catholic Faith, Sir Thomas Fitzherbertbeing one of the most prominent victims of the Elizabethan persecutions, having passed no less than thirty years of his life in various prisonsin England. 

Norbury church was not a large one, but the chancel was nearly as largeas the nave. It dated back to the middle of the fourteenth century, whenHenry of Kniveton was rector, who made the church famous by placing anumber of fine stained-glass windows in the chancel. The glass in thesewindows was very chaste and beautiful, owing to the finely tinted softbrowns and greens, now probably mellowed by age, and said to rankamongst the finest of their kind in England. The grand monuments to theFitzherberts were magnificently fine examples of the art and clothing ofthe past ages, the two most gorgeous tombs being those of the tenth andeleventh lords, in all the grandeur of plate armour, collars, decorations, spurs, and swords; one had an angel and the other a monk tohold his foot as he crossed into the unknown. The figures of theirfamilies as sculptured below them were also very fine. Considering thatone of the lords had seventeen children and the other fifteen it wasscarcely to be wondered at that descendants of the great family stillexisted. 

Sir Nicholas, who died in 1473, occupied the first tomb, his son thesecond, and his children were represented dressed in the differentcostumes of their chosen professions, the first being in armour with across, and the next as a lawyer with a scroll, while another wasrepresented as a monk with a book, but as the next had his head knockedoff it was impossible to decipher him; others seemed to have gone intobusinesses of one kind or another. 

The oldest monument in the church was a stone cross-legged effigy of awarrior in armour, dating from about the year 1300; while the plainestwas the image of a female corpse in a shroud, on a gravestone, who wasnamed . . . Elysebeth . . . 

 The which decessed the yeare that is goone, A thousand four hundred neynty and oone. 

The church was dedicated to St. Barloke, probably one of the ancientBritish Divines. 

On returning to Ellastone we learned that the inn was associated with"George Eliot, " whose works we had heard of but had not read. We wereunder the impression that the author was a man, and were thereforesurprised to find that "George Eliot" was only the _nom de plume_ of alady whose name was Marian Evans. Her grandfather was the villagewheelwright and blacksmith at Ellastone, and the prototype of "AdamBede" in her famous novel of that name. 

[Illustration: GEORGE ELLIOT'S "DONNITHORPE ARMS, " ELLASTONE. ]

It has been said that no one has ever drawn a landscape more graphicallythan Marian Evans, and the names of places are so thinly veiled that ifwe had read the book we could easily have traced the country covered by"Adam Bede. " Thus Staffordshire is described as Loamshire, Derbyshire asStoneyshire, and the Mountains of the Peak as the barren hills, whileOakbourne stands for Ashbourne, Norbourne for Norbury, and Hayslope, described so clearly in the second chapter of _Adam Bede_, is Ellastone, the "Donnithorpe Arms" being the "Bromley Arms Hotel, " where we stayedfor refreshments. It was there that a traveller is described in thenovel as riding up to the hotel, and the landlord telling him that therewas to be a "Methodis' Preaching" that evening on the village green, andthe traveller stayed to listen to the address of "Dinah Morris, " who wasElizabeth Evans, the mother of the authoress. 

[Illustration: ALTON TOWERS. ]

Wootton Hall, which stands immediately behind the village of Ellastone, was at one time inhabited by Jean Jacques Rousseau, the great Frenchwriter, who, when he was expelled from France, took the Hall for twelvemonths in 1776, beginning to write there his _Confessions_, as well ashis _Letters on Botany_, at a spot known as the "Twenty oaks. " It wasvery bad weather for a part of the time, and snowed incessantly, with abitterly cold wind, but he wrote, "In spite of all, I would rather livein the hole of one of the rabbits of this warren, than in the finestrooms in London. "

We now hurried across the country, along old country lanes and overfields, to visit Alton Towers; but, as it was unfortunately closed onthat day, it was only by trespassing that we were able to see a part ofthe grounds. We could see the fine conservatories, with their richlygilded domes, and some portion of the ground and gardens, which were ina deep dell. These were begun by Richard, Earl of Shrewsbury, in theyear 1814, who, after years of labour, and at enormous expense, converted them from a wilderness into one of the most extraordinarygardens in Europe, almost baffling description. There was a monumenteither to himself or the gardener, on which were the words:

 He made the desert smile. 

From the Uttoxeter Road we could see a Gothic bridge, with an embankmentleading up to it, and a huge imitation of Stonehenge, in which we weremuch interested, that being one of the great objects of interest weintended visiting when we reached Salisbury Plain. We were able toobtain a small guide-book, but it only gave us the information that thegardens consisted of a "labyrinth of terraces, walls, trellis-work, arbours, vases, stairs, pavements, temples, pagodas, gates, parterres, gravel and grass walks, ornamental buildings, bridges, porticos, seats, caves, flower-baskets, waterfalls, rocks, cottages, trees, shrubs andbeds of flowers, ivied walls, moss houses, rock, shell, and root work, old trunks of trees, etc. , etc. , " so, as it would occupy half a day tosee the gardens thoroughly, we decided to come again on some futureoccasion. A Gothic temple stood on the summit of a natural rock, andamong other curiosities were a corkscrew fountain of very peculiarcharacter, and vases and statues almost without end. 

We now followed the main road to the Staffordshire town of Uttoxeter, passing the ruins of Croxden Abbey in the distance, where the heart ofKing John had been buried, and where plenty of traces of the extremeskill in agriculture possessed by the monks can be seen. One side of thechapel still served as a cowshed, but perhaps the most interestingfeatures were the stone coffins in the orchard as originally placed, with openings so small, that a boy of ten can hardly lie in one. 

But we missed a sight which as good churchmen we were afterwards told weought to have remembered. October 31st was All-Hallows Eve, "when ghostsdo walk, " and here we were in a place they revelled in--so much so thatthey gave their name to it, Duninius' Dale. Here the curious sightsknown as "Will-o'-the-Wisp" could be seen magnificently by those whowould venture a midnight visit. But we had forgotten the day. 

[Illustration: CROXDEN ABBEY. ]

We stopped for tea at Uttoxeter, and formed the opinion that it was aclean but rather sleepy town. There was little to be seen in the church, as it was used in the seventeenth century as a prison for Scottishtroops, "who did great damage. " It must, however, have been a veryhealthy town, if we might judge from the longevity of the notables whowere born there: Sir Thomas Degge, judge of Western Wales and a famousantiquary, was born here in 1612, and died aged ninety-two; ThomasAllen, a distinguished mathematician and philosopher, the founder of thecollege at Dulwich and the local Grammar School as well, born 1542, diedaged ninety; Samuel Bentley, poet, born 1720, died aged eighty-three;Admiral Alan Gardner, born at the Manor House in 1742, and who, fordistinguished services against the French, was raised to the IrishPeerage as Baron Gardner of Uttoxeter, and was M. P. For Plymouth, diedaged sixty-seven; Mary Howitt, the well-known authoress, born 1799, alsolived to the age of eighty-nine. A fair record for a small country town!John Wesley preached in the marketplace, in the centre of which was afountain erected to the memory of Dr. Samuel Johnson, the distinguishedlexicographer. His father, whose home was at Lichfield, was a booksellerand had a bookstall in Uttoxeter Market, which he attended on marketdays. The story is told that on one occasion, not feeling very well, heasked his son, Samuel, to take his place, who from motives of prideflatly refused to do so. From this illness the old man never recovered, and many years afterwards, on the anniversary of that sorrowful day, Dr. Samuel Johnson, then in the height of his fame, came to the very spot inthe market-place where this unpleasant incident occurred and didpenance, standing bareheaded for a full hour in a pitiless storm of windand rain, much to the surprise of the people who saw him. 

[Illustration: THE WHITE CATTLE OF CHARTLEY. ]

We now bade good-bye to the River Dove, leaving it to carry its share ofthe Pennine Range waters to the Trent, and walked up the hill leadingout of the town towards Abbots Bromley. We soon reached a lonely anddensely wooded country with Bagot's Wood to the left, containing treesof enormous age and size, remnants of the original forest of Needwood, while to the right was Chartley Park, embracing about a thousand acresof land enclosed from the same forest by the Earl of Derby, about theyear 1248. In this park was still to be seen the famous herd of wildcattle, whose ancestors were known to have been driven into the parkwhen it was enclosed. These animals resisted being handled by men, andarranged themselves in a semi-circle on the approach of an intruder. Thecattle were perfectly white, excepting their extremities, their ears, muzzles, and hoofs being black, and their long spreading horns were alsotipped with black. Chartley was granted by William Rufus to Hugh Lupus, first Earl of Chester, whose descendant, Ranulph, a Crusader, on hisreturn from the Holy War, built Beeston Castle in Cheshire, withprotecting walls and towers, after the model of those at Constantinople. He also built the Castle at Chartley about the same period, A. D. 1220, remarkable as having been the last place of imprisonment for theunfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, as she was taken from there in 1586 tobe executed at Fotheringhay. 

[Illustration: THE "BANK INN, " CHARTLEY. ]

[Illustration: BEGGARS' OAK, BAGOTS WOOD. "We soon reached a lonely anddensely wooded country with Bagots Wood to the left, containing trees ofenormous size--remnants of the original forest of Needham. "]

We were interested in these stories of Chartley Castle, for in our owncounty cattle with almost the same characteristics were preserved in theParks of Lyme and Somerford, and probably possessed a similar history. That Ranulph was well known can be assumed from the fact that Langlandin his _Piers Plowman_ in the fourteenth century says:

 I cannot perfitly my paternoster as the Priest it singeth. But I can rhymes of Robin Hood and Randall Erie of Chester. 

Queer company, and yet it was an old story that Robin did find an asylumat Chartley Castle. 

[Illustration: THE HORN DANCERS, ABBOTS BROMLEY. ]

We overtook an elderly man on the road returning home from his day'stoil on the Bagot estate, and he told us of an old oak tree oftremendous size called the "Beggar's Oak"; but it was now too dark forus to see it. The steward of the estate had marked it, together withothers, to be felled and sold; but though his lordship was very poor, hewould not have the big oak cut down. He said that both Dick Turpin andRobin Hood had haunted these woods, and when he was a lad a good manyhorses were stolen and hidden in lonely places amongst the thick bushesto be sold afterwards in other parts of the country. 

The "Beggar's Oak" was mentioned in the _History of Staffordshire_ in1830, when its branches were measured by Dr. Darwen as spreading 48 feetin every direction. There was also a larger oak mentioned with a trunk21 feet 4-1/2 inches in circumference, but in a decayed condition. Thiswas named the Swilcar Lawn Oak, and stood on the Crown lands atMarchington Woodlands, and in Bagot's wood were also the Squitch, King, and Lord Bagot's Walking stick, all fine trees. There were also twofamous oaks at Mavesyn Ridware called "Gog and Magog, " but only theirhuge decayed trunks remained. Abbots Bromley had some curiousprivileges, and some of the great games were kept up. Thus the heads ofthe horses and reindeers for the "hobby horse" games were to be seen atthe church. 

[Illustration: MARKET PLACE, ABBOT'S BROMLAY]

The owner of this region, Lord Bagot, could trace his ancestry back tobefore the Conquest, for the Normans found one Bagod in possession. Incourse of time, when the estate had become comparatively poor, we heardthat the noble owner had married the daughter of Mr. Bass, the richbrewer of Burton, the first of the Peerage marriages with the familiesof the new but rich. 

We passed the Butter Cross and the old inn, reminiscent of stage-coachdays, as the church bell was tolling, probably the curfew, and longafter darkness had set in, for we were trying to reach Lichfield, wecame to the village of Handsacre, where at the "Crown Inn" we stayed thenight. 

(_Distance walked twenty-five miles_. )

_Wednesday, November 1st. _

Although the "Crown" at Handsacre was only a small inn, we were verycomfortable, and the company assembled on the premises the previousevening took a great interest in our travels. We had no difficulty ingetting an early breakfast, and a good one too, before leaving the innthis morning, but we found we had missed seeing one or two interestingplaces which we passed the previous night in the dark, and we had alsocrossed the River Trent as it flowed towards the great brewery town ofBurton, only a few miles distant. 

[Illustration: WHERE OFFA'S DYKE CROSSES THE MAIS ROAD. ]

[Illustration: LICHFIELD CATHEDRAL]

Daylight found us at the foot of the famous Cannock Chase. The Chasecovered about 30, 000 acres of land, which had been purposely kept out ofcultivation in olden times in order to form a happy hunting-ground forthe Mercian Kings, who for 300 years ruled over that part of thecountry. The best known of these kings was Offa, who in the year 757 hadeither made or repaired the dyke that separated England from Wales, beginning at Chepstow in Monmouthshire, and continuing across thecountry into Flintshire. It was not a dyke filled with water, as for themost part it passed over a very hilly country where water was notavailable, but a deep trench sunk on the Welsh side, the soil beingthrown up on the English side, forming a bank about four yards high, ofwhich considerable portions were still visible, and known as "Offa'sDyke. " Cannock Chase, which covered the elevations to our right, wasstill an ideal hunting-country, as its surface was hilly anddiversified, and a combination of moorland and forest, while themansions of the noblemen who patronised the "Hunt" surrounded it on allsides, that named "Beau-Desert, " the hall or hunting-box of the Marquisof Anglesey, being quite near to our road. 

We soon arrived at Lichfield, and on entering the town the three loftyand ornamental spires of the cathedral, which from their smartappearance were known as "The Three Ladies, " immediately attracted ourattention. But for these, travellers entering Lichfield by this roadmight easily have passed the cathedral without noticing it, as it standson low and rather swampy ground, where its fine proportions do not showto advantage. 

The Close of the cathedral, which partially surrounded it, was heavilyfortified in the time of the Civil War, causing the cathedral to be verybadly damaged, for it suffered no less than three different sieges bythe armies of the Parliament. 

[Illustration: ST. CHAD'S WELL, LICHFIELD. ]

The cathedral was dedicated to St. Chad, but whether he was the same St. Chad whose cave was in the rocky bank of the River Don, and about whomwe had heard farther north, or not, we could not ascertain. He must havebeen a water-loving saint, as a well in the town formed by a spring ofpure water was known as St. Chad's Well, in which the saint stood nakedwhile he prayed, upon a stone which had been preserved by building itinto the wall of the well. There was also in the cathedral at one timethe "Chapel of St. Chad's Head, " but this had been almost destroyedduring the first siege of 1643. The ancient writings of the patron saintin the early Welsh language had fortunately been preserved. Written onparchment and ornamented with rude drawings of the Apostles and others, they were known as St. Chad's Gospels, forming one of the most treasuredrelics belonging to the cathedral, but, sad to relate, had been removedby stealth, it was said, from the Cathedral of Llandaff. 

The first siege began on March 2nd, 1643, which happened to be St. Chad's Day, and it was recorded that during that siege "Lord Brooke whowas standing in the street was killed, being shot through the eye byDumb Dyott from the cathedral steeple. " The cathedral was afterwardsused by Cromwell's men as a stable, and every ornament inside andoutside that they could reach was greatly damaged; but they appeared tohave tried to finish the cathedral off altogether, when in 1651 theystripped the lead from the roof and then set the woodwork on fire. Itwas afterwards repaired and rebuilt, but nearly all the ornaments on thewest front, which had been profusely decorated with the figures ofmartyrs, apostles, priests, and kings, had been damaged or destroyed. Atthe Restoration an effort was made to replace these in cement, but thisproved a failure, and the only perfect figure that remained then on thewest front was a rather clumsy one of Charles II, who had given ahundred timber trees out of Needwood Forest to repair the buildings. Many of the damaged figures were taken down in 1744, and some otherswere removed later by the Dean, who was afraid they might fall on hishead as he went in and out of the cathedral. 

[Illustration: "THE THREE LADIES"]

In those days chimney sweepers employed a boy to climb up the inside ofthe chimneys and sweep the parts that could not be reached with theirbrush from below, the method of screwing one stale to the end of anotherand reaching the top in that way being then unknown. These boys wereoften cruelly treated, and had even been known to be suffocated in thechimney. The nature of their occupation rendered them very daring, andfor this reason the Dean employed one of them to remove the rest of thedamaged figures, a service which he satisfactorily performed at no smallrisk both to himself and others. 

There is a very fine view in the interior of the cathedral looking fromwest to east, which extends to a distance of 370 feet, and of which SirGilbert Scott, the great ecclesiastical architect, who was born in 1811, has written, "I always hold this work to be almost absolute perfectionin design and detail"; another great authority said that when he saw ithis impressions were like those described by John Milton in his "IlPenseroso":

 Let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloisters pale, And love the high embossed roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim, religious light: There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced quire below. In service high, and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstacies. And bring all heaven before mine eyes. 

We had not much time to explore the interior, but were obliged to visitthe white marble effigy by the famous Chantrey of the "SleepingChildren" of Prebendary Robinson. It was beautifully executed, but forsome reason we preferred that of little Penelope we had seen the daybefore, possibly because these children appeared so much older and morelike young ladies compared with Penelope, who was really a child. Another monument by Chantrey which impressed us more strongly than thatof the children was that of Bishop Ryder in a kneeling posture, which wethought a very fine production. There was also a slab to the memory ofAdmiral Parker, the last survivor of Nelson's captains, and some finestained-glass windows of the sixteenth century formerly belonging to theAbbey of Herckrode, near Liège, which Sir Brooke Boothby, the father oflittle Penelope, had bought in Belgium in 1803 and presented to thecathedral. 

[Illustration: THE WEST DOOR, LICHFIELD. ]

The present bishop, Bishop Selwyn, seemed to be very much loved, aseverybody had a good word for him. One gentleman told us he was thefirst bishop to reside at the palace, all former bishops having residedat Eccleshall, a town twenty-six miles away. Before coming to Lichfieldhe had been twenty-two years in New Zealand, being the first bishop ofthat colony. He died seven years after our visit, and had a greatfuneral, at which Mr. W. E. Gladstone, who described Selwyn as "a nobleman, " was one of the pall-bearers. The poet Browning's words were oftenapplied to Bishop Selwyn:

 We that have loved him so, followed and honour'd him, Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, Caught his clear accents, learnt his great language, Made him our pattern to live and to die. 

There were several old houses in Lichfield of more than local interest, one of which, called the Priest's House, was the birthplace in 1617 ofElias Ashmole, Windsor Herald to King Charles II, and founder of theAshmolean Museum at Oxford. When we got into the town, or city, we foundthat, although St. Chad was the patron saint of the cathedral, there wasalso a patron saint of Lichfield itself, for it was Johnson here, Johnson there, and Johnson everywhere, so we must needs go and see thehouse where the great Doctor was born in 1709. We found it adjoining themarket-place, and in front of a monument on which were depicted threescenes connected with his childhood: the first showing him mounted onhis father's back listening to Dr. Sacheverell, who was shown in the actof preaching; the second showed him being carried to school between theshoulders of two boys, another boy following closely behind, as if tocatch him in the event of a fall; while the third panel represents himstanding in the market-place at Uttoxeter, doing penance to propitiateHeaven for the act of disobedience to his father that had happened fiftyyears ago. When very young he was afflicted with scrofula, or king'sevil; so his mother took him in 1712, when he was only two and a halfyears old, to London, where he was touched by Queen Anne, being the lastperson so touched in England. The belief had prevailed from the time ofEdward the Confessor that scrofula could be cured by the royal touch, and although the office remained in our Prayer Book till 1719, theJacobites considered that the power did not descend to King William andQueen Anne because "Divine" hereditary right was not fully possessed bythem; which doubtless would be taken to account for the fact thatJohnson was not healed, for he was troubled with the disease as long ashe lived. When he was three years old he was carried by his father tothe cathedral to hear Dr. Sacheverell preach. This gentleman, who was aChurch of England minister and a great political preacher, was born in1672. He was so extremely bitter against the dissenters and their Whigsupporters that he was impeached before the House of Lords, andsuspended for three years, while his sermon on "Perils of FalseBrethren, " which had had an enormous sale, was burnt by the commonhangman! It was said that young Johnson's conduct while listening to thedoctor's preaching on that occasion was quite exemplary. 

[Illustration: MONUMENT TO SAMUEL JOHNSON, LICHFIELD. ]

Johnson was educated at the Lichfield Grammar School under Dr. Hunter, who was a very severe schoolmaster, and must have been one of those who"drove it in behind, " for Johnson afterwards wrote: "My Master whipt mevery well. Without that I should have done nothing. " Dr. Hunter boastedthat he never taught a boy anything; he whipped and they learned. It wassaid, too, that when he flogged them he always said: "Boys, I do this tosave you from the gallows!" Johnson went to Oxford, and afterwards, in1736, opened a school near Lichfield, advertising in the _Gentleman'sMagazine_ for young gentleman "to be boarded and taught the Latin andGreek languages, by Samuel Johnson. " He only got eight pupils, amongstwhom was David Garrick, who afterwards became the leading tragic actorof his time. Johnson had for some time been at work on a tragedy called_The Tragedy of Irene_, though whether this decided Garrick to become atragedy actor is not known; the play, however, did not succeed with theplay-going public in London, and had to be withdrawn. Neither did theschool succeed, and it had to be given up, Johnson, accompanied by DavidGarrick, setting off to London, where it was said that he lived in agarret on fourpence-halfpenny per day. Many years afterwards, whenJohnson was dining with a fashionable company, a remark was madereferring to an incident that occurred in a certain year, and Johnsonexclaimed: "That was the year when I came to London withtwopence-halfpenny in my pocket. "

Garrick overheard the remark, and exclaimed: "Eh, what do you say? withtwopence-halfpenny in your pocket?"

"Why, yes; when I came with twopence-halfpenny in my pocket, and thou, Davy, with three-halfpence in thine. "

Poverty haunted Johnson all through life until 1762, when he was granteda pension of £300 a year by King George III, on the recommendation ofLord Bute, the Prime Minister, who, in making the offer, said: "It isnot given you for anything you are to do, but for what you have done. "In the meantime Johnson had brought out his great Dictionary, at whichhe had worked for years in extreme poverty, and in the progress of whichhe had asked Lord Chesterfield to become his patron, in the hope that hewould render him some financial assistance. When he went to see him, however, he was kept waiting for over an hour, while his lordship amusedhimself by conversing with some second-rate mortal named "ColleyCibber, " and when this man came out, and Johnson saw who it was for whomhe had been kept waiting, he hurriedly and indignantly took hisdeparture. When his Dictionary was nearly ready for publication andlikely to become a great success, his lordship wrote to Johnson offeringto become his patron; but it was now too late, and Johnson's reply wascharacteristic of the man, as the following passages from his lettershow:

 Seven years, my Lord, have now passed since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been pushing on with my work through Difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one-smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a Patron before. The notice you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing that to a patron which Providence has enabled me to do for myself!

[Illustration: LICHFIELD CATHEDRAL, WEST FRONT. ]

Johnson's name is often associated with London taverns, but it would bewrong to assume on that account that he had bibulous tendencies, foralthough he described Boswell, who wrote his splendid biography, as a"clubable" man, and the tavern chair as the throne of human felicity, itshould be remembered that there were no gentlemen's clubs in London inthose days, hence groups of famous men met at the taverns. Johnson hadquite a host of friends, including Garrick, Burke, Goldsmith, Savage(whose biography he wrote), Sheridan, and Sir Joshua Reynolds. When SirJoshua Reynolds and Johnson were dining at Mrs. Garrick's house inLondon they were regaled with Uttoxeter ale, which had a "peculiarappropriate value, " but Johnson's beverage at the London taverns waslemonade, or the juice of oranges, or tea, and it was his boast that"with tea he amused the evenings, with tea solaced the midnight hour, and with tea welcomed the morning. " He was credited with drinkingenormous quantities of that beverage, the highest number of cupsrecorded being twenty-five at one time, but the size of the cups werevery much smaller in those days. 

Johnson, who died in 1784 at the age of seventy-five, was buried inWestminster Abbey, and, mainly through the exertions of his friend SirJoshua Reynolds, a statue of him was erected in St. Paul's Cathedral. 

Other eminent men besides Dr. Johnson received their education atLichfield Grammar School: Elias Ashmole, founder of the Ashmolean Museumat Oxford, Joseph Addison the great essayist, whose father was Dean ofLichfield, and David Garrick the actor, were all educated at the GrammarSchool. There were five boys who had at one period attended the schoolwho afterwards became judges of the High Court: Lord Chief JusticeWilles, Lord Chief Justice Wilmot, Lord Chief Baron Parker, Mr. JusticeNoel, and Sir Richard Lloyd, Baron of the Exchequer. 

Leaving Lichfield, we passed along the racecourse and walked as quicklyas we could to Tamworth, where at the railway station we found our boxawaiting us with a fresh change of clothing. In a few minutes we werecomfortably rigged out for our farther journey; the box, in which mybrother packed up the stones, was then reconsigned to our home address. I was now strong enough to carry my own luggage, which seemed to fitvery awkwardly in its former position, but I soon got over that. Therewas at Tamworth a fine old church dedicated to St. Editha which we didnot visit. We saw the bronze statue erected in 1852 to the memory of thegreat Sir Robert Peel, Bart. , who represented Tamworth in Parliament, and was twice Prime Minister, and who brought in the famous Bill for theAbolition of the Corn Laws. These Laws had been in operation from theyear 1436. But times had changed: the population had rapidly grown withthe development of industries, so that being limited to home production, corn reached such a high price that people came to see that the lawspressed hardly upon the poorer classes, hence they were ultimatelyabolished altogether. The Bill was passed in 1846, Cobden, Bright, andVilliers leading the agitation against them, and after the Corn Lawswere abolished a period of great prosperity prevailed in England. 

[Illustration: SIR ROBERT PEEL. _From the portrait by Sir ThomasLawrence_. ]

Sir Robert Peel died from the effect of an accident sustained whenriding on horseback in Hyde Park, on June 25th, 1850; he fell from hishorse, dying three days afterwards, and was buried in his mausoleum, inthe Parish Church of Drayton Bassett, a village about two miles fromTamworth. 

It was the day of the Municipal Elections as we passed through Tamworth, but, as only one ward was being contested, there was an almost totalabsence o f the excitement usual on such occasions. 

[Illustration: TAMWORTH CASTLE. ]

Tamworth Castle contains some walls that were built by the Saxons in aherringbone pattern. There was a palace on the site of the castle in thetime of Ofta, which was the chief residence of the Kings of Mercia; butWilliam the Conqueror gave the castle and town of Tamworth and the Manorof Scrivelsby in Lincolnshire to his dispensor, or royal steward, Robertof Fontenaye-le-Marmion in Normandy, whose family were the hereditarychampions of the Dukes of Normandy:

 These Lincoln lands the Conqueror gave, That England's glove they might convey To Knight renowned amongst the brave-- The Baron bold of Fontenaye. 

[Illustration: THE "LADY" BRIDGE, TAMWORTH. ]

Robert Marmion, therefore, was the first "King's Champion of England, "an honour which remained in his family until the death of the eighthLord, Philip Marmion, in 1291. This man was one of the leading nobles atthe Court of Henry III, and the stubborn defender of Kenilworth Castle, acting as King's Champion at the Coronation of Edward I on August 19th, 1274. The duty of the King's Champion on the day of Coronation was toride completely armed on a barbed horse into Westminster Hall, and thereto challenge to combat any who should gainsay the king's title. On thedeath of Philip de Marmion the Castle of Tamworth passed by marriage tothe Trevilles, Sir Alexander Treville, as owner of the castle, officiating; as Royal Champion at the Coronation of Edward III in 1327;but at the Coronation of Richard II, in 1377, the right of the Trevillefamily to act as champion was disputed by Sir John Dymoke, to whom theManor of Scrivelsby had descended by marriage from another relative ofPhillip Marmion. It was decided that the office went with the Manor ofScrivelsby, and the Dymokes had acted as King's Champion ever since, their coat of arms bearing in Latin the motto, "I fight for the king. "

As we passed over what is known as the Lady Bridge spanning the RiverTame, just where it joins the River Anker at the foot of the castle, wesaw a stone built in the bridge called the Marmion Stone, and rememberedSir Walter Scott's "Tale of Flodden Field" and his famous lines:

 "Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!" Were the last words of Marmion. 

But we found other references in Sir Walter's "Marmion":

 Two pursuivants, whom tabards deck, With silver scutcheon round their neck And there, with herald pomp and state, They hail'd Lord Marmion: They hail'd him Lord of Fontenaye, Of Lutterward, and Scrivelsbaye, Of Tamworth tower and town. 

and in the Fifth Canto in "Marmion, " King James of Scotland is made tosay:

 "Southward I march by break of day; And if within Tantallon strong. The good Lord Marmion tarries long, Perchance our meeting next may fall At Tamworth, in his castle-hall. "-- The haughty Marmion felt the taunt, And answer'd, grave, the royal vaunt: "Much honour'd were my humble home, If in its halls King James should come. 

 * * * * *

 And many a banner will be torn, And many a knight to earth be borne, And many a sheaf of arrows spent. Ere Scotland's King shall cross the Trent. "

Sir Walter described Marmion as having been killed in the battletogether with one of his peasants, and that as both bodies had beenstripped and were covered with wounds, they could not distinguish onefrom the other, with the result that the peasant was brought and buriedat Lichfield instead of his lord. 

 Short is my tale:--Fitz-Eustace' care A pierced and mangled body bare To moated Lichfield's lofty pile; And there, beneath the southern aisle, A tomb, with Gothic sculpture fair, Did long Lord Marmion's image bear, (Now vainly for its sight you look; 'Twas levell'd when fanatic Brook The fair cathedral storm'd and took; But, thanks to Heaven, and good Saint Chad, A guerdon meet the spoiler had!) There erst was martial Marmion found, His feet upon a couchant hound, His hands to heaven upraised: And all around, on scutcheon rich, And tablet carved, and fretted niche, His arms and feats were blazed. And yet, though all was carved so fair, And priest for Marmion breathed the prayer, The last Lord Marmion lay not there. 

[Illustration: MEREVALE ABBEY. ]

[Illustration: "KING DICK'S WELL. "]

The Marmion stone on the bridge has five unequal sides, and at one timeformed the base for a figure of the Virgin and the Child, which stood onthe bridge. The ancient family of Basset of Drayton, a village close by, were in some way connected with this stone, for on one side appeared thearms of the family, on another the monogram M. R. Surmounted by a crown, and on the two others the letters I. H. C. About two miles farther on weentered the village of Fazeley, purposely to see a house where arelative of ours had once resided, being curious to know what kind of aplace it was. Here we were only a short distance away from DraytonManor, at one time the residence of the great Sir Robert Peel. Havinggratified our curiosity, we recrossed the River Tame, passing along thegreat Watling Street, the Roman Road which King Alfred used as aboundary in dividing England with the Danes, towards Atherstone insearch of "fields and pastures new, " and in a few miles reached thegrounds of Merevale Abbey, now in ruins, where Robert, Earl Ferrers, wasburied, long before coffins were used for burial purposes, in "a good oxhide. " Here we reached the town of Atherstone, where the stapleindustry was the manufacture of hats, the Atherstone Company ofHat-makers being incorporated by charters from James I and Charles II. Many of the chiefs on the West Coast of Africa have been decorated withgorgeous hats that have been made at Atherstone. When the Romans weremaking their famous street and reached the spot where Atherstone nowstands, they came, according to local tradition, to a large stone thatwas in their way, and in moving it they disturbed a nest of adders, which flew at them. The stone was named Adders' Stone, which graduallybecame corrupted to Athers' Stone, and hence the name of the town. TheCorporation of the Governors embodied this incident in their coat ofarms and on the Grammar School, which was endowed in 1573: a stoneshowed the adders as springing upwards, and displaying the words, "Adderstonien Sigil Scholæ. " We called at the "Old Red Lion Inn, " and, going to explore the town while our refreshments were being prepared, found our way to a church, once part of a monastery, where the oldfourteenth-century bell was still tolled. It was in the chancel of thischurch that Henry, Earl of Richmond, partook of Holy Communion on theeve of his great victory over Richard III at the Battle of BosworthField, by which he became King Henry VII. He had also spent a night atthe "Three Tuns Inn" preparing his plans for the fight, which occurredtwo days later, August 22nd, 1485. There was on the site of the battle awell named "King Dick's Well, " which was covered with masonry in theform of a pyramid, with an entrance on one of its four sides, and whichcovered the spring where Richard, weary of fighting, had a refreshingdrink before the final charge that ended in his death. He, however, lostthe battle, and Henry of Richmond, who won it, was crowned King ofEngland at Stoke Golding Church, which was practically on thebattlefield, and is one of the finest specimens of decoratedarchitecture in England. But what an anxious and weary time these kingsmust have had! not only they, but all others. When we considered howmany of them had been overthrown, assassinated, taken prisoners in war, executed, slain in battle, forced to abdicate, tortured to death, committed suicide, and gone mad, we came to the conclusion thatShakespeare was right when he wrote, "Uneasy lies the head that wears acrown. " In his _King Richard II_ he makes the King say:

 "And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of Kings: How some have been deposed, some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed, Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd; All murder'd. "

One good result of the Battle of Bosworth Field was that it ended the"Wars of the Roses, " which had been a curse to England for thirty years. 

[Illustration: BULL BAITING STONE, ATHERSTONE. ]

Bull-baiting was one of the favourite sports of our forefathers, thebull being usually fastened to an iron ring in the centre of a piece ofground, while dogs were urged on to attack it, many of them being killedin the fight. This space of land was known as the Bull-ring, a nameoften found in the centre of large towns at the present day. We knew avillage in Shropshire where the original ring was still to be seenembedded in the cobbled pavement between the church and the village inn. But at Atherstone the bull had been fastened to a large stone, still tobe seen, but away from the road, which had now been diverted from itsoriginal track. 

The ancient whipping-post, along with the stocks, which hadaccommodation for three persons, had found their last resting-placeinside the old market-hall. They must have been almost constantlyoccupied and used in the good old times, as Atherstone was not only onthe great Watling Street, but it had a unique position on the otherroads of the country, as an old milestone near our hotel, where we foundour refreshments waiting our arrival, informed us that we were a hundredmiles from London, a hundred miles from Liverpool, and a hundred milesfrom Lincoln, so that Atherstone could fairly claim to be one of thecentral towns in England, though the distance to Lincoln had beenoverstated. 

[Illustration: STOCKS IN ATHERSTONE MARKET-HALL. ]

We continued walking along the Watling Street for a short distance, until we reached the end of the town, and then we forked on to the righttowards Nuncaton; but in a very short distance we came to the village ofMancetter, where there was a fine old church, apparently the ParishChurch of Atherstone. When the Romans were here they protected their"Street" by means of forts, and one in a small chain of these was atMancetter, the Manduesdum of the Romans, their camp appearing in theform of a square mound, with the "Street" passing through the centre. Inside the church were quite a number of very old books, in one of whichwe were shown a wood-cut representing the burning of Robert Glover andCornelius Bongley at Coventry in 1555. Glover was a gentleman who livedat the Manor House here, and was one of the Mancetter Martyrs, the otherbeing Mrs. Lewis, a tenant of his who lived at the Manor House Farm. Shewas burnt in 1557, two years later. A large tablet was placed in thechurch to their memories, both of them having suffered for theiradherence to the Protestant Faith. The east-end window was a curiosity, for it contained a large quantity of thirteenth-century stained glasswhich had been brought here from Merevale Abbey. It was probably damagedboth there and in transit, as it seemed to have a somewhat roughappearance; the verger informed us, when pointing out several defectsin the figures, that a local glazier had been employed to erect it whodid not understand such work, and though he had no doubt done his best, he had made some awkward mistakes. Why David's sword appeared behind hisback the verger could not explain, so my brother suggested that eitherthe head or the body had been turned the wrong way about. 

[Illustration: THE MANOR HOUSE, MANCETTER. ]

There were five bells in the church tower, the largest of which was, ofcourse, the tenor bell, weighing thirty-three hundredweight, and thewords that had been cast on it set us a-thinking:

 My soaring sound does warning give That a man on earth not only lives. 

There were usually some strange records in these country churchyards, and we generally found them in the older portions of the burial-grounds;but we had very little time to look for them as the night was coming on, so we secured the services of the verger, who pointed out in the newpart of the churchyard a stone recording the history of Charles RichardPotter in the following words:

 Born--May 11, 1788. Married--May 11, 1812. Died--May 11, 1858. 

So the eleventh day of May was a lucky or an unlucky day for Mr. Potter--probably both; but one strange feature which we only thought ofafterwards was that he had lived exactly the allotted span of threescore years and ten. In the old part of the yard were the followingepitaphs:

 The Earth's a City Full of crooked streets Death is ye market-place Where all must meet If life was merchandise That man could buy The rich would always live Ye poor must die. 

In bygone times it was no unusual thing to find dead bodies on the road, or oftener a short distance from it, where the owners had laidthemselves down to die; we ourselves remembered, in a lonely place, onlya field's breadth from the coach road to London, a pit at the side ofwhich years ago the corpse of a soldier had been found in the bushes. Here, apparently, there had been a similar case, with the exception thatthe man had been found by the side of the Watling Street instead of thefields adjoining. No one in the district knew who the stranger was, butas sufficient money had been found on him to pay the cost of the burial, his corpse was placed in Mancetter Churchyard, and as his name wasunknown, some mysterious initials, of which no one now living knew themeaning, appeared on the headstone. 

 Here lieth interr'd the Body of I. 

 H. I. M. 

 What Ere we was or am it matters not to whom related, or by whom begot, We was, but am not. Ask no more of me 'Tis all we are And all that you must be. 

We now hurried on, but as every finger-post had been painted white toreceive the new letters, the old words beneath the paint were quiteillegible, and, the road being lonely, of course we got lost, so, instead of arriving at Nuneaton, we found ourselves again at the WatlingStreet, at a higher point than that where we had left it when leavingAtherstone. Nearly opposite the lane end from which we now emerged therewas a public-house, set back from the road, where a sign, suspended froma pole, swung alongside the Watling Street to attract the attention oftravellers to the inn, and here we called to inquire our way toNuneaton. The name of the house was the "Royal Red Gate Inn, " the polewe had seen on the Watling Street holding a wooden gate painted red. Weasked why the red gate was a royal one, and the landlady said it wasbecause Queen Adelaide once called there, but who Queen Adelaide was, and when she called there, she did not know. When asked what she calledfor, she replied, "I don't know, unless it was for a drink!" As we didnot know who Queen Adelaide was ourselves, we had to wait until wereached Nuneaton, where we were informed that she was the wife ofWilliam IV, and that in her retirement she lived at Sudbury Hall inDerbyshire, so this would be on her coach road to and from London. Thelane at one end of the Red Gate went to Fenney Drayton, where George Foxthe Quaker was born, about whom we had heard farther north; but we hadto push on, and finally did reach Nuneaton for the night. 

_(Distance walked twenty-seven miles_. )

_Thursday, November 2nd. _

In our early days we used to be told there was only one man inManchester, which fact was true if we looked at the name; in the sameway we were told there was but one nun in Nuneaton, but the ruins of thenunnery suggested that there must have been quite a number there in thepast ages. We had seen many monasteries in our travels, but only onenunnery, and that was at York; so convent life did not seem to have beenvery popular in the North country, the chorus of a young lady's song ofthe period perhaps furnishing the reason why:

[Illustration: "GEORGE ELLIOT. "]

 Then I won't be a Nun, And I shan't be a Nun; I'm so fond of pleasure That I _cannot_ be a Nun. 

The nuns had of course disappeared and long since been forgotten, butother women had risen to take their places in the minds and memories ofthe people of Nuneaton, foremost amongst whom was Mary Ann Evans, whowas born about the year 1820 at the South Farm, Arbury, whither herfather, belonging to the Newdegate family, had removed from Derbyshireto take charge of some property in Warwickshire. "George Eliot" has beendescribed as "the greatest woman writer in English literature, " and asmany of her novels related mainly to persons and places between Nuneatonand Coventry, that district had been named by the Nuneaton people "TheCountry of George Eliot. " _Scenes of Clerical Life_ was published in1858, and _The Mill on the Floss_ in 1860, and although the charactersand places are more difficult to locate than those in _Adam Bede_, the"Bull Hotel" at Nuneaton has been identified as the "Red Lion" in hernovel, where Mr. Dempster, over his third glass of brandy and water, would overwhelm a disputant who had beaten him in argument, with somesuch tirade as: "I don't care a straw, sir, either for you or yourencyclopædia; a farrago of false information picked up in a cargo ofwaste paper. Will you tell me, sir, that I don't know the origin ofPresbyterianism? I, sir, a man known through the county; while you, sir, are ignored by the very fleas that infest the miserable alley in whichyou were bred!"

[Illustration: SOUTH FARM, ARBURY, THE BIRTHPLACE OF "GEORGE ELIOT"]

We left the "Newdegate Arms" at Nuneaton early in the morning, on ourway to Lutterworth, our next object of interest, and passed by thevillage of Hartshill, where Michael Drayton was born in 1563. He was alyric poet of considerable fame and a friend of Shakespeare. Hisgreatest work, _Polyolbion_, a poetic description of different parts ofEngland, was published in 1613. He became Poet Laureate, and at hisdeath, in 1631, was buried in Westminster Abbey. 

We again went astray owing to the finger-posts being without names, butat length reached the Watling Street at cross-roads, where there was avery old public-house called "The Three Pots, " and here we turned to theright along the Street. The road was very lonely, for there were veryfew houses on the Street itself, the villages being a mile or two awayon either side, but we had not gone very far before we met a Church ofEngland clergyman, who told us he had just returned from India, and thathe would much have liked to form one of our company in the journey wewere taking. He was sorry he had not met us lower down the road so thathe could have detained us a short time to listen to some of our tales ofadventures, and he would have given us a glass of beer and some breadand cheese; which he altered to milk and eggs when we told him we didnot drink beer. We explained to him that we should never be able tocomplete our journey if we joined the company of the beer-drinkers atthe many taverns we passed, and lingered at, on our way. Our experiencewas that we were expected to tell tales, and the farther we travelledthe more we should have had to tell. He quite saw the force of ourargument, and then he said: "I presume you are not married, " and when wetold him we were not, he said, "I thought not, as you would never havebeen allowed to engage in so long a journey, " and added, "I am justabout to be married myself. " We told him we were sorry he was about tolose his liberty, and, wishing him much happiness, and again thankinghim for his proffered hospitality, we resumed our march. 

[Illustration: HIGH CROSS, THE CENTRE OF ENGLAND. ]

In passing through country villages we often met the local clergyman ordoctor, of whom we invariably inquired concerning any objects ofinterest to be seen. It was marvellous how many of them expressed a wishto imitate our example. This, however, was only on fine days, for weseldom met those gentlemen when the weather was bad, and we wonderedwhether, if we had, they would still have expressed a wish to form oneof our company! Fine weather prevailed that day, and we soon arrived atthe High Cross which marked the Roman centre of England. It was at thispoint that their most celebrated roads, the Fosse Way and the WatlingStreet, crossed each other, running, we supposed, from north-east tosouth-west and from north-west to south-east, to the extreme ends of thekingdom in each direction. The Cross in the time of the Romans was madeof wood, being replaced or renewed in successive generations, until inthe middle of the seventeenth century it was utilised as a finger-post, consisting of a long pole with four arms, to direct the way from "Londonto West Chester, " and from "York to Bristol. " In 1712 an ornamentalstone cross was erected on the same spot by a number of gentlemen headedby Basil, the fourth Earl of Denbigh, who had large estates in thatneighbourhood. The tableland on which it stood was 440 feet above thesea-level, rivers running from it in every direction, and such was theextent of the country visible from the Cross that with the aid of atelescope fifty-six churches could be seen. This elevated position mightaccount for the Cross being struck by lightning in 1791 and partiallydestroyed, but the inscriptions on the base, which had been leftstanding, were still visible, although partially obscured by thenumerous names and initials of vandals, who have succeeded in closingmany interesting places to more civilised and sensible people. We couldperhaps go further and describe them as fools, for what will it matterto posterity what their initials or names are; they only rouse the ireof those who follow them and a feeling of disappointment that they hadnot caught the offenders in their act of wanton mischief and been ableto administer some corporal punishment or other. 

Years ago the benevolent owner of a fine estate situated near a towndecided to open his beautiful grounds to his poorer neighbours, butbefore doing so he erected at the entrance gate two large woodentablets resembling the two tablets of the Ten Commandments formerlyfixed in churches but now rapidly disappearing, and on these he causedhis conditions and desires to be painted in poetry, four verses on eachtablet. They represent what most landowners desire but few obtain:

 I

 No chief to enter at this gate To wander through this fine estate; The owner of this ancient Hall A kindly welcome bids to all: Yet hopes that no one will neglect The following wishes to respect. 

 II

 When in the meadows grown for hay. Keep to the Drive or right of way. Fright not the cattle on the lea Nor damage flower nor shrub nor tree; And let no vestiges be found Of paper, scattered o'er the ground. 

 III

 One more request will sure suffice: From carving any rude device Refrain! and oh let no one see Your name on post, or bridge or tree. Such were the act of fool, whose name We fear can ne'er descend to fame. 

 IV

 Your olive-branches with you take, And let them here their pastime make. These scenes will ever seem more fair When children's voices fill the air: Or bring, as comrade in your stroll, Your Dog, if under due control. 

 V

 If, to the gentle art inclined, To throw a fly you have a mind. Send in your card and state your wish To be allowed to catch a fish: Or if the woodland to explore, Pray seek permission at the door. 

 VI

 These boons are granted not quite free, Y'et for a very moderate fee; Nor fear but what it is ordained That all the money thus obtained Shall to the fund be handed down For aid to sick in yonder Town. 

 VII

 The owner of this blest domain Himself to sojourn here is fain; And if by land or sea he roam Yet loveth best his native home, Which, for two centuries or near, His ancestors have held so dear. 

 VIII

 Admire well the graceful art Of Nature's hand in every part: Full well he knoweth how to prize This fair Terrestrial Paradise; And 'tis his wish sincere and true That others should enjoy it too. 

But to return to the High Cross and the Watling Street. The descriptionon the Cross was in Latin, of which the following is a translation:

 The noblemen and gentry, ornaments of the counties of Warwickshire and Leicestershire at the instance of the Right Honourable Basil Earl of Denbigh, have caused this pillar to be erected in grateful as well as perpetual remembrance of peace at last restored by her Majesty Queen Anne. If, Traveller, you search for the footsteps of the ancient Romans you may here behold them. For here their most celebrated ways crossing one another extend to the utmost boundaries of Britain. Here the Bennones kept their quarters and at the distance of one mile from here Claudius, a certain commander of a Cohort, seems to have had a camp towards the Street, and towards the Fosse a tomb. 

We were pleased to see that the remains of the Cross had been enclosedin the garden of a house belonging to the Earl of Denbigh, a descendantof the Earl who had been instrumental in building it, and it was nowcomparatively safe from further defacement. 

The Romans built stations along their roads, and near the High Crossstood their military station Bennones, on the side of which many Romanremains, including a Roman urn, had been discovered. It was of greatimportance to them that any hostile movement amongst the turbulentBritons should be reported immediately, so young men who were quickrunners were employed to convey intelligence from one station toanother; but this system was improved upon later by building on the sideof the road, in as prominent a position as possible, at intervals offive or six miles, a house where forty horses were stabled so that newsor soldiers could, if required, be carried by relays of horses adistance of a hundred miles along the road in the course of a singleday. We were now only about twelve miles from Leicester, and we had towalk about six miles in that county in order to reach Lutterworth, famous throughout England as the parish where the great Reformer JohnWiclif spent the last nineteen years of his life as rector. We passedthrough a fine grazing and fox-hunting country on our way, and foundLutterworth a rather pleasantly situated little town. Our first visitwas naturally to the church, and as we walked along the quiet streetleading up to it we saw a woman standing at her cottage door, to whomwe spoke concerning the great divine, asking incidentally how long itwas since he was rector there. She said she did not know exactly, but asfar as she could remember she thought it was about 146 years since hedied. On arriving at the church we found that it was about 487 yearssince Wiclif departed, and we thought it strange that a lady who livedalmost under the shadow of the church steeple could have been soill-informed. The church had recently been restored, and a painting ofthe Day of Doom, or Judgment, had been discovered over the arch of thechancel under the whitewash or plaster, which we were told OliverCromwell had ordered to be put on. At the top of this picture ourSaviour was represented as sitting on a rainbow with two angels on eachside, two of whom were blowing trumpets, and on the earth, whichappeared far down below, the graves were opening, and all sorts ofstrange people, from the king down to the humblest peasant, were comingout of their tombs, while the fire and smoke from others proclaimed thedoom of their occupants, and skulls and bones lay scattered about in alldirections. 

[Illustration: JOHN WICLIF. _From the portrait in Lutterworth Church_]

It was not a very pleasant picture to look upon, so we adjourned to thevestry, where we were shown a vestment worn by Wiclif in which someholes had been cut either with knives or scissors. On inquiry we wereinformed that the pieces cut out had been "taken away by visitors, "which made us wonder why the vestment had not been taken better care of. We were shown an old pulpit, and the chair in which Wiclif fell when hewas attacked by paralysis, and in which he was carried out of church todie three days afterwards. We could not describe his life and workbetter than by the inscription on the mural monument subscribed for in1837:

 Sacred to the Memory of John Wiclif the earliest Champion of Ecclesiastical Reformation in England. He was born in Yorkshire in the year 1324, and in the year 1375 he was presented to the Rectory of Lutterworth. At Oxford he acquired not only the renown of a consummate Schoolman, but the far more glorious title of the Evangelical Doctor. His whole life was one perpetual struggle against the corruptions and encroachments of the Papal Court and the impostures of its devoted auxiliaries, the Mendicant Fraternities. His labours in the cause of Scriptural truths were crowned by one immortal achievement, his Translation of the Bible into the English tongue. This mighty work drew on him, indeed, the bitter hatred of all who were making merchandise of the popular credulity and ignorance, but he found abundant reward in the blessing of his countrymen of every rank and age, to whom he unfolded the words of Eternal Light. His mortal remains were interred near this spot, but they were not allowed to rest in peace. After a lapse of many years his bones were dragged from the grave and consigned to the flames; and his ashes were cast in the waters of the adjoining stream. 

That he was a man of distinction may be taken for granted, as he wasmaster of that famous college at Oxford, Balliol College, where hispicture hangs in the dining-hall to-day. 

When in Lichfield Cathedral, where we saw Chantrey's monument of BishopRyder, we had omitted to ask for particulars about him, but here we weretold that he was appointed Rector of Lutterworth in 1801, and had been abenefactor to the town. He was made Canon of Windsor in 1808, Dean ofWells 1812, Bishop of Gloucester 1815, and finally became Bishop ofLichfield and Coventry. He died at Hastings in 1836, and as Chantreyhimself died in 1841, his monument of Bishop Ryder, that had impressedus so deeply, must have been one of his latest and best productions. 

[Illustration: LUTTERWORTH CHURCH]

Lutterworth was the property of William the Conqueror in 1086, and itwas King Edward III who presented the living to Wiclif, who was not onlypersecuted by the Pope, but also by the Archbishop of Canterbury and theBishop of London. On two occasions he had to appear before the PapalCommission, and if he had not been the personal friend of John o' Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the fourth son of the King Edward who had given himthe living, and probably the most powerful man in England next to theking, he would inevitably have suffered martyrdom. He was equallyfortunate in the following reign, as John o' Gaunt was uncle to RichardII, the reigning monarch, under whose protection he was spared to finishhis great work and to translate the Holy Bible so that it could be readin the English language. 

We went to see the bridge which crossed the small stream known as theRiver Swift, for it was there that Wiclif's bones were burned and theashes thrown into the stream. The historian related that they did notremain there, for the waters of the Swift conveyed them to the RiverAvon, the River Avon to the River Severn, the Severn to the narrow seas, and thence into the wide ocean, thus becoming emblematic of Wiclif'sdoctrines, which in later years spread over the wide, wide world. 

A well-known writer once humorously observed that the existence of agallows in any country was one of the signs of civilisation, butalthough we did not see or hear of any gallows at Lutterworth, therewere other articles, named in the old books of the constables, whichmight have had an equally civilising influence, especially if they hadbeen used as extensively as the stocks and whipping-post as recorded ina list of vagrants who had been taken up and whipped by ConstablesCattell and Pope, from October 15th, 1657, to September 30th, 1658. Therecords of the amounts paid for repairs to the various instruments oftorture, which included a lock-up cage for prisoners and a cuck, orducking-stool, in which the constables ducked scolding wives and otherwomen in a deep hole near the river bridge, led us to conclude that theymust have been extensively used. 

A curious custom prevailed in Lutterworth in olden times. There were twomills on the River Swift, and the people were compelled to grind alltheir malt at one mill and all their corn at another, and to bake alltheir bread in one oven; in those "days of bondage" a person durst notbuy a pound of flour from any other miller. These privileges were abusedby the millers to make high charges, and it was on record that a personwho ventured to bake a cake in his own oven was summoned, but dischargedon his begging pardon and paying expenses. This unsatisfactory state ofthings continued until the year 1758, when a rebellion arose headed by alocal patriot named Bickley. This townsman roused his fellow-citizens toresist, and built a malthouse of his own, his example being soonfollowed by others, who defied the owner of the privileged mill, andentered into a solemn bond to defend any action that might be broughtagainst them. The contest was one of the most interesting and remarkableever known in the district, and was decided at the Leicester Assizes inJuly 1758, the verdict being in favour of the parishioners, with coststo the amount of £300. One of the greatest curiosities to be seen inLutterworth was an old clock which was there in 1798, and still remainedin good working order; the description of it reads as follows:

 The case is of mahogany; and the face is oval, being nineteen inches by fifteen inches. The upper part exhibits a band of music, consisting of two violins, a violoncello, a German flute, three vocal performers, and a boy and girl; the lower part has the hour and minutes indicated by neat gilt hands; above the centre is a moment hand, which shows the true dead beat. On the right is a hand pointing to--chimes silent--all dormant--quarters silent--all active; to signify that the clock will perform as those words imply. On the left is a hand that points to the days of the week, and goes round in the course of seven days, and shifts the barrel to a fresh time at noon and midnight. The clock strikes the hour, the four quarters, and plays a tune three times over every three hours, either on the bells alone, the lyricord, or on both together. Three figures beat exact time to the music, and three seem to play on their instruments; and the boy and the girl both dance through the whole if permitted. But still, by a touch all are dormant, and by another touch all are in action again. The lyricord will play either low or loud. The machine goes eight days, either as a watch clock, quarter clock, quarter-chime-clock or as a quarter chime lyrical clock. It will go with any or all parts in action, or with any or all parts dormant. It has four chime barrels, and plays sixty-five tunes, many of them in two or three parts, on nineteen musical bells, and on the like number of double musical wires. A child may do everything necessary to show its varied and complicated action. 

[Illustration: LUTTERWORTH AND THE RIVER SWIFT, WHERE THE ASHES OFWICLIF WERE SCATTERED. ]

The maker was Mr. Deacon, a Baptist minister of Barton-in-the-Beans, whobegan life as a farm boy when he was eleven years of age. A gentlemanhappened to call on the farmer one evening and had some nuts given tohim, and as he could not crack them, one of the other servants said tothe boy, "Sam, bring the wooden nut-crackers you made!" When the boybrought them, the visitor, after cracking a nut, examined them carefullyfor some time, and was so struck with the ingenuity displayed in theirconstruction that he took the lad and apprenticed him to a clock-makerin Leicester, where he became one of the cleverest workmen in thekingdom, the most elaborate and curious piece of mechanism he made beingthis wonderful clock. 

We returned from Lutterworth by a different route, for we were now offto see Peeping Tom at Coventry; but our experiments on the roads werenot altogether satisfactory, for we got lost in some by-roads wherethere was no one to inquire from, and eventually reached the snug littlevillage of Monks Kirby. Here, according to the name of the village, weshould at one time have found a Danish settlement, and at another achurch belonging to the monks; but on this occasion we found a churchand a comfortable-looking inn opposite to it, where we called for anearly tea. This was quickly served and disposed of, and shortlyafterwards we reached, coming from the direction of the High Cross, theFosse, or Foss-way, one of the four great roads made by the Romans inEngland, so named by them because there was a fosse, or ditch, on eachside of it. We walked along its narrow and straight surface until wecame to a road which crossed it, and here, about halfway between Rugbyand Coventry, we turned to the right, leaving the "fosse" to continueits course across Dunsmore Heath, where in ancient times Guy, the famousEarl of Warwick, slew the terrible Dun Cow of Dunsmore, "a monstrouswyld and cruell beast. " The village of Brinklow was now before us, presenting a strange appearance as we walked towards it from the brookbelow, for at the entrance stood a lofty mound formerly a Roman camp, while behind it was a British tumulus. In the Civil War there was muchfighting all along the road from here to Coventry, and Cromwell'ssoldiers had not left us much to look at in the church, as the windowshad all been "blown out" at that time, leaving only some small pieces ofstained glass. The church, however, was quite a curiosity, for it slopedwith the hill, and was many feet lower at the Tower end than at theeast. We walked along a rather steep inclined plane until we came to aflight of four steps which landed us on the chancel floor, where anotherinclined plane brought us up to the foot of the two steps leading to thealtar; we were told that there was only one other church built in such aform "in all England. " We were now well within the borders of the countyof Warwickshire, which, with the other two Midland Counties ofWorcestershire and Staffordshire, formerly contained more leading RomanCatholic families than any other part of England, so we were notsurprised when we heard that we were passing through a country that hadbeen associated with the Gunpowder Plot, and that one incident connectedwith it had occurred at Combe Abbey, which we would pass a mile or twofarther on our way. The originator of the Gunpowder Plot, Catesby, wasintimately connected with many of the leading families in thesecounties, and was lineally descended from the Catesby of King RichardIII's time, whose fame had been handed down in the old rhyme:

 The Rat, the Cat, and Lovel the Dog Rule all England under the Hog. 

the rat meaning Ratcliffe, the cat Catesby, and the hog King Richard, whose cognisance was a boar. Robert Catesby, the descendant of the"cat, " was said to be one of the greatest bigots that ever lived; he wasthe friend of Garnet, the Jesuit, and had been concerned in many plotsagainst Queen Elizabeth; when that queen died and King James, the son ofMary Queen of Scots, ascended the throne, their expectations rose high, for his mother had suffered so much from Queen Elizabeth that theylooked upon her as a martyr, and were sure that their form of religionwould now be restored. But great was their chagrin when they found thatJames, probably owing to his early education under John Knox inScotland, was more ready to put the laws in force against the Papiststhan to give them greater toleration. 

[Illustration: THE OLD MANOR HOUSE, ASHBY ST. LEDGERS. ]

Catesby and his friends resolved to try to depose James and to place thePrincess Elizabeth, daughter of James I, afterwards the beautiful Queenof Bohemia, whom her royal parents had placed under the care of the Earlof Harrington, then the owner of Combe Abbey, about five miles fromCoventry, on the throne in his stead. The conspirators assembled atDunchurch, near Rugby, but held their meetings about six miles away, ina room over the entrance to the old Manor House at Ashby St. Ledgers, the home of Catesby, where it was proposed to settle matters by blowingup the Houses of Parliament. These were to be opened on November 5th, 1605, when the King, Queen, and Prince of Wales, with the Lords andCommons, would all be assembled. In those days the vaults, or cellars, of the Parliament House were let to different merchants for the storageof goods, and one of these immediately under the House of Lords wasengaged and filled with some innocent-looking barrels, in realitycontaining gunpowder, which were covered by faggots of brushwood. Allpreparations were now completed except to appoint one of their number toapply the torch, an operation which would probably involve certaindeath. In the meantime Catesby had become acquainted with Guy Fawkes, amember of an old Yorkshire family, and almost as bigoted a Papist ashimself, who had joined the conspirators at Dunchurch, the house wherehe lodged being still known as Guy Fawkes' House, and when the questioncame up for decision, he at once volunteered his services, as he was asoldier and a brave man. They were accepted, and Sir Everard Digby wasto stay at Dunchurch in order to be ready to seize the young PrincessElizabeth while the others went to London. It so happened that one ofthe conspirators had a friend, Lord Monteagle, whom he knew would besure to attend the opening of Parliament, and as he did not want him tobe killed he caused an anonymous letter to be written warning him not toattend the opening of Parliament, "for though there be no appearance ofany stir, yet I say they shall receive a terrible blow this Parliament, and yet shall not see who hurts them. " The letter was delivered toMonteagle by a man in a long coat, who laid it on his table anddisappeared immediately. It was afterwards handed to King James, who, after reading the last paragraph, repeated it aloud, "and yet they shallnot see who hurts them, " and said to Cecil, "This smells gunpowder!"Their suspicions were aroused, but they waited until midnight onNovember 4th, and then sent soldiers well armed to search the vaults, where they found a man with a long sword amongst the barrels. He foughtsavagely, but was soon overpowered. When the conspirators found thattheir plot had been discovered, and that Guy Fawkes was in custody, instead of escaping to France as they might easily have done, theyhastened down to Dunchurch, "as if struck by infatuation, " in the wildhope of capturing the young Princess and raising a civil war in hername; but by the time they reached Combe Abbey, the Earl of Harringtonhad removed Elizabeth to Coventry, which at that time was one of themost strongly fortified places in England. They now realised that theirgame was up, and the gang dispersed to hide themselves; but when thedreadful nature of the plot became known, it created such a profoundsensation of horror throughout the country, that every one joined in thesearch for the conspirators, who in the end were all captured andexecuted. Great rejoicings were held, bonfires lit, bells rung, and gunsfired in almost every village, and thereby the people were taught to--

 Remember, remember, the Fifth of November The Gunpowder, Treason, and Plot. 

These celebrations have been continued on each fifth of November forcenturies, November 5th becoming known as "Bonfire Day. " And in our Bookof Common Prayer there was a special service for the day which was onlyremoved in the time of Queen Victoria. Guy Fawkes was executed onFebruary 6th, 1606. 

Fortunately for the Protestants the reign of the queen who was known bythem as the "Bloody Queen Mary" was of short duration, for they werethen subjected to very great cruelties; on the other hand there was nodoubt that during the much longer reign of Queen Elizabeth thatfollowed, the Papists also suffered greatly; still under James they werenow bound to suffer more in every way, short of death, for the greatmass of their fellow-countrymen had turned against them owing to themurderous character of the Gunpowder Plot, so--

 On Bonfire Day, as Britons should, They heaped up sticks, and turf, and wood; And lighted Bonfires bright and hot, In memory of the Popish Plot!

We were ourselves greatly interested in November 5th, which was now dueto arrive in three days' time; not because some of our ancestors hadbeen adherents to the Roman Catholic Faith, nor because of themassacres, for in that respect we thought one side was quite as bad asthe other; but because it happened to be my birthday, and some of ourearliest and happiest associations were connected with that day. I couldremember the time when a candle was placed in every availablewindow-pane at home on November 5th, and when I saw the glare of the bigbonfire outside and the pin-wheels, the rip-raps, and small fireworks, and heard the church bells ringing merrily, and the sound of the gunsfiring, I naturally thought as a child that all these tokens ofrejoicing were there because it was my birthday. Then the children fromthe village came! first one small group and then another; these were the"Soulers, " or "Soul-Cakers, " who ought to have appeared, according tohistory, on All Souls' Day; they were generally satisfied with apples orpears, or with coppers. The most mysterious visitor was the horse'shead, or hobby horse, which came without its body or legs, but couldmake a noise just like the neighing of a horse, and could also open itsmouth so wide that a glass filled with beer could pass down its throat. To complete the illusion we could hear its jaws, which were filled withvery large teeth, close together with a crack, and although the glasswas returned in some way or other, we never saw the beer again. Thehorse's head was accompanied by a lot of men known as Mummers, dressedin all sorts of queer clothes, who acted a short play, but the onlywords I could remember were, "King George, King George, thou hast killedmy only son!" and at that point one of the actors fell on the grass asif he were dead. But these were reveries of the past; when the spellbroke I found myself walking with my brother in the dark alongside thegrounds of Combe Abbey, the only lights we could see being some in thepark, which might have been those from the abbey itself. We wereexpecting to come upon a private menagerie which was supposed to existsomewhere in the park, and we had prepared ourselves for the roars ofthe lions seeking their prey as they heard our footsteps on the road, orfor the horrid groans of other wild animals; but beyond a few minornoises, which we could not recognise, all was quiet, and passing thesmall village of Binley we soon arrived at Coventry, where we stayed forthe night at an ancient hostelry near the centre of the town. 

St. George, the Patron Saint of England, who lived in the early part ofthe fourth century, and was reckoned among the seven champions ofChristendom, was said to have been born in Coventry. In olden times achapel, named after him, existed here, in which King Edward IV, when hekept St. George's Feast on St. George's Day, April 23rd, 1474, attendedservice. Coventry was a much older town than we expected to find it, and, like Lichfield, it was known as the city of the three spires; buthere they were on three different churches. We had many arguments on ourjourney, both between ourselves and with others, as to why churchesshould have towers in some places and spires in others. One gentlemanwho had travelled extensively through Britain observed that towers weremore numerous along the sea coasts and on the borders of Wales andScotland, while spires were most in evidence in the low Midland plainswhere trees abounded. In these districts it was important to have partof the church standing out from the foliage, while on a hill or a barecliff a short tower was all that was needed. He actually knew more thanone case where the squires in recent times had a short spire placed onthe top of the church tower, like the extinguisher of an oldcandlestick, because it was said they needed guide-posts by which tofind their way home from hunting!

[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL'S CHURCH SPIRE, COVENTRY. ]

In olden times, ere the enemy could approach the village, the cattlewere able to be driven in the church, while the men kept an easylook-out from the tower, and the loopholes in it served as places wherearrows could be shot from safe cover. In some districts we passedthrough we could easily distinguish the position of the villages by thespires rising above the foliage, and very pretty they appeared, and attimes a rivalry seemed to have existed which should possess the loftiestor most highly decorated spire, some of them being of exceptionalbeauty. The parish churches were almost invariably placed on the highestpoint in the villages, so that before there were any proper roads theparishioners could find their way to church so long as they could seethe tower or spire, and to that position at the present day, it isinteresting to note, all roads still converge. 

We had no idea that the story of Lady Godiva and Peeping Tom was soancient, but we found it dated back to the time of Leofric, Earl ofMercia, who in 1043 founded an abbey here which was endowed by his wife, the Lady Godiva. The earl, the owner of Coventry, levied very hard taxeson the inhabitants, and treated their petitions for relief with scorn. Lady Godiva, on the contrary, had moved amongst the people, and knew thegreat privations they had suffered through having to pay these heavytaxes, and had often pleaded with her husband on their behalf. At lasthe promised her that he would repeal the taxes if she would ride nakedthrough the town, probably thinking his wife would not undertake such atask. But she had seen so much suffering amongst the poor people thatshe decided to go through the ordeal for their sakes, and the day wasfixed, when she would ride through the town. Orders were given by thepeople that everybody should darken their windows and retire to the backpart of their houses until Lady Godiva had passed. All obeyed except oneman, "Tom the Tailor, " afterwards nicknamed "Peeping Tom, " who, as thelady rode by on her palfrey, enveloped in her long tresses of hair, which fell round her as a garment, looked down on her from his window, and of him the historian related that "his eyes chopped out of his headeven as he looked. " The ride ended, the taxes were repealed, and everafterwards the good Lady Godiva was enshrined in the hearts of thepeople of Coventry. Many years later a beautiful stained-glass windowwas placed in the Parish Church to commemorate this famous event, andLeofric was portrayed thereon as presenting Godiva with a charterbearing the words:

 I Luriche for love of thee Doe make Coventry toll free. 

[Illustration: THOMAS PARR =_The Olde, Old, very Olde Man or Thomas Par, the Sonne of John Parr of Winnington in the Parish of Alberbury. In theCounty of Shropshire who was Borne in 1483 in The Raigne of King Edwardthe 4th and is now living in The Strand, being aged 152 yeares and oddMonethes 1635 He dyed November the 15th And is now buryed in Westminster1635_=]

This story Tennyson has immortalised, and its memory is stillperpetuated in the pageants which are held from time to time in thecity. Coventry was described in 1642 by Jeremiah Wharton, an officerunder the Earl of Essex in the Parliamentary Army, as "a City environedwith a wall, co-equal with, if not exceeding, that of London, forbreadth and height, and with gates and battlements, and magnificentchurches and stately streets, and abundant fountains of water, altogether a place very sweetly situated, and where there was no lack ofvenison. " The walls of Coventry, begun in the year 1355, were veryformidable, being six yards high and three yards thick, and havingthirty-two towers and twelve principal gates. They defied both Edward IVand Charles I when with their armies they appeared before them anddemanded admission, but they were demolished after the Civil War byorder of Charles II, because the people of Coventry had refusedadmission to his father, King Charles I. Coventry possessed a greaternumber of archives than almost any other town in England, covering eightcenturies and numbering over eleven thousand. My brother was delightedto find that one of them related to a very old man named Thomas Parr, recording the fact that he passed through the town on his way to Londonin 1635, at the age of 152 years. It reminded him of a family medicineknown as Old Parr's Pills, which at one time was highly prized; they hadbeen used by our grandfather, who died in his ninety-seventh year, andhe often wondered whether his longevity was in any way due to thosepills. They were supposed to have been made from the same kind of herbsas old Parr was known to have used in his efforts to keep himself alive, and during supper my brother talked about nothing else but that old man;if he was an authority on anything, it was certainly on old Thomas Parr. This man was born on the Montgomery border of Shropshire, where a tabletto his memory in Great Wollaston Church bore the following inscription:

 The old, old, very old man

 THOMAS PARR

 was born at Wynn in the Township of Winnington within the Chapelry of Great Wollaston, and Parish of Alberbury, in the County of Salop, in the year of our Lord 1483. He lived in the reigns of 10 Kings and Queens of England, King Edward IV. And V. Richard III. Henry VII. VIII. Edward VI. Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth. King James I. King Charles I. He died the thirteenth and was buried at Westminster Abbey on the fifteenth November 1635 Age 152 years and 9 months. 

John Taylor, known as the Water Poet because he was a Thames waterman, who was born in 1580, and died in 1656, was a contemporary of Parr, andwrote a book in 1635, the same year that old Parr died, entitled _TheOlde, Olde, very Olde Man_, in which he described Thomas Parr as anearly riser, sober, and industrious:

 Though old age his face with wrinkles fill. He hath been handsome and is comely still; Well-faced, and though his Beard not oft corrected Yet neate it grows, not like a Beard neglected. 

Earl Arundel told King Charles I about this very old man, and heexpressed a desire to see him; so the earl arranged to have him carriedto London. When the men reached old Parr's cottage, which is stillstanding, they found an old man sitting under a tree, apparently quitedone. Feeling sure that he was the man they wanted, they roused him up, and one said, "We have come for you to take you to the King!" The oldman looked up at the person who spoke to him, and replied, "Hey, mon!it's not me ye want! it's me feyther!" "Your father!" they said, inastonishment; "where is he?" "Oh, he's cuttin' th' hedges!" So they wentas directed, and found a still older man cutting away at a hedge in thesmall field adjoining the cottage, and him they took, together with hisdaughter, for whom the earl had provided a horse. Musicians also wentwith him, and it was supposed that he was exhibited at the differenttowns they called at on their way to London, and such was the crush tosee him in Coventry that the old man narrowly escaped being killed. Whenhe was taken into the presence of King Charles, the king said, "Well, Parr, you've lived a long time, " and Parr answered, "Yes I have, yourMajesty. " "What do you consider the principal event in your long life?"asked the king, to which Parr replied that he hardly knew, but mentionedsome offence which he had committed when he was a hundred years old, andfor which he had to do penance in Alberbury Church, with the young womansitting beside him barefooted, and dressed in white clothing! WhereuponKing Charles said, "Oh, fie, fie, Parr, telling us of your faults andnot your virtues!"

[Illustration: OLD PARR'S COTTAGE. ]

Parr was fêted in London to such an extent that he died of surfeit, andwas buried in the Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbey, where histombstone still exists, and is inscribed:

 Thomas Parr of Y'E County of Sallop Borne in A'P 1483. He lived in Y'E Reignes of Ten Princes VIZ:-- K. Edw. 4. K. Edw. 5. K. Rich. 3. K. Hen. 7. K. Hen. 8. K. Edw. 6. Q. Ma. Q. Eliz. K. Ja. & K. Charles Aged 152 Years & was buried Here Novemb. 15. 1635. 

His portrait was painted by Van Dyck, who at that time was the Courtpainter of King Charles I, and there were other oil paintings of him invarious places in England and abroad. 

(_Distance walked thirty-one miles_. )

_Friday, November 3rd. _

[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL'S CHURCH, COVENTRY. ]

Our hotel was quite near the Coventry Parish Church dedicated to St. Michael, which was said to be the largest parish church in England, sowe went out early this morning to visit it. We found it to be a veryfine church, and in it we saw some workmen erecting a beautifulstained-glass window in which they had already placed the likeness oftwo saints, one of whom was St. Ambrose. We wondered why they should beputting such images in what we supposed to be the Reformed Church ofEngland. The men told us we should find a very fine stained-glass windowacross the way in St. Mary's Hall, which had been erected in the time ofHenry VI, and was originally the work of John Thornton of Coventry, whoalso had charge of the erection of the famous east window we had alreadyseen in York Minster. We only saw the exterior of the windows in St. Mary's Hall, as we could not find any door that was open, so we hurriedaway to form the acquaintance of "Peeping Tom, " whose image we had comeso many miles to see. We found him high up on a corner of a street as iflooking down on the passers-by below. The building in which he appearedwas doing duty as a public-house, so we went in and saw the landlord, towhom we explained the nature of our visit and journey, and he kindlyconducted us up the steps to the small room at the top of the housewhere Peeping Tom was to be seen. He was a repulsive-looking image ofhumanity, made of wood, without arms, and with a hideous face; how longhe had occupied his present position no one knew, but as we had seenimages of wood made hundreds of years ago, we were willing to supposethat he was a relic of antiquity. Photography at the time of our visitwas only in its infancy, but small cards, 4 inches long by 2-1/2 incheswide, with photographic views on them, were beginning to make theirappearance--picture postcards being then unknown. On our tour wecollected a number of these small cards, which were only to be found inthe more populous places. In our case we were able to get one atCoventry of Peeping Tom, a facsimile of which we here produce. We didnot stay long in his company, for we looked upon him as an ugly anddisreputable character, but hurried back to our hotel for a goodbreakfast before starting on our walk to the country of Shakespeare. 

