A decayed fane—Birds in church—An old manorial hall—Curious creations of the carver's brain—The grotesque in excelsis—The old formal garden—Sketching from memory—The beauty of the Wolds—Lovely Lincolnshire!—Advice heeded!—A great character—A headless horseman—Extremes meet—"All's well that ends well."
From Somersby we drove to Bag Enderby. What is the meaning of the curious and distinguishing prefix "bag" it is difficult to divine; it cannot be from "bog," for the hamlet is in the hills and there are no bogs about, nor are there likely to have been any even in the prehistoric times. It might perhaps, but doubtfully, be derived from the Anglo-Saxon "boc," a beech, but this is merely unprofitable guessing. The old church here is very picturesque, externally at any rate, but somewhat dilapidated when we were there, and in want of repair. Like that of Somersby its tower is scarred and weather-worn and picturesque with the picturesqueness of strong decay; by this I mean that though the face of the soft sand-*stone of which it is built has crumbled away in places so as to give it a pathetic look of untold age, still the decay is merely on the surface, and the softer portions of the stone-work having suffered, the strongest and most enduring remain. The weather-
