During the summer-time, about six o'clock every afternoon, the cow-herds go out with great tin cases slung over their shoulder, uttering a shrill cry to call the cattle of the moors. Rarely have they any trouble, for the cows are so accustomed to the hour that they would return of themselves, even if there were no call.
The cottages are seldom on a level with the road, standing either above or below it. I was invited into one which lay considerably below the road-side, inhabited by a couple who had evidently married late in life. Spotlessly clean was their parlour, chairs, table, and floor, bright as hand polish and soap and water could make them. There was the tall mahogany clock-case, made at the time of the wedding. There, too, was a shorter clock and a barometer. Dazzling was the burnished steel of the great fire range, notwithstanding the good fire which burnt in the grate, though it was only just August. From the ceiling hung suspended long planks of cedar wood, whereon they stowed away their oatmeal cakes and other commodities. Instead of pictures, the walls were ornamented with numerous mourning-cards, framed and glazed. They placed me in a great rocking-chair, and while the farmer sat opposite me in another, the good wife fetched a glass of milk and some oatcake. The farmer thought things wonderfully improved in the dale since his childhood; hardly any land was then enclosed, all was open moor. For even these quiet spots see great changes. The tide of humanity is ever ebbing and flowing. Thus, twelve hundred years ago, the Swale must have had a vast population on its banks if it be true that Paulinus baptized 10,000 converts in its waters. Now human beings are so scarce that a visitor is quite a curiosity. Immediately I entered the village the news was transmitted to the minister that "a stranger in mannerly claes had come to Keld;" and in the evening a number of men and boys, who had assembled close by the house at which I was staying, were evidently discussing my apparition. Every now and then a figure passed by my window, casting a stealthy glance within, so that I thought it best for my own peace of mind and theirs to go out and make a clean breast of it.
After the morning's deluge sunset brought a lovely evening, and I had a glimpse of what the dales might be when all was propitious. To the left, Kisdon, a lofty hill, rose to the height of 1600 feet