[Illustration: PEEPING TOM AT HIS WINDOW. ]

[Illustration: PEEPING TOM. ]

The dull days of November were now upon us, which might account to someextent for the sleepy appearance of the old town of Coventry; but itappeared that underlying all this was a feeling of great depressioncaused by the declining state of its two staple industries--watches andsilk. The manufacture of watches had been established here for manyyears, for as early as 1727 the archives recorded that a watch-maker hadbeen appointed Mayor of Coventry, and for anything we knew themanufacture of silk might have been quite as old an industry there; butthe competition of American and Swiss watches was making itselfseriously felt, and the Treaty with France which admitted French silksinto England, duty free, was still more disastrous, causing muchapprehension for the future prosperity of the "good old town. "

We lost a little time before starting, as my brother had seen somethingin a shop window that he wanted to buy, but having forgotten the exactposition of the shop, we had to search diligently until we found it. Itwas quite an artistic bookmarker made of white silk, with ornamentalbordering in colours which blended sweetly, enclosing a scroll, orunfolding banner, which only displayed one word at each fold:

 The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. 

I never knew what became of that book-mark until years later, after hewas married, when I saw it in his family Bible, and then I could guesswhere it had been in the interval. I noticed also that he began toquicken his speed considerably, and to be inclined to walk farther eachday, his explanation being that we were obliged to make up for losttime. I also noticed that he wrote more notes in his diary in shorthand, his knowledge of which I envied. He said that before he started on thejourney he imagined he knew the history of England, but had now becomeconvinced that he had it all to learn, and he thought the best way tolearn it thoroughly was by walking from John o' Groat's to Land's End. 

[Illustration: KENILWORTH CASTLE FROM THE BRIDGE. ]

A story was once told of two commercial travellers who had travelledextensively, and were asked to write down the prettiest road in allEngland, and one of them wrote "from Kenilworth to Coventry" and theother wrote "from Coventry to Kenilworth"! This was the road on which wehad now to walk to reach what was known as "Shakespeare's country. "There were many pretty roads in England, and although this road was veryfine, being wide and straight and passing through a richly woodedcountry, we had seen many prettier roads as regarded scenery. We soonarrived at the historical Castle of Kenilworth, which, judging from theextent of its ruins and lofty towers, must at one time have been amagnificent place. According to local history the castle was originallybuilt in the reign of Henry I, and at one time it was in the possessionof Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, who was born in 1206, and whohas been described as the "Father of English Parliaments. " Henrybelonged to the Plantagenet family, the reigning house from Henry II in1154 to Richard III, who was killed at the Battle of Bosworth Field in1485. The strangest history in that family appeared to be that ofEleanor Plantagenet, the daughter of Henry II, who caused her to bemarried when only four years old to the great Earl of Pembroke, who wasthen forty, and who took her as a bride to his home when she was onlyfourteen years old, leaving her a widow at sixteen. She was thrown intosuch an agony of grief that she took a solemn vow in the presence of theArchbishop of Canterbury never to marry again, but to become a bride ofChrist. Seven years afterwards, however, she returned to the Court ofher brother, who was then Henry III, and, meeting Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, the king's favourite, one of the most handsome andaccomplished of courtiers, to whom he had given Kenilworth Castle, thewidowed countess forgot her vow, and though solemnly warned by theArchbishop of the peril of breaking her oath, Montfort easily persuadedHenry to give him his sister in marriage. The king knew that both theChurch and the barons would be violently opposed to the match, and thatthey could only be married secretly; so on one cold January morning in1238 they were married in the king's private chapel at Windsor; but thesecret soon became known to the priests and the peers, and almostprovoked a civil war. The Princess Eleanor was not happy, as herhusband, who had lost the favour of her brother the king, was ultimatelykilled in the cause of freedom, along with her eldest son, at the Battleof Evesham. He was the first to create a Parliament. 

[Illustration: ELIZABETH, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. ]

In the year 1206 a festival was held at Kenilworth, attended by onehundred knights of distinction, and the same number of ladies, at whichsilks were worn for the first time in England, and in 1327 Edward II wasthere compelled to sign his abdication in favour of his son. KenilworthCastle probably attained the zenith of its prosperity in the time ofQueen Elizabeth, who in 1563 conferred it upon her favourite, RobertDudley, Earl of Leicester, who entertained her there with greatmagnificence on four different occasions, 1566, 1568, 1572, and 1575. But the former glory of Kenilworth Castle had departed, and we only sawit in the deplorable condition in which it had been left by Cromwell'ssoldiers. They had dismantled the lofty towers, drained the lake, destroyed the park, and divided the land into farms, and we looked uponthe ruins of the towers, staircases, doorways, and dungeons with afeeling of sorrow and dismay. We could distinguish the great hall, withits chimney-pieces built in the walls; but even this was without eitherfloor or roof, and the rest appeared to us as an unintelligible mass ofdecaying stonework. And yet, about half a century before we made ourappearance at the ruins, a visitor arrived who could see through themalmost at a glance, and restored them in imagination to their formermagnificence, as they appeared in the time of Queen Elizabeth. He hasdescribed the preparations for the great feast given in her honour in1575 by the Earl of Leicester, and resuscitated the chief actors in thatmemorable and magnificent scene. He was described as "a tall gentlemanwho leaned rather heavily on his walking-stick, " and although littlenotice was taken of him at the time, was none other than the great SirWalter Scott, whose novel _Kenilworth_ attracted to the neighbourhoodcrowds of visitors who might never have heard of it otherwise. 

We had begun to look upon Sir Walter in the light of an oldacquaintance, once formed never to be forgotten, and admired hisdescription of Kenilworth Castle:

 The outer wall of this splendid and gigantic structure inclosed seven acres, a part of which was occupied by extensive stables, and by a pleasure garden, with its trim arbours and parterres, and the rest formed a large base-court, or outer yard, of the noble Castle. The Lordly structure itself, which rose near the centre of this spacious enclosure was composed of a huge pile of magnificent castellated buildings, apparently of different ages, surrounding an inner court, and bearing in the names of each portion attached to the magnificent mass, and in the armorial bearings which were there blazoned, the emblems of mighty chiefs who had long passed away, and whose history, could Ambition have lent ear to it, might have read a lesson to the haughty favourite who had now acquired and was augmenting the fair domain. A large and massive Keep, which formed the Citadel of the Castle, was of uncertain, though great antiquity. It bore the name of Cæsar, perhaps from its resemblance to that in the Tower of London so called. The external wall of this Royal Castle was on the south and west sides adorned and defended by a Lake, partly artificial, across which Leicester had constructed a stately bridge, that Elizabeth might enter the Castle by a path hitherto untrodden. Beyond the Lake lay an extensive Chase, full of red deer, fallow deer, roes, and every species of game, and abounding with lofty trees, from amongst which the extended front and massive towers of the Castle were seen to rise in majesty and beauty. 

The great feast provided by the Earl of Leicester in honour of the visitof Queen Elizabeth to Kenilworth Castle in 1575 was of a degree ofmagnificence rarely equalled either before or since, extendingcontinuously over the seventeen days of the queen's stay, beginning attwo o'clock, at which time the great clock at the castle was stopped andstood at that hour until the Princess departed. The cost of theseceremonies was enormous, the quantity of beer alone consumed beingrecorded as 320 hogsheads. 

[Illustration: KENILWORTH CASTLE, LEICESTER BUILDINGS AND CÆSAR'STOWER. ]

Sir Walter describes the preparations for the feast and theheterogeneous nature of the crowd of people who attended it. Theresources of the country for miles round were taxed to their utmost, fornot only the queen's purveyors, but the Earl of Leicester's householdofficers had been scouring it in all directions to provide the necessaryviands and provisions. The services in this respect of all the leadingfamilies had been requisitioned, and--

 They took this opportunity of ingratiating themselves by sending large quantities of provisions and delicacies of all kinds, with game in huge quantities, and whole tuns of the best liquors, foreign and domestic. Thus the high-roads were filled with droves of bullocks, sheep, calves and hogs, and choked with loaded wains, whose axle-trees creaked under their burdens of wine-casks and hogsheads of ale, and huge hampers of grocery goods, and slaughtered game, and salted provisions, and sacks of flour. Perpetual stoppages took place as these wains became entangled; and their rude drivers, swearing and brawling till their wild passions were fully raised, began to debate precedence with their wagon-whips and quarter-staves, which occasional riots were usually quieted by a purveyor, deputy-marshal's man, or some other person in authority breaking the heads of both parties. Here were, besides, players and mummers, jugglers and showmen, of every description, traversing in joyous bands the paths which led to the Palace of Princely Pleasure; for so the travelling minstrels had termed Kenilworth in the songs which already had come forth in anticipation of the revels, which were there expected. In the midst of this motley show, mendicants were exhibiting their real or pretended miseries, forming a strange though common contrast betwixt the vanities and the sorrows of human existence. All these floated along with the immense tide of population, whom mere curiosity had drawn together; and where the mechanic, in his leathern apron, elbowed the dink and dainty dame, his city mistress; where clowns with hobnailed shoes were treading on the kibes of substantial burghers and gentlemen of worship; and where Joan of the dairy, with robust pace and red sturdy arms, rowed her way onwards, amongst those prim and pretty moppets, whose sires were knights and squires. The throng and confusion was, however, of a gay and cheerful character. All came forth to see and to enjoy, and all laughed at the trifling inconveniences which at another time might have chafed their temper. Excepting the occasional brawls we have mentioned among that irritable race the Carmen, the mingled sounds which arose from the multitude were those of light-hearted mirth and tiptoe jollity. The musicians preluded on their instruments--the minstrels hummed their songs--the licensed jester whooped betwixt mirth and madness, as he brandished his bauble--the morrice-dancers jangled their bells--the rustics hallow'd and whistled--men laughed loud, and maidens giggled shrill; while many a broad jest flew like a shuttle-cock from one party to be caught in the air, and returned from the opposite side of the road by another, at which it was aimed. 

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO THE GREAT HALL, KENILWORTH. ]

The arrival of the Queen, who had journeyed from Warwick Castle, hadbeen somewhat delayed, and the Guards had some difficulty in keeping thecourse clear until she appeared with the lords and ladies whoaccompanied her. It was dark when she approached the Castle, andimmediately there arose from the multitude a shout of applause, sotremendously vociferous that the country echoed for miles around. TheGuards, thickly stationed upon the road by which the Queen was toadvance, caught up the acclamation, which ran like wildfire to thecastle, and announced to all within that Queen Elizabeth had entered theRoyal Castle of Kenilworth. The whole music of the castle sounded atonce, and a round of artillery, with a salvo of small arms, wasdischarged from the battlements; but the noise of drums and trumpets, and even of the cannon themselves, was but faintly heard amidst theroaring and reiterated welcome of the multitude. As the noise began toabate, a broad glare of light was seen to appear from the gate of thepark, and, broadening and brightening as it came nearer, advance alongthe open and fair avenue that led towards the Gallery Tower, lined oneither hand by the retainers of the Earl of Leicester. The word waspassed along the lines, "The Queen! The Queen! Silence, and stand fast!"Onward came the cavalcade, illuminated by 200 thick waxen torches, inthe hands of as many horsemen, which cast a light like that of broad dayall around the procession, but especially on the principal group, ofwhich the Queen herself, arrayed in the most splendid manner, andblazing with jewels, formed the central figure. She was mounted on amilk-white horse, which, she reined with peculiar grace and dignity, andin the whole of her stately and noble carriage you saw the daughter of ahundred kings. 

[Illustration: KENILWORTH CASTLE IN 1871. ]

Leicester, who glittered like a golden image with jewels and cloth ofgold, rode on her Majesty's right hand, as well in quality as her Hostas of her Master of the Horse. The black steed which he mounted had nota single white hair on his body, and was one of the most renownedchargers in Europe, having been purchased by the earl at large expensefor this royal occasion. As the noble steed chafed at the slow speed ofthe procession, and, arching his stately neck, champed on the silverbits which restrained him, the foam flew from his mouth and speckled hiswell-formed limbs as if with spots of snow. The rider well became thehigh place which he held and the proud animal which he bestrode, for noman in England, or perhaps in Europe, was more perfect than Dudley inhorsemanship and all other exercises belonging to his rank. He wasbareheaded, as were all the courtiers in the train, and the redtorchlight shone upon his long curled tresses of dark hair and on hisnoble features, to the beauty of which even the severest criticism couldonly object the lordly fault, as it may be termed, of a foreheadsomewhat too high. On that proud evening he wore all the gracefulsolicitude of a subject, to show himself sensible of the high honourwhich the Queen was conferring on him, and all the pride andsatisfaction which became so glorious a moment. The train, male andfemale, who attended immediately upon the Queen's person, were of courseof the bravest and the fairest--the highest born nobles and the wisestcouncellors of that distinguished reign, and were followed by a crowd ofknights and gentlemen. It was now the part of the huge porter, a man ofimmense size, to deliver an address and drop his club and resign hiskeys to give open way to the Goddess of the Night and all hermagnificent train, but as he was so overwhelmed with confusion ofspirit--the contents of one immense black jack of double ale--Sir Walteronly records the substance of what the gigantic warder ought to havesaid in his address:

 What stir, what turmoil, have we for the nones? Stand back, my masters, or beware your bones! Sirs, I'm a warder, and no man of straw, My voice keeps order, and my club gives law. Yet soft, --nay stay--what vision have we here? What dainty darling this--what peerless peer? What loveliest face, that loving ranks enfold. Like brightest diamond chased in purest gold? Dazzled and blind, mine office I forsake, My club, my Key, my knee, my homage take. Bright paragon, pass on in joy and bliss;-- Beshrew the gate that opes not wide at such a sight as this!

Elizabeth received most graciously the homage of the herculean porterand then passed through the guarded tower amidst the sounds of trumpetsand other instruments stationed on the tower and in various parts of thecastle, and dismounted near Mortimer's Tower, which was as light as dayas she walked across the long bridge built especially for her and litwith torches on either side. She had no sooner stepped upon the bridgethan a new spectacle was provided, for as soon as the music gave signalthat she was so far advanced, a raft on the lake, disposed as toresemble a small floating island, illuminated by a great variety oftorches, and surrounded by floating pageants formed to representsea-horses, on which sat Tritons, Nereids, and other fabulous deities ofthe seas and rivers, made its appearance upon the lake, and, issuingfrom behind a small heronry where it had been concealed, floated gentlytowards the farther end of the bridge. On the islet appeared a beautifulwoman, clad in a watchet-coloured silken mantle, bound with a broadgirdle, inscribed with characters like the phylacteries of the Hebrews. Her feet and arms were bare, but her wrists and ankles were adorned withgold bracelets of uncommon size. Amidst her long silky black hair shewore a crown or chaplet of artificial mistletoe, and bore in her hand arod of ebony tipped with silver. Two nymphs attended on her, dressed inthe same antique and mystical guise. The pageant was so well managedthat the Lady of the Floating Island, having performed her voyage withmuch picturesque effect, landed at Mortimer's Tower with her twoattendants, just as Elizabeth presented herself before that outwork. Thestranger then in a well-penned speech announced herself as that famousLady of the Lake renowned in the stories of King Arthur, who had nursedthe youth of the redoubted Sir Lancelot, and whose beauty had proved toopowerful both for the wisdom and the spells of the mighty Merlin. Sincethat period she had remained possessed of her crystal dominions, shesaid, despite the various men of fame and might by whom Kenilworth hadbeen successively tenanted. The Saxons, the Danes, the Normans, theSaintlowes, the Clintons, the Montforts, the Mortimers, thePlantagenets, great though they were in arms and magnificence, hadnever, she said, caused her to raise her head from the waters which hidher crystal palace. But a greater than all these great names had nowappeared, and she came in homage and duty to welcome the peerlessElizabeth to all sport which the castle and its environs, which lake orland, could afford! The queen received the address with great courtesyand the Lady of the Lake vanished, and Arion, who was amongst themaritime deities, appeared upon his dolphin in her place. But amidst allthis pageantry Sir Walter throws a side-light on Mervyn's Tower, wherewe see a prisoner, a pale, attenuated, half dead, yet still lovely lady, Amy Robsart, the neglected wife of Leicester, incarcerated there whileher husband is flirting with the queen in the gay rooms above. Herfeatures are worn with agony and suspense as she looks through thenarrow window of her prison on the fireworks and coloured fires outside, wondering perhaps whether these were emblems of her own miserable life, "a single spark, which is instantaneously swallowed up by thesurrounding darkness--a precarious glow, which rises but for a briefspace into the air, that its fall may be lower. "

[Illustration: MERVYN'S TOWER, KENILWORTH CASTLE. ]

Sir Walter Scott described Kenilworth as "a place to impress on themusing visitor the transitory value of human possessions, and thehappiness of those who enjoy a humble lot in virtuous contentment, " andit was with some such thoughts as these in our own minds that we hurriedaway across fields and along lovely by-lanes towards Leamington, ourobject in going there by the way we did being to get a view of the greatmansion of Stoneleigh, the residence of Lord Leigh, who was also alandowner in our native County of Chester. It seemed a very fine placeas we passed through the well-wooded park surrounding it, and presentlyreached his lordship's village of Ashow, where the old church, standingon a small knoll at the end of the village, looked down upon the RiverAvon below, which was here only a small stream. The roofs of many of thecottages were thatched with straw, and although more liable to be set onfire than those covered with the red tiles so common in the County ofWarwick, they looked very picturesque and had the advantage of not beingaffected so much by extremes of temperature, being warmer in winter andcooler in summer for those who had the good fortune to live under them. We noticed several alms houses in the village, and near the smithy had atalk with an old man who was interested to know that we came fromCheshire, as he knew his lordship had some property there. He told usthat when a former Lord Leigh had died, there was a dispute amongst theLeigh family as to who was the next owner of the estate, and about fiftymen came up from Cheshire and took possession of the abbey; but as theverdict went against them they had to go back again, and had to paydearly for their trespass. He did not know where the Leighs came fromoriginally, but thought "they might have come from Cheshire, " so we toldhim that the first time they were heard of in that county was when theDevil brought a load of them in his cart from Lancashire. He crossedthe River Mersey, which divided the two counties, at a ford nearWarrington, and travelled along the Knutsford road, throwing one of themout occasionally with his pikel, first on one side of the road and thenon the other, until he had only a few left at the bottom of his cart, and as he did not think these worth taking any farther, he "keck'd" hiscart up and left them on the road, so there were persons named Lee, Legh, or Leigh living on each side of that road to the present day. Theold man seemed pleased with our story and grinned considerably, and nodoubt it would be repeated in the village of Ashow after we had left, and might probably reach the ears of his lordship himself. 

Two of the Lees that the Devil left on the road when he upset his carttook possession of the country on either side, which at that time wascovered with a dense forest, and selected large oak trees to mark theirboundaries, that remained long after the other trees had disappeared. But in course of time it became necessary to make some other distinctionbetween the two estates, so it was arranged that one landlord shouldspell his name Legh and the other Leigh, and that their tenants shouldspell the name of the place High Legh in one case and High Leigh in theother, so that when name-plates appeared on carts, each landlord wasable to tell to which estate they belonged. There were many antiquitiesin the country associated with his Satanic Majesty, simply because theirorigin was unknown, such as the Devil's Bridge over which we had passedat Kirkby Lonsdale, and the Devil's Arrows at Aldborough, and it wasquite possible that the remote antiquity of the Legh family mightaccount for the legend connected with them. There were several factsconnected with the Cheshire estate of the Leghs which interested us, thefirst being that my grandfather was formerly a tenant on the estate, andthe squire had in his possession the rent rolls for every year sinceabout 1289. A fact that might interest ladies who are on the lookout fora Mr. Wright is, that out of a hundred tenants on that estate at thepresent day, twenty-seven householders bear the name of Wright. 

[Illustration: REMAINS OF THE BROAD OAK, HIGH LEGH. ]

But the strangest incident connected with High Legh was the case of ayoung man who came from Scotland to work in the squire's gardens there. He had attended Warrington Market, and was returning over the riverbridge when he stopped to look at a placard announcing a missionarymeeting to be held in the town that night. He decided to stay, althoughhe had quite seven miles to walk on his way home, and was so impressedby what he heard that he decided to become a missionary himself, andbecame one of the most famous missionaries of the nineteenth century. His name was Robert Moffat, and he laboured hard in South Africa, wherehis son-in-law, David Livingstone, following his example, also became arenowned explorer and missionary in the "Dark Continent. "

 Accept me for Thy service, Lord, And train me for Thy will, For even I in fields so broad Some duties may fulfil; And I will ask for no reward Except to serve Thee still. MOFFAT. 

[Illustration: ROBERT MOFFAT. ]

We soon arrived at Leamington, which was quite an aristocratic town, anddifferent from any other we had seen on our journey, for it consistedchiefly of modern houses of a light stone colour, which contrastedfinely with the trees with which the houses were interspersed andsurrounded, and which must have appeared very beautiful in the springtime. 

The chief object of interest there was the Spa, which although known totravellers in the seventeenth century, had only come into prominenceduring recent times, or since the local poets had sung its praises. Inthe introduction to a curious book, published in 1809 by James Bissett, who described himself as "Medallist to his Majesty King George theThird, proprietor of the Picture Gallery, public, news-room, and themuseum at Leamington, " there appeared the following lines:

 Nay! Foreigners of rank who this look o'er To try the Wells may quit their native shore; For when they learn the virtues of the Spaw Twice tens of thousands to the spot will draw, As when its wondrous powers are pointed out And men found cap'ring who have had the gout; When pallid cheeks regain their roseate blush And vigorous health expels the hectic flush When those once hypp'd cast the crutch away; Sure when the pride of British Spas they see They'll own the humble instrument in me!

The Spa, it appeared, had been patronised by royalty on severaloccasions, and Queen Victoria in 1838 acceded to the request that theinhabitants might henceforth style the town the "Royal Leamington Spa. "Benjamin Satchwell claimed to have discovered the principal well therein 1784, and on his tombstone in the churchyard appeared the following:

 Hail the unassuming tomb Of him who told where health and beauty bloom, Of him whose lengthened life improving ran-- A blameless, useful, venerable man. 

We only stayed a short time here, and then walked quickly through a finecountry to the ancient town of Warwick, with Guy's Cliffe and BlacklowHill to our right, the monument on the hill being to Piers Gaveston, Earl of Cornwall, the hated favourite of Edward II. Gaveston wasbeheaded on the hill on July 1st, 1312, and the modern inscriptionreads:

 In the hollow of this rock was beheaded, on the first day of July 1312, by barons, lawless as himself, Piers Gaveston, Earl of Cornwall, the minion of a hateful King, in life and death a memorable instance of misrule. 

[Illustration: GUY'S TOWER, WARWICK]

Gaveston surrendered to the insurgent barons at Scarborough, oncondition that his life should be spared; but he had offended the Earlof Warwick by calling him the "Black Hound of Arden, " and the earlcaused him to be conveyed to Warwick Castle. When brought beforeWarwick there, the Earl muttered, "Now you shall feel the Hound'steeth, " and after a mock trial by torchlight he was led out of thecastle and beheaded on the hill. Every one of the barons concerned inthis rather diabolical action died by violence during the next fewyears. 

[Illustration: WARWICK CASTLE FROM THE RIVER. "As we crossed the bridgewe had a splendid view of Warwick Castle . . . The finest example of afortified castle in England . . . The 'fairest monument of ancient andchivalrous splendour yet uninjured by time. '"]

[Illustration: WARWICK CASTLE]

[Illustration: THE PORTCULLIS. ]

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TOWERS. ]

[Illustration: WARWICK CASTLE]

As we crossed the bridge leading over the River Avon we had a splendidview of Warwick Castle, which had the reputation of being the finestexample of a fortified castle in England, Sir Walter Scott describing itas "the fairest monument of ancient and chivalrous splendour which yetremain uninjured by time. " It could boast of a continuous history fromthe time of Ethelfreda, the daughter of the Saxon King, Alfred theGreat, and its towers rose to a considerable height, Cæsar's towerreaching an elevation of 174 feet. Here could be seen the famous andexquisite Vase of Warwick, in white marble, of unknown age and offabulous value, said to have been found at the bottom of a lake nearHadrian's Villa, at Tivoli, in Italy. There were an immense number ofcurios in the castle, some of which were connected with that famouscharacter Guy, Earl of Warwick, including his shield, sword, and helmet, and his kettle of bell-metal, twenty-six feet wide and capable ofholding 120 gallons of water. We had no time to visit the interior ofthe castle, but it was interesting to read, in one of his letters, whatDr. Adam Clark saw there in 1797: "I was almost absolutely a prey toastonishment and rapture while I contemplated the painting of the wifeof Schneider by Rubens, such a speaking canvas I never beheld. " He sawthe large Etruscan vases collected by Sir William Hamilton, some bronzecups dug out of the ruins of Herculaneum, and the bed in which QueenAnne slept and which, according to report, she wrought with her ownhands. In the Armoury he was permitted to fit on some of the armour, andattempted also to wield the sword of Guy, Earl of Warwick, which weighedseventy pounds. He also examined the rest of Guy's gigantic equipments, not omitting his porridge-pot, which held no gallons and was filledevery time an Earl of Warwick came of age. This Guy was not the famousKing Maker, but the original Guy, who lived at a time when England wascovered with thick forests in which savage beasts, now unknown, roamedat large, causing great havoc amongst the early settlers, both to theirpersons and their cattle. Of gigantic stature, he was renowned for hiscourage and prowess, and, being in love with the fair Felice at WarwickCastle, for her sake he performed prodigious feats of valour, both athome and abroad. Amongst other monsters which preyed upon and terrifiedhuman beings he killed the wild and fierce Dun Cow which infested Dun'sMoor, a place we had passed by the previous day; and we were reminded ofhis prowess when we saw the sign of the "Dun Cow" displayed on inns inthe country, including that on the hotel at Dunchurch. He went on apilgrimage to the Holy Land, where he killed many Saracens, and when onhis return he landed at Portsmouth, King Athelstane, ignorant of hisname, asked him if he would become his champion in a contest on whichthe fate of England depended. The king told him that the Danes had withthem a champion named Colbran, a gigantic Saracen, and that they hadoffered to stake their fortunes on a duel between him and an Englishchampion, not yet found, on condition that if Colbran won, England mustbe given up to Anlaf, King of Denmark, and Govelaph, King of Norway. Guyundertook the fight willingly, and defeated and killed the giganticSaracen, after which he privately informed the king that he was the Earlof Warwick. He secured the hand and affections of the fair Felice, butwhen the thoughts of all the people he had killed began to haunt him, heleft her, giving himself up to a life of devotion and charity, while hedisappeared and led the life of a hermit. She thought he had gone intoforeign lands, and mourned his loss for many years; but he was quitenear the castle all the time, living beside the River Avon in a cave ina rock, which is still called Guys Cliffe, and where he died. Huge boneswere found and kept in the castle, including one rib bone, whichmeasured nine inches in girth at its smallest part and was six and ahalf feet long; but this was probably a bone belonging to one of thegreat wild beasts slain by the redoubtable Guy. We were sorry we couldnot explore the castle, but we wanted particularly to visit themagnificent Beauchamp Chapel in St. Mary's Church at Warwick. We foundthis one of those places almost impossible to describe, and couldendorse the opinion of others, that it was "an architectural gem of thefirst water and one of the finest pieces of architectural work in thekingdom. " It occupied twenty-one years in building, and contains thetomb of Richard Beauchamp, under whose will the chapel was begun in1443; Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, the haughty favourite of QueenElizabeth, was also entombed here. We had too much to do to-day to stayvery long in any place we visited, but we were interested in the remainsof a ducking-stool in the crypt of the church, although it was far frombeing complete, the only perfect one of which we knew being that in thePriory Church of Leominster, which reposed in a disused aisle of thechurch, the property of the Corporation of that town. It was describedas "an engine of universal punishment for common scolds, and forbutchers, bakers, brewers, apothecaries, and all who give short measure, or vended adulterated articles of food, " and was last used in 1809, whena scolding wife named Jenny Pipes was ducked in a deep place in one ofthe small rivers which flowed through that town. The following lines, printed on a large card, appeared hanging from one of the pillars in theaisle near the stool:

[Illustration: TOMBS IN THE BEAUCHAMP CHAPEL. ]

[Illustration: THE DUCKING-STOOL, WARWICK. ]

 There stands, my friend, in yonder pool, An engine called a Ducking Stool; By legal power commanded down, The joy, and terror of the town. If jarring females kindle strife, Give language foul, or lug the coif: If noisy dames should once begin To drive the house with horrid din, Away! you cry, you'll grace the stool We'll teach you how your tongue to rule. Down in the deep the stool descends, But here, at first, we miss our ends, She mounts again, and rages more Than ever vixen did before. If so, my friend, pray let her take A second turn into the lake; And rather than your patience lose Thrice and again, repeat the dose, No brawling wives, no furious wenches No fire so hot, but water quenches. 

[Illustration: THE DUCKING-STOOL, LEOMINSTER]

The stool was exactly like a chair without legs, fastened on one end ofa long pole, in the centre of which was a framework with solid woodenwheels. The culprit was fastened in the chair with her face towards themen, who were at the other end of the pole, and who had to push andguide the machine through the narrow streets of the town until theyreached the "deep hole, " where the unfortunate woman had to be duckedoverhead in the river. Her feet were securely tied to the top of thepole to prevent them from being hurt when passing through the town, andto hinder her from using them to keep her head above the water. The poetdescribes the "engine called a ducking-stool" as the "joy and terror ofthe town, " but the "joy" could only have been that of the men, women, and children who could be spared to see the show, and knew the woman'sscolding propensities. If she continued scolding after the first "duck, "down she went again, and again, until, as we imagined, half filled withwater, she was unable to scold further, and so the water triumphed inthe end:

 No brawling wives, no furious wenches No fire so hot, but water quenches. 

The tower of St. Mary's Church was built on four lofty arches, one ofwhich formed the entrance to the church while the other three formedentrances to the street, the footpath passing through two of them. 

[Illustration: LORD LEICESTER'S HOSPITAL AND GATE. ]

We passed alongside the ancient and picturesque half-timbered buildingknown as Lord Leicester's Hospital, which was one of the few buildingsin the town that escaped the fire in 1694. It had been built by RobertDudley, Earl of Leicester, the favourite of Queen Elizabeth and ofKenilworth fame, to accommodate twelve poor men or brethren besides themaster, who, according to Dugdale the famous antiquary, "were to beclothed in blew cloth, with a ragged staff embroydered on the leftsleeve, " and not to go into the town without them. The hospital datedfrom 1571, but what was formerly the banqueting-hall belonged to anearlier period, and owed its preservation largely to the fact that thetimber of which the roof had been constructed was Spanish chestnut, atimber which grew luxuriantly in the forests of England, and resembledEnglish oak. It was largely used by the monks in the building of theirrefectories, as no worm or moth would go near it and no spider's web wasever woven there, the wood being poisonous to insects. It is lighter incolour than oak, and, seeing the beams so clean-looking, with theappearance of having been erected in modern times, it is difficult forthe visitor to realise that they have been in their present positionperhaps for five or six centuries. Over one of the arched doorways inthe old hospital appeared the insignia of the bear and the ragged staff, which was also the sign of public houses, notably that at Cumnor, thevillage of Amy Robsart. This we discovered to be the arms of the Earlsof Warwick, originating during the time of the first two earls: thefirst being Arth or Arthgal of the Round Table--Arth meaning bear--andthe second Morvid, who in single combat overcame a mighty giant whocame against him with a club--a tree pulled up by the roots and strippedof its branches; and in remembrance of his victory over the giant the"ragged staff" ever afterwards appeared on the coat of arms of the Earlsof Warwick. 

[Illustration: CÆSAR'S TOWER, WARWICK CASTLE. ]

At the end of the hospital stood St. James's Chapel, built over the WestGate of the town, which we left by the footpath leading both under thechurch and its tower, on our way to Stratford-on-Avon. 

[Illustration: SHAKESPEARE'S HOUSE (Before Restoration). ]

We walked the eight miles which separated the two towns at a quickspeed, and, leaving our luggage at the "Golden Lion Inn" at the entranceto Stratford, we went to explore that town, and soon arrived at thebirthplace of Shakespeare, one of the few houses in England where nofire is ever lit or candle lighted. It was a very old-fashioned housebuilt with strong oak beams, the ceiling of the room in whichShakespeare was born in 1564 being so low that visitors could easilyreach it, and they had written their names both on it and the wallsuntil there was scarcely an available space left. Written with leadpencil, some of the autographs were those of men distinguished in everyrank of life both past and present, and would doubtless have become veryvaluable if they had been written in a book, but we supposed Visitors'Books had not been thought of in those days. We wondered if the wallswould ever be whitewashed again, and this thought might have occurred toSir Walter Scott when he scratched his name with a diamond on one of thewindow panes. It was at another house in the town that Shakespeare wrotehis plays and planted a mulberry-tree in the garden. This mulberry-treeused to be one of the objects of interest at Stratford, nearly everypilgrim who arrived there going to see it. There came a time when thehouse and garden changed hands, and were sold to a clergyman namedGastrell, who we were sorry to learn was a countryman of ours, as hebelonged to Cheshire. He had married a "lady of means, " who resided atLichfield, and they bought this house and garden, we supposed, so thatthey might "live happily ever afterwards"; but the parson, who must havehad a very bad temper, was so annoyed at people continually calling tosee the mulberry-tree that he cut it down. It was probably owing to thiscircumstance that he had a furious quarrel with the Corporation ofStratford because they raised the rates on his property. When hecomplained that they were excessive and the surveyor insisted on theirbeing paid, Gastrell ended the matter by pulling the house down to theground, and leaving the neighbourhood, so we supposed it was then a caseof--

 Where he's gone and how he fares Nobody knows and nobody cares. 

Eventually the site became a public garden, where a slip of themulberry-tree may still be seen. 

[Illustration: SHAKESPEARE'S TOMB, STRATFORD-ON-AVON. ]

Shakespeare died in 1616, and was buried in the church at Stratford, where on the ancient stone that covered his remains were inscribed inold English characters the well-known words:

 Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear To dig the dust enclosed here, Blest be the man that spares these stones, And curst be he that moves my bones. 

Shakespeare's threatened curse was doubtless one reason why his boneshad remained undisturbed, for it was no uncommon occurrence in his timefor the bones of the dead to be removed from a tomb and to be replacedor mingled with those of a stranger, for even the tomb of his daughter, who died in 1649, shared that fate, her epitaph being effaced andreplaced by another of a person in no way related to the Shakespearefamily, but who was buried in the same grave. 

In one corner of the church was a tomb bearing the effigy of JohnO'Combe, who we thought might have hailed from the neighbourhood of theold abbey of that name which we passed the night before. In spite of hisbenefactions recorded in the church, he was looked upon as a usurer, because he charged 10 per cent, for his money. He was at one time afriend of Shakespeare, and often asked the poet, who was no doubtacquainted with his rate of interest, to write him an epitaph. When atlength he acceded to his request he greatly offended Combe by writing:

 "Ten in the hundred" lies here en-graved, 'Tis a hundred to ten if his soul be saved. If any one asks who lies in his tomb-- "Oho" quoth the devil "'tis my John O'Combe. "

Shakespeare bought the house in which he wrote his plays from theClopton family, calling it "New Place, " and a sorrowful story wasconnected with the Clopton vault in Stratford Church. Sir Hugh Clopton, who was buried there, was Lord Mayor of London in 1492, and had a verybeautiful young daughter named Charlotte, who, according to herportrait, which was still in existence, had light blue eyes and palegolden hair. In the time when a plague was raging in Stratford she wassaid to have been found sitting in a chair in the garden apparentlydead, and was at once carried to the vault to be buried. A few daysafterwards another member of the family died of the plague, and was alsotaken to the vault; but when the torch-bearers descended the stepsleading into the vault, the light from their torches revealed the formof Charlotte Clopton leaning against the side of the tomb. They werestricken with horror, but had arrived too late to save her, as she wasnow quite dead. The poor girl must have been in a trance when theycarried her to the vault, and in her agony of hunger had bitten a pieceof flesh from her own shoulder!

We found the "Golden Lion" quite a comfortable hotel, and had afirst-class tea there in the company of an actor from London, who, likeourselves, was exploring the country hereabouts, though perhaps from adifferent point of view, and who had a lot to tell us about Shakespeareand his plays. He had been to a village named Bidford a few miles awaywhere there was an old-fashioned inn, in the courtyard of whichShakespeare and his friends had acted his _Midsummer's Night Dream_ longbefore it appeared in London. It was at that inn that Shakespeare onone occasion had too much to drink, and when on his way home toStratford he lay down under a thorn tree to sleep off the effects; thetree was fenced round later on in memory of that rather ingloriousevent. Although we were temperance men, we had to admit that the oldinns where the stage-coaches stopped to exchange passengers and horseshad a great attraction for us, and it was not without a feeling ofregret that we found them being gradually closed throughout the countrywe passed through. They had mostly been built after the same model, thegateway or door at the entrance being arched over and placed in thecentre of the front of the hotel. Through this archway the coaches, withpassengers and luggage, could pass in and out, a door on each side ofthe entrance leading into different sections of the inn. The yards ofthe inns were in the form of an oblong, generally roofed over, and alongeach side were the out-offices, storerooms, and stables, with a flatroof overhead, extending backwards as far as the bedroom doors, andforming a convenient platform for passengers' luggage as it was handedon and off the roof of the coach. The outside edge of the platform wassometimes ornamented with a low palisade, which gave the interior of thecovered yard quite a pleasant and ornamental appearance. 

[Illustration]

Such was the character of the inns that existed in the time ofShakespeare, and although sanitary regulations in later times requiredthe horses to be provided for in stable-yards farther in the rear, verylittle structural alteration in the form of the inns had taken place. 

The actor told us that in Shakespeare's time nearly all the actingoutside London and much within was done in the courtyards of these inns. The actors travelled in two covered wagons or coaches, and when theyarrived at the inn they were drawn into the inn yard, while two membersof the party went out into the town or village vigorously beating a drumto announce the arrival of the actors, almost the entire residentpopulation, men, women, and children, following them to the inn yard tolisten to the play, which custom, he said, was referred to byShakespeare in one of his plays in the passage:

 The Actors have come and the rout are following!

The covers were then taken off the top of the wagons and placed roundthe sides of the wheels, to act as screens while the actors changedtheir dresses, which had to be done underneath the coaches. Meanwhileboards, kept at the inns specially for that purpose, were fastened overthe tops of the wagons, and on these the actors performed their plays. The squire, or lord of the manor, had the right to see the plays free ofcharge, and when he came, a bar of wood was placed across the entranceto one of the horse-boxes to keep off the spectators who thronged theinn yard. From these people the actors collected what money they could, while those who were better able to pay were accommodated on theplatform above the stables, which commanded a better view of the play. 

When theatres were built, he informed us, they were modelled in the sameshape as the yards of these inns, their arrangement being also the same:the stage represented the boards on the wagons and the actors dressedunderneath it, the pit corresponded to the inn yard, the gallery to theplatform over the stables, the boxes to the place railed off for thesquire. The actor was not sure about the stalls, and thought these wereinstituted at a later period; but we reminded him that stalls were anecessary adjunct to stables. 

[Illustration: STRATFORD-ON-AVON CHURCH. ]

He also told us that the actors had a language peculiar to theirprofession, which also dated from the time when they acted in thecountry inn yards, for even when they travelled by train they werealways "on the road, " and when acting in the theatre they were still "onthe boards. "

We asked him if he knew about Shakespeare's stealing the deer fromCharlecote Park, Sir Thomas Lucy's property, and he said he did; but thereport was not quite correct, for at that time the park was surroundedby Common Land, and it was there that Shakespeare shot the deer, whichonly went into the park to die. Shakespeare followed it, and as he wasremoving the carcase he was caught and summoned; the case hinged onwhether he had his weapon with him or not. As that could not be provedagainst him, the case was dismissed. It appears that the Law of Englandis the same on that point to-day as in the time of Shakespeare, for if aman shoots a hare on his own land, and it dies on adjoining landbelonging to some one else, he has a perfect right to remove it, providing he does not take his gun with him, which would constitute apunishable offence. We were sorry to leave the hotel, as we should havebeen very comfortable there, and the actor, who wanted to hear of ouradventures, did his best to persuade us to stay; but our average must bemade up, and I particularly wanted to celebrate my birthday on thefollowing Sunday at Oxford. 

It was quite dark as we crossed the river bridge on our way to Kineton, ten miles distant, and we soon lost sight of the lights of Stratford; aswe left we could see the church being lit up for evening service. A manon the bridge in directing us the way to Kineton told us we should passthe park where "old Shakespeare stole the deer, " and he seemed to thinkhe was a regular poacher there. We could not see the deer, but we heardthem as we passed alongside the park, the noise resembling that of apig, but not nearly so loud. We soon afterwards arrived at a fair-sizedvillage about half-way between Stratford and Kineton, where we recrossedthe river and, turning towards the right, walked along a lonely road foran hour or two, until we reached Kineton, where we intended to stay thenight. We were, however, doomed to disappointment, for, as the railwaywas being cut through there, the whole place was completely filled withengineers and navvies, who had taken up all the accommodation. There wasnot even a chair "to be let, " so we were obliged to move on in the hopethat we might come to some house or village on the road where we couldobtain lodgings for the night. We had already walked thirty miles andwere sleepy and tired and could not walk quickly enough to keepourselves warm, for the night was damp with fog and very cold, and ourquick walk had caused us to perspire, so that we were now in what mightbe termed a cold sweat, a danger to which we were often exposed duringthese later stages of our long journey. Fortunately for us, however, thecuttings from the sides of the hedges and ditches, which extended formiles, had been tied in neat little bundles, possibly for sale, anddeposited on the sides of the road, and every now and then we set fireto one of these and stayed a few minutes to warm ourselves, expectingevery moment to attract the attention of a policeman, and get ourselvesinto trouble, but none appeared. The last quarter of the moon was nowdue, and although we could not see it through the misty clouds overhead, it lighted up the air considerably when it rose, so that we could thensee the fields on either side of the road, especially when we came to anupward gradient. We gradually became conscious of what appeared to be agreat black cloud in front of us as we climbed up the road, and wereastonished when we perceived that instead of a cloud it was a tremendoushill, towards which our road was leading us. We had been walking fordays through a level country, and did not expect to come to a hill likethis, and this strange and sudden development sharpened us up a little, for we had only been walking at about the rate, including stoppages, ofone mile per hour, so we walked steadily up the hill, and presently camein sight of some large trees, from which we knew that we wereapproaching civilisation; we had not seen a single habitation or aliving being of any kind since leaving Kineton. On the other side of afield to the left of our road we could see a rustic-looking shed whichwe resolved to visit, so, climbing over the fence, we walked cautiouslytowards it, and found it was an ancient store-shed for hay and straw. Welistened attentively for a few moments and, as there was no wind, wecould have heard the breathing of a man or of any large animal thatmight have been sleeping there; but as all appeared quiet, we sat downon the dry straw thankful to be able to rest our weary limbs if only fora short time. 

We had some difficulty in keeping ourselves awake, but we durst not goto sleep as the night was so very cold, and there was a rough floorimmediately above us which had caused us some uneasiness. When we heardthe footsteps of some small animal creeping stealthily amongst the strawover our heads, as if preparing to make a spring, we decided to evacuateour rather eerie position. It might have been a rat or more likely acat, but as we did not care for the company of either of these animals, we lost no time in regaining the road. 

As we approached the top of the hill we came to some quaint-lookinghouses, which appeared much too large for their occupiers to take invisitors at that early hour of the morning, especially two tramps likeourselves. We were almost sure that one of the houses was an inn, as ithad a sign on the wall, though too high up for us to read in the dark. Presently we passed what appeared to be an old castle. 

We could now only walk very slowly, or at a speed that my musicalbrother described as about equivalent to the "Dead March in Saul, " andat seven o'clock in the morning reached the entrance to the town ofBanbury, exciting considerable curiosity among the men we met on the wayto their work in the country. 

We called at the first respectable-looking inn that we came to, wherethe mistress informed us we could not have two beds, "as the otherpeople hadn't got up yet, " but a gentleman who had to leave early wasjust getting up now, and we "could have his bed if we liked. " We wereglad to accept the offer lest in going farther we might fare worse. Wecould hear the gentleman's heavy footsteps on the floor above our heads, and as soon as the room was prepared we got into the bed he had vacated, which was still quite warm, extremely thankful to get in anywhere, andin spite of the noises usual in inns on Saturday morning we "slept likebricks" until eleven o'clock, the hour arranged for our "call. "

(_Distance walked forty-two and a half miles_. )

_Saturday, November 4th. _

[Illustration: EDGE HILL. ]

We were quite surprised to find that the night before we had beenwalking along the site of one of the most famous battles--because it wasthe first--in the Great Civil War of the seventeenth century, namedafter the strange hill we had walked over, and known to history as the"Battle of Edge Hill. " We learned that had we crossed it on a fine clearday instead of in the dark we should have obtained a splendid view overthe shires of Warwick, Gloucester, and Worcester, and portions of othercounties besides. The hill itself stood in Warwickshire, but we hadcrossed the boundary into Oxfordshire on our way to Banbury some time inthe early hours of the morning. The Royalist Army, under King Charles I, had encamped a few miles from Banbury, when Prince Rupert sent the kingword that the army of the Parliament, under the command of the Earl ofEssex, had arrived at Kineton. The king's army had left Shrewsbury twodays before Essex's army departed from Worcester, and, strange as itmight appear, although they were only about twenty miles away from eachother at the start, they travelled almost side by side for ten dayswithout either army knowing the whereabouts of the other. The distancebetween them was only six miles when the news reached the king, who, although the day was then far advanced, resolved to give battle atonce. The Earl of Lindsey, who had acquired his military experiencefighting in the Low Countries, was General of the king's army, while theking's nephew, Prince Rupert, the finest cavalry officer of his day, commanded the Horse, Sir Jacob Astley the Foot, Sir Arthur Aston theDragoons, Sir John Heyden the Artillery, and Lord Bernard a troop ofGuards. The estates and revenues of this single troop were estimated tobe at least equal to those of all the members who, at the commencementof the war, voted in both Houses of Parliament; so if money could havewon the battle, the king's army ought to have been victorious; the king, moreover, had the advantage of a strong position, as his army was wellplaced under the summit of the hill. The battle was fought on Sunday, October 23rd, 1643, and resulted in a draw, and, though the armies stoodfacing each other the next day, neither of them had the heart to takethe initiative or to fight again, for, as usual in such warfare, brotherhad been fighting against brother and father against son; so Essexretired to Warwick and the king to Oxford, the only town on whoseloyalty he could depend. But to return to the battle! The prayer of SirJacob Astley, the Commander of the king's foot soldiers, has beenrecorded as if it were one of the chief incidents on that unhappy day, and it was certainly admirable and remarkable, for he said, "O Lord!Thou knowest how busy I must be this day. If I forget Thee, do not Thouforget me!" and then in place of the usual "Amen" he called out "Marchon, boys!" Prince Rupert, with his dashing and furious charge, soon putEssex's cavalry to flight, pursuing them for miles, while the right wingwas also driven back; but when the king's reserve, commanded by Sir JohnByron, saw the flight of both wings of Essex's army, they made sure thatthe battle was won, and, becoming anxious for some share in the victory, joined the others in their chase. Sir William Balfour, however, whocommanded Essex's reserve, seeing the advantage this afforded him, wheeled about upon the Royal Infantry, now left without horse, anddashed in amongst them, slaying right and left. Lindsay fell mortallywounded, and was taken prisoner, and his son in trying to save himshared the same fate, while the Royal Standard Bearer, Sir EdmundVerney, was slain and the standard taken; but this was afterwardsrecovered. When Rupert returned from his reckless chase, it looked morelike a defeat than a victory. Both armies had suffered severely, andwhen Mr. Fisher, the Vicar of Kineton, was commissioned by Lord Essex tonumber those killed on the side of the Parliament, he estimated them ata little over 1, 300 men, all of whom were buried in two large pits onland belonging to what was afterwards known as Battle Farm, theburial-places being known as the Grave Fields. As these were abouthalf-way between Radway and Kineton, we were quite near them when wewere lighting the fires on the sides of the road the night before, andthis may have accounted for the dreary loneliness of the road, as no onewould be likely to live on or near the fields of the dead if he couldfind any more desirable place. It was at the village of Radway wheretradition stated the king and his sons breakfasted at a cottage in whichfor many years afterwards the old table was shown to visitors on whichtheir breakfast stood, and it was on the hill near there where theboy-princes, Charles and James, narrowly escaped being captured as theywere watching the battle that was being fought on the fields below. 

We were in no hurry to leave Banbury, for we had not recovered from theeffects of our long walk of the previous day and night, and were moreinclined to saunter about the town than to push on. It is astonishinghow early remembrances cling to us in after life: we verily believed wehad come to Banbury purposely to visit its famous Cross, immortalised inthe nursery rhyme:

 Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross, To see a fine lady get on a white horse; She's rings on her fingers and bells on her toes. And she shall have music wherever she goes. 

[Illustration: BANBURY CROSS. ]

The rhyme must, like many others, have been of great antiquity, for theold Cross of Banbury had been removed by the Puritans in the year 1602, and its place taken by a much finer one, recently erected to commemoratethe marriage of the Emperor Frederick of Germany to the Princess Royalof England. The fine lady and the white horse were also not to be found, but we heard that the former was supposed to have been a witch, known asthe Witch of Banbury, while the white horse might have been an emblem ofthe Saxons or have had some connection with the great white horse whosegigantic figure we afterwards saw cut out in the green turf that coveredthe white chalk cliffs of the Berkshire Downs. The nursery rhymeincidentally recorded the fact that the steps at the base of the Crossat Banbury were formerly used as a convenience to people in mounting onthe backs of their horses, and reminded us of the many isolated flightsof three or four stone steps we had seen on our travels, chiefly nearchurches and public-houses and corners of streets, which had been usedfor the same purpose, and pointed back to those remote times when peoplerode on horseback across fields and swampy moors and along thepack-horse roads so common in the country long before wheeled vehiclescame into common use. 

We had eaten Eccles cakes in Lancashire, and Shrewsbury cakes inShropshire, and had walked through Scotland, which Robbie Burns haddescribed as--

 The Land o' Cakes and brither Scots, but we had never heard of Banbury cakes until we walked through thestreets of that town, and found that the making of these cakes formedone of its leading industries. The cakes in Scotland were of a sterner, plainer character than those farther south, the cakes at Banbury beingdescribed as a mixture between a tart and a mince-pie. We purchasedsome, and found them uncommonly good, so we stowed a few in our bags foruse on our way towards Oxford. This industry in Banbury is a very oldone, for the cakes are known to have been made there as far back as1602, when the old Cross was pulled down, and are mentioned by BenJonson, a great dramatist, and the friend of Shakespeare. He was PoetLaureate from 1619, and had the honour of being buried in WestminsterAbbey. In his comedy _Bartholomew Fair_, published in 1614, he mentionsthat a Banbury baker, whom he facetiously named Mr. "Zeal-of-the-LordBusy, " had given up the making of these cakes "because they were servedat bridals and other profane feasts. " This baker, we imagined, must havebeen a Puritan, for from the reign of Queen Elizabeth to that of CharlesII Banbury had been noted for the large number of Puritans who livedthere, and for their religious zeal; they had even been accused ofaltering the names of the staple industries of the town from "Cakes andAle" to "Cakes and Zeal, " and were unpopular in some quarters, forBraithwaite in his _Drunken Barnaby_ cuts at them rather savagely:

 To Banbury came I, O profane one: Where I saw a Puritane one Hanging of his cat on Monday For killing of a mouse on Sunday. 

[Illustration: THE PURITAN. ]

The Academy at Banbury was famous as the place where Dean Swift beganto write his famous satire entitled _Travels of Lemuel Gulliver_, thereading of which had been one of the pleasures of our schoolboy days. Hewas said to have copied the name from a tombstone in the churchyard. 

There were several charming old gabled houses in the town, and in "YeOlde Reindeere Inn" was a beautiful room called the "Globe, " a namegiven it from a globular chandelier which once stood near the entrance. This room was panelled in oak now black with age, and lighted by a loftymullioned window extending right across the front, while the plasteredceiling was considered to be one of the finest in the county of Oxford. In the High Street stood a very fine old house with, three gableserected about the year 1600, on which was placed an old sun-dial thatimmediately attracted our attention, for inscribed on it appeared theLatin words, "Aspice et abi" ("Look and Go"), which we considered as ahint to ourselves, and as the Old Castle had been utterly demolishedafter the Civil War, and the fine old Parish Church, "more like acathedral than a church, " blown up with gunpowder in 1740 "to save theexpense of restoring it, " we had no excuse for staying here any longer, and quickly left the town on our way to Oxford. 

[Illustration: THE REINDEER INN, BANBURY. (Outside the Globe Room. )]

The Latin motto "Look and Go" reminded my brother of an old timber-builtmansion in Staffordshire which, as it stood near a road, everybodystayed to admire, its architectural proportions being so beautiful. Itwas said that when the fugitive King Charles was in hiding there he wasgreatly alarmed at seeing a man on the road staring stedfastly at thehouse, and as he remained thus for a considerable period, the king atlast exclaimed impatiently, "Go, knave, what lookest at!" Long after theking had departed the owner of the house caused his words to be carvedin large characters along a great beam extending in front of themansion, which travellers in the present day still stay to admire, though many take the words as being meant for themselves, and move on aswe did at Banbury, but perhaps more slowly and reluctantly. 

We had the valley of the River Cherwell to our left, and at Deddingtonwe saw the site of the old castle from which Piers Gaveston, the unluckyfavourite of Edward II, was taken by the Earl of Warwick. He hadsurrendered to "Joseph the Jew, " the Earl of Pembroke, at Scarboroughon condition that the barons spared his life, but Warwick said he neveragreed to that, and as Gaveston had greatly offended him by nicknaminghim the "Black Hound" or the "Black Dog, " he took him to Warwick Castleand wreaked his venegance upon him by cutting off his head. 

By what we called a "forced march" we arrived at the grounds of thefamous Palace of Woodstock, and were lucky in meeting with a woodman whotook us across the park, where we had a fine view of the monument, thelake, and the magnificent Palace of Blenheim. 

[Illustration: BLENHEIM PALACE. ]

Woodstock is a place full of history and in a delightful position, withwoods still surrounding it as in the days of yore, when it was the abodeof kings and a royal residence. A witenagemot, or supreme council, washeld here by King Ethelred in the year 866, and Alfred the Great pursuedhis literary work here by translating the _Consolations of Boethius_, and in the grounds he had a deer-fold. In Domesday Book it is describedas a royal forest, and Henry I had an enclosure made in the park forlions and other wild beasts, which he surrounded by a very high wall, inwhich menagerie he placed the first porcupine ever seen in England, presented to him by William de Montpellier. The country people at thattime imagined that the quills of the porcupine were weapons which theanimal could shoot at those who hunted it. Henry II resided at thepalace with the lady of his love, the Fair Rosamond. She was the seconddaughter of Walter, Lord de Clifford, who built his castle on a cliffoverlooking a ford on the River Wye at Clifford in Herefordshire, andhis daughter Rosa-mundi (the rose of the world) was born there. She hada local lover whom she discarded when Prince Henry appeared on thescene, and finally Henry took her away to Woodstock, where he builtmagnificent apartments for her and her children, the entrance to whichwas through an intricate maze in the castle grounds. The rear of thebuildings adjoined the park, so that Rosamond and her children couldpass out at the back into the park and woods without being perceivedfrom the castle. Queen Eleanor was naturally jealous when she heard thatshe had been superseded in the king's affections, and it was said shetried all available means to discover the whereabouts of the FairRosamond, but without success, until she contrived to fasten a thread ofsilk to one of the king's spurs, which she afterwards followed in themaze in the castle grounds to the point where it had broken off at thesecret entrance. She waited for her opportunity, and when the king wasaway she had the trap-door forced open, and, taking a large bowl ofpoison in one hand and a sharp dagger in the other, found Rosamond neara well in the park and commanded her to end her life either with one orthe other. Rosamond took the poison, "and soe shee dyed, " and the wellever since has been known as Fair Rosamond's Well; we afterwards foundanother well of the same name in Shropshire. She had two sons, one ofwhom became the Earl of Salisbury and the other Archbishop of York; anold ballad runs:--

 But nothing could this furious queen Therewith appeased bee: The cup of deadlye poyson strong. As she knelt on her knee, She gave this comlye dame to drink, Who took it in her hand; And from her bended knee arose And on her feet did stand. 

 And casting up her eyes to heaven, She did for mercy calle; And drinking up the poyson strong. Her life she lost with-alle. 

Edward III and his Queen Phillipa resided at Woodstock in the fourteenthcentury, and it was here that the Black Prince, who figured so largelyin English history, was born. A nice little love story was connectedwith their court. The king had a page and the queen had a damsel, whofell deeply in love with each other, and whenever they got a chancewalked out in the beautiful park and woods which surrounded the castle, where the young man made some poetry about the "Cuckoo and Nightingale, "whose notes they so often heard amongst the sylvan beauties ofWoodstock. The king was pleased with the poetry, and the young pagebecame quite a favourite with him. He afterwards became known as the"Father of English Poetry. " His name was Chaucer, and he achievedimmortality by his "Canterbury Tales. " He was not only successful in hisown love affairs, but assisted John o' Gaunt with his, and wasinstrumental in obtaining for him the hand of Blanche of Lancaster, whohad inherited from her father, the Duke of Lancaster, an enormousfortune, of which Kenilworth formed a part. Chaucer wrote anallegorical history of that love story in his poem entitled "Chaucer'sDream, " and John o' Gaunt being a true friend, as was shown by hisprotection of his friend John Wiclif, the great reformer, Chaucer had noreason to regret the services he had rendered, for his fortunes rosewith those of John o' Gaunt, whose great power and wealth dated from themarriage. Chaucer described Woodstock Park as being walled round withgreen stone, and it was said to have been the first walled park inEngland. Richard III held a tournament in it at Christmas 1389, at whichthe young Earl of Pembroke was accidentally killed. Henry VII madeadditions to the palace, and built the front gate-house in which hisgranddaughter Elizabeth, afterwards Queen of England, was imprisoned bycommand of her sister Mary, when she wrote with charcoal on one of thewindow shutters:

 Oh, Fortune, how thy restless wavering state, Hath fraught with cares my troubled witt. Witness this present prysoner, whither Fate Could bear me, and the joys I quitt; Thou causeth the guiltie to be loosed From bonds wherein an innocent's inclosed, Causing the guiltless to be straite reserved, And freeing those that Death hath well deserved; But by her malice can be nothing wroughte, So God send to my foes all they have thought. 

 A. D. 1555--Elizabeth, "Prisoner. "

In Cromwell's time Woodstock suffered severely, and the castle wasdefended for the king by a great warrior, Captain Samuel Fawcett, whowould have been buried beneath the ruins rather than surrender had notthe king ordered him to hand it over to the Parliament. 

The manor and park continued to be vested in the Crown until the time ofQueen Anne, who bestowed it on her famous general, the Duke ofMarlborough, as a reward for his numerous victories abroad, so that hemight have a home worthy of him. The nation voted the successful soldierhalf a million of money wherewith to build a magnificent palace to benamed after one of his greatest victories, and Blenheim was the result. 

We were astonished at the enormous size of the mansion, in which, weheard, many art treasures were stored, and the woodman told us that thewall that enclosed the mansion and the park was more than eleven mileslong. A lofty column, with a statue of the great duke on the top, in thegarb of a Roman warrior, had been erected in the park, the base of whichmonument was covered with inscriptions containing thousands of words, including more names of battles won than we had seen on any monumentpreviously. The Battle of Blenheim was fought in 1704, and forms thesubject of Southey's well-known poem in which he describes old Kasparsitting before his cottage door on a summer evening after his day's workwas done, while his grandchildren, little Wilhelmine and her brotherPeterkin, were playing on the green before him. The children had foundsomething in the stream hard by, and had brought it to Kaspar to explainto them what it was that they had found "that was so large and smoothand round. " We could almost imagine we could see old Kaspar taking itup in his hand and explaining to the children that it was the skull ofsome poor fellow amongst the thousands who had been slain in that greatbattle, and describing the misery that followed it, to teach them, andall mankind, the curse of war. 

[Illustration: MONUMENT TO THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. ]

Then followed the questions of the little children, often difficult toanswer as everybody knows, and which even puzzled, old Kaspar himself:

 "Now tell us all about the war, And what they killed each other for. "

 "It was the English, " Kaspar cried, "Who put the French to rout; But what they killed each other for I could not well make out. But everybody said, " quoth he, "That 'twas a famous victory. "

 "And everybody praised the Duke Who this great fight did win. " "But what good came of it at last?" Quoth little Peterkin:-- "Why, that I cannot tell, " said he, "But 'twas a famous victory. "

We found a very comfortable hotel at Woodstock where we got a splendidtea, and stayed some time, with an inward desire to stay longer; but wewanted to reach Oxford that night, and so walked on in the dark andarrived at the Temperance Hotel there at ten o'clock p. M. 

We had seen a few bonfires on our way, but when November 5th happened tofall on a Sunday, causing the ceremonies of the "glorious fifth" to becelebrated either a day sooner or a day later, the proceedingsinvariably fell flat and lost their éclat; but Oxford was notorious onGunpowder Day for a faction fight known as the Gown and the Town fight, which generally began in front of the church dedicated to St. Mary theVirgin, and on that day more heads were damaged in the city than on anyother day in the year, the fight always ending in a number of bothparties being taken care of for the night. But the custom was now dyingout, and as our entry into the city was on November 4th, probably thesefestivities had not taken place or we had arrived too late to witnessthem. 

(_Distance walked twenty miles_. )

[Illustration: MARTYRS' MEMORIAL, OXFORD. ]

_Sunday, November 5th. _

I was roused in good time this morning by my brother knocking at my doorand wishing me many happy returns of my birthday, consequently we wereable to go out in the town before breakfast and see how Oxford looked inthe daylight. As we walked through the principal streets we wereastonished at the number of towers and spires on the churches andcolleges, which appeared in every direction, and the number of trees andgardens which surrounded them. We saw the Martyrs' Memorial, which wemust have passed as we entered the city the previous night, an elaborateand ornate structure, fully seventy feet high, with a cross at thesummit. The monument had been erected at a cost of £5, 000, to the memoryof Bishops Ridley and Latimer, who were burnt to death near the spot, October 16th, 1555, and of Archbishop Cranmer, who followed them onMarch 21st, 1556; their statues in Caen stone filled three of theniches. The memorial was decorated after the manner of the EleanorCrosses erected by King Edward I in memory of his wife, the QueenEleanor, and the inscription on the base was as follows:

 _To the Glory of God and in grateful commemoration of His servants--Thomas Cranmer, Nicholas Ridley, Hugh Latimer, prelates of the Church of England; who near this spot yielded their bodies to be burned, bearing witness to the sacred truths which they had affirmed and maintained against the errors of the Church of Rome, and rejoicing that to them it was given not only to believe in Christ, but also to suffer for His sake. This monument was erected by public subscription in the year of our Lord God MDCCCXLI_. 

Ridley and Latimer were burned together on the slope of the city nearBalliol College, where stakes had been placed to receive them. On theday of their execution they were brought from their prison and compelledto listen to a sermon full of reproaches and uncharitable insinuationsfrom the preacher, Dr. Smith, who took his text from the thirteenthchapter of St. Paul's first Epistle to the Corinthians: "If I give mybody to be burned, and have not charity, it availeth me nothing. "

[Illustration: OXFORD'S TOWERS. "We were astonished at the number oftowers and spires on the churches and colleges which appeared in everydirection, and the number of trees and gardens which were around them. "]

Each of the bishops expressed a desire to reply to the sermon, butneither of them was allowed to do so, and they were led to the place ofexecution. Ridley was told that if he would recant, his life would bespared, but he replied, "So long as the breath is in my body I willnever deny my Lord Christ and His known truth. God's will be done inme. "

His companion, Latimer, before he removed his prison dress, looked likea withered and bent old man, but afterwards appeared quite changed, andstood upright, "as comely a father as one might lightly behold. " Hedistributed several small articles he had about him amongst his friendswho stood near him, and said, "Well, there is nothing hid but it shallbe opened"--a remark he had often made before--and then he prayed aloudto the Almighty, concluding with the words, "I beseech Thee, Lord God, take mercy on this realm of England, and deliver the same from all herenemies. "

[Illustration: THE BURNING OF RIDLEY AND LATIMER. ]

After embracing each other they were chained to the stakes, and thefaggots of wood piled around them, while a brother-in-law tied a bag ofgunpowder round Ridley's neck. As the fires were being lighted, thebrave old Latimer uttered these memorable words:

"Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man! We shall this daylight such a candle in England as I trust shall never be put out!"

He then received the flame in his hands, as if embracing it, and, stroking his face with it, died apparently without pain. 

Ridley lived longer, but when the powder exploded, he fell dead atLatimer's feet. Latimer had often prayed during his imprisonment that hemight shed his heart's blood for the truth, and that God would restoreHis gospel to England, and preserve the Lady Elizabeth. As his body wasconsumed, the bystanders were astonished at the quantity of blood thatgushed from his heart. His words proved to be prophetic, for the firesof the martyrs restored the light to their country, and spread likewildfire throughout the land, carrying all before them. How strong musthave been their belief when, with the offer of life held out to them, they elected to die for the faith "which is in Christ Jesus. "

Cranmer had signed a recantation and was brought to St. Mary's Church toproclaim his adhesion to the Roman faith, but instead of doing so, hecreated a great sensation by boldly repudiating all he had said infavour of Romish assumption. He said it was contrary to the truth; and"as for the Pope, " he continued. "I refuse him as anti-Christ. " A greatuproar followed. The preacher shouted, "Stop the heretic's mouth!" andCranmer was immediately led out to be burnt, suffering death on thatsame day, March 21, 1556. A portion of the stake to which he wasfastened and the band of iron which was placed round his waist werestill preserved at Oxford. 

Mary, who was Queen of England at that time, was a zealous RomanCatholic, and the Reformers were looked upon as heretics, and punishedaccordingly. So many of them were executed during her reign, that shebecame known to history as "Bloody Mary. " Her sister Elizabeth was knownto favour the Protestants, and as she would follow as Queen of England, her life was often in danger. It was for her preservation that Latimerso often prayed. Mary's reign was a short one, but Elizabeth was sparedto reign over England for the long period of forty-four years. Foxe's_Book of Martyrs_ describes the horrible sufferings of many of thesemartyrs, and, though an awful book to read, was one of the few booksextensively published in our early days, chained copies being placed inmany churches, some of which we saw on our journey. 

[Illustration: BEAUMONT PALACE IN 1832: THE BIRTHPLACE OF RICHARD I. ]

A small group of excited people were standing near the Martyrs'Memorial, and we passed several others in the city. On inquiry we wereinformed that the body of a murdered woman had been found during thenight, on the Banbury road. On hearing this news I must confess tofeeling some slight apprehension when I considered the strong primafacie case that could have been made against us: our travel-stainedappearance, faces bronzed almost to the colour of the red soil we hadwalked over, beards untrimmed and grown as nature intended them, clothesshowing signs of wear and tear, our heavy oaken sticks with wornferrules, and our suspicious and seedy-looking bags; our late arrivallast night, and, above all, the fact that we had entered the town by thevery road on which the murder had been committed! What if we werearrested on suspicion! I had been practically arrested under far lesssuspicious circumstances the previous year, when we were walking homefrom London. 

[Illustration: "THE HIGH, " WITH QUEEN'S COLLEGE. ]

Just before reaching Nottingham we saw a large concourse of people in anopen space some distance away from our road; out of curiosity we went tosee what was going on, and found it to be a cricket match justfinishing. Two men in the crowd to whom we spoke told us that greatinterest was being taken in the match, as a man named Grace was takingpart in the game. We waited till the end, and came along with the twomen towards the town. We had to cross the bridge over the River Trent, and my brother had already crossed when he found I was not following. Sohe turned back, and saw me talking to a policeman in the centre of thebridge. "What's the matter?" he shouted, and I replied, "He wants tolook in my bag. " My brother made use of some expression quite unusual tohim, and a regular war of words ensued between him and the officer; aswe declined to open the bag, he requested us to follow him to a smalltemporary police office that had been built on the side of the bridge. Meantime a crowd of men had collected and followed us to the station;every pane of glass in the office windows was occupied by the faces ofcurious observers. The officer quite lost his temper, saying that he hadhad men like us there before. We asked him to break the bag open, but hedeclined to do so, and made himself very disagreeable, which caused mybrother to remark afterwards that we ought to have thrown him over theparapet of the bridge into the river below, if only to cool his temper. It would have pleased us to stay and fight the matter out, but we had afriend meeting us at Buxton to accompany us on the last day's marchhome, and were obliged to give in on that account; so we opened the bag, and it was amusing to see the crestfallen appearance of the officer whenhe saw the contents, and his fiery temperature almost fell below zerowhen we told him we should report the matter to his chief. We heard inthe town that some of the squires on that side of Nottingham had beentroubled with poachers on their estates, and the police had orders toexamine all persons with suspicious-looking parcels coming into thetown by that road, whether by vehicles or on foot. About a fortnightbefore our adventure the same policeman had stopped a man who wascarrying a similar bag to mine, and found in it a complete set ofhousebreaker's tools. He had been complimented by the magistrates forhis smart capture, so possibly our reluctance to open the bag, and itssimilarity to that carried by the housebreaker, had confirmed him in hisopinion that he was about to make a similar capture. Another thought, however, that occurred to me was that the man I was walking with mightbe "known to the police, " as I noticed he disappeared in the crowdimmediately the officer approached. But be that as it may, we wrote tothe Chief Constable of Police at Nottingham soon after we reached home, who replied very civilly, and said he hoped we would not proceed withthe case further, as just then the police in that neighbourhood had verydifficult duties to perform, and so the matter ended. 

[Illustration: MERTON GARDENS. ]

But to return to Oxford. My brother only smiled at my fears, andremarked that being apprehended by the police would only be a smallmatter compared with being taken to prison and put on the treadmill, aposition in which he boasted of having once been placed. When hehappened to mention this to a tramp on the road, I was greatly amused tohear the tramp in a significant and confidential tone of voice quietlyask, "What was you in for?"

He was only a small boy at the time, and had gone with our father, whowas on the jury, to the county prison. Part of the jury's business inthe interval was to inspect the arrangements there, which of course werefound in applepie order. My brother was greatly impressed by his ownimportance when the man in livery at the head of the processionrepeatedly called to the crowd, "Make way for the Grand Jury!" He sawthe prisoners picking "oakum, " or untwisting old ropes that had beenused in boats, tearing the strands into loose hemp to be afterwards usedin caulking the seams between the wood planks on the decks and sides ofships, so as to make them water-tight; and as it was near the prisoners'dinner-time, he saw the food that had been prepared for their dinner ina great number of small tin cans with handles attached, each containingtwo or three small pieces of cooked meat, which he said smelled verysavoury. 

Finally they came to the treadmill, and as no prisoners were on it, some of the jury expressed a wish to try it; one of the jurymen seeingmy brother, who was the only child present, kindly took him on and heldhim by the hand. When all were in position the wheel was started slowly, and as one step went down they mounted the next, and so on up thestairs, but they never got to the top! The steps creaked under them asthe wheel turned slowly round, and a prison officer stood behind themwith a big stick, which he was careful not to use on any of the jurymen, though my brother heard him say he had to use it sometimes on theprisoners. As the wheel turned round it moved some kind of machinerywhich they could not see. 

[Illustration: GREAT TOM BELL, OXFORD. ]

But to return to Oxford again. We were not suspected of being concernedin the murder, nor did we venture to inquire whether the culprit hadbeen found, for fear that we might be suspected of being concerned inthe case; but if a police raid had been made on the Oxford TemperanceHotel--most unlikely thing to happen--we should have been able toproduce a good record for that day, at any rate, for we attended fourdifferent services in four different places of worship. The first was atChrist Church, whither we had been advised to go to listen to the choir, whose singing at that time was considered to be the best in Oxford. Certainly the musical part of the service was all that could be desired. There were more than twenty colleges at Oxford, and we had a busy day, for between the services we looked through the "Quads, " with their finegardens and beautiful lawns, hundreds of years old. In the services, every phase of religious thought in the Church of England seemed to berepresented--the High Church, the Low Church, and the Broad Church; andmany men in all vocations and professions in life had passed through thecolleges, while valuable possessions had been bequeathed to them fromtime to time, until Oxford had become a veritable storehouse of valuablebooks, pictures, and relics of all kinds, and much of the history of theBritish Empire seemed to have been made by men who had been educatedthere. It would have taken us quite a week to see Oxford as it ought tobe seen, but we had only this one day, and that a Sunday. 

