Rambles in Wensleydale and Swaledale,

J. Routh, Hawes,

1894

Rambles in Wensleydale and Swaledale, J. Routh, Hawes,1894

(courtesy of the Dales Countryside Museum, Hawes)

The following is a transcription from the above Book:

pp. 5-6 Transcribed from Rambles in Wensleydale And Swaledale, 1894 - J. Routh, Hawes

p. 5 ..., and still further in this direction, across the Bishopdale beck, beautifully embowered among the trees, is Sorrelsikes Hall the residence of Mrs. Hutton. Here lived the famous Mrs. Montagu, who entertained the Blue Stocking Club at her London residence.Leaving the village [West Burton] by the Bishopdale road, I arrived at a schoolhouse (Three Lane Ends)*; going straight forward, I passed the village of Newbiggin, which lies on the left, and a mile or so further is the Rookery (residence of Mr. R. Lodge). ...

 

*The pedestrian can, if he chooses, here return to the stationvia Thoralby and Heaning Falls. Return journey, five miles.I returned to Thoralby - with its old May-pole - its two public houses and two chapels, reminding me of the well-known couplet made use of by teetotal lectures:-

"Wherever God erects a house of prayer The devil builds a chapel there."...

p.6... and, some 200 yards or so nearer the station, crossed a small brook, which I followed up to a some pretty falls half-a-mile further up the stream. These are known as Heaning Falls. Here a small mountain stream flows over a shelving rock, broken on seven successive ledges, down into a steep gill, which is overshadowed by a densely-wooded plantation. About 100 years ago, Maude wrote concerning it:- "This curious fall of water runs in a low steep gill, which is difficult to access, and when viewed from the bottom the stream appears like a silver chain, whose highest link seems connected with the clouds and , descending through a display of hovering branches and shading foliage, which, in proportion to the thicker or thinner weaving of the boughs, now bursts and then twinkles in a manner most amazingly captivating. In a few words, the most copious language must fail in any attempt to describe it's unutterable charms when seen at a season to allow it a force of water."...

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