The daily morning journal and courier., 1894-10-20
grain of the north behind the honest

fellows purpose.
 Don't wait too long. Bob:" would answer him. touched by the thought of how fruitless delay might shape his iong-deferred triumph. also asked him how long he thought he must toll and save.
 "Till two hunnerd pound be saved;' he answered quietly. "A lads no man yon lest he's a bit O land. I'll ha' tn bit, next hers. or ne'er go back!
 What if she were then already mar ried, Bob?"
 His great gray eyes misted a trife; but he replied in a moment almost sol- emnly:
 Well. sir. I tow'd she wat as I would do." Here he struck one huge fist into the palm of the other hand. Then the bit O land may rot. sir. an a that be near 1t. I'll coon back t Lunnonw
 So here was a silent drama, thought. | working its way out of apparently hopeless conditions to It's doubtless as hopeless end.
 On leaving Oxford and taking or ders, l indulged. before accepting a living, in a years rest and travel. In this time some trlfiing incident. or bad image by friends. recalled the fact that year or two previous. queer old fel- low, distant relative living some where among the mountains of Cum berland, had made me heir to his an- cient homestead; a stone hut, l pre- | Qnpnad QIfrrnttndnH hU n fau Gfnnv acres among the Umbrian scars and fells.
 | Somewhat ashamed of It's insignifi- canoe and repeatedly rallied by my friends as to the petty nature of the "estate," had boyishly determined to renounce the legacy; but as had never visited the glorious Lake district of England. I became possessed of sud- den impulse to do this, now that I had an abundance of leisure, and at the same time secretly inspect my insignifi- cant inheritance.
 | l was in London, at my accustomed inn with few old Oxonian compan- ions, when this resolve was formed. They seemed to have a clear percep- tion of my real purpose, and at once as- sailed me with jollying jeers and all manner of cutting and boisterous sa- tire.
 | Suppose you'll restore your ances- tral halls, while you're gone?" said one of my friends soberly.
 Dig out the moat, repair the draw bridge, mend the portcullis and plant anew the family standard! solemnly urged another.
 | Don't forget your friends, now, when you come to lease your shootings" in sisted another in the same lofty and exasperating strain.
 | In this way they gaily tormented me, until, to hide my real purpose, I an- nounced that my tour would be in Nor way; at which they all set up such an incredulous shout and renewed tor menting banter, that, to evade their practical jokes and merry prosecutions, I actually had porter Bob take my sparse luggage to the Kings Cross sta tion of the North Eastern railway, rather than to the Huston station, for the Northwestern, and compromised myself before them by booking direct to Hull; at last seating myself in a compartment of the. '';Flying Scots man" train with all the composure of a hardened criminal.
 | left the Plying Scotsman" at York and crossed Yorkshire and Lancashire | to Windermere, in Westmoreland Then followed few weeks of the most .fy,or i,,tn traveller can possibly experience. For out of the heart of this glorious region have issued countless streams of thought and imagery, flowing so deep | and strong and far that they have penetrated to uttermost lands, and are 1 as fatherland waters to all who own l the good old Saxon tongue.
 To me it seemed that the sweetest and most encompassing of all benedic- tions was here. The Almighty never elsewhere fashioned the face of the earth in more entrancing mold. And then, as if the fiat were that added winsomeness and grace should shine | from every feature, lofty-souled men and women were born here, or came here, and in the years worshiped the God through all this transcendent handiwork by pouring forth their hearts and souls in ever-living psalms Thus was the complete magic of this Umbrian region wrought; until from Morecambe Bay to Solway Firth, over against the land of Burns, you can turn your eyes scarcely upon mountain or vale, lake or river, crag or tarn, rock or rivulet, forest or copse, beck or wa terfall, hamlet or home, that does not send thrilling through the vision to exultant memory some tender associa- tion with tender life, or strike some subtle chord upon the harp of fadeless song.
 I wandered on foot and alone, save for an occasional rest on the box of the swift coaches, filled with gay tour ists, which wake endless echoes of stirring bugle notes throughout the en- chanted region, and thus came close to things not set down in guide-books, tales or Song; to things undiscoverable even in the literary remains of the host of prose writers and poets who drew almost their sole inspiration from this wondrous Lake country; and to things without which could not make clear the lives of the few who have their place within this simple tale.
 I found first that here among the dales and crags were an isolate, a dis tinct and a characterful people. These da1esmen are nearly all "statesmen," or men owning and tilling their own