[Illustration: TOM TOWER, WITH WOLSEY STATUE. ]

Christ Church, where we went to our first service, one of the finestbuildings in Oxford, was founded by the great Wolsey in the reign ofHenry VIII. It contains the statue and portrait of the Cardinal, and inthe Library his Cardinal's Hat, also his Prayer Book--one of its mostvalued possessions, beautifully illuminated and bound in crimson velvetset with pearls and dated 1599. The famous bell of Christ Church, knownas the "Great Tom, " weighing about 17, 000 lbs. , is tolled every night atfive minutes past nine o'clock--101 times, that being the originalnumber of the students at the college--and at its solemn sound most ofthe colleges and halls closed their gates. The students were formerlyall supposed to be housed at that hour, but the custom is not nowobserved--in fact, there was some doubt about it even in the time ofDean Aldrich, the author of the well-known catch, "Hark! the bonnyChrist Church bells, " published in 1673:

 Hark the bonny Christ Church Bells 1 2 3 4 5 6-- They sound so wondrous great, so woundy sweet As they trowl so merrily, merrily. Oh! the first and second bell. That every day at four and ten, cry, "Come, come, come, come to prayers!" And the verger troops before the Dean. Tinkle, tinkle, ting, goes the small bell at nine. To call the bearers home; But the devil a man Will leave his can Till he hears the mighty Tom. 

The great bell originally belonged to Oseney Abbey, and hung in thefine cupola over the entrance gate, named after it the "Great Tom Gate, "and had been tolled every night with one exception since May 29, 1684. 

The statue of Wolsey, which now stood over the gateway, was carved by anOxford man named Bird in the year 1719, at the expense of Trelawny, Bishop of Winchester, one of the seven bishops and hero of the famousballad--

 And shall Trelawny die?

At the time of the Restoration Dr. John Fell was appointedVice-Chancellor, and he not only made the examinations very severe, buthe made the examiners keep up to his standard, and was cordially hatedby some of the students on that account. An epigram made about him atthat time has been handed down to posterity:

 I do not like thee, Dr. Fell; The reason why I cannot tell; But this I know, and know full well, I do not like thee, Dr. Fell. 

William Penn, the Quaker, the famous founder of the Colony ofPennsylvania, "came up" to Christ Church in 1660, but was "sent down" in1660 for nonconformity. 

[Illustration: LEWIS CARROLL. ]

But we were more interested in a modern student there, C. L. Dodgson, whowas born in 1832 at Daresbury in Cheshire, where his father was rector, and quite near where we were born. There was a wood near his father'srectory where he, the future "Lewis Carroll, " rambled when a child, along with other children, and where it was thought he got the firstinspirations that matured in his famous book _The Adventures of Alice inWonderland_, which was published in 1865--one of the most delightfulbooks for children ever written. We were acquainted with a clergyman whotold us that it was the greatest pleasure of his life to have known"Lewis Carroll" at Oxford, and that Queen Victoria was so delighted withDodgson's book _Alice in Wonderland_, that she commanded him if ever hewrote another book to dedicate it to her. Lewis Carroll was at that timeengaged on a rather abstruse work on _Conic Sections_, which, whencompleted and published, duly appeared as "Dedicated by express commandto Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria. " The appearance of thisbook caused some surprise and amusement, as it was not known that theQueen was particularly interested in _Conic Sections_. No doubt HerMajesty anticipated, when she gave him the command personally, that hisnext book would be a companion to the immortal _Alice_. 

Our friend the vicar, who told us this story, rather surprised us whenhe said that Lewis Carroll did not like the sea, and had written a "SeaDirge, " which, when recited at parochial entertainments, generallybrought "down the house" at the conclusion of the ninth verse:

 A SEA DIRGE

 There are some things like a spider, a ghost. The income tax, the gout, an umbrella for three. That I hate, but the thing I hate the most, Is a thing they call the sea. 

 Pour some salt water over the floor. Ugly I'm sure you'll allow that to be, Suppose it extended a mile or more, That would be like the sea. 

 Beat a dog till it howls outright-- Cruel, but all very well for a spree; Suppose it did so day and night, That would be like the sea. 

 I had a vision of nursery maids, Tens of thousands passed by me, Each carrying children with wooden spades, And that was by the sea. 

 Who could have invented those spades of wood? Who was it that cut them out of the tree? None, I think, but an idiot could-- Or one who loved the sea. 

 It is pleasant and dreamy, no doubt to float With thoughts as boundless and souls as free, But suppose you are very unwell in the boat-- Then how do you like the sea?

 Would you like coffee with sand for dregs? A decided hint of salt in your tea? And a fishy taste in the very eggs? Then by all means choose the sea. 

 And if with such dainties to drink and eat You prefer not a vestige of grass or a tree, And a chronic condition of wet in your feet, Then--I recommend the sea. 

 There is an animal people avoid. Whence is derived the verb to flee, Where have you been by it most annoyed? In lodgings by the sea. 

 Once I met with a friend in the street, With wife and nurse and children three; Never again such a sight may I meet, As that party from the sea. 

 Their looks were sullen, their steps were slow, Convicted felons they seemed to be, -- "Are you going to prison, dear friend?"--"Oh no; We're returning from the sea!"

[Illustration: GUY FAWKES'S LANTERN. ]

Every college had some legend or story connected with it, and UniversityCollege claimed to have been founded by King Alfred the Great, but thisis considered a myth; King Alfred's jewel, however, a fine specimen ofSaxon work in gold and crystal, found in the Isle of Athelney, was stillpreserved in Oxford. Guy Fawkes's lantern and the sword given to HenryVIII as Defender of the Faith were amongst the curios in the BodleianLibrary, but afterwards transferred to the Ashmolean Museum, whichclaimed to be the earliest public collection of curiosities in England, the first contributions made to it having been given in 1682 by EliasAshmole, of whom we had heard when passing through Lichfield. In theeighteenth century there was a tutor named Scott who delivered a seriesof lectures on Ancient History, which were considered to be the finestever known, but he could never be induced to publish them. In one of hislectures he wished to explain that the Greeks had no chimneys to theirhouses, and created much amusement by explaining it in his scholarly androundabout fashion: "The Greeks had no convenience by which the volatileparts of fire could be conveyed into the open air. " This tutor was afriend of the great Dr. Johnson, and seemed to have been quite anoriginal character, for when his brother, John Scott, who was one of hisown pupils, came up for examination for his degree in Hebrew andHistory, the only questions he put to him were, "What is the Hebrew forskull?" to which John promptly replied "Golgotha, " and "Who foundedUniversity College?" to which his reply was "King Alfred!" Both thebrothers were very clever men, and the tutor developed into LordStowell, while the pupil was created Lord Eldon. 

[Illustration: THE QUADRANGLE, JESUS COLLEGE. ]

Jesus, the Welsh College, possessed an enormous silver punch-bowl, 5feet 2 inches in girth, which was presented in 1732 by the great SirWatkin Williams-Wynn, who was known as the King _in_ Wales. Over hisgreat kitchen mantelpiece there he had the words "Waste not, want not, "a motto which did not appear to apply to the punchbowl, for theconditions attached to it were that it was to become the property of himwho could span it with his arms and then drain the bowl empty after ithad been filled with strong punch. The first condition had been compliedwith, and the second no doubt had been often attempted, but no one hadyet appeared who had a head strong enough to drain the bowl withoutassistance, so it still remained the property of the College!

[Illustration: "MAY MORNING": THE CHOIR ON THE TOWER. ]

Magdalen College--or Maudlen, as they pronounced it at Oxford--as easilydistinguished from the others by its fine tower, rising to the height of145 feet, the building of which dates from the end of the fifteenthcentury. We took a greater interest in that college because the rectorof Grappenhall in Cheshire, where we were born, had been educated there. An ancient May-day custom is still observed by the college, called the"Magdalen Grace" or the "May Morning Hymn, " this very old custom havingbeen retained at Magdalen long after others disappeared. On May-daymorning the choristers ascend to the top of the great tower and enterthe portion railed off for them and other men who join in the singing, while the remainder of the space is reserved for members of theUniversity, and other privileged persons admitted by ticket. They waituntil the bell has sounded the last stroke of five o'clock, and thensing in Latin that fine old hymn to the Trinity, beginning with thewords:

 Te Deum patrem colimus. 

My brother, however, was sure our rector could never have sung thathymn, since in cases of emergency he always appealed to him to start thesinging in the Sunday school--for although a very worthy man in otherrespects, he was decidedly not musical. 

Among the great Magdalen men of the past are the names of CardinalWolsey, Cardinal Reginald Pole, Addison, Gibbon, Collins, Wilson, JohnHampden, and John Foxe, author of the _Book of Martyrs_. Theecclesiastical students included two cardinals, four archbishops, andabout forty bishops; and my brother would have added to the Roll ofHonour the name of our rector, the Rev. Thomas Greenall, as that of aman who conscientiously tried to do his duty and whom he held in lastingremembrance. 

[Illustration: AN OXFORDSHIRE FARM. ]

There was a kind of haze hanging over Oxford, which gave me theimpression that the atmosphere of the neighbourhood was rather damp, though my brother tried to persuade me it was the mist of antiquity; butwhen I found the rivers Thames (or Isis) and the Cherwell encircled thecity on three sides, and that its name was derived from a passage overwhich oxen could cross the water, and when I saw the stiff clay of thebrickfields, I was confirmed in my opinion. 

[Illustration: HINKSEY STREAM. ]

As early as the year 726 a prince named Didan settled at Oxford, and hiswife Saxfrida built a nunnery there for her daughter Frideswyde, so thatshe could "take the veil" in her own church. As she was considered the"flower of all these parts, " we could not understand why this wasnecessary, especially as she was sought in marriage by Algar, King ofLeicester, described as "a young and spritely prince, " and who was sopersistent that he would not accept her refusal, actually sending"ambassadors" to carry her away. These men, however, when theyapproached her were smitten with blindness; and when Frideswyde saw thatshe would not be safe in "her own church" nor able to remain in peacethere, she fled into the woods and hid herself in a place that had beenmade as a shelter for the swine. King Algar was greatly enraged, and, breathing out fire and sword, set out for Oxford. As he still pursuedher, he too was smitten with blindness; and she then returned, but didnot live long, as she died in 739. St. Frideswide's Chapel was said tohave been built over her shrine, around which Oxford, the "City of theSpires, " had extended to its present proportions. 

Oxford is also mentioned in A. D. 912 in the _Saxon Chronicle_, andRichard Coeur de Lion, the great Crusader, was born there in 1156, andoften made it his home. The city was besieged on three differentoccasions--by Sweyne, the King of Denmark, in 1013, by William theConqueror in 1067, and by Fairfax in 1646--for it was one of the King'sgreat strongholds. 

EIGHTH WEEK'S JOURNEY

_Monday, November 6th. _

We had been very comfortable at our hotel, where I had spent a verypleasant birthday at Oxford, and was sorry that we could not stayanother day. But the winter was within measurable distance, with itsshort days and long dark nights, and we could no longer rely upon themoon to lighten our way, for it had already reached its last quarter. Wetherefore left Oxford early in the morning by the Abingdon Road, andsoon reached the southern entrance to the city, where in former daysstood the famous tower from which Roger Bacon, who died in 1292, and whowas one of the great pioneers in science and philosophy, was said tohave studied the heavens; it was shown to visitors as "Friar Bacon'sstudy. "

[Illustration: FRIAR BACON'S STUDY, FOLLEY BRIDGE, OXFORD. ]

A strange story was told relating to that wonderful man, from which itappeared he had formed the acquaintance of a spirit, who told him thatif he could make a head of brass in one month, so that it could speakduring the next month, he would be able to surround England with a wallof brass, and thus protect his country from her enemies. Roger Bacon, onhearing this, at once set to work, and with the aid of anotherphilosopher and a demon the head was made; but as it was uncertain atwhat time during the next month it would speak, it was necessary towatch it. The two philosophers, therefore, watched it night and day forthree weeks, and then, getting tired, Bacon ordered his man Myles towatch, and waken him when it spoke. About half an hour after they hadretired the head spoke, and said, "Time is, " but Myles thought it wastoo early to tell his master, as he could not have had sleep enough. Inanother half-hour the head spoke again, and said, "Time was, " but aseverybody knew that, he still did not think fit to waken his master, andthen half an hour afterwards the head said, "Time is past, " and felldown with a tremendous crash that woke the philosophers: but it was nowtoo late! What happened afterwards, and what became of Myles, we did notknow. 

In the neighbouring village of North Hinksey, about a mile across themeadows, stands the Witches' Elm. Of the Haunted House beside which itstood hardly even a trace remained, its origin, like its legend, stretching so far back into the "mists of antiquity" that only theslenderest threads remained. Most of the villages were owned by themonks of Abingdon Abbey under a grant of the Saxon King Caedwalla, andconfirmed to them by Caenwulf and Edwig. The Haunted House, like theChurch of Cumnor, was built by the pious monks, and remained in theirpossession till the dissolution of the monastery, then passing into thehands of the Earls of Abingdon. 

[Illustration: THE WITCHES' ELM. ]

The last tenant of the old house was one Mark Scraggs, or Scroggs, asolitary miser who, the story goes, sold himself to the Devil, one ofthe features of the compact being that he should provide for the wantsof three wise women, or witches, who on their part were to assist him incarrying out his schemes and make them successful. In everything heseemed to prosper, and accumulated great hoards of wealth, but he hadnot a soul in the world to leave it to or to regret his leaving in spiteof his wealth. 

At length the time approached when his terrible master would claim himbody and soul, but Scraggs worked out a scheme for evading his bond, andfor a time successfully kept Satan at bay and disposed of the threewitches by imprisoning them in a hollow tree close by, on which he casta spell which prevented them from communicating with their master theevil one, or enabling him to find them. This spell was so successfulthat Scraggs soon felt himself secure, but one day, venturing beyond thecharmed circle, he was immediately seized by the Devil, who attempted tocarry him off by way of the chimney, but failed, as the shaft was notsufficiently wide for the passage of the man's body. In the struggle thechimney was twisted in the upper part, and remained so till its totaldestruction, while Satan, rinding he could not carry off his body, torehim asunder, and carried off his soul, dashing the mutilated remains ofthe miser upon the hearth beneath. The death of Scraggs dissolved thespell which bound the witches, and their release split the tree in whichthey were confined from the ground to the topmost branch. 

The great uproar of this Satanic struggle aroused the neighbourhood, andthe miser's body, when it was discovered, was buried beneath the wall ofthe church--neither inside nor outside the sacred edifice. Everafterwards the house was haunted by the apparition of old Scraggssearching for his lost soul with groans and hideous cries, until at lastthe old mansion was pulled down and its very stones were removed. 

The old shattered and knarled elm alone remained to keep alive thelegend of this evil compact. The story, improbable as it may appear, nodoubt contained, as most of these stories do, the element of fact. Possibly the old man was a miser who possessed wealth enough to becomethe source of envy by some interested relations. Perhaps he was brutallymurdered, perhaps, too, the night of the deed may have been wild withthunder and lightning raging in the sky. Probably the weird story, withall its improbable trappings, was circulated by some one who knew thetruth, but who was interested in concealing it. Who knows?

[Illlustration: HINKSEY, AN OXFORDSHIRE VILLAGE IN WHICH THE ROAD WASCONSTRUCTED BY RUSKIN AND A BAND OF OXFORD STUDENTS. ]

We were now passing through scenes and pastures, quiet fields and farms, of which many of Oxford's famous students and scholars had written andsung. Matthew Arnold had painted these fields and villages, hills andgliding, reedy streams in some of his poems, and they were the objectiveof many of his Rambles:

 Hills where Arnold wander'd and all sweet June meadows, from the troubling world withdrawn. 

Here too in one of these small hamlets through which we passed Ruskinwith a gang of his pupils in flannels started roadmaking, and for daysand weeks were to be seen at their arduous task of digging andexcavation, toiling and moiling with pick, spade, and barrow, whileRuskin stood by, applauding and encouraging them in their task of makingand beautifying the roads of these villages which he loved so well. 

[Illustration: THE SCENE OF THE DIGGING OPERATIONS. ]

This experiment was undertaken by Ruskin as a practical piece ofserviceable manual labour, for Ruskin taught in his lectures that theFine Arts required, as a necessary condition of their perfection, ahappy country life with manual labour as an equally necessary part of acompletely healthy and rounded human existence, and in this experimenthe practised what he preached. The experiment caused no little stir inOxford, and even the London newspapers had their gibe at the "AmateurNavvies of Oxford"; to walk over to Hinksey and laugh at the diggers wasa fashionable afternoon amusement. 

The "Hinksey diggings, " as they were humorously called, were taken upwith an enthusiasm which burned so fiercely that it soon expendeditself, and its last flickering embers were soon extinguished by theironic chaff and banter to which these gilded youths were subjected. 

The owner of the estate sent his surveyor to report the condition of theroad as they had left it, and it is said that in his report he wrote:"The young men have done no mischief to speak of. "

The River Thames, over which we now crossed, is known in Oxford as the"Isis, " the name of an Egyptian goddess--though in reality only anabbreviated form of the Latin name Tamesis. As the Thames here forms theboundary of Oxfordshire, we were in Berkshire immediately we crossed thebridge. We followed the course of the river until we reached Kennington, where it divides and encloses an island named the Rose Isle, a favouriteresort of boating parties from Oxford and elsewhere. It was quite alovely neighbourhood, and we had a nice walk through Bagley Woods, tothe pretty village of Sunningwell, where we again heard of Roger Bacon, for he occasionally used the church tower there for his astronomical andastrological observations. He must have been an enormously clever man, and on that account was known as an alchemist and a sorcerer; he wascredited with the invention of gunpowder, and the air-pump, and withbeing acquainted with the principle of the telescope. In the time ofQueen Mary, Dr. Jewel was the rector of Sunningwell, but had to vacateit to escape persecution; while in the time of the Civil War Dr. SamuelFell, then Dean of Christ Church, and father of John Fell, was rector. He died from shock in 1649 when told the news that his old master, KingCharles, had been executed. He was succeeded as Dean by John Fell, hisson. 

[Illustration: SUNNINGWELL CHURCH. ]

[Illustration: SUNNINGWELL, BISHOP JEWELL'S PORCH. ]

[Illustration: ABBEY GATE, ABINGDON, SHOWING ALL THAT NOW REMAINS OF THEABBEY. ]

We soon arrived at Abingdon, and were delighted with the view of thetown, with its church spire overlooking it as we approached to the sideof the Thames, which now appeared as a good-sized river. As we stopped aminute or two on the bridge, my brother got a distant view of somepleasure boats, and suggested we should stay there for the rest of theday, to explore the town, and row up and down the river! He hadevidently fallen in love with Abingdon, but I reminded him that ourtravelling orders were not to ride in any kind of conveyance during thewhole of our journey, and that, if we got drowned, we should never getto the Land's End, "besides, " I added, "we have not had our breakfast. "This finished him off altogether, and the pleasure-boat scheme vanishedimmediately we entered the portals of a fine old hostelry, where thesmell of bacon and eggs recalled him from his day dreams. We handed ourluggage to the boots to take care of, and walked into the coffee-room, where to our surprise we found breakfast set for two, and the waitressstanding beside it. When we told her how glad we were to find she hadanticipated our arrival, she said that the bacon and eggs on the tablewere not prepared for us, but for two other visitors who had not comedownstairs at the appointed time. She seemed rather vexed, as thebreakfast was getting cold, and said we had better sit down to it, andshe would order another lot to be got ready and run the risk. So webegan operations at once, but felt rather guilty on the appearance of alady and gentleman when very little of the bacon and eggs intended forthem remained. The waitress had, however, relieved the situation bysetting some empty crockery on another table. Having satisfied ourrequirements, we tipped the waitress handsomely while paying the bill, and vanished to explore the town. We were captivated with the appearanceof Abingdon, which had quite a different look from many of the towns wehad visited elsewhere; but perhaps our good opinion had been enhanced bythe substantial breakfast we had disposed of, and the splendid appetiteswhich enabled us to enjoy it. There were other good old-fashioned innsin the town, and a man named William Honey had at one time been thelandlord of one of the smaller ones, where he had adopted as his sign abee-hive, on which he had left the following record:

 Within this Hive we're all alive, Good Liquor makes us funny; If you are dry, step in and try The flavour of our Honey. 

The early history of Abingdon-on-Thames appeared, like others, to havebegun with that of a lady who built a nunnery. Cilia was the name ofthis particular lady, and afterwards Hean, her brother, built amonastery, or an abbey, the most substantial remains of which appearedto be the abbey gateway; but as the abbey had existed in one form oranother from the year 675 down to the time of Henry VIII, when it wasdissolved, in 1538, Abingdon must have been a place of considerableantiquity. St. Nicholas's Church was mentioned in documents connectedwith the abbey as early as 1189, and some of its windows contained oldstained glass formerly belonging to it, and said to represent the patronsaint of the church restoring to life some children who had beenmutilated and pickled by the devil. There was also a fine old tomb whichcontained the remains of John Blacknall and Jane his wife, who appearedto have died simultaneously, or, as recorded, "at one instant time atthe house within the site of the dissolved monastery of the BlessedVirgin Marie, of Abingdon, whereof he was owner. " The following was thecurious inscription on the tomb:

 Here rest in assurance of a joyful resurrection the Bodies of John Blacknall, Esquire, and his wife, who both of them finished an happy course upon earth and ended their days in peace on the 21st day of August in the year of our Lord 1625. He was a bountiful benefactor of this Church--gave many benevolencies to the poor--to the Glory of God--to the example of future ages:

 When once they liv'd on earth one bed did hold Their Bodies, which one minute turned to mould; Being dead, one Grave is trusted with the prize, Until that trump doth sound and all must rise; Here death's stroke even did not part this pair, But by this stroke they more united were; And what left they behind you plainly see, An only daughter, and their charitie. And though the first by death's command did leave us, The second we are sure will ne'er deceive us. 

This church, however, was very small compared with its larger neighbourdedicated to St. Helen, which claims to be one of the four churches inEngland possessing five aisles, probably accounting for the fact thatits breadth exceeded its length by about eleven feet. The oldest aisledates from the year 1182, and the church contains many fine brasses andtombs, including one dated 1571, of John Roysse, citizen and mercer ofLondon, who founded the Abingdon Grammar School. There is also a stonealtar-tomb in memory of Richard Curtaine, who died in 1643, and who wasdescribed as "principalle magistrate of this Corpe"; on the tomb wasthis charming verse in old English lettering:

 Our Curtaine in this lower press. Rests folded up in nature's dress; His dust P. Fumes his urne, and hee This towne with liberalitee. 

Abingdon is fortunate in having so many benefactors, who seem to havevied with each other in the extent of their gifts; even the churchitself is almost surrounded with almshouses, which, owing to theirquaint architectural beauty, form a great attraction to visitors. It isdoubtful whether any town in England of equal size possesses so manyalmshouses as Abingdon. Those near this church were built in the year1446 by the Fraternity or Guild of the Holy Cross, and the fine oldhospital which adjoined them, with its ancient wooden cloisters andgabled doorways and porch, was a sight well worth seeing. The hall orchapel was hung with painted portraits of its benefactors, includingthat of King Edward VI, who granted the Charter for the hospital. ThisGuild of the Holy Cross assisted to build the bridges and set up in themarket-place the famous Abingdon Cross, which was 45 feet high. Standingupon eight steps, this cross had "eight panels in the first storey andsix in the second; of stone, gilt and garnished, adorned with statuaryand coats of arms, a mightily goodly cross of stone with fair degreesand imagerie. " The design of the Abingdon Cross had been copied forother crosses, including, it was said, portions of those of Coventry andCanterbury; and it must have been of extraordinary beauty, for EliasAshmole, who was likely to know, declared that it was not inferior inworkmanship and design to any other in England. The cross was restoredin 1605, but when the army of the Parliament occupied the town in 1644, it was "sawed down" by General Waller as "a superstitious edifice. " TheChamberlain's Accounts for that year contained an entry of money paid"to Edward Hucks for carrying away the stones from the cross. "

[Illustration: MARKET CROSS, ABINGDON. _From an old print_. ]

The records in these old towns in the south, which had been kept bychurchwardens and constables for hundreds of years, were extremelyinteresting; and there was much information in those at Abingdon thatgave a good idea of what was to be found in a market-place in "ye oldentime, " for in addition to the great cross there were the May pole, thecryer's pulpit, the shambles, the stocks, the pillory, the cage, theducking-stool, and the whipping-post. 

In the year 1641, just before the Civil War, Abingdon possessed aSergeant-at-Mace in the person of Mr. John Richardson, who also appearsto have been a poet, as he dedicated what he described as a poem "ofharmless and homespun verse to the Mayor, Bayliffs, Burgesses, andothers, " in which are portrayed the proceedings at the celebration ofthe peace between the King and the Scots. Early in the morning theinhabitants were roused by "Old Helen's trowling bells, " which wereanswered by the "Low Bells of honest Nick, " meaning the bells of the twochurches:

 To Helen's Courts (ith'morne) at seven oth' clock, Our congregation in great numbers flock; Where we 'till Twelve our Orisons did send To him, that did our kingdom's Quarrels end. And these two Sermons two Divines did preach, And most divinely gratitude did teach. 

After these five hours of service, the congregation again returned tochurch from two till four, and then proceeded to the cross in themarket-place. 

 And thus we march'd: First with my golden Mace I pac'd along, and after followed mee The Burgesses by senioritee. Our Praetour first (let me not misse my Text), I think the Clergie-men came marching next; Then came our Justice, with him a Burger sage, Both marched together, in due equipage. The rest oth' Burgers, with a comely grace, Walked two and two along to th' market-place. 

And when the procession arrived at the steps of the cross--

 The Clerk was call'd, and he a Bible took, The hundred and sixt Psalme he out did look; Two thousand Quoristers their notes did raise And warbled out the Great Creator's praise!

After this came bonfires and wine and beer, and then the musketeers withrattling drums and fifes and colours flying, under the "skilfullSergeant Corderoy, " who fired off a barrel of powder before thewell-known "Antelope Inn. "

Abingdon was rather roughly handled during the Civil War, for, inaddition to the "sawing off" of the cross, the horses of theParliamentary Army were stabled in St. Helen's Church, an entry beingafterwards made in the churchwardens' book of a sum paid "for nailes andmending the seats that the soldiers had toorne. " The fines recordedduring the Commonwealth were: "For swearing one oath, 3s. 4d. ; fordrawing Beere on the Sabboth Day, 10s. 0d. ; a Gent for travelling on theSabboth, 10s. 0d. " Our journey might have been devised on a plan toevade all such fines, for we did not swear, or drink beer, or travel onSundays. We might, however, have fallen into the hands of highwayrobbers, for many were about the roads in that neighbourhood then, andmany stage-coaches had been held up and the passengers robbed. 

There was a rather imposing County Hall at Abingdon, built towards theclose of the seventeenth century, at which an ancient custom wasperformed on the coronation of a king. The mayor and corporation onthose occasions threw buns from the roof of the market-house, and athousand penny cakes were thus disposed of at the coronation of GeorgeIV, and again at the accession of William IV and of Queen Victoria. 

An apprentice of a cordwainer in the town ran away in 1764, or, as itwas worded on the police notice, "did elope from service. " He wasdescribed as a "lusty young fellow, wearing a light-coloured surtoutcoat, a snuff-coloured undercoat, a straw-coloured waistcoat, newishleather breeches, and wears his own dark brown hair tied behind, " so itappeared to us that he had not left his best clothes at home when he"did elope, " and would be easily recognised by his smart appearance. Wealso noticed that about the same period "Florists' Feasts" were held atAbingdon, perhaps the forerunners of the "Flower Shows" held at a laterperiod. In those days the flowers exhibited were chiefly "whole-blowingcarnations, " while the important things were the dinners which followedthe exhibitions, and which were served at the principal inns. 

[Illustration: THE "CROWN AND THISTLE INN, " ABINGDON. ]

But we must not leave Abingdon without giving an account of anotherbenefactor to the town, though rather on different lines, of whom adetailed account was given in _Jackson's Oxford Journal_ of November, 1767, from which it appeared that State lotteries were in vogue at thattime in England. The story chiefly related to a Mr. Alder, a cooper bytrade, who kept a "little public house" called the "Mitre. " His wife hadhanded him £22 to pay the brewer, but instead of doing so he only paidhim £10, and with the other twelve bought a ticket for the lottery, thenumber of which was 3379. The following precise account, copied from the_Journal_, will give the result, and show how events were described innewspapers in those days, the punctuation being carefully attended to, amore extensive use made of capital letters to distinguish the moreimportant words, and some words written separately which now are joinedtogether:

 Last Friday about one o'clock in the morning a Messenger in a Post Chaise and Four arrived Express at the Crown and Thistle in Abingdon, Berks. , from the Office where his Ticket was sold and registered, to give Mr. Alder the owner of it, the most early Advice of his good Fortune, upon which Mr. Powell immediately went with the Messenger to carry this important Intelligence. Mr. Alder was in Bed, but upon being called jumped out, and opened the Window; when Mr. Powell told him he had brought good News, for his Ticket was come up a Prize. Mr. Alder replied that he knew very well it was only a Joke, but nevertheless he would come down and drink with him, with all his Heart. This Point being settled, both Mr. Alder and his Wife came down; when the Prize still continued to be the Subject of Conversation whilst the Glass went round, and it was magnified by Degrees, till at length Mr. Alder was seriously informed that this Ticket was the Day before drawn a Prize for _Twenty Thousand Pounds_, and that the Gentleman then present was the Messenger of his Success. Though the utmost Precaution had been used, it is natural to suppose that so sudden and unexpected an Acquisition must produce very extra ordinary Emotions: Mr. Alder, however, supported him with great Decency, but almost immediately slipped out into the Yard behind his House, where he staid some little Time, probably to drop a joyful Tear, as well as to offer an Ejaculation for these Blessings of Providence; but at his Return into the House, we are told, he manifested a most open and generous Heart: He was immediately for doing good, as well as rewarding every one who had in any wise been instrumental in the Advancement of his Fortune. Mr. Powell was welcome to the Use of Half the Money without Interest; his Son, and all his Neighbours were called; he kept open House, set the Bells a'ringing, and came to the following Resolutions, viz. : That the Messenger that came down, and the two Blue-coat Boys who drew the Prize, should be handsomely rewarded; that he would give Mr. Blewitt, Owner of the Abingdon Machine, at least a New Body for his Stage, on which should be painted the Cooper's Arms, together with the Number of his Ticket, 3m379; that he would clothe all the Necessitous of his own Parish; and likewise give a Couple of the finest fat Oxen he could purchase to the Poor of Abingdon in general, and lay out the price of these Oxen in Bread, to be distributed at the same time. To the Ringers, in Number, fourteen, he gave Liquor in Plenty, and a Guinea each; and calling for a wet Mop, rubbed out all the Ale Scores in his Kitchen. In a Word he displayed a noble Liberality, made every Body welcome; and what is highly to be applauded, showed a charitable Disposition towards the Relief of the Poor. 

We could imagine the joviality of Mr. Alder's customers when they foundtheir ale scores so generously cancelled, which must have been fairlyextensive, seeing that it required a "mop" to remove them from theinside of his kitchen door. We had often seen these "scores" at countryinns behind the doors of the rooms where the poorer customers wereserved. It was a simple method of "book-keeping, " as the customers'initials were placed at the head of a line of straight strokes marked bythe landlord with white chalk, each figure "one" representing a pint ofbeer served to his customer during the week, and the money for the"pints" had to be paid at the week's end, for Saturday was the day whenwages were invariably paid to working men in the country; as scarcelyone of them could write his own name, it was a simple method of keepingaccounts that appealed to them, and one that could easily be understood, for all they had to do, besides paying the money, was to count thenumber of strokes opposite their names. In some places it was the customto place P. For pint and Q. For quart, which accounted for the origin ofthe phrase, _Mind your p's and q's_, so that the phrase, becoming ageneral warning to "look out, " was originally used as a warning to thedrinker to look at the score of p's and q's against him. We once heardof a landlord, however, whose first name was Daniel, and who wasdishonest. When a customer got "half-seas over" and could not seestraight, he used a piece of chalk with a nick cut in it, so that whenhe marked "one" on the door the chalk marked two; but he was soon foundout, and lost most of his trade, besides being nicknamed "DanDouble-chalk. " The custom of keeping ale scores in this way was referredto in the poem of "Richard Bell, " who was--

 As plodding a man, so his neighbours tell, as ever a chisel wielded. 

Richard's fault was that he spent too much money at a public-house namedthe "Jolly Kings, " and--

 One night, 'twas pay night! Richard's score Reach'd half across the Parlour door. His "Pints" had been so many And when at length the bill was paid, All that was left, he found, dismay'd, Was but a single penny!

If Mr. Alder's customers had spent their money as freely as Richard hadspent his, we could imagine their feelings of joy when they found theirale scores wiped out by Mr. Alder's wet mop!

 But during all the Jollity occasioned by this Event (the _Journal_ continued), it seems Mrs. Alder was in no wise elated, but rather thought the having such a great deal of Money a Misfortune; and seemed of Opinion that it would have been better to have had only enough to pay the Brewer, and a few Pounds to spare; for it would now certainly be their Ruin, as she knew well her Husband would give away all they had in the World, and indeed that it was _presumptuous_ in him at first to buy the Ticket. The Presumption alluded to by Mrs. Alder, we find, is that she had made up the Sum of 22l. For the Brewer, which her Husband took from her for that Purpose, but he having a strong Propensity to put himself in Fortune's Way, only paid 10l. , and with the other Twelve purchased the Ticket. 

 On Thursday last Mr. Alder set out for London, with Mr. Bowles of Abingdon, Attorney-at-Law; in order to Cheque His Ticket with the Commissioners Books, and take the Steps necessary for claiming and securing his Property. 

Subsequent reports in the _Journal_ described Mr. Alder as clothing thepoor and distributing bread and beef throughout the whole place, and ofbeing elected a churchwarden of St. Helen's, a result, we supposed, ofhis having become possessed of the £20, 000. 

[Illustration: THE ROMAN WAY: WHITE HORSE HILL IN THE DISTANCE. ]

We now bade farewell to Abingdon and walked in the direction ofSalisbury Plain, for our next great object of interest was the Druidicalcircles of Stonehenge, many miles distant. As we had to cross theBerkshire Downs, we travelled across the widest part of the Vale of theWhite Horse, in order to reach Wantage, a town at the foot of thoselonely uplands. We had the great White Horse pointed out to us on ourway, but we could not see the whole of it, although the hill on which itstood was the highest on the downs, which there terminated abruptly, forming a precipitous descent to the vale below. The gigantic figure ofthe horse had been cut out of the green turf to the depth of two orthree feet, until the pure white chalk underneath the turf had beenreached. The head, neck, and body were cut out in one waving line, whilethe legs were cut out separately, and detached, so that the distant viewshowed the horse as if it were galloping wildly. It was 374 feet long, and covered an acre of land, and was supposed to have been cut outoriginally by the army of King Alfred to celebrate his great victoryover the Danes at the Battle of Ashdown, about three miles distant. Itwas, however, held by some people that the origin of the horse was farbeyond the time of King Alfred, as the shape strongly resembled theimage of the horse found on early British coins. Certainly there was aBritish camp quite near it, as well as a magnificent Roman camp, withgates and ditch and mounds still as complete as when the Romans left it. It was, moreover, close to the Icknield Way, 856 feet above sea-level, from which portions of eleven counties could be seen. On a clear day aview of the horse could be obtained from places many miles distant, itswhite form showing clearly against the green turf surrounding it. 

[Illustration: THE ICKNIELD WAY, LOOKING FROM THE WHITE HORSE. ]

[Illustration: "BLOWING STONE": ALFRED'S BUGLE HORN. ]

Occasionally the outline had been obscured by the growth of turf andweeds, and then the lord of the manor had requisitioned the services ofthe inhabitants of several of the pretty villages near the downs, whoclimbed up to the horse at the appointed time and, armed with picks, spades, and brushes, "scoured" the horse until it was quite white again, and its proportions clearly shown. After their work was done a round ofmerry-making followed, the occasion being celebrated by eating anddrinking to the health of his lordship at his expense. The first versein the "White Horse Ballad, " written in the local dialect, was:

 The ould White Horse wants zettin' to rights. And the Squire has promised good cheer; Zo we'll gee un a scrape to kip' un in shape, And a'll last for many a year. 

A Roman road skirted the foot of the White Horse Hill, and on the sideof this road was a strangely shaped sarsen-stone called the "BlowingStone. " It was quite a large stone, in which holes had been formed bynature, running through it in every direction like a sponge. It was saidto have been used by King Alfred to summon his troops, as by blowingdown one of the holes a booing sound was produced from the other holesin the stone. On a later occasion my brother tried to make it sound, andfailed to do so, because he did not know the "knack, " but a yeoman'swife who was standing near, and who was quite amused at his efforts toproduce a sound, said, "Let me try, " and astonished him by blowing aloud and prolonged blast of a deep moaning sound that could have beenheard far away. The third verse in the ballad referred to it as:

 The Blewin Stun, in days gone by, Wur King Alfred's bugle harn, And the tharn tree you med plainly zee. As is called King Alfred's tharn!

The thorn tree marked the spot where the rival armies met--the pagansposted on the hill, and the Christians meeting them from below--it wasthrough the great victory won on that occasion that England became aChristian nation. 

We were now in "King Alfred's country, " for he was born at Wantage in849, but his palace, if ever he had one, and the thorn tree were thingsof the past, and what traces there were of him in the town were veryscant. There were King Arthur's Well and King Arthur's Bath; the mostsubstantial building bearing his name was the "King Alfred's Head Inn, "where we called for light refreshments, and where in former years thestage-coaches plying between Oxford and London stopped to change horses. Wantage must have been a place of some importance in ancient times, as aWitenagemote was held there in the year 990 in the time of Ethelred, atwhich the tolls were fixed for boats sailing along the Thames forBillingsgate Market in London. 

[Illustration: WANTAGE MARKET-PLACE. ]

There were several old inns in the town, and many of the streets werepaved with cobble-stones. Tanning at one time had been the stapleindustry, a curious relic of which was left in the shape of a smallpavement composed of knuckle-bones. Early in the century the town had anevil reputation as the abode of coiners, and when a man was "wanted" bythe police in London, the Bow Street runners always came to search forhim at Wantage. 

We had now to climb to the top of the downs, and after about two miles, nearly all uphill, reached the fine old Roman camp of Segsbury, wherewe crossed the Icknield Way, known locally as the Rudge or theRidge-way--possibly because it followed the ridge or summit of thedowns. It had every appearance of having been a military road from onecamp to another, for it continued straight from Segsbury Camp to theRoman camp on the White Horse Hill, about six miles distant. The "Rudge"was now covered with turf, and would have been a pleasant road to walkalong; but our way lay in another direction along a very lonely road, where we saw very few people and still fewer houses. 

It was quite dark when we crossed the small River Lambourn at thevillage of West Shefford, and after a further walk of about six miles wearrived at the town of Hungerford, where we stayed the night. What astrange effect these lonely walks had upon us when they extended fromone centre of population to another! We could remember the persons andplaces at either end, but the intervening space seemed like a dream oras if we had been out of the world for the time being, and onlyrecovered consciousness when we arrived at our destination and againheard the sounds of human voices other than our own. 

The origin of the name Hungerford appeared to have been lost inobscurity. According to one gentleman, whose interesting record weafterwards saw, it "has been an etymological puzzle to the topographerand local antiquarian, who have left the matter in the same uncertaintyin which they found it"; but if he had accompanied us in our walk thatday across those desolate downs, and felt the pangs of hunger as we did, mile after mile in the dark, he would have sought for no otherderivation of the name Hungerford, and could have found amplecorroboration by following us into the coffee-room of the "Bear Hotel"that night. We were very hungry. 

(_Distance walked thirty miles_. )

_Tuesday, November 7th. _

The "Bear Inn" at Hungerford, standing as it did on the great coach roadfrom London to the West, had been associated with stirring scenes. Itwas there that a gentleman who had fallen ill while travelling by thestage-coach had died, and was buried in the churchyard at Hungerford, with the following inscription on his gravestone:

 Here are deposited the remains of William Greatrake, Esqr. , native of Ireland, who on his way from Bristol to London, died in this town in the 52nd year of his age, on the 2nd August 1781 _Stat nominis umbra_

In the year 1769, some remarkably able and vigorous political letterssigned "Junius" appeared in the London _Public Advertiser_. They were socleverly written that all who read them wanted to know the author, butfailed to find out who he was. Afterwards they were published in bookform, entitled _The Letters of Junius_: in our early days the author ofthese letters was still unknown, and even at the time of our walk thematter was one of the mysteries of the literary world. The authorship of_The Letters of Junius_ was one of the romances of literature. Whoeverhe was, he must have been in communication with the leading politicalpeople of his day, and further, he must have been aware of the searchthat was being made for him, for he wrote in one of his letters, "If Iam a vain man, my gratification lies within a narrow circle. I am thesole depository of my own secret; and it shall perish with me. "Controversy was still going on about the _Letters of Junius_, for earlyin the year of our walk, 1871, a book was published entitled _TheHandwriting of Junius Professionally Investigated by Mr. Charles Chabot, Expert_, the object being to prove that Sir Phillip Francis was theauthor of the famous Letters. The publication of this book, however, caused an article to be written in the _Times_ of May 22nd, 1871, toshow that the case was "not proven" by Mr. Chabot, for William Pitt, thegreat Prime Minister, told Lord Aberdeen that he knew who wrote theJunius Letters, and that it was not Francis; and Lady Grenville sent aletter to the editor of _Diaries of a Lady of Quality_ to the sameeffect. 

While Mr. Greatrake was lying ill at the "Bear Inn" he was visited bymany political contemporaries, including the notorious John Wilkes, who, born in 1729, had been expelled three times from the House of Commonswhen Member for Middlesex; but so popular was he with the common people, whose cause he had espoused, that they re-elected him each time. So "thepowers that be" had to give way, and he was elected Alderman, thenSheriff, and then Lord Mayor of London, and when he died, in 1797, wasChamberlain of London. Mr. Greatrake was born in County Cork, Ireland, about the year 1725, and was a great friend of Lord Sherburn, whoafterwards became Prime Minister, in which capacity he had toacknowledge the independence of the United States, and was eventuallycreated Marquis of Lansdowne. Mr. Greatrake was known to have been aninmate of his lordship's house when the letters were being published, and the motto on them was _Stat nominis umbra_--the words which appearedon the tomb of Mr. Greatrake; and his autograph bore a strongerresemblance than any other to that of Junius; so what was a secret inhis lifetime was probably revealed in that indirect way after his death. 

The old church of Hungerford had fallen down, and a new one was built, and opened in the year 1816, the ancient monument of the founder, SirRobert de Hungerford, being transferred to the new church--though, asusual, in a damaged condition. It dated from 1325, and had been somewhatmutilated in the time of the Civil War. The inscription over it inNorman-French almost amounted to an absolution or remission of sins, forit promised, on the word of fourteen bishops, that whoever should prayfor the soul of Sir Robert de Hungerford should have during his life, and for his soul after his death, 550 days of pardon. 

The list of the vicars of Hungerford showed that most of them for somereason or other--my brother suggested hunger--had served for very shortperiods, but there was one notable exception--the Rev. William Cookson, son of William Cookson of Tomsett, Norfolk, doctor, who held the livingfor the long term of forty-eight years (1818-1866). 

The constables of Hungerford were elected annually, and the extractsfrom their accounts were very interesting, as references were made toinstruments of torture: "Cucking stoole, Pilliry, Stocks, and aWhippinge Post, " the last-named having been most extensively used, forthe constables had to whip all wandering tramps and vagrants "bystripping them naked from the middle upwards, and causing them to belashed until their bodies be bloody, in the presence of the Minister ofthe Parish, or some other inhabitant, and then to send them away toplace of birth!" Women were stripped as well as men, and in 1692 thetown Serjeant had even to whip a poor blind woman. The whipping offemales was stopped by statute in 1791. As Hungerford was on one of themain roads, many people passed through there, and in 1678 the whippingswere so numerous that John Savidge, the town Serjeant, was given aspecial honorarium of five shillings "for his extraordinary paines thisyear and whippinge of severall persons. "

Prince William with his Dutch troops halted at Hungerford on December8th, 1688, on his way from Torbay to London, where, three daysafterwards, he was proclaimed King William III. He was armed on his backand breast, and wore a white plume, and rode on a white charger, surrounded by nobles bearing his banner, on which were the words:

 THE PROTESTANT RELIGION AND THE LIBERTY OF ENGLAND. 

We were now practically at the end of Berkshire, and perhaps the RiverKennett, over which we passed, and on which John o' Gaunt of Lancasterhad given free fishery rights to Hungerford town, might have formed theboundary between that county and Wiltshire. We could not hear of anydirect road to Stonehenge, so we left Hungerford by the Marlborough roadwith the intention of passing through Savernake Forest---said to be thefinest forest in England, and to contain an avenue of fine beech trees, in the shape of a Gothic archway, five miles long. The forest was aboutsixteen miles in circumference, and in the centre was a point from whicheight roads diverged. We had walked about a mile on our way when we cameto some men working on the roads, who knew the country well, andstrongly advised us not to cross the forest, but to walk over the downsinstead. We decided to follow their advice, for the difficulty thatfirst occurred to us was that when we got to the eight roads there mightbe no one there to direct us on our further way; and we quite saw theforce of the remark of one of the men when he said it was far better toget lost on the down, where we could see for miles, than amongst thebushes and trees in the forest. They could only give us generalinformation about the best way to get to Stonehenge, for it was a longway off, but when we got to the downs we must keep the big hill well tothe left, and we should find plenty of roads leading across them. Wetravelled as directed, and found that the "big hill" was the InkpenBeacon, over a thousand feet above sea-level, and the highest chalk downcliff in England; while the "plenty of roads" were more in the nature ofunfenced tracks; still, we were fortunate in finding one leading in theright direction for Stonehenge and almost straight. 

The Marlborough Downs which adjoined Salisbury Plain are very extensive, occupying together three-fifths of the county of Wilts, being accuratelydescribed as "ranges of undulating chalk cliffs almost devoid of trees, and devoted almost exclusively to the pasturage of sheep from remoteages. " These animals, our only companions for miles, can live almostwithout water, which is naturally very scarce on chalk formations, sincethe rain when it falls is absorbed almost immediately. Very fewshepherds were visible, but there must have been some about, for everynow and then their dogs paid us rather more attention than we cared for, especially my brother, who when a small boy had been bitten by one, since which time not much love had been lost between him and dogs. Asthere were no fences to the roads, we walked on the grass, which wasonly about an inch deep. Sheep had been pastured on it from timeimmemorial, and the constant biting of the surface had encouraged theside, or undergrowth, which made our walking easy and pleasant; for itwas like walking on a heavy Turkey carpet though much more springy. Theabsence of trees and bushes enabled us to distinguish the presence ofancient earth-works, but whether they were prehistoric, Roman, Dane, orSaxon we did not know. Occasionally we came to sections of the downsthat were being brought under cultivation, the farms appearing verylarge. In one place we saw four ploughs at work each with three horses, while the farmer was riding about on horseback. We inquired about thewages from one of the farm hands, who told us the men got about 9s. Perweek, and the women who worked in the fields were paid eightpence perday. Possibly they got some perquisites in addition, as it seemed a verysmall amount, scarcely sufficient to make both ends meet. 

We had been walking quickly for more than four hours withoutencountering a single village, and were becoming famished for want offood; but the farmer's man told us we should come to one where there wasa public-house when we reached the River Avon by following thedirections he gave us. At Milston, therefore, we called for therefreshments which we so badly needed, and quite astonished ourcaterers, accustomed even as they were to country appetites, by ourgastronomical performances on that occasion. 

We were very much surprised when we learned that the small but prettyvillage of Milston, where we were now being entertained, was thebirthplace of Joseph Addison, the distinguished essayist and politician, who, with his friend Steele, founded the _Spectator_, and contributedlargely to the _Tatler_, and whose tragedy _Cato_ aroused suchenthusiasm that it held the boards of Drury Lane for thirty-fivenights--a great achievement in his time. As an essayist Addison had noequal in English literature, and to his writings may be attributed allthat is sound and healthy in modern English thought. In our long walk wemet with him first at Lichfield, where at the Grammar School he receivedpart of his early education, and where, on one occasion, he had barredout the schoolmaster. In the cathedral we saw his father's monument--hewas Dean of Lichfield Cathedral--and at Magdalen College, Oxford, wherehe completed his education, we again encountered remembrances of him--wesaw a delightful retreat called after him, "Addison's Walk. " On ourjourney farther south, when we passed through Lostwithiel, we werereminded that he was also a politician, for he represented that place inparliament. His father was Rector of Milston when Joseph was born, in1672. He was chiefly remembered in our minds, however, for his _DivinePoems_, published in 1728, for we had sung some of these in our earlychildhood, until we knew them off by heart, and could still recall hisbeautiful hymn on gratitude beginning:

 When all Thy mercies, oh my God, My rising soul surveys, Transported with the view, I'm lost In wonder, love, and praise. 

Some of his hymns, which were of more than ordinary merit, were said tohave been inspired by his youthful surroundings. Salisbury Plain, withits shepherds and their sheep, must have constantly appeared before himthen, as they were immediately before us now, and would no doubt be inhis mind when he wrote:

 The Lord my pasture shall prepare, And feed me with a shepherd's care; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye; My noonday walks He shall attend, And all my midnight hours defend. 

And then there was his magnificent paraphrase of the nineteenth Psalm:

 The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens--a shining frame-- Their great Original proclaim. Th' unwearied sun from day to day. Doth his Creator's power display. And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty hand. 

 Soon as the evening shades prevail. The Moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening Earth Repeats the story of her birth; Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll. And spread the truth from pole to pole. 

 What though in solemn silence all Move round the dark terrestrial ball; What though no real voice nor sound Amidst their radiant orbs be found? In Reason's ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice; For ever singing as they shine, "The Hand that made us is divine. "

After resting a short time and carefully writing down the instructionsgiven us as to how to reach Stonehenge, and the way thence to Amesbury, we resumed our journey; and near the place where we crossed the RiverAvon we had the first indication of our proximity to Stonehenge by thesight of an enormous stone lying in the bed of the stream, which we weretold was like those we should find at Stonehenge. It was said to be onethat the Druids could not get across the stream owing to its great sizeand weight, and so they had to leave it in the river. The country becamestill more lonely as we walked across Salisbury Plain, and on a dark wetnight it might quite come up to the description given of it by Barham inthe _Ingoldsby Legends_ in "The Dead Drummer, a Legend of SalisburyPlain, " the first verse of which runs:

 Oh, Salisbury Plain is bleak and bare, At least so I've heard many people declare, For I fairly confess I never was there;-- Not a shrub nor a tree, not a bush can you see; No hedges, no ditches, no gates, no stiles, Much less a house, or a cottage for miles;-- It's a very sad thing to be caught in the rain When night's coming on upon Salisbury Plain. 

Cruikshank's illustration of the legend represents a finger-post on thePlain without a bush or a tree or a house being visible, one finger ofthe post being marked "Lavington" and the other "Devizes. " The DeadDrummer is leaning against the post, with two men nervously approachinghim in the dark, while a flash of lightning betrays the bare plain andthe whole scene to the terrified men. 

Hannah More, who was born in 1745, wrote a large number of storieschiefly of a religious character, and was said to have earned £30, 000 byher writings, amongst them a religious tract bearing the title of "TheShepherd of Salisbury Plain. " We found he was not a mythical being, forDavid Saunders, the shepherd referred to, was a real character, notedfor his homely wisdom and practical piety, and, as Mrs. More describedhim, was quite a Christian Hero. He resided at Great Cherwell, nearLavington, where his house was still pointed out to visitors. A typicalshepherd of Salisbury Plain was afterwards pictured by another lady, anddescribed as "wearing a long black cloak falling from neck to heels, around felt hat, like a Hermes cap without the wings to it, and sometimesa blue milk-wort or a yellow hawk-weed in the brim, and walking with hisplume-tailed dog in front leading his sheep, as was customary in theEast and as described in the Scriptures--"the sheep follow him, for theyknow his voice. "

We did not see one answering to that description as we crossed thePlain, but no doubt there were such shepherds to be found. 

The sky had been overcast that day, and it was gloomy and cloudy when wereached Stonehenge. Without a house or human being in sight, the utterloneliness of the situation seemed to add to our feelings of wonder andawe, as we gazed upon these gigantic stones, the remains of prehistoricages in England. We had passed through the circles of stones known asthe "Standing Stones of Stenness" when we were crossing the mainland ofthe Orkney Islands on our way to John o' Groat's, but the stones we nowsaw before us were much larger. There had been two circles of stones atStonehenge, one inside the other, and there was a stone that wassupposed to have been the sacrificial stone, with a narrow channel in itto carry off the blood of the human victims slain by the Druids. In thatdesolate solitude we could almost imagine we could see the priests asthey had been described, robed in white, with oak crowns on their heads, and the egg of a mythical serpent round their necks; we could hear thecries and groans of the victims as they were offered up in sacrifice tothe serpent, and to Bel (the sun). Tacitus said they held it right tostain their altars with the blood of prisoners taken in war, and to seekto know the mind of the gods from the fibres of human victims. One verylarge stone outside the circles was called the "Friar's Heel, " thelegend stating that when the devil was busy erecting Stonehenge he madethe observation to himself that no one would ever know how it had beendone. This remark was overheard by a friar who was hiding amongst thestones, and he replied in the Wiltshire dialect, "That's more than theecan tell, " at which the devil took up a big stone to throw at him, buthe ran away as fast as he could, so that the stone only just grazed hisheel, at the place where it now stands. 

[Illustration: DRUIDICAL REMAINS, STONEHENGE. ]

We walked about these great stones wondering how they could have beenraised upright in those remote times, and how the large stones couldhave been got into position, laid flat on the tops of the others. Manyof the stones had fallen down, and others were leaning over, but whencomplete they must have looked like a circle of open doorways. Thelarger stones, we afterwards learned, were Sarsen Stones or GreyWethers, of a siliceous sandstone, and were natural to the district, butthe smaller ones, which were named the blue stones, were quite of adifferent character, and must have been brought from a considerabledistance. If the ancient Welsh story could be believed, the blue stoneswere brought over in ships from Ireland after an invasion of thatcountry under the direction of Merlin the Wizard, and were supposed tobe mystical stones with a medicinal value. As to the time of theerection of these stones, we both agreed to relegate the matter to themists of antiquity. Some thought that because Vespasian's Camp was onAmesbury Hill, Stonehenge might have been built by the Romans in thetime of Agricola, but others, judging perhaps from the ancient tombs inthe neighbourhood, thought it might date backwards as far as 2, 000 yearsB. C. Nearly all agreed that it was a temple of the worshippers of thesun and might even have been erected by the Phoenicians, who must haveknown how the Egyptians raised much heavier stones than these. By someStonehenge was regarded as the Round Temple to Apollo in the land of theHyperboreans, mentioned by Hecatoens in the sixth century B. C. , andafter the Phoenicians it was supposed to have been used by the Greeks, who followed them as traders with the British tin mines. According tothis theory, the Inner Ellipse or Horseshoe of Blue Stone was made bythem, the Druids adopting it as their temple at a much later date. 

[Illustration: STONEHENGE. ]

"Amongst the ruling races of prehistoric times the father sun-god wasthe god on the grey white horse, the clouds, and it was this whitehorse--the sun-god of the limestone, flint, and chalk country---whichwas the god of Stonehenge, the ruins of which describe the completeritual of this primeval worship. The worshippers of the sun-god whobuilt this Temple must, it was thought, have belonged to the Bronze Age, which theory was supposed to have been confirmed by the number of roundbarrow tombs in the neighbourhood. It was also noted that the whitesun-horse was still worshipped and fed daily at Kobé, in Japan. "

Stonehenge had been visited by Pepys, who described the stones in his_Diary_ as being "as prodigious as any tales as I had ever heard ofthem, and worth going this journey to see"; and King Charles II hadcounted them over several times, but could not bring them twice to thesame number, which circumstance probably gave rise to the legend that notwo people ever counted the number alike, so of course we did notattempt to count them. But the king's head must have been uneasy at thetime he counted them, as it was after the Battle of Worcester, when hewas a fugitive, retreating across the country in disguise and hidden byhis friends until he could reach the sea-coast of Sussex, and escape byship from England. One of his hiding-places was Heale House, about fourmiles from Stonehenge, where the lady of the house had hidden him inwhat was known as the "Priest's Hole, " arrangements having been made forsome friends to meet him at Stonehenge, and accompany him a stagefarther towards the south. His friends, however, had been delayed alittle on their way, so they did not reach Stonehenge at the appointedhour; and Charles whiled away the time by counting and recounting thestones. 

Cheshire was formerly noted for the great number of landowners of thesame name as the parishes in which they resided, such as Leigh of Leigh, Dutton of Dutton, Antrobus of Antrobus. The last-named squire had leftAntrobus and gone to reside at Amesbury in Wiltshire, letting hismansion in Cheshire and the land attached to it, as a farm, to a tenantnamed Wright. This Mr. Wright was an uncle of ours, whom we had oftenvisited at Antrobus. The elder of his two sons, who followed him astenant of the farm, told us a story connected with the old Hall there. He and his brother when they were boys slept in the same bed, and onemorning they were having a pushing match, each trying, back to back, topush the other out of bed. He was getting the worst of the encounterwhen he resolved to make one more great effort, and placed his feetagainst the wall which was near his side of the bed; but instead ofpushing his brother out, he and his brother together pushed part of thewall out, and immediately he found himself sitting on a beam with hislegs hanging outside over the moat or garden, having narrowly escapedfollowing the panel. The stability of these old timber-built halls, which were so common in Cheshire, depended upon the strong beams withwhich they were built, the panels being only filled in with lightmaterial such as osiers plastered over with mud; and it was one of thesethat had been pushed out. The old mansion was shortly afterwards takendown and replaced by an ordinary red-brick building. We had oftenwondered what sort of a place Amesbury was, where the Squire of Antrobushad gone to reside, and had decided to go there, although it was ratherout of our way for Salisbury, our next stage. We found that Stonehengewas included in his estate as well as Amesbury Abbey, where he lived, and Vespasian's Hill. When we came in sight of the abbey, we were quitesurprised to find it so large and fine a mansion, without any visibletrace of the ancient abbey which once existed there, and we consideredthat the lines of Sir Edmund Antrobus, Bart. , had fallen in pleasantplaces when he removed here from the damper atmosphere of Cheshire, andthat he had adopted the wisest course as far as health was concerned. Wehad thought of calling at the abbey, but as it was forty-nine yearssince he had left our neighbourhood and he had died in the year 1830, wecould not muster up sufficient courage to do so. We might too have seena fine portrait of the old gentleman, which we heard was hanging up inone of the rooms in the abbey, painted by Sir Thomas Lawrence, a friendof George IV, and President of the Royal Academy, who had also paintedthe portraits of most of the sovereigns of Europe reigning in his time, and who died in the same year as Sir Edmund. 

Amesbury Abbey formerly belonged to the Duke of Queensberry, who madegreat additions to it from the plans of the celebrated architect InigoJones, who designed the famous Banqueting Hall at Whitehall in Londonand the fine gateway of St. Mary's, Oxford. He was known as "the EnglishPalladio" because he adopted the style of Andrea Palladio, a celebratedItalian architect of the sixteenth century. He was responsible for thetwo Palladian pillars attached to the quaint and pretty entrance gatesto the Abbey Park, and for the lovely Palladian bridge that spanned theRiver Avon, which flowed through the grounds, forming a favourite resortfor wild ducks, kingfishers, herons, and other birds. Inigo Jones was astaunch Royalist, who suffered severely during the Civil War, and diedin 1652. The park was not a very large one, but was very pretty, andcontained the famous Amesbury Hill, which was covered with fine trees onthe slope towards the river; some of which had been arranged in the formof a diamond, partly concealing a cave now known as the Diamond Cave, but formerly belonging to the Druids, as all the sunrises would bevisible before the intervening trees were planted. This cave was thefavourite resort of John Gay, the poet, who loved to write there. He wasa great friend of the Duke and Duchess of Queensberry, who then ownedthe Amesbury estate, was the author of the _Beggar's Opera_, publishedin 1727, and lies buried in Westminster Abbey. 

[Illustration: THE CAVE IN THE DIAMOND. ]

The church had been heavily restored in 1853, and one of its formervicars had been a famous man in his day according to the followingaccount from the _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1789. 

 INVENTOR OF THE WATER PUMP

 Until the year 1853, a slab before the Communion Table in Amesbury Church bore the following inscription In memory of the Revd. Thomas Holland, who was for half a century Minister of this Parish, a small living yet he never solicited for a greater nor improved to his own advantage his marvellous talents in applying the powers of nature to the useful purposes of life, the most curious and complete engine which the world now enjoys _for raising water_ being invented by him. 

 He departed the 11th day of May in the year of our Lord 1730, Aged 84 years. 

 During his term of office the register was kept in a very careful manner and excellent handwriting, a contrast to later efforts by his successors. 

[Illustration: OLD SARUM: THE MAIN GATE OF THE CASTLE FROM WITHIN. ]

The evening was now coming on, and we had yet to walk eight miles intoSalisbury by what was called the "Upper Road, " which crossed a tract ofbleak and rather uninteresting downs; but the road was well defined andthe daylight, such as it was, remained with us longer than if we hadgone by the more picturesque road along the tree-lined banks of theRiver Avon. Amesbury was but a small place, and the only industry thatwe could hear of that ever existed there was the manufacture of tobaccopipes branded with a gauntlet, the name of the maker. We had a lonelywalk, and about two miles from Salisbury saw to the right the outline ofa small hill which turned out to be Old Sarum, a name that figured onthe mileposts for many miles round Salisbury, being the ancient andRoman name for that city. Old cities tend to be on hills, for defence, but modern equivalents occur in the valley below, representative ofpeace conditions and easy travelling for commercial purposes. It wasnow, however, only a lofty grass mound, conical in shape and about ahundred feet high. It was of great antiquity, for round about it stoodat one time one of the most important cities in the south of England, after the prehistoric age the Sorbiodunum of the Romans, and theSarisberie of the Domesday Book. Cynric captured it by a victory overthe Britons in 552, and in 960 Edgar held a Council there. Sweyn and theDanes pillaged and burnt it in 1003, and afterwards Editha, the Queen ofEdward the Confessor, established a convent of nuns there. It was madean Episcopal See in 1072, and twenty years afterwards Bishop Osmond, akinsman of William the Conqueror, completed the building of thecathedral. It was in 1076 that William, as the closing act of hisConquest, reviewed his victorious army in the plain below; and in 1086, a year before his death, he assembled there all the chief landowners inthe realm to swear that "whose men soever they were they would befaithful to him against all other men, " by which "England was everafterwards an individual kingdom. " In course of time the populationincreased to such an extent round the old mound that they were short ofroom, and the soldiers and the priests began to quarrel, or, as an oldwriter described it, "the souldiers of the Castell and chanons of OldSarum fell at odds, inasmuch that often after brawles they fell at lastto sadde blowes and the Cleargie feared any more to gang their boundes. Hereupon the people missing their belly-chere, for they were wont tohave banketing at every station, a thing practised by the religious inold tyme, they conceived forthwith a deadly hatred against theCastellans. " The quarrel ended in the removal of the cathedral to theplain below, where Salisbury now stands, and the glory of Old Sarumdeparted. As far back as the time of Henry VIII the place became utterlydesolate, and it was interesting to read what visitors in after timeshad written about it. 

[Illustration: OLD SARUM: BASE OF THE LOOK-OUT TOWER. ]

John Leland, who was born in 1506 and was chaplain to Henry VIII, made atour of the kingdom, and wrote in his well-known _Itinerary_, "Their isnot one house, neither within or without Old Saresbyri inhabited. Muchnotable minus building of the Castell yet remayneth. The diche thatenvirined the old town was a very deepe and strong thynge. " SamuelPepys, who was born in 1632, and who was secretary to the Admiraltyduring the reigns of Charles II and James II, describes in his famous_Diary_ many interesting incidents in the life of that period. He wroteof Old Sarum: "I saw a great fortification and there light, and to itand in it, and find it so prodigious as to frighten one to be in it atall alone at that time of night. " It would probably be at an earlierhour of a lighter night when Mr. Pepys visited it, than when we passedit on this occasion, for the hill now was enveloped in black darkness"deserted and drear, " and we should scarcely have been able to find theentrance "to it and in it, " and, moreover, we might not have been ableto get out again, for since his time an underground passage had beenopened, and who knows what or who might have been lurking there! Dr. Adam Clark visited Old Sarum in 1806, and wrote: "We found here theremains of a very ancient city and fortress, surrounded by a deeptrench, which still bears a most noble appearance. On the top of thehill the castle or citadel stood, and several remains of a very thickwall built all of flint stone, cemented together with a kind ofeverlasting mortar. What is remarkable is that these ruins are stillconsidered in the British constitution as an inhabited city, and sendtwo members to Parliament. Within the breadth of a field from this noblehill there is a small public-house, the only dwelling within a verygreat space, and containing a very few persons, who, excepting thecrows, hens, and magpies, are the only beings which the worthy membershave to represent in the British Senate. "

We were glad when we reached Salisbury and found a comfortable refugefor the night in one of the old inns in the town. It was astonishing howcosy the low rooms in these old-fashioned inns appeared, now that the"back end" of the year was upon us and the nights becoming longer, darker, and colder. The blazing fire, the ingle nook, the pleasantcompany, such as it was, the great interest taken in our long walk--forpeople knew what heavy walking meant in those days--all tended to makeus feel comfortable and at home. True, we did not care much for thedialect in these southern counties, and should much have preferred "abit o' gradely Lankyshur, " so as a rule we listened rather than joinedin the conversation; but we were greatly interested in the story of theWiltshire Moonrakers, which, as we were strangers, was apparently givenfor our benefit by one of the older members of the rather jovialcompany. It carried us back to the time when smuggling was prevalent, and an occasion when the landlord of a country inn near the sea-coastsent two men with a pony and trap to bring back from the smugglers' dentwo kegs of brandy, on which, of course, duty had not been paid, withstrict orders to keep a sharp look-out on their return for theexciseman, who must be avoided at all costs. The road on the returnjourney was lonely, for most people had gone to bed, but as the moon wasfull and shining brightly, all went well until the pony suddenly tookfright at a shadow on the road, and bolted. The men, taken by surprise, lost control of the reins, which fell down on the pony and made mattersworse, for he fairly flew along the road until he reached a point whereit turned over a canal bridge. Here the trap came in contact with thebattlement of the bridge, causing the pony to fall down, and the twomen fell on top of him. Fortunately this saved them from being seriouslyinjured, but the pony was bruised, and one of the shafts of the trapbroken, while the kegs rolled down the embankment into the canal. Withsome difficulty they managed to get the pony and broken trap into a farmbuilding near the bridge, but when they went to look for the kegs theysaw them floating in the middle of the canal where they could not reachthem. They went back to the farm building, and found two hay-rakes, andwere just trying to reach the kegs, the tops of which they could plainlysee in the light of the full moon, when a horseman rode up, whom, totheir horror, they recognised as the exciseman himself. When he asked"What's the matter?" the men pretended to be drunk, and one of them saidin a tipsy tone of voice, "Can't you see, guv'nor? We're trying to getthat cheese out o' th' water!" The exciseman couldn't see any cheese, but he could see the image of the full moon on the surface of the canal, and, bursting into a roar of laughter at the silliness of the men, herode off on his way home. But it was now the rustics' turn to laugh asthey hauled the kegs out of the canal and carried them away in triumphon their shoulders. The gentleman who told the story fairly "broughtdown the house" when he added, "So you see, gentlemen, they were not sosilly after all. "

[Illustration: HIGH STREET GATE, SALISBURY. ]

One of the company asked my brother if he had heard that story before, and when he said "No, but I have heard one something like it inYorkshire, " he at once stood up and called for "Silence, " announcingthat there was a gentleman present who could tell a story about theYorkshire Moonrakers. My brother was rather taken aback, but he couldalways rise to the occasion when necessary, so he began in his usualmanner. "Once upon a time" there were two men living in a village inYorkshire, who went out one day to work in the fields amongst the hay, taking their rakes with them. They were good workers, but as the dayturned out to be rather hot they paid too much attention to the largebottle of beer in the harvest field, with the consequence that beforenight came on the bottle was empty; so they went to the inn, and stayedthere drinking until it was nearly "closing time. " By that time theywere quite merry, and decided to go home by the nearest way, leadingalong the towing-path of one of the canals, which in the north are widerand deeper than those farther south. As it was almost as light as day, the moon being at its full, they got along all right until one of themsuddenly startled his mate by telling him that the moon had fallen intothe canal! They both stood still for a moment, thinking what an awfulthing had happened, but there seemed to be no doubt about it, whatever, for there was the moon lying in the middle of the canal. It would neverdo to leave it there, but what could they do to get it out? Their firstthought was the rakes they were carrying home on their shoulders, andthey decided to rake the moon to the side of the canal, where they wouldreach it with their hands. They set to work--but although their rakeswere of the largest size, and their arms long and strong, the canal wastoo wide to enable them to reach the moon. They were, however, agreedthat they must get it out some way or other, for it would be a pity ifit got drowned. At last they decided that they would both get into thecanal, and fetch the moon out themselves. They pulled off their coats, therefore, and, laying them on the path, got into the water, only tofind it much deeper than they had expected; their feet sank into the mudat the bottom, and the water came nearly up to their necks at once, andas it was deeper towards the middle, they found it impossible to carryout their task. But the worst feature was that neither of the men couldswim, and, being too deeply immersed in the water to reach high enoughon the canal bank to pull themselves out again, they were in greatdanger of drowning. Fortunately, however, a boat was coming along thecanal, and when the man who was driving the horses attached to the boatheard their cries, he ran forward, and, stopping where he found thecoats on the towing-path, was horrified to see the two men holding on tothe stones that lined the canal. They were fast losing consciousness, but with the assistance of the other men on the boat he got them out onthe bank, and when they had recovered a little, assisted them home, forthey both had drunk too much beer. The incident created a greatsensation at the time, but as "all's well that ends well, " it wasafterwards looked upon as a great joke--though the two men were everafterwards known as the Moonrakers, a nickname that was eventuallyapplied to all the inhabitants of that village. 

The story was well received, but not quite so loudly applauded as thatwhich preceded it, until one gentleman in the company rose and asked mybrother if he could name the village in Yorkshire where the incidentoccurred. "Certainly, sir, " he replied; "the place was called Sloyit. "

"Sloyit! Sloyit!" murmured the gentleman; and then he said, "How do youspell it?" and, taking out his notebook and adjusting his gold-rimmedspectacles, he prepared to record the name of the place as my brothergave out each letter. And then followed one of the most extraordinaryscenes we had witnessed on our journey, for just at that moment some onein the rear made a witty remark which apparently was aimed at thesearcher after knowledge, who was now on his feet, and which causedgeneral laughter amongst those who heard it. The gentleman was evidentlya man of some importance in the city, and his notebook was apparentlyknown to the company almost as well as himself, but perhaps not lookedupon as favourably, for its production under the present circumstancesseemed to have caused this unwonted amusement. 

[Illustration: ST. ANN'S GATE, SALISBURY. ]

My brother could not proceed until he could make himself heard, and itwas difficult to restore order at that late hour of the evening; butwhen the laughter had subsided, he called to the gentleman in a loudvoice, "Are you ready, sir?" and when he said "I am, sir!" he proceededto call out each letter slowly and distinctly, so that all the companycould hear, the gentleman as he entered them in his book repeating theletters in a minor key which sounded exactly like the echo. 

"S, " shouted my brother, "s, " echoed the gentleman; "L, " said mybrother, "L" softly responded the gentleman slowly; and then followedA, a letter which the gentleman did not expect, as he said, "Did you say'A, ' sir?" "I did, sir, " he replied, repeating the letter, which wasrepeated doubtfully as the listener entered it in his book. The nextletters were "I" and "T, " which were followed by the letter "H. " Thesewere inserted without comment, beyond the usual repetition in a subduedtone, but when my brother followed with "W, " it became evident that thegentleman thought that there was "something wrong somewhere, " and thathe had a strong suspicion that he was being led astray. When my brotherassured him it was quite correct, he rather reluctantly entered it inhis book; but now there was a slight pause, as the space originallyallotted for the name had been fully occupied, and the remainder of theword had to be continued on another page, much to the annoyance of thewriter. 

The company had by this time become greatly interested in theproceedings; but the fact was that the name of the place was not soundedas it was spelled, and it was amusing to watch the expressions on theirfaces as my brother proceeded to call out the remainder of the letters. I could see they were enjoying the discomfiture of the old gentleman, and that a suspicion was gaining ground that all the other letters ofthe alphabet might yet be included! When the gentleman had selected thecorner in his note-book to record the remaining letters, and my brotherbegan with the letter "A, " he remonstrated that he had given him thatletter previously, and a strong assurance from my brother was necessaryin order to ensure the entry of the letter in the notebook; but when itwas followed by "I" and "T" and including the "A" in exactly the sameorder as he had recorded them before, his patience was quite exhausted, and his previous suspicions confirmed that he was being hoaxed. Theremainder of the party amidst their hardly suppressed laughter insistedupon their being entered, and when my brother called out the finalletter "E, " and repeated the whole of the letters

SLAITHWAITE

and pronounced the word "Slawit" or "Sloyt, " the hitherto suppressedamusement burst in a perfect roar of laughter, the company evidentlythinking that the gentleman who had asked the question had got hisanswer! Taking advantage of the general hilarity, we quietly and quicklyretreated to another and less noisy room upstairs, for the night. 

