of the lake shattered walls of squared stone were visible, and deep in the clear water a broken and narrow causeway might be traced, which once secured to the proprietor of the mansion a safe retreat against any hasty incursion from the restless borderers, who in former times were alternately the plunderers or defenders of their country. The descendants of Randal Rode seemed to be sensible that their lot was cast in securer times, and instead of practising with the bow, or that still more fatal weapon the gun, or with the sword or with the spear, they were collected on a small green plat of ground on the margin of the lake, to the number of twelve or fourteen, indulging in the rustic exercises of wrestling, leaping, throwing the bar, and casting the stone. Several old white-headed men were seated at a small distance on the ground, maidens continually passed backwards and forwards, with pails of milk, or with new-moulded cheese, casting a casual glance at the pastime of the young men—the valley all the while re-murmuring with the din of the various contests.
As we approached a young man, who had thrown the stone—a pebble massy and round—beyond all the marks of his companions, perceived us coming, and came running to welcome the old woman with all the unrestrained joyousness of eighteen. "Welcome, Dame Eleanor Selby, welcome to Fremmet-ha'! For thy repose I have ordered a soft warm couch, and from no fairer hands than those of my own sister, Maude Rode; and for thy gratification, as well as mine own, have I sought far and wide for a famous ballad of the Selbys; but we are fallen on evil days—the memory of our oldest men only yielded me fragments: these I have pieced together, and shall gladly sing it with all the grace I may." "Fair fall thee, youth," said the old woman, pleased at the revival of a traditional rhyme recording the fame of her house; "thy companions are all clods of the valley, no better than the stones they cast, the bars they heave, and the dull earth they leap upon, compared to thee. But the Selbys' blood within thee overcomes that of the Rodes." The young man came close to her ear, and in an interceding whisper said: "It is true, Dame Eleanor Selby, that my father is but a tender of flocks, and nowise comparable to the renowned house of Selby, with whom he had the fortune to intermarry; but, by the height of Skiddaw and the depth of Solway, he is as proud of his churl's blood as the loftiest
