Barre evening telegram. (Barre, Vt.) 1898-19??, 1900-12-21
BY THE LYCH GATE
A Story of Dine Who Married For
Wealth and Beauty.


There is a valley amid the York
shire hills known as Coverdale, from
whose slopes. long years ago, cam
pious Miles. who translated the Bible
and who was called by the simple foil
Miles of Coyerdale, after the place d
bis birth.
Very calm and peaceful the little DIAL,
lies under the shadOy' of the grea
hills, whose submits ar e purple in the
sweet summertide wit h their roya
mantle of fragrant heat her, and where
the clrlew and the golden plover's
cry alone break the gentle stiffness
that rests over the little world beyond
the haunts Of restless &C tjvity and hur
rying life.
There is no railway In quiet Cover,
dale, no town to which the country
folk may wend their way, DO shops save
the wonderful village emp orium, where
everything in a very small way may be
obtained, but where few ia shions come
to startle the gayer min ded Of the
maidens, or strange new devices in
~neckties to dazzle the Wis ion Of the
country lads.
To peep into the world nee essitates q
journey under the shelter Of the lone
hillsides, along bonny lanes, intwined
with pink and creamy tinted honey.
suckle, and green with waving ferns.
past the quaint inn, whose sign is a
famous but long ago rae horse, called
in the canny Yorkshire tongue the
Lady Bah, and, finally, across the moor
into horse loving Midlothian. where
are people and shops, and many inns
with curiousIy painted s%ignposts-the
Black Swan and it's brother, the White
Swan, and many others too.
But down in Coverdale there Is q
beautiful old church, set like a jewe!
In it's surrounds ng Of stately trees and
poisoning hedges, with the quiet
%greenness of Gods acre lying stretched
about it, and the singing of natures
choristers in the sweet air around-a
place of p%eacefulntass and repose, where
earth's burdens mtly fall from one for
a little space and he aven's benson light
softly on such of it's children as stay to
pray and think awhile.
There is a quaint ych gate at the en-.
trance to the holy spot, a carved halt.
ing place of oak, set tenderly by some
good man of the dalGspeople-a squire
of the olden days. who loved his home
and his n%eighoors and his God full
we'll, | think. and sought to beautify
the church in which he and his had
W%orshiped so long.
And down the fair avenue Of trees
within the precincts and past the quiet
church lie the remains of what was
once the proud abbey of Coverdale,
where the monks said masses and cul'
tivated their garden and tended the
souls and bodies Of the poor and needy
in the dale.
1t is a beautiful spot in a beautiful
countryside, and so thought a man
who viewed it lovingly and pointed out
all it's changeful lights and shadows
and all its pretty peeps Of field ant
river to his wife.
They had only been married a little
while, a few short weeks, and had
elected to spen d their honeymoon in
some Of the quaint corners of England
hence their jourlleying thither to this
sequestered nook among the hills AND
the far stretched moorlands in thcii
yelling of regal purple. The mar loved
1t already with the artist love which
sees the beautiful so quickly and feels
it so strongly. and the woman-well
she saw the beauties, too, but she was
growing a little weary of pretty sights.
and she was very pretty and spoiled her
self and perhaps a little Jealous of ad
miration wasted which might have
been diverted homeward.
So she stood by the quaint relics OF
the abbots and mailed knights at Gov.
erdale, where two quaint forms guard
q doorway as perchance their originals
guarded some stronghold In the old
fighting days long gone. and her white
gown fell over the gray stones and
cleaned against the red and orange
nasturtiums in the garden which sur
rounds the old walls and arches. and
she wondered if her husband had neal.
ly finished his sketch and whether they
should stay at Middleham for a day OF
two or go on farther to Wensleydale.
am rather tired of admlring places"
she said to herself a little impatiently,
land, then, | never can remember who
lived In the castles and abbeys. How
uncomfortable they must have been"
And then-for she was only a very
young bride, too-she felt sorry fol-
having been impatient, even in her
thoughts. toward her husband. and she
turned to speak to him with an even
sweeter smile than usual on her pretty
lips, for her husband was a genius In
his way, u thinker and an author. and
every one had envied her when she
married him in spite of her wealth.
All, there was a pitiful ring in the
story-poor and nameless, but clever,
beating himself to pieces In his eager
attempts to win fame single handed
and rich and beautiful the woman with
the fairyllke figure and exquisite Fact
who had given the man her gold.
And, alb, a more pitiful note still. and
the man remembers that some one has
once long ago talked Of this very spot
with its quaint surroundings and its