(_Distance walked twenty-eight and a half miles_. )

_Wednesday, November 8th. _

It must have been a great work to remove the City of Old Sarum and torebuild it in another position a mile or two away from its ancient site. The removal began in 1219, and was continued during about 120 years;Royal consent had to be obtained, as well as that of the Pope, HonoriusIII. The reason then given for its removal was that Old Sarum was toomuch exposed to the weather, and that there was also a scarcity ofwater there--in fact "too much wind and too little water. " There wassome difficulty in deciding the position on which the new cathedralshould be built, but this was solved by the Bishop shooting an arrowfrom the top of the Castle of Old Sarum; wherever the arrow alighted thenew cathedral was to be built. The arrow fell very conveniently in themeadows where four rivers ran--the Avon, Bourne, Nadder, and Wylye--andamongst these the magnificent cathedral of Salisbury was built. Therivers, which added to the picturesque beauty of the place, were fed byopen canals which ran through the main streets of the city, causingSalisbury to be named at that time the "English Venice. "

Nearly every King and Queen of England, from the time of Henry III, whogranted its first Charter in 1227, had visited Salisbury, and overtwenty of their portraits hung in the Council Chamber. Two Parliamentswere held in Salisbury, one in 1328 and another in 1384; and it was inthe market-place there, that Buckingham had his head cut off in 1483 byorder of his kinsman, Richard III, for promoting an insurrection in theWest of England. Henry VIII visited the city on two occasions, once withCatherine of Aragon, and again with Anna Boleyn. James I too came toSalisbury in 1611, and Charles II with his queen in 1665--on both theseoccasions to escape the plagues then raging in London. Sir WalterRaleigh was in the city in 1618, writing his _Apology for the Voyage toGuiana_, before his last sad visit to London, where he was beheaded. James II passed through the town in 1688 to oppose the landing ofWilliam of Orange, but, hearing he had already landed at Torbay, hereturned to London, and William arrived here ten days later, occupyingthe same apartments at the palace. 

But the chief object of interest in Salisbury was the fine cathedral, with its magnificent Decorated Spire, the highest and finest in England, and perhaps one of the finest in Europe, for it is 404 feet high, fortyfeet higher, we were informed, than the cross on the top of St. Paul'sCathedral in London. This information rather staggered my brother, forhe had an exalted opinion of the height of St. Paul's, which he hadvisited when he went to the Great Exhibition in London in 1862. 

On that occasion he had ascended the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral fromthe inside by means of the rickety stairs and ladders provided for thatpurpose, and had reached the golden ball which supported the cross onthe top, when he found it already occupied by two gentlemen smokingcigars, who had arrived there before him, and who kindly assisted himinto the ball, which, although it only appeared about the size of afootball when seen from the city below, was big enough to hold four men. They also very kindly offered him a cigar, which he was obliged todecline with thanks, for he did not smoke; but when they told him theycame from Scotland, he was not surprised to find them there, as Scotsmeneven in those days were proverbial for working their way to the top notonly of the cathedrals, but almost everywhere else besides. The "britherScots" were working to a previously arranged programme, the present itembeing to smoke a cigar in the golden ball on the top of St. Paul'sCathedral. When my brother began the descent, he experienced one of themost horrible sensations of his life, for hundreds of feet below him hecould see the floor of the cathedral with apparently nothing whateverin the way to break a fall; so that a single false step might havelanded him in eternity, for if he had fallen he must have been dashedinto atoms on the floor so far below. The gentlemen saw he was nervous, and advised him as he descended the ladder backwards not to look downinto the abyss below, but to keep his eyes fixed above, and followingthis excellent advice, he got down safely. He always looked back on thatadventure in the light of a most horrible nightmare and withjustification, for in later years the Cathedral authorities made theWhispering Gallery the highest point to which visitors were allowed toascend. 

We did not of course attempt to climb the Salisbury spire, althoughthere were quite a number of staircases inside the cathedral, and afterclimbing these, adventurous visitors might ascend by ladders through thetimber framework to a door near the top; from that point, however, thecross and the vane could only be reached by steeple-jacks. Like otherlofty spires, that of Salisbury had been a source of anxiety and expensefrom time to time, but the timber used in the building of it had beenallowed to remain inside, which had so strengthened it that it was thenonly a few inches out of the perpendicular. When a new vane was put onin 1762 a small box was discovered in the ball to which the vane wasfixed. This box was made of wood, but inside it was another box made oflead, and enclosed in that was found a piece of very old silk--a relic, it was supposed, of the robe of the Virgin Mary, to whom the cathedralwas dedicated, and placed there to guard the spire from danger. Thecasket was carefully resealed and placed in its former position underthe ball. 

A very large number of tombs stood in the cathedral, including many offormer bishops, and we were surprised to find them in such goodcondition, for they did not appear to have suffered materially in theCivil War. The very oldest were those that had been removed from OldSarum, but the finest tomb was that of Bishop Giles de Bridport, theBishop when the new cathedral was completed and consecrated. He died in1262, and eight carvings on the stone spandrel above him represented thesame number of scenes in his career, beginning with his birth and endingwith the ascent of his soul into heaven. The figure of a boy in fullepiscopal robes, found under the seating of the choir in 1680, and namedthe "Boy Bishop, " was an object of special interest, but whether it wasa miniature of one of the bishops or intended to represent a "choralbishop, " formerly elected annually by the choir, was unknown. 

There were also tombs and effigies to the first and second Earls ofSalisbury, the first, who died in 1226, being the son of Henry II andFair Rosamond, of whom we had heard at Woodstock. He was represented inchain armour, on which some of the beautiful ornaments in gold andcolour still remained. His son, the second Earl, who went twice to theHoly Land as a Crusader under St. Louis, was also represented in chainarmour and cross-legged. 

Near this was the tomb of Sir John Cheney, a man of extraordinary sizeand strength, his thigh-bone measuring 21 inches, whose great armour wehad seen in Sir Walter Scott's house at Abbotsford. He was bodyguard toHenry of Richmond at the Battle of Bosworth Field, near which we passedat Atherstone. Sir William Brandon was Richmond's standard-bearer, andwas cut down by King Richard himself, who tore his standard from himand, flinging it aside, rode at Sir John Cheney and hurled him from hishorse just before he met his own fate. 

[Illustration: SALISBURY CATHEDRAL. "The fine Cathedral, with itsmagnificent Decorated spire, the highest and finest in England--perhapsthe finest in Europe, for it is forty feet higher than the Dome of St. Paul's in London. "]

There are a large number of pillars and windows in Salisbury Cathedral, but as we had no time to stay and count them, we accepted the numbersgiven by the local poet as being correct, when he wrote:

 As many days as in one year there be, So many windows in this Church we see; As many marble pillars here appear As there are hours throughout the fleeting year; (8760) As many gates as moons one year does view. Strange tale to tell; yet not more strange than true. 

The Cathedral Close at Salisbury was the finest we had seen both forextent and beauty, the half-mile area of grass and the fine trees givingan inexpressible charm both to the cathedral and its immediatesurroundings. The great advantage of this wide open space to us was thatwe could obtain a magnificent view of the whole cathedral. We had passedmany fine cathedrals and other buildings on our walk whose proportionswere hidden by the dingy property which closely surrounded them, butSalisbury was quite an exception. True, there were houses in and aroundthe close, but these stood at a respectful distance from the cathedral, and as they had formerly been the town houses of the aristocracy, theycontained fine old staircases and panelled rooms with decoratedceilings, which with their beautiful and artistic wrought-iron gateswere all well worth seeing. The close was surrounded by battlementedstone walls on three sides and by the River Avon on the fourth, permission having been granted in 1327 by Edward III for the stones fromOld Sarum to be used for building the walls of the close at Salisbury;hence numbers of carved Norman stones, fragments of the old cathedralthere, could be seen embedded in the masonry. Several gate-houses ledinto the close, the gates in them being locked regularly every night inaccordance with ancient custom. In a niche over one of these, known asthe High Street Gate, there was a statue which originally representedJames I, but when he died it was made to do duty for Charles I by takingoff the head of James and substituting that of Charles, his successor tothe throne, with the odd result that the body of James carried the headof Charles!

There were many old buildings in the city, but we had not time toexplore them thoroughly. Still there was one known as the Poultry Crossnobody could fail to see whether walking or driving through Salisbury. Although by no means a large erection, it formed one of the moststriking objects in the city, and a more beautiful piece of Gothicarchitecture it would be difficult to imagine. It was formerly calledthe Yarn Market, and was said to have been erected about the year 1378by Sir Lawrence de St. Martin as a penance for some breach ofecclesiastical law. It consisted of six arches forming an open hexagon, supported by six columns on heavy foundations, with a central pillarsquare at the bottom and six-sided at the top--the whole highlyornamented and finished off with an elaborate turret surmounted by across. It was mentioned in a deed dated November 2nd, 1335, and formeda feature of great archaeological interest. 

[Illustration: POULTRY CROSS, SALISBURY. ]

The old portion of St. Nicholas' was in existence in 1227, and in theChorister's Square was a school established and endowed as far back asthe year 1314, to support fourteen choristers and a master to teachthem. Their costumes must have been rather picturesque, for they wereordered to be dressed in knee-breeches and claret-coloured coats, withfrills at the neck instead of collars. 

Quite a number of ancient inns in Salisbury were connected with the oldcity life, Buckingham being beheaded in the yard of the "Blue Boar Inn"in the market-place, where a new scaffold was provided for the occasion. In 1838 a headless skeleton, believed to be that of Buckingham, was dugout from below the kitchen floor of the inn. 

The "King's Arms" was another of the old posting-houses where, when KingCharles was hiding on Salisbury Plain in the time of the Civil War, after the Battle of Worcester, a meeting was held under the guidance ofLord Wilmot, at which plans were made to charter a vessel for theconveyance of the King from Southampton to some place on the Continent. Here we saw a curiosity in the shape of a large window on the firstfloor, from which travellers formerly stepped on and off the top of thestage-coaches, probably because the archway into the yard was too lowfor the outside passengers to pass under safely. There was also the"Queen's Arms, " with its quaint porch in the shape of a shell over thedoorway, and the "Haunch of Venison, " and others; but in the time of theCommonwealth we might have indulged in the luxury of staying at theBishop's Palace, for it was sold at that time, and used as an inn. Itmust have had rough visitors, for when the ecclesiastical authoritiesregained possession it was in a very dilapidated condition. 

One of the oldest coaching-houses in Salisbury in former years was the"George Inn, " mentioned in the city records as far back as the year1406; but the licence had lapsed, and the building was now being usedfor other purposes. Its quaint elevation, with its old-fashionedbow-windows, was delightful to see, and in the year 1623 it was declaredthat "all Players from henceforth shall make their plays at the GeorgeInn. " This inn seemed to have been a grand place, for Pepys, who stayedthere in 1668, wrote in his _Diary_ in his quaint, abrupt, andabbreviated way: "Came to the George Inne, where lay in a silk bed andvery good diet"; but when the bill was handed to him for payment, he was"mad" at the charges. 

We left Salisbury with regret, and with the thought that we had not seenall that we ought to have seen, but with an inward resolve to pay theancient city another visit in the future. Walking briskly along thevalley of the river Nadder, and taking advantage of a field road, wereached the village of Bemerton. Here George Herbert, "the mostdevotional of the English poets, " was rector from 1630 to 1632, havingbeen presented to the living by Charles I. Herbert was born atMontgomery Castle, near the Shropshire border, and came of a noblefamily, being a brother of the statesman and writer Lord Herbert ofChirbury, one of the Shropshire Herberts. He restored the parsonage atBemerton, but did not live long to enjoy it. He seems to have had apresentiment that some one else would have the benefit of it, as hecaused the following lines to be engraved above the chimneypiece in thehall, giving good advice to the rector who was to follow him:

 If thou chance for to find A new house to thy mind, And built without thy cost. Be good to the poor As God gives thee store And then my labour's not lost. 

It was here that he composed most of his hymns, and here he died at whathis friend Izaak Walton described in 1632 as "the good and more pleasantthan healthful parsonage. " A tablet inscribed "G. H. 1633" was all thatmarked the resting-place of "the sweetest singer that ever sang God'spraise. " Bemerton, we thought, was a lovely little village, and therewas a fig-tree and a medlar-tree in the rectory garden, which Herberthimself was said to have planted with his own hands. Here we record oneof his hymns:

 Let all the world in every corner sing My God and King! The Heavens are not too high. His praises may thither fly; The earth is not too low, His praises there may grow. Let all the world in every corner sing My God and King!

 Let all the world in every corner sing My God and King! The Church with psalms must shout, No door can keep them out; But above all the heart Must bear the longest part. Let all the world in every corner sing My God and King!

The old church of Chirbury belonged to the Herberts, and was noted forits heavy circular pillars supporting the roof, which, with the walls, were so much bent outwards that they gave one the impression that theywould fall over; but nearly all the walls in old churches bend that waymore or less, a fact which we always attributed to the weight of theheavy roof pressing on them. At one village on our travels, however, wenoticed, hanging on one of the pillars in the church, a printed tablet, which cleared up the mystery by informing us that the walls and pillarswere built in that way originally to remind us that "Jesus on the crossHis head inclined"; and we noticed that even the porches at the entranceto ancient churches were built in the same way, each side leaningoutwards. 

A great treat was in store for us this morning, for we had to passthrough Wilton, with its fine park surrounding Wilton House, themagnificent seat of the Herberts, Earls of Pembroke and Montgomery. Ourfirst impression was that Wilton was one of the pleasantest places wehad visited. Wiltshire took its name from the river Wylye, which herejoins the Nadder, so that Wilton had been an important place in ancienttimes, being the third oldest borough in England. Egbert, the WessexKing, had his palace here, and in the great contest with Mercia defeatedBeornwulf in 821 at Ellendune. A religious house existed here in veryearly times. In the reign of Edward I it was recorded that Osborn deGiffard, a relative of the abbess, carried off two of the nuns, and wassentenced for that offence to be stripped naked and to be whipped in thechurches of Wilton and Shaftesbury, and as an additional punishment toserve three years in Palestine. In the time of Henry VIII, Anne Boleynwished to give the post of abbess to a friend, but King Henry hadscruples on the subject, for the proposed abbess had a somewhat shadyreputation; he wrote, "I would not for all the gold in the world clogyour conscience nor mine to make her a ruler of a house, which is of soungodly a demeanour, nor I trust you would not that neither for brothernor sister I should so bestain mine honour or conscience. " This wethought to be rather good for such a stern moralist as Henry VIII, butperhaps in his younger days he was a better man than we had been taughtto believe. 

Wilton suffered along with Old Sarum, as the loss of a road was aserious matter in those days, and Bishop Bingham, who appeared to havebeen a crafty man, and not at all favourable to the Castellans at OldSarum, built a bridge over the river in 1244, diverting the main road ofIcknield Way so as to make it pass through Salisbury. As Leland wrote, "The changing of this way was the total cause of the ruine of OldSaresbyri and Wiltown, for afore Wiltown had 12 paroche churches ormore, and was the head of Wilesher. " The town of Wilton was verypleasant and old-fashioned. The chief industry was carpet-making, whichoriginally had been introduced there by French and Flemish weaversdriven by persecution from their own country. When we passed through thetown the carpet industry was very quiet, but afterwards, besides Wiltoncarpets, "Axminster" and "Brussels" carpets were manufactured there, water and wool, the essentials, being very plentiful. Its fairs forsheep, horses, and cattle, too, were famous, as many as 100, 000 sheephaving been known to change owners at one fair. 

[Illustration: WILTON HOUSE FROM THE RIVER. ]

We were quite astonished when we saw the magnificent church, on aterrace facing our road and approached by a very wide flight of steps. It was quite modern, having been built in 1844 by Lord Herbert of Lea, and had three porches, the central one being magnificently ornamented, the pillars resting on lions sculptured in stone. The tower, quite ahundred feet high, stood away from the church, but was connected with itby a fine cloister with double columns finely worked. The interior ofthe church was really magnificent, and must have cost an immense sum ofmoney. It had a marble floor and some beautiful stained-glass windows;the pulpit being of Caen stone, supported by columns of black marbleenriched with mosaic, which had once formed part of a thirteenth-centuryshrine at Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome, some of the stained glass alsobelonging to the same period. 

The great House of Wilton, the seat of the Herberts, had been built in adelightful situation on the site of the old monastery, amidst beautifulgardens and grounds. It was a veritable treasure-house for pictures bythe most famous painters, containing a special gallery filled almostexclusively with portraits of the family and others painted by Vandyck. The collection included a good portrait of Prince Rupert, [Footnote: Seepage 303. ] who gave the army of the Parliament such a lively time in theCivil War, and who is said, in spite of his recklessness, to have beenone of the best cavalry officers in Europe. Queen Elizabeth stayed threedays there in 1573, and described her visit as "both merrie andpleasante. " During this visit she presented Sir Philip Sidney, theauthor of _Arcadia_, with a "locke of her owne hair, " which many yearsafterwards was found in a copy of that book in the library, and attachedto it a very indifferent verse in the Queen's handwriting. Charles I, it was said, visited Wilton every summer, and portraits of himself, Henrietta Maria and their children, and some of their Court beauties, were also in the Vandyck gallery. 

Wilton Park attracted our attention above all, as the rivers Wylye andNadder combined to enhance its beauty, and to feed the ornamental lakein front of the Hall. There were some fine cedar trees in the park, andas we had often seen trees of this kind in other grounds through whichwe had passed, we concluded they dated from the time of the Crusades, and that the crusaders had brought small plants back with them, of whichthese trees were the result. We were informed, however, that the cedartrees at Wilton had only been planted in the year 1640 by the Earl ofDevonshire, who had sent men to collect them at Lebanon in the HolyLand. Thus we were compelled to change our opinion, for the trees we hadseen elsewhere were of about the same girth as those at Wilton, and musttherefore have been planted at about the same period. The oak trees inthe park still retained many of their leaves, although it was now latein the autumn, but they were falling off, and we tried to catch some ofthem as they fell, though we were not altogether successful. My brotherreminded me of a verse he once wrote as an exercise in calligraphy whenat school:

 Men are like leaves that on the trees do grow, In Summer's prosperous time much love they show, But art thou in adversity, then they Like leaves from trees in Autumn fall away. 

But after autumn and winter have done their worst there are still somebushes, plants, or trees that retain their leaves to cheer the travelleron his way. Buckingham, who was beheaded at Salisbury, was at one time afugitive, and hid himself in a hole near the top of a precipitous rock, now covered over with bushes and known only to the initiated as"Buckingham's Cave. " My brother was travelling one winter's day insearch of this cave, and passed for miles through a wood chieflycomposed of oak trees that were then leafless. The only foliage thatarrested his attention was that of the ivy, holly, and yew, and theseevergreens looked so beautiful that he occasionally stopped to admirethem without exactly knowing the reason why; after leaving the greatwood he reached a secluded village far away from what was calledcivilisation, where he inquired the way to "Buckingham's Cave" from aman who turned out to be the village wheelwright. In the course ofconversation the man informed him that he occasionally wrote poetry fora local newspaper with a large circulation in that and the adjoiningcounties. He complained strongly that the editor of the paper hadomitted one verse from the last poem he had sent up; which did notsurprise my brother, who inwardly considered he might safely haveomitted the remainder. But when the wheelwright showed him the poem hewas so pleased that he asked permission to copy the verses. 

 The fairest flower that ever bloomed With those of bright array In Seasons' changeful course is doomed To fade and die away; While yonder's something to be seen-- It is the lovely evergreen!

 The pretty flowers in summer-time Bring beauty to our land, And lovely are the forest trees-- In verdure green they stand; But while we gaze upon the scene We scarcely see the evergreen!

 But lo! the wintry blast comes on, And quickly falls the snow; And where are all the beauties gone That bloom'd a while ago? While yonder stands through winter keen The lovely-looking evergreen!

 Our lives are like a fading flower, And soon they pass away, And earthly joys may last an hour To disappear at close of day; But Saints in Heaven abide serene And lasting, like the evergreen!

My brother felt that here he had found one of nature's poets, and nolonger wondered why he had admired the evergreen trees and bushes whenhe came through the forest. 

[Illustration: COL. JOHN PENRUDDOCKE. ]

In about two miles after leaving Wilton we parted company with the RiverNadder, and walked along the road which passes over the downs toShaftesbury. On our way we came in sight of the village of ComptonChamberlain, and of Compton House and park, which had been for centuriesthe seat of the Penruddocke family. It was Colonel John Penruddocke wholed the famous "forlorn hope" in the time of the Commonwealth in 1655. He and another champion, with 200 followers, rode into Salisbury, where, overcoming the guards, they released the prisoners from the gaol, andseizing the two judges of assize proclaimed Charles II King, just asBooth did in Cheshire. The people of the city did not rise, as theyanticipated, so Penruddocke and his companions dispersed and rode awayto different parts of the country; eventually they were all takenprisoners and placed in the Tower of London. Penruddocke was examinedpersonally by Cromwell at Whitehall, and it was thought for a time thathe might be pardoned, but ultimately he was sent to the scaffold. Hecompared the steps leading up to the scaffold to Jacob's ladder, thefeet on earth but the top reaching to heaven; and taking off his doublethe said, "I am putting off these old rags of mine to be clad with thenew robes of the righteousness of Jesus Christ. " The farewell lettersbetween him and his wife were full of tenderness and love, and what hehad done was doubtless under the inspiration of strong religiousconvictions. It was said that it was his insurrection that led to thedivision of the country into military districts, which have continuedever since. The lace cap he wore on the scaffold, blood-stained andshowing the marks of the axe, was still preserved, as well as his sword, and the beautiful letters that passed between him and his wife, and theColonel's portrait was still to be seen at the mansion. 

About a mile before reaching Shaftesbury we left Wiltshire and enteredthe county of Dorset, of which Shaftesbury was said to be the mostinteresting town from an antiquarian point of view. Here the downsterminate abruptly, leaving the town standing 700 feet above the sealevel on the extreme point, with precipices on three sides. Across thefar-famed Blackmoor Vale we could quite easily see Stourton Tower, standing on the top of Kingsettle Hill, although it was twelve milesdistant. The tower marked the spot where, in 879, King Alfred raised hisstandard against the Danes, and was built in 1766, the inscription on itreading:

 Alfred the Great A. D. 879 on this summit erected his standard against Danish invaders. To him we owe the origin of Juries, the establishment of a Militia, the creation of a Naval Force. Alfred, the light of a benighted age, was a Philosopher, and a Christian, the father of his people, the founder of the English monarchy and liberty. 

In the gardens near that tower the three counties of Dorset, Somerset, and Wilts meet; and here in a grotto, where the water runs from a jarunder the arm of a figure of Neptune, rises the River Stour, whoseacquaintance we were to form later in its sixty-mile run through Dorset. 

Shaftesbury had been a stronghold from the earliest times, and so longago, according to Geoffrey of Monmouth, who was born A. D. 1100, that anEagle spoke to the people who were building the walls words that even hedare not write. Elgiva, the queen of the Saxon King Edward the Elder, was buried in the Abbey at Shaftesbury, as were also the remains ofEdward the Martyr, who was murdered by Elfrida his step-mother in 980. When the bones of this canonised king began to work miraculous cures, there was a rush of pilgrims to the town, which at one time containedtwelve churches. King Canute, it was stated, died here in 1035; and in1313 Elizabeth, the wife of Robert Bruce of Scotland, was brought to theAbbey as a prisoner. The building was demolished in the time of HenryVIII, all that remained of it being what is known as the old Abbey wall. 

Most of the old churches had disappeared too, but under St. Peter'sthere was a wine-cellar belonging to a public-house displaying thestrange sign of the "Sun and Moon. " The proximity of inns to churcheswe had often noted on our journey, but thought _this_ intrusion had beencarried rather too far, although the age of the church proclaimed it tobe a relic of great antiquity. We must not forget to record that betweenWilton and Shaftesbury we saw a large quantity of pheasants feedingunder some oak trees. We counted more than twenty of them, and had neverseen so many gathered together before. Among them we noted three thatwere white, the only white pheasants we had ever seen. 

Leaving Shaftesbury, we crossed over one section of the Blackmoor Vale, or what we might describe as the Stour country, for there were manyplace-names in which the word Stour occurred. The place where the RiverStour rises is known as Stourhead; and we had seen a monument, rather afine one, in Salisbury Cathedral, to the murderer, Lord CharlesStourton. Three holes on each side of the monument represented thesources of the Stour at Stourhead, and these figured in the armorialbearings of the family. Lord Charles was hanged with a silk cord insteadof the usual one made of hemp, the execution taking place in SalisburyMarket-place in 1556; his crime was the murder of two of the familyagents, father and son. His own four agents were hanged at the same timealong with him, and a piece of twisted wire resembling the halter wassuspended over his tomb for many years, to remind people of hispunishment and crime. 

We took the precaution of getting our tea before leaving Shaftesbury, asthere was some uncertainty about the road to Sturminster, where, attracted by the name, we expected to find a minster or cathedral, andhad therefore decided to make that town our next stage. We could see akind of mist rising at several points in the valley as we descended thesteep hill leading out of the town in the direction of the Stour valley. No highway led that way except one following a circuitous route, so wewalked at a quick pace along the narrow by-road, as we had beendirected. Darkness soon came over us, and we had to moderate our speed. We met very few persons on the road, and saw very few houses, and itseemed to us a marvel afterwards that we ever reached Sturminster (orStourminster) that night. It would have been bad enough if we had beenacquainted with the road, but towards the close of our journey we couldhear the river running near us for miles in the pitch darkness, andalthough my brother walked bravely on in front, I knew he was afraid ofthe water, and no doubt in fear that he might stumble into it in thedark. We were walking in Indian file, for there was no room to walkabreast in safety, while in places we had absolutely to grope our way. We moved along

 Like one who on a lonely road Doth walk in fear and dread. And dare not turn his head, For well he knows a fearful fiend Doth close behind him tread. 

It is perhaps unnecessary to explain that the "fearful fiend" was noteither my brother or myself, but some one supposed to be somewhere inthe rear of us both; but in any case we were mightily pleased when wereached the "King's Arms" at Sturminster, where we were looked upon asheroes, having now walked quite 1, 100 miles. 

(_Distance that day, twenty-eight miles_. )

_Thursday, November 9th. _

A sharp frost during the night reminded us of the approach of winter, and we left Sturminster early this morning with the determination ofcrossing the county of Dorset, and reaching the sea-coast that night, thence to follow the coast-line as far as was consistent with seeing allthe sights we could, until we reached the Land's End. We again crossedthe bridge over the River Stour by which we had entered the town in theblack darkness of the previous night, and were careful not to damage anyof the six arches of which it was composed, as a notice inscribed on thebridge itself stated that any one damaging any portion of it would beguilty of felony and liable to transportation for life! We had not beenable to find any special object of interest in the town itself, althoughKing Edgar had given the manor to the monks of Glastonbury. Even the oldchurch, with the exception of the tower, had been pulled down andrebuilt; so possibly the old and well-worn steps that had formed thebase of the cross long since disappeared might claim to be the mostancient relic in the town. The landlord of the inn had told us thatSturminster was famous for its fairs, which must have originated in veryearly times, for they were arranged to be held on saints' days--St. Philip and Jacob's, and St. Luke's respectively. 

[Illustration: ALL THAT REMAINS OF STURMINSTER CROSS]

After crossing the bridge we climbed up the small hill opposite, to viewthe scant ivy-clad ruins of Sturminster-Newton Castle, which was allthat remained of what was once a seat of the Saxon Kings, especially ofEdgar and Edward the Elder. We had a pleasant walk for some miles, andmade good progress across the southern end of the Vale of Blackmoor, butdid not keep to any particular road, as we crossed the country in thedirection of some hills we could occasionally see in the distance. Eventually we reached Cerne-Abbas, where we were told we ought to havecome in the springtime to see the primroses which there grew in immenseprofusion. We had heard of the "Cerne Giant, " whose fixed abode was nowthe Giant's Hill, immediately behind the village, and whose figure wasthere cut out in the turf. Formerly this monster caused great loss tothe farmers by eating their sheep, of which he consumed largequantities. They were quite powerless to stop him, owing to his immensesize and the enormous club he carried; but one day he had eaten so manysheep that he felt drowsy and lay down to sleep. He was seen by thefarmers, who could tell by his heavy breathing that the giant was fastasleep, so they got together all their ropes and quietly tied his limbsand fastened him to the earth; then, attacking him with their knives andaxes, they managed to kill him. This was a great event, and to celebratetheir victory they cut his figure in the chalk cliff to the exactlife-size, so that future generations could see what a monster they hadslain. This was the legend; and perhaps, like the White Horses, of whichthere were several, the Giant might have been cut out in prehistorictimes, or was it possible he could have grown larger during thecenturies that had intervened, for he was 180 feet in height, and theclub that he carried in his hand was 120 feet long! Cerne Abbas was avery old place, as an early Benedictine Abbey was founded there in 987, the first Abbot being Aelfric, who afterwards became Archbishop ofCanterbury. It was at Cerne that Queen Margaret sought refuge afterlanding at Weymouth in 1471. Her army had been defeated at Barnet on thevery day she landed; but, accompanied by a small force of Frenchsoldiers, she marched on until she reached Tewkesbury, only to meetthere with a final defeat, and to lose her son Edward, who was murderedin cold blood, as well as her husband Henry VI. Very little remained ofthe old abbey beyond its ancient gateway, which was three stories high, and displayed two very handsome double-storeyed oriel windows. 

We now followed the downward course of the River Cerne, and walkingalong a hard but narrow road soon reached the village of Charminster. The church here dated from the twelfth century, but the tower was onlybuilt early in the sixteenth century by Sir Thomas Trenchard ofWolfeton, whose monogram T. T. Appeared on it as well as in severalplaces in the church, where some very old monuments of the Trenchardfamily were also to be seen. Wolfeton House was associated with a verycurious incident, which materially affected the fortunes of one ofEngland's greatest ducal families. In 1506 the Archduke Philip ofAustria and Joanna his wife sailed from Middelburg, one of the Zeelandports, to take possession of their kingdom of Castile in Spain. But agreat storm came on, and their ship became separated from the others. Becoming unmanageable, it drifted helplessly down the Channel, and tomake matters worse took fire just when the storm was at its height, andnarrowly escaped foundering. Joanna had been shipwrecked on a formeroccasion, and when her husband came to inform her of the danger, shecalmly put on her best dress and, with all her money and jewels abouther, awaited her fate, thinking that when her body was found they wouldsee she was a lady of rank and give her a suitable burial. With greatdifficulty the ship, now a miserable wreck, was brought into the port ofWeymouth, and the royal pair were taken out with all speed and conveyedto the nearest nobleman's residence, which happened to be that of SirThomas Trenchard, near Dorchester, about ten miles distant. They werevery courteously received and entertained, but the difficulty was thatSir Thomas could neither speak Spanish nor French, and the visitorscould not speak English. In this dilemma he suddenly remembered a youngkinsman of his, John Russel of Berwick House, Bridport, who hadtravelled extensively both in France and Spain, and he sent for himpost-haste to come at once. On receipt of the message young Russel lostno time, but riding at full gallop, soon arrived at Wolfeton House. Hewas not only a good linguist, but also very good-looking, and the royalvisitors were so charmed with him that when King Henry VII sent the Earlof Arundel with an escort to convey Philip and Joanna to see him atWindsor Castle, Russel went with them, and was introduced to King Henryby his royal guests as "a man of abilities, fit to stand before princesand not before meaner men. " This was a good start for young Russel, andled to the King's retaining him at Court. He prospered greatly, risinghigh in office; and in the next reign, when Henry VIII dissolved themonasteries, Russel came in for a handsome share of the spoils, including Woburn Abbey; he was created a peer, and so founded the greathouse of Bedford, made a dukedom in 1694 by William III. One of hisdescendants, the third son of the sixth Duke of Bedford, was Lord JohnRussell (the name being then able to afford an extra letter), whobrought the Great Reform Bill into Parliament in the year 1832. He wasPrime Minister then and in several subsequent Parliaments, and his namewas naturally a household word all over the kingdom; but what made mybrother more interested in this family was that as early as the year1850 he was nicknamed "Lord John, " after Lord John Russell, who was thenthe Prime Minister. 

We were now quite near Dorchester, but all we knew about that townpreviously was from a song that was popular in those days about "OldToby Philpot, " whose end was recorded in the last verse, when--

 His breath-doors of life on a sudden were shut, And he died full as big as a Dorchester butt!

Our expectations of finding a brewery there were fully realised, and, asanticipated, the butts we saw were of much larger dimensions, especiallyabout the waist, than those we had seen farther north. If "Toby" was ofthe same proportions as one of these he must have been quite amonstrosity. 

We were surprised to find Dorchester such a clean and pretty town. Seeing it was the county town of Dorset, one of the most ancientsettlements in England, and the Durmovaria of the Romans, we expected tofind some of those old houses and quaint passages so common to ancientcounty towns; but we learned that the old town had been destroyed by afire in 1613, and long before that (in 1003) Dorchester had been burntto the ground by the Danes. It had also suffered from serious fires in1622, 1725, and 1775, the last having been extinguished by the aid ofJohnny Cope's Regiment of Dragoons, who happened then to be quartered inthe town. But the great fire in 1613 must have been quite a fearfulaffair, as we saw a pamphlet written about it by an eye-witness, underthe title of _Fire from Heaven_. It gave such a graphic description ofwhat such a fire was like, that we copied the following extract, whichalso displayed the quaint phraseology and spelling peculiar to thatperiod:

 The instrument of God's wrath began first to take hold in a tradesman's worke-house . . . Then began the crye of fier to be spread through the whole towne man, woman and childe ran amazedly up and down the streetes, calling for water, so fearfully, as if death's trumpet had sounded a command of present destruction. The fier began between the hours of two and three in the afternoone, the wind blowing very strong, and increased so mightily that, in a very short space, the most part of the town, was tiered, which burned so extreamely, the weather being hot, and the houses dry, that help of man grew almost past . . . The reason the fier at the first prevailed above the strength of man was that it unfortunately happened in the time of harvest, when people were most busied in the reaping of their corne, and the towne most emptyest, but when this burnying Beacon of ruyne gave the harvestmen light into the field, little booted it to them to stay, but in more than reasonable hast poasted they homeward, not only for the safeguard of their goods and houses, but for the preservation of their wives and children, more dearer than all temporall estate or worldly abundance. In like manner the inhabitantes of the neighbouring townes and villages, at the fearful sight of the red blazing element, ran in multitudes to assist them, proffering the dear venture of their lives to oppresse the rigour of the fier, but all too late they came, and to small purpose showed they their willing minds, for almost every streete was filled with flame, every place burning beyond help and recovery. Their might they in wofull manner behold merchants' warehouses full of riche commodities on a flaming fier, garners of breade corn consuming, multitudes of Wollen and Linnen Clothes burned into ashes, Gold and Silver melted with Brasse, Pewter and Copper, tronkes and chestes of Damaskes and fine linnens, with all manner of rich stuffs, made fewell to increase this universe sole conqueror. . . . The fierceness of the fier was such that it even burnet and scorchet trees as they grew, and converted their green liveries into black burned garments; not so much as Hearbes and Flowers flourishing in Gardynes, but were in a moment withered with the heat of the fier. . . . Dorchester was a famous towne, now a heap of ashes for travellers that passe by to sigh at. Oh, Dorchester, wel maist thou mourn for those thy great losses, for never had English Towne the like unto thee. . . . A loss so unrecoverable that unlesse the whole land in pitty set to their devotions, it is like never to re-obtain the former estate, but continue like ruinated Troy, or decayed Carthage. God in his mercy raise the inhabitants up againe, and graunt that by the mischance of this Towne both us, they and all others may repent us of our sins. Amen. 

It was computed that over three hundred houses were destroyed in thisgreat fire; but the prayer of the writer of the pamphlet, as to thetown's being raised up again, had been granted. The county of Dorsetgenerally, lies in the sunniest part of England, and the town was nowprospering and thoroughly healthy, the death-rate being well below theaverage: did not the great Dr. Arbuthnot leave it in despair with theremark, "In Dorchester a physician can neither live nor die"?

Dorchester was one of the largest stations of the Romans in England, andtheir amphitheatre just outside the town was the most perfect in thecountry, the Roman road and Icknield ways passing quite near it. Therewere three great earthworks in the immediate neighbourhood--the MaumburyRings or Amphitheatre, the Poundbury Camp, and the far-famed MaidenCastle, one of the greatest British earthworks; in fact Roman and otherremains were so numerous here that they were described as being "asplentiful as mushrooms, " and the whole district was noted for its"rounded hills with short herbage and lots of sheep. " We climbed up thehill to see the amphitheatre, which practically adjoined the town, andformed one of the most remarkable and best preserved relics of the Romanoccupation in Britain. It was oval in shape, and had evidently beenformed by excavating the chalk in the centre, and building up the sideswith it to the height of about thirty feet. It measured 345 feet by 340, and was supposed to have provided ample accommodation for the men andbeasts that figured in the sports, in addition to about 13, 000spectators. 

In the year 1705 quite 10, 000 people assembled there to witness thestrangling and burning of a woman named Mary Channing, who had murderedher husband. This woman, whose maiden name was Mary Brookes, lived inDorchester with her parents, who compelled her to marry a grocer in thetown named Richard Channing, for whom she did not care. Keeping companywith some former gallants, she by her extravagance almost ruined herhusband, and then poisoned him. At the Summer Assizes in 1704 she wastried, but being found pregnant she was removed, and eighteen weeksafter her child was born, she was, at the following Lent Assizes, sentenced to be strangled and then burned in the middle of the area ofthe amphitheatre. She was only nineteen years of age, and insisted tothe last that she was innocent. 

About a hundred years before that a woman had suffered the same penaltyat the same place for a similar offence. This horrible cruelty wassanctioned by law, in those days, in case of the murder of a husband byhis wife; and the Rings were used as a place of execution until the year1767. 

There was a fine view of the country from the top of the amphitheatre, and we could see both the Poundbury Camp and the Mai-Dun, or "Hill ofStrength, " commonly called the Maiden Hill, a name also applied to otherhills we had seen in the country. The Maiden Hill we could now see wassupposed to be one of the most stupendous British earthworks inexistence, quite as large as Old Sarum, and covering an area of 120acres. It was supposed to be the Dunium of which Ptolemy made mention, and was pre-Roman without a doubt. At Dorchester the Romans appear tohave had a residential city, laid out in avenues in the direction ofMaumbury Camp, with houses on either side; but the avenues we saw wereof trees--elm, beech, and sycamore. 

The burial-places of the Romans were excavated in the chalk, and thisbeing naturally dry, their remains were preserved much longer there thanif they had been buried in damp soil. Many graves of Roman soldiers hadbeen unearthed from time to time, and it was discovered that the chalkhad been scooped out in an oblong form to just the exact size of thecorpse. The man was generally found buried on his side with his kneesdrawn up to his chest, all sorts of things being buried with him, including very often a coin of the then reigning emperor placed in hismouth. His weapon and utensils for eating and drinking, and hisornaments, had been placed as near as possible to the positions where hehad used them in life; the crown of his head touched one end of theoval-shaped hole in which he had been buried and his toes the other. Thetomb was exactly in the shape of an egg, and the corpse was placed in itas tightly as possible, like a chicken in its shell. Women's ornamentswere also found buried with them, such as pins for the hair and beadsfor the neck; but we did not hear of any rings having been found amongstthem, so possibly these tokens of slavery were not worn by the Romanladies. We might have found some, however, in the local museum, whichwas full of all kinds of old things, and occupied a house formerlytenanted by that man of blood---Judge Jeffreys, whose chair was stillpreserved, and whose portrait by Lely was sufficient alone to proclaimhis brutal character. In the time of Monmouth's rebellion in 1685 JudgeJeffreys began his "Bloody Assize" at Dorchester. Monmouth had landed atLyme Regis in the south of the county, and the cry was "A Monmouth! AMonmouth! The Protestant Religion!" and a number of Puritans had joinedhis standard. More than three hundred of them had been taken prisonersand were awaiting their trial at Dorchester, the county town. Jeffreyslet it be known that their only chance was to plead guilty and throwthemselves on the mercy of their country, but in spite of this twohundred and ninety-two received sentence of death. Twenty-nine of thesewere despatched immediately, and about ninety were executed in variousparts of the country, their bodies being brutally dismembered andexposed in towns, villages, and hamlets. Great efforts were made to saveone young gentleman named Battiscombe, who was engaged to a young ladyof gentle blood, a sister of the Sheriff; she threw herself at the feetof Jeffreys to beg for mercy, but he drove her away with a jest soshocking to decency and humanity that it could not be repeated, andBattiscombe perished with the others. Altogether three hundred personswere executed, more were whipped and imprisoned, and a thousand sold andtransported to the Plantations, for taking part in this rebellion, themoney going as perquisites to the ladies of the Court. Jeffreys rose tobe Lord Chancellor, but falling into disgrace after the abdication ofJames II, he was committed to the Tower of London and there died in1689, before he could be brought to trial. It saddened us to think thatthis brute really belonged to our own county, and was at first theJustice for Chester. The following entry appeared in the records of thetown:

 To a Bill for disbursements for ye Gallows. Burning and boiling ye Rebels, executed p. Order £116 4s. 8d. Paid Mr. Mayers att ye Beare, for so much hee pd. For setting up of a post with ye quarters of ye Rebells att ye town end as p. His Bill 1s. 6-1/2d. 

These entries bear evidence of this horrible butchery; but theDorcestrians seem to have been accustomed to sights of this kind, asthere had been horrible persecutions of the Roman Catholics there in thetime of Queen Elizabeth--sequel perhaps to those of the Protestants inthe time of Queen Mary--one man named Pritchard was hanged, drawn, andquartered in 1583, and in 1584 four others were executed. 

Dorchester, like other places, could boast of local celebrities. Amongthese was John White, who in 1606 was appointed rector of Dorchester andheld that office until the day of his death in 1648. He was the son ofone of the early Puritans, and was himself a famous Puritan divine. Atthe Assembly of Divines at Westminster in 1643 he was said to haveprayed before the House of Commons in St. Margaret's for an hour and ahalf, in the hope that they might be induced to subscribe to the"Covenant" to resist the encroachments of Charles I on religiousliberty. 

He was a pioneer in the New England movement, and was virtually thefounder of Massachusetts, in America. From the first he took a mostactive part in encouraging emigration and in creating what at that timewas known as New England, and he was also the founder of the New EnglandCompany. It was in 1620 that the good ship _Mayflower_ arrived atPlymouth with Robinson's first batch of pilgrims from Holland on theirway across the Atlantic. It is not certain that White crossed the oceanhimself; but his was the master-mind that organised and directed theexpeditions to that far-distant land, and he was ably seconded by BishopLake, his friend and brother Wykehamist. 

[Illustration: JOHN ENDICOTT, FIRST GOVERNOR OF MASSACHUSETTS. ]

He also influenced John Endicott, "a man well known to divers persons ofnote" and a native of Dorchester, where he was born in 1588, to take anactive part in developing the new Colonies, and mainly through theinfluence of White a patent was obtained from the Council on March 19th, 1628, by which the Crown "bargained and sold unto some Knights andGentlemen about Dorchester, whose names included that of John Endicott, that part of New England lying between the Merrimac River and theCharles River on Massachusetts Bay. "

At the time this "bargain" was made very little was known about America, which was looked upon as a kind of desert or wilderness, nor had theCouncil any idea of the extent of territory lying between the tworivers. This ultimately became of immense value, as it included the siteon which the great town of Boston, U. S. A. , now stands--a town that wasfounded by pilgrims from Boston in Lincolnshire with whom John White wasin close contact. 

John Endicott sailed from Weymouth in the ship _Abigail_, Henry Gauder, Master, with full powers to act for the Company. The new Dorchester wasfounded, and soon afterwards four "prudent and honest men" went out fromit and founded Salem. John White procured a patent and royal charter forthem also, which was sealed on March 4th, 1629. It seemed the irony offate that on the same day 147 years afterwards Washington should openfire upon Boston from the Dorchester heights in the American War ofIndependence. 

A second Dorchester was founded in America, probably by settlers fromthe second Dorchester in England--a large village near which we hadpassed as we walked through Oxfordshire, where in the distance could beseen a remarkable hill known as Dorchester Clump. Although it had been aRoman town, the city where afterwards St. Birinus, the Apostle ofWessex, set up his episcopal throne from 634 to 707, the head of the Seeof Wessex, it was now only a village with one long street, and could notcompare with its much larger neighbour in Dorset. Its large ancientchurch, with a fine Jesse window, gave the idea of belonging to a placeonce of much greater size. The "hands across the sea" between the twoDorchesters have never been separated, but the pilgrims now come in theopposite direction, thousands of Americans visiting Dorchester and itsantiquities; we heard afterwards that the American Dorset had beenpresented with one of the tessellated pavements dug up from a Romanvilla in what we might call "Dorchester, Senior, " in England, and that amemorial had been put up in the porch of Dorchester Church inscribed asfollows:

 In this Porch lies the body of the Rev. John White, M. A. , of New College, Oxford. He was born at Christmas 1575. For about forty years he was Rector of this Parish, and also of Holy Trinity, Dorchester. He died here July 21st, 1648. A man of great godliness, good scholarship, and wonderful ability. He had a very strong sway in this town. He greatly forwarded the migration to the Massachusetts Bay Colony, where his name lives in unfading remembrance. 

[Illustration: STATUE OF WILLIAM BARNES. ]

Another clergyman, named William Barnes, who was still living, hadbecome famous by writing articles for the _Gentleman's Magazine_ andpoems for the _Dorset County Chronicle_, and had published a book in1844 entitled _Poems of Rural Life in Dorset Dialect_, some of whichwere of a high order. They were a little difficult for us to understandreadily, for these southern dialects did not appeal to us. After he dieda statue was erected to his memory, showing him as an aged clergymanquaintly attired in caped cloak, knee-breeches, and buckled shoes, witha leather satchel strung over his shoulder and a stout staff in hishand. One of his poems referred to a departed friend of his, and a versein it was thought so applicable to himself that it was inscribed on hismonument:

 Zoo now I hope this kindly feäce Is gone to find a better pleäce; But still wi vo'k a-left behind He'll always be a-kept in mind. 

Thomas Hardy, the founder of Rochester Grammar School in 1569, was theancestor of Admiral Hardy, Nelson's flag-captain, who received the greathero in his arms when the fatal shot was fired at Trafalgar, and whosemonument we could see on Blackdown Hill in the distance. Not the leastdistinguished of this worthy family is Thomas Hardy, the brilliantauthor of the famous series of West-country novels, the first of whichwas published in 1872, the year after our visit. 

Our next stage was Bridport, and we had been looking forward to seeingthe sea for some time past, as we considered it would be an agreeablechange from the scenery of the lonely downs. We passed by WinterbourneAbbas on our way, and the stone circle known as the "Nine Stones. " Thename Winterbourne refers to one of those ancient springs common in chalkdistricts which burst out suddenly in great force, usually in winterafter heavy autumn rains, run for a season, and then as suddenlydisappear. 

[Illustration: BRIDPORT. ]

Bridport was an important place even in the time of Edward theConfessor, when it contained 120 houses and a priory of monks. It wasthe birthplace of Giles de Bridport, the third Bishop of Salisbury, whose fine tomb we had seen in that cathedral, and who died in 1262; ofhim Leland wrote, "he kivered the new Cathedral Church of Saresbyriethroughout with lead. " In the time of the Plantagenet kings Bridport wasnoted for its sails and ropes, much of the cordage and canvas for thefleet fitted out to do battle with the Spanish Armada being made here. Flax was then cultivated in the neighbourhood, and the rope-walks, wherethe ropes were made, were in the streets, which accounted for some ofthe streets being so much wider than others. Afterwards the goods weremade in factories, the flax being imported from Rusfia. 

We did not quite reach the sea that night, as it was a mile or twofarther on; but we put up at the "Bull Hotel, " and soon discovered wehad arrived at a town where nearly all the men for ages had beendestined for the army or navy, and consequently had travelled to allparts of the world--strong rivals to the Scots for the honour of beingfound sitting on the top of the North Pole if ever that were discovered. 

King Charles II was nearly trapped here when he rode into the town incompany with a few others and put up at the "George Inn. " The yard ofthe inn was full of soldiers, but he passed unnoticed, as they werepreparing for an expedition to the Channel Islands. Charles received aprivate message that he was not safe, and that he was being pursued, andhe and his friends hastily departed along the Dorchester road. Fortunately Lord Wilton came up, and advised them to turn down a smalllane leading to Broadwindsor, where Charles was immediately secreted; itwas lucky for him, as the pursuing party passed along the Dorchesterroad immediately afterwards, and he would certainly have been takenprisoner if he had gone there. A large stone was afterwards placed atthe corner of Lea Lane, where he turned off the high road, and stillremained there to commemorate that event, which happened on September23rd, 1651. 

One Sunday morning in 1685 about three hundred soldiers arrived in thetown from Lyme Regis, where the Duke of Monmouth had landed on hisunfortunate expedition to seize the crown of his uncle James II. Theywere opposed by the Dorset Militia and fired upon from the windows ofthe "Bull Inn, " where we were now staying, being eventually forced toretire. 

In still later years Bridport was kept alive in anticipation of thehourly-expected invasion of England by the great Napoleon, who hadprepared a large camp at Boulogne, the coast of Dorset being consideredthe most likely place for him to land. 

(_Distance walked thirty miles_. )

_Friday, November 10th. _

We left the "Bull Hotel" a little before daylight this morning, as wehad a long walk before us, and in about half an hour we reached BridportQuay, where the river Brit terminates in the sea, now lying before us inall its beauty. There were a few small ships here, with the usual knotof sailors on the quay; but the great object of interest was known asthe Chesil Bank, "one of the most wonderful natural formations in theworld. " Nothing of the kind approaching its size existed elsewhere inEurope, for it extended from here to Portland, a distance of sixteenmiles, and we could see it forming an almost straight line until itreached Portland, from which point it had been described as a rope ofpebbles holding Portland to the mainland. The Bank was composed of whiteflint pebbles, and for half its distance from the Portland end, an inletfrom the sea resembling a canal, and called "the Fleet, " passed betweenthe land and the Bank, which was here only 170 to 200 yards wide: raisedin the centre and sloping down to the water on either side. The pebblesat the Bridport end of the Bank were very small, but at the Portland endthey were about three inches in diameter, increasing in size sogradually that in the dark the fishermen could tell where they hadlanded by the size of the pebbles. The presence of these stones had longpuzzled both British and foreign savants, for there were no rocks ofthat nature near them on the sea-coast, and the trawlers said therewere no pebbles like them in the sea. Another mystery was why theyvaried in size in such a remarkable manner. One thing was certain: theyhad been washed up there by the gigantic waves that rolled in at timeswith terrific force from the Atlantic; and after the great storms hadswept over the Bank many curious things had been found, including alarge number of Roman coins of the time of Constantine, mediæval coinsand antique rings, seals, plates, and ingots of silver andgold--possibly some of them from the treasure-ships of the SpanishArmada, which were said to have been sunk in the Bay. Geologists willexplain anything. They now assert that the Bank is the result of tidalcurrents which sweep along the coast eastwards--that they have destroyedbeds in the cliff containing such pebbles, and as the current losesstrength so the bigger and heavier stones are dropped first and thesmaller only reach the places where the current disappears. 

[Illustration: CHESIL BEACH, PORTLAND. ]

This portion of the sea, known as the West Bay, was the largestindentation on the coast, and on that account was doubly dangerous toships caught or driven there in a storm, especially before the time whensteam was applied to them, and when the constant traffic through theChannel between Spain and Spanish Flanders furnished many victims, forin those days the wrecks were innumerable. Strange fish and otherproducts of the tropical seas had drifted hither across the Atlanticfrom the West Indies and America, and in the fishing season the finwhale, blue shark, threshers and others had been caught, also the sunfish, boar fish, and the angler or sea-devil. Rare mosses and lichens, with agates, jaspers, coloured flints and corals, had also been found onthe Chesil Bank; but the most marvellous of all finds, and perhaps thatof the greatest interest, was the Mermaid, which was found there in June1757. It was thirteen feet long, and the upper part of it had someresemblance to the human form, while the lower part was like that of afish. The head was partly like that of a man and partly like that of ahog. Its fins resembled hands, and it had forty-eight large teeth ineach jaw, not unlike those in the jaw-bone of a man. Just fancy one ofour Jack-tars diving from the Chesil Bank and finding a mate like thatbelow! But we were told that diving from that Bank into the sea wouldmean certain death, as the return flows from the heavy swell of theAtlantic which comes in here, makes it almost impossible for thestrongest swimmer to return to the Bank, and that "back-wash" in a stormhad accounted for the many shipwrecks that had occurred there in oldentimes. 

From where we stood we could see the Hill and Bill of Portland, in therear of which was the famous Breakwater, the foundation-stone of whichhad been laid by the Prince Consort, the husband of Queen Victoria, morethan twenty years previously, and although hundreds of prisoners fromthe great convict settlement at Portland had been employed upon the workever since, the building of it was not yet completed. 

The stone from the famous quarries at Portland, though easily worked, isof a very durable nature, and has been employed in the great publicbuildings in London for hundreds of years. Inigo Jones used most of itin the building of the Banqueting Hall at Whitehall, and Sir ChristopherWren in the reconstruction of St. Paul's Cathedral after the Great Fire, while it had also been used in the building of many churches andbridges. 

We had expected to find a path along the cliffs from Bridport Quay toLyme Regis, but two big rocks, "Thorncombe Beacon" and "Golden Cap, " hadevidently prevented one from being made, for though the Golden Cap wasonly about 600 feet above sea-level it formed the highest elevation onthe south coast. We therefore made the best of our way across thecountry to the village of Chideoak, and from there descended intoCharmouth, crossing the river Char at the entrance to that village ortown by a bridge. On the battlement of this bridge we found a similarinscription to that we had seen at Sturminster, warning us that whoeverdamaged the bridge would be liable to be "transported for life, " byorder of King George the Fourth. "

Charmouth had been one of the Roman stations and the scene of thefiercest battles between the Saxons and the Danes in 833 and 841, in thereigns of Egbert and Ethelwolf, in which the Danes appeared to have beenvictorious, as they were constantly being reinforced byfellow-countrymen arriving by sea. But these were practically forgotten, the memories of them having been replaced in more modern times by eventsconnected with the Civil War and with the wanderings of "PrinceCharles, " the fugitive King Charles II. What a weary and anxious time hemust have had during the nineteen days he spent in the county of Dorset, in fear of his enemies and watching for a ship by which he could escapefrom England, while soldiers were scouring the county to find him!

[Illustration: HOUSE WHERE KING CHARLES LODGED IN CHARMOUTH. ]

He wrote a _Narrative_, in which some of his adventures were recorded, and from which it appeared that after the Battle of Worcester and hisescape to Boscobel, where the oak tree in which he hid himself was stillto be seen, he disguised himself as a manservant and rode before a ladynamed Mrs. Lane, in whose employ he was supposed to be, while LordWilton rode on in front. They arrived at a place named Trent, a villageon the borders of Somerset and Dorset, and stayed at the house of FrankWyndham, whom Charles described in his _Narrative_ as a "very honestman, " and who concealed him in "an old well-contrived secret place. "When they arrived some of the soldiers from Worcester were in thevillage, and Charles wrote that he heard "one trooper telling the peoplethat he had killed me, and that that was my buff coat he had on, " andthe church bells were ringing and bonfires lighted to celebrate thevictory. The great difficulty was to get a ship, for they had tried toget one at Bristol, but failed. In a few days' time, however, Wyndhamventured to go into Lyme Regis, and there found a boat about to sail forSt. Malo, and got a friend to arrange terms with the owner to take apassenger "who had a finger in the pye at Worcester. " It was arrangedthat the ship should wait outside Charmouth in the Charmouth Roads, andthat the passenger should be brought out in a small boat about midnighton the day arranged. Charles then reassumed his disguise as a maleservant named William Jackson, and rode before Mrs. Connisby, a cousinof Wyndham's, while Lord Wilton again rode on in front. On arrival atCharmouth, rooms were taken at the inn, and a reliable man was engagedwho at midnight was to be at the appointed place with his boat to takethe Prince to the ship. 

Meantime the party were anxiously waiting at the inn; but it afterwardsappeared that the man who had been engaged, going home to change hislinen, confided to his wife the nature of his commission. This alarmedher exceedingly, as that very day a proclamation had been issuedannouncing dreadful penalties against all who should conceal the Princeor any of his followers; and the woman was so terrified that when herhusband went into the chamber to change his linen she locked the door, and would not let him come out. Charles and his friends were greatlydisappointed, but they were obliged to make the best of it, and stayedat the inn all night. Early in the morning Charles was advised to leave, as rumours were circulating in the village; and he and one or two othersrode away to Bridport, while Lord Wilton stayed at the inn, as his horserequired new shoes. He engaged the ostler at the inn to take his horseto the smithy, where Hamnet the smith declared that "its shoes had beenset in three different counties, of which Worcestershire was one. " Theostler stayed at the inn gossiping about the company, hearing how theyhad sat up with their horses saddled all the night, and so on, until, suspecting the truth, he left the blacksmith to shoe the horse, and wentto see the parson, whom Charles describes as "one Westly, " to tell himwhat he thought. But the parson was at his morning prayers, and was so"long-winded" that the ostler became tired of waiting, and fearing lesthe should miss his "tip" from Lord Wilton, hurried back to the smithywithout seeing the parson. After his lordship had departed, Hamnet thesmith went to see Mr. Westly--who by the way was an ancestor of John andCharles Wesley--and told him the gossip detailed to him by the ostler. So Mr. Westly came bustling down to the inn, and accosting the landladysaid: "Why, how now, Margaret! you are a Maid of Honour now. "

"What mean you by that, Mr. Parson?" said the landlady. 

"Why, Charles Stewart lay last night at your house, and kissed you athis departure; so that now you can't be but a Maid of Honour!"

Margaret was rather vexed at this, and replied rather hastily, "If Ithought it was the King, I should think the better of my lips all thedays of my life; and so you, Mr. Parson, get out of my house!"

Westly and the smith then went to a magistrate, but he did not believetheir story and refused to take any action. Meantime the ostler hadtaken the information to Captain Macey at Lyme Regis, and he started offin pursuit of Charles; but before he reached Bridport Charles hadescaped. The inn at Charmouth many years afterwards had been convertedinto a private house, but was still shown to visitors and described asthe house "where King Charles the Second slept on the night of September22nd, 1652, after his flight from the Battle of Worcester, " and thelarge chimney containing a hiding-place was also to be seen there. 

[Illustration: OMBERSLEY VILLAGE: "THE KING'S ARMS, " WHERE CHARLES IIRESTED DURING HIS FLIGHT AFTER THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER, 1652. ]

Prince Charles and some friends stood on the tower of WorcesterCathedral watching the course of the battle, and when they saw they hadlost the day they rushed down in great haste, and mounting their horsesrode away as fast as they could, almost blocking themselves in thegateway in their hurry. When they reached the village of Ombersley, about ten miles distant, they hastily refreshed themselves at the oldtimber-built inn, which in honour of the event was afterwards named the"King's Arms. " The ceiling, over the spot where Charles stood, is stillornamented with his coat of arms, including the fleur-de-lys of France, and in the great chimney where the smoke disappears above the ingle-nookis a hiding-place capable of holding four men on each side of thechimney, and so carefully constructed that no one would ever dream thata man could hide there without being smothered by the smoke. The smoke, however, is drawn by the draught past the hiding-place, from which therewould doubtless be a secret passage to the chamber above, which extendedfrom one side of the inn to the other. In a glass case there was at thetime of our visit a cat and a rat--the rat standing on its hind legs andfacing the cat--but both animals dried up and withered like leather, until they were almost flat, the ribs of the cat showing plainly on itsskin. The landlord gave us their history, from which it appeared that ithad become necessary to place a stove in a back kitchen and to make anentrance into an old flue to enable the smoke from the stove-pipe to becarried up the large chimney. The agent of the estate to which the innbelonged employed one of his workmen, nicknamed "Holy Joe, " to do thework, who when he broke into the flue-could see with the light of hiscandle something higher up the chimney. He could not tell what it was, nor could the landlord, whom "Joe" had called to his assistance, but itwas afterwards discovered to be the cat and the rat that now reposed inthe glass case. It was evident that the rat had been pursued by the catand had escaped by running up the narrow flue, whither it had beenfollowed by the cat, whose head had become jammed in the flue. The rathad then turned round upon its pursuer, and was in the act of springingupon it when both of them had been instantly asphyxiated by the fumes inthe chimney. 

With the exception of some slight damage to the rat, probably caused inthe encounter, they were both almost perfect, and an expert who hadexamined them declared they must have been imprisoned there quite ahundred years before they could have been reduced to the condition inwhich they were found by "Holy Joe"!

The proprietors of the hostelries patronised by royalty always made asmuch capital out of the event as possible, and even the inn at Charmouthdisplayed the following advertisement after the King's visit:

 Here in this House was lodged King Charles. Come in, Sirs, you may venture; For here is entertainment good For Churchman or Dissenter. 

[Illustration: MISS MARY ANNING. ]

We thought we had finished with fossils after leaving Stromness in theOrkney Islands and trying to read the names of those deposited in themuseum there, but we had now reached another "paradise for geologists, "this time described as a "perfect" one; we concluded, therefore, thatwhat the Pomona district in the Orkneys could not supply, or what HughMiller could not find there, was sure to be found here, as we read that"where the river Char filtered into the sea the remains of Elephants andRhinoceros had been found. " But we could not fancy ourselves searching"the surrounding hills for ammonites and belemnites, " although we wereassured that they were numerous, nor looking along the cliffs for suchthings as "the remains of ichthyosaurus, plesiosaurus, and othergigantic saurians, which had been discovered there, as well aspterodactyles, " for my brother declared he did not want to carry anymore stones, his adventure in Derbyshire with them being still fresh onhis mind. We therefore decided to leave these to more learned people, who knew when they had found them; but, like Hugh Miller with hisfamous Asterolepis, a young lady named Mary Anning, who was described as"the famous girl geologist, " had, in 1811, made a great discovery hereof a splendid ichthyosaurus, which was afterwards acquired for thenation and deposited in the British Museum. 

[Illustration: HEAD OF THE ICHTHYOSAURUS. ]

Charmouth practically consisted of one long street rising up the hillfrom the river, and on reaching the top after getting clear of the townwe had to pass along a curved road cut deeply through the rock tofacilitate coach traffic. In stormy weather the wind blew through thiscutting with such terrific fury that the pass was known as the "Devil'sBellows, " and at times even the coaches were unable to pass through. Theroad now descended steeply on the other side, the town of Lyme Regisspread out before us, with its white houses and the blue sea beyond, offering a prospect that dwelt in our memories for many years. No townin all England is quite like it, and it gave us the impression that ithad been imported from some foreign country. In the older part of thetown the houses seemed huddled together as if to protect each other, andmany of them adjoined the beach and were inhabited by fishermen, while anewer and larger class of houses was gradually being built on the hillwhich rose rather abruptly at the rear of what might be called the oldtown. 

[Illustration: REMAINS OF ICHTHYOSAURUS DISCOVERED AT CHARMOUTH. ]

A curious breakwater called the Cobb stretches out a few hundred yardsinto the sea. This was originally built in the time of Edward I as ashelter for the boats in stormy weather, but was destroyed by a heavysea in the reign of Edward III, who allowed a tax to be levied on allgoods imported and exported, the proceeds to be applied towards therebuilding of the Cobb. 

[Illustration: DUKE OF MONMOUTH. ]

After the death of Charles II his place was filled by his brother, whoascended the throne as James II; but Charles had a natural son, James, the Duke of Monmouth, who had been sent abroad, but who now claimed theEnglish crown. On June 11th, 1685, the inhabitants of Lyme were alarmedby the appearance of three foreign ships which did not display anyflags. They were astonished to find that it was an expedition fromHolland, and that James, Duke of Monmouth, had arrived to lead arebellion against his uncle, James II. The Duke landed on the Cobb, which at that time did not join the shore, so that he could not step onshore without wetting his legs; but Lieut. Bagster of the Royal Navy, who happened to be in a boat close by, jumped into the water andpresented his knee, upon which the Duke stepped and so reached the shorewithout inconvenience. Monmouth then turned to Lieut. Bagster, andfamiliarly striking him on the shoulder, said, "Brave young man, youwill join me!" But Bagster replied, "No, sir! I have sworn to be true tothe King, and no consideration shall move me from my fidelity. " Monmouththen knelt down on the beach and thanked God for having preserved thefriends of liberty and pure religion from the perils of the sea, andimplored the Divine blessing on what was to be done by land. He wasreceived with great rejoicings in Lyme, where there was a strongProtestant element, and many joined his standard there, including DanielDefoe, the author of _Robinson Crusoe_, then only twenty-four years ofage. As the people generally had no grievance against James II, Monmouth's rebellion failed from want of support, and although he raisedan army of 5, 000 men by the time he reached Sedgmoor, in Somerset, hewas there defeated and taken prisoner by the King's army, and beheadedin the same year. Defoe appears to have escaped capture, but twelvelocal followers of Monmouth were hanged afterwards on the Cobb at LymeRegis. After Monmouth's execution a satirical ballad was printed andhawked about the streets of London, entitled "The Little King of Lyme, "one verse being:

 Lyme, although a little place, I think it wondrous pretty; If 'tis my fate to wear a crown I'll make of it a city. 

We had a look through the old church, and saw a stained-glass windowwhich had been placed there in 1847 to the memory of Mary Anning, forthe services rendered by her to science through her remarkable discoveryof fossils in the cliffs of Lyme. There were also some chained books inthe church, one of which was a copy of the Breeches Bible, published in1579, and so called because the seventh verse in the third chapter ofGenesis was rendered, "The eyes of them bothe were opened . . . And theysowed figge-tree leaves together, and made themselves breeches. "

We passed from Dorsetshire into Devonshire as we walked up the hillloading from Lyme Regis, and we had a fine view when we reached thesummit of the road at Hunter's Cross, where four roads meet. Here we sawa flat stone supposed to have been the quoin of a fallen cromlech, andto have been used for sacrificial purposes. From that point a sharp walksoon brought us to the River Axe and the town of Axminster. 

In the time of the Civil War the district between Lyme Regis andAxminster appears to have been a regular battle-field for the contendingparties, as Lyme Regis had been fortified in 1643 and taken possessionof by Sir Walter Erie and Sir Thomas Trenchard in the name of theParliament, while Axminster was in the possession of the Royalists, wholooked upon the capture of Lyme as a matter of the highest importance. In 1644 Prince Maurice advanced from Axminster with an army of nearlyfive thousand Royalists and cannon and attacked Lyme from the higher endof that town; but although they had possession of many fortifiedmansions which acted as bases or depots they were defeated again andagain. The inhabitants of the town were enthusiastic about what theyconsidered to be the Protestant cause, and even the women, as in otherplaces, fought in male attire side by side with the men, to make theenemy think they had a greater number opposed to them. The lion's shareof the defence fell to the lot of Captain Davey, who, from his fortworked his guns with such amazing persistence that the enemy weredismayed, while during the siege the town was fed from the sea by shipswhich also brought ammunition and stores. After righting for nearly twomonths and losing two thousand of his men Prince Maurice retired. Thecannon-balls that he used, of which some have been found since that timeon or near the shore, and in the outskirts of the town, weighed 17-1/2lb. 

One of the defenders was Robert Blake, the famous Admiral, whoafterwards defeated the Dutch in a great battle off Portland. He died inhis ship at Portsmouth, and his body was taken to Greenwich andafterwards embalmed and buried in Westminster Abbey. But Charles IIremembered the part Blake had taken in the defeat of the Royalist forcesat Lyme Regis, and ordered his ashes to be raked from the grave andscattered to the winds. 

As may be imagined, in the fights between the two parties thecountry-people suffered from depredations and were extensively plunderedby both sides. This was referred to in a political song entitled "TheWest Husbandman's Lamentations, " which, in the dialect then prevailing, voices the complaint of a farmer who lost six oxen and six horses:

 Ich had zix Oxen t'other day, And them the Roundheads vetcht away-- A mischief be their speed! And chad zix Horses left me whole. And them the Cabballeeroes stole, Chee vore men be agreed. 

We were rather disappointed when we arrived at Axminster, for, havingoften heard of Axminster carpets, we expected to find factories therewhere they made them, but we found that industry had been given up formany years. We saw the factory where they were formerly made, and hearda lot about Mr. Whitty, the proprietor. He had made two beautifulcarpets, and exhibited them in London before sending them to a customerabroad who had ordered them. They were despatched on board a ship fromthe Thames, which did not arrive at its destination and was never heardof afterwards. One of these carpets was described to us as being justlike an oil painting representing a battle scene. The carpets were madein frames, a woman on each side, and were worked with a needle in amachine. We saw the house where Mr. Whitty formerly resided, the factorybeing at one end of it, while at the back were his dye-works, where, bya secret method, he dyed in beautiful tints that would not fade. Thepile on the carpets was very long, being more like that on Turkeycarpets, so that when the ends were worn they could be cut off with amachine and then the carpet appeared new again. Mr. Whitty neverrecovered from the great loss of the two carpets, and he died withoutrevealing his secret process even to his son. The greater part of theworks was burnt down on Trinity Sunday, 1834, and though some portionwas rebuilt, it was never again used for making Axminster carpets, whichwere afterwards made at Wilton, to which place the looms were removed in1835; the industry, started in 1755, had existed at Axminster for eightyyears. 

King Athelstan founded a college here in commemoration of the Battle ofBrunnenburh, fought in 937, in which fell five kings and seven earls. The exact site of this battle did not appear to have been located, though this neighbourhood scarcely had more substantial claims to itthan the place we passed through in Cumberland. 

Axminster took its name from the river Axe, which passes near the town, and falls into the sea at Axemouth, near Seaton; the name Axe, as wellas Exe and Usk, is Celtic and signifies water--all three being the namesof rivers. There was not much left of Axminster at the end of the CivilWar, except the church, for most of the buildings had been burnt down. Aletter written on November 21st, 1644, by a trooper from Lyme Regis tohis parents in London contained the following passage:

 Hot newes in these parts: viz. , the 15th of this present November wee fell upon Axminster with our horse and foote, and through God's mercie beat them off their works, insomuch that wee possessed of the towne, and they betook them to the Church, which, they had fortified, on which wee were loath to cast our men, being wee had a garrison to look on. My brother and myselfe were both there. We fired part of the towne, what successe we had you may reade by the particulars here inclosed. Wee lost only one man in the taking of the towne, and had five wounded. The Monday following wee marched to Axminster againe. Major Sydenham having joyned with us that Lordis Day at night before, thinking to have seized on the Church, and those forces that were in it, but finding them so strong, as that it might indanger the loss of many of our men, wee thought it not fit to fall upon the Church, but rather to set the houses on fire that were not burnt at the first firing, which accordingly we did, and burnt doune the whole toune, unlease it were some few houses, but yet they would not come forth out of the Church. 

When Prince Charles, afterwards Charles II, was defeated at Worcester, it was only natural that he should go amongst his friends forprotection, and a curious story was told here about his narrow escapefrom his pursuers in this neighbourhood. He had stayed a short time withthe Wyndham family, near Chard, when news came that his pursuers were onhis track, and that no time must be lost, so he was sent to Coaxden, twomiles from Axminster, to take refuge with the Cogan family, relatives ofthe Colonel Wyndham who took a leading part in securing his saferetreat. He had only just gone when the soldiers arrived and insistedupon looking through the house and searching it thoroughly; even a younglady they met in the house was suspected of being the King in disguise, and it was with some difficulty that they were persuaded otherwise. Theyexamined every room and linen chest, and then departed in full chasetowards the south. Meanwhile, Charles had arrived at Coaxden, andentering the parlour, where Mrs. Cogan was sitting alone, threw himselfupon her protection. It was then the fashion for ladies to wear verylong dresses, and as no time was to be lost, the soldiers being on hisheels, she hastily concealed him beneath the folds of her dress. Mrs. Cogan was in her affections a Royalist, but her husband, who was thenout upon his estate, belonged to the opposite party. Observing theapproach of the soldiers, he made towards the house, and together theyentered the room where the lady was sitting, who affected surprise attheir intrusion. The men immediately announced their business, statingthat Prince Charles had been traced very near the house, and as he mustbe concealed upon the premises, they were authorised to make a strictsearch for him. Assenting with apparent readiness to their object, Mrs. Cogan kept her seat, whilst her husband accompanied the men into everyroom. At length, having searched the premises in vain, they took theirdeparture, Mr. Cogan going out with them. Being now released from hersingular and perilous situation, the lady provided for the security ofthe fugitive until it was prudent for him to depart, when, furnishedwith provisions and a change of apparel, he proceeded on his journey toTrent, and after further adventures, from thence to Brighthelmstone, then a poor fishing town, where he embarked for France. After he hadreached the Continent Charles rewarded the lady's fidelity by sendingher a handsome gold chain and locket having his arms on the reverse, which was long preserved in the family. 

There was a curious stone in the churchyard at Axminster placed over theremains of a crippled gentleman whose crutches were buried with him, acopy of them being carved on the stone. He was the father of WilliamBuckland, the eminent geologist, who was Dean of Westminster and died in1856. 

Our next stage was Honiton, the "town of lace, " and we walked quicklyonwards for about six miles until we reached the foot of Honiton Hill, a considerable elevation which stood between ourselves and that town;and after an upward gradient of a mile or two we gained a fine view bothof the town and the beautiful country beyond, which included DumpdownHill, crowned with an ancient circular camp. 

