The morning call., 1891-01-25

usually visible from the top of StanemOor
was denied. But it was treat to stand by
ReTe Cross, unmolested by witch or war
lock, and recall the meaning OF the gray old
relic that bad stood there so SlurdIly Tor
mere than 800 years. William the Con-
queror and Malcolm, King of Scotland, met
here with their armies to decide by battle
the boundaries of their respective Kingdoms.
Instead of fighting they wisely Toasted.
| Wiser still, they decided that the very spot
should mark the boundary. Thereupon
they caused cross to be set up. On one
side was craven the image OF William, on
the other that of Malcolm. They named it
| the ROi Cross, the "Cross of the Kings"
| Time has corrupted the name TO Rere Cross.
1t has eaten away its images, Topped oil the
| arms and gnawed out its head But it Is
Roi or Rere Cross still, and marks the
| boundary Of the shires of York and West
| moreland to-day. 1t was the one thing TO
| be chung to as the storm swept me over the
mountain. The night seemed 10 fall on
Stanemoor as though driven upon the earth
! out of the storm itself Descending the
eastern declivity the roar of invisible tor
rents, the creation of an hour was terrible
| Thanks to the Romans who had built that
| road, it was broad, sure, and as eternal as
| StanemOOr itself
WHIPPED, POUNDED AND BEATEN
| Along for what seemed hours, my feet sud;
| denly struck cObblast0nes. Bowrs at last!
| No human being ever loved so much TO De IN
Bowes before. But where was the place
| q
! cleaned from window within it. Here and
! there along the zig-Zag street faint glimmer
! flushed against some tiny paneS. Fearing
| within, old and palsied crones, bent and
trembling. were here and there seen crouch
ing over tilckerlng emberS OF meager fires.
Drenched from rotten matches startled by
the StOrm-laShed trees, and now thoroughly
Heightened with the prospect of no resting
place for the night, | felt my way along
what seemed to be the Street-facade of
ON ,fr,,r itc
corner, Shrunk along this, where | halted
for little, well out of the full power of the
! tempest.
Scarcely had sufficient time elapsed to per-
NIT my getting my back against the building
before there was astartling lattering rush
| The calves of my leg escaped the fury of
| the object making it, but with return rush
| the ample tails of my storm coat were gath
| cred In a sort of YOlceleSS wise which only
| death for masters command can loosen.
| Few were the snuflies AID snortings caused
| by the working of the fOur-legged mechan-
! Ism. Its forces were exclusively devoted to
! effort. That effort was certainly one of
| bringing prize into port. Yielding with
! out protest To the spirit OF the occasion |
moved with its movements, tackled with It's
tacklngS. In ZlS-zag attitude of gentle
though uneXpreSSlYe inquiry | was brought
now sl1eWiS', now backWtSe, along vast
open court into a stone archway, up stone
stairs, down stone stair-caseS, through other
stone archWays, all Of utter darkness, into a
! little room not ten feet square, where, be-
! meath rows Of copper measures and behind
! a black Old mahogany bar nearly as high as
! his head, Il Griuulug, frOWSy, puify-faced
| publican was looking henisnly down upon
! half-dCzsn gigantic Yorkshire plowboys.
| These, already well befuddled with liquor
and pounding the deal table with taeir
! mugs were roaring out song about:
York. YORK for my monte:
OF all the places 1 ever DID see.
Ihls IS the oeSt for good cOmpanIe,
Except the city OF LuuHuu.
| They r0ared louder still when | stood be-
! fore Lem IN charge of magnificent ball
! dog. The frowsy B0niface quietly reached
Tor q huge club. This he brought down with
Il crash upon The table enforcing silence in
that quarter; and then thanking his dog for
his oddly secured guest with cruel thump,
which released me, he lei the way through
labyrnthS OF cohWebbed arched HalwaVs
and huge deserted rooms to WretcGed
apartment, and, lointing 10 a bed scarcely
better than Pile OF rags. took his depart
uIe. This was the once famous George. now
tile Unicorn, Iun Eight coaches bound to
London or GLASGOW daily Changed horses
here in tile good old coaching times Dick
ems and OWne had occupied this very
room, once a cheerful psrlor-cnamber. The
night, with untold furies Of an awful storm
slHrkInS about the greNSome old place, with
windows rafting ike crazy castanets, doors
OF Railways and cupooards opening AS if
flung into the room
BY UNSEEN HANDS,
And the very tioor-boards restless and dis
quiet as though struggling with ugly gnomeS
below, seemed to unite all the hateful and
and evil spirits of the dead past in protest
at disturbance by life and health aud in
quiry.
