beheld. At any rate there is no doubt but that both Britons and Romans perpetuated in various ways the memory of this great impostor, and this I take to be the prima stamina of the names of our Simon hills and seats. And in so far as our elucidations of the early British and Roman occupation of Ingleborough are concerned, this is proof-positive so far as regards the subjacent Simon Fell.

But now that we are talking about Simon Seat, let us climb the Wharfedale mountain and see where the great Simon sat, and awed the trembling crowds! It is, however, hardly likely that he ever sat there himself, but was probably represented by some Druidical soothsayer on whom his mystic gifts descended. We shall, however, not quarrel on that point, preferring as we do, the testimony of the rocks to even a sight of the ghost of Simon himself, or his deputy, who may haunt the grey old cliffs there still.

From Barden Bridge we follow the main road on about mile, to within a short distance of Wharfe View House, where are two conspicuous ash-trees, opposite which is a gate, which we must open and ascend by the side of a plantation, and through several other gates, until the open moor is reached. By still keeping the main cart-road we come to the peat-beds, having Earl's Seat away on the right, and the high point above which is significantly called Cairn or Carn-cliffe, and a mile beyond it is the famous Rocking Stone. Beyond the peat-beds the three great groups of rocks on the edge of Simon Seat (as they are collectively called) are now seen. It is, however, the highest, or largest group to which we must make, as this claims to be the Seat proper. The stones, -huge weathered blocks of light-grey millstone-grit, that have almost the appearance of granite, lie tumbled about in all sorts of strange positions, heaped one on the other, and forming rude chambers, and bridges, and rocking-stones, and bearing upon their surfaces many curious knob-like excrescences, and round basin-like cavities. The central stone on the edge of the cliff has one such evenly-formed bowl-shaped hole, but laid open to the west, in the manner of a seat, while behind it are two smaller cavities opening eastwards, or in the opposite direction to the larger one just named, and in which, while the front one was occupied, two persons could kneel behind with their faces turned towards the declining sun. And this is precisely as we are taught to believe the old Britons did, while adoring the great Giver of Life and Light. There is a large rock on the south side of this containing five similar, but irregularly-placed cavities, about which, however, we shall make no pretences at solution, as the uses of such "cups" and "basins," and as to whether they are artificial or otherwise, are still, and likely to remain so, moot points. But here and there upon the edges and surfaces of the * See Dr. Pegge's "Anecdotes of Old Times."

rocks are curious, small knobby protuberances, sometimes hollowed in the centre, which may, or may not, be artificially formed. But these lumps or stone nipples projecting from the main blocks are very striking, and we are unable to account for them, unless they have some reference to the Beltane Feasts still kept up in some parts of the Scottish Highlands, and in France and Ireland.

The Beltane dinner on May Day, in Perthshire, used to consist of milk, eggs, and a cake full of lumps or nipples on the surface. On the first of May, says Pennant, in the Highlands of Scotland, the herdsmen hold their Beltein. They cut a square trench in the ground, leaving the turf in the middle; on that they make a fire of wood, on which they dress a large caudle of eggs, butter, oatmeal, and milk, and bring besides the ingredients of the caudle, plenty of beer and whiskey, for each of the company must contribute something. The rites begin with spilling some of the caudle on the ground, by way of libation; on that everyone takes a cake of oatmeal upon which are raised nine square knobs, each dedicated to some particular being, the supposed preserver of their flocks and herds, or to some particular animal, the real destroyer of them. Each person then turns his face to the fire, breaks off a knob, and flinging it over his shoulder, says, "This I give to thee, preserve thou my horses; This to thee, preserve thou my sheep," and so on. After that they use the same ceremony to the noxious animals. "This I give to thee, O fox, spare thou my lambs; This to thee, O hooded crow; This to thee, O eagle," &c. When the ceremony is over they dine on the caudle, and after the feast is finished, what is left is hid by two persons, deputed for that purpose, but on the next Sunday they re-assemble and finish the reliques of the first entertainment.*

Whether these rocky knobs are mere nodular concretions due to freaks of weathering, or have been fashioned by hand for some such purpose as I have described, will be best argued by the geologist and antiquary on the spot. I may observe that in Sir Richard Hoare's Ancient Wiltshire there is figured a curious British Vase, or Grape-Cup, on the outer surface of which is depicted four rows of such knobs or protuberances, and each, we may suppose, were intended by the original users to represent some deity. They are frequent ornaments on pottery

of later date, too.

It may also be pointed out that the high ground, on which many of these strange stones are found, is called on the Ordnance map Pock Stones Moor, which in itself carries a suggestion of these ancient rockpimples, although this may be only a deviation of the word Pog, which in some parts of Yorkshire is still used in the same sense as Bog. The intervention of the word Stones, however, rather suggests the other meaning. *See Popular Antiquities (Scotland), 1, p. 190.