Several definitions of the word Honiton had been given, but the mostacceptable, and perhaps the correct one and certainly the sweetest, wasthat of the "Honey Town, " originating, it was said, at a time when thehills which surrounded the place were covered with thyme, "sweet to thetaste and fragrant to the smell; and so attractive to the bees thatlarge quantities of honey were produced there. " The bee-farmers even inSaxon times were important personages, for sugar was not imported andhoney was the sweetener for all kinds of food and liquor. Honiton, likemany other towns, largely consisted of one wide street; and DanielDefoe, in his journey from London to Land's End, early in the year 1700, described this "town of lace" as large and beautiful, and "so veryremarkably paved with small pebbles, that on either side the way alittle channel is left shouldered up on the sides of it; so that itholds a small stream of fine running water, with a little squaredipping-place left at every door, so that every family in the town has aclear running river just at their own door; and this so much finer, somuch pleasanter than that of Salisbury, that in my opinion there is nocomparison. " The running streams had now disappeared both here and atSalisbury, but we could quite understand why one was so much better thanthe other, as the water running through Salisbury was practically on thelevel, while that at Honiton ran down the hill and had ample fall. 

Lancashire ideas of manufacturing led us to expect to find a number offactories at Honiton where the lace was made for which the town was sofamous, but we found it was all being worked by hand by women and girls, and in private houses. We were privileged to see some very beautifulpatterns that were being worked to adorn fashionable ladies in Londonand elsewhere. The industry was supposed to have been introduced hereoriginally by Flemish refugees in the fifteenth century, and had beenpatronised by Royalty since the marriage of Queen Charlotte in 1761, whoon that occasion wore a Honiton lace dress, every flower on which wascopied from nature. We were informed by a man who was standing near the"Dolphin Inn, " where we called for tea, that the lace trade was "abigger business before the Bank broke, " but he could not tell us whatbank it was or when it "broke, " so we concluded it must have been alocal financial disaster that happened a long time ago. 

The Roman road from Bath to Exeter passed through Honiton, and theweekly market had been held on each side of that road from timeimmemorial; the great summer fair being also held there on the firstWednesday and Thursday after July 19th. A very old custom was observedon that occasion, for on the Tuesday preceding the fair the town crierwent round the town carrying a white glove on a pole and crying:

 O yes! The Fair is begun, And no man dare to be arrested Until the Fair is done, while on the Friday evening he again went round the town ringing hisbell, to show that the fair was over. The origin of this custom appearedto be shrouded in mystery, as we could get no satisfactory explanation, but we thought that those three days' grace must have served as aninvitation to evil-doers to visit the town. 

The church contained the tomb of Thomas Marwood, who, according to aninscription thereon, "practised Physick and Chirurgery aboveseventy-five years, and being aged above 105 years, departed in yeCatholic Faith September ye 18th Anno Domini 1617. " Marwood becamefamous in consequence of his having--possibly, it was suggested, by pureaccident--cured the Earl of Essex of a complaint that afflicted him, forwhich service he was presented with an estate in the neighbourhood ofHoniton by Queen Elizabeth. 

The "Dolphin Inn" at Honiton was where we made our first practicalacquaintance with the delectable Devonshire clotted cream, renewedafterwards on every possible occasion. The inn was formerly the privatemansion of the Courtenay family, and its sign was one of the familycrests, "a Dolphin embowed" or bent like a bow. This inn had beenassociated with all the chief events of the town and neighbourhoodduring the past three centuries, and occupied a prominent position nearthe market cross on the main road. In January 1688 the inn had beenwilled to Richard Minify, and after his death to his daughter AnnMinify, and it was in that year that William, Prince of Orange, set sailfor England, and landed at Torbay in Devonshire. The advanced guard ofhis army reached Honiton on October 19th, and the commander, ColonelTollemache, and his staff occupied the "Dolphin. " William was verycoldly received by the county families in Devonshire, as they remainedstrongly attached to the Jacobite cause, and to demonstrate theiradhesion to the House of Stuart they planted Scotch fir trees near theirmansions. On the other hand, many of the clergy sympathised with therebellion, and to show their loyalty to the cause they planted avenuesof lime trees from the churchyard gate to the church porch. James II, whom William came to replace, wrote in his memoirs that the events thathappened at Honiton were the turning-point of his fortunes, and it wasat the "Dolphin" that these events culminated, leading to the desertionof the King's soldiers in favour of William. It seemed strange that apopular song set to a popular tune could influence a whole army, andincidentally depose a monarch from his throne. Yet such was the casehere. 

[Illustration: EXAMPLES OF HONITON LACE. From specimens kindly lent byMrs. Fowler, of Honiton. The lower example is a corner of a handkerchiefspecially made for Queen Mary. ]

Lieutenant-General Richard Talbot, who was in Ireland in 1685, hadrecommended himself to his bigoted master, James II, by his arbitrarytreatment of the Protestants in that country, and in the following yearhe was created Earl of Tyrconnel, and, being a furious Papist, wasnominated by the King to the Lord Lieutenancy of Ireland. In 1688 he wasgoing to Ireland on a second expedition at the time that the advancedguard of William of Orange reached Honiton, and when the advanced guardof King James's English army was at Salisbury. It was at this criticalperiod that Lord Wharton, who has been described as "a politicalweathercock, a bad spendthrift, and a poet of some pretensions, " joinedthe Prince of Orange in the Revolution, and published this famous song. He seems to have been a dissolute man, and ended badly, although hewas a visitor at the "Dolphin" at that time, with many distinguishedpersonages. In the third edition of the small pamphlet in which the songwas first published Lord Wharton was described "as a Late Viceroy ofIreland who has so often boasted himself upon his talent for mischief, invention, and lying, and for making a certain 'Lilliburlero' song withwhich, if you will believe himself, he sung a deluded Prince out ofthree kingdoms. " It was said that the music of the song was composed byHenry Purcell, the organist of Westminster Abbey, and contributed not alittle to the success of the Revolution. Be this as it may, Burnet, thenBishop of Salisbury, wrote:

 It made an impression on the King's army that cannot be imagined. . . . The whole army, and at last the people, both in city and country, were singing it perpetually . . . Never had so slight a thing so great an effect. 

Purcell's music generally was much admired, and the music to "LilliBurlero, " which was the name of the song, must have been "taking" and agood tune to march to, for the words themselves would scarcely have hadsuch a momentous result. It was a long time before it died out in thecountry districts, where we could remember the chorus being sung in ourchildhood's days. A copy of the words but not the music appeared inPercy's _Reliques of Ancient English Poetry_:

 Ho! broder Teague, dost hear de decree? Lilli burlero, bullen a-la-- Dat we shall have a new deputie, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. 

 _Chorus_:

 Lero lero, lilli burlero, lero lero, bullen a-la, Lero lero, lilli burlero, lero lero, bullen a-la. 

 Ho! by Shaint Tyburn, it is de Talbote: Lilli burlero, bullen a-la-- And he will cut all de English troate: Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. 

 Dough by my shoul de English do praat, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la-- De law's on dare side, breish knows what: Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. 

 But if dispense do come from de Pope, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la-- We'll hang Magna Charta and dem in a rope: Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. 

 For de good Talbot is made a lord, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la-- And with brave lads is coming a-board: Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. 

 Who in all France have taken a sware, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la-- Dat dey will have no Protestant heir: Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. 

 Ara! but why does he stay behind? Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. Ho! by my shoul 'tis a Protestant wind: Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. 

 But see de Tyrconnel is now come ashore. Lilli burlero, bullen a-la-- And we shall have commissions gillore: Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. 

 And he dat will not go to de mass, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la-- Shall be turn out and look like an ass: Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. 

 Now, now de hereticks all go down, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. By Chrish and Shaint Patrick, de nation's our own: Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. 

 Dare was an old Prophecy found in a bog, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la-- "Ireland shall be rul'd by an ass and a dog": Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. 

 And now dis Prophecy is come to pass, Lilli burlero, bullen a-la-- For Talbot's de dog, and James is de ass: Lilli burlero, bullen a-la. 

 _Chorus after each verse_:

 Lero lero, lilli burlero, lero lero, bullen a-la, Lero lero, lilli burlero, lero lero, bullen a-la. 

Lilliburlero and Bullen a-la were said to have been words of distinctionused among the Irish Papists in their massacre of the Protestants in1641--a massacre which gave renewed strength to the traditions whichmade the name of Bloody Mary so hated in England. 

In 1789 George III halted opposite the "Dolphin" to receive the loyalgreetings of the townspeople, and on August 3rd, 1833, the PrincessVictoria, afterwards Queen, stayed there to change horses; the inn wasalso the leading rendezvous at the parliamentary elections when Honitonreturned two members to Parliament. In the eighteenth century the innwas often the temporary home of Sir William Yonge and Sir George Yonge, his equally famous son, and of Alderman Brass Crosby, Lord Mayor ofLondon, each of whom was M. P. For Honiton. The family of Yongepredominated, for whom Honiton appeared to have been a pocket borough, and a very expensive one to maintain, as Sir George Yonge, who was firstreturned in 1754, said in his old age that he inherited £80, 000 fromhis father, that his wife brought him a similar amount, and Governmentalso paid him £80, 000, but Honiton had swallowed it all! A rathernumerous class of voters there were the Potwallers or Potwallopers, whose only qualification was that they had boiled their pots in theparish for six months. Several attempts were made to resist their claimto vote, but they were unsuccessful, and the matter was only terminatedby the Reform Bill of 1832; so possibly Sir George had to provide theinducement whereby the Potwallopers gave the family their support duringthe full term in which he served the free and independent electors ofHoniton in Parliament. 

A hospital for lepers, founded as early as the fourteenth century, wasnow used for the deserving poor; and near the old chapel, attached tothe hospital cottages, the place was pointed out to us where the localfollowers of the Duke of Monmouth who were unfortunate enough to comeunder the judgment of the cruel Judge Jeffreys were boiled in pitch andtheir limbs exhibited on the shambles and other public places. 

We had a comparatively easy walk of sixteen miles to Exeter, as the roadwas level and good, with only one small hill. For the first four mileswe had the company of the small river Otter, which, after passingHoniton, turned here under the highway to Ottery St. Mary, on its coursetowards the sea. The county of Devon is the third largest in England, and having a long line of sea-coast to protect, it was naturally warlikein olden times, and the home of many of our bravest sailors andsoldiers. When there was no foreign enemy to fight they, like the Scots, occasionally fought each other, and even the quiet corner known as theFenny Bridges, where the Otter passed under our road, had been the sceneof a minor battle, to be followed by a greater at a point where theriver Clyst ran under the same road, about four miles from Exeter. Inthe time of Edward VI after the dissolution of the monasteries by HenryVIII changes were made in religious services, which the West-countrypeople were not prepared to accept. On Whit-Sunday, June 9th, 1549, thenew service was read in the church of Sampford Courtenay for the firsttime. The people objected to it, and compelled the priest to say mass asbefore, instead of using the Book of Common Prayer, which had now becomelaw. Many other parishes objected likewise, and a rebellion broke out, of which Humphrey Arundel, the Governor of St. Michael's Mount inCornwall, took the lead. Their army of 10, 000 men marched on to Exeterand besieged it, and they also occupied and fortified Clyst St. Mary andsent up a series of demands to the King. Lord Russell, who had beenglutted with the spoils of the monasteries, and was therefore keen inhis zeal for the new order, was sent with a small force accompanied bythree preachers licensed to preach in such places as Lord Russell shouldappoint; but he was alarmed at the numbers opposed to him, and waited atHoniton until the arrival of more troops should enable him to march tothe relief of Exeter. Being informed that a party of the enemy were onthe march to attack him, Russell left the town to meet them, and foundsome of them occupying Fenny Bridges while the remainder were stationedin the adjoining meadow. He was successful in winning the fight, andreturned to Honiton to recruit. He then attacked the rebels on ClystHeath and defeated them, but it was a hard-fought fight, and "such wasthe valour of these men that the Lord Grey reported himself that henever, in all the wars he had been in, did know the like. " The rebelswere mercilessly butchered and the ringleaders executed--the Vicar ofSt. Thomas' by Exeter, a village we passed through the followingmorning, who was with the rebels, being taken to his church and hangedfrom the tower, where his body was left to dangle for four years. 

We had been walking in the dark for some hours, but the road wasstraight, and as we had practically had a non-stop walk from Honiton wewere ready on our arrival at Exeter for a good supper and bed at one ofthe old inns on the Icknield Way, which, with several churches, almostsurrounded the Cathedral. 

(_Distance walked thirty-eight miles_. )

_Saturday, November 11th. _

Exeter, formerly known as the "City of the West" and afterwards as the"Ever-Faithful City, " was one of the most interesting places we hadvisited. It had occupied a strong strategical position in days gone by, for it was only ten miles from the open sea, sufficient for it to beprotected from sudden attacks, yet the river Exe, on which it issituated, was navigable for the largest ships afloat up to about thetime of the Spanish Armada. Situated in the midst of a fine agriculturalcountry, it was one of the stations of the Romans, and the terminus ofthe ancient Icknield Way, so that an army landed there could easilymarch into the country beyond. Afterwards it became the capital of theWest Saxons, Athelstan building his castle on an ancient earthworkknown--from the colour of the earth or rock of which it was composed--asthe "Red Mound. " His fort, and the town as well, were partiallydestroyed in the year 1003 by the Danes under Sweyn, King of Denmark. Soon after the Norman invasion William the Conqueror built his castle onthe same site--the "Red Mound"--the name changing into the Norman tongueas Rougemont; and when King Edward IV came to Exeter in 1469, in pursuitof the Lancastrian Earls Clarence and Warwick, who escaped by ship fromDartmouth, he was, according to Shakespeare's _Richard III_, courteouslyshown the old Castle of Rougemont by the Mayor. We could not requisitionthe services of his Worship at such an early hour this morning, but weeasily found the ruins of Rougemont without his assistance; though, beyond an old tower with a dungeon beneath it and a small triangularwindow said to be of Saxon workmanship, very little remained. The ruinshad been laid out to the best advantage, and the grounds on the slope ofthe ancient keep had been formed into terraces and planted with flowers, bushes, and trees. As this work had originally been carried out as farback as the year 1612, the grounds claimed to be the oldest publicgardens in England: the avenues of great trees had been planted aboutfifty years later. 

Perkin Warbeck was perhaps one of the most romantic characters whovisited Exeter, for he claimed to be Richard, Duke of York, who, hecontended, was not murdered in the Tower of London, as generallysupposed. As the Duke he claimed to be more entitled to the Crown ofEngland than Henry VII, who was then on the throne, Perkin Warbeck, onthe other hand, was described as the son of a Tournai Jew, but thereseemed to be some doubt about this. In any case the Duchess of Burgundyacknowledged him as "her dear nephew, " and his claim was supported byCharles VIII of France and James IV of Scotland; from the former hereceived a pension, and from the latter the hand of his relative LadyCatherine Gordon in marriage. 

[Illustration: ATHELSTAN'S TOWER. ]

He arrived at Exeter on September 27th, 1497, with 7, 000 men, and afterburning the North Gate he forced his way through the city towards theCastle, but was defeated there by Sir Richard Courtenay, the Earl ofDevon, and taken prisoner. For some mysterious reason it was not untilNovember 3rd, 1499, more than two years after the battle, that he washanged for treason, at Tyburn. Another strange incident was that whenKing Henry VII came to Exeter after the battle, and the followers ofPerkin Warbeck were brought before him with halters round their necksand bare-headed, to plead for mercy, he generously pardoned them and setthem at liberty. 

The fighting in the district we had passed through last night occurredin 1549, the second year of the reign of King Edward VI. A pleasingstory was related of this King, to the effect that when he was a boy andwanted something from a shelf he could not quite reach, his littleplayfellow, seeing the difficulty, carried him a big book to stand upon, that would just have enabled him to get what he wanted; but when Edwardsaw what book it was that he had brought he would not stand upon itbecause it was the "Holy Bible. "

The religious disturbances we have already recorded were not confined tothe neighbourhood of Exeter, but extended all over England, and were theresult of an Act of Parliament for which the people were not prepared, and which was apparently of too sweeping a character, for by it allprivate Masses were abolished, all images removed from churches, and theBook of Common Prayer introduced. It was the agitation against this Actthat caused the 10, 000 Cornish and Devonian men, who were described asrebels, incited also by their priests, to besiege the city of Exeter, and to summon the Mayor and Council to capitulate. This the"Ever-Faithful City" refused to do, and held out for thirty-six days, until Lord Russell and Lord Grey appeared on the scene with the Royalarmy and raised the siege. 

In 1643, during the Civil War, Exeter surrendered to Prince Maurice, thenephew of Charles I, and three years later capitulated to the Army ofthe Parliament on condition that the garrison should march out with allthe honours of war. 

The unhappy wife of Charles I arrived at Exeter in 1644, having a fewdays previously bidden her husband "Good-bye" for the last time, asorrowful parting which we had heard about at Abingdon, where it hadtaken place, and whither Charles had accompanied her from Oxford. Shestayed at Bedford House in Exeter, where she was delivered of adaughter, who was named Henrietta, being baptized in the cathedral in amagnificent new font erected especially for the occasion. The Queen leftthe city on July 14th, and sailed from Falmouth to France, where shestayed at the Court of Louis XIV. Twelve days later the King reachedExeter, and called to see his infant daughter, and he again stayed atBedford House on his return from Cornwall on September 17th, 1645. 

[Illustration: EXETER CATHEDRAL, WEST FRONT. ]

In 1671 Charles II, his son, also passed through Exeter, and stayed toaccept a gift of £500 from the city as a testimony of its loyalty andgratitude for his restoration and return; and the "Merrie Monarch"afterwards sent the city a portrait of his sister, the unfortunateHenrietta, to whom he was passionately attached. As Duchess of Orleansshe had an unhappy life, and her somewhat sudden death was attributed topoison. Her portrait, painted by Lely, was still hanging in theGuildhall, and was highly prized as one of the greatest treasures of thecity. 

We went to see the Cathedral, but were rather disappointed with itsexternal appearance, which seemed dark and dismal compared with that ofSalisbury. A restoration was in progress, and repairs were being carriedout with some light-coloured and clean-looking stone, not of a verydurable nature, which looked quite beautiful when new, but after beingexposed to the weather for a few years would become as dull anddark-looking as the other. The interior of the cathedral, however, wasvery fine, and we were sorry we had not time to explore it thoroughly. Some very old books were preserved in it--the most valuable being aSaxon manuscript called _Codex Exoniensis_, dating from the ninthcentury, and also the _Exeter Domesday_, said to be the exact transcriptof the original returns made by the Commissioners appointed by Williamthe Conqueror at the time of the Survey, from which the great Domesdaywas completed. 

The minstrel gallery dated from the year 1354, and many musicalinstruments used in the fourteenth century were represented by carvingson the front, as being played by twelve angels. The following were thenames of the instruments: cittern, bagpipe, clarion, rebec, psaltery, syrinx, sackbut, regals, gittern, shalm, timbral, and cymbals!

Some of these names, my brother remarked, were not known to modernmusicians, and they would be difficult to harmonise if all theinstruments had to be played at the same time; his appreciation of thebagpipe was doubtless enhanced, seeing that it occupied the secondposition. 

The cathedral also possessed a marvellous and quaint-looking clock somehundreds of years old, said to have been the production of that famousmonk of Glastonbury who made the wonderful clock in Wells Cathedral, which on striking the hour sets in motion two armoured figures ofknights on horseback, armed with spears, who move towards each other ina circle high above the central arches, as if engaged in a tournament. 

The clock at Exeter showed the hour of the day and the age of the moon, and upon the face or dial were two circles, one marked from 1 to 30 forthe days of the month, and the other figured I to XII twice over for thehours. In the centre was a semi-globe representing the earth, roundwhich was a smaller ball, the moon, painted half gold and half black, which revolved during each month, and in turning upon its axis showedthe various phases of the luminary that it represented. Between the twocircles was a third ball representing the sun, with a fleur-de-lys whichpointed to the hours as the sun, according to the ancient theory, dailyrevolved round the earth; underneath was an inscription relating to thehours:

 PEREUNT ET IMPUTANTUR (They pass, and are placed to our account. )

The notes telling the hours were struck upon the rich-toned bell named"Great Peter, " which was placed above, the curfew or _couvre-feu_("cover-fire") being also rung upon the same bell. 

The curfew bell was formerly sounded at sunset, to give notice that allfires and lights must be extinguished. It was instituted by William theConqueror and continued during the reign of William Rufus, but wasabolished as a "police regulation" in the reign of Henry I. The customwas still observed in many places, and we often heard the sound of thecurfew bell, which was almost invariably rung at eight o'clock in theevening. The poet Gray commences his "Elegy written in a CountryChurchyard" with--

 The curfew tolls the knell of parting day;

and one of the most popular dramatic pieces in the English language, written by an American schoolgirl born in 1850, was entitled "The CurfewBell. " She described how, in Cromwell's time, a young Englishwoman, whose sweetheart was doomed to die that night at the tolling of thecurfew bell, after vainly trying to persuade the old sexton not to ringit, prevented it by finding her way up the tower to the belfry andholding on to the tongue of the great bell. Meanwhile the old sexton whohad told her "the curfew bell _must_ ring tonight" was pulling thebell-rope below, causing her to sway backwards and forwards in danger oflosing her life while murmuring the words "Curfew shall _not_ ringto-night":

 O'er the distant hills comes Cromwell. Bessie sees him; and her brow, Lately white with sickening horror, has no anxious traces now. At his feet she tells her story, shows her hands all bruised and torn; And her sweet young face, still haggard with the anguish it had worn, Touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eyes with misty light. "Go! Your lover lives!" cried Cromwell. "Curfew shall not ring to-night!"

 Wide they flung the massive portals, led the prisoner forth to die, All his bright young life before him. 'Neath the darkening English sky Bessie came, with flying footsteps, eyes aglow with love-light sweet; Kneeling on the turf beside him, laid his pardon at his feet. In his brave, strong arms he clasped her, kissed the face upturned and white, Whispered: "Darling, you have saved me; curfew will not ring to-night!"

The "Great Peter" bell was presented to Exeter Cathedral in thefifteenth century by Bishop Peter Courtenay, and when re-cast in 1676weighed 14, 000 lb. , being then considered the second largest bell inEngland. The curfew was tolled on "Great Peter" every night at eighto'clock, and after that hour had been sounded and followed by a shortpause, the same bell tolled the number of strokes correspending with theday of the month. This was followed by another short pause, and theneight deliberate strokes were tolled. 

Ever since the time of William the Conqueror there appeared to have beentoo many churches in Exeter, for it was said that thirty-two were knownto have existed at the time of the Conquest, and that in the year 1222the Bishop reduced the number to nineteen, of which sixteen stillremained at the time of our visit, while the sites of the remainingthree could be located. A further effort to reduce the number was madein the time of the Commonwealth, when an Act was passed to reduce themto four, but the accession of King Charles II prevented this from beingcarried out. 

One of the old churches stood at the top of a small elevation known asStepcote Hill, approached by a very narrow street, one half of which waspaved and the other formed into steps leading to the "Church of St. Mary's Steps, " the tower of which displayed a sixteenth-century clock. On the dial appeared the seated figure of King Henry VIII guarded by twosoldiers, one on each side, who strike the hours; they are commonlyknown as "Matthew the Miller and his two sons. "

[Illustration: THE GUILDHALL, EXETER. "We thought the old Guildhall evenmore interesting than the Cathedral. "]

Matthew was a miller who lived in the neighbourhood, and was so regularin his goings out and comings in that the neighbours set their time byhim; but there was no doubt that the figure represented "Old King Hal, "and it seemed strange that the same king should have been associated byone of the poets with a miller who had a mill in our county town ofChester:

 There dwelt a Miller hale and bold Beside the river Dee, He work'd and sang from morn till night, No lark more blithe than he; And this the burden of his song For ever used to be-- "I envy nobody, no, not I, And nobody envies me!"

 "Thou'rt wrong, my friend, " cried Old King Hal "Thou'rt wrong as wrong can be; For could my heart be light as thine I'd gladly change with thee. And tell me now what makes thee sing With voice so loud and free, While I am sad though I'm the King, Beside the river Dee!"

 The Miller smil'd and doff'd his cap, "I earn my bread, " quoth he; "I love my wife, I love my friend, I love my children three; I owe no penny I cannot pay; I thank the river Dee, That turns the mill that grinds the corn To feed my babes and me. "

 "Farewell, " cried Hal, and sighed the while, "Farewell! and happy be-- But say no more, if thou'd be true, That no one envies thee; Thy mealy cap is worth my crown, Thy mill, my kingdom's fee; Such men as thou are England's boast, Oh Miller of the Dee. "

[Illustration: MATTHEW THE MILLER AND HIS TWO SONS. ]

We thought the old Guildhall even more interesting than the Cathedral, the old Icknield Way, which entered the city by the High Street, passingclose to it; and in fact, it seemed as if the Hall, which formed thecentre of the civic life of the city, had encroached upon the street, asthe four huge pillars which supported the front part were standing onthe outside edge of the footpath. These four pillars had the appearanceof great solidity and strength, as also had the building overhead whichthey supported, and which extended a considerable distance to the rear. The massive entrance door, dated 1593, thickly studded with large-headednails, showed that the city fathers in former times had a lively senseof self-protection from troublesome visitors. But the only besiegers nowwere more apparent than real, as the covered footpath formed asubstantial shelter from a passing shower. Behind this a four-lightwindow displayed the Arms of France as well as those of England; therewere also emblazoned in stained glass the arms of the mayors, sheriffs, and recorders from 1835 to 1864. 

The city arms were ratified in 1564, and in the Letters Patent of thatdate they are thus described:

 Uppon a wreathe golde and sables, a demye-lyon gules, armed and langued azure crowned, supportinge a bale thereon a crosse botone golde, mantelled azure doubled argent, and for the supporters two pagassis argent, their houes and mane golde, their winges waney of six argent and azure. 

[Illustration: PRINCESS HENRIETTA. (_From the painting by Lely, in theGuildhall_. )]

The motto "Semper Fidelis" (ever faithful) had been bestowed on the cityby Queen Elizabeth, and Exeter has ever since been described as "TheEver-Faithful City. " There were a number of fine old paintings in theHall, but the one which attracted the most attention was that of thePrincess Henrietta by Sir Peter Lely. In the turret above was hung theold chapel bell, which served as an alarm in case of fire, and bore aninscription in Latin, "Celi Regina me protege queso ruina, " or "O Queenof Heaven, protect me, I beseech thee, from harm. " The insignia case inthe Guildhall contained four maces, two swords of state, a cap ofmaintenance, a mayor's chain and badge, four chains for thesergeants-at-mace, a loving cup, and a salver. The mayor's chain datedfrom 1697. The older sword of the two was given to the city by Edward IVon the occasion of his visit in 1470, "to be carried before the mayor onall public occasions. " The sheath is wrapped in crape, the sword havingbeen put in mourning at the Restoration; it was annually carried in theprocession to the cathedral on the anniversary of the death of Charles Iuntil the year 1859, when the service in commemoration of his death wasremoved from the Prayer-Book. The other sword was given to the city byHenry VII on his visit in 1497, after his victory over Perkin Warbeck, when "he heartily thanked his citizens for their faithful and valuableservice done against the rebels"--promised them the fullness of hisfavour and gave them a sword taken from his own side, and also a cap ofmaintenance, commanding that "for the future in all public places withinthe said city the same should be borne before the mayor, as for a likepurpose his noble predecessor King Edward the Fourth had done. " The capof maintenance was formerly worn by the sword-bearer on ceremonialoccasions, but was now carried on a cushion. The cap was made of blackbeaver, and was preserved inside the embroidered crimson velvet covermade in 1634. The sword of Edward IV was said to be the only existingsword of the early English monarchs. 

[Illustration: THE COMMON SEAL OF EXETER. ]

The beautiful silver chains worn by the sergeants-at-mace with alternatelinks of X and R, standing for Exeter, date from about the year 1500, and were previously worn by the city waits. Exeter is the only city thathas four mace-bearers, and the common seal of the city is one of theoldest in the kingdom, dating from 1170, and still in use. 

The civic ceremonies, and especially those on Assize Sunday, are verygrand affairs. On that occasion the Judges and Corporation attend thecathedral in state. The Judges arrive in the state-coach attired intheir robes and wigs, attended by the county sheriff in uniform, andescorted by trumpeters and a posse of police. The Corporation march fromthe Guildhall, the mayor in his sable robe and the sheriff in purple, attended by their chaplains and the chief city officials in their robes, and accompanied also by the magistrates, aldermen, and councillors. Infront are borne the four maces, Henry VII's sword and the cap ofmaintenance, escorted by the city police. The Judges on their arrival atthe great west door of the cathedral are met by the Bishop and otherdignitaries of the Church in their robes and conducted to their officialplaces in the choir, whilst the beautiful organ peals out the NationalAnthem. 

On the third Tuesday in July a curious custom was observed, as on thatday a large white stuffed glove decorated with flowers was hung in frontof the Guildhall, the townspeople having been duly warned, to the soundof the drum and fife, that the great Lammas Fair, which lasted forthree days, had begun; the glove was then hoisted for the term of thefair. Lammas Day falls on the first day of August, and was in Saxontimes the Feast of First-fruits; sometimes a loaf of bread was given tothe priest in lieu of first-fruit. It seems to have been a similar fairto that described at Honiton, but did not appear to carry with itfreedom from arrest during the term of the fair, as was the case in thattown. 

The records or archives possessed by the city of Exeter are almostcontinuous from the time of Edward I, and have been written and compiledin the most careful manner. They are probably the most remarkable ofthose kept by the various towns or cities in the provinces. They includeno less than forty-nine Royal Charters, the earliest existing being thatgranted by Henry II in the twelfth century, and attested by Thomasà-Becket. A herb (_Acorus calamus_ or sweet sage), which was found inthe neighbourhood of Exeter, was highly prized in former times for itsmedicinal qualities, being used for diseases of the eye and inintermittent fevers. It had an aromatic scent, even when in a driedstate, and its fragrant leaves were used for strewing the floors ofchurches. It was supposed to be the rush which was strewn over the floorof the apartments occupied by Thomas à-Becket, who was consideredluxurious and extravagant because he insisted upon a clean supply daily;but this apparent extravagance was due to his visitors, who were attimes so numerous that some of them were compelled to sit on the floors. It was quite a common occurrence in olden times for corpses to be buriedin churches, which caused a very offensive smell; and it might be tocounteract this that the sweet-smelling sage was employed. We certainlyknew of one large church in Lancashire within the walls of which it wascomputed that 6, 000 persons had been buried. 

It was astonishing how many underground passages we had heard of on ourjourney. What strange imaginations they conjured up in our minds! As sofew of them were now in existence, we concluded that many might havebeen more in the nature of trenches cut on the surface of the land andcovered with timber or bushes; but there were old men in Exeter who werecertain that there was a tunnel between the site of the old castle andthe cathedral, and from there to other parts of the city, and they couldremember some of them being broken into and others blocked up at theends. We were also quite sure ourselves that such tunnels formerlyexisted, but the only one we had actually seen passed between a churchand a castle. It had just been found accidentally in making anexcavation, and was only large enough for one man at a time to creepthrough comfortably. 

There were a number of old inns in Exeter besides the old "Globe, " whichhad been built on the Icknield Way in such a manner as to block thatroad, forming a terminus, as if to compel travellers to patronise theinn; and some of these houses were associated with Charles Dickens whenhe came down from London to Exeter in 1835 to report on Lord JohnRussell's candidature for Parliament for the _Morning Observer_. Theelection was a very exciting one, and the great novelist, it was said, found food for one of his novels in the ever-famous Eatonswill, and theultra-abusive editors. Four years afterwards Dickens leased a cottage atAlphington, a village about a mile and a half away from Exeter, for hisfather and mother, who resided there for three and a half years. Dickensfrequently came to see them, and "Mr. Micawber, " with his ample sealsand air of importance, made a great impression on the people of thevillage. Dickens freely entered into the social life of Exeter, and hewas a regular visitor on these occasions at the old "Turk's Head Inn, "adjoining the Guildhall, where it was said he picked up the "Fat Boy" in_Pickwick_. Mrs. Lupin of the "Blue Dragon" appeared as a character in_Martin Chuzzlewit_, and "Pecksniff" was a local worthy whom he grosslyand unpardonably caricatured. 

[Illustration: "MILE END COTTAGE, " ALPHINGTON. ]

On leaving Exeter we crossed the river by the Exe bridge and followedthe course of that stream on our way to regain the sea-coast, enteringthe suburb of St. Thomas the Apostle, where at a church mentioned in1222 as being "without the walls, " we saw the tower from which the vicarwas hanged for being concerned in the insurrection of 1549. AtAlphington we had pointed out to us the "Mile End Cottage, " formerly theresidence of the parents of Charles Dickens, and then walked on toExminster, expecting from its name to find something interesting, but wewere doomed to disappointment. On the opposite side of the river, however, we could see the quaint-looking little town of Topsham, whichappeared as if it had been imported from Holland, a country which mybrother had visited seven years previously; we heard that the principaltreasures stored in the houses there were Dutch tiles. Ships hadformerly passed this place on their way to Exeter, but about the year1290 Isabella de-Fortibus, Countess of Exeter, having been offended bythe people there, blocked up the river with rocks and stones, therebycompletely obstructing the navigation and doing much damage to the tradeof Exeter. At that time cloths and serges were woven from the wool forwhich the neighbourhood of Exeter was famous, and exported to theContinent, the ships returning with wines and other merchandise; henceExeter was at that time the great wine-importing depot of the country. The weir which thus blocked the river was still known as the "CountessWeir, " and Topsham--which, by the way, unlike Exeter, absolutelybelonged to the Earls of Devon--increased in importance, for ships hadnow to stop there instead of going through to Exeter. The distancebetween the two places is only about four miles, and the difficultyappeared to have been met in the first instance by the construction of astraight road from Exeter, to enable goods to be conveyed between thatcity and the new port. This arrangement continued for centuries, but in1544 a ship canal was made to Topsham, which was extended and enlargedin 1678 and again in 1829, so that Exeter early recovered its formerposition, as is well brought out in the finely-written book of the_Exeter Guild of Merchant Adventurers_, still in existence. Its Charterwas dated June 17th, 1599, and by it Queen Elizabeth incorporatedcertain merchants under the style of "The Governors Consuls, and Societyof the Merchant Adventurers of the Citye and County of Exeter, traffiqueing the Realme of Fraunce and the Dominions of the FrenchKinge. " The original canal was a small one and only adapted for boatscarrying about fifteen tons: afterwards it was enlarged to a depth offifteen feet of water--enough for the small ships of those days--foreven down to Tudor times a hundred-ton boat constituted a man-of-war. This canal made Exeter the fifth port in the kingdom in tonnage, and itclaimed to be the first lock canal constructed in England. Itsimportance gradually declined after the introduction of railways and thedemand for larger ships, and the same causes affected Topsham, itsrival. 

[Illustration: POWDERHAM CASTLE. ]

Leaving Exminster, we had a delightful walk to Powderham, the ancientseat of the Courtenay family, the Earls of Devon, who were descendedfrom Atho, the French crusader. The first of the three branches of thisfamily became Emperors of the West before the taking of Constantinopleby the Turks, the second intermarried with the royal family of France, and the third was Reginald Courtenay, who came to England in thetwelfth century and received honours and lands from Henry II. His familyhave been for six centuries Earls of Devon, and rank as one of the mosthonoured in England. 

We called to see the little church at Powderham, which stood quite nearthe river side, and which, like many others, was built of the dark redsandstone peculiar to the district. There were figures in it of Mosesand Aaron, supposed originally to be placed to guard the two tabletscontaining the Ten Commandments; and there were the remains of an oldscreen, but the panels had suffered so severely that the figures andemblems could not be properly distinguished. There was also under anarch a very old monument, said to be that of the famous Isabellade-Fortibus, Countess of Devon, who died in 1293. She was the sister ofthe last Earl Baldwin de Redvers, and married William de-Fortibus, Earlof Albemarle, in 1282. Her feet rested on a dog, while on either sideher head were two small child-angels, the dog and children beingsupposed to point to her as the heroine of a story recorded in a veryold history of Exeter:

 An inhabitant of the city being a very poor man and having many children, thought himself blessed too much in that kind, wherefore to avoid the charge that was likely to grow upon him in that way absented himself seven years together from his wife. But then returning, she within the space of a year afterwards was delivered of seven male children at a birth, which made the poor man to think himself utterly undone, and thereby despairing put them all in a basket with full intent to have drowned them: but Divine Providence following him, occasioned a lady then within the said city coming at this instant of time in his way to demand of him what he carried in that basket, who replied that he had there whelps, which she desired to see, who, after view perceiving that they were children, compelled the poor man to acquaint her with the whole circumstances, whom, when she had sharply rebuked for such his humanity, presently commanded them all to be taken from him and put to nurse, then to school, and so to the university, and in process of time, being attained to man's estate and well qualified in learning, made means and procured benefices for every one of them. 

The language used in this story was very quaint, and was probably thebest tale related about Isabella, the Countess of Devon; but old"Isaacke, " the ancient writer, in his history remarks that it "willhardly persuade credit. "

We could not learn what became of William her husband; but Isabellaseemed to have been an extremely strong-minded, determined woman, andrather spiteful, for it was she who blocked the river so that the peopleof Exeter, who had offended her, could have neither "fishing norshipping" below the weir. On one occasion, when four important parisheshad a dispute about their boundaries, she summoned all their principalmen to meet her on the top of a swampy hill, and throwing her ring intothe bog told them that where it lay was where the parishes met; theplace is known to this day as "Ring-in-the-Mire. "

We passed by Powderham Castle, and saw some magnificent trees in thepark, and on a wooded hill the Belvedere, erected in 1773. This was atriangular tower 60 feet high, with a hexagonal turret at each cornerfor sight-seeing, and from it a beautiful view over land and sea couldbe obtained. 

With regard to the churches in this part of England, we learned thatwhile Somerset was noted for towers and Cornwall for crosses, thechurches in Devonshire were noted for screens, and nearly every churchwe visited had a screen or traces where one had existed, some of thembeing very beautiful, especially that in Kenton church, which we nowwent to inspect. Farther north the images and paintings on the screens, and even the woodwork, had been badly disfigured, but some of the oldwork in Devon had been well preserved. The screens had been intended toprotect the chancel of the church from the nave, to teach people that onentering the chancel they were entering the most sacred part of thechurch, and images and paintings were placed along the screens. The sameidea, but in another direction, was carried out on the outside of thechurches; for there also the people, scarcely any of whom in those dayscould read or write, were taught, by means of images andhorrible-looking gargoyles worked in stone placed on the outside of thechurch and steeple, that everything vile and wicked was in the worldoutside the church. The beautiful pictures and images inside the churchwere intended to show that everything pure and holy was to be foundwithin: the image of the patron saint being generally placed over thedoorway. 

[Illustration: BELVEDERE TOWER. ]

[Illustration: KENTON CHURCH. ]

The village of Kenton was hidden in a small dell, and possessed avillage green, in the centre of which were the remains of an old cross. The church tower was one hundred feet high, surmounted by an unusuallytall pinnacle at each corner, the figure of a saint appearing in aniche, presumably for protection. Kenton must have been a place of someimportance in early times, for Henry III had granted it an annual fairon the feast of All Saints. The magnificent screen in the church notonly reached across the chancel, but continued across the two transeptsor chapels on either side, and rose in tiers of elaborate carvingtowards the top of the chancel arch. No less than forty of its panelsretained their original pictures of saints and prophets, with scrolls ofLatin inscriptions alternating with verses from the Old Testament andclauses from the Apostles' Creed. Most of the screen wasfifteenth-century work, and it was one of the finest in the county; muchof the work was Flemish. On it were images of saints, both male andfemale, and of some of the prophets, the saints being distinguishable bythe nimbus or halo round their heads, and the prophets by caps andflowing robes after the style of the Jewish costumes in the Middle Ages. There was also a magnificent pulpit of about the same date as thescreen, and so richly designed as to equal any carved pulpit in Europe. It was said to have been carved from the trunk of a single oak tree andornamented in gilt and colours. 

The number of screens in the churches near the sea-coast caused us towonder whether some of them had been brought by sea from Flanders orFrance, as we remembered that our Cheshire hero, and a famous warrior, Sir Hugh de Calveley, who kept up the reputation of our county by eatinga calf at one meal, and who died about the year 1400, had enriched hisparish church with the spoils of France; but the lovely old oakfurniture, with beautifully figured panels, some containing figures ofsaints finely painted, which he brought over, had at a recent"restoration" (?) been taken down and sold at two pounds per cartload!We sincerely hoped that such would not be the fate of the beautiful workat Kenton. 

We now came to Star Cross, a place where for centuries there had been aferry across the River Exe, between the extreme west and east of Devon. The rights of the ferry had formerly belonged to the abbots ofSherborne, who had surmounted the landing-place with a cross, which hadnow disappeared. The ferry leads by a rather tortuous passage of twomiles to Exmouth, a town we could see in the distance across the water;but troublesome banks of sand, one forming a rabbit warren, obstructedthe mouth of the river. We also passed through Cofton, a small villagenoted for its cockles, which the women gathered along the shore in acostume that made them resemble a kind of mermaid, except that the lowerhalf resembled that of a man rather than a fish. About two miles fromCofton was the village of Mamhead, with its obelisk built in 1742, onehundred feet high, on the top of a spur of the Great Haldon Hill. Therector of the church here at one time was William Johnson Temple, oftenmentioned in _Boswell's Life of Johnson_. He was the grandfather ofFrederick Temple, Bishop of Exeter at the time we passed through thatcity, afterwards Bishop of London, and finally Archbishop of Canterbury, to whose harsh voice and common sense we had once listened when he wasaddressing a public meeting in Manchester. In the churchyard at Mamheadwas an enormous yew tree, over eight hundred years old. In 1775, whenBoswell came to see Lord Lisburne at Mamhead Park, and stayed at thevicarage, he was so much impressed by the size and magnificence of thisgreat tree, that he made a vow beneath its great branches "never to bedrunk again"--a vow he soon forgot when he was out of sight of the tree. 

We soon arrived at the pretty little town of Dawlish, and perhaps it wasits unique appearance that gave us the impression that we had reachedanother of the prettiest places we had visited. There we halted forrefreshments and for a hurried excursion in and about the town, as wewere anxious to reach Torquay before night, where we had decided to stayuntil Monday morning. We walked towards the source of the water, whichcomes down from the higher lands in a series of pretty littlewaterfalls, spreading out occasionally into small lakes adorned at thesides with plots of grass and beds of flowers. The name Dawlish, welearned, came from two Cornish words meaning "deep stream, " or, as somehave it, "Devil's Water"; and behind the town on Haldon Hill was the"Devil's Punchbowl, " from which descended the water that passed throughthe town, but which is in much too pleasant a position, we thought, tobe associated with his satanic majesty. 

[Illustration: THE CONGER ROCK, DAWLISH]

Modern Dawlish (though "Doflisc" appears in early charters) only datedfrom the year 1810, when the course of a small stream was changed, andthe pretty waterfalls made; rustic bridges were placed over it andhouses built near the banks; this scheme, which was intended to make thefortunes of the prospectors and of the inhabitants generally, wascompleted at the beginning of November in that year. But, sad to relate, before nine o'clock on the morning of November 10th in that same yearscarcely a vestige of the improvements remained, and in place of a smallrippling stream came a great river, which swept away four houses withstables and other buildings and eight wooden bridges. It seemed almostas if the devil had been vexed with the prospectors for interfering withhis water, and had caused this devastation to punish them for theiraudacity. But a great effort was made in 1818, and a more permanentscheme on similar lines was completed; and Dawlish as we saw it in 1871was a delightful place suggestive of a quiet holiday or honeymoonresort. Elihu Burritt, in his _Walk from London to Land's End_, speakswell of Dawlish; and Barham, a local poet and a son of the renownedauthor of _Ingoldsby Legends_, in his legend "The Monk of Haldon, " inthe July number of _Temple Bar_ in 1867, wrote:

 Then low at your feet, From this airy retreat, Reaching down where the fresh and the salt water meet, The roofs may be seen of an old-fashioned street; Half village, half town, it is--pleasant but smallish, And known where it happens to _be_ known, as Dawlish. A place I'd suggest As one of the best For a man breaking down who needs absolute rest, Especially too if he's weak in the chest; Torquay may be gayer, But as for the air It really can not for a moment compare With snug little Dawlish--at least so they say there. 

[Illustration: ON THE COAST NEAR DAWLISH. ]

The light-coloured cliffs of Dorsetshire had now given place to the darkred sandstone cliffs of Devonshire, a change referred to by Barham in"The Monk of Haldon, " for he wrote:

 'Tis certainly odd that this part of the coast, While neighbouring Dorset gleams white as a ghost, Should look like anchovy sauce spread upon toast. 

We were now bound for Teignmouth, our next stage; and our road for ashort distance ran alongside, but above, the seashore. The change inthe colour of the cliffs along the sea-coast reminded my brother of anincident that occurred when he was going by sea to London, about nineyears before our present journey. He had started from Liverpool in atramp steamboat, which stopped at different points on the coast to loadand unload cargo; and the rocks on the coast-line as far as he hadseen--for the boat travelled and called at places in the night as wellas day--had all been of a dark colour until, in the light of a fine day, the ship came quite near Beachy Head, where the rocks were white androse three or four hundred feet above the sea. He had formed theacquaintance of a young gentleman on board who was noting every objectof interest in a diary, and who, like my brother, was greatly surprisedat the white cliffs with the clear blue sky overhead. Presently thecaptain came along, and the young man asked him why the rocks werewhite. "Well, sir, " said the captain, "the sea is as deep there as therocks are high, and they are so dangerous to ships in the dark that theGovernment has ordered them to be whitewashed once a month to preventshipwreck. " Out came the pocket-book, and as the captain watched thepassenger write it down, my brother looked hard in the captain's face, who never moved a muscle, but a slight twinkle in one of his eyes showedthat he did not want to be asked any questions!

The Devon red sandstone was not very durable, and the action of the seahad worn the outlying rocks into strange shapes. Before reachingTeignmouth we had some good views of the rocks named "the Parson and theClerk, " the history of which was by no means modern, the legend beingtold in slightly different ways:

A great many years ago the vicar of Dawlish and his clerk had been toTeignmouth to collect tithes, and were riding home along the cliffs on adark wet night when they lost their way. Suddenly they came to a housethat they did not remember having seen before. The windows were brightand light, and they could hear the shouts and laughter of a very merrycompany within; they were just wishing themselves inside when a windowwas thrown open and they were invited to come in, an invitation theyvery willingly accepted, and they soon began to enjoy themselves, drinking deeply and waxing merrier every moment, the parson singingsongs that were quite unfit for a priest, entirely forgetting thesanctity of his calling, while the clerk followed his master's example. They stayed long, and when, with giddy heads and unsteady legs, theyrose to depart, the parson said he was sure he could not find the way, and he must have a guide, even if it were the devil himself. The man whohad invited them into the house said he would put them on the right wayfor Dawlish, and led them to the top of the road, and telling them to gostraight on, immediately disappeared. When they had gone a little way, they thought the tide uncommonly high, as it reached their feet, although a minute before they were sure they were on dry land; and themore they attempted to ride away the faster rose the water! Boisterouslaughter now echoed around, and they shouted for help, and a brightflash of lightning revealed the figure of their guide, who was noneother than the devil himself, jeering and pointing over the black stormysea into which they had ridden. Morning came, and their horses werefound quietly straying on the sands, but neither the parson nor hisclerk were ever seen again: but meantime two isolated rocks, in whichwere seen their images, had risen in the sea as a warning to theirbrethren of future generations to have no fellowship with the unfruitfulworks of darkness. 

From the Teignmouth side the Parson appeared seated in a pulpit the backof which was attached to the cliff, while under him was an arch justlike the entrance to a cave, through which the sea appeared on bothsides; while the poor Clerk was some distance farther out at sea andmuch lower down. We thought it was a shame that the parson should besitting up there, watching the poor clerk with the waves dashing overhim, as if perfectly helpless to save himself from drowning. Still, thatwas the arrangement of the three-decker pulpit so common in the churchesof a hundred years ago--the clerk below, the parson above. 

Our road terminated on the beach at Teignmouth, and near St. Michael'sChurch, where on a tablet appeared the figure of a ship, and underneaththe following words:

 SACRED TO THE MEMORY

 OF

 RICHARD WESTLAKE, AGED 27 YEARS, MASTER OF THE BRIG "ISLA, "

 ALSO JOHN WESTLAKE, HIS BROTHER, AGED 24 YEARS, WHO LOST THEIR LIVES IN THE SAID BRIG WHICH FOUNDER'D IN THE STORM ON THE 29TH DAY OF OCTOBER 1823 WITHIN SIGHT OF THIS CHURCH. 

 Readers be at all times ready, for you Know not what a day may bring forth. 

Teignmouth was a strange-looking town, and the best description of itwas by the poet Winthrop Mackworth Praed, who described it as seen inhis time from the top of the Ness Rock:

 A little town was there, O'er which the morning's earliest beam Was wandering fresh and fair. No architect of classic school Had pondered there with line and rule-- The buildings in strange order lay, As if the streets had lost their way; Fantastic, puzzling, narrow, muddy, Excess of toil from lack of study. Where Fashion's very latest fangles Had no conception of right angles. 

Possibly the irregular way in which the old portion of the town had beenbuilt was due to the inroads of the French, who had invaded andpartially destroyed the town on two occasions; for in those days theEnglish coast between Portland and Plymouth was practically undefended. By way perhaps of reprisal Teignmouth contributed seven ships and 120mariners to Edward III's expedition to Calais in 1347. 

[Illustration: "THE PARSON AND CLERK ROCK, " DAWLISH. ]

That unfortunate young poet John Keats visited Teignmouth in 1818. Hehad begun to write his poem "Endymion" in the Isle of Wight the yearbefore, and came here to revise and finish it. The house where heresided, with its old-fashioned door and its three quaint bow windowsrising one above another, was pointed out to us, as well as a shop atthat time kept by the "three pretty milliners" in whom poor Keats was sogreatly interested. Endymion was a beautiful youth whom Selene, themoon, wrapped in perpetual sleep that she might kiss him without hisknowledge. Keats, who was in bad health when he came to Teignmouth, wasreported to have said he could already feel the flowers growing overhim, and although he afterwards went to Rome, the warmer climate failedto resuscitate him, and he died there in 1820, when only twenty-fiveyears old. 

We had expected to have to walk thirty miles that day, via Newton Abbot, before reaching Torquay; but were agreeably surprised to find we couldreduce the mileage to twenty-three and a half by crossing a bridge atTeignmouth. The bridge was quite a formidable affair, consisting of noless than thirty-four arches, and measured 1, 671 feet from shore toshore. It was, moreover, built of beams of wood, and as it had been inexistence since the year 1827, some of the timber seemed rather worn. The open rails at the sides and the water below, and our solemnthoughts about Keats, tended to give us the impression that we were notaltogether safe, and we were glad when we reached the other side, andlanded safely at St. Nicholas, or rather at the villages which formedthe southern portion of Teignmouth. With the Ness Rock, a huge dark redrock with a nose turned upwards towards the sky, to our left, we walkedbriskly along the coast road towards Torquay in order to reach that townbefore dark, as we were obliged to find a good inn to stay in over theSunday. Continuing along this road, with fine views in the neighbourhoodof Anstey's Cove, we soon arrived at Torquay, of which we had heard suchglowing descriptions on our journey. 

Near the entrance to the town we overtook a clergyman, with whom weentered into conversation, telling him of our long journey, in which hewas much interested. We asked him if he could recommend us a good hotelwhere we could stay until Monday morning, as we did not walk on Sundays;and he suggested that we should stay at one of the boarding-houses. Wehad never thought of staying at these places, but when he said he knewof one that would just suit us, and would be pleased to accompany usthere, we were delighted to accept his kind offer. 

[Illustration: TEIGNMOUTH NESS LIGHTHOUSE. ]

I knew my brother was rather suspicious of boarding-houses, and when wearrived opposite the rather nice house where the clergyman had taken usI noticed he looked rather critically at the windows both below andabove. When he saw that the curtains were drawn equally on each side ofthe windows and all the blinds drawn down to almost exactly the samedistance, he was quite satisfied, as he had often said it was a suresign that there was somebody in the house who was looking after it, andthat similar order would be certain to reign within. 

[Illustration: ANSTEY'S COVE. TORQUAY. ]

The clergyman was evidently well known to the people at the house, andan introduction to the master and mistress, and (shall we record?) totheir two daughters as well, placed us immediately upon the best ofterms with the whole family. We received every attention, and after agood tea we had a walk in and around the town, and were well pleasedwith the appearance of Torquay. It was a much larger place than we hadanticipated. In a stationer's shop window we saw exhibited a small_Guide to Torquay_, published in Manchester, and sold for the small sumof one penny, from which we learned that the population of Torquay hadrisen enormously during the past few years, for while it registered11, 294 in 1858 and 16, 682 in 1868, in 1871, the year of our journey, itstood at 26, 477; and it further informed us that the distance from thereto London was 216 miles, and that "the express which leaves Paddingtonat 9. 15 and arrives at Torquay at 4. 34 has a third-class carriage forTorquay"--an example of the speed of express trains in those days. The_Guide_ must have only just been issued, evidently in advance for thecoming year, as it gave the Torquay High Water Table from May to Octoberinclusive for 1872, and the following precise account of Anstey's Cove. 

 ANSTIS COVE

 Anstis Cove deserves a special visit. Passing from the Strand, under an avenue of trees opposite the Post-Office, and leaving the Public Gardens on the right hand, the visitor will go as straight as the road will permit till he comes in sight of St. Matthias' Church. The road to the right leads down to Anstis Cove. He will notice among the ferns and trees a door in the mossy bank, like the entrance to a hermitage in the wilderness. It is the door of the venerable Kent's Cavern. Persons who are now employed by the Torquay Natural History Society will guide the visitor and supply candles. The vast cavern is six hundred and fifty feet in length, with small caverns and corridors, which are most dangerous without a guide, rugged, wet, and slippery. Some years ago the skeleton of a woman who had lost her way was found. No one now enters without a guide. In some parts the cavern is so low that the visitors are obliged to crawl and squeeze, but in other parts it is 30 feet high. The eminent geologist, Dr. Buckland, here discovered the bones of rhinoceros, elephants, lions, wolves, bears, hippopotami, and hyaenas--beasts of prey that haunted the forests of prehistoric England before the times of the Celts. Rude implements which have been found in the cavern prove that in very remote times it was the resort of savage tribes. The cavern is now in process of careful examination by qualified persons, at the expense of the British Association, to whom they make periodical reports. Fossil remains which have been, discovered may be seen at the museum of the Natural History Society, in Park Street, between the hours of ten and four daily. 

 But Anstis Cove is the object of our search. Proceeding down the shady lane, taking the first turning on the left hand, we find a gateway leading to a footpath among all kinds of bushes and shady trees, down to the pebbly beach. The lofty limestone cliff of Walls Hill is before us--such rocks as are nowhere else to be seen. They seem like huge monsters creeping into the ocean. Here, amongst huge rocks on the shore, are the bathing machines. The water is clear as crystal. Rowing-boats are also here for hire, and here the strata of the neighbouring cliffs hanging over the sea can be examined. Here is a cottage, too, where lobsters and picnic viands may be procured. On the beach the fossil Madrepore is often found. 

We were the only visitors at the boarding-house, where the cleanlinessand the catering were all that could be desired. The young ladies viedwith each other to make our visit a pleasant one, and after a goodsupper we stayed up relating some of our adventures until the clockstruck ten, when we retired for a well-earned rest, having walked quite179 miles that week. 

(_Distance walked twenty-three and a half miles_. )

_Sunday, November 12th. _

We rose at our usual early hour this morning, and were downstairs longbefore our friends anticipated our arrival, for they naturally thoughtthat after our long walk we should have been glad of an extra hour ortwo's rest; but habit, as in the time of Diogenes, had become secondnature, and to remain in bed was to us equivalent to undergoing a termof imprisonment. As boot-cleaning in those days was a much longeroperation than the more modern boot-polish has made it, we compromisedmatters by going out in dirty boots on condition that they were cleanedwhile we were having breakfast. It was a fine morning, and we were quiteenchanted with Torquay, its rocks and its fine sea views on one side, and its wooded hills on the other, with mansions peeping out atintervals above the trees. We could not recall to mind any morebeautiful place that we had visited. 

[Illustration: TORQUAY FROM WALDON HILL IN 1871. ]

After breakfast we attended morning service at the church recommended byour host, but after travelling so much in the open air the change to thecloser atmosphere of a church or chapel affected us considerably. Although we did not actually fall asleep, we usually became very drowsyand lapsed into a dreamy, comatose condition, with shadowy formsfloating before us of persons and places we had seen in our travels. Theconstant changes in position during the first part of the Church Serviceinvariably kept us fairly well alive, but the sermon was always ourchief difficulty, as during its delivery no change of posture wasrequired. When the service began, however, we were agreeably surprisedto find that the minister who officiated was none other than theclergyman who had so kindly interested himself in finding us lodgingsyesterday. This awakened our interest in the service, which we followedas closely as we could; but when the vicar announced his text, beginningwith the well-known words, "They that go down to the sea in ships, " wewere all attention, for immediately our adventures in the North Sea cameinto our minds, and the ocean, that great work of the Almighty, is sographically described in that 107th Psalm, and the dangers of thesailors with their fears and hopes so clearly depicted, that we recordthe whole text, as it appeared in the versified rendering of the Psalms, in the hope that some one may "read, mark, learn and inwardly digest":

 They that go down to the sea in ships: and occupy their business in great waters; these men see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep. For at His word the stormy wind ariseth, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They are carried up to the heaven, and down again to the deep: and their soul melteth away because of the trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end. So when they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, He delivereth them out of their distress. For He maketh the storm to cease, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad, because they are at rest, and so He bringeth them unto the haven where they would be. O that men would therefore praise the Lord for His goodness, and declare the wonders that He doeth for the children of men. 

The preacher referred feelingly to a great storm or tornado which hadvisited the South Coast about six years before, when a large number ofships, sheltering in Torbay, were swept out by a sudden change in thewind and over forty of them were sunk. This happened in the month ofJanuary, when drifting snow filled the eyes of the spectators, who werewithin hearing distance but could render no assistance. The Brixhamsailors acted most bravely and saved many lives, but over one hundredpeople were drowned. We could see that some members of the congregationstill mourned the loss of friends who had perished on that sad occasion. 

We were well pleased with the service, and after a short ramble returnedto our lodgings for dinner at one o'clock, afterwards adjourning to thedrawing-room, where we were presently joined by our host, who suggesteda walk that afternoon to see the beautiful views in the neighbourhood, aproposition to which we readily assented. 

[Illustration: THE OUTER HARBOUR, BRIXHAM. ]

But while he was getting ready my brother happened to strike a fewchords on the piano, which immediately attracted the attention of thetwo young ladies, who told us they had seen us at church, where theywere in the choir. They were beginning to learn some pieces to sing atChristmas, and, producing a pianoforte copy, asked my brother to playthe accompaniment while they tried them over. He made some excuses, butthey said they knew he could play as soon as they heard him strike thechords; so, as his excuses were not accepted, he had to submit to theinevitable---not altogether unwillingly. They had only just begun whentheir father came into the room and claimed our company for the promisedwalk, and, as I was the only member of the party ready to join him, wewent out with the understanding that they would follow us. After walkinga short distance I suggested waiting for them, but the gentleman assuredme they knew the way he always went on Sundays, and would be sure tofind us. I enjoyed the company of our host, as he seemed to know thehistory of the whole neighbourhood, and possessed a fund of informationready at command concerning every object of interest we saw. He pointedout Portland in the far distance, where convicts worked, and where thestones used for sharpening scythes were produced. He also told me thatformerly Torquay consisted merely of a few cottages inhabited byfishermen, but some nobleman bought the place for £13, 000, and let theground in lots on short leases for building purposes. Now that it wascovered with fine houses, he received tens of thousands a year fromchief rent, while many of the houses would come to his family in a fewyears' time. 

It surprised me greatly how much I missed my brother's company. We hadnever been separated for so long a period during the whole of ourjourney, and at every turn I found myself instinctively turning round tosee if he were following. It was a lovely walk, but when we reached thehouse on our return, neither my brother nor the young ladies were to befound, and it was nearly time for the five-o'clock tea before theyreturned. They all looked very pleasant, and assured us they hadfollowed us as promised, and the young ladies seemed able to convincetheir father that they had done so; but to my mind the matter was neversatisfactorily cleared up, and I often reminded my brother in afteryears about those two young ladies at Torquay, who, by the way, werevery good-looking. Many years afterwards some poetry was written by alady who must have been an authority on the "Little Maids of Devon, " forshe wrote:

 Oh! the little maids of Devon, They've a rose in either cheek, And their eyes like bits of heaven Meet your own with glances meek; But within them there are tiny imps That play at hide and seek!

 Oh! the little maids of Devon, They have skins of milk and cream, Just as pure and clear and even As a pool in Dartmoor stream; But who looks at them is holden With the magic of a dream. 

 Oh! the little maids of Devon, They have honey-coloured hair. Where the sun has worked like leaven. Turning russet tones to fair, And they hold you by the strands of it, And drive you to despair. 

 Oh! the little maids of Devon, They have voices like a dove, And Jacob's years of seven One would serve to have their love; But their hearts are things of mystery A man may never prove!

We all attended church again for evening service, and after supperpassed the evening singing hymns, in which I was able to join, some ofthem very beautiful and selected because they had been composed bypeople connected with the County of Devon. One of them was written byCharlotte Elliott, who died at Torquay in 1871, the year we were there, and still a favourite even in these later years, the first verse being:

 Just as I am, without one plea But that Thy Blood was shed for me, And that Thou bidd'st me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, I come. 

The first vicar of Lower Brixham was the Rev. Henry Francis Lyte, who atfifty-four years of age began to suffer from consumption, and who, whenhe knew he had not long to live, prayed that he might be enabled towrite something that would live to the glory of God after he was dead. As a last resource he had been ordered by the doctors to go to theRiviera, where he died at Nice a month later. The night before hestarted he preached his farewell sermon, and, returning to his house asthe sun was setting over the ships in the harbour, many of whichbelonged to the fishermen he had laboured amongst for so many years, hesat down and wrote that beautiful hymn:

 Abide with me; fast falls the eventide; The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide; When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me. 

Then there was the Rev. A. M. Toplady, for some time vicar of BroadHembury, near Honiton. While walking out with some friends in Somerset, he was caught in a storm, and the party sheltered in a well-known caveby the roadside, where, standing under its rocky entrance, he wrote thisfamous hymn:

 Rock of ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in Thee; Let the Water and the Blood, From Thy riven Side which flow'd, Be of sin the double cure, Cleanse me from its guilt and power. 

All these hymns are sung in every part of the world where the Englishtongue is spoken. 

The two ladies were good singers, one soprano and the other contralto, while I sang tenor and my brother tried to sing bass; but, as heexplained, he was not effective on the lower notes (nor, as a matter offact, on the high ones either). He said afterwards it was as much as hecould do to play the music without having to join in the singing, and atone point he narrowly escaped finishing two bars after the vocalists. Still we spent a very pleasant evening, the remembrance of whichremained with us for many years, and we often caught ourselves wonderingwhat became of those pretty girls at Torquay. 

NINTH WEEK'S JOURNEY

_Monday, November 13th. _

From time immemorial Torbay had been a favourite landing-place both forfriends and foes, and it was supposed that the Roman Emperors Vespasian, Titus, and Adrian, when on their way to the camp on Milber Downs, hadeach landed near the place where Brixham now stands. Brixham was thebest landing-place in the Bay, and the nearest to the open sea. It was afishing-place of some importance when Torquay, its neighbour, was littleknown, except perhaps as a rendezvous of smugglers and pirates. Leland, in his famous _Itinerary_ written in the sixteenth century, afterdescribing the Bay of Torre as being about four miles across theentrance and "ten miles or more in compace, " says: "The Fishermen hathdivers tymes taken up with theyr nettes yn Torre-bay mussons of harts, whereby men judge that in tymes paste it hath been forest grounds. "Clearly much of England has been washed away or has sunk beneath theocean. Is not this part of the "Lyonesse" of the poets--the country ofromance--the land of the fairies?

[Illustration: BRIXHAM HARBOUR]

In 1588, when the Spanish Armada appeared outside the Bay, there wasgreat excitement in the neighbourhood of Torbay, which grew into frenzywhen the first capture was towed in. The _Rosario_, or, to give her thefull name, _Nuestra Señora del Rosario_, was a fine galleon manned by450 men and many gallant officers. She was the _capitana_, or flagship, of the squadron commanded by Don Pedro de Valdez, who had seen muchservice in the West Indies and who, because of his special knowledge ofthe English Channel, was of great importance in the council of theArmada. He was a bold, skilful leader, very different from theCommander-in-Chief, and as his ship formed one of the rearguard he tookan early part in the fight with the pursuing English. He was badlymauled, losing his foremast and suffering worse by fouling two ships, one of his own squadron, the other a Biscayan; all three were damaged. He demanded assistance of Medina Sidonia, but the weather was rough andthe Duke refused. In the darkness the _Rosario_ drove off one or twoEnglish attempts to cut her off, but Drake himself in the famous_Revenge_ lay alongside and called upon Valdez to surrender. His replywas a demand for honourable terms, to which Drake answered that he hadno time for parley--the Spanish commander must come aboard at once or hewould rake her. The name of Drake (El Draque, the Dragon) was enough forthe Spaniard, and Valdez, in handing over his sword, took credit tohimself that he yielded to the most famous captain of his day. Drake inreply promised good treatment and all the lives of the crew, a thing byno means usual, as can be guessed by the remark of the disgustedSheriff, when so many prisoners were handed over at Torbay; he wished"the Spaniards had been made into water-spaniels. " Drake sent the_Roebuck_ to see the ship safely into Torbay, where she was left incharge of the Brixham fishermen, her powder being secured at once andsent by the quickest of the fishing-boats to our own ships, at thatmoment badly in need of it. The prisoners were taken round to Torbay, where they were lodged in a building ever afterwards known as the"Spanish barn. "

[Illustration: STATUE OF WILLIAM, PRINCE OF ORANGE, BRIXHAM, ERECTED ONTHE SPOT WHERE HE LANDED. ]

In 1601 the first squadron organised by the East India Company sailedfrom Torbay, and in 1667 the Dutch fleet, commanded by De Ruyter, paidthe Bay a brief but not a friendly visit, doing some damage. In 1688another fleet appeared--this time a friendly one, for it broughtWilliam, Prince of Orange, who had been invited to occupy the Englishthrone abdicated by James II. We were informed that when his shipapproached the shore he spoke to the people assembled there in brokenEnglish--very broken--saying, "Mine goot people, mine goot people, Imean you goot; I am come here for your goot, for your goots, " andsuggested that if they were willing to welcome him they should come andfetch him ashore; whereupon one Peter Varwell ran into the sea, andcarried the new King to the shore, gaining much renown for doing so. This happened on November 5th, the date for landing doubtless havingbeen arranged to coincide with the anniversary of the attempt of GuyFawkes to blow up the Houses of Parliament with gunpowder eighty-threeyears before, so that bonfire day served afterwards to celebrate the twooccasions. The house where William stayed that night was still pointedout in Brixham. 

In 1690 James II, who had been dethroned and exiled to France, toldTourville, the French Admiral, that if he would take his fleet to theSouth of England he would find all the people there ready to receive himback again, so he brought his ships off Torbay. Instead of a friendlyreception here, he found the people decidedly hostile to James's cause, so he detached two or three of his galleys to Teignmouth, quite adefenceless place, where they committed great ravages and practicallydestroyed the town. These galleys were a class of boat common in theMediterranean, where they had been employed ever since the warlike timesof the Greeks and Romans. In addition to sails, they were propelled withoars manned by slaves; and a similar class of ship worked by convictswas used by the French down to the middle of the eighteenth century. Themen of Teignmouth, who had no wish to be captured and employed as galleyslaves, seeing that they were in a hopeless position, retreated inland. Lord Macaulay thus describes the position in his History:

 The Beacon on the ridge above Teignmouth was kindled, Hey-Tor and Cawsand made answer, and soon all the hill tops of the West were on fire. Messengers were riding all night from deputy lieutenant to deputy lieutenant; and early the next morning, without chief, without summons, five hundred gentlemen and yeomen, armed and mounted, had assembled on the summit of Haldon Hill, and in twenty-four hours all Devonshire was up. 

It was therefore no wonder that Trouville found his landing opposed bythousands of fierce Devonshire men, who lined the shores and preventedhim from landing his troops; the expedition was a complete failure, andhe returned to France. 

In those days, when railways and telegraphy were unknown, the wholecountry could be aroused very quickly and effectively by those beaconfires. The fuel was always kept ready for lighting on the Beacon hills, which were chosen so that the fire on one hill could be seen from theother. On our journey through England we passed many of these beacons, then used for more peaceful purposes. 

In 1815 another ship appeared in Torbay, with only one prisoner onboard, but a very important one. The ship was the British man-of-war the_Bellerophon_, and the prisoner the great Napoleon Bonaparte. We hadalready come to the conclusion that Torquay, with its pretty bay, wasthe most delightful place we had visited; and even Napoleon, who musthave been acquainted with the whole of Europe, and who appeared inTorbay under what must have been to him depressing circumstances, exclaimed when he saw it, "_Enfin, voilà un beau pays_!" (What abeautiful country this is!) He arrived on July 24th, five weeks afterthe Battle of Waterloo, and departed on August 8th from Plymouth, havingbeen transferred to the _Northumberland_ for the voyage to his prisonhome in St. Helena, a South Atlantic island 760 miles from any otherland, and where he died in 1821. During the few days' visit of the_Bellerophon_ at Torbay, thousands upon thousands of people came by landand water in the hope of seeing the great general who had so nearly madehimself master of the whole of Europe, and although very few of them sawNapoleon, they all saw the lovely scenery there, and this, it was said, laid the foundation of the fortunes of the future Torquay. 

[Illustration: NAPOLEON ON THE _BELLEROPHON_. _From the Painting byOrchardson_. ]

We had intended leaving Torquay for Totnes by the main road, whichpassed through Paignton, but our host informed us that even if we passedthrough it, we should not see Paignton in all its glory, as we weretwelve years too early for one pudding and thirty-nine years too latefor the next. We had never heard of Paignton puddings before, but itappeared that as far back as 1294 Paignton had been created a borough ormarket town, and held its charter by a White-Pot Pudding, which was totake seven years to make, seven years to bake, and seven years to eat, and was to be produced once every fifty years. In 1809 the pudding wasmade of 400 lbs. Of flour, 170 lbs. Of suet, 140 lbs. Of raisins, and240 eggs. It was boiled in a brewer's copper, and was kept constantlyboiling from the Saturday morning until the Tuesday following, when itwas placed on a gaily decorated trolley and drawn through the town byeight oxen, followed by a large and expectant crowd of people. But thepudding did not come up to expectations, turning out rather stodgy: soin 1859 a much larger pudding was made, but this time it was bakedinstead of boiled, and was drawn by twenty-five horses through thestreets of the town. One feature of the procession on that occasion wasa number of navvies who happened to be working near the town and whowalked in their clean white slops, or jackets, and of course came in fora goodly share of the pudding. 

One of the notables of Paignton was William Adams, one of the manyprisoners in the hands of the Turks or Saracens in the time when theEnglish Liturgy was compiled. It was said that the intercession "for allprisoners and captives" applied especially to them, and every Sundayduring the five years he was a prisoner at Algiers, William Adams' namewas specially mentioned after that petition. The story of his escape wasone of the most sensational of its time. Adams and six companions made aboat in sections, and fastened it together in a secluded cove on theseacoast; but after it was made they found it would only carry five ofthem, of whom Adams was of course one. After the most terriblesufferings they at length reached "Majork, " or Majorca Island, theSpaniards being very kind to them, assisting them to reach home, wherethey arrived emaciated and worn out. The two men left behind were neverheard of again. We had often heard the name "Bill Adams, " and wonderedwhether this man could have been the original. The county historian ofthose days had described him as "a very honest sensible man, who died inthe year of our Lord 1687, and his body, so like to be buried in the seaand to feed fishes, lies buried in Paignton churchyard, where itfeasteth worms. "

[Illustration: PAIGNTON OLD TOWER]

We could see Paignton, with its ivy-covered Tower, all that was left ofthe old Palace of the Bishops of Exeter, but we did not visit it, as wepreferred to cross the hills and see some other places of which we hadheard, and also to visit Berry Pomeroy Castle on our way to Totnes. 

Behind Torquay we passed along some of the loveliest little lanes wehad ever seen. They must have presented a glorious picture in spring andsummer, when the high hedges were "hung with ferns and banked up withflowers, " for even in November they were very beautiful. These by-laneshad evidently been originally constructed for pedestrian and horsetraffic, but they had not been made on the surface of the land, likethose in Dorset and Wilts, and were more like ditches than roads. Weconjectured that they had been sunk to this depth in order that pirateslanding suddenly on the coast could see nothing of the traffic from adistance. But therein consisted their beauty, for the banks on eitherside were covered with luxuriant foliage, amongst which ferns andflowers struggled for existence, and the bushes and trees above in manyplaces formed a natural and leafy arch over the road below. The surfaceof the roads was not very good, being naturally damp, as the dryinginfluences of the wind and sun could scarcely penetrate to suchsheltered positions, and in wet weather the mud had a tendency toaccumulate; but we did not trouble ourselves about this as we walkedsteadily onwards. The roads were usually fairly straight, but went upand down hill regardless of gradients, though occasionally they werevery crooked, and at cross-roads, in the absence of finger-posts or anyone to direct us, it was easy to take a wrong turning. Still it was areal pleasure to walk along these beautiful Devonshire lanes. 