But sleep will softly shut all hateful
things away from him who will come with
storm over StanemoOr's wilds. When |
awUke the sun WAS shining upon dead old
Bowes. There is a silent bell tower on the
roof OF the Unicorn. l climbed to this.
There lay the suuOuS shell of the ancient
Yllage-a winding, cobUled grasS-grUwn
street of half mile in length tianked by
ruined houses, halt of whose matched roots
had fallen in. From their dauh and rot,
grass, weeds. and even flowers. were luXur-
antly spin ling; as though nature seeking
to hide the SPOT, had hidden the winds and
birds seed it for fitting diSg uise. Far to the
east the eye catches Il glim pSe of the classic
domain OF ROkeby. To the north, the dels
aud felis where flows the river Tees To
the south, the glen OF GTeta, where that
river tumbles and sings That huge, lone,
stone structure, the FIRST at Bowes from
the Greia Bridge way, weird and ghosLly,
under huge sycamoTes, was once another
Dutheboys. Richard Golden once owned
IT and made it his home. Then the
Unicorn, with acres OF out-buldings.
empty and moSs-gr0Wn. Opposite another
silent inn, the Rose and Crown. Then, fac
ing westward, little Norman church.
Near it, the ruins Of Norman castle. Be
hind these ruins, the ancient Roman station
OF Savatrae, where are remains of baths
and an aqueduct. Then, rooted and un-
rooted hOyel on either side to the westward,
where you will still see, just as Dickens aud
his Nicholas NickieDy saw, "a lOn1, cold
looking house, enc story high, with few
struggling Outbuiliings behind, and u birn
and stable ad Joining.
That structure just as it stands to-day
was the abode OF a real SqGeers III tine
al e =
and OF a Master Nackford Squeers All the
difference was in the name. That was
Shaw. They possessed the same ignorance,
avarice, .venally, brutality. The old
wretch of master was ruined by the
exposure. Investigation and damage suits
stripped him of all, or rather made him
to the END Of his days an imbec!le servi-
tor 10 tie man BUustield, who married
his daughter, Mary Ann Shaw Fanny
Squeers), and VINO, now, over 50 years Of
age, savagely prevents your entrance to the
place with CLUB and dog. 1t you me to
DutheboyS Hall, you viii have to content
yourself with an exterior view of the ram
shackle old structure. and peep from over
| the hedge, behind the barn, at the identical
! pump around which the half-froZen boys
! gathered for their additions on whit n morn
| lnga. BUusfesd's wife, the last of the
| Squeers family, died six years since. The
sLaveS oil all may be seen in the little
| Chur h-yard, Near all dread and noxtous
thin8s the divine compensation leaves some
thlhs tender, sweet aud gnod. Close beside
me execrated graves is tablet erected to
5he memory Il the two who died for loyal
love. Roger Wright5ton and Martha Rail
ton they were in life. In immortality they
are the Edwin and Emma OF Maliet's pa
thetIc ballad; and rustic Yorkshire lovers
still find inspiration to endless fidelity be-
side these graves in the little cburch-yard of
dead old BJwes.
| "Copyri0hL EDGAR L. WAKEuAS.
On Sunday, the 1st of February, will be
| presented an interesting and entertaining
paper by Mr.. WaEeman the olden
| haunts OF Robin Hood and Friar Tuck
with their present Identification, repIcte
WIN pleasing legends, poetry and reminis-
| cence.
LOVE OF TOBACCO.