"Stay, coachman, stay; let us think; let us dream; let us imagine ourselves back in the days of long, long ago. Yonder island, my Jehu John, which is now so peacefully slumbering "neath the midday sun, half shrouded in the blue mist of distance, its lordly castle only a shape, its priory now hidden from our view--
""The castle with its battled walls, The ancient monastery"s halls, Yon solemn, huge, and dark-red pile, Placed on the margin of the isle."
"--Have a history, my gentle Jehu, far more worthy of being listened to than any romance that has ever been conceived or penned.
"Aidan the Christian lived and laboured yonder; from his home in that lone, surf-beaten island scintillated, as from a star, the primitive rays of our religion of love."
Jehu John (speaks): "Excuse me, sir, but that is all a kind o" Greek to me."
"Knowest thou not, my gentle John, that more than a thousand years ago that monastery was built there, that--
""In Saxon strength that abbey frowned With ma.s.sive arches broad and round, That rose alternate row and row On pond"rous columns short and low, Built ere the art was known, By pointed aisle and shafted stalk The arcades of an alleyed walk To emulate in stone.
On those deep walls the heathen Dane Had poured his impious rage in vain."
"Hast never heard of Saint Cuthbert?"
"No, sir; can"t say as ever I has."
"John! John! John! But that wondrous, that "mutable and unreasonable saint" dwelt yonder, nor after death did he rest, John, but was seen by many in divers places and at divers times in this kingdom of Britain the Great! Have you never heard the legend that he sailed down the Tweed in a huge stone coffin?"
"Ha! ha! I can"t quite swallow that, sir."
"That his figure may even until this day be seen, that--
""On a rock by Lindisfarne Saint Cuthbert sits and toils to frame The sea-born beads that bear his name.
Such tales had Whitby"s fishers told, And said they might his shape behold, And hear his anvil sound: A deadened clang--a huge dim form Seen but, and heard, when gathering storm And night were closing round.""
"It makes me a kind of eerie, sir, to hear you talk like that."
"I can"t help it, John; the poetry of the Great Wizard of the North seems still to hang around these sh.o.r.es. I hear it in the leaves that whisper to the winds, in the wild scream of the sea-birds, and in the surf that comes murmuring across that stretch of sand, or goes hissing round the weed-clad rocks.
"But, John, you"ve heard of Grace Darling?"
"Ah! there I do feel at home."
"Then you know the story. At the Longstone Lighthouse out yonder she lived. You see the castle of Bamburgh, with its square tower, there.
We noticed it all day yesterday while coming to Belford; first we took it for a lighthouse, then for a church, but finally a bright stream of sunshine fell on it from behind a cloud--on it, and on _it_ alone, and suddenly we knew it. Well, in the churchyard there the la.s.sie sleeps."
"Indeed, sir!"
"Shall we drop a tear to her memory, my gentle Jehu?"
"Don"t think I could screw one out, sir."
"Then drive on, John."
I remember stopping at a queer old-fashioned Northumbrian inn for the midday halt. We just drew up at the other side of the road. It was a very lonely place. The inn, with its byres and stables, was perched on the top of a rocky hill, and men and horses had to climb like cats to get up to the doors.
By the way, my horses do climb in a wonderful way. Whenever any one now says to me, "There is a terrible hill a few miles on," "Can a cat get up?" I inquire.
"Oh, yes, sir; a cat could go up," is the answer.
"Then," say I, "my horses will do it."
At this inn was a very, very old man, and a very, very old woman, and their son Brad. Brad was waiter, ostler, everything, tall, slow, and canny-looking.
Brad, like most of the people hereabout, spoke as though he had swallowed a raw potato, and it had stuck in his throat.
Even the North Northumbrian girls talk as if they suffered from chronic tonsillitis, or their tongues were too broad at the base.
When the dinner had been discussed, the dishes washed, and I had had a rest, the horses staggered down the hill and were put in.
I said to Brad, "How much, my friend?"
"Whhateveh yew plhease, sirr; you"gh a ghentleman," replied Brad, trying apparently to swallow his tongue. I gave him two shillings.
No sooner had it been put in his trousers pocket than the coin started off on a voyage of discovery down his leg, and soon popped out on to the road. Brad evidently had sprung a leak somewhere, and for a time the money kept dropping from him. Whenever he moved he "layed" a coin, so to speak, and the last I saw of Brad he was leaning lazily against a fence counting his money.
I remember that near the borders we climbed a long, long hill, and were so happy when we got to the top of it--the horses panting and foaming, and we all tired and thirsty.
The view of the long stretch of blue hills behind as was very beautiful.
Here on the hilltop was an inn, with its gable and a row of stables facing the road, and here on a bit of gra.s.s we drew up, and determined to take the horses out for the midday halt. But we reckoned without our host. The place was called the Cat Inn.
The landlady was in the kitchen, making a huge pie.
No, we could have no stabling. Their own horses would be home in half an hour.
She followed me out.
"Half an hour"s rest," I said, "out of the sun will do my poor nags some good."
"I tell ye, ye canna have it," she snapped.
"Then we can have a bucket or two of water, I suppose?"
"Never a drop. We"ve barely enough for ourselves."
I offered to pay for it I talked almost angrily.
"Never a drop. You"re no so ceevil."
Talking of Northumbrian inns, I remember once having a good laugh.
A buxom young la.s.sie, as fresh as a mountain-daisy, had served me, during a halt, with some ginger-ale.
After drinking and putting the gla.s.s down on the table, I was drying my long moustache with my handkerchief, and looking at the la.s.sie thoughtfully--I trust not admiringly.
"Ah, sir," she said, nodding her head and smiling, "ye need na be wiping your mouth; you"re no goin" to get a kiss from _me_."