[Illustration: A TYPICAL DEVONSHIRE LANE. ]

 In a Devonshire lane, as I trotted along T'other day, much in want of a subject for song, Thinks I to myself, I have hit on a strain-- Sure, marriage is much like a Devonshire lane. 

 In the first place 'tis long, and when once you are in it, It holds you as fast as a cage does a linnet; For howe'er rough and dirty the road may be found, Drive forward you must, there is no turning round. 

 But though 'tis so long, it is not very wide, For two are the most that together can ride; And e'en then 'tis a chance but they sit in a pother. And joke and cross and run foul of each other. 

 But thinks I too, the banks, within which we are pent, With bud, blossom, berry, are richly besprent; And the conjugal fence, which forbids us to roam. Looks lovely, when deck'd with the comforts of home. 

 In the rock's gloomy crevice the bright holly grows: The ivy waves fresh o'er the withering rose, And the evergreen love of a virtuous wife Soothes the roughness of care--cheers the winter of life. 

 Then long be the journey, and narrow the way, I'll rejoice that I've seldom a turnpike to pay; And whate'er others say, be the last to complain. Though marriage is just like a Devonshire lane. 

Late though it was in the year, there was still some autumn foliage onthe trees and bushes and some few flowers and many ferns in shelteredplaces; we also had the golden furze or gorse to cheer us on our way, for an old saying in Devonshire runs--

 When furze is out of bloom Then love is out of tune, which was equivalent to saying that love was never out of tune inDevonshire, for there were three varieties of furze in that county whichbloomed in succession, so that there were always some blooms of thatplant to be found. The variety we saw was that which begins to bloom inAugust and remains in full beauty till the end of January. 

 Beside the fire with toasted crabs We sit, and love is there; In merry Spring, with apple flowers It flutters in the air. At harvest, when we toss the sheaves, Then love with them is toss't; At fall, when nipp'd and sear the leaves, Un-nipp'd is love by frost. Golden furze in bloom! O golden furze in bloom! When the furze is out of flower Then love is out of tune. 

Presently we arrived at Cockington, a secluded and ancient village, picturesque to a degree, with cottages built of red cobs and a quaintforge or smithy for the village blacksmith, all, including the entrancelodge to the squire's park, being roofed or thatched with straw. Prettygardens were attached to all of them, and everything looked so trim, clean, and neat that it was hard to realise that such a pretty andinnocent-looking place had ever been the abode of smugglers or pirates;yet so it was, for hiding-holes existed there which belonged formerly towhat were jocularly known as the early "Free Traders. " Near Anstey'sCove, in Torbay, we had seen a small cave in the rocks known as the"Brandy Hole, " near which was the smuggler's staircase. This was formedof occasional flights of roughly-hewn stone steps, up which in days goneby the kegs of brandy and gin and the bales of silk had been carried tothe top of the cliffs and thence conveyed to Cockington and othervillages in the neighbourhood where the smugglers' dens existed. 

[Illustration: COCKINGTON VILLAGE. ]

Possibly Jack Rattenbury, the famous smuggler known as "the Rob Roy ofthe West, " escaped to Cockington when he was nearly caught by the crewof one of the King's ships, for the search party were close on his heelswhen he saved himself by his agility in scaling the cliffs. ButCockington was peaceful enough when we visited it, and in the park, adorned with fine trees, stood the squire's Hall, or Court, and theivy-covered church. Cockington was mentioned in Domesday Book, and in1361 a fair and a market were granted to Walter de Wodeland, usher tothe Chamber of the Black Prince, who afterwards created him a knight, and it was probably about that time that the present church was built. The screen and pews and pulpit had formerly belonged to Tor Mohunchurch, and the font, with its finely carved cover and the other relicsof wood, all gave us the impression of being extremely old, and as theywere in the beginning. The Cary family were once the owners of theestate, and in the time of the Spanish Armada George Cary, who wasafterwards knighted by Queen Elizabeth, with Sir John Gilbert, at thattime the owner of Tor Abbey, took charge of the four hundred prisonersfrom the Spanish flagship _Rosario_ while they were lodged in the grangeof Tor Abbey. 

[Illustration: COMPTON CASTLE. ]

From Cockington we walked on to Compton Castle, a fine old fortifiedhouse, one of the most interesting and best preserved remains of acastellated mansion in Devonshire. One small portion of it wasinhabited, and all was covered with ivy, but we could easily trace theremains of the different apartments. It was formerly the home of theGilbert family, of whom the best-known member was Sir Humphrey Gilbert, a celebrated navigator and mathematician of the sixteenth century, half-brother of Sir Walter Raleigh, and knighted by Queen Elizabeth forhis bravery in Ireland. Sir Humphrey afterwards made voyages ofdiscovery, and added Newfoundland, our oldest colony, to the BritishPossessions, and went down with the _Squirrel_ in a storm off theAzores. When his comrades saw him for the last time before hedisappeared from their sight for ever in the mist and gloom of theevening, he held a Bible in his hand, and said cheerily, "Never mind, boys! we are as near to Heaven by sea as by land!"

We had a splendid walk across the hills, passing through Marldon, wherethe church was apparently the burial-place of the Gilbert family, ofwhich it contained many records, including an effigy of Otho Gilbert, who was Sheriff of the County and who died in 1476. But the chief objectof interest at Marldon appeared to be a six-barred gate called theGallows Gate, which stood near the spot where the three parishesconverged: Kingskerswell, Cockington, and Marldon; near this theculprits from those three places were formerly hanged. We looked for thegate in the direction pointed out to us, but failed to find it. Somepeople in the village thought its name of the Gallows Gate was derivedfrom an incident which occurred there many years ago. A sheep-stealerhad killed a sheep, and was carrying it home slung round his shoulderswhen he came to this gate. Finding it fastened, he was climbing over, when in the dark his foot slipped and the cord got across his neck. Theweight of the carcase as it fell backwards, added to his own, caused himto be choked, so that he was literally hanged upon the gate instead ofthe gallows for what was in those days a capital offence. 

After passing the Beacon Hill, we had very fine views over land and sea, extending to Dartmoor and Dartmouth, and with a downward gradient wesoon came to Berry Pomeroy, the past and present owners of which hadbeen associated with many events recorded in the history of England, from the time of William the Conqueror, who bestowed the manor, alongwith many others, on one of his followers named Ralph de Pomeroy. It washe who built the Castle, where the Pomeroys remained in possession untilthe year 1547, when it passed into the hands of the Seymour family, afterwards the Dukes of Somerset, in whose possession it still remained. 

 After the Pomeroys disappeared the first owner of the manor and castle was Edward Seymour, afterwards the haughty Lord Protector Somerset, who first rose in royal favour by the marriage of his eldest sister Jane Seymour to Henry VIII, and that monarch appointed him an executor under his will and a member of the Council on whom the duty devolved of guarding the powers of the Crown during the minority of his son and successor Edward VI, who only reigned six years, from 1547 to 1553; and Seymour's father, Sir John, had accompanied King Henry VIII to his wars in France, and to the Field of the Cloth of Gold. 

 Henry VIII had great faith in his brother-in-law, and after the King's death Seymour quickly gained ascendency over the remaining members of the Council, and was nominated Lord Treasurer of England, and created Earl of Somerset, Feb. 17, 1567; two days afterwards he obtained a grant of the office of Earl Marshal of England for life, and on the 12th of March following he procured a patent from the young King, who was his nephew, constituting himself the Protector of the Realm, an office altogether new to the Constitution and that gave him full regal power. 

 It was about that time that the English Reformation began, and the free circulation of the Bible was permitted. The Latin Mass was abolished, and the English Liturgy substituted, and 42 Articles of Faith were adopted by the English Protestants. Protector Somerset was a Protestant, and always took advice of Archbishop Cranmer, and care was taken that the young King was instructed in the Reformed Religion. King Henry VIII had arranged in his lifetime that Edward VI should marry Mary, the young Queen of Scotland, and Somerset raised an army and went to Scotland to secure her person: but after fighting a battle he only just managed to win, he found that the proposed union was not looked upon favourably in Scotland, and that the young Queen had been sent away to France for greater safety. 

 Meantime Somerset's brother Thomas Seymour, High Admiral of England, had married Catherine Parr, widow of Henry VIII, without the knowledge of the Protector; and this, with the fierce opposition of the Roman Catholics, and of the Barons, whose taking possession of the common lands he had opposed, and the offence given to the population of London through demolishing an ancient parish church in the Strand there, so that he could build a fine mansion for himself, which still bears the name of Somerset House, led to the rapid decline of his influence, and after causing his brother to be beheaded he himself shared a similar fate. 

Berry Pomeroy was a lovely spot, and the foliage was magnificent as wewalked up to the castle and then to the village, while every now andthen we came to a peep-hole through the dense mass of bushes and treesshowing a lovely view beyond. The ruins of the castle were covered withivy, moss, and creeping plants, while ferns and shrubs grew both insideand out, forming the most picturesque view of the kind that could beimagined. We were fortunate in securing the services of an enthusiasticand intelligent guide, who told us many stories of events that had takenplace there, some of them of a sensational character. He showed us theprecipice, then rapidly becoming obscured by bushes and trees, where thetwo brothers Pomeroy, with their horses, were dashed to pieces. Thecastle had been besieged for a long time, and when the two brothersfound they could hold out no longer, rather than submit to the besiegersthey sounded their horns in token of surrender, and, blindfolding theirhorses, mounted and rode over the battlements into the depths below! Thehorses seemed to know their danger, and struggled to turn back, but theywere whipped and spurred on to meet the same dreadful fate as theirmasters. One look over the battlements was enough for us, as it washorrible to contemplate, but our guide seemed to delight in piling onthe agony, as most awful deeds had been done in almost every part of theruins, and he did not forget to tell us that ghosts haunted the place atnight. 

[Illustration: GUARD CHAMBER, BERRY POMEROY]

In a dismal room, or dungeon, under what was known as St. Margaret'sTower, one sister had imprisoned another sister for years, because ofjealousy, and in another place a mother had murdered her child. He alsotold us a story of an old Abbot who had been concerned in some dreadfulcrime, and had been punished by being buried alive. Three days weregiven him in which to repent, and on each day he had to witness thedigging in unconsecrated ground of a portion of his grave. He groanedhorribly, and refused to take any food, and on the third morning was soweak that he had to be carried to watch the completion of the grave inwhich he was to be buried the following day. On the fourth day, when themonks came in to dress him in his burial garments and placed him on thebier, he seemed to have recovered a little, and with a great effort hetwisted himself and fell off. They lifted him on again, and four laybrothers carried him to the side of the deep grave. As he was loweredinto the tomb a solemn dirge was sung by the monks, and prayers wereoffered for mercy on his sinful soul. The earth was being dropped slowlyon him when a faint groan was heard; for a few moments the earth abovehim seemed convulsed a little, and then the grave was closed. 

The ghost of the blood-stained Fontebrant and that of his assassin wereamongst those that haunted Pomeroy Castle and its lonely surroundings, and cries and groans were occasionally heard in the village below fromthe shrieking shade of the guilty Eleanor, who murdered her uncle. Atmidnight she was said to fly from the fairies, who followed her withwrithing serpents, their tongues glistening with poisonous venom andtheir pestiferous breath turning black everything with which they camein contact, and thus her soul was tortured as a punishment for herhorrible deeds. Amongst the woods glided the pale ghosts of the AbbotBertrand and the mother with her murdered child. 

What a difference there is in guides, and especially when no "tips" arein sight! You go into a church, for instance, and are shown round in ageneral kind of a way and inquiries are answered briefly. As you leavethe building you hand the caretaker a silver coin which he did notexpect, and then, conscience-stricken, he immediately becomes loquaciousand asks if you saw an object that he ought to have shown you, and itgenerally ends in your turning back and seeing double the objects ofinterest you saw before, and possibly those in the graveyard as well. Then there are others whose hearts are in their work, and who insistupon your seeing all there is to be seen and hearing the history orlegends connected with the place. Such was our guide that morning; hewas most enthusiastic when giving us his stories, but we did not accepthis invitation to come some evening to see the ghosts, as we could notimagine a more lonely and "boggarty" spot at night than amongst thethick bushes and foliage of Berry Castle, very beautiful though itlooked in the daylight; nor did we walk backwards three times round thetrunk of the old "wishing tree, " and in the process wish for somethingthat we might or might not get; but we rewarded our guide handsomely forhis services. 

[Illustration: BERRY POMEROY CHURCH. ]

We had a look in the old church, where there were numerous tombs of theSeymour family; but the screen chiefly attracted our attention. Theprojection of the rood-loft still remained on the top, adorned with fantracery, and there was also the old door which led up to it. The lowerpanels had as usual been much damaged, but the carved figures couldstill be recognised, and some of the original colouring in gold, vermilion, green, and white remained. The figures were said torepresent St. Matthew with his club, St. Philip with the spear, St. Stephen with stones in his chasuble, St. Jude with the boat, St. Matthias with the battle-axe, sword, and dagger, St. Mary Magdalene withthe alabastrum, St. Barbara with the tower, St. Gudala with the lantern, and the four doctors of the Western Church. The ancient pulpit was ofthe same period as the screen, as were also the old-fashioned, straight-backed, oak pews. 

[Illustration: THE SCREEN, BERRY POMEROY CHURCH]

The vicarage, which was as usual near the church, must have been a veryhealthy place, for the Rev. John Prince, author of _The Worthies ofDevon_, published in 1901, who died in 1723, was vicar there forforty-two years, and was succeeded by the Rev. Joseph Fox, who died in1781, aged eighty-four, having been vicar for fifty-eight years. He wasfollowed by the Rev. John Edwards, who was vicar for fifty-three years, and died in 1834 aged eighty-three. This list was very different fromthat we had seen at Hungerford, and we wondered whether a parallel forlongevity in three successive vicars existed in all England, for theyaveraged fifty-one years' service. 

[Illustration: PARLIAMENT COTTAGES. ]

There were some rather large thatched cottages in Berry Pomeroy village, where Seymour, who was one of the first men of rank and fortune to jointhe Prince of Orange, met the future King after he had landed atBrixham on November 5th, 1688. A conference was held in these cottages, which were ever afterwards known as "Parliament Buildings, " that meetingforming William's first Parliament. Seymour was at that time M. P. ForExeter, and was also acting as Governor of that city. When Williamarrived there four days afterwards, with an army of 15, 000 men, he wasawarded a very hearty reception, for he was looked upon as more of adeliverer than a conqueror. 

It was only a short distance from Berry Pomeroy to Totnes, our nextstage, and we were now to form our first acquaintance with the lovelyvalley of the River Dart, which we reached at the foot of the hill onwhich that picturesque and quaint old town was situated. Formerly theriver had to be crossed by a rather difficult ford, but that had beendone away with in the time of King John, and replaced by a narrow bridgeof eight arches, which in its turn had been replaced in the time ofWilliam and Mary by a wider bridge of three arches with a toll-gate uponit, where all traffic except pedestrians had to contribute towards thecost of its erection. A short distance to the right after crossing thebridge was a monument to a former native of the town, to whom asorrowful memory was attached; it had been erected by subscription, andwas inscribed:

 IN HONOR OF

 WILLIAM JOHN WILLS

 NATIVE OF TOTNES THE FIRST WITH BURKE TO CROSS THE AUSTRALIAN CONTINENT

 HE PERISHED IN RETURNING, 28 JUNE 1861

When the Australian Government offered a reward for an exploration ofthat Continent from north to south, Wills, at that time an assistant inthe Observatory at Melbourne, volunteered his services along with RobertO'Hara Burke, an Irish police inspector. Burke was appointed leader ofthe expedition, consisting of thirteen persons, which started fromMelbourne on August 20th, 1860, and in four months' time reached theRiver Barco, to the east of Lake Eyre. Here it became necessary todivide the party: Burke took Wills with him, and two others, leaving theremainder at Cooper's Creek to look after the stores and to wait thereuntil Burke and his companions returned. 

They reached Flinders River in February of the following year, but theyfound the country to be quite a desert, and provisions failed them. Theywere obliged to return, reaching Cooper's Creek on April 21st, 1861. They arrived emaciated and exhausted, only to find that the others hadgiven up all hope of seeing them again, and returned home. Burke and hiscompanions struggled on for two months, but one by one they succumbed, until only one was left--a man named King. Fortunately he was found bysome friendly natives, who treated him kindly, and was handed over tothe search-party sent out to find the missing men. The bodies of Burkeand Wills were also recovered, and buried with all honours at Melbourne, where a fine monument was erected to their memory. 

Many of the early settlers in Australia were killed by the aborigines orbushmen, and a friend of ours who emigrated there from our nativevillage many years ago was supposed to have been murdered by them. Hewrote letters to his parents regularly for some years, and in his lastletter told his friends that he was going farther into the bush insearch of gold. For years they waited for further news, which neverarrived; and he was never heard of again, to the great grief of hisfather and mother and other members of the family. It was a hazardousbusiness exploring the wilds of Australia in those days, and it wasquite possible that it was only the numerical strength of Burke's partyand of the search-party itself that saved them from a similar fate. 

But many people attributed the misfortunes of the expedition to thenumber who took part in it, as there was a great prejudice against thenumber thirteen both at home and abroad. We had often, indeed, heard itsaid that if thirteen persons sat down to dinner together, one of theirnumber would die! Some people thought that the legend had someconnection with the Lord's Supper, the twelve Apostles bringing thenumber up to thirteen, while others attributed it to a much earlierperiod. In Norse mythology, thirteen was considered unlucky, because ata banquet in Valhalla, the Scandinavian heaven, where twelve had satdown, Loki intruded and made the number thirteen, and Baldur was killed. 

The Italians and even the Turks had strong objections to the numberthirteen, and it never appeared on any of the doors on the streets ofParis, where, to avoid thirteen people sitting down to dinner, personsnamed Quatorziennes were invited to make a fourteenth:

 _Jamais on ne devrait Se mettre a table treize, Mais douze c'est parfait_. 

My brother thought the saying was only a catch, for it would be equallytrue to say all would die as one. He was quite prepared to run the riskof being the thirteenth to sit down to dinner, but that was when he feltvery hungry, and even hinted that there might be no necessity for theothers to sit down at all!

But we must return to Totnes and its bridge, and follow the long narrowstreet immediately before us named Fore Street until we reach "theArch, " or East Gate. The old-fashioned houses to the right and left werea great attraction to my brother, who had strong antiquarianpredilections, and when he saw the old church and castle, he began totalk of staying there for the rest of the day and I had some difficultyin getting him along. Fortunately, close at hand there was a quaintElizabethan mansion doing duty as a refreshment house, with all mannerof good things in the windows and the word "Beds" on a window in anupper storey. Here we called for refreshments, and got some coffee andsome good things to eat, with some of the best Devonshire cream we hadyet tasted. After an argument in which I pointed out the danger ofjeopardising our twenty-five-mile average walk by staying there, as itwas yet early in the forenoon, we settled matters in this way; we wouldleave our luggage in Totnes, walk round the town to the objects ofgreatest interest, then walk to Dartmouth and back, and stay the nighton our return, thus following to some extent the example of Brutus, theearliest recorded visitor:

 Here I stand and here I rest, And this place shall be called Totnes. 

[Illustration: TOTNES CHURCH WALK]

There was no doubt about the antiquity of Totnes, for Geoffrey ofMonmouth, the author of the famous old English Chronicle, a compilationfrom older authors, in his _Historia Britonum_, 1147, began his notes onTotnes not in the time of the Saxons nor even with the Roman Occupation, but with the visit of Brutus, hundreds of years before the Christianera. Brutus of Troy had a strange career. His mother died in giving himbirth, and he accidentally shot his father with an arrow when outhunting. Banished from Italy, he took refuge in Greece, where it wassaid he married a daughter of the King, afterwards sailing to discover anew country. Arriving off our shores, he sailed up the River Dart untilhe could get no farther, and then landed at the foot of the hill whereTotnes now stands. The stone on which he first set foot was everafterwards known as Brutus's stone, and was removed for safety near tothe centre of the town; where for ages the mayor or other official gaveout all royal proclamations from it, such as the accessions to thethrone--the last before our visit having been that of her most graciousMajesty Queen Victoria. 

The Charter of Totnes was dated 1205, the mayor claiming precedence overthe Lord Mayor of London, for Totnes, if not the oldest, was one of theoldest boroughs in England. It was therefore not to be wondered at thatthe Corporation possessed many curios: amongst them were the originalring to which the bull was fastened when bull-baiting formed one of thepastimes in England; a very ancient wooden chest; the staves used by theconstables in past generations; a curious arm-chair used by the townclerk; a list of mayors from the year 1377 to the present time; twooriginal proclamations by Oliver Cromwell; many old placards ofimportant events; an exceptionally fine fourteenth-century frieze; awater-pipe formed out of the trunk of an elm tree; the old stocks; andan engraving representing the arrival of William of Orange at Brixham. 

There was a church at Totnes in the time of the Conquest, for it wasmentioned in a charter by which "Judhel de Totnais, " the Norman Baron towhom the Conqueror gave the borough, granted the "Ecclesiam Sancte Mariede Toteneo" to the Benedictine Abbey at Angers; but the present churchwas built in 1432 by Bishop Lacy, who granted a forty-days' indulgencefor all who contributed to the work. His figure and coat-of-arms werestill to be seen on the church tower, which was 120 feet high, with thewords in raised stone letters, "I made the Tour. " There was also afigure of St. Loe, the patron Saint of artificers in brass and iron, whowas shown in the act of shoeing a horse. The corporation appeared tohave had control of the church, and in 1450 had erected the altarscreen, which was perhaps the most striking object there, for after therestoration, which was in progress at the time of our visit, of ninestone screens in Devon churches, excepting that in Exeter Cathedral, itclaimed to be the most beautiful. 

In the church there was also an elaborate brass candelabrum for eighteenlights with this suitable inscription:

 Thy Word is a Lantern to my Feet And a light unto my Path. _Donum Dei et Deo_ 17th May 1701. 

The corporation has also some property in the church in the shape ofelaborately carved stalls erected in 1636; also an ancient Bible andPrayer Book handsomely bound for the use of the mayor, and presentedApril 12th, 1690, by the Honble. Lady Anne Seymour of Berry PomeroyCastle, whose autograph the books contain; and in the Parvise Chamberattached to the church there were about 300 old books dating from 1518to 1676, one a copy of Sir Walter Raleigh's _History of the World_, published in 1634. 

The carved stone pulpit, of the same date as the screen, had at one timebeen divided into Gothic panels, on which were shields designed torepresent the twelve sons of Israel: Judah was represented by a lioncouchant, Zebulon by a ship under sail, Issachar as a laden ass resting, and Dan as a serpent coiled with head erect, and so on according to thedescription given of each of the sons in the forty-ninth chapter ofGenesis. 

There were a number of monuments in the church, the principal being thatof Christopher Blacall, who died in 1635. He was represented as kneelingdown in the attitude of prayer, while below were shown his four wives, also kneeling. 

The conductor showed us the very fine organ, which before being placedthere had been exhibited at the Great Exhibition in London in 1851; andwe also saw the key of the church door, which, as well as the lock, hadbeen in use for quite four hundred years. 

[Illustration: SEXTON'S COTTAGE, TOTNES. ]

We then paid a hurried visit to the ruins of the old castle, which inthe time of Henry VIII was described by Leland the antiquary as "TheCastelle waul and the strong dungeon be maintained; but the logginges ofthe Castelle be cleane in ruine"; but about thirty years before ourvisit the Duke of Somerset, the representative of the Seymour family, laid out the grounds and made of them quite a nice garden, with a flightof steps of easy gradient leading to the top of the old Norman Keep, from which we had a fine view of the country between Dartmoor and thesea. 

Totnes was supposed to have been the Roman "Ad Darium, " at the end ofthe Fosse Way, and was also the famous harbour of the Celts where thegreat Vortigern was overthrown by Ambrosius. As the seas were infestedwith pirates, ports were chosen well up the estuaries of rivers, oftenat the limit of the tides; and Totnes, to which point the Dart is stillnavigated, remained of importance from Saxon times, through thestruggles with the Danes until the arrival of the Normans; after this itwas gradually superseded by Dartmouth. 

At Totnes, when we asked the way to Dartmouth, the people jocularly toldus that the only direct way was by boat down the river; but our rulesand regulations would not permit of our going that way, so we decided tokeep as near to the river as we could on the outward journey and find analternative route on our return. This was a good idea, but we found itvery difficult to carry out in the former case, owing to the streamswhich the River Dart receives on both sides on its way towards the sea. Relieved of the weight of our luggage, we set off at a good speed acrossfields and through woods, travelling along lanes the banks of whichwere in places covered with ferns. In Cheshire we had plenty of bracken, but very few ferns, but here they flourished in many varieties. Agentleman whom we met rambling along the river bank told us there wereabout forty different kinds of ferns and what he called "fern allies" tobe found in the lanes and meadows in Devonshire. He said it was alsonoted for fungi, in which he appeared to be more interested than in theferns, telling us there were six or seven hundred varieties, some ofthem being very beautiful both in colour and form; but we never caredvery much for these, as we thought them too much akin to poisonoustoadstools. We asked him why the lanes in Devonshire were so much belowthe surface of the land, and he said they had been constructed in thatway in very ancient times to hide the passage of cattle and producebelonging to the British from the sight of their Saxon oppressors. Hecomplained strongly of the destruction of ferns by visitors frompopulous places, who thought they would grow in their gardens orback-yards, and carried the roots away with them to be planted inpositions where they were sure to die. In later years, it was said, young ladies and curates advertised hampers of Devonshire ferns for saleto eke out their small incomes; and when this proved successful, regulardealers did the same, and devastated woods and lanes by rooting up theferns and almost exterminating some of the rarer kinds; but when theCounty Councils were formed, this wholesale destruction was forbidden. 

[Illustration: SHARPHAM ON THE DART. ]

We had a fairly straight course along the river for two or three miles, and on our way called to see an enormous wych-elm tree in Sharpham Park, the branches of which were said to cover a quarter of an acre of ground. It was certainly an enormous tree, much the largest we had seen of thatvariety, for the stem was about sixteen feet in girth and the leadingbranches about eighty feet long and nine feet in circumference. The Hallstood on an eminence overlooking the river, with great woods surroundingit, and the windings of the river from this point looked like a numberof meres or lakes, while the gardens and woods of Sharpham were secondto none in the County of Devon. Near the woods we passed a smallcottage, which seemed to be at the end of everywhere, and was knownlocally as the "World's End. " The first watery obstruction we came towas where the River Harbourne entered the River Dart, and here we turnedaside along what was known as the Bow Creek, walking in ago-as-you-please way through lovely wooded and rocky scenery until wereached a water-mill. We had seen several herons on our way, a ratherscarce bird, and we were told there was a breeding-place for them atSharpham, together with a very large rookery. We passed Cornworthy, where there was an old church and a prehistoric camp, and some ruins ofa priory of Augustinian nuns which existed there in the fourteenthcentury; but we had no time to explore them, and hastened on toDittisham, where we regained the bank of the River Dart. This wasanother of the places we had arrived at either too late or too early, for it was famous for its plums, which grew in abundance at both Higherand Lower Dittisham, the bloom on the trees there forming a lovely sightin spring. A great many plums known as damsons were grown in Cheshire, and in olden times were allowed to remain on the trees until the lightfrosts came in late September or early October, as it was consideredthat they had not attained their full flavour until then; but in latertimes as soon as they were black they were hurried off to market, forthey would crush in packing if left until thoroughly ripe. 

Dittisham was also noted for its cockles and shrimps. The river herewidened until it assumed the appearance of a lake about two miles wide, and the steamboat which plied between Totnes and Dartmouth landedpassengers at Dittisham. As it lay about half way between the twoplaces, it formed a favourite resort for visitors coming either way, andtea and cockles or tea and shrimps or, at the right time, tea anddamsons--might be obtained at almost any of the pleasant little cottageswhich bordered the river. These luxuries could be combined with a walkthrough lovely scenery or a climb up the Fire Beacon Hill, about 600feet above sea-level; or rowing-boats could be had if required, and wewere informed that many visitors stayed about there in the season. 

Across the river were several notable places: Sandbridge to the left andGreenway to the right. At Sandbridge was born the famous navigator JohnDavis, who was the first to explore the Arctic regions. On June 7th, 1575, he left Dartmouth with two small barques--the _Sunshine_, 50 tons, carrying 23 men, and the _Moonshine_, 35 tons, and 19 men--and aftermany difficulties reached a passage between Greenland and NorthAmerica, which was so narrowed between the ice that it was named Davis'Straits. He made other voyages to the Arctic regions, and was said tohave discovered Hudson's Straits. Afterwards he sailed several times tothe East Indies; but whilst returning from one of these expeditions waskilled on December 27th, 1605, in a fight with some Malay pirates on thecoast of Malacca. 

Greenway House, on the other hand, was at one time the residence ofthose two remarkable half-brothers Sir Humphrey Gilbert and Sir WalterRaleigh, and it was there that Sir Walter planted the first potato evergrown in England, which he had brought from abroad. As he was the firstto introduce tobacco, it was probably at Greenway that his servantcoming in with a jug of beer, and seeing his master as he thoughtburning, threw it in his face--"to put his master out, " as he afterwardsexplained. 

Sir Humphrey Gilbert appeared to have been a missionary as well as anexplorer, for it was recorded that he "set out to discover the remotecountries of America and to bring off those savages from theirdiabolical superstitions to the embracing of the Gospel, " which wouldprobably account for his having a Bible in his hand when he went downwith his ship--an event which in later years was immortalised byLongfellow:

 Eastward from Campobello Sir Humphrey Gilbert sailed; Three days or more seaward he bore. Then, alas! the land wind failed. 

 * * * * *

 He sat upon the deck, The Book was in his hand; "Do not fear, Heaven is as near, " He said, "by water as by land!"

Beyond Dittisham the river turned towards Dartmouth through a verynarrow passage, with a dangerous rock near the centre, now called theAnchor Stone, which was covered at high water. It appeared, however, tohave been used in former times to serve the purpose of theducking-stool, for the men of Dartmouth and Dittisham brought scoldsthere and placed them on the rock at low water for immersion with therising tide, whence it became known-as the "Scold's Stone. " One hour onthe stone was generally sufficient for a scolding woman, for she couldsee the approach of the water that would presently rise well above herwaist, and very few chose to remain on the stone rather than repent, although of course it was open to them to do so. 

After negotiating the intricacies of one other small creek, we enteredthe ancient town of Dartmouth highly delighted with our lovely trampalong the River Dart. 

We were now in a nautical area, and could imagine the excitement thatwould be caused amongst the natives when the beacon fires warned them ofthe approach of the Spanish Armada, for Dartmouth was then regarded as acreek of Plymouth Harbour. 

 The great fleet invincible against us bore in vain The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain. 

[Illustration: THE MOUTH OF THE DART FROM MOUNT BOONE. ]

Dartmouth is one of the most picturesquely situated towns in England, and the two castles, one on either side of the narrow and deep mouth ofthe Dart, added to the beauty of the scene and reminded us of the timeswhen we were continually at war with our neighbours across the Channel. The castles were only small, but so were the ships that crossed the seasin those days, and they would no doubt be considered formidablefortresses then. At low tide the Dart at that point was never less thanfive yards deep, and in the dark it was an easy matter for a ship topass through unobserved. To provide against this contingency, accordingto a document in the possession of the Corporation dating from thetwenty-first year of the reign of King Edward IV, a grant of £30 perannum out of the Customs was made to the "Mayor, Bailiffs, and Burgessesof Dartmouth, who had begonne to make a strong and myghte Toure of lymeand stone adjoining the Castelle there, " and who were also to "fynde acheyne sufficient in length and strength to streche and be laideover-thwarte or a travers the mouth of the haven of Dartmouth" fromDartmouth Castle to Kingswear Castle on the opposite bank to keep outall intruders. This "myghte cheyne" was raised across the entrance everynight so that no ships could get through, and the groove through whichit passed was still to be seen. 

Dartmouth Castle stood low down on a point of land on the seashore, andhad two towers, the circular one having been built in the time of HenryVIII. Immediately adjoining it was a very small church of a much earlierdate than the castle, dedicated to St. Petrox, a British saint of thesixth century. Behind the castle and the church was a hill calledGallants' Bower, formerly used as a beacon station, the hollow on thesummit having been formed to protect the fire from the wind. This rockpartly overhung the water and served to protect both the church and thecastle. Kingswear Castle, on the opposite side of the water, was builtin the fourteenth century, and had only one tower, the space between thetwo castles being known as the "Narrows. " They were intended to protectthe entrance to the magnificent harbour inland; but there were otherdefences, as an Italian spy in 1599, soon after the time of the SpanishArmada, reported as follows:

 Dartmouth is not walled--the mountains are its walls. Deep water is everywhere, and at the entrance five yards deep at low water. Bastion of earth at entrance with six or eight pieces of artillery; farther in is a castle with 24 pieces and 50 men, and then another earth bastion with six pieces. 

The harbour was at one time large enough to hold the whole British navy, and was considered very safe, as the entrance could be so easilydefended, but its only representative now appeared to be an enormousthree-decker wooden ship, named the _Britannia_, used as a training-shipfor naval officers. It seemed almost out of place there, and quitedwarfed the smaller boats in the harbour, one deck rising above another, and all painted black and white. We heard afterwards that the real_Britannia_, which carried the Admiral's flag in the Black Sea early inthe Crimean War, had been broken up in 1870, the year before our visit, having done duty at Dartmouth as a training-ship since 1863. The ship wenow saw was in reality the _Prince of Wales_, also a three-decker, andthe largest and last built of "England's wooden walls, " carrying 128guns. She had been brought round to Dartmouth in 1869 and rechristened_Britannia_, forming the fifth ship of that name in the British navy. 

[Illustration: H. M. S. _BRITANNIA_ AND _HINDUSTANI_ AT THE MOUTH OF THEDART. ]

It was in that harbour that the ships were assembled in 1190 during theCrusades, to join Richard Coeur-de-Lion at Messina. In his absenceDartmouth was stormed by the French, and for two centuries alternatewarlike visits were made to the sea-coasts of England and France. 

In 1338 the Dartmouth sailors captured five French ships, and murderedall their crews except nine men; and in 1347, when the large armamentsailed under Edward III to the siege of Calais, the people of Dartmouth, who in turn had suffered much from the French, contributed the largenumber of 31 ships and 757 mariners to the King's Fleet, the largestnumber from any port, except Fowey and London. 

In 1377 the town was partly burnt by the French, and in 1403 Dartmouthcombined with Plymouth, and their ships ravaged the coasts of France, where, falling in with the French fleet, they destroyed and capturedforty-one of the enemy. 

In the following year, 1404, the French attempted to avenge themselves, and landed near Stoke Fleming, about three miles outside Dartmouth, witha view to attacking the town in the rear; but owing to the loquacity ofone of the men connected with the enterprise the inhabitants wereforewarned and prepared accordingly. Du Chatel, a Breton Knight, was theleader of the Expedition, and came over, as he said, "to exterminate thevipers"; but when he landed, matters turned out "otherwise than he hadhoped, " for the Dartmouth men had dug a deep ditch near the seacoast, and 600 of them were strongly entrenched behind it, many with theirwives, "who fought like wild cats. " They were armed with slings, withwhich they made such good practice that scores of the Bretons fell inthe ditch, where the men finished them off, and the rest of the forceretreated, leaving 400 dead and 200 prisoners in the hands of theEnglish. 

[Illustration: OLD HOUSES IN HIGHER STREET, DARTMOUTH]

In 1620 the Pilgrim Fathers called at Dartmouth with their ships_Speedwell_ and _Mayflower_, as the captain of the _Speedwell_ (who itwas afterwards thought did not want to cross the Atlantic) complainedthat his ship needed repairs, but on examination she was pronouncedseaworthy. The same difficulty occurred when they reached Plymouth, withthe result that the _Mayflower_ sailed alone from that port, carryingthe Fathers to form a new empire of Englishmen in the New World. 

We were delighted with the old towns on the south coast--so differentfrom those we had seen on the west; they seemed to have borrowed some oftheir quaint semi-foreign architecture from those across the Channel. The town of Dartmouth was a quaint old place and one of the oldestboroughs in England. It contained, both in its main street and thenarrow passages leading out of it, many old houses with projectingwooden beams ornamented with grotesque gargoyles and many otherexquisite carvings in a good state of preservation. Like Totnes, thetown possessed a "Butter Walk, " built early in the seventeenth century, where houses supported by granite pillars overhung the pavement. In onehouse there was a plaster ceiling designed to represent the Scripturalgenealogy of our Saviour from Jesse to the Virgin Mary, and at each ofthe four corners appeared one of the Apostles: St. Matthew with the bullor ox, St. Luke with the eagle, St. Mark with the lion, and St. Johnwith the attendant angel---probably a copy of the Jesse stained-glasswindows, in which Jesse is represented in a recumbent posture with avine or tree rising out of his loins as described by Isaiah, xi. I: "Andthere shall come forth a Rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a Branchshall grow out of his roots. "

The churches in Dartmouth were well worth a visit. St. Saviour's, builtin 1372, contained an elaborately carved oak screen, one of the finestin the county and of singular beauty, erected in the fifteenth century. It was in perfect condition, and spread above the chancel in the form ofa canopy supporting the rood-loft, with beautiful carving and paintedfigures in panels. The pulpit was of stone, richly carved and gilt, andshowed the Tudor rose and portcullis, with the thistle, harp, andfleur-de-lys; there were also some seat-ends nicely carved and some oldchandeliers dated 1701--the same date as the fine one we saw in thechurch at Totnes. 

[Illustration: ST. SAVIOUR'S CHURCH, DARTMOUTH. ]

The chancel contained the tomb, dated 1394, of John Hawley, who died in1408, and his two wives--Joan who died in 1394, and Alice who died in1403. Hawley was a rich merchant, and in the war against France equippedat his own expense a fleet, which seemed to have been of good service tohim, for in 1389 he captured thirty-four vessels from Rochelle, ladenwith 1, 500 tons of wine. John Stow, a famous antiquary of the sixteenthcentury, mentioned this man in his _Annals_ as "the merchant ofDartmouth who in 1390 waged war with the navies and ships of the portsof our own shores, " and "took 34 shippes laden with wyne to the sum offifteen hundred tunnes, " so we considered Hawley must have been a pirateof the first degree. 

There was a brass in the chancel with this inscription, the moral ofwhich we had seen expressed in so many different forms elsewhere:

 Behold thyselfe by me, I was as thou art now: And them in time shalt be Even dust as I am now; So doth this figure point to thee The form and state of each degree. 

[Illustration: ANCIENT DOOR IN ST. SAVIOUR'S CHURCH]

The gallery at the west end was built in 1631, and there was a door inthe church of the same date, but the ironwork on this was said to be twohundred years older, having probably been transferred to it from aformer door. It was one of the most curious we had ever seen. Twoanimals which we took to be lions were impaled on a tree with roots, branches, and leaves. One lion was across the tree just under the topbranches, and the other lion was across it at the bottom just above theroots, both standing with their heads to the right and facing thebeholder; but the trunk of the tree seemed to have grown through each oftheir bodies, giving the impression that they were impaled upon it. Thedate of the woodwork (1631) was carved underneath the body of the lionat the top, the first figure in the date appearing to the left and theremaining three to the right, while the leaves on the tree resembledthose of the oak. Whether the lions were connected in any way with thoseon the borough coat-of-arms we did not know, but this bore a lion oneither side of it, the hinder portion of their bodies hanging over eachside of an ancient boat and their faces being turned towards thespectator, while a crowned king, evidently meant for RichardCoeur-de-Lion, was sitting between them--the lions being intended torepresent the Lions of Judah. The King was crowned, but above him, suspended over the boat, was a much larger crown, and underneath thatand in the air to the left, but slightly above the King's crown, was theTurkish Crescent, while in a similar position to the right wasrepresented the Star of Jerusalem. 

The original parish church of Dartmouth, on the outskirts of the town, contained two rather remarkable epitaphs:

 Here lyeth buried the Bodie of Robert Holland who Departed this life 1611 beinge of The age of 54 years 5 months and odd dayes. Here lies a breathless body and doth showe What man is, when God claims, what man doth owe. His soule a guest his body a trouble His tyme an instant, and his breath a bubble. Come Lord Jesus, come quickly. 

The other was worded:

 William Koope, of Little Dartmouth dyed in Bilbao January the 30th, 1666, in the 6 yeare of his abode there beinge embalmed and put into a Leaden Coffin, was, after Tenn Weekes Tossinge on the seas, here Below interred May ye 23 AO. DOM. 1667 Ætates svæ 35. 

Thomas Newcomen, born at Dartmouth in 1663, was the first man to employsteam power in Cornish mines, and the real inventor of the steam engine. The first steamboat on the River Dart was named after him. 

In the time of the Civil War Dartmouth was taken by the Royalists, whoheld it for a time, but later it was attacked from both land and sea byFairfax, and surrendered to the Parliament. Immediately afterwards arather strange event happened, as a French ship conveying despatches forthe Royalists from the Queen, Lord Goring, and others, who were inFrance, entered the port, the captain being ignorant of the change thathad just taken place. On hearing that the Parliament was in possession, he threw his despatches overboard. These were afterwards recovered andsent up to Parliament, where they were found to be of a very importantnature--in fact, the discoveries made in them were said to have had someeffect in deciding the fate of King Charles himself. 

We had now to face our return journey to Totnes, so we fortifiedourselves with a substantial tea, and then began our dark and lonelywalk of twelve miles by the alternative route, as it was useless toattempt to find the other on a dark night. We had, however, become quiteaccustomed to this kind of thing, and though we went astray on oneoccasion and found ourselves in a deep and narrow road, we soon regainedthe hard road we had left. The thought of the lovely country we had seenthat day, and the pretty places we had visited, cheered us on our way, and my brother said he should visit that neighbourhood again beforelong. I did not treat his remark seriously at the time, thinking itequivalent to the remarks in hotel books where visitors express theirunfulfilled intention of coming again. But when on May 29th, 1873, alovely day of sunshine, my brother departed with one of the handsomestgirls in the village for what the newspapers described as "London andthe South, " and when we received a letter informing us that they wereboth very well and very happy, and amusing themselves by watching thesalmon shooting up the deep weir on the River Dart, and sailing in asmall boat with a sail that could easily be worked with one hand, andhad sailed along the river to Dartmouth and back, I was not surprisedwhen I found that the postmark on the envelope was TOTNES. 

In his letter to me on that occasion, he said he had received from hismother his "marching orders" for his next long journey; and although herletter is now old and the ink faded, the "orders" are still firmly fixedwhere that good old writer intended them to be, and, as my brother said, they deserved to be written in letters of gold:

 =_My earnest desire is that you may both be happy, and that whatever you do may be to the glory of God and the good of your fellow-creatures, and that at the last you may be found with your lamps burning and your lights shining, waiting for the coming of the Lord!_=

(_Distance walked thirty-one-miles_. )

_Tuesday, November 14th. _

We had made good progress yesterday in consequence of not having tocarry any luggage, but we had now to carry our belongings again asusual. 

Totnes, we learned, was a walled town in the time of the DomesdaySurvey, and was again walled in 1265 by permission of Henry III. Of thefour gates then existing, only two now remained, the North and the East;they were represented by archways, the gates themselves having longsince disappeared. We passed under the Eastgate Archway, which supporteda room in which were two carved heads said to represent King Henry VIIIand his unfortunate wife Anne Boleyn; and with a parting glance at theancient Butter Cross and piazzas, which reminded us somewhat of theancient Rows in Chester, we passed out into the country wondering whatour day's walk would have in store for us. 

We had thought of crossing over the centre of Dartmoor, but found it amuch larger and wilder place than we had imagined, embracing over100, 000 acres of land and covering an area of about twenty-five squaremiles, while in the centre were many swamps or bogs, very dangerous, especially in wet or stormy weather. There were also many hills, or"tors, " rising to a considerable elevation above sea-level, and rangingfrom Haytor Rocks at 1, 491 feet to High Willheys at 2, 039 feet. Mistsand clouds from the Atlantic were apt to sweep suddenly over the Moorand trap unwary travellers, so that many persons had perished in thebogs from time to time; and the clouds striking against the rocky torscaused the rainfall to be so heavy that the Moor had been named the"Land of Streams. " One of the bogs near the centre of the Moor was neverdry, and formed a kind of shallow lake out of which rose five rivers, the Ockment or Okement, the Taw, the Tavy, the Teign, and the Dart, thelast named and most important having given its name to the Moor. Besidesthese, the Avon, Erme, Meavy, Plym, and Yealm, with many tributarybrooks, all rise in Dartmoor. 

Devonshire was peculiar in having no forests except that of Dartmoor, which was devoid of trees except a small portion called Wistman's Woodin the centre, but the trees in this looked so old and stunted as tomake people suppose they had existed there since the time of theConquest, while others thought they had originally formed one of thesacred groves connected with Druidical worship, since legend stated thatliving men had been nailed to them and their bodies left there to decay. The trees were stunted and only about double the height of anaverage-sized man, but with wide arms spread out at the top twisted andtwined in all directions. Their roots were amongst great boulders, whereadders' nests abounded, so that it behoved visitors to be doubly carefulin very hot weather. We could imagine the feelings of a solitarytraveller in days gone by, with perhaps no living being but himself formiles, crossing this dismal moor and coming suddenly on the remains ofone of these crucified sacrificial victims. 

Not far from Wistman's Wood was Crockern Tor, on the summit of which, according to the terms of an ancient charter, the Parliament dealingwith the Stannary Courts was bound to assemble, the tables and seats ofthe members being hewn out of the solid rock or cut from great blocks ofstone. The meetings at this particular spot of the Devon and CornwallStannary men continued until the middle of the eighteenth century. Afterthe jury had been sworn and other preliminaries arranged, the Parliamentadjourned to the Stannary towns, where its courts of record were openedfor the administration of Justice among the "tinners, " the word Stannarybeing derived from the Latin "Stannum, " meaning tin. 

Some of the tors still retained their Druidical names, such as Bel-Tor, Ham-Tor, Mis-Tor; and there were many remains of altars, logans, andcromlechs scattered over the moors, proving their great antiquity andpointing to the time when the priests of the Britons burned incense andoffered human victims as sacrifices to Bel and Baal and to the Heavenlybodies. 

There was another contingency to be considered in crossing Dartmoor inthe direction we had intended--especially in the case of a solitarytraveller journeying haphazard--and that was the huge prison built bythe Government in the year 1808 on the opposite fringe of the Moor toaccommodate prisoners taken during the French wars, and since convertedinto an ordinary convict settlement. It was seldom that a convictescaped, for it was very difficult to cross the Moor, and the prisondress was so well known all over the district; but such cases hadoccurred, and one of these runaways, to whom a little money and a changeof raiment would have been acceptable, might have been a source ofinconvenience, if not of danger, to any unprotected traveller, whom hecould have compelled to change clothing. 

We therefore decided to go round the Moor instead of over it, and visitthe town of Plymouth, which otherwise we should not have seen. 

The whole of Dartmoor was given by Edward III to his son the BlackPrince, when he gave him the title of Duke of Cornwall after hisvictorious return from France, and it still belonged to the Duchy ofCornwall, and was the property of the Crown; but all the Moor was openand free to visitors, who could follow their own route in crossing it, though in places it was gradually being brought into cultivation, especially in the neighbourhood of the many valleys which in the courseof ages had been formed by the rivers on their passage towards the sea. As our road for some miles passed along the fringe of the great Moor, and as the streams crossed it in a transverse direction, on our way toPlymouth we passed over six rivers, besides several considerable brooks, after leaving the River Dart at Totnes. These rivers were named theHarbourne, Avon, Lud, Erme, Yealm, and Plym, all flowing from Dartmoor;and although there was such a heavy rainfall on the uplands, it was saidthat no one born and bred thereon ever died of pulmonary consumption. The beauty of Dartmoor lay chiefly along its fringes, where ancientvillages stood securely sheltered along the banks of these streams; butin their higher reaches were the remains of "hut circles" andprehistoric antiquities of the earliest settlers, and relics ofNeolithic man were supposed to be more numerous than elsewhere inEngland. 

There was no doubt in our minds that the earliest settlers were thosewho landed on the south coast, and in occupying the country theynaturally chose positions where a good supply of water was available, both for themselves and their cattle. The greater the number of runningstreams, the greater would be the number of the settlers. Some of thewildest districts in these southern countries, where solitude nowprevailed, bore evidence of having, at one time, been thickly populated. 

We did not attempt to investigate any of these pretty valleys, as wewere anxious to reach Plymouth early in order to explore that town, sothe only divergence we made from the beaten track was when we came toIvybridge, on the River Erme. The ivy of course flourished everywhere, but it was particularly prolific in some parts of Devon, and here it hadnot only covered the bridge, over which we crossed, but seemed inclinedto invade the town, to which it had given its name. The townspeople hadnot then objected to its intrusion, perhaps because, being always green, it was considered to be an emblem of everlasting life--or was it becausein Roman mythology it was sacred to Bacchus, the God of Wine? InEgyptian mythology the ivy was sacred to Osiris, the Judge of the Deadand potentate of the kingdom of ghosts; but in our minds it wasassociated with our old friend Charles Dickens, who had died in theprevious year, and whom we had once heard reading selections from hisown writings in his own inimitable way. His description of the ivy iswell worth recording--not that he was a poet, but he once wrote a songfor Charles Russell to sing, entitled "The Ivy Green ":

 Oh! a dainty plant is the ivy green. That creepeth o'er ruins old! Of right choice food are its meals, I ween; In its cell so lone and cold. The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed, To pleasure his dainty whim, And the mouldering dust that years have made Is a dainty meal for him. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the ivy green. 

 Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings. And a staunch old heart hath he: How closely he twineth, how tight he clings. To his friend the huge oak tree; And slyly he traileth along the ground, And his leaves he gently waves As he joyously hugs and crawleth around The rich mould of dead men's graves. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the ivy green. 

 Whole ages have fled, and their works decayed, And nations have scattered been; But the stout old ivy shall never fade From its hale and hearty green; The brave old plant in its lonely days Shall fatten upon the past, For the stateliest building man can raise Is the ivy's food at last. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the ivy green. 

It is remarkable that the ivy never clings to a poisonous tree, but thetrees to which it so "closely twineth and tightly clings" it very oftenkills, even "its friend the huge oak tree. "

Near the bridge we stayed at a refreshment house to replenish the innerman, and the people there persuaded us to ramble along the track of theRiver Erme to a spot which "every visitor went to see"; so leaving ourluggage, we went as directed. We followed the footpath under the treesthat lined the banks of the river, which rushed down from the moor aboveas if in a great hurry to meet us, and the miniature waterfalls formedin dashing over the rocks and boulders that impeded its progress lookedvery pretty. Occasionally it paused a little in its progress to formsmall pools in which were mirrored the luxuriant growth of moss andferns sheltering beneath the branches of the trees; but it was soon awayagain to form similar pretty pictures on its way down the valley. Wewere pleased indeed that we had not missed this charming bit of scenery. 

Emerging from the dell, we returned by a different route, and saw in thedistance the village of Harford, where in the church a brass had beenplaced to the Prideaux family by a former Bishop of Worcester. Thisbishop was a native of that village, and was in a humble position whenhe applied for the post of parish clerk of a neighbouring village, wherehis application was declined. He afterwards went to work at Oxford, andwhile he was there made the acquaintance of a gentleman who recognisedhis great talents, and obtained admission for him to one of thecolleges. He rose from one position to another until he became Bishopof Worcester, and in after life often remarked that if he had beenappointed parish clerk he would never have become a bishop. 

We recovered our luggage and walked quickly to Plymouth, where wearrived in good time, after an easy day's walk. We had decided to stopthere for the night and, after securing suitable apartments, went outinto the town. The sight of so many people moving backwards and forwardshad quite a bewildering effect upon us after walking through moors andrather sleepy towns for such a long period; but after being amongst thecrowds for a time, we soon became accustomed to our alteredsurroundings. As a matter of course, our first visit was to the PlymouthHoe, and our first thoughts were of the great Spanish Armada. 

[Illustration: SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. _From the picture in the possession ofSir T. F. Elliot Drake. _]

The position of England as the leading Protestant country, with the factof the refusal of Queen Elizabeth when the King of Spain proposedmarriage, made war between the two countries almost certain. Drake hadalso provoked hostilities, for he had sailed to the West Indies in 1587, and after defeating the Spaniards there had entered the Bay of Cadizwith thirty ships and destroyed 10, 000 tons of shipping--an achievementwhich he described as "singeing the whiskers of the King of Spain. " Inconsequence of this Philip, King of Spain, declared war on Elizabeth, Queen of England, and raised a great army of ships to overwhelm theEnglish. 

It was on Friday, July 19, 1588, that Captain Thomas Fleming, in chargeof the pinnace _Golden Hind_, ran into Plymouth Sound with the news thatthe Spanish Armada was off the Lizard. The English captains were playingbowls on Plymouth Hoe when Captain Fleming arrived in hot haste toinform them that when his ship was off the French coast they had seenthe Spanish fleet approaching in the distance, and had put on all sailto bring the news. This was the more startling because the English stillbelieved it to be refitting in its own ports and unlikely to come outthat year. Great excitement prevailed among the captains; but Drake, whoknew all that could be known of the Spanish ships, and their way offighting, had no fear of the enemy, and looked upon them with contempt, coolly remarking that they had plenty of time to finish the game andthrash the Spaniards afterwards. The beacon fires were lighted duringthe night, and--

 Swift to east and swift to west The ghastly war-flame spread; High on St. Michael's Mount it shone, It shone on Beachy Head. Far on the deep the Spaniards saw Along each southern shire Cape beyond cape, in endless range Those twinkling points of fire. 

The Armada consisted of 131 large ships accompanied by galleys armedwith heavy guns, and many smaller vessels, carrying 27, 345 men, of whom8, 050 were seamen and 19, 295 soldiers. The twelve largest ships werenamed after the twelve Apostles, and a hundred priests were distributedthrough the fleet, for King Philip was a very pious man, and the Armadahad been blessed by the Pope. They were under the command of the Duke ofMedina Sidonia, and the Spaniards, who were proverbially cruel, were sosure of victory that they had brought with them many strange instrumentsof torture, some of which we had seen in the Tower of London on ourvisit there the previous year. 

The Lord High Admiral of England was Lord Charles Howard, a grandson ofthe Duke of Norfolk and a cousin to Queen Elizabeth, besides being aleader of the Court circle. He had, however, been trained as a sailor, and the advice and assistance of such brave and experienced sailors asDrake, Hawkins, and Frobisher were sufficient to carry him through anycrisis. 

Drake had inspired his people so that none had any dread of theSpaniards or of their big ships, which were constructed for fighting atclose quarters only; while Drake pinned his faith on light ships, easilymanaged and capable of quick manoeuvring, but armed with big cannon, sothat he could pound away at a safe distance. Compared with the smallEnglish ships, the big ships of the Spaniards, with their hugesuperstructures, looked like castles floating on the sea, and the oceanseemed to groan beneath its heavy burden. But how astonished the Englishmust have been, both at the vast number and size of the ships composingthe Armada, proudly floating up the Channel in a formation resembling anarc or segment of a circle extending nearly seven miles. 

When the battle commenced, Lord Howard had only got together a fleet ofabout a hundred ships, but it soon became evident that the light andwell-handled ships of the English, with their more rapid sailing andclever manoeuvring, were more than a match for the much larger ships ofthe Spaniards. Sir Francis Drake followed the Armada closely during thenight, and came up with a large galleon commanded by Don Pedro de Valdezthat had been damaged in the fight, and this he captured with all onboard. The weather now began to grow stormy, and the strong gale whichsprang up during the night caused some of the Spanish ships to foul eachother, and the English captured several of them the next day. The windnow began to blow in all directions, and some of the Spanish shipsbecoming unmanageable, their formation was broken, so that there was nofixed order of battle. Meantime the shots from the English, whose boatswere lower in the water, had played havoc with the lofty hulls of theSpanish ships, whose shot often passed over the English and damagedtheir own vessels. 

The following day Howard was unable, for want of ammunition, to carry onthe fight, so he took the opportunity to divide his fleet into fourparts: the first he commanded himself, in the _Ark Royal_; the second heplaced under Sir Francis Drake in the _Revenge_; the third under SirJohn Hawkins in the _Victory_; and the fourth under Captain Frobisher inthe _Triumph_. 

[Illustration: SIR JOHN HAWKINS _Portrait from the "Horologia" publishedin 1620_]

When they came opposite the Isle of Wight the storm ceased and there wasa calm; but Sir John Hawkins contrived to get his ship the _Victory_alongside a large Portuguese galleon, the _Santa Aña_, and a singlecombat ensued. Both fleets watched the progress of the fight, theSpaniards being quite certain of their comrades' victory, while theEnglish placed their confidence in the bravery of their champion. It wasa stiff fight, in which many were killed and wounded, but at last theEnglish were seen swarming like ants up the sides of their opponents'great ship, and in a few moments her brave captain was seen handing hissword to Sir John Hawkins. The flag of Spain on the mast of the _SantaAña_ descended, and the white flag and red cross of St. George soonfloated in its place. Then arose a mighty cheer, and the triumphanthurrahs of the English proclaimed the victory to the anxious watchers onshore. But three huge Spanish galleons were rowed to the scene torecover the Portuguese ship, and Howard towed the _Ark Royal_ and the_Golden Lion_ to fight them. It was a desperately unequal fight, and theboats were for a time hidden from view by the smoke, but in the end thecheers of the English announced that the galleons had been driven offand the _Santa Aña_ lost to Spain. 

The Armada continued its progress towards the Straits of Dover, with theEnglish hanging on, and anchored off Calais; but by this time theEnglish fleet had been reinforced by many ships raised by privategentlemen and others, which brought the number to about 140. Howard nowdecided to draw the Spanish fleet from its anchorage, and Drake, turningeight of his oldest ships into fire-ships, distributed them in the nightamongst the enemy, ordering the crews to set them on fire and thenreturn in their small boats. The ships were piled up with inflammablematerial, with their guns loaded, and when these exploded, the Spaniardswere so terrified that they unfurled their sails, cut their cables, andso lost their anchors. They fled in confusion, many being seriouslydamaged in collision, but only to encounter the English ships _Revenge, Victory, Mary Rose_, and _Dreadnought_, which immediately attacked. Someof the Spanish vessels were captured and some were lost on the shores ofFrance and Holland; but the main body, much battered and with theircrews badly out of spirits, sailed on into the North Sea. Howard wasclose up to them east of the Firth of Forth, but shortage of water andprovisions, as well as of munitions, kept him from attacking, and withbad weather threatening he made for the Channel ports, and on August7th, 1588, the Lord High Admiral returned to England with his victoriousfleet. 

The remaining ships of the Armada encountered furious storms off thecoast of Ireland, where ten were sunk; and it was not until the end ofSeptember that the battered remnants of the once great fleet reached thecoast of Spain. 

Queen Elizabeth went in state to St. Paul's Cathedral to offer up thanksto the Almighty for the safety of her Kingdom and herself, and caused amedal to be struck bearing on it a fleet scattered by a tempest and thewords:

 He blew with His winds and they were scattered. 

Plymouth Hoe is an elevation between that town and the sea, and itshistory dates back to legendary ages, when Brutus and Corineus came toAlbion with their Trojan warriors, and found the land inhabited by greatgiants, who terrified their men with their enormous size and horridnoises. Still they were enabled to drive them away by hurling darts andspears into their bodies. The leader of the giant race of Albion wasGogmagog, who was the biggest of them all, but they wounded him badly inthe leg, as the story goes, and dragged him to Plymouth Hoe, where theytreated him kindly and healed his wounds. But the question arose whoshould be king, and it was decided to settle the matter by a wrestlingmatch, the winner to be king. The giants selected Gogmagog as theirchampion and the Trojans chose Corineus, brute strength and size on theone hand being matched by trained skill on the other. On the day fixedfor the combat the giants lined one side of the Hoe and the Trojans theother. At length Corineus succeeded in forcing Gogmagog to the ground. He fell on his back, the earth shaking with his weight and the airechoing with the noise of his mighty groan as the breath was forcedfrom his body. Then, after breathing a minute, Corineus rushed upon hisfallen foe, dragged him with a great effort to the edge of the cliff, and pushed him over. The giant fell on the rocks below, and his body wasbroken in pieces. 

Michael Drayton, whose birthplace we had passed in the Midlands, wrotein his _Polyolbion_ that there was a deadly combat between two giants"upon that lofty place the Hoe, " which took place after the arrival ofthe Trojans under Brutus of Troy, and that the figures of the twowrestlers, one bigger than the other, with clubs in their hands, werecut out in the turf on Plymouth Hoe, being renewed as time went on. Theyvanished when the citadel was built by King Charles II, though in thedigging of the foundations the great jaws and teeth of Gogmagog werefound. 

It was supposed that the last of the giants were named Gog and Magog, and were brought to London and chained in the palace of Bruté, whichstood on the site of the Guildhall there; their effigies were standingin the Guildhall in the reign of Henry V, but were destroyed in theGreat Fire of London. The present Gog and Magog in the Guildhall, 14feet high, were carved by Richard Saunders in 1708, and are known as the"City Giants. "

[Illustration: CITADEL GATE, PLYMOUTH. ]

We had often heard and read about Brutus, one of those mysterious menwhose history we could not fathom, for as far north as York we read in abook there that "Brutus settled in this country when the Prophet Eligoverned Israel and the Ark was taken from the Philistines, about 1140B. C. , or a century and a half later than when David was singing Psalmsin Jerusalem"; then the writer went on to say that a direct descendantof Brutus, King Ebrancus, anxious to find occupation for his twenty sonsand thirty daughters, built two cities, one of which was York; sopossibly the other city might have been London. 

Plymouth Hoe in the time of Drake was a piece of hilly common land witha gallows standing at one corner, and nearer the sea a water tower and abeacon to signal the approach of enemies. But it was also a place ofrecreation, and used for drilling soldiers and sailors. There werearchery butts, and there must also have been a bowling green, on whichthe captains of the fleet were playing bowls when the news reached themof the approach of the Spanish Armada. Amongst the English captains wereone from Cheshire, George de Beeston, of Beeston, and a near relative ofhis, Roger Townshend. Both had charge of leading ships, and wereknighted on board the _Ark_ by Lord Howard for their services. 

When we visited Plymouth Hoe we found it laid out with broad walks andlarge plots of grass, where sailors and soldiers were much in evidence. In later years the greater portion of the old Eddystone Lighthouse wasre-erected there, from the cage on the top of which was a very fine viewover Plymouth Sound, one of the most beautiful in England. Besides thetown and the famous Hoe there could be seen, seawards, Drake's or St. Nicholas' Island, the famous Breakwater, and the still more famousEddystone Lighthouse, while on the Cornish side were the beautiful woodsof Mount Edgcumbe reaching down to the water's edge. Then there was theestuary of the River Tamar, called the Hamoaze, with the huge railwaybridge crossing it to Saltash, the frame of the general picture beingformed by the hills which surrounded Plymouth, including those ofDartmoor in the background. 

 O the fair Town of Plymouth is by the sea-side, The Sound is so blue and so still and so wide, Encircled with hills, and with forests all green, As a crown of fresh leaves on the head of a queen. O dear Plymouth town, and O blue Plymouth Sound! O where is your equal on earth to be found?

Eddystone Lighthouse, the top of which could just be seen from the Hoe, stood on a group of rocks nine miles from the Cornish Coast and fourteenmiles from Plymouth. These rocks were covered at high water by the sea, and were so dangerous to ships moving in and out of Plymouth or alongthe coast, that a lighthouse of wood was built on them in the year 1700, which was washed away by a great storm three years afterwards, when thelighthouse people perished as well as the unfortunate architect, Winstanley, who happened to be there on a visit at the time. In 1709 asecond and a stronger wooden lighthouse was built by Rudyard, but theprogress of the work was delayed owing to the workmen being carried onto France by a French ship and lodged in a prison there. King Louis XIV, when he heard of this, chivalrously ordered the Englishmen to beliberated and their captors to be put in the prison in their places, remarking that "though he was at war with England, he was not at warwith mankind. " So the lighthouse was completed, and remained until 1755, when it was destroyed by fire. It was the work of years to construct andbuild a lighthouse on a rock in the midst of the stormy seas, but athird was built by Smeaton in 1759, this time made of granite andPortland stone, and modelled after the shape of the trunk of an old oaktree. The stones had been prepared on land, and were sent to the rock asrequired for the various positions, and so the lighthouse was raised inabout four months. 

This one was strongly built, and braved the storms for more than ahundred years, and was still in position when we visited Plymouth; buta portion of the rock on which it was built was causing some anxiety, asit showed signs of giving way. A fourth lighthouse was thereforeprepared during the years 1879-82, being built wholly of granite, theold lighthouse doing duty meanwhile. This was designed and carried outby Sir James Douglas, at a cost of about £80, 000. It was a substantialstructure, and built on a different foundation 133 feet high, being 50feet taller than its predecessor, and containing a number of rooms. Ithad two 2-ton bells at the top to sound in foggy weather, and theflash-lights could be seen from a distance of many miles. 

The greater portion of the old lighthouse built by Smeaton was carefullytaken down and removed to Plymouth, where it was re-erected on the Hoeas a lasting memorial to the man whose wonderful genius had conferredsuch a benefit on the sailors of all nations--for it was impossible tocalculate how many lives had been saved during the 120 years hislighthouse had been protecting the ships of all nations from thedangerous reef on which it stood. The old lighthouse now forms aconspicuous object on the Hoe, and contains some interesting relics, andin the lantern are the candlesticks in which the lights were placed thatguided the mariners across the stormy ocean in past ages. Over thelantern are the words "24 August 1759" and "Laus Deo" (Praise to God), for the goodness of the Almighty was always acknowledged in those daysboth in construction of great works and otherwise, and anotherinscription also appears which seems very appropriate:

 Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it. 

Plymouth at first sight had the appearance of a new town, with so manynew buildings to attract the eye of a stranger. Elihu Burritt, however, when he, like ourselves, was journeying to Land's End, described it as"the Mother Plymouth sitting by the Sea. " The new buildings havereplaced or swamped the older erections; but a market has existed theresince 1253, and members have been returned to Parliament since 1292, while its list of mayors is continuous from the year 1439. It was toPlymouth that the Black Prince returned with his fleet after his greatvictories in France in the reign of Edward III. 

In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries Plymouth was the port fromwhich expeditions were sent out to explore and form colonies in hithertounknown places abroad, and in these some of the most daring sailors theworld has ever known took part. 

Sir Martin Frobisher, the first navigator to attempt to find thenorth-west passage to India, and from whom comes the name Frobisher'sStrait, to the south of Baffin Land, was knighted, along with Townshendand Beeston, for his services in the defeat of the Spanish Armada. 

Sir Francis Drake, the great Admiral of Queen Elizabeth's time, mademany adventurous voyages, partly for discovery and partly for plunder, and was the first Englishman to sail round the world. He brought news ofthe existence of gold in some places where he had been, and when hereturned his well-filled ship stimulated others to emulate the Spaniardsin that direction. 

Sir Walter Raleigh, who was described as a scholar, courtier, soldier, sailor, and statesman, discovered Virginia in 1584. He was in greatfavour at Court, but he quarrelled with Queen Elizabeth, who had grantedhim a Patent for the discovery and settlement of unknown countries inthe West. When James I ascended the throne he was suspected of being aconspirator and was sentenced to death, but the sentence was altered toimprisonment in the Tower of London, where during his twelve years'confinement he wrote his _History of the World_. In 1615 James set himat liberty, and put him at the head of an expedition to Guinea to findgold, but, being unsuccessful, on his return he was beheaded in OldPalace Yard in 1618--a sad ending to a great career. It was at Virginiathat he discovered tobacco, and possibly the potato, for he introducedboth these plants into England; and "Virginia Leaf" tobacco is still thefinest produced in America. Sir Walter explored the place when it wasnamed Pamlico Sound, but it was afterwards named "Virginia" by QueenElizabeth herself, and to Sir Walter Raleigh's efforts to colonise thisand other places we owe many of our possessions to-day. In the strugglefor independence Virginia took the lead, and the first RepresentativeAssembly in America was held there, while in the war between the Northand South it was the scene of the last battle and the final surrender. 

Captain James Cook, whose book _Voyages round the World_ is now aclassic, made many discoveries for Great Britain, including that of theSandwich Islands; and he sailed from Plymouth on two occasions, 1768 and1772. He made three voyages round the world, but on the third wasmurdered by natives at Hawaii. He discovered Botany Bay in New SouthWales in 1770, which was afterwards made a penal colony, whither earlyin the year 1787 eleven ships sailed from Plymouth, with 800 criminals, over 200 officials, and many free settlers. 

But the most important departure from the port was in 1620, when the_Mayflower_ sailed for America with the "Pilgrim Fathers" on board. Shewas only a little barque of 180 tons, and was sadly tossed about by thebig waves in the Atlantic. But after enduring many hardships, theemigrants landed on the barren shores of Massachusetts Bay, and namedthe spot where they landed "New Plymouth, " that being no doubt whatElihu Burritt had in his mind when he described Plymouth as "the MotherPlymouth sitting by the Sea, " for so many emigrants had gone from thereto America and other places that there were now quite forty places namedPlymouth in different parts of the world. The place whence the "Fathers"left the port on their perilous journey was afterwards marked with astone. This we went to see, but we were driven off the Hoe by a heavyshower of rain. 

[Illustration: THE "MAYFLOWER STONE, " PLYMOUTH HARBOUR. ]

Plymouth was also the last port of call in Europe of the ship_Northumberland_ bound for St. Helena, with Napoleon Bonaparte on board;and we thought it a strange incident of travel that the list ofdistinguished visitors here in 1871 should have included (in addition toourselves of course!) the names of the unfortunate Emperor Napoleon III, and his still more unfortunate son, who had been there about a fortnightbefore we arrived. During that year the French agreed to pay the greatindemnity which the Germans demanded, and which it was said laid thefoundation of the prosperity of the German Empire. 

(_Distance walked twenty-three and a half miles_. )

_Wednesday, November 15th. _

We left our hotel at daylight this morning, having made specialarrangements last night for a good breakfast to be served in time for anearly start, for we had a heavy day's walk, before us. We were now insight of Cornwall, the last county we should have to cross beforereaching Land's End. We had already traversed thirteen counties inScotland and fourteen in England since leaving John O' Groat's. But anarm of the sea named the Hamoaze separated us from Cornwall, and as ourrules prevented us from crossing it either by boat or train, thequestion arose how we were to get across the water, which was one of thegreatest naval anchorages in the world, and near the great dockyards inwhich the Government employed some thousands of men. We had come thatway in the hope of seeing some of the big warships near Devonport, andat length we came to the great railway bridge at Saltash. The thoughtoccurred to us that we might reach the Cornish coast by walking over thebridge to the other side. We had walked across a railway bridge on oneoccasion in Scotland to enable us to reach Abbotsford, the formerresidence of the great Sir Walter Scott, so why not adopt a similar planhere? We were some time before we could find a place where we couldscale the embankment, but ultimately we got on the railway and walked tothe entrance of the bridge; but when we reached the path at the side ofthe bridge it looked such a huge affair, and such a long way across thewater, that we decided not to venture without asking some advice. Wewaited until we saw coming along the railway track a workman, to whom weconfided our intention. He strongly advised us not to make the attempt, since we should run great bodily risk, as well as make ourselves liableto the heavy fine the railway company had power to inflict. We ratherreluctantly returned to the road we had left, but not before seeing someof the big ships from the bridge--the finest and last of the irontubular bridges built by the famous engineer Brunel, the total length, including approaches, being 2, 200 feet. It had been opened by H. R. H. ThePrince Consort in 1859, and was named after him the "Royal Albert"Bridge. We had now to leave the main road and find our way acrosscountry, chiefly by means of by-lanes, until we reached Tavistock, wherethere was a bridge by which we could cross the River Tavy. We had becomequite accustomed to this kind of experience, and looked upon it as amatter of course, for repeatedly in Scotland we had been forced to makea circuit to find the "head of the loch" because we objected to crossthe loch itself by a ferry. 

[Illustration: THE "ROYAL ALBERT" BRIDGE, SALTASH]

We had only proceeded a mile or two beyond the great bridge at Saltash, when we came in sight of the village of St. Budeaux, at the entrance ofwhich we came upon a large number of fine-looking soldiers, who, we wereinformed, were the 42nd Highlanders, commonly known as the Black Watch. They were crossing a grass-covered space of land, probably the villagegreen, and moving in the same direction as ourselves, not marching inany regular order, but walking leisurely in groups. We were surprised tosee the band marching quietly in the rear, and wondered why they werenot marching in front playing their instruments. The soldiers, however, were carrying firearms, which quite alarmed my brother, who never wouldwalk near a man who carried a gun--for if there was one thing in theworld that he was afraid of more than of being drowned, it was of beingshot with a gun, the very sight of which always made him feel mostuncomfortable. He had only used a gun once in all his life, when quite aboy, and was so terrified on that occasion that nothing could everinduce him to shoot again. He was staying at a farm in the country witha cousin, who undertook to show him how to shoot a bird that was sittingon its nest. It was a very cruel thing to do, but he loaded the gun andplaced it in my brother's hand in the correct position, telling him tolook along the barrel of the gun until he could see the bird, and thenpull the trigger. He did so, and immediately he was on the ground, withthe gun on top of him. His cousin had some difficulty in persuading himthat the gun had not gone off at the wrong end and that he was not shotinstead of the bird. It was one of the old-fashioned shot-guns known as"kickers, " and the recoil had sent him flying backwards at the moment ofthe noise of the discharge--a combination which so frightened him thathe avoided guns ever afterwards. 