The view from this high fell is remarkably fine. On Midsummer Day last year, a day to be joyously remembered in that summerless year of cloud and rain, I ascended Simon Seat to witness, like the Britons of old had often done, (but who were accustomed on this day to celebrate the event with special ceremonies), the setting of the mysterious sun. The day had been bright and the sky stainless, but towards eight o'clock a few fleecy clouds gathered on the vast horizon, which added greatly to the picturesque effect produced by the reflected rays. Far over the Vale of York, above the line of the high Hambletons, the pure, long streaks of cirrus glowed with all the vividness and delicacy of a rosy Abendglüth upon Alpine snows. It was, however, at this hour not possible to distinguish the oft-observed Minsters of York and Ripon, nor even the faintest semblance of Roseberry Topping and the Cleveland Hills in the remote corner of the county. But to the west, where the sun was descending over dark fell and rugged mountains, the scene was indescribably grand. Away over Barden Moor, as far as the great chain of hills stretching northwards to Fountains Fell, coomb and glen were filled with deepening and lengthening shadows, and a thousand miniature pools and tarns which are obscured by day, caught the slanting light upon their still surfaces, and growing every moment paler with the declination of the sun, gave a peculiar weirdness to the dark moors surrounding them. The great orb itself produced a miraculous effect upon the scenery immediately before it, gilding the mountain summits and causing them to stand out with astonishing clearness, while the overhanging clouds were gorgeous with a diverse and ever-changing iridescence. Pendle Hill and the Bolland Fells, when the sun had disappeared, loomed mistily southwards, and by nine o'clock the whole horizon had become enveloped in the gathering gloom. As I prepared to descend a solitary curlew rose from the moor close to my feet, and wheeling upwards uttered his shrill cry as I stood observing him, with his long curved beak against the sky. By ten o'clock, when I had reached my abode in the secluded valley, there was still a pale light of lingering day in the mid unclouded heavens, and on looking out an hour later the plaintive owls could be heard in their distant bowers, while the cuckoo's voice, too, was even not then at rest!

CHAPTER XXVIII.

GARGRAVE.

Walk to Gargrave - Flasby Fell-Sharp Haw, a beacon during the Spanish Armada -Red deer-A wonderful fox-hunt-Robert Story-His life at GargravePoetry and Politics-Removal to London-Gargrave Church-Description of the village-The Meets of the Craven Hunt-Some private mansions.

T is a pleasant walk or drive of four or five miles from Skipton to Gargrave, either by the main road or the picturesque old road, with its wealth of wild flowers, through Stirton and Thorlby, or if on foot along the banks of the river or canal. The most prominent objects in the landscape are the huge, dark mass of Pendle Hill in front, and the peculiar tri-partite peaks of Flasby Fell rising above verdant pastures on our right. The form of the last-named hill is singularly striking. The elongation of its gritstone summit into three conical, rocky heaps, which give them the appearance of weather-resisting necks of worn-out volcanoes, at once arrests observation from whatever side it is viewed. The highest point is Sharp Haw (1150 feet), from the top of which you have a grand prospect, at least three thousand square miles in extent. It is not generally known that this peak was a royal Beacon in ancient times, and it has probably from time immemorial been utilised for signal fires. In an old book of the time of the Spanish Armada, inscribed “1580 to 1590,-Copies of letters from the Council to the North in Yorkshire, and their Orders about Trained Bands of Militia," appears a list of Yorkshire and Lancashire Beacons, and among them is the following mention :

One beacon in Stanecliffe called Sharpo, which standeth upon a high mountain of that name within the parish of Gargrave, two miles from Skipton. This beacon receiveth light of a beacon in Lancashire, called Pendle Beacon, near to Clitheroe, and giveth light to a beacon standing upon a mountain named Fainesbergh, within the wapentake of Claro. There is but one beacon in Yewcrosse standing upon a high mountain called Engleborough, within the parish of Engleton, which standeth in the way from Skipton to Kendall, or Wharton, in Lancashire, and so on to the next sea. This beacon receiveth light from a beacon standing upon Wharton Fell, in Lancashire, and giveth light to a beacon in Longrigge, in Lancashire, near unto Sir Richard Sherburne's, and so to another beacon in Lancashire, standing upon a mountain called Pendle, not far from Clitheroe.

At this time herds of gaunt red deer and other beasts of chase roamed over Flasby Fell. It was the home of sport, and sly renard has, in later days, given the hounds many a slip on this lofty, rugged ground, or led them a merry caper up the dales. At the time of the erection of the kennels of the Craven Hunt at Holme Bridge some forty years ago, foxes were pretty common, but they have since been nearly all destroyed, and one is seldom seen. The hare is now the huntsman's booty, and the hounds here are still maintained as a subscription pack. But he has not the cunning, nor is he always the long-lived runner that is his bushy-tailed mate. Mr. Gomersall, himself a veteran hunter, tells us that the music of the hounds has kept in the wake of the red rover through many a live-long day. On one occasion, he says, they drew Haw Bank, near Skibden, and put up a fox from among the bushes that cover the southern slope of that Haw. As soon as he got clear there was a sound of Tally Ho in the air, the horses pricked their ears, and away they went with the pack in full cry, but renard bolted up the opposite hill, and went straight over Embsay Crag and on by Crookrise, then bang over Rylstone Fell and Cracoe Fell, and crossing the valley in the direction of Threshfield and Skirethorns, finally landed the hounds at nightfall somewhere up in Littondale, a run, perhaps, unprecedented in the annals of modern hunting.

It was, I may say, while strolling along the river side between Gargrave and Skipton, that Robert Story, the Craven poet, composed many of his most beautiful lyrics, some of which have been set to music, and at one time were very popular. He had much of the spirit of Burns in his nature, and delighted in woods and streams, while his heart was not unamenable to the charms of the fair sex. He was the son of a Border peasant, and came to Gargrave in 1820, a poor but ambitious and determined young man. He opened a school in South Street, which was afterwards removed to more commodious premises specially built for him, and let to him at a low rent, by Mr. Wilson, of Eshton Hall, the principal landowner. His school flourished, numbering at one time over fifty pupils, in addition to which he held the office of parish clerk, and conductor of the Sunday School, a position that was offered to him by the then Vicar, the Rev. Anthony Marsden, and which added £10 yearly to his income. Although pressed by his daily duties he found time for much and various writing, and every available moment of leisure wasdevoted either to private studies or to composition. He does not, however, seem to have been altogether satisfied with the share of attention bestowed upon his rural muse, and so when the time came he lent his aid to the great political conflict that was stirring the people during the passing of the Reform Bill in 1832. And with this his trouble began. He had been really well-off up to now, and had written at Gargrave