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the behalf of some dissatisfied expectant, to inquire into the case. However that might be, we presently saw the man's wife, a very common-looking person, and appearing wonderfully out of place as the mistress of such a house, peeping at us from the windows, first on one side of the house, and then on the other, and at the same time attempting to screen herself from view by partly unclosing the shutters, and placing herself behind them. Soon after, her daughter too came with stealthy steps, out of the back-door, crept cautiously round the house, and posted herself behind a bush to watch us; nor had we advanced far from the place, when the man himself came hurrying along, and went past us with very black and inquisitive looks.

We were told that on the will being read, the other executor being now present, was not more amazed at the fact of his becoming, unknown to himself, so greatly benefited by it, than he was at the general details of it. He inquired of the lawyer if the will had been read to the lady from time to time, in order to see whether it might require some alteration, and being told by him that it had not, he seemed filled with the utmost astonishment and indignation, and abruptly said to him-" Why, there is nothing but damnation for you!" and with that proceeded in such piercing terms to shew to the lawyer the cruelty and wickedness of his conduct, that the man trembled through every joint. It was added that the lawyer "never looked up afterwards," but was in the greatest distress of mind, and daily wasted away. That when the tenants of the property, some time afterwards went to pay their rents, they found him propped up in bed with bolsters and pillows, a most pitiable object; his

inkhorn stitched into the bed-quilt by him, and yet his trembling hand scarcely able to direct his pen into it. That such was the effect of fear, and the visitings of conscience on his superstitious mind, that he drank the water which dropped from the church-roof in rainy weather, in the hope it would do him good!

This is a most extraordinary story, but we found one of these quiet dales ringing with it from end to end, and this was the account given by most trustworthy people, who knew the parties well, and one of whom was the lady's confidential servant. Amongst the stories which we heard relating to the past state of these dales, was one of the murder of a Highland drover, in its particulars bearing a striking resemblance to the story of Scott's, told under that title. In Swale Dale is said to be a race of gipsies, a very fine set of people; and a remarkable account was given us of one of them, a singularly fine woman in her time, called Nance of Swaledale.

They have some singular customs in these dales not yet mentioned. One is, when a sow litters, they allow her to champ oats out of a bee-hive to make the bees lucky; and salt is thrown into the fire, with the same object, when the bees swarm. Another of their customs arises out of their spirit of good neighbourhood, and mutual accommodation. In sheep-shearing time, instead of each man shearing his flock solitarily, they combine together in troops, and go from farm to farm, till they have completed the whole, and celebrate the end of their labours at each house, over a good supper given by the master.

Here then I close this second chapter of the nooks of the world, bearing grateful testimony that amongst

the virtues of the dales-people, hospitality and attachment to their pleasant hills and valleys are pre-eminent. Wherever we went we found them only too happy to shew us all the beauties of their country, "the winding becks, the scars and waterfalls, and prospects from the loftiest fells. When they had trudged with us for many a weary mile, through moss and moor, they would hang the girdle upon the peat-fire, and in a wonderfully short time have those delicious little kettle-cakes, made of pastry, and thickly dotted with currants, smoking on the tea table. And when you came in at a late hour, would bring you out those rural dainties, equally delicious, gooseberry tarts, with curds and cream. Long may the simple virtues of the Dales remain, while knowledge in its growth, roots out the more earthly traits of character, and implants a bolder spirit of enterprise, with the present moral integrity of mind.

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CHAPTER IV.

OLD ENGLISH HOUSES.

OUR country houses, and especially the older ones, are in themselves an inestimable national treasure. A thousand endearing associations gather about them. I cannot conceive a more deeply interesting work than a history of them which entered fully into the spirit of the times in which they were raised, and through which they have stood. Which should give us a view of the national changes which have passed over them; mighty revolutions, whether abrupt and violent, or slow and silent, in fortune, in manners, and in mind; and still more, which should, aided by family paintings, family documents and traditions, unfold their domestic annals. What an opening up of the human heart would be there! There is nothing more splendid, or surprising, or fearful, or pathetic, or happy and fanciful in romance, than would be there discovered. There is no success, no glory of life and action, no image of princely or baronial power, no strange freaks of fortune, none of the startling, or the moving incidents of humanity but have there enrolled themselves. What noble hearts;

what great and pathetic spirits have dwelt at one time or other in those old places; and then, what beautiful and bewitching creatures have cast through them the sunshine of their presence; have made them glad with their wit, and their gay fancies, and their strong affections; or have hallowed them with their sufferings and their tears. O for the revelation of the fair forms; of the scenes of successful or sorrowful love; of the bridals and the burials; of the poetic dreams and pious aspirations, that have warmed or saddened these old halls through the flight of ages! Much of this is gone for ever; swept into the black and fathomless gulf of oblivion; but enough might be recovered to make us wonder at what has passed upon our ancestral soil, and to make us love it with a still deeper love. There is no portion of our national history, or point of our national character, but would be brought into the sweep of such narratives, and receive illustration from them. Our warriors, statesmen, philosophers, divines, poets, beauties, and heroines more admirable than beauty could make them, would all figure there.* In the galleries of many of these houses hang portraits to which traditions are attached that would freeze the blood, or make it dance with ardour and delight; that would chain up the listening spirit in breathless attention, in awe and curiosity. In the very writings by which the estates are secured, in old charters, wills and other deeds, facts are traced and changes developed of the most singular character; and in the oral annals of the

This was written three years ago. Since then the author has made considerable progress in such a work.

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