[Illustration: THE HAMOAZE, SEPARATING DEVON AND CORNWALL]

We were obliged to walk quickly, for we knew we had a long walk beforeus that day and must get past the Highlanders, who fortunately were inno hurry. We passed one group after another until we reached the narrowroad along which we had been directed to turn. Here we saw the soldiersgoing the same way, now walking in twos and threes, and presently theroad developed into one of the deep, narrow lanes so common inDevonshire. We continued to pass the soldiers, but there was now agreater distance between the small groups. Presently we were accosted bya sergeant, one of the most finely proportioned men we had ever seen--agiant, as we thought, amongst giants, for all the soldiers were very bigmen--who said to us, "Now, my lads! if you see any of the enemy, tellthem we are two or three miles away, will you?" We wondered what hemeant, but as he smiled, we considered it a joke, and replied, "Allright!" as we moved on. We had passed all the soldiers except the firsttwo, who were about fifty yards ahead. They had climbed up the high bankon the left-hand side of the lane, and were apparently looking over thecountry and shading their eyes with their hands so as to get a betterview, when we saw a number of others belonging to the same regiment filequietly down-the opposite side. Crossing the lane, they ran up the bankwhere the two soldiers were still standing, and almost before theyrealised what was happening their bonnets had been taken off their headsand they found themselves prisoners. It was a clever capture, and as ittook place immediately before our eyes, we remained standing therelooking on with astonishment, for we had no idea what was about tohappen. 

But immediately the scene changed, and soldiers appeared in front, bothin the lane and high up above the road. But the worst feature was thatthey began firing their guns; so here we were in a deep lane from whichthere was no escape, and, as we afterwards ascertained, between the twohalves of one of the most famous regiments in the British army, oneambuscaded by the other! We were taken completely by surprise, as we hadnever seen or heard of a sham fight before, and it appeared a terriblething to us, as the fiery eyes and fierce countenances of the soldierswere fearful to see, and we became greatly alarmed, expecting everyminute to be taken prisoners. I consoled my brother by telling him theguns were only loaded with blank cartridges, but his only remark was, "But suppose one of them isn't, and we get shot, " and he began to walkonwards more quickly than I had ever seen him walk before. Keeping asnear one side the road as possible, and dodging between the soldiers, with myself following closely behind his heels, perspiring profuselywith fear and exertion until there was scarcely a dry thread upon us, wemanaged at last to escape, and were profoundly thankful when we gotclear of the Black Watch and so ended one of the most excitingadventures we ever had. It reminded my brother of the Charge of theLight Brigade, a story he was very familiar with, an Irish friend of hisnamed Donoghue being one of the trumpeters who sounded it, and ofTennyson's words:

 Cannon to right of them. Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them, Volley'd and thundered. 

In our case, he said, we had guns at our back in addition. 

We did not know at that time that the 42nd Highlanders were so famous, but a friend of ours, an officer in the army, has since handed us adescription of that regiment, bringing its history down to a laterperiod. 

 The 42nd Highlanders were originally formed from the independent companies raised in the year 1729 to keep the King's peace among the Highland Hills; the Black Watch, so called from the dark hue of its tartan, was first paraded as a regiment of the British army in 1740. They had distinguished themselves in all parts of the world: America, India, Flanders, Egypt, Corunna, Waterloo, Sevastopol, Indian Mutiny, Ashantee, Egypt, Nile, and South Africa, and lost heavily at Ticonderago, Toulouse, Waterloo, and afterwards in the Boer War. They were amongst our bravest soldiers, and were famous as being one of the four regiments named for distinction by Wellington at Waterloo; twice they had been specially called upon, once at the Battle of Alexandria, when the Commander-in-Chief, Sir Ralph Abercromby, called for a special effort at a critical period in the fight, saying, "My brave Highlanders! Remember your forefathers! Remember your country!" and victory immediately ensued; and again at the Battle of Corunna, when Sir John Moore in the thick of the fight, before being mortally wounded, exclaimed, "Highlanders! Remember Egypt!" and the foe was scattered in all directions. In Egypt, after storming Tel-el-Kebir and taking part in the battles that followed, such was the conduct of the Black Watch that Lord Wolseley sent the following telegram:

 "Well done, old comrades of the Black Watch. "

Such we may venture to say were the men among whom we found ourselves onthat occasion. In after life we always took a deep interest in thedoings of that famous regiment, and we noticed that when any hardfighting had to be done, the Black Watch nearly always assisted to doit--so much so that sometimes we regretted that we had not had thehonour of having been taken prisoner by them on that ever-memorableoccasion!

The next village we came to was Tamerton Foliot, in a lovely situation, standing at the end of a creek which fills with the tide. At that pointthe waters of the Tavy join those of the larger River Tamar, andeventually assist to form the Hamoaze. Tamerton was a very oldsettlement, as Gilbert Foliot, who was Bishop of London from 1163 to1188, and one of the most prominent opponents of Thomas a Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, was a native of that village. There was arecumbent effigy in the church dating from the year 1346; but beyondthat the great object of interest in the village was an old oak treenamed the Coppleston Oak, because of a very sorrowful incident whichoccurred near the church one Sunday morning many centuries ago. Itappeared that a local squire named Coppleston, a man of bad temper andvile disposition, when at dinner made some gross remarks which wererepeated in the village by his son. He was so enraged when he heard ofit, on the Sunday, that as they were leaving the church he threw hisdagger at the lad, wounding him in the loins so that he fell down anddied. An oak tree was planted near the spot, and was still pointed outas the Coppleston Oak. The father meanwhile fled to France, and hisfriends obtained a conditional pardon for him; but to escape beinghanged he had to forfeit thirteen manors in Cornwall. 

[Illustration: TAMERTON CHURCH AND THE FATAL OAK]

We were now fairly off the beaten track, but by devious ways, withlovely wooded and river scenery to the left and the wild scenery ofDartmoor to the right, we managed to reach Buckland Abbey. This abbeywas founded in 1278 by the Countess of Baldwin-de Redvers, Earl ofDevon, and we expected to find it in ruins, as usual. But when HenryVIII dissolved the monasteries, he gave Buckland to Sir RichardGrenville, who converted it into a magnificent mansion, although somefew of the monastic buildings still remained. He formed the great hallso as to be under the great central tower of the old abbey, and thedining-room he formed out of a portion of the nave, while thedrawing-room was at the end of a long gallery upstairs; so thataltogether it formed a unique structure. In 1581, however, it was soldto Sir Francis Drake, and the mansion contained some relics of his, amongst which were two drums; there were also a chair and a table madeout of one of his old ships, the _Pelican_, and a fine portrait of SirFrancis by Jansen, dated 1594. The gardens were very beautiful, as thetrees in this sheltered position grew almost without let or hindrance;there were some of the finest tulip trees there that we had ever seen. We were informed that when Sir Francis Drake began to make somealteration in his new possessions, the stones that were built up in thedaytime were removed during the night or taken down in some mysteriousmanner. So one moonlight night he put on a white sheet, and climbed atree overlooking the building, with the object of frightening any onewho might come to pull down the stones. When the great clock whichformerly belonged to the old abbey struck the hour of twelve, he saw theearth open below, and about twenty little black devils came out andstarted to pull down the wall. Sir Francis began to move his arms aboutand flap them as if they were wings, and then crowed like a cock. Thedevils, when they heard the white bird crowing, looked up, and, thinkingthe morning must be close at hand, immediately disappeared to theregions below. We could not learn if or how often these performanceswere repeated, but it seemed a very unlikely thing for Sir Francis Draketo do, and the story sounded as if it belonged to a far remoter periodthan that of the Spanish Armada. 

[Illustration: DRAKE'S STATUE, TAVISTOCK. ]

Drake was idolised in Plymouth and the surrounding country, where hisname was held in everlasting remembrance, and his warlike spiritpervaded the British navy. At a much later period than that of our visiteven his drum was not forgotten. Whether it was one of those that werepreserved in the old abbey or not we did not know, but it is the subjectof a stirring poem by Sir Henry Newbolt. 

 DRAKE'S DRUM

 Drake he's in his hammock, an' a thousand mile away, (Capten, art tha' sleepin' there below?), Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay, An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. Yarnder lumes the island, yarnder lie the ships, Wi' sailor lads a-dancin' heel-an'-toe, An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin', He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago. 

 Drake he was a Devon man, an' ruled the Devon seas, (Capten, art tha' sleepin' there below?), Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at ease, An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore, Strike et when your powder's runnin' low; If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven, An' drum them up the Channel as we drummed them long ago. 

 Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas come, (Capten, art tha' sleepin' there below?), Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for the Drum, An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound, Call him when ye sail to meet the foe; Where the old trade's plyin' an' the old flag flyin' They shall find him ware an' wakin', as they found him long ago!

In olden times there existed a much older abbey than Buckland, namedBuckfast Abbey, but it was right on the other side of Dartmoor, and theabbots and monks formerly crossed from one to the other. In those remotetimes there were no proper roads, and the tracks between the two placeswere mainly made by the feet of the monks, with crosses placed atintervals to prevent their losing the way, especially when the hillswere covered with snow. The track still existed, being known as the"Abbots' Way. " The distance between the two abbeys was about sixteenmiles as the crow flies, but as the track had to go partially round someof the tors, which there rose to an elevation of about 1, 500 feet abovesea-level, and were directly in the way, it must have involved a walk ofquite twenty miles from one abbey to the other. Buckfast Abbey is one ofthe oldest in Britain, and ultimately became the richest Cistercianhouse in the West of England. The last abbot was Gabriel Donne, whoreceived his appointment for having in 1536 captured Tyndale theReformer, who was in the same year put to death by strangling andburning. 

[Illustration: BUCKLAND ABBEY. ]

One of the earliest stories of the "lost on the moors" was connectedwith that road. Childe, the "Hunter of Plymstock, " had been hunting inone of the wildest districts on Dartmoor, and was returning home atnight, when a heavy snowstorm came on and the night became bitterlycold. Having completely lost his way, and as his tired horse could go nofarther, he stopped at one of the ancient crosses and dismounted. Hisblood, however, began to freeze within him, and to try to save his ownlife he killed his horse, and, cutting a great hole in its body, creptinside. When daylight came in the morning, knowing he was dying, andthat some of the monks would probably find his body when they came tothe cross, he dipped his fingers in his horse's blood and scribbled onthe stone:

 They fyrste that fyndes and brings mee to my grave, The Priorie of Plymstocke they shall have. 

His body was found by the "monks of Tavystoke, " and buried in theirabbey at Tavistock; and from that time to the dissolution of themonasteries the Abbey of Tavistock had possession of the manor ofPlymstock, Childe having no children to follow him. 

We were sorry that we had been unable to explore Dartmoor itself insteadof only its fringes, so we decided to make an effort to see DartmoorPrison, which we were given to understand was only a few miles away. Wechanged our course a little and passed on to Walkhampton, where we wereadvised to follow the by-road above the Walkham river, from which thevillage took its name, this being the easiest and most pleasant way. Wehad a nice walk along the valley until we reached Merridale, but therewe succumbed to the attractions of the small inn. We felt that we shouldnever be able to wait for food until we reached Tavistock, as themountain air and the exertion of climbing up the hill had been too muchfor us, so we ordered refreshments there instead of at Tavistock, asoriginally intended. We had loitered a little on our way up the hill, stopping to look at the views behind us, which were better than those infront--a necessary procedure, for we were rather inclined at times "tokeep our noses too near the grindstone, " or perhaps, like Othello, to be"led by the nose as asses are, " and to toil up the hills with thewilderness before us, in total forgetfulness of the lovely scenesbehind. We therefore advise all tourists on a walking expedition to lookback occasionally, since much of the pleasure and beauty of the tour mayotherwise be lost. 

[Illustration: VIXEN TOR, TAVISTOCK. ]

We had a short walk in the direction of Princetown, where the prison wassituated, but we were not at all favourably impressed by the appearanceof the country, without a house in sight except the inn where ourrefreshments were being prepared. Presently we met an official inuniform, who told us the prisoners were not always kept inside theprison, but were employed in making and repairing roads and fences andin cultivating land. He pointed out some men a long distance away whowere so employed, and strongly advised us not to go any farther in thatdirection. The only objects of interest on the Moor, beyond the tors andthe views from their summits, were the antiquities, which in that partwere particularly numerous, for without leaving the road between theprison and Merridale there could be seen a cluster of hut circles, akistvaen, a menhir, and a double line of stone rows, and within a shortradius many other relics of prehistoric man, as well as one or twologans or rocking-stones. We therefore returned with him to the inn--foreven an antiquary cannot live on stones; he ought to be well supportedwith both food and clothing to enable him fully to explore andappreciate the ancient relics of Dartmoor. Our refreshments were quiteready and were soon put out of sight, and, as we had a downward gradientto the River Tavy, we had made up for our delay when we crossed thebridge over the river and entered the town of Tavistock. 

The earliest history of Tavistock was no doubt associated with theprehistoric remains on the hills above, if that had been written; but asearly as the tenth century Orgarius, Earl of Devon, in consequence of adream, decided to build a magnificent abbey there, and to dedicate it toSt. Mary. He began to build it in 961, but as he died before it wascompleted, his son Ordulph completed it in 981 and endowed it with themanor of Tavistock and others. Ordulph was also a nephew of KingEthelred, and, according to tradition, was a giant able to stride acrossa river ten feet wide. Orgarius had not only left a gigantic son, but hehad also left a daughter of such surpassing beauty that her fame spreadall over England; and Edgar, who by that time was king, hearing of thewonderful beauty of Elfrida, sent his favourite--Athelwold--to herfather's castle to ascertain if her beauty was such as had beenreported. Athelwold went on his mission, but was so struck andbewildered with Elfrida's beauty that he fell violently in love with herhimself, and when he returned he told Edgar that Elfrida was not sobeautiful, but was rich and more fit to be the wife of a subject than aking. Edgar therefore consented to his favourite's marriage with her;but the king, discovering that he had been deceived, insisted on payingAthelwold a visit at his home in Devonshire. Athelwold craved permissionto go home and prepare for the king's visit, which was granted, and withall possible haste he went and, kneeling before his wife, confessed all, and asked her to help him out of his difficulties by putting on an olddress and an awkward appearance when the king came, so that his lifemight be spared. Elfrida was, however, disappointed at the loss of acrown, and, instead of obscuring her beauty, she clothed herself so asto appear as beautiful as possible, and, as she expected, captivated theroyal Edgar. A few days afterwards Athelwold was found murdered in awood, and the king married his widow. But the union, beginning withcrime, could not be other than unhappy, and ended disastrously, the kingonly surviving his marriage six or seven years and dying at the earlyage of thirty-two. He was buried at Glastonbury, an abbey he had greatlybefriended. 

At the Dissolution the lands of Tavistock Abbey were given by KingHenry VIII, along with others, to Lord John Russell, whose descendants, the Dukes of Bedford, still possess them. Considerable traces of the oldabbey remained, but, judging from some old prints, they had been muchaltered during the past century. The fine old chapter-house had beentaken down to build a residence named Abbey House, which now formed theBedford Hotel; the old refectory had been used as a Unitarian chapel, and its porch attached to the premises of the hotel; while the vicaragegarden seemed to have absorbed some portion of the venerable ruins. There were two towers, one of which was named the Betsey Grinbal'sTower, as a woman of that name was supposed to have been murdered thereby the monks; and between that and the other tower was an archway whichconnected the two. Under this archway stood a Sarcophagus which formerlycontained the remains of Ordulph, whose gigantic thigh-bones weafterwards saw in the church. The ruins were nearly all covered withivy, and looked beautiful even in their decay; but seeing the purpose towhich some of them had been applied, we thought that the word "Ichabod"(the glory hath departed) would aptly apply, and if the old walls couldhave spoken, we should not have been surprised to hear a line quotedfrom Shakespeare--"to what base uses do we come at last. "

[Illustration: THE STILL TOWER, TAVISTOCK ABBEY]

The old abbey had done good service in its time, as it had givenTavistock the claim of being the second town in England where a printingpress was erected, for in 1524 one had been put up in the abbey, and amonk named Rychard had printed a translation of Boethius' _DeConsolatione Philosophiæ_, and a Saxon Grammar was also said to havebeen printed there. The neighbourhood of Tavistock was not withoutlegends, which linger long on the confines of Dartmoor, and, likeslander, seemed to have expanded as time went on:

 The flying rumours gathered as they rolled, Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told, And all who told it added something new, And all who heard it made enlargement too! On every ear it spread, on every tongue it grew. 

Fitzford was the name of one of the river suburbs of Tavistock, and wasonce upon a time the residence of the Fitze family. According to someancient histories of Devon, one of which had the significant title of_The Bloudie Book_, Sir John Fitze was noted as a turbulent, dangerousman, ever ready with his sword on all occasions. Meeting with many ofhis neighbours at a noontide dinner at Tavistock, he was vaunting hisfree tenure and boasting that he did not hold a foot of land from anybut the "Queene of England, " when his neighbour, "Maister Slanning, "reminded him of a small piece of land he had of his for which he wasliable for rent, but for which no payment had been asked by reason of"courtesie and friendshippe. " Upon hearing these words Fitze flew in afurious rage and told Slanning with a great oath that he lied, and withal gave fuel to his rage and reines of spight in the unjustness of his anger--offering to stab him. But Maister Slanning, who was known to be a man of no less courage, and more courtesie, with a great knife that he had, warded the hazard of such threatenings. 

The quarrel was stopped by the intervention of friends, and Slanning, thinking the matter was at an end, shortly afterwards rode home incompany with only one servant. 

 Long had they not ridden but commanding the man to walk down his horses in the way, himself the while taking the greene fields for his more contented walking; he might behold Sir John Fitze, with four more, galloping amane after him, which sight could not but be a great amazement to Maister Slanning. 

The quarrel was renewed, and Slanning, who was, by the way, a brave man, perceived that Fitze was determined to kill him; but he had no chanceagainst live swords, and when he got to Fitzford gateway he received ablow from behind which staggered him, and Fitze, seizing theopportunity, ran his sword through his body, and poor Slanning fell tothe floor a murdered man. 

Fitze fled to France, and his friends obtained some kind of a pardon forhim; but when he returned they all gave him the cold shoulder; he wasavoided by everybody, and to add to his discomfort the children ofSlanning sued him in London for compensation. 

Meanwhile the guilt in blood weighed heavily upon him, increasing inintensity as years went on, and the shade of Slanning never left him dayor night, until finally he could not sleep, for the most horrid dreamsawoke him and his screams in the night were awful to hear. Sometimes hedreamt he was being pursued by the police, then by black demons andother hideous monsters, while in the background was always the ghost ofthe man he had so cruelly murdered. 

Late one night a man on horseback, haggard and weary, rode up to thedoor of the "Anchor Inn" at Kingston-on-Thames and demanded lodgings forthe night. The landlord and his family were just retiring to rest, andthe landlady, not liking the wild and haggard appearance of theirmidnight visitor, at first declined to receive him, but at length agreedto find him a room. The family were awakened in the night by the lodgercrying in his sleep, and the landlady was greatly alarmed as the noisewas continued at intervals all through the night. They had to rise earlyin the morning, as the landlord had some work to do in his fields, buthis wife would not be left in the house with the stranger who hadgroaned so horribly during the night. Their footsteps seem to haveawakened the man, for suddenly they were terrified to see him rushdownstairs with a drawn sword in his hand, throw himself upon a manstanding in the yard, and kill him instantly. It was thought afterwardsthat he must have mistaken his victim for a constable; but when he cameto his senses and found he had killed the groom to whom he had givenorders to meet him early in the morning, he turned his sword againsthimself and fell--dead! And such was the tragic end of John Fitze. 

[Illustration: LYDFORD CASTLE. ]

There is a saying, "Like father, like son, " which sometimes justifiesitself; but in the case of Fitze it applied not to a son, but to adaughter, who seems to have followed his bad example and to haveinherited his wild nature, for it was said that she was married fourtimes--twice before she reached the age of sixteen! She afterwardsmarried Lord Charles Howard, son of the Duke of Suffolk, and after shehad disposed of him--for the country people believed she murdered allher husbands--she married Sir Richard Granville, the cruel Governor ofLydford Castle, but preferred to retain the title of Lady Howard. It wassaid that she died diseased both in mind and body, and that afterwardsshe had to do penance for her sins. Every night on the stroke of twelvea phantom coach made of bones, drawn by four skeleton horses andornamented with four grinning skulls, supposed to be those of her fourhusbands, issued from under Fitzford gateway with the shade of LadyHoward inside. A coal-black hound ran in front as far as Okehampton, andon the return journey carried in its mouth a single blade of grass, which it placed on a stone in the old courtyard of Fitzford; and notuntil all the grass of Okehampton had been thus transported would LadyHoward's penance end! The death-coach glided noiselessly along thelonely moorland roads, and any person who accepted Lady Howard'sinvitation to ride therein was never seen again. One good effect thisnocturnal journey had was that every one took care to leave the inns atTavistock in time to reach home before midnight. 

 My Lady hath a sable coach, With horses two and four; My Lady hath a gaunt bloodhound. That goeth on before: My Lady's coach hath nodding plumes, The driver hath no head; My Lady is an ashen white As one that long is dead. 

 I'd rather walk a hundred miles, And run by night and day. Than have that carriage halt for me And hear my Lady say: "Now pray step in and make no din, Step in with me to ride; There's room, I trow, by me, for you And all the world beside!"

The church at Tavistock was dedicated to St. Eustachius, for we were nowquite near Cornwall, a land of saints with all kinds of queer names. Thechurch had the appearance of having passed through the ordeal of somesevere restorations, but we saw many objects of interest therein. Therewas a tomb with effigies of Judge Granville, his wife, and three sonsand four daughters, erected in 1615 by his widow after she had marriedagain--a circumstance that might give rise to some speculations. Thechildren's heads had all been knocked off, and the boys had disappearedaltogether; probably, we thought, taken prisoners by some of Cromwell'smen to serve as ornaments elsewhere. There was also a monument to theFitze family, including a figure of Sir John Fitze, the last of theline, who was buried at Twickenham; but whether he was the hero of thelegend or not we could not ascertain. 

Thomas Larkham, who was vicar from 1649 to 1660, stood out against theAct of Conformity, and was dismissed. But he kept a diary, and a page ofit had been preserved which referred to the gifts presented to him afterbeing deprived of his stipend. 

 1653, _Nov. 30th. _--The wife of Will Hodges brought me a fat goose; Lord, do them good! Edward Cole sent by his daughter a turkey; Lord, accept it! _Dec. 2nd. _--Sara Frowt a dish of butter; accept, Lord! _Dec. 6th. _--Margaret Sitwell would not be paid for 2-1/2 lbs. Of butter; is she not a daughter of Abraham? Father, be pleased to pay her. Walter Peck sent me, _Dec. 14th_, a partridge, and Mr. Webb the same day pork and puddings; Lord, forget not! Mrs. Thomasin Doidge--Lord, look on her in much mercy--_Dec. 19th_, gave me 5s. _Jan. 25th. _--Mrs. Audry sent me a bushel of barley malt for housekeeping; Lord, smell a sweet savour! Patrick Harris sent me a shoulder of pork, --he is a poor ignorant man. Lord, pity him!

There was a curious thirteenth-century chest, trapezium in form, andsaid to be the only one of that shape in the West of England. It was ofcarved oak, and called a treasure chest, because it had a secret recessat the back where the priest kept a jewel with which he fastened hisrobes. Another old chest contained some ancient Latin writings, theearliest of which bore the dates 1285, 1325, and 1370, written in oldlettering with what was known as "monk's ink, " made from vegetables. Some of the documents bore seals with rush rings attached, and there wasa black-letter Bible, and a chained book dated 1588, the year of theSpanish Armada. We were also shown four pewter flagons for Communionwine, all of the time of Charles I, two churchwardens having each givenone in 1633 and two other wardens one each in 1638. Asked why so manywere required, we were informed that in those days all the people werecompelled to come to church, and it was nothing unusual for quarts ofwine to be used at one Communion, at a cost of several pounds! But inthose days Holy Communion was only administered four times a year!

[Illustration: BRENT TOR, TAVISTOCK. ]

Tavistock was one of the four Stannary towns in Devonshire, whereStannary Courts were established to deal with all matters relating totin and the tinners who produced it. Under a charter of Edward I tin wasordered to be officially weighed and stamped in the towns so appointed. But while the tinners had the privilege of digging for tin on anyperson's land without payment for rent or damage, they were subject toheavy penalties and impositions in other ways, and especially in thecase of adulteration of tin with inferior metal. The forest laws also inthose early times were terrible and barbarous. To enforce the authorityof the Stannary Courts a prison was constructed in the thirteenthcentury out of the keep or dungeon of Lydford Castle, about nine milesnorth of Tavistock; and in the sixteenth century this prison wasdescribed as "one of the most annoyous, contagious, and detestableplaces in the realm. " When Sir Richard Granville, who was noted for hisextremely cruel disposition, was Governor, prisoners were known to becompelled to swallow spoonfuls of the molten metal they were supposed tohave adulterated. William Browne, a poet born at Tavistock in 1590, inone of his pastorals perpetuated the memory of Lydford Castle:

 I oft have heard of Lydford law-- How in the morn they hang and draw. And sit in judgement after. 

[Illustration: KIT HILL, CALLINGTON. ]

We had now to return towards the coast-line from which we had divergedafter leaving Plymouth, and we decided to walk from Tavistock toLiskeard and stay there for the night. The country was rather hilly, andin about three miles we crossed the River Tamar, at the same pointpassing from Devon into Cornwall, for the river here divided the twocounties. It had made for itself in the course of ages a deep passagethrough the hills, which for the pedestrian involved a deep descent anda sharp ascent on the other side to and from the river. Our way nowcrossed the Hingston Downs, where we came to one of the chief landmarksof Cornwall, named the Kit Hill, at an elevation of 1, 067 feet abovesea-level, standing quite near our road. This hill marked the site of adesperate battle in 835, between King Edgar of Wessex on the one sideand the Danes combined with the men of Cornwall on the other. The Saxonslost heavily, but they won the battle, and the neighbouring barrows, ortumuli, were supposed to have covered the remains of those who fell onthat occasion. We were now amongst the tin mines, of which there werequite a number, used and disused, in sight, some right on the top of thehills; and from these highlands we could see the two Channels, theEnglish on one side and the Irish on the other. It was supposed that theIrish had originally inhabited the whole of Cornwall, but the oldCornishmen were in reality Celts of a different tribe. One of the minerstold us that on his return from South Africa he could see Kit Hilldistinctly from a long distance out at sea. Some of the tin miners, itseemed, were emigrating to South Africa, while others were going toAmerica. Soon afterwards we reached the fair-sized village or town ofCallington, which under the old franchise returned two Members toParliament, one of whom had been Horace Walpole, the son of the famousRobert Walpole. We looked through the church, where we saw a rather finemonument to Lord Willoughby de Broke erected in 1503. He was representedas wearing armour and the insignia of the Garter, and at his feet weretwo curious figures of monks, said to be unique, for the figures in thatposition were invariably those of lions or other animals. A lady fromthe vicarage told us that his lordship was the steward of the Duchy ofCornwall, and an important person, but there was some doubt about hisbeing buried there. There was another church in the neighbourhood, andas both the villages belonged to him, he had a tomb made in each, sothat he could be buried in whichever part of his property he happened tobe in when he died, or, as he explained to his friends, "where you drop, there you may be buried. "

There were more temperance hotels, or houses, in Cornwall than in mostother counties we had passed through, almost invariably clean and good, and it was to one of these that we adjourned at Callington for tea. Wefound it quite up to the mark, and we had a splendid feed there both asregarded quantity and quality, Devonshire cream being evidently notconfined to its own county. It would have been a grand place in which tostay the night, but, though the weather was threatening, we must placeour average mileage in a safe position, especially as we were nownearing the end of our long walk. It was nearly dark when we leftCallington, and, on our inquiring the way to Liskeard, a man we saw atthe end of the village said he could put vis in a nearer way than goingalong the high road, which would save us a good half-mile in thejourney. Going with us to the entrance of a narrow lane, he gave us verycareful and voluminous instructions about the way we must follow. Thanking him, we left him, and proceeded along the lane in search of afarmhouse, or rather a gate at the end of the road leading towards it, for he had told us we should not be able to see the house itself in thedark, but should be sure to see the gate, as it was a large one, paintedwhite, and after passing this we were to make one or two turns which hedescribed. The sky was overcast and the night very dark, and althoughthere was a new moon, it was only three days old--too young to be of anyservice to us. But we could not find either the gate or the farm, or anyturns in the road, nor could either of us remember distinctly the latterpart of the instructions given to us by the man, one thinking we had toturn to the right and the other to the left. The fact was, we hadcalculated upon meeting some one on the road from whom, we could inquirefurther. We had been walking slowly for some time, stopping occasionallyto listen for the footsteps of some person from whom we could inquire, but not a sound could we hear until we almost stumbled against a gatethat barred our further progress, for it reached right across our road, and beyond this we could hear the sound of rushing water. 

I knew now that we had come to a full-stop, as my brother would nevergo beyond that gate after he had heard the roar of the stream, whichmust have been quite near us. He had often rowed a boat on dangerousrivers and on the sea; had been nearly lost one dark night in a highspring-tide on the sandbanks of the River Mersey; had been washed out tosea through the failure of an oar at Barmouth; had narrowly escapedbeing swamped with his boat off the East Coast; and a few years beforehad a hair-breadth escape from drowning by being drawn under the woodenframework protecting the piles for a future famous bridge over the RiverThames near the heart of London; but, owing to a narrow escape fromdrowning when he was almost a child, he had the greatest horror ofhaving his head under water and of being drowned, and even now he wasafraid of the sound of rushing water in the dark, for he could not swima yard; but he was a brave man nevertheless!

So there we stood on a pitch-dark night, leaning over a gate in anunknown country, and on a by-road, listening to the rush of the waterbeyond, wishing that some one might come that way to direct us; but itwas hopeless. When we struck a match and lit a piece of paper, wediscovered that there was no road beyond the gate, the lane having madean abrupt turning towards the left upon reaching it. We walked alongcarefully, striking a match occasionally, and at length came to afinger-post, green with age; we could not, however, distinguish thelettering on the arms at the top, so I knew that my turn had now come, as when there was any climbing to be done during our journey, I had todo it. I "swarmed up" the post to the arms at the top, while my brotherlighted a piece of newspaper below; but it was of no use, as the nameswere partly obscured. Still I could see that Liskeard was not one ofthem, so I dropped down again, nearly knocking my brother over, as theground was not level at the foot of the post and the light had gone out. We had to stop a minute or two, for the glare of the light from theburning paper had made the darkness more impenetrable than before; butthe narrowness of the road was an advantage to us, as we knew we couldnot get far astray. Coming to a good hard road, we arrived at a bridgewhere there were a few houses, and soon we were walking quickly again onthe right way to Liskeard; but how we blessed that countryman who withthe best of intentions had directed us the nearer way! In a few miles wesaw a light ahead, and found it came from a small inn by the roadsidewhere one road crossed another, and here we called to inquire our way, and were informed we had arrived at St. Eve, which we thought must bethe name of some doubtful Cornish saint; but that impression was removedwhen we found it was the local pronunciation for St. Ive. We could justdiscern the outline of a small church to the right of our road, and asthere were so few houses we did not confound it with the much largerplace in Cornwall, St. Ives, nor, needless to say, with another placenamed St. Ives in Huntingdonshire, which we passed through on our walkfrom London the previous year. 

It was getting unpleasantly near "closing time" when we reachedLiskeard, but we were just in time to be well entertained and housed forthe night. 

(_Distance walked thirty-six miles_. )

_Thursday, November 16th. _

Liskeard was visited in 1757 by John Wesley, who described it as "one ofthe largest and pleasantest towns in Cornwall, " a description with whichwe agreed, but we were inclined to add the words, "and of nooccupation, " for there was no outward or visible sign of any stapleindustry. As in other similar places we had visited, the first questionthat suggested itself to us was, "How do the people live?" Theirappearance, however, caused us no anxiety, as every one we saw lookedboth well and happy. They had made a clean sweep of their old castle, which was said to have been built in the thirteenth century by Richard, Earl of Cornwall, and King of the Romans, the brother of Henry III; thesite they had formed into a public park, in which stood the old grammarschool where Dr. Wolcot was educated, who wrote a number of satiricalodes, letters, and ballads, under the name of "Peter Pindar, " in thetime of George III, many of his satires being levelled at the kinghimself. Eventually he sold his works for an annuity of £250. 

Liskeard was remarkable for the spring of water round which the town hadbeen built, and which was described by Leland in his _Itinerary_ as "agood conduit in the middle of the Town very plentiful of water to servethe Town. " Four pipes originally conveyed the water to different points, and the street where the well existed was known as Pipewell Street. 

The wells of Cornwall were famous, being named after the differentsaints who had settled beside them in ancient times, appreciating thevalue of the pure water they contained. We had often tested the water ofthe wells and springs we had come to in the course of our long walk, andthe conviction had grown upon us that we owed much of our continued goodhealth to drinking water. We naturally perspired a good deal, especiallywhen we walked quickly, which of course created thirst; and thedifferent strata of the various rock-formations we had crossed must haveinfluenced the water and ourselves to some extent. We had come to theconclusion that people who went on holidays and attributed the benefitderived solely to "the change of air" might have equally benefited bythe change of water!

In one part of Cheshire, formerly in possession of the Romans, there wasa rather remarkable spring of water known as the "Roman Well, " overwhich appeared the following Latin inscription, difficult to translate, but which had been interpreted thus:

 _Sanitate Sacrum_: Sacred to Health! _Obstructum reserat_, It removes obstruction. _Durum terit_, It crushes the hard, _Humida siecat_, It dries the moist, _Debile fortificat_, It strengthens the weak, _Si tamen arte bibis_. Provided thou drinkest with knowledge. 

The water rises from some subterranean source in the sandstone rock andenters with considerable force into the receptacle prepared for it, which is about five feet deep. The water was always beautifully clearand cool, and visitors often amused themselves by throwing halfpenniesinto the bath and watching them apparently being transformed intoshillings as they reached the bottom--a fact attributed to the presenceof lime in the water. 

In striking contrast to this was the water afterwards brought throughthe district from a watershed on the distant Welsh hills, which dependedfor its supply almost entirely on the downfall from the clouds. Thedifference between that and the water from the Roman well was verymarked, for while the rainwater was very soft, the other that containedthe lime was very hard, and therefore considered more conducive to thegrowth of the bones in children. Our personal experiences also with thewater at Inverness, and in the neighbourhood of Buxton in the previousyear, which affected us in a similar way, convinced us that wateraffected human beings very markedly; and then we had passed by Harrogateand Leamington, where people were supposed to go purposely to drink thewaters. Even the water of the tin-mining district through which we werenow passing might contain properties that were absent elsewhere, and thespecial virtues attributed to some of the Saints' Wells in Cornwall inolden times might not have been altogether mythical. 

Besides the four Stannary towns in Devon there were originally four inCornwall, including Liskeard, where all tin mined in their respectivedistricts had to be weighed and stamped. Probably on that accountLiskeard returned two members to Parliament, the first members beingreturned in 1294; amongst the M. P. 's who had represented the town weretwo famous men--Sir Edward Coke, elected in 1620, and Edward Gibbon, in1774. 

Sir Edward Coke was a great lawyer and author of the legal classic _Cokeupon Littleton_. He became Speaker of the House of Commons, Attorney-General, and afterwards Chief Justice, and was the mercilessprosecutor of Sir Walter Raleigh, and also of the persons concerned inthe Gunpowder Plot; while his great speech against Buckingham towardsthe close of the career of that ill-fated royal favourite is famous. 

Edward Gibbon was the celebrated historian and author of that great work_The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_. The history of hisParliamentary connection with Liskeard was rather curious. One morningin 1774, when in London, he was asked if he would like to enter theHouse of Commons, and when he consented, the "free and independentelectors" of Liskeard were duly "instructed" to return him. But it wasvery doubtful whether he ever saw any of the electors, or had anydealings with the Constituency whatever, although he acted as one oftheir members for about eight years. Possibly, as there were twomembers, the other M. P. Might have been the "acting partner. "

Liskeard church was the second largest in Cornwall, and in it we saw a"Lepers' squint" and also a turret at the corner of the aisle from whichthe priest could preach to the lepers without coming in contact withthem, for the disease was very infectious--so much so that the hospitalbuilt for them was a mile or two from the town. "Lepers' squints" hadbeen common in some parts of England, and as the disease is oftenmentioned in the Bible, we considered it must have been imported fromthe East, perhaps from Palestine by the Crusaders. We had not seen orheard of any cases of leprosy on our journey, and we concluded that thedisease could not have been natural to our colder climate, and hadtherefore died out as a result of more cleanly habits. The pulpit wasdated 1632, the carving on it being the work of a local sculptor, whoseremuneration, we were told, was at the rate of one penny per hour, whichappeared to us to be a very small amount for that description of work. Possibly he considered he was working for the cause of religion, andhoped for his further reward in a future life; or was it a silver penny?

[Illustration: LISKEARD CHURCH. ]

The houses in Liskeard were built of stone, and the finest perhaps wasthat known as Stuart House, so named because King Charles I stayed therefor about a week in 1644. This was of course in the time of the CivilWar, when Cornwall, as it practically belonged to the King or his son, did not consider itself as an ordinary county, but as a duchy, and wasconsequently always loyal to the reigning sovereign. It was also adifficult county for an invading army to approach, and the army of theParliament under the Earl of Essex met with a disastrous defeat there. 

But we must not forget the Holy Wells, as the villages and towns tooktheir names from the saints who presided at the wells. That of St. Keyne, quite near Liskeard, is described by Southey:

 A Well there is in the West Country, And a clearer one never was seen; There is not a wife in the West Country But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne. 

 An oak and an elm-tree stand beside, And behind doth an ash-tree grow, And a willow from the bank above Droops to the water below. 

St. Keyne introduced the rather remarkable belief that the first of anewly married couple to drink of the water of her well, whether husbandor wife, should in future rule the home. We supposed that the happy pairwould have a race to the well, and the one who arrived there firstwould ever afterwards play the first fiddle, if that instrument was inuse in the time of St. Keyne. But a story was related of how on oneoccasion the better-half triumphed. No sooner had the knot been tiedthan the husband ran off as fast as he could to drink of the water atSt. Keyne's Well, leaving his wife in the church. When he got back hefound the lady had been before him, for she had brought a bottle of thewater from the well with her to church, and while the man was running tothe well she had been quietly seated drinking the water in the churchporch!

[Illustration: ST. KEYNE'S WELL. ]

The story was told by the victim to a stranger, and the incident wasrecorded by Southey in his poem "The Well of St. Keyne":

 "You drank of the Well, I warrant, betimes?" He to the countryman said: But the countryman smiled as the stranger spake, And sheepishly shook his head:

 "I hastened as soon as the wedding was done, And left my wife in the porch; But i' faith! she had been wiser than me, For she took a bottle to church. "

It was at Liskeard that we first heard of George Borrow, a tramp likeourselves. Although we should have been pleased to have had a talk withhim, we should scarcely have been able to accompany him on one of hisjourneys, for he was 6 feet 3 inches in height against our 5 feet 8inches, and he would have been able to walk quicker than ourselves. Hewas born in 1803 and died in 1881, so that he was still alive when wewere walking through Cornwall, and was for many years a travelling agentfor the British and Foreign Bible Society. In the course of hiswanderings, generally on foot, he made a study of gipsy life, and wrotesome charming books about the Romany tribes, his _Lavengro_ and _RomanyRye_ being still widely read. He was a native of Norfolk, but his fatherwas born near Liskeard, to which place he paid a special visit at theend of 1853. On Christmas Day in that year, which was also a Sunday, hewalked to St. Cleer and attended service in the church, Mr. Berkeleybeing the preacher, and although there was no organ, he saw a fiddle inthe gallery, so fiddles must have then been in use in Cornwall. He wouldalso see the Well of St. Cleer, which was quite near the church, andmust in the time of the Saxons have been covered over with stone, as theold arches and columns were Saxon work. Borrow's father was born atTrethinnick Farm, near St. Cleer, which he also went to see. He leftLiskeard in January 1854 on a tramp through Truro and Penzance to Land'sEnd by almost the same route as that we were about to follow ourselves. As he made many notes during his wanderings in Cornwall, his friendsnaturally expected him to publish an account of his travels there, afterthe manner of a book he had published in 1862 entitled _Wild Wales_, butthey were disappointed, for none appeared. 

[Illustration: ST. CLEER'S WELL. ]

It was said that Cornwall did not grow wood enough to make a coffin, andthe absence of trees enabled us to see a number of huge, mysterious-looking stones: some upright and standing alone, others incircles, or in groups named cists composed of upright stones, forming acavity between them in the shape of a chest covered at the top, and notintended to be opened again, for they had been used as tombs. Occasionally the stones stood quite near our road, some in the shape ofcrosses, while we could see others in fields and on the top of smallhills. 

There were some remarkable stones near St. Cleer, including the famous"Cheesewring, " formed of eight circular stones each resembling a cheese, placed one on top of another and rising to a height of about eightyards; but the strange part about this curious erection was that thefour larger and heavier stones were at the top and the four smaller onesat the bottom. It was a mystery how in such remote times the builderscould have got those immense stones to the top of the others and therebalanced them so exactly as to withstand the storms of so many years. 

[Illustration: THE CHEESEWRING]

Near this supposed Druidical erection was a rough cave known as "DanielGumb's House, " formerly inhabited by a man of that name who came thereto study astrology and astronomy, and who was said to have had hisfamily with him. He left his record by cutting his name at the entranceto the cave, "D. Gumb 1735, " and by inscribing a figure on the roofrepresenting the famous 47th proposition in the First Book of Euclid. 

The Trethevy Menhir, a cromlech or "House of the Dead, " which GeorgeBorrow went to see, consisted of seven great hewn slabs which formed achamber inside about the height of a man; over the top was an enormousflat stone of such great weight as to make one wonder how it could havebeen placed there so many centuries ago. At one corner of the greatstone, which was in a slanting position, there was a hole the use ofwhich puzzled antiquarians; but George Borrow was said to have contrivedto get on the top of it and, putting his hand through the hole, shouted, "Success to old Cornwall, " a sentiment which we were fully prepared toendorse, for we thought the people we saw at the two extremes of ourjourney--say in Shetland, Orkney, and the extreme north of Scotland, andthose in Devon and Cornwall in the South of England--were the mosthomely and sociable people with whom we came in contact. 

[Illustration: "DANIEL GUMB'S HOUSE, " LISKEARD. ]

Some of the legends attached to the stones in Cornwall were of areligious character, one example being the three stone circles named the"Hurlers"; eleven in one circle, fourteen in another, and twelve in athird--thirty-seven in all; but only about one-half of them remainedstanding. Here indeed might be read a "sermon in stone, " and one of themmight have been preached from these circles, as the stones were said torepresent men who were hurling a ball one Sunday instead of attendingchurch, when they and the two pipers who were playing for them were allturned into stone for thus desecrating the Sabbath Day. 

We crossed the country to visit St. Neot, and as the village was awayfrom the main roads and situated on the fringe of Bodmin Moor, we weresurprised to find such a fine church there. We were informed that St. Neot was the second largest parish in Cornwall, and that the moor beyondhad been much more thickly populated in former times. We had passedthrough a place of the same name in Huntingdonshire in the previousyear, when walking home from London, and had been puzzled as to how topronounce the name; when we appealed to a gentleman we met on the roadoutside the town, he told us that the gentry called it St. Netts and thecommon people St. Noots, but here it was pronounced as spelt, with justa slight stress on the first syllable--St. Ne-ot, the letter "s" notbeing sounded officially. 

St. Neot, supposed to have been related to King Alfred, being either abrother or an uncle, came here from Glastonbury and built a hermitagenear his well, in which he would stand for hours immersed up to his neckin the water in order "to mortify his flesh and cultivate his memory, "while he recited portions of the Psalter, the whole of which he couldrepeat from memory. Though a dwarf, he was said to be able to rescuebeasts from the hunters and oxen from the thieves, and to live on twomiraculous fishes, which, though he ate them continually, were always tobe seen sporting in the water of his well!

St. Neot was the original burial-place of the saint, and in the churchthere was a curious stone casket or reliquary which formerly containedhis remains; but when they were carried off to enrich Eynesbury Abbey atthe Huntingdon St. Neots, all that was left here was a bone from one ofhis arms. This incident established the connection between the twoplaces so far apart. 

[Illustration: TRETHEVY STONES, LISKEARD. ]

The church had a beautiful Decorated tower and a finely carvedsixteenth-century roof, but its great glory consisted in its famousstained-glass windows, which were fifteen in number, and to each ofwhich had been given a special name, such as the Young Women's Window, the Wives' Window, and so on, while St. Neot's window in its twelvepanels represented incidents in the life of that saint. It was supposedthat these fine windows were second to none in all England, except thoseat Fairford church in Gloucestershire, which we had already seen, andwhich were undoubtedly the finest range of mediæval windows in thecountry. They were more in number, and had the great advantage of beingperfect, for in the time of the Civil War they had been taken away andhidden in a place of safety, and not replaced in the church until thecountry had resumed its normal condition. 

The glass in the lower panels of the windows in the Church of St. Neot's, Cornwall, had at that time been broken, but had been restored, the subjects represented being the same as before. Those windows namedafter the young women and the wives had been presented to the church inthe sixteenth century by the maids and mothers of the parish. 

On our way from here to Lostwithiel, which my brother thought might havebeen a suitable name for the place where we went astray last night, wepassed along Braddock or Broad-oak Moor, where in 1643, during the CivilWar, a battle was fought, in which Sir Ralph Hopton defeated theParliamentary Army and captured more than a thousand prisoners. Poetryseemed to be rather at a discount in Cornwall, but we copied thefollowing lines relating to this preliminary battle:

 When gallant Grenville stoutly stood And stopped the gap up with his blood, When Hopton led his Cornish band Where the sly conqueror durst not stand. We knew the Queen was nigh at hand. 

We must confess we did not understand this; it could not have beenSpenser's "Faerie Queene, " so we walked on to the Fairy Cross withoutseeing either the Queen or the Fairy, although we were fortunate to findwhat might be described as a Fairy Glen and to reach the old Castle ofRestormel, which had thus been heralded:

 To the Loiterer, the Tourist, or the Antiquary: the ivy-covered ruins of Restormel Castle will amply repay a visit, inasmuch as the remains of its former grandeur must, by the very nature of things, induce feelings of the highest and most dignified kind; they must force contemplative thought, and compel respect for the works of our forefathers and reverence for the work of the Creator's hand through centuries of time. 

[Illustration: RESTORMEL CASTLE. ]

It was therefore with some such thoughts as these that we walked alongthe lonely road leading up to the old castle, and rambled amongst thevenerable ruins. The last of the summer visitors had long sincedeparted, and the only sound we could hear was that made by the wind, asit whistled and moaned among the ivy-covered ruins, and in the treeswhich partly surrounded them, reminding us that the harvest was past andthe summer was ended, while indications of approaching winter were notwanting. 

The castle was circular in form, and we walked round the outside of iton the border of the moat which had formerly been filled with water, butnow was quite dry and covered with luxuriant grass. It was 60 feet wideand 30 feet deep, being formerly crossed by a drawbridge, not nowrequired. The ruins have thus been described by a modern poet:

 And now I reach the moat's broad marge, And at each pace more fair and large The antique pile grows on my sight, Though sullen Time's resistless might, Stronger than storms or bolts of heaven, Through wall and buttress rents have riven; And wider gaps had there been seen But for the ivy's buckler green, With stems like stalwart arms sustained; Here else had little now remained But heaps of stones, or mounds o'ergrown With nettles, or with hemlock sown. Under the mouldering gate I pass, And, as upon the thick rank grass With muffled sound my footsteps falls, Waking no echo from the walls, I feel as one who chanced to tread The solemn precincts of the dead. 

The mound on which the castle stood was originally of Celticconstruction, but was afterwards converted into one of the fortresseswhich the Normans built in the eastern part of Cornwall asrallying-points in case of any sudden insurrection among the "WestWelshmen. " The occupation of the fortress by the Normans was theimmediate cause of the foundation of the town of Lostwithiel, to which acharter was granted in 1196 by Robert de Cardinan, the then owner of thecastle and the surrounding country. 

An exchequer deed showed how the castle and town of Lostwithiel cameinto the possession of the Dukes of Cornwall:

 Know ye present and to come that I, Isolda-de-Tracey, daughter and heir of Andrew de Cardinan, have granted to Lord Richard, King of the Romans, my whole Manor of Tewington. . . . Moreover I have given and granted to the aforesaid Lord the King, Castle of Restormell and the villeinage in demesne, wood and meadows, and the whole Town of Lostwithiel, and water of Fowey, with the fishery, with all liberties, and free customs to the said water, town, and castle, belonging. Whereof the water of Fowey shall answer for two and a half knights fees (a "knight's fee" being equal to 600 acres of land). 

In the year 1225 Henry III gave the whole county of Cornwall, in fee, tohis brother Richard, who was created Earl of Cornwall by charter datedAugust 12th, 1231, and from that time Restormel became the property ofthe Earls of Cornwall. Afterwards, in 1338, when the Earldom was raisedto a Dukedom, the charter of creation settled on the Duchy, with othermanors, the castle and manor of Restormel, with the park and otherappurtenances in the county of Cornwall, together with the town ofLostwithiel: and it was on record that the park then contained 300 deer. Richard, Earl of Cornwall and King of the Romans, caused extensivealterations and improvements in the castle at Restormel, and often madeit his residence, and kept his Court there. He was elected King of theRomans or Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire at Frankfort on January 13th, 1256, and crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle, November 27th, 1257. Edward theBlack Prince, upon whom the Dukedom was confirmed when only seven yearsold, paid two visits to Restormel. The first of these was in 1354, possibly while his expedition to France was being prepared at Plymouth, and the second in 1363. 

In the time of the Civil War the commanding position of the castlecaused it to be repaired and held by the Parliamentarians; but after thedisastrous defeat of their army under the Earl of Essex in 1644 it wasgarrisoned by Sir Richard Grenville for the King. In recent times itwas again visited by royalty, for on Tuesday, September 8th, 1846, theroyal yacht _Victoria and Albert_ sailed into Fowey and landed a royalparty, who drove to Restormel Castle. It revived old memories to readthe names of the party who came here on that occasion, for in additionto Queen Victoria and her husband, Prince Albert, there were thePrincess Royal and the Prince of Wales, Lady Jocelyn, Miss Kerr, Mdlle. Geuner, Lord Spencer, Lord Palmerston, Sir James Clark, Mr. Anson, andCol. Grey. 

The castle was not a very large one, and we were more impressed by theloneliness of its situation than by the ruin itself, for there was along approach to it without a cottage or a friendly native in sight, nordid we see any one in the lonely road of quite a mile along which wepassed afterwards to the town of Lostwithiel. But this road was quitepleasant, following the tree-covered course of the River Fowey, andlined with ferns and the usual flower-bearing plants all the way to thattown. 

[Illustration: LOSTWITHIEL ANCIENT BRIDGE AND LANDING PLACE. ]

Here we rejoined the Liskcard highway, which crossed the river by anancient bridge said to date from the fourteenth century. At this pointthe river had long ago been artificially widened so as to form a basinand landing-place for the small boats which then passed to and frobetween Fowey and Lostwithiel. 

The derivation of the last place-name was somewhat doubtful, but thegeneral interpretation seemed to be that its original form wasLis-guythiel, meaning the "Palace in the Wood, " which might be correct, since great trees still shut in the range of old buildings representingthe remains of the old Palace or Duchy House. The buildings, which wereby no means lofty, were devoted to purposes of an unimportant character, but they had a decidedly dungeon-like appearance, and my brother, whoclaimed to be an authority on Shakespeare because he had once committedto memory two passages from the great bard's writings, assured me thatif these old walls were gifted with speech, like the ghost thatappeared to Hamlet, they "could a tale unfold, whose lightest word wouldharrow up our souls; freeze our young blood; make our eyes, like stars, start from their spheres; our knotted and combined locks to part, andeach particular hair to stand on end like quills upon the fretfulporcupine"; but fortunately "this eternal blazon must not be to ears offlesh and blood, " and so we hurried away up the town. 

Lostwithiel, one of the Stannary towns, was at one time the only coinagetown in Cornwall, and traces of the old Mint and Stannary Court couldyet be seen. The town had formerly the honour of being represented inParliament by the famous writer, statesman, and poet, Joseph Addison. 

[Illustration: LOSTWITHIEL CHURCH, SOUTH PORCH AND CROSS]

The church was dedicated to St. Bartholomew, and was described as "aperfect example of the Decorated period" and the "glory of Cornwall. " Itpossessed a lantern spire "of a kind unexampled elsewhere in the West ofEngland"; but as our standard was high, since we had seen so manychurches, we failed to appreciate these features, and, generallyspeaking, there were no very fine churches in Cornwall compared withthose in other counties. This church, however, had passed through somelively scenes in the Civil War, when the Royalist army was driving thatof the Parliament towards the sea-coast, where it was afterwardscornered and captured. A Provost named Marshall commanded the detachmentof the Parliamentary forces at Lostwithiel, and to show their contemptfor the religion of the Church of England, they desecrated the church byleading one of their horses to the font and christening him Charles "incontempt of his most sacred Majesty the King. " Meanwhile two Cavaliers, supporters of the King, and gentlemen of some repute in the county, hadhidden themselves in the church tower and drawn the ladder up afterthem. When they saw the Provost preparing to depart, for he was now in ahurry to get away from the approaching Royalist soldiers, they jeered athim through a window in the tower. He called to them, "I'll fetch youdown, " and sent men with some "mulch and hay" to set fire to the towerinto which the Cavaliers had climbed, but they only jeered at him themore, which caused him to try gunpowder, intending, as he could notsmoke them out, to blow them out; but he only succeeded in blowing a fewtiles off the roof of the church. The font was a fine one, octagonal inform, and carved on all the eight panels, though some of the figures hadbeen mutilated; but it was still possible to discern a horrible-lookingface covered with a wreath of snakes, a mitred head of a bishop, afigure of a knight with a hawk, horn, and hound, and other animalsscarcely suitable, we thought, for a font. 

The army of the Parliament was gradually driven to Fowey, where 6, 000 ofthem were taken prisoner, while their commander, the Earl of Essex, escaped by sea. Fowey was only about six miles away from Lostwithiel, and situated at the mouth of the River Fowey. It was at one time thegreatest port on the coast of Cornwall, and the abode of some of thefiercest fighting men in the British Isles. From that port vesselssailed to the Crusades, and when Edward III wanted ships and men for thesiege of Calais, Fowey responded nobly to the call, furnishing 47 shipsmanned by 770 men. The men of Fowey were the great terror of the Frenchcoast, but in 1447 the French landed in the night and burnt the town. After this two forts were built, one on each side of the entrance to theriver, after the manner of those at Dartmouth, a stout iron chain beingdropped between them at nightfall. Fowey men were in great favour withEdward IV because of their continued activity against the French; butwhen he sent them a message, "I am at peace with my brother of France, "the Fowey men replied that they were at war with him! As this was likelyto create friction between the two countries, and as none of his mendared go to Fowey owing to the warlike character of its inhabitants, theKing decided to resort to strategy, but of a rather mean character. Hedespatched men to Lostwithiel, who sent a deputation to Fowey to saythey wished to consult the Fowey men about some new design upon France. The latter, not suspecting any treachery, came over, and wereimmediately seized and their leader hanged; while men were sent by seafrom Dartmouth to remove their harbour chain and take away their ships. Possibly the ships might afterwards have been restored to them uponcertain conditions, but it was quite an effectual way of preventingtheir depredations on the coast of France. 

They seem to have been a turbulent race of people at Fowey, for theyonce actually became dissatisfied with their patron saint, the Irish St. Finbar, and when they rebuilt their church in 1336 they dismissed himand adopted St. Nicholas to guide their future destinies. Perhaps itwas because St. Nicholas was the patron saint of all sailors, as heallayed a great storm when on a voyage to the Holy Land. What is nownamed Drake's Island, off Plymouth, was formerly named St. Nicholas. Itwould not be difficult to find many other churches dedicated to St. Nicholas on the sea-coast from there to the north, and we remembered hewas the patron saint at Aberdeen. 

St. Nicholas is also the patron saint of the Russians, some of the Czarsof that mighty Empire having been named after him. While St. Catherineis the patron saint of the girls, St. Nicholas is the patron saint ofthe boys, and strange to relate is also the patron saint of parishclerks, who were formerly called "scholars. "

When pictured in Christian art this saint is dressed in the robe of abishop, with three purses, or three golden balls, or three children. Thethree purses represent those given by him to three sisters to enablethem to marry; but we did not know the meaning of the three goldenballs, unless it was that they represented the money the pursescontained. My brother suggested they might have some connection with thethree golden balls hanging outside the pawnbrokers' shops. Afterwards wefound St. Nicholas was the patron saint of that body. But the threechildren were all boys, who once lived in the East, and being sent to aschool at Athens, were told to call on St. Nicholas on their way for hisbenediction. They stopped for the night at a place called Myra, wherethe innkeeper murdered them for their money and baggage, and placedtheir mangled bodies in a pickling-tub, intending to sell them as pork. St. Nicholas, however, saw the tragedy in a vision, and went to the inn, where the man confessed the crime, whilst St. Nicholas, by a miracle, raised the murdered boys to life again!

Sometimes he had been nicknamed "Nick, " or "Old Nick, " and then hebecame a demon, or the Devil, or the "Evil spirit of the North. " InScandinavia he was always associated with water either in sea or lake, river or waterfall, his picture being changed to that of ahorrid-looking creature, half-child and half-horse, the horse's feetbeing shown the wrong way about. Sometimes, again, he was shown as anold black man like an imp, sitting on a rock and wringing the drippingwater from his long black hair!

On our way towards St. Austell we passed some very interesting places tothe right and left of our road, and had some fine views of the sea. Presently we arrived at a considerable village inhabited by miners, thename of which we did not know until my brother, who was walking with aminer in the rear, suddenly called to me, and pointing to a name on aboard, said: "See where we've got to!" When my brother called out thename of the place, I heard a man shout from across the road in atriumphant tone of voice, "Yes, you're in it now, sir!" and sure enoughwe had arrived at St. Blazey, a rather queer name, we thought, for aplace called after a saint! But, unlike the people of Fowey, theinhabitants seemed quite satisfied with their saint, and indeed ratherproud of him than otherwise. Asked where we could get some coffee andsomething to eat, the quarryman to whom my brother had been talkingdirected us to a temperance house near at hand, where we were wellserved. We were rather surprised at the number of people who came inafter us at intervals, but it appeared afterwards that my brother hadincidentally told the man with whom he was walking about our longjourney, and that we had walked about 1, 300 miles. The news hadcirculated rapidly about the village, and we eventually found ourselvesthe centre of a crowd anxious to see us, and ask questions. They seemedquite a homely, steady class of men, and gave us a Cornish welcome and aCornish cheer as we left the village. 

[Illustration: SARCOPHAGUS OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON IN THE CRYPT OF ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL. ]

Just before reaching St. Blazey, however, we walked a short distance upa very charming little valley, which has been described as a paradise offerns, wooden glades, and granite boulders, and possesses some of thefinest landscapes in the district, with the ground in springtime azurewith wild hyacinths. Some of the finest ferns grew in profusion in thisglen, including the "Osmunda regalis" and the graceful lady fern; but, fortunately for the ferns, much of the valley passed through privategrounds, and the pretty Carmears waterfall could only be seen on certaindays. 

The parish church of Luxulyan, after which village the valley was named, stood at the head of the glen, and as the people of Cornwall had so manysaints, they had been able to spare two of them for Luxulyan, so thatthe church was dedicated conjointly to St. Cyricus and St. Julitta, while the name of a third was said to be concealed in the modern name ofthe village, St. Suhan, a saint who also appeared in Wales and Brittany. The name of the village well was St. Cyricus, which probably accountedfor the name appearing the first in the dedication of the church. Thechurch tower at one time contained the Cornish Stannary Records, but inthe time of the Civil War they had been removed for greater safety toLostwithiel, where they were unfortunately destroyed. There were manyancient and disused tin workings in the parish of Luxulyan, but aparticularly fine kind of granite was quarried there, for use inbuildings where durability was necessary--the lighthouse and beacon onPlymouth Breakwater having both been built with granite obtained fromthese quarries. There was also a very hard variety of granite much usedby sculptors called porphyry, a very hard and variegated rock of a mixedpurple-and-white colour. When the Duke of Wellington died, the Continentwas searched for the most durable stone for his sepulchre, sufficientlygrand and durable to cover his remains, but none could be found to excelthat at Luxulyan. A huge boulder of porphyry, nearly all of it aboveground, lying in a field where it had lain from time immemorial, wasselected. It was estimated to weigh over seventy tons, and was wroughtand polished near the spot where it was found. When complete it wasconveyed thence to St. Paul's Cathedral, and now forms the sarcophagusof the famous Iron Duke. The total cost was about £1, 100. 

We had now to walk all the way to Land's End through a tin-miningcountry, which really extended farther than that, as some of the mineswere under the sea. But the industry was showing signs of decay, forCornwall had no coal and very little peat, and the native-grown timberhad been practically exhausted. She had therefore to depend on the coalfrom South Wales to smelt the ore, and it was becoming a questionwhether it was cheaper to take the ore to the coal or the coal to theore, the cost being about equal in either case. Meantime many miners hadleft the country, and others were thinking of following them to Africaand America, while many of the more expensive mines to work had beenclosed down. The origin of tin mining in Cornwall was of remoteantiquity, and the earliest method of raising the metal was thatpracticed in the time of Diodorus by streaming--a method more likemodern gold-digging, since the ore in the bed of the streams, havingbeen already washed there for centuries, was much purer than that foundin the lodes. Diodorus Siculus, about the beginning of the ChristianEra, mentioned the inhabitants of Belerium as miners and smelters oftin, and wrote: "After beating it up into knucklebone shapes, they carryit to a certain island lying off Britain named Ictis (probably the Isleof Wight), and thence the merchants buy it from the inhabitants andcarry it over to Gaul, and lastly, travelling by land through Gaul aboutthirty days, they bring down the loads on horses to the mouth of theRhine. "

There was no doubt in our own minds that the mining of tin in Cornwallwas the most ancient industry known in Britain, and had existed there inthe time of prehistoric man. We often found ourselves speculating aboutthe age, and the ages of man. The age of man was said to be seventy, andmight be divided thus:

 At ten a child, at twenty wild, At thirty strong, if ever! At forty wise, at fifty rich, At sixty good, or never!

There were some curious Celtic lines which described the age of animalscompared with that of man:

 Thrice the age of a dog is that of a horse; Thrice the age of a horse is that of a man; Thrice the age of a man is that of a deer; Thrice the age of a deer is that of an eagle. 

The ages of man were divided into three by Lucretius as:

 (1) "The Stone Age, " when celts or implements of stone were employed. (2) "The Bronze Age, " when implements were made of copper and brass. (3) "The Iron Age, " when implements were made of iron, as in the present day. 

This being the order of antiquity and materials employed in making theimplements, it was therefore safe to conclude that the mining of tinmust have dated back as far as the Bronze Age, for there could have beenno bronze made without tin, since bronze is produced by the mixing ofcopper and tin. 

Appliances for crushing and smelting the ore were already in existencein very early times, as well as blowing-houses and moulds in which torun the molten metal. The ingots of tin were in the form of an astragal, and an ancient ingot of large size dredged up in Falmouth Harbour, weighing 150 lbs. , resembled the letter H in form. This was the mostconvenient shape for carriage, either in a boat or slung across the backof a horse, and horses were employed in that way to convey the tin alongthe steep and narrow roads from the mines to the sea-coast. 

The Romans made use of the Cornish mines, for an ingot of tin bearing aRoman stamp and inscription was preserved in the Truro Museum, and Romancoins had been found in the mines. 

With St. Austell's Bay to our left, we soon came in sight of the town ofSt. Austell, behind which were the Hensbarrow Downs, rising over 1, 000feet above sea-level. From the beacon on the top the whole of Cornwallcan be seen on a clear day, bounded by the Bristol Channel on one sideand the English Channel on the other; on the lower reaches, and quitenear St. Austell, were the great tin mines of Carclaze, some of thelargest and most ancient in Cornwall. 

Another great industry was also being carried on, as in the year 1768 W. Cookworthy, a Plymouth Quaker, had discovered an enormous bed of whiteclay, which had since been so extensively excavated that the workingsnow resembled the crater of an extinct volcano. This clay, of the finestquality, was named China clay, because it was exactly similar to thatused in China, where porcelain was made many centuries before it wasmade in England, the process of its manufacture being kept a profoundsecret by the Chinese, whose country was closed to Europeans. 

A story, however, was told of an Englishman who succeeded in enteringChina and obtaining employment at one of the potteries, where heeventually became acquainted with the secrets of the whole business. Thedifficulties he experienced in getting out of the country again, and hisadventures and hairbreadth escapes from death, were thrilling to listento. The pattern on the famous Willow plates, which he was afterwardsable to produce in England, was commonly supposed to represent some ofhis own adventures, and he was thought to be the man pictured as beingpursued across a bridge and escaping in a boat. This, however, was notcorrect, as all the views had been copied from the original Chinesewillow pattern, the interpretation of which was as follows:

 To the right is a lordly Mandarin's country-seat, which is two storeys high to show the rank and wealth of the possessor. In the foreground is a pavilion, and in the background an orange-tree, while to the right of the pavilion is a peach-tree in full bearing. The estate is enclosed by an elegant wooden fence, and at one end of the bridge stands the famous willow-tree and at the other is the gardener's cottage, one storey high, and so humble that the grounds are uncultivated, the only green thing being a small fir-tree at the back. 

 At the top of the pattern on the left-hand side is an island with a cottage; the grounds are highly cultivated and much of the land has been reclaimed from the water. The two birds are turtle-doves, and the three figures on the bridge are the Mandarin's daughter with a distaff, nearest the cottage, the lover with a box is shown in the middle, and nearest the willow-tree is the Mandarin with a whip. 

[Illustration: THE LOVE-STORY OF LI-CHI AND CHANG. ]

The written history of China goes back for 4, 000 years, a period morethan twice that over which English history can be traced; and it isabout 2, 600 years since Confucius wrote his wonderful laws. Since thattime his teachings have been followed by countless millions of hiscountrymen, and temples have been erected to him all over that greatcountry, whose population numbers more than 300 millions. 

The origin of the legend represented on the willow pattern musttherefore have been of remote antiquity, and the following is the recordof the tradition:

 The Mandarin had an only daughter named Li-chi, who fell in love with Chang, a young man who lived in the island home represented at the top of the pattern, and who had been her father's secretary. The father overheard them one day making vows of love under the orange-tree, and sternly forbade the unequal match; but the lovers contrived to elope. They lay concealed for a while in the gardener's cottage, and thence made their escape in a boat to the island-home of the young lover. The enraged Mandarin pursued them with a whip, and would have beaten them to death had not the gods rewarded their fidelity by changing them into turtle-doves. 

 The picture is called the willow pattern not only because it is a tale of disastrous love, but because the elopement occurred when the willow begins to shed its leaves. 

Much of the clay at Carclaze was being sent to the Staffordshirepotteries, to be used in the production of the finest porcelain. It wasloaded in ships and taken round the coast via Liverpool to Runcorn, aport on the River Mersey and the terminus of the Duke of Bridgewater'sCanal, where it was transhipped into small boats, which conveyed it tothe potteries in Staffordshire, involving a carriage of about fiftymiles, After being manufactured into porcelain, it was packed intocrates and again consigned by canal to many places inland and toLiverpool for shipment abroad, the carriage being cheaper and safer thanif consigned by rail, owing to the fragile nature of the goods. Some ofthe earthenware had of course to be sent by rail, but the breakages inshunting operations and the subsequent claims on the railway companiescaused the rate of carriage to be very high. 

In later years the pottery trade became rather depressed owing tocompetition from abroad, and a story was told of a traveller from theStaffordshire Potteries who called at a wholesale house in London wherehe invariably got some orders, but on this occasion was unsuccessful. When he inquired the reason, he was taken to the warehouse and shown asmall china tea service. "Do you know that?" asked the manager. "Yes!"quickly replied the traveller; "that comes from so-and-so in thePotteries, and is their favourite pattern and design!" "And what did Ipay for it?" "Twelve and six, " promptly replied the traveller. "Ah, "said his customer, "you are wrong this time; that set cost us 10s. 6d. , and came from Germany!" The traveller reported the matter to his firm, who on inquiry discovered that the Germans had erected a pottery ontheir sea-coast and, by taking advantage of sea carriage both ways, wereable to undersell the British manufacturer with pottery for which theclay had been found in his own country. 

Arriving at St. Austell, we had a look round the town, and visited thechurch, which was dedicated to St. Austell. But in the previous year ithad undergone a restoration, and there appeared to be some doubt whetherthe figure on the tower was that of the patron saint or not. There wereother figures, but the gargoyles were as usual the ugliest of the lot. 

There was formerly a curious clock there which was mentioned in an olddeed of the time of Edward VI recording that St. Austell's tower had"four bells and a clok, " but the bells had been increased to eight and anew clock placed in the tower, though the face of the old one, representing the twenty-four hours in as many circles, could still beseen. When the old clock had been made, it was evident there was norepetition in the afternoon of the morning's numerals, as the hoursafter twelve noon were the thirteenth and fourteenth, and so on up totwenty-four. The church porch was quite a fine erection, with a chamberbuilt over it, at one time used as a sleeping-room by travelling monks, and, like the nave, with a battlement along the top, an old inscriptionover the porch, "Ry du, " having been interpreted as meaning "Give toGod. " The carving over the doorway represented a pelican feeding itsyoung with blood from its own breast, and a sundial bore the verysignificant motto:

 Every hour shortens man's life. 

Inside the church there was a curiosity in the shape of a wooden tablet, on which was painted a copy of a letter of thanks from King Charles I tothe county of Cornwall for its assistance during his conflict with theRoundheads, It was written from his camp at Sudeley Castle on September10th, 1643, and was one of several similar tablets to be found invarious churches in Cornwall. 

[Illustration: REV. JOHN WESLEY. (_The Founder of Methodism inEngland. _)]

The Wesleyan chapel at St. Austell, with accommodation for acongregation of 1, 000 persons, also attracted our attention, as it had afrontage like that of a mansion, with columns supporting the frontentrance, and was situated in a very pleasant part of the town. JohnWesley laboured hard in Cornwall, and we were pleased to see evidencesof his great work there as we travelled through the Duchy; and asCornishmen must surround the memory of their saints with legends, it didnot surprise us that they had one about Mr. Wesley. He was travellinglate one night over a wild part of Cornwall when a terrific storm cameon, and the only shelter at hand was a mansion that had the reputationof being haunted. He found his way into the hall and lay down on a benchlistening to the raging elements outside until he fell fast asleep. About midnight he awoke and was surprised to find the table in the halllaid out for a banquet, and a gaily dressed company, including agentleman with a red feather in his cap, already assembled. This personoffered Wesley a vacant chair and invited him to join them, aninvitation which he accepted; but before he took a bite or a sup he rosefrom his chair, and said, "Gentlemen! it is my custom to ask a blessingon these occasions, " and added, "Stand all!" The company rose, but as hepronounced the sacred invocation the room grew dark and the ghostlyguests vanished. 

We should have liked to hear what followed, but this was left to ourimagination, which became more active as the darkness of night came on. As we walked we saw some beautiful spar stones used to repair the roads, which would have done finely for our rockeries. 

Late that night we entered Truro, destined to become years afterwards acathedral town. 

(_Distance walked thirty-three miles_. )

_Friday, November 17th. _

Truro formerly possessed a castle, but, as in the case of Liskeard, nota vestige now remained, and even Leland, who traced the site, describedthe castle as being "clene down. " He also described the position of thetown itself, and wrote, "The creke of Truro afore the very towne isdivided into two parts, and eche of them has a brook cumming down and abridge, and this towne of Truro betwixt them both. " These two brookswere the Allen, a rivulet only, and the Kenwyn, a larger stream, whilethe "creke of Truro" was a branch of the Falmouth Harbour, and quite afine sheet of water at high tide. Truro was one of the Stannary Towns asa matter of course, for according to tradition it was near here that tinwas first discovered. 

The discoverer of this valuable metal was said to have been St. Piran, or St. Perran--as the Roman Catholic Church in Truro was dedicated toSt. Piran we agreed to record that as the correct name. The legendstated that he was an Irish saint who in his own country had been ableby his prayers to sustain the Irish kings and their armies for ten dayson three cows! But in spite of his great services to his country, because of his belief in Christ his countrymen condemned him to die, bybeing thrown over a precipice into the sea, with a millstone hung abouthis neck. The day appointed for his execution was very stormy, but agreat crowd of "wild Irish" assembled, and St. Piran was thrown over therocks. At that very moment the storm ceased and there was a great calm. They looked over the cliffs to see what had become of him, and to theirintense astonishment saw the saint calmly sitting upon the millstone andbeing carried out to sea. They watched him until he disappeared fromtheir sight, and all who saw this great miracle were of courseimmediately converted to Christianity. St. Piran floated safely acrossthe sea and landed on the coast of Cornwall, not at Truro, but on asandy beach about ten miles away from that town, the place where helanded being named after him at the present day. When the natives sawhim approaching their coasts, they thought he was sailing on wood, andwhen they found it was stone they also were converted to Christianity. St. Piran built an oratory and lived a lonely and godly life, ornamenting his cell with all kinds of crystals and stones gathered fromthe beach and the rocks, and adorning his altar with the choicestflowers. On one occasion, when about to prepare a frugal meal, hecollected some stones in a circle and made a fire from some fuel closeto hand. Fanned by the wind, the heat was intensified more than usual, with the result that he noticed a stream of beautiful white metalflowing out of the fire. "Great was the joy of the saint when heperceived that God in His goodness had discovered to him something thatwould be useful to man. " Such was the origin of tin smelting inCornwall. St. Piran revealed the secret to St. Chiwidden, who, beinglearned in many sciences, at once recognised the value of the metal. Thenews gradually spread to distant lands, and eventually reached Tyre, theancient city of the Phoenicians, so that their merchants came toCornwall to buy tin in the days of King Solomon. The Britons then, fearing an invasion, built castles on their coast, including that on St. Michael's Mount, while St. Piran became the most popular saint inCornwall and eventually the patron saint of the miners of tin. His namewas associated with many places besides the sands he landed upon, including several villages, as well as a cross, a chapel, a bay, a well, and a coombe. But perhaps the strangest of all was St. Piran's Round, near Perranzabuloe Village. This, considered one of the most remarkableearthworks in the kingdom, and of remote antiquity, was a remarkableamphitheatre 130 feet in diameter, with traces of seven tiers of seats;it has been used in modern times for the performance of miracle-plays. 

One of the "brooks" at Truro mentioned by Leland was the River Kenwyn, which joined the River Allen to form the Truro River; but before doingso the Kenwyn, or some portion of its overflow, had been so divertedthat the water ran down the gutters of the principal streets. It was anovelty to us to see the water so fresh and clean running down each sideof the street--not slowly, but as if at a gallop. 

In the time of the Civil War Truro was garrisoned for the King, but in1646, after a fierce engagement between the Royalists under Sir RalphHopton and Cromwell's forces under Sir Thomas Fairfax, a treaty wassigned at Tresillian River Bridge (a pretty place which we had passedlast night, about three miles outside the town on the St. Austell road), by which Truro was surrendered quietly to the Parliament. 

The Grammar School, where many eminent men had been educated, wasfounded in 1549. Among its old pupils was included Sir Humphry Davy, born in 1778, the eminent chemist who was the first to employ theelectric current in chemical decomposition and to discover nitric oxideor "laughing gas. " He was also the inventor of the famous safety-lampwhich bears his name, and which has been the means of saving the livesof thousands of miners. 

Truro was the birthplace of several men of note: Samuel Foote, RichardLander, and Henry Martyn, two of them having been born in public-housesin the town. 

Samuel Foote, a famous dramatist and comedian, was born at the "OldKing's Head Inn" in 1720, and was buried in Westminster Abbey in 1777. He was a clever actor and mimic, "and kept London in a good humour"; hewrote the _Mayor of Garrett_ and many other comedies. 

Richard Lander, born at the "Fighting Cocks Inn" in 1804, became famousas an African explorer. He took part in the expedition to Africa whichwas the first to discover and trace the Niger. He was injured by savagesand died at Fernando Po in 1834. 

Henry Martyn, born in 1781, the son of a miner, was a noble and devotedmissionary. He left home when twenty-four years of age to labour amongstthe Hindus and Mahometans at Cawnpore in India, and travelled in Persiaand Armenia. He translated portions of the Bible and Prayer Book intothe Persian and Hindustani languages, and at last, weary and worn out inhis Master's service, died of fever at Tokat in 1812. 

[Illustration: THE FRONTAGE, OLD ST. MARY'S CHURCH. ]

St. Mary's Church was built in 1518, and was remarkable for its two eastwindows and some fine carving on the walls outside. It was surrounded bynarrow streets and ancient buildings. We had no time to explore theinterior, so contented ourselves with a visit to an old stone preservedby the Corporation and inscribed:

 DANIEL JENKIN, MAIOR, WHO SEEKS TO FIND ETERNAL TREASVRE MVST VSE NO GVILE IN WEIGHT AND MEASVRE. 1618. 

We now considered that we had arrived at the beginning of the end of ourjourney, and left Truro with the determination to reach Land's End onthe morrow, Saturday. We continued our walk as near the sea as therivers or inlets would admit, for we were anxious to see as much aspossible of the fine rock scenery of the Cornish coast. We were in thebest of health and spirits, and a thirty-mile walk seemed to have noeffect upon us whatever, beyond causing a feeling of drowsiness whenentering our hotel for the night. 

We soon arrived at the quaint little village with a name, as my brothersaid, almost as long as itself, Perranarworthal, connected with Falmouthby a creek, which seemed to have made an effort to cross Cornwall fromone side to the other, or from one Channel to the other. It was atFalmouth that on one dark stormy night some years previously the ship mybrother was travelling by called for cargo, and the shelter of theharbour was much appreciated after passing through the stormy seaoutside. Perran in the name of the village meant the same as Piran, andthe small church there was dedicated to that saint, who deserved to becalled the St. Patrick of Cornwall, for he occupied the same position inthe popular imagination here as that saint did in Ireland. It was inthis parish that St. Piran had his Holy Well, but that had nowdisappeared, for accidentally it had been drained off by miningoperations. 

Gwennap was only about three miles away--formerly the centre of therichest mining district in Cornwall, the mines there being nearly sixhundred yards deep, and the total length of the roads or workings inthem about sixty miles. No similar space in the Old World contained somuch mineral wealth, for the value of the tin mined during one centurywas estimated at ten million pounds sterling. After the mines wereabandoned the neighbourhood presented a desolate and ruined appearance. 

[Illustration: OLD ST. MARY'S CHURCH, TRURO. (_The Cathedral of Truro isnow built on the site where this old church formerly stood. _)]

Many human remains belonging to past ages had been found buried in thesands in this neighbourhood; but Gwennap had one glorious memory of thedeparted dead, for John Wesley visited the village several times topreach to the miners, and on one occasion (1762), on a very windy day, when the sound of his voice was being carried away by the wind, he triedthe experiment--which proved a great success--of preaching in the bottomof a wide dry pit, the miners standing round him on the sloping sidesand round the top. The pit was supposed to have been formed bysubsidences resulting from the mining operations below, and as he usedit on subsequent occasions when preaching to immense congregations, itbecame known as "Wesley's Preaching Pit. " It must have been a patheticsight when, in his eighty-fifth year, he preached his last sermon there. "His open-air preaching was powerful in the extreme, his energy anddepth of purpose inspiring, and his organising ability exceptional; andas an evangelist of the highest character, with the world as his parish, he was the founder of the great religious communion of 'the peoplecalled Methodists. '" It was therefore scarcely to be wondered at thatthe Gwennap pit should be considered as holy ground, and that it shouldbecome the Mecca of the Cornish Methodists and of others from all overthe world. Wesley died in 1791, and in 1803 the pit was brought to itspresent condition--a circular pit formed into steps or seats rising oneabove another from the bottom to the top, and used now for the greatannual gathering of the Methodists held during Whitsuntide. The idea wasprobably copied from St. Piran's Round, a similar but much olderformation a few miles distant. 

[Illustration: GWENNAP PIT, REDRUTH. ]

Penryn was the next place we visited, and a very pretty place too! Itwas situated on the slope of a picturesque hill surrounded by orchardsand gardens, and luxuriant woodlands adorned its short but beautifulriver. The sea view was of almost unequalled beauty, and included themagnificent harbour of Falmouth, of which an old writer said that "ahundred vessels may anchor in it, and not one see the mast ofanother"--of course when ships were smaller. 

The old church at Penryn was that of St. Gluvias, near which were a fewremains of Glassiney College, formerly the chief centre from which thevernacular literature of Cornwall was issued and whence our knowledge ofthe old legends and mysteries of Cornwall was derived. The town was saidto have had a court-leet about the time of the Conquest, but the boroughwas first incorporated in the seventeenth century by James I. TheCorporation possessed a silver cup and cover, presented to them by thenotorious Lady Jane Killigrew, and inscribed--"To the town of Penmarinwhen they received me that was in great misery. J. K. 1633. " Lady Jane'strouble arose through her ladyship and her men boarding some Dutchvessels that lay off Falmouth, stealing their treasure, and causing thedeath of some of their crews. 

In the time of James I. A Spanish man-of-war came unseen through themist of the harbour, and despatched a well-armed crew with muffled oarsto plunder and burn the town of Penryn. They managed to land in thedarkness, and were about to begin their depredations when suddenly theyheard a great sound of drums and trumpets and the noise of many people. This so alarmed them that they beat a rapid retreat, thinking themilitia had been called out by some spy who had known of their arrival. But the Penryn people were in happy ignorance of their danger. Ithappened that some strolling actors were performing a tragedy, and thebattle scene was just due as the Spaniards came creeping up in thedarkness; hence the noise. When the Penryn folk heard the followingmorning what had happened, it was said they had to thank Shakespeare fortheir lucky escape. 

No one passing through the smiling and picturesque town of Penryn woulddream that that beautiful place could ever have been associated withsuch a fearful and horrid event as that known to history as the "PenrynTragedy, " which happened during the reign of James I. 

At that time there lived at the Bohechland Farm in the parish of St. Gluvias a well-to-do farmer and his wife and family. Their youngest sonwas learning surgery, but, not caring for that profession, and being ofa wild and roving disposition, he ran away to sea, and eventually becamea pirate and the captain of a privateer. He was very successful in hisevil business, amassing great wealth, and he habitually carried his mostvaluable jewels in a belt round his waist. At length he ventured intothe Mediterranean, and attacked a Turkish ship, but, owing to anaccident, his powder magazine exploded, and he and his men were blowninto the air, some of them being killed and others injured. The captainescaped, however, and fell into the sea. He was an expert swimmer, andreached the Island of Rhodes, where he had to make use of his stolenjewels to maintain himself. He was trying to sell one of them to a Jewwhen it was recognised as belonging to the Dey of Algiers. He wasarrested, and sentenced to the galleys as a pirate, but soon gainedgreat influence over the other galley slaves, whom he persuaded tomurder their officers and escape. The plan succeeded, and the ringleadermanaged to get on a Cornish boat bound for London. Here he obtained aposition as assistant to a surgeon, who took him to the East Indies, where his early training came in useful, and after a while theCornishman began to practise for himself. Fortunately for him, he wasable to cure a rajah of his disease, which restored his fortune, and hedecided to return to Cornwall. The ship was wrecked on the Cornishcoast, and again his skill in swimming saved him. He had been away forfifteen years, and now found his sister married to a mercer in Penryn;she, however, did not know him until he bared his arm and showed her amark which had been there in infancy. She was pleased to see him, andtold him that their parents had lost nearly all their money. Then heshowed her his possessions, gold and jewels, and arranged to go thatnight as a stranger to his parents' home and ask for lodgings, while shewas to follow in the morning, when he would tell them who he was. Whenhe knocked, his father opened the door, and saw a ragged andweather-beaten man who asked for food and an hour's shelter. Taking himto be a sea-faring man, he willingly gave him some food, and afterwardsasked him to stay the night. After supper they sat by the fire talkinguntil the farmer retired to rest. Then his wife told the sailor howunfortunate they had been and how poor they were, and that they wouldsoon have to be sold up and perhaps finish their life in a workhouse. Hetook a piece of gold out of his belt and told her there was enough in itto pay all their debts, and after that there would be some left forhimself. The sight of the gold and jewels excited the woman's cupidity, and when the sailor was fast asleep she woke her husband, told him whathad happened, and suggested that they should murder the sailor and buryhis body next day in the garden. The farmer was very unwilling, but hiswife at length persuaded him to go with her. Finding the sailor stillfast asleep, they cut his throat and killed him, and covered him up withthe bedclothes till they should have an opportunity of burying him. Inthe morning their daughter came and asked where the sailor was whocalled on them the previous night, but they said no sailor had beenthere. "But, " she said, "he must be here, for he is my brother, and yourlong-lost son; I saw the scar on his arm. " The mother turning deadlypale sank in a chair, while with an oath the father ran upstairs, sawthe scar, and then killed himself with the knife with which he hadkilled his son. The mother followed, and, finding her husband dead, plunged the knife in her own breast. The daughter, wondering why theywere away so long, went upstairs, and was so overcome with horror atseeing the awful sight that she fell down on the floor in a fit fromwhich she never recovered!

The first difficulty we had to contend with on continuing our journeywas the inlet of the River Helford, but after a rough walk through arather lonely country we found a crossing-place at a place named Gweek, at the head of the river, which we afterwards learned was the scene ofHereward's Cornish adventures, described by Charles Kingsley in_Hereward the last of the English_, published in 1866. 

Here we again turned towards the sea, and presently arrived at Helston, an ancient and decaying town supposed to have received its name from ahuge boulder which once formed the gate to the infernal regions, and wasdropped by Lucifer after a terrible conflict with the Archangel St. Michael, in which the fiend was worsted by the saint. This stone wasstill supposed to be seen by credulous visitors at the "Angel Inn, " butas we were not particularly interested in that angel, who, we inferred, might have been an angel of darkness, or in a stone of such a doubtfulcharacter, we did not go to the inn. 

Helston was one of the Stannary Towns, and it was said that vesselscould at one time come quite near it. Daniel Defoe has described it asbeing "large and populous, with four spacious streets, a handsomechurch, and a good trade. " The good trade was, however, disappearing, owing to the discovery of tin in foreign countries, notably in theStraits Settlements and Bolivia; the church which Defoe saw haddisappeared, having since been destroyed by fire and rebuilt in 1763. Wedid not go inside, but in walking through the churchyard we casuallycame upon an ordinary headstone on which was an inscription to theeffect that the stone marked the resting-place of Henry Trengrouse(1772-1854), who, being "profoundly impressed by the great loss of lifeby shipwreck, had devoted the greater portion of his life and means tothe invention and design of the rocket apparatus for connecting strandedships to the shore, whereby many thousands of lives have been saved. "

[Illustration: MONUMENT TO HENRY TRENGROUSE. (_Inventor of the rocketapparatus. _)]

We had seen many fine monuments to men who had been instrumental inkilling thousands of their fellow creatures, but here was Trengrouse whohad been the humble instrument in saving thousands of lives, and (thougha suitable monument has since been erected to his memory) only thecommonest stone as yet recorded his memory and the inestimable serviceshe had rendered to humanity: the only redeeming feature, perhaps, beingthe very appropriate quotation on the stone:

 They rest from their labours and their works do follow them. 

Helston was another town where a lovely double stream of water ran downthe main street, rendering the town by its rapid and perpetual runningboth musical and clean. The water probably came from the River Cober, and afterwards found its way into the Looe Pool at the foot of the town. This pool was the great attraction of Helston and district, as it formeda beautiful fresh-water lake about seven miles in circumference and twomiles long, winding like a river through a forked valley, with woodsthat in the springtime were filled with lovely wild flowers, reaching tothe water's edge. It must have been a paradise for one fisherman at anyrate, as he held his tenure on condition that he provided a boat and netin case the Duke of Cornwall, its owner, should ever come to fish there;so we concluded that if the Duke never came, the tenant would have allthe fish at his own disposal. The curious feature about the lake wasthat, owing to a great bank of sand and pebbles that reached across themouth, it had no visible outlet where it reached the sea, the waterhaving to percolate as best it could through the barrier. When heavyrain came on and the River Cober delivered a greater volume of waterthan usual into the lake, the land adjoining was flooded, and it becamenecessary to ask permission of the lord of the manor to cut a breachthrough the pebbles in order to allow the surplus water to pass throughinto the sea, which was quite near. The charge for this privilege wasone penny and one halfpenny, which had to be presented in a leatherpurse; but this ancient ceremony was afterwards done away with and aculvert constructed. On this pebble bank one of the King's frigates waslost in 1807. 

[Illustration: A STREET IN HELSTON. (_Showing the running stream ofwater at the side of the street. _)]

There is a passage in the book of Genesis which states that "there weregiants in the earth in those days"--a passage which we had often heardread in the days of our youth, when we wished it had gone further andtold us something about them; but Cornwall had been a veritable land ofgiants. The stories of Jack the Giant-Killer were said to have emanatedfrom this county, and we now heard of the Giant Tregeagle, whose spiritappeared to pervade the whole district through which we were passing. 

He was supposed to be the Giant of Dosmary Pool, on the Bodmin Downs, which was believed at one time to be a bottomless pit. When the windhowls there the people say it is the Giant roaring, and "to roar likeTregeagle" was quite a common saying in those parts. "His spirit hauntsall the west of Cornwall, and he haunts equally the moor, the rockycoasts, and the blown sandhills; from north to south, from east to west, this doomed spirit was heard of, and to the Day of Judgment he wasdoomed to wander pursued by avenging fiends. Who has not heard thehowling of Tregeagle? When the storms come with all their strength fromthe Atlantic, and hurl themselves upon the rocks about the Land's End, the howls of this spirit are louder than the roaring of the wind. "

In this land of legends, therefore, it is not surprising that theraising of that extraordinary bank which blocks the end of the RiverCober, at what should be its outlet into the sea, should be ascribed toTregeagle. It appeared that he was an extremely wicked steward, who byrobbery and other worse crimes became very wealthy. In the first placehe was said to have murdered his sister, and to have been so cruel tohis wife and children that one by one they perished. But at length hisend came, and as he lay on his death-bed the thoughts of the people hehad murdered, starved, and plundered, and his remorseful conscience, sohaunted him, that he sent for the monks from a neighbouring monasteryand offered them all his wealth if they would save his soul from thefiends. They accepted his offer, and both then and after he had beenburied in St. Breock's Church they sang chants and recited prayersperpetually over his grave, by which means they kept back the demonsfrom his departing soul. But a dispute arose between two wealthyfamilies concerning the ownership of some land near Bodmin. It appearedthat Tregeagle, as steward to one of the claimants, had destroyedancient deeds, forged others, and made it appear that the property washis own. The defendant in the trial by some means or other succeeded inbreaking the bonds of death, and the spirit of Tregeagle was summoned toattend the court as witness. 

When his ghostly form appeared, the court was filled with horror. Inanswer to counsel's questions he had to acknowledge his frauds, and thejury returned a verdict for the defendants. The judge then orderedcounsel to remove his witness, but, alas! it was easier to raise evilspirits than to lay them, and they could not get rid of Tregeagle. Themonks were then sent for, and said that by long trials he might repentand his sins be expiated in that way. They would not or could not handhim over to the fiends, but they would give him tasks to do that wouldbe endless. First of all they gave him the task of emptying DosmaryPool, supposed to be bottomless, with a small perforated limpet shell. Here, however, he narrowly escaped falling into the hands of the demons, and only saved himself by running and dashing his head through thewindow of Roach Rock Church. His terrible cries drove away thecongregation, and the monks and priests met together to decide whatcould be done with him, as no service could be held in the church. 

[Illustration: KYNANCE COVE AND THE LION ROCK. "The fine rock scenery onthe coast continues all the way to Land's End, while isolated rocks inmany forms and smugglers' caves of all sizes are to be seen. "]

[Illustration: NEAR THE LIZARD. "The Lizard Point with the neighbouringrocks, both when submerged and otherwise, formed a most dangerous placefor mariners, especially when false lights were displayed by thoserobbers and murderers, the Cornish Wreckers. "]

They decided that Tregeagle, accompanied by two saints to guard him, should be taken to the coast at Padstow, and compelled to stay on thesandy shore making trusses of sand and ropes of sand to bind them, whilethe mighty sea rose continually and washed them away. The people atPadstow could get no rest day or night on account of his awful cries offear and despair, and they sought the aid of the great Cornish SaintPetrox. The saint subdued Tregeagle, and chained him with bonds, every link of which he welded with a prayer. St. Petrox placed him atBareppa, and condemned him to carry sacks of sand across the estuary ofSt. Looe and empty them at Porthleven until the beach was clean to therocks. He laboured a long time at that work, but in vain, for the tideround Treawavas Head always carried the sand back again. His cries andwails disturbed the families of the fishermen, but a mischievous demoncame along, and, seeing him carrying an enormous sack full of sand andpebbles, tripped him up. Tregeagle fell, and the sack upset and formedthe bar that ruined the harbour of Helston, which up to that time hadbeen a prosperous port, the merchant vessels landing cargoes and takingback tin in exchange. The townspeople, naturally very wroth, sought theaid of the priests, and once more bonds were placed upon Tregeagle. Thistime he was sent to the Land's End, where he would find very few peopleto hear his awful cries. There his task was to sweep the sands fromPorthcurnow Cove, round the headland called Tol-Peden-Penwith, intoNanjisal Cove. At this task, it is said, Tregeagle is still labouring, his wails and moans being still borne on the breeze that sweeps over theLand's End; so as this was our destination, we had rather a queerprospect before us!

Between Gweek and Helston we crossed the famous promontory known as theLizard, which in length and breadth extends about nine miles in eachdirection, although the point itself is only two miles broad. The rocksat this extremity rise about 250 feet above the stormy sea below, andare surmounted by a modern lighthouse. 

Originally there was only a beacon light with a coal fire fanned withbellows, but oil was afterwards substituted. The Lizard Point in thosedays, with the neighbouring rocks, both when submerged and otherwise, formed a most dangerous place for mariners, especially when false lightswere displayed by those robbers and murderers, the Cornish wreckers. 

The Lizard, the Corinum of the ancients, is the most southerly point inEngland, and the fine rock scenery on the coast continues from there allthe way to the Land's End, while isolated rocks in many forms andsmugglers' caves of all sizes are to be seen. Weird legends connectedwith these and the Cornish coast generally had been handed down fromfather to son from remote antiquity, and the wild and lonely GoonhillyDowns, that formed the centre of the promontory, as dreary a spot ascould well be imagined, had a legend of a phantom ship that glided overthem in the dusk or moonlight, and woe betide the mariners who happenedto see it, for it was a certain omen of evil!

The finest sight that we saw here was in broad daylight, and consistedof an immense number of sailing-ships, more in number than we couldcount, congregated together on one side of the Lizard. On inquiring thereason, we were told that they were wind-bound vessels waiting for achange in the wind to enable them to round the point, and that they hadbeen known to wait there a fortnight when unfavourable winds prevailed. This we considered one of the most wonderful sights we had seen on ourjourney. 

As we left Helston on our way to Penzance we had the agreeable companyas far as St. Breage of a young Cornishman, who told us we ought tohave come to Helston in May instead of November, for then we should haveseen the town at its best, especially if we had come on the "Flurry"day. This he said was the name of their local yearly festival, held onor near May 8th, and he gave us quite a full account of what generallyhappened on that occasion. We could easily understand, from what he toldus, that he had enjoyed himself immensely on the day of the lastfestival, which seemed to be quite fresh in his mind, although now morethan six months had passed since it happened. In fact he made us wishthat we had been there ourselves, as his story awoke some memories inour minds of--

 The days we went a-gipsying a long time ago When lads and lasses in their best were dressed from top to toe, When hearts were light and faces bright, nor thought of care or woe, In the days we went a-gipsying a long time ago!

[Illustration: THE "FLURRY" DANCE. ]

His description of the brass band of which he was a member, and the waythey were dressed, and the adventures they met with during the day, fromearly morning till late at night, was both interesting and amusing. Their first duty was to play round the town to waken people who werealready awake--sleep was out of the question--children too had a sharein the proceedings. They knew that booths or standings would be erectedall over the town, some even on the footpath, displaying all manner ofcakes, toffy, and nuts that would delight their eyes and sweeten theirmouths, if they had the money wherewith to buy, and if not, there wasthe chance of persuading some stranger to come to the rescue! But firstof all they must rush to the woods and fields in search of flowers andbranches, for the town had to be decorated before the more imposing partof the ceremonies began. Meantime the bandsmen were busy devouring agood breakfast, for bandsmen's appetites are proverbial. Perhaps theyare the only class of men who play while they work and work while theyplay. In any case, after breakfast they sauntered round the town talkingto the girls until the auspicious hour arrived when they had to assemblein the market square to head the procession of the notables of the towndressed in all kinds of costumes, from that of William the Conqueroronwards. My brother was anxious to know what quickstep they played, andif it was "Havelock's Quick March"; but our friend said it was not aquickstep at all, but something more like a hornpipe. Was it the Collegeor the Sailor's Hornpipe? It was neither, was the reply, as it had to beplayed slowly, for the people danced to it while they marched in theprocession, and occasionally twirled their partners round; and thenafter some further ceremonies they separated and all the people began todance both in the streets and through the houses, going in at one doorand out at another, if there was one, tumbling about and knocking thingsover, and then out in the street again, and if not satisfied with theirpartners, changing them, and off again, this kind of enjoyment lastingfor hours. Sometimes, if a man-of-war happened to be in theneighbourhood, the sailors came, who were the best dancers of the lot, as they danced with each other and threw their legs about in a mostastonishing fashion, a practice they were accustomed to when aboardship. 

There were also shows and sometimes a circus, and the crowds that camefrom the country were astonishing. Now and then there was a bit of arow, when some of them had "a drop o' drink, " but the police were about, and not afraid to stop their games by making free use of their staves;this, however, was the shady side of the great "Flurry" day. 

Meantime every one had learned the strange dance-tune by heart, whichour friend whistled for us, whereby we could tell it had come down fromremote times. Indeed, it was said that these rejoicings were originallyin memory of the victory of the great Michael over the Devil, and no onethought of suggesting a more modern theory than that the "Flurry" was asurvival of the Floralia observed by the Romans on the fourth of theCalends of May in honour of Flora, the Goddess of Flowers. 

The very mention of the names of band and hornpipe was too much for mybrother, who could not resist giving the Cornishman a few samples of thesingle and double shuffle in the College Hornpipe, and one or twomovements from a Scotch Reel, but as I was no dancer myself, I had nomeans of judging the quality of his performances. I kept a respectfuldistance away, as sometimes his movements were very erratic, and hisboots, like those of the Emperor Frederick, were rather heavy. We couldnot persuade our friend to come with us a yard farther than the village. As a fellow bandsman, he confided the reason why to my brother; he hadseen a nice young lady at the "Flurry" who came from that village, andhe was going to see her now. He was standing in the street on the"Flurry" day when the lady came along, and stopped to look at thebandsmen, who were then at liberty, and he said to her jocularly, "Takemy arm, love--I'm in the band, " and, "By Jove, " he said, "if she didn'tcome and take it, " to his great astonishment and delight. Apparently hisheart went at the same time, and we surmised that everything else wouldshortly follow. After bidding him good-bye, we looked round the church, and then my brother began to walk at an appalling speed, whichfortunately he could not keep up, and which I attributed in some way tothe effect of the bandsman's story, though he explained that we must tryto reach Penzance before dark. 

The church of St. Breage was dedicated to a saint named Breaca, sisterof St. Enny, who lived in the sixth century and came from Ireland. Therewas a holed sandstone cross in the churchyard, which tradition assertedwas made out of granite sand and then hardened with human blood! Thetower was said to contain the largest bell in Cornwall, it having beenmade in the time of a vicar who, not liking the peals, had all the otherbells melted down to make one large one. The men of St. Breage and thoseof the next village, St. Germoe, had an evil reputation as wreckers orsmugglers, for one old saying ran:

 God keep us from rocks and shelving sands, And save us from Breage and Germoe men's hands. 

Opposite Breage, on the sea-coast, was a place named Porthleven, where aWesleyan chapel, with a very handsome front, had been built. No doubtthere are others in the country built in a similar way, for to it andthem the following lines might well apply:

 They built the church, upon my word, As fine as any abbey; And then they thought to cheat the Lord, And built the back part shabby. 

After a walk of about two miles we arrived at the village of St. Germoe. The saint of that name was said to have been an Irish bard of royalrace, and the font in the church, from its plain and rough form, wasconsidered to be one of the most ancient in the county. In thechurchyard was a curious structure which was mentioned by Leland as a"chair, " and was locally known as St. Germoe's Chair, but why it shouldbe in the churchyard was a mystery, unless it had been intended to markthe spot where the saint had been buried. It was in the form of asedilium, the seat occupied by the officiating priest near the altar inthe chancel of a church, being about six feet high and formed of threesedilia, with two pillars supporting three arches, which in turnsupported the roof; in general form it was like a portion of the row ofseats in a Roman amphitheatre. 

On the opposite coast, which was only about a mile away, was the famousPrussia Cove, named after a notorious smuggler who bore the nickname ofthe King of Prussia; and adjoining his caves might still be seen thechannels he had cut in the solid rock to enable his boats to get closeto the shore. His real name was Carter. He became the leader of theCornish smugglers, and kept the "Old King of Prussia Inn, " though havingthe reputation of being a "devout Methodist. " He was said to be sonamed because he bore some resemblance to Frederick the Great, the Kingof Prussia. We had seen other inns in the south of the same name, butwhether they were named after the king or the smuggler we could not say. He seemed to have had other caves on the Cornish coast where he storedhis stolen treasures, amongst which were some old cannon. 

One moonlight night, when he was anxiously waiting and watching for thereturn of his boats, he saw them in the distance being rapidly pursuedby His Majesty's Revenue cutter the _Fairy_. The smuggler placed hiscannon on the top of the cliff and gave orders to his men to fire on the_Fairy_, which, as the guns on board could not be elevated sufficientlyto reach the top of the cliff, was unable to reply. Thus the boatsescaped; but early the following morning the Revenue boat againappeared, and the officer and some of the crew came straight to Carter'shouse, where they met the smuggler. He loudly complained to the officerthat his crew should come there practising the cutter's guns at midnightand disturbing the neighbourhood. Carter of course could give noinformation about the firing of any other guns, and suggested it mightbe the echo of those fired from the _Fairy_ herself, nor could any otherexplanation be obtained in the neighbourhood where Carter was wellknown, so the matter was allowed to drop. But the old smuggler was moresharply looked after in future, and though he lived to a great age, hedied in poverty. 

Our road crossed the Perran Downs, where, to the left, stood the smallvillage of Perranuthnoe, a place said to have existed before the time ofSt. Piran and named Lanudno in the taxation of Pope Nicholas. It wasalso pointed out as the place where Trevelyan's horse landed him when heescaped the inrush of the sea which destroyed Lyonesse, "that sweet landof Lyonesse, " which was inseparably connected with the name of KingArthur, who flourished long before the age of written records. Lyonessewas the name of the district which formerly existed between the Land'sEnd and the Scilly Islands, quite twenty-five miles away. When the wavesfrom the Atlantic broke through, Trevelyan happened to be riding on awhite horse of great swiftness. On seeing the waters rushing forward tooverwhelm the country, he rode for his life and was saved by the speedof his horse. He never stopped until he reached Perranuthnoe, where therocks stopped the sea's farther progress. But when he looked back, hecould see nothing but a wide expanse of water covering no less than 140parish churches. He lived afterwards in the cave in the rocks which hasever since borne the name of Trevelyan's Cave. It was beyond doubt thatsome great convulsion of nature had occurred to account for thesubmerged forests, of which traces were still known to exist. 

Soon afterwards we reached a considerable village bearing the strangename of Marazion, a place evidently once of some importance and at onetime connected with the Jews, for there were the Jews' Market and somesmelting-places known as the Jews' Houses. Here we came to the smallrock surmounted by a castle which we had seen in front of our track forsome miles without knowing what it was. Now we discovered it to be thefar-famed St. Michael's Mount. According to legend this once stood in avast forest of the mysterious Lyonesse, where wild beasts roamed, andwhere King Arthur fought one of his many battles with a giant at the"Guarded Mount, " as Milton has so aptly named it. 

As we were told that the Mount was only about half a mile away, wedecided to visit it, and walked as quickly as we could along therough-paved road leading up to it. On the Mount we could see the lightsbeing lit one by one as we approached, and, in spite of the arrival ofthe first quarter of the moon, it was now becoming dark, so we discussedthe advisability of staying at St. Michael's for the night; but wesuddenly came to a point on our road where the water from the sea wasrushing over it, and realised that St. Michael's Mount was an island. Wecould see where the road reappeared a little farther on, and Icalculated that if we made a dash for it the water would not reach aboveour knees, but it was quite evident that we had now come to a dead stop. The rock by this time looked much higher, spreading its shadow over thewater beneath, and the rather serious question arose as to how or whenwe should be able to get back again, for we had to reach Land's End onthe next day. Finally we decided to retrace our steps to Marazion, wherewe learned that the road to the Mount was only available underfavourable conditions for about eight hours out of the twenty-four, andas our rules would have prevented our returning by boat, we were glad wehad not proceeded farther. 

[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT. ]

According to the _Saxon Chronicle_, the inroad from the sea whichseparated St. Michael's from the mainland occurred in 1099. The Mounthad a sacred character, for St. Michael himself was said to haveappeared to a holy man who once resided there, and St. Keyne also hadmade a pilgrimage to the Mount in the year 490. 

The rock rises about 230 feet above sea-level, and is about a mile incircumference, but the old monastery had been made into a privateresidence. At an angle in one of the towers, now called St. Michael'sChair, in which one person only could sit at a time, and that notwithout danger, as the chair projected over a precipice, was a stonelantern in which the monks formerly kept a light to guide seamen. Thelegend connected with this was that if a married woman sits in the chairbefore her husband has done so, she will rule over him, but if he sitsdown on it first, he will be the master. We thought this legend musthave resulted from the visit of St. Keyne, as it corresponded with thatattached to her well near Liskeard which we have already recorded. 

Perkin Warbeck, about whom we had heard at Exeter, and who in 1497appeared in England with 7, 000 men to claim the English throne, occupiedthe castle on St. Michael's Mount for a short time with his beautifulwife, the "White Rose of Scotland, " whom he left here for safety whilehe went forward to London to claim the crown. He was said to be a Jew, or, to be correct, the son of a Tournai Jew, which possibly might insome way or other account for the Jewish settlement at Marazion. Hisarmy, however, was defeated, and he was hanged at Tyburn, November 23rd, 1499, while his wife was afterwards removed to the Court of Henry VII, where she received every consideration and was kindly treated. 

We soon covered the three miles which separated us from Penzance, wherewe went to the best hotel in the town, arriving just in time for dinner. There was only one other visitor there, a gentleman who informed us hehad come from Liverpool, where he was in the timber trade, and wasstaying at Penzance for a few days. He asked what business we were in, and when we told him we had practically retired from business in 1868, and that that was the reason why we were able to spare nine weeks towalk from John o' Groat's to Land's End, he seemed considerablysurprised. We did not think then that in a few years' time we should, owing to unexpected events, find ourselves in the same kind of businessas his, and meet that same gentleman on future occasions!

We shall always remember that night at Penzance! The gentleman sat atthe head of the table at dinner while we sat one on each side of him. But though he occupied the head position, we were head and shouldersabove him in our gastronomical achievements--so much so that although hehad been surprised at our long walk, he told us afterwards that he was"absolutely astounded" at our enormous appetites. 

He took a great interest in our description of the route we hadfollowed. Some of the places we had visited he knew quite well, and wesat up talking about the sights we had seen until it was pastclosing-time. When we rose to retire, he said he should esteem it anhonour if we would allow him to accompany us to the Land's End on thefollowing day to see us "in at the finish. " He said he knew intimatelythe whole of the coast between Penzance and the Land's End, and couldno doubt show us objects of interest that we might otherwise missseeing. We assured him that we should esteem the honour to be ours, andshould be glad to accept his kind offer, informing him that we intendedwalking along the coast to the end and then engaging a conveyance tobring us back again. He thought that a good idea, but as we might havesome difficulty in getting a suitable conveyance at that end of ourjourney, he strongly advised our hiring one at Penzance, and offered, ifwe would allow him, to engage for us in the morning a trap he had hiredthe day before, though we must not expect anything very grand in theseout-of-the-way parts of the country. We thankfully accepted his kindoffer, and this item in the programme being settled, we consideredourselves friends, and parted accordingly for the night, pleasantlyconscious that even if we did not walk at all on the morrow, we hadsecured our average of twenty-five miles daily over the whole of ourjourney. 

(_Distance walked thirty-four and a half miles_. )

_Saturday, November 18th. _

We had ordered breakfast much later than usual to suit the convenienceof our friend, but we were out in the town at our usual early hour, andwere quite astonished at the trees and plants we saw growing in thegrounds and gardens there, some of which could only be grown under glassfarther north. Here they were growing luxuriantly in the open air, somehaving the appearance of the palm-trees we had seen pictured in books. We had been favoured with fairly fine weather for some time, andalthough we had passed through many showers, we had not encounteredanything in the nature of continuous rain, although Cornwall isnaturally a humid county, and is said to have a shower of rain for everyday in the week and two for Sunday. We kept near the edge of the sea, and the view of the bay, with St. Michael's Mount on one side and theLizards on the other, was very fine; but the Mount had assumed quite adifferent appearance since yesterday, for now it appeared completelyisolated, the connection with the mainland not being visible. We weresure that both St. Michael's Mount and Penzance must have had aneventful history, but the chief event in the minds of the people seemedto have been the visit of the Spaniards when they burnt the town in1595. The Cornishmen made very little resistance on that occasion, owingto the existence of an old prophecy foretelling the destruction ofPenzance by fire when the enemy landed on the rock of Merlin, the placewhere the Spaniards actually did land. Probably it was impossible todefend the town against an enemy attacking Penzance from that point, asit was only about a mile distant. 

We returned to our hotel at the time arranged for breakfast, which wasquite ready, the table being laid for three; but where was our friend?We learned that he had gone out into the town, but we had got half-waythrough our breakfast, all the while wondering where he could be, whenthe door opened suddenly and in he came, with his face beaming like therising sun, although we noticed he glanced rather anxiously in thedirection of the remaining breakfast. He apologised for being late, buthe had not been able to obtain the conveyance he mentioned to us lastnight, as it was engaged elsewhere. He had, however, found another whichhe thought might suit our purpose, and had arranged for it to be at thehotel in half an hour's time. He also brought the pleasing intelligencethat we might expect a fine day. The trap duly arrived in charge of theowner, who was to act as driver; but some difficulty arose, as he hadnot quite understood the order. He thought he had simply to drive us tothe Land's End and back, and had contemplated being home again early, soour friend had to make another financial arrangement before he wouldaccept the order. This was soon negotiated, but it was very difficult toarrange further details. Here our friend's intimate knowledge of thecountry came in useful. There was no direct driving road along thecoast, so it was arranged that our driver should accompany us where hecould, and then when his road diverged he should meet us at certainpoints to be explained by our friend later in the day. Mutual distrust, we supposed, prevented us from paying him in advance, and possiblycreated a suspicion in the driver's mind that there was something wrongsomewhere, and he evidently thought what fools we were to walk all theway along the coast to Land's End when we might have ridden in his trap. We journeyed together for the first mile or two, and then he had toleave us for a time while we trudged along with only our sticks tocarry, for, to make matters equal in that respect, our friend hadborrowed one at the hotel, a much finer-looking one than ours, of whichhe was correspondingly proud. 

[Illustration: PENZANCE]

[Illustration: DOROTHY PENTREATH'S STONE, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH. ]

He insisted upon our seeing everything there was to be seen, and it soonbecame evident that what our companion did not know about the fine rockscenery on this part of the coast of Cornwall was not worth knowing, sothat we were delighted to have him with us. The distance from Penzanceto Land's End was not great, but by the route selected it occupied thewhole of the day, including many stoppages, and we had a glorious walk. The weather had been rather squally yesterday, and there was a steadybreeze still blowing. We enjoyed seeing the breakers dash themselvesinto foam against the rocks and thunder inside the fissures and cavernsbelow. Occasionally we got a glimpse of the red tinge given to thesmoother waters of the sea by the shoals of pilchards passing along thecoast, so that in the same journey we had seen the water reddened withherrings in the extreme north and with pilchards in the extreme south ofBritain. 

At Newlyn we were delighted with the quaint, crooked little passageswhich did duty for streets, and we were informed that the place wasnoted for artists and fish--a rather strange combination. We learnedthat when first the pilchards arrived at Land's End, they divided intotwo immense shoals, one going in the direction of Mounts Bay and theother towards St. Ives Bay, the record catch in a single haul at thatplace being 245 millions! There was a saying at Newlyn that it wasunlucky to eat a pilchard from the head, as it should be eaten from itstail; but why, it was difficult to define, unless it was owing to thefact that it was the tail that guided the head of the fish towards thecoasts of Cornwall. 

We also passed through a village named Paul, which had been modernisedinto St. Paul. Its church had a rather lofty tower, which stood on thehill like a sentinel looking over Mounts Bay. This place was also burntby the Spaniards in 1595. It appeared that George Borrow had visited iton January 15th, 1854, as he passed through on his way to Land's End, for the following entry appeared in his Diary for that day: "Went to St. Paul's Church. Saw an ancient tomb with the inscription in Cornish atnorth end. Sat in a pew under a black suit of armour belonging to theGodolphin family, with two swords. " We copied this Cornish epitaph asunder:

 _Bonnas heb duelth Eu poes Karens wei tha pobl Bohodzhak Paull han Egles nei_. 

which translated means:

 Eternal life be his whose loving care Gave Paul an almshouse, and the church repair. 

There was also an epitaph in the churchyard over the grave of an oldlady who died at the age of 102, worded:

 Here lyeth interred Dorothy Pentreath, who died in 1778, said to have been the last person who conversed in the ancient Cornish, the peculiar language of this county from the earliest records, till it expired in the eighteenth century in this Parish of St. Paul. This stone is erected by the Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte, in union with the Rev. John Garrett, Vicar of St. Paul 1860. 

Under the guidance of our friend, who of course acted as leader, we nowpassed on to the famous place known as Mousehole, a picturesque villagein a shady hollow, with St. Clement's Island a little way out to sea infront. This place, now named Mousehole, was formerly Porth Enys, or theIsland Port, and a quay was built here as early as the year 1392. We sawthe cavern, rather a large one, and near it the fantastic rocksassociated with Merlin the "Prince of Enchanters, " some of whoseprophecies applied to Cornwall. At Mousehole there was a large rocknamed Merlin's Stone, where the only Spaniards that ever devastated theshores of England landed in 1595. Merlin's prophecy in the Cornishlanguage reads:

 _Aga syth lyer war and meyne Merlyn Ava neb syth Leskey Paul, Penzance hag Newlyn_. 

which means, translated:

 There shall land on the stone of Merlyn Those who shall burn Paul, Penzance, and Newlyn. 

Jenkin Keigwin. There was a

[Illustration: THE CAVERN, MOUSEHOLE. ]

They also burnt Mousehole, with the exception of one public-house, ahouse still standing, with walls four feet thick, and known as the"Keigwin Arms" of which they killed the landlord, rock here known asthe "Mermaid, " which stood out in the sea, and from which songs byfemale voices were said to have allured young men to swim to the rock, never to be heard of again. 

We next came to the Lamora Cove, where we walked up the charming littlevalley, at the top of which we reached the plain of Bolleit, whereAthelstan defeated the Britons in their last desperate struggle forfreedom. The battle lasted from morning until night, when, overpoweredby numbers, the Cornish survivors fled to the hills. After this battlein the light of the setting sun, Athelstan is said to have seen theScilly Islands and decided to try to conquer them, and, if successful, to build a church and dedicate it to St. Buryana. He carried out hisvow, and founded and endowed a college for Augustine Canons to havejurisdiction over the parishes of Buryan, Levan, and Sennen, throughwhich we now journeyed; but the Scilly Islands appeared to us to bescarcely worth conquering, as, although they comprised 145 islets, manyof them were only small bare rocks, the largest island, St. Mary, beingonly three miles long by two and a half broad, and the highest pointonly 204 feet above sea-level; but perhaps the refrangible rays of thesetting sun so magnified them that Athelstan believed a considerableconquest was before him. 

We next went to see the "Merry Maidens" and the "Pipers. " They were onlypillars of stone, but our friend assured us they were lively enough onceupon a time, and represented seven young but thoughtless ladies wholived in that neighbourhood. They were on their way to Buryan church oneSabbath day when they saw two pipers playing music in a field, who asthey went near them began to play dance tunes. The maidens forgot thesacred character of the day, and, yielding to temptation, began todance. By and by the music became extremely wild and the dancingproportionately furious. The day was beautifully fine and the sun shonethrough a clear blue sky, but the pipers were two evil spirits, andsuddenly a flash of lightning came from the cloudless sky and turnedthem all, tempters and tempted, into stone, so there they stand, thegirls in a circle and the pipers a little distance away, until the Dayof Judgment. 

By this time we were all getting hungry, as the clear air of Cornwall isconducive to good appetites; but our friend had thoughtfully arrangedfor this already, and we found when we entered the inn at Buryan thatour conveyance had arrived there, and that the driver had alreadyregaled himself, and told the mistress that she might expect three othervisitors. 

The old church of St. Buryan was said to be named after Buriena, thebeautiful daughter of a Munster chieftain, supposed to be the Bruinsechof the Donegal martyrology, who came to Cornwall in the days of St. Piran. There were two ancient crosses at Buryan, one in the village andthe other in the churchyard, while in the church was thethirteenth-century, coffin-shaped tomb of "Clarice La Femme Cheffroi DeBolleit, " bearing an offer of ten days' pardon to whoever should prayfor her soul. But just then we were more interested in worldly matters;and when, after we had refreshed ourselves in a fairly substantial way, our friend told us he would take us to see a "Giant's Castle, " we wenton our way rejoicing, to regain the sea-coast where the castle was tobe seen, but not before the driver had made another frantic effort toinduce us to ride in his trap. 

[Illustration: THE "KEIGWIN ARMS, " MOUSEHOLE. "They (the Spaniards) alsoburnt Mousehole, with the exception of one public house, a house stillstanding, with walls four feet thick and known as the 'Keigwin Arms. '"]

The castle of Treryn, which our friend pronounced Treen, was situated ona small headland jutting out into the sea, but only the triple vallumand fosse of the castle remained. The walls had been built of hugeboulders, and had once formed the cyclopian castle of Treryn. Cyclops, our friend explained, was one of a number of giants who had each onlyone eye, and that in the centre of the forehead. Their business was toforge the iron for Vulcan, the god of fire. They could see to work inmines or dark places, for their one eye was as big as a moon. Sometimesthey were workers in stone, who erected their buildings chiefly inEurope and Asia, and their huge blocks of stone were worked so nicelythat they fitted together without mortar. Treryn Castle was thestronghold of a giant who was stronger than most of the other giants wholived in those parts, and was, in addition, a necromancer or sorcerer, in communication with the spirits of the dead, by whose aid he raisedthis castle by enchantment from the depths of the sea. It was thereforean enchanted castle, and was kept in its position by a spell, a magickey, which the giant placed in a hole in a rock on the seacoast, stillnamed the Giant's Lock. Whenever this key, which was a large roundstone, could be taken out of the lock, the castle and the promontory onwhich it stood would disappear beneath the sea to the place from whenceit came. Very few people had seen the key, because its hiding-place wasin such a very dangerous position that scarcely any one was courageousenough to venture to the lock that held it. To reach the lock it wasnecessary to wait for a low tide, and then to walk along a ledge in theside of the rock scarcely wide enough for the passage of a small animal, where in the event of a false step the wanderer would be certain to bedashed to pieces on the rocks below. At the end of this dangerous paththere was a sharp projecting rock in which was a hole wide enough for aman's hand and arm to pass down, and at the bottom of the hole he couldfeel a rather large but smooth stone in the shape of an egg, which hecould easily move in any direction. Then all he had to do further was todraw it out through the hole; but the difficulty was that the stone waslarger than the aperture, and the mystery was who placed it there. 

[Illustration: ROCKS NEAR LAND'S END. ]

The dangerous nature of the approach, in addition to the difficulty ofgetting back again, was quite sufficient to deter any of us from makingthe attempt; even if we gained possession of the magic key we might havebeen taken, with it and the castle and promontory, to the enchantedregions below, so we decided to refrain, for after all there was thedesirability of reaching home again!

It was a very wild place, and the great rocks and boulders were stronglysuggestive of giants; but our friend would not have us linger, as wemust go to see the famous Logan Rock. In order to save time and risk, hesuggested that we should secure the services of a professional guide. Wecould see neither guides nor houses, and it looked like a forlorn hopeto try to find either, but, asking us to stay where we were until hecame back, our friend disappeared; and some time afterwards hereappeared from some unknown place, accompanied by an intelligentsailorlike man whom he introduced to us as the guide. The guide led usby intricate ways over stone walls, stepped on either side withprojecting stones to do duty as stiles, and once or twice we walkedalong the top of the walls themselves, where they were broad enough tosupport a footpath. Finally we crossed what appeared to be a boundaryfence, and immediately afterwards found ourselves amongst a wildernessof stones and gigantic boulders, with the roar of the waves as they beaton the rocks below to keep us company. 

It was a circuitous and intricate course by which our guide conductedus, up and down hill, and one not altogether free from danger, and wehad many minor objects to see before reaching the Logan Rock, which wasthe last of all. Every precaution was taken to prevent any accident atdangerous places on our way. Amongst other objects our guide pointed tothe distant views of the Lizard Point, the Wolf Rock Lighthouse, and theRunnel Stone Bell Buoy, and immediately below us was the Porthcurnow Bayand beach. Then there were some queerly shaped rocks named the CastlePeak, the "Tortoise, " the "Pig's Mouth, " all more or less like theobjects they represented, and, as a matter of course, the giants werealso there. Our guide insisted upon our sitting in the Giant's Chair, where King Arthur, he said, had sat before us. It was no easy matter toclimb into the chair, and we had to be assisted by sundry pushes frombelow; but once in it we felt like monarchs of all we surveyed, and theview from that point was lovely. Near by was the Giant's Bowl, andfinally the Giant's Grave, an oblong piece of land between the rocks, which my brother measured in six long strides as being eighteen feet inlength. The Logan or Swinging Stone was estimated to weigh about eightytons, and although it was quite still when we reached it, we were easilyable to set it moving. It was a block of granite, and continued tooscillate for some little time, but formerly it was said that it couldnot be moved from its axis by force. This led to a foolish bet beingmade by Lieutenant Goldsmith of the Royal Navy, who landed with hisboat's crew on April 8th, 1824, and with the united exertions of ninemen with handspikes, and excessive vibration, managed to slide the greatstone from its equilibrium. This so roused the anger of the Cornishpeople that the Admiralty were obliged to make Mr. Goldsmith--who, bythe way, was a nephew of Oliver Goldsmith, the author of the _Vicar ofWakefield_--replace the stone in its former position, which, owing toits immense weight and almost inaccessible situation, was a mostdifficult and costly thing to do. Mr. Davies Gilbert persuaded the Lordsof the Admiralty to lend the necessary apparatus from Pymouth Dockyard, and was said to have paid some portion of the cost; but after theassistance of friends, and two collections throughout the Royal Navy, Goldsmith had to pay quite £600 personally, and came out of thetransaction a sadder, wiser, and poorer man. 

Like other stones of an unusual character, the Logan Rock was thought tohave some medicinal properties, and parents formerly brought theirchildren to be rocked on the stone to cure their diseases; but the charmwas said to have been broken by the removal of the stone, which did notafterwards oscillate as freely as before. It was reinstated in itsformer position on November 2nd, 1824. We also saw the Ladies' LoganRock, weighing nine tons, which could easily be moved. In a ratherdangerous portion of the rocks we came to a "wishing passage, " throughwhich it was necessary to walk backwards to obtain the fulfilment of awish--doubtless in the case of nervous people that they might get awayfrom the rocks again in safety. 

The rocks hereabouts are very vividly coloured at certain times of theyear, and in the spring are covered with lichens and turf, with blossomsof the blue scilla. 

[Illustration: THE LOGAN ROCK. ]

Porthcurnow, which runs a short distance into the rocky coast, is one ofCornwall's most picturesque little bays. Round the foot of the rocks wesaw what appeared to be a fringe of white sand, which at first sight wethought must have been left there by the Giant Tregeagle, as it was partof his task to sweep the sands from Porthcurnow Cove; but we ascertainedthat what we thought was white sand was in reality a mass of extremelysmall shells. The surface of the rocks above abounded with golden furze, which in summer, mingled with purple heather, formed a fine contrast. Inthe background was a small and dismal-looking valley known locally asthe "Bottoms, " which was often obscured by mists rising from themarshes below, and which few people cared to cross after nightfall. Itwas near the "Bottoms" that a mysterious stranger took up his abode manyyears ago. He was accompanied by an evil-looking foreign man-servant, who never spoke to any one except his master--probably because he wasunable to speak English. No one knew where these strange people had comefrom, but they kept a boat in the cove, in which they used to start offto sea early in the morning and disappear in the distance, neverreturning until dead of night. Sometimes when the weather was stormythey remained out all night. Occasionally, but only on stormy and darknights, they stayed on shore, and then they went hunting on the moors, whence the cry of their hounds was often heard in the midnight hours. 

[Illustration: ROCKY COAST NEAR LAND'S END. ]

At length the mysterious stranger died and was buried, the coffin beingcarried to the grave followed by the servant and the dogs. As soon asthe grave was filled in with earth the servant and the dogs suddenlydisappeared, and were never heard of again, while at the same time theboat vanished from the cove. 

Since this episode a ghostly vessel had occasionally appeared in thenight, floating through the midnight air from the direction of thesea--a black, square-rigged, single-masted barque, sometimes with asmall boat, at other times without, but with no crew visible. Theapparition appeared on the sea about nightfall, and sailed through thebreakers that foamed over the dangerous rocks that fringed the shore, gliding over the sands and through the mist that covered the "Bottoms, "and proceeding in awful silence and mystery to the pirate's grave, whereit immediately disappeared; and it is an ill omen to those who see thatghostly vessel, the sight of which forebodes misfortune!

It was near St. Levan's Church that the stranger was buried, but whenthis happened was beyond record. St. Levan himself appeared to have beena fisherman, but only for food, not sport; the valley in his day was notthe dreary place it was now, for grass and flowers sprang up in hisfootsteps and made a footpath from his church to the sea. He only caughtone fish each day, as that was sufficient for his frugal meal. Oneevening, however, when he was fishing, he felt a strong pull at hisline, and on drawing it up found two fish (bream) on his hook. As heonly needed one and desired to be impartial and not to favour one morethan the other, he threw them both into the sea. Then he threw his linein afresh, and again they both came on the hook, and were again thrownback; but when they came a third time, St. Levan thought there must besome reason for this strange adventure, and carried them home. Onreaching his house he found his sister St. Breaze and her two childrenhad come to visit him, and he was glad then that he had brought the twofish, which were cooked for supper. The children were very hungry, asthey had walked a long distance, and ate fast and carelessly, so that abone stuck in the throat of each and killed them!

St. Levan must have been a strong man, for he once split a rock bystriking it with his fist, and then prophesied:

 When with panniers astride A pack-horse can ride Through St. Levan's stone The world will be done. 

The stone was still to be seen, and in the fissure made by the saint theflowers and ferns were still growing; but there did not appear to be anydanger of the immediate fulfilment of the saint's prophecy!

[Illustration: SENNEN CHURCH. ]

We now walked on to one of the finest groups of rocks in the country, named "Tol-Peden-Penwith"--a great mass of granite broken and shatteredinto the most fantastic forms and wonderfully picturesque. It formed theheadland round which Tregeagle had to carry the sand, and the remainderof the coast from there to Land's End and beyond formed similarscenery. We were quite enraptured with the wild beauty of the differentheadlands and coves pointed out to us by our friend; but suddenly he sawa church tower in the distance, and immediately our interest in thelovely coast scenery faded away and vanished, for our friend, pointingtowards the tower, said he knew a public-house in that direction wherehe had recently had a first-class tea. We all three hurried away acrossstone fences towards the place indicated until we reached a road, and wehad just turned off on coming to a junction, when we heard a stentorianvoice in the distance saying, "Hi! That's not the way!" We had forgottenall about the driver for the moment, but there he was in another road afew fields away, so we shouted and motioned to him to follow us, and weall had tea together while his horse was stabled in the inn yard. Thetea, for which we were quite ready, was a good one, and when we hadfinished we walked on to the Land's End, giving our driver an idea ofthe probable time we should be ready for him there. 

The name of the village was Sennen, and near the church was a largestone 8 feet long and 3 feet wide, said to have been the table-stone atwhich seven Saxon kings once dined. An old historian gave their names asEthelbert V, King of Kent; Cissa II, King of the South Saxons; Kinigils, King of the West Saxons; Sebert, King of Essex or the East Saxons;Ethelfred, King of Northumbria; Penda, King of Mercia; and Sigebert V, King of East Anglia. It was also supposed that King Alfred had on oneoccasion dined at the same stone after defeating the Danes atVellandruacher. 

The mile or so of moorland over which we now walked to the Land's Endmust have looked very beautiful earlier in the year, as the gorse orfurze was mingled with several varieties of heather which had displayedlarge bell-formed blooms of various colours, and there had been otherflowers in addition. Even at this late period of the year sufficientcombination of colour remained to give us an idea how beautiful it musthave appeared when at its best. From some distance away we could see thewhitewashed wall of a house displaying in large black letters the words:"THE FIRST AND LAST HOUSE IN ENGLAND, " and this we found to be an inn. Here we were practically at the end of our walk of 1, 372 miles, whichhad extended over a period of nine weeks. We had passed through manydangers and hardships, and a feeling of thankfulness to the Almighty wasnot wanting on our part as we found ourselves at the end. We had stillto cross a narrow neck of land which was just wide enough at the top fora footpath, while almost immediately below we could hear the seathundering on each side of us. As we cautiously walked across in singlefile our thoughts were running on the many Cornish saints in whosefootsteps we might now be treading, and on King Arthur and the GiantTregeagle, when our friend, who was walking ahead, suddenly stopped andtold us we were now on the spot where Charles Wesley stood when hecomposed a memorable verse which still appeared in one of his hymns:

 Lo! on a narrow neck of land, 'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand Secure, insensible; A point of time, a moment's space, Removes me to that heavenly place Or shuts me up in hell. 

As we were crossing the narrow path we had not thought of the Wesleys asbeing amongst the Cornish saints; but where was there a greater saintthan John Wesley? and how much does Cornwall owe to him! He labouredthere abundantly, and laid low the shades of the giants and the saintswhom the Cornish people almost worshipped before he came amongst them, and in the place of these shadows he planted the better faith of asimple and true religion, undefiled and that fadeth not away!

We must own to a shade of disappointment when we reached the last stoneand could walk no farther--a feeling perhaps akin to that of Alexanderthe Great, who, when he had conquered the known world, is said to havesighed because there were no other worlds to conquer. But this feelingsoon vanished when with a rush came the thoughts of those dear friendsat home who were anxiously awaiting the return of their loved ones whomthey had lost awhile, and it was perhaps for their sakes as well as ourown that we did not climb upon the last stone or ledge or rock thatoverhung the whirl of waters below: where the waters of the two Channelswere combining with those of the great Atlantic. 

[Illustration: ENYS-DODNAN, ARMED KNIGHT, AND LONGSHIPS. ]

We placed our well-worn sticks, whose work like our own was done, on therock before us, with the intention of throwing them into the sea, butthis we did not carry out. 

We stood silent and spell-bound, for beyond the Longships Lighthousewas the setting sun, which we watched intently as it slowly disappearedbehind some black rocks in the far distance. It was a solemn moment, forhad we not started with the rising sun on a Monday morning and finishedwith the setting sun on a Saturday night? It reminded us of thebeginning and ending of our own lives, and especially of the end, as theshadows had already begun to fall on the great darkening waters beforeus. Was it an ancient mariner, or a long-forgotten saint, or apresentiment of danger that caused my brother to think he heard afar-away whisper as if wafted over the sea?

[Illustration: LONGSHIPS LIGHTHOUSE, LAND'S END. ]

 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. 

HOMEWARD BOUND

(BY MR. ROBERT NAYLOR)

We retraced our steps to the "First and Last House in England, " where wefound our driver waiting for us with his conveyance, which we had nowtime to examine, and found to be a light, rickety, two-wheeled cart ofancient but durable construction, intended more for use than ornament, and equivalent to the more northern shandrydan or shandry. The strongboard which formed the seat was placed across the conveyance from oneside to the other a few inches below the top-rail, and would slide toany point required between the front and back of the trap, the weight ofthe driver or other passengers holding it in its place. It would onlyhold three persons, including the driver. The first difficulty thatpresented itself, however, was the fact that we were not sufficientlyprovided with warm clothing to face the twelve-mile drive to Penzance inthe cold night air; but, fortunately, our friend had an overcoat whichhad been brought out by the driver; so after a short consultation wearranged that I should sit between the driver and our friend, acomparatively warm position, while my brother sat on the floor of theconveyance, where there was a plentiful supply of clean dry straw, withhis face towards the horse and his back supported by the backboard ofthe trap, where our presence on the seat above him would act as a screenfrom the wind. 

After arranging ourselves as comfortably as possible in our rather novelpositions, with which we were rather pleased than otherwise, weproceeded on our way at a brisk speed, for our horse was quite fresh andshowed no disposition to loiter on the road, since like ourselves he wason his way home. 

Lighting regulations for vehicles were not in force in those days, andconveyances such as ours carried no lights even on the darkest night;but with a total absence of trees, and lighted by the first quarter ofthe new moon, we expected to reach Penzance before the night becamereally dark. 

The conversation as we passed into the open country was carried on bythe three of us in front, as my brother could not join in it owing tohis position; and we had just turned towards him with the jocularremark, "How are you getting on down there?" and had received his reply, "All right!" when, with scarcely a moment's warning, we met with anaccident which might have killed him and seriously injured ourselves. Wesuddenly crashed into a heavy waggon drawn by two horses, the firstwheel of the waggon striking dead against ours. The force of thecollision caused our seat to slide backwards against my brother, pinning him against the backboard of the cart, but, fortunately for him, our driver, who had retained his hold on his reins, jumped up at thesame moment and relieved the pressure, so that he had only the weight oftwo men against him instead of three. 

Meantime all was confusion, and it was a case of every one for himself;but the only man who was equal to the occasion was our driver, who withone hand pulled his horse backwards almost as quickly as the otherhorses came forward, and with his whip in the other hand slashedfuriously at the face of the waggoner, who was seated on the wide boardin front of his waggon fast asleep and, as it afterwards appeared, in astate of intoxication. 

Our conveyance was on its proper side of the road and quite near thefence, so that our friend jumped out of it on the land above, quicklyfollowed by myself, and, rapidly regaining the road, we ran towards thehorses attached to the waggon and stopped them. 

A tremendous row now followed between the waggoner, who was a powerfullybuilt man, and our driver, and the war of words seemed likely to lead toblows; but my brother, whom in the excitement of the moment we had quiteforgotten, now appeared upon the scene in rather a dazed condition, and, hearing the altercation going on, advanced within striking distance ofthe waggoner. I could see by the way he held his cudgel that he meantmischief if the course of events had rendered it necessary, but theblood on the waggoner's face showed he had been severely punishedalready. 

Seeing that he was hopelessly outnumbered, the waggoner, who was almosttoo drunk to understand what had happened, became a little quieter andgave us his name, and we copied the name of the miller who employed himfrom the name-plate on the waggon, giving similar information to thedriver concerning ourselves; but as we heard nothing further about thematter, we concluded the case was settled out of court. 

We all congratulated my brother on his almost providential escape fromwhat might have been a tragic ending to his long walk. He had told me hehad a foreboding earlier in the evening that something was about tohappen to him. From the position in which he was seated in the bottom ofthe trap he could not see anything before him except the backs of thethree men sitting above, and he did not know what was happening until hethought he saw us tumbling upon him and myself jumping in the air over abush. 

He described it in the well-known words of Sir Walter Scott:

 The heart had hardly time to think. The eyelid scarce had time to wink. 

The squeeze, as he called it, had left its marks upon him, as his chestwas bruised in several places, and he was quite certain that if we hadslid backwards another half-inch on our seat in the trap we should havefinished him off altogether--for the back of the trap had already beenforced outwards as far as it would go. He felt the effects of theaccident for a long time afterwards. 

We complimented our driver on his wonderful presence of mind and on theway he had handled his horse under the dangerous conditions which hadprevailed. But we must needs find the smithy, for we dared not attemptto ride in our conveyance until it had been examined. The wheel had beenrather seriously damaged, and other parts as well, but after some slightrepairs it was so patched up as to enable us to resume our journey, witha caution from the blacksmith to drive slowly and with great care. 

We arrived at Penzance safely, but much later than we had expected, andafter paying our driver's fee together with a handsome donation, weadjourned with our friend to the hotel for a substantial dinner and totalk about our adventure until bedtime. When bidding us "good night, "our friend informed us that, as he had an engagement in the country somemiles away, we should not see him on the next day, but he promised tovisit us after his return to Liverpool. This he did, and we saw him onseveral occasions in after years when, owing to unforeseencircumstances, we found ourselves, like him, in the timber trade. 

_Sunday, November 19th. _

Sir Matthew Hale was a member of Cromwell's Parliament and Lord ChiefJustice of England in 1671. His "Golden Maxim" is famous:

 A Sabbath well spent brings a week of content, And health for the toils of to-morrow; But a Sabbath profaned, whate'er may be gained, Is a certain forerunner of sorrow!

Anxious as we were to reach our home as soon as possible, our knowledgeof Sir Matthew's maxim and of the Commandment "_Remember_ that thou keepholy the Sabbath Day, " prevented us from travelling on Sunday. 

Penzance is said to have a temperature cooler in summer and warmer inwinter than any other town in Britain, and plants such as dracænas, aloes, escollonia, fuchsias, and hydrangeas, grown under glass in winterelsewhere, flourished here in the open air, while palms or tree fernsgrow to a wonderful height, quite impossible under similar conditions inour more northern latitude, where they would certainly be cut down byfrost. We also noted that the forest trees were still fairly coveredwith autumnal leaves, but when we arrived home two days later similartrees were quite bare. 

After a short walk we returned to the hotel for breakfast, over which wediscussed the disappearance of our friend of yesterday, wondering whatthe business could be that had occupied his time for a whole week in theneighbourhood of Penzance, and why he should have an engagement on theSunday "some miles in the country, " when we could have done so well withhis company ourselves. But as there seemed to be some mystery about hismovements, we came to the conclusion that there must be a lady in thecase, and so, as far as we were concerned, the matter ended. 

We attended morning service in accordance with our usual custom, andlistened to a sermon from a clergyman who took for his text the whole ofthe last chapter in the Book of Ecclesiastes, with special emphasis onthe first word:

 REMEMBER

 Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them. 

He began by informing us that we had nearly arrived at the end of thereligious year, and that the season of Advent, when the Church's newyear would begin, was close at hand. He then passed on to his text andbegan to describe the days of our youth. We listened intently as he tookus by degrees from our youth up to old age and to the years when wemight have to say we had no pleasure in them. He was a powerfulpreacher, and we almost felt ourselves growing older as we followed hisreferences to each verse in the short chapter he had taken for his text. 

Then he described the failure of the different organs of the human mindand body: the keepers of the house trembling; the strong men bowingtheir heads towards the earth to which they were hastening; thegrinders, or teeth, ceasing because they were few; the eyes as if theywere looking out of darkened windows; the ears stopped, as if they werelistening to sounds outside doors that were shut; followed by the fearsof that which was high "because man goeth to his long home"; and finallywhen the silver cord was loosed or the golden bowl broken, the dustreturning to the earth as it was, and the spirit unto God Who made it!

We waited for the peroration of his fine sermon, which came withstartling suddenness, like our accident yesterday, for he concludedabruptly with the following words:

 Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil. 

My brother took shorthand notes of portions of the sermon for futurereference, for we were both greatly impressed by what we had heard, andconversed about some of the points raised as we returned to the hotel. 

Later in the day we attended the Wesleyan chapel, where we formed twounits in a large congregation, as we had done in the far-off Wesleyanchapel of the Shetland Islands. Here again we appreciated the goodservice, including the fine congregational singing. 

Early on Monday morning we started by train for home; but travelling byrail was much slower in those days, and although we journeyed the wholeof the day and late into the night which followed, we did not reach ourhome at Thelwall until Tuesday, November 21st, at two o'clock in themorning, where we awoke the sleepers by singing "Home, Sweet Home"beneath a bedroom window on the east side of Cuerden Hall, where we knewour father and mother would be waiting for us--as they are now, but inno earthly home. 

[Illustration: THE ROCKERIES AT THELWALL. ]

The news of our arrival soon spread through the surrounding country, where we were well known, and for a time we were lionised and visited bya host of friends, and our well-worn sticks, which at one time wethought of leaving in the sea at Land's End, were begged from us byintimate friends and treasured for many years by their new owners in theparish of Grappenhall. 

Considerable interest had naturally been taken locally in our long walk, for we had been absent from our customary haunts for seventy-five days, having travelled by land and sea--apart from the actual walk from Johno' Groat's to Land's End--a distance nearly a thousand miles. Everybodywanted to be told all about it, so I was compelled to give theinformation in the form of lectures, which were repeated in the courseof many years in different parts of the country where aid forphilanthropic purposes was required. The title of the lecture I gave inthe Cobden Hall at Hull on January 25th, 1883, was "My journey from Johno' Groat's to Land's End, or 1, 372 miles on foot, " and the syllabus onthat occasion was a curiosity, as it was worded as follows:

 John O' Groat's House and how we got there--Flying visit to Orkney and Shetland--Crossing Pentland Firth in a sloop--Who was John o' Groat?--What kind of a house did he live in?--A long sermon--The great castles--Up a lighthouse--The Maiden's Paps--Lost on the moors--Pictish towers--Eating Highland porridge--The Scotch lassie and the English--A Sunday at Inverness--Loch Ness--The tale of the heads--Taken for shepherds--Fort William--Up Ben Nevis--The Devil's Staircase--Glencoe--A night in Glen-Orchy--Sunday at Dalmally--Military road--The Cobbler and his Wife--Inverary and the Duke of Argyle--Loch Lomond--Stirling Castle--Wallace's Monument--A bodyless church--Battle of Bannockburn-Linlithgow Palace--A Sunday in Edinburgh, and what I saw there--Roslyn Castle--Muckle-mouthed Meg--Abbotsford, the residence of Sir Walter Scott--Melrose Abbey--A would-not-be fellow-traveller--All night under the stairs--Lilliesleaf--Hawick--A stocking-maker's revenge--Langholm--Taken for beggars--In a distillery--A midnight adventure in the Border Land--A night at a coal-pit--Crossing the boundary--A cheer for old England--Longtown and its parish clerk--Hearing the bishop--Will you be married?--Our visit to Gretna-Green--Ramble through the Lake District--Sunday at Keswick--Furness Abbey--A week in the Big County--Stump Cross Cavern--Brimham rocks--Malham Cove--Fountains Abbey--The Devil's Arrows--Taken for highwaymen--Tessellated pavements--York Minster--Robin Hood and Little John--A Sunday at Castleton--Peveril of the Peak--The cave illuminated--My sore foot and the present of stones--March through Derbyshire--Lichfield Cathedral--John Wiclif--High Cross--A peep at Peeping Tom at Coventry--Leamington--Warwick Castle--Beauchamp chapel--In Shakespeare's House at Stratford-on-Avon--Inhospitable Kineton--All night in the cold--Banbury Cross--A Sunday at Oxford--March across Salisbury Plain--Stonehenge--Salisbury Cathedral--Where they make carpets--Exeter Cathedral--Bridport--Honiton--Dawlish--A Sunday at Torquay--Devonshire lanes--Totnes--Dartmouth--Plymouth and the Big Bridge--Our adventure with the 42nd Highlanders--Tramp across Dartmoor--Lost in the dark--Liskeard--Truro--Tramp through the land of the saints--St. Blazey--St. Michael's Mount--A Sunday at Penzance--Catching pilchards--The Logan Rock--Druidical remains--The last church--Wesley's Rock--Land's End--narrow escape--Home, sweet home--God save the Queen. 

To this lengthy programme the secretary added the following footnote:

 Mr. Naylor is probably one of the few men living, if not the only one, who has accomplished the feat of walking from one end of the kingdom to the other, without calling in the aid of any conveyance, or without crossing a single ferry, as his object was simply pleasure. His tour was not confined to the task of accomplishing the journey in the shortest possible time or distance, but as it embraced, to use his own words, "going where there was anything to be seen, " his ramble led him to view some of the most picturesque spots in the kingdom. 

After this lecture I wired my brother, "I only got as far as York. " Ashe knew I had gone to Hull by train, he read the telegram to mean I hadonly been able to reach York that day, and he imagined how disappointedmy friends in Hull would be when I did not arrive there in time to givethe lecture. But he was relieved when he afterwards discovered that mywire referred to the lecture itself. He thought I had done well to getas far as York, for "John o' Groat's to Land's End" was much too large asubject to be dealt with in the course of a single lecture. 

[Illustration: LAND'S END. ]

[Illustration: [signature of] John Naylor]

IN MEMORIAM

Time plays many pranks with one's memory. The greatness of the journeyis no longer with me, and my companion has been called away. But thismuch stands out clearly in my recollections: my brother was the leadingspirit of the adventure--his was the genius which conceived it and itwas his courage and perseverance which compelled us to keep on in spiteof many difficulties. 

I have now set out our peregrinations at length from the diaries we keptduring the journey. The record, such as it is, I give to those who knewus as a tribute to his memory. 

[Illustration: BEESTON TOWERS. ]

JOHN NAYLOR. 

BEESTON TOWERS, CHESHIRE, 1916.