120 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



An iron foot-bridge, which faced the south and principal front of 

 the house, alone connects the island with the park. If we cross over 

 to the mainland, and proceed northwards along the east bank of the 

 lake, we have, between our right hand and the plantation which 

 skirts the park, a broad, grassy slope, only broken by a row of elms, 

 the remains of a former avenue. Beneath the roots of the southern- 

 most tree lie the bones of the wanderer's grandfather, a brave old 

 Jacobite squire, who suffered imprisonment and fine in the Stuart 

 cause, and was further impoverished on Doncaster race-course. In 

 the days of their prosperity, the Watertons were buried at Methley, 

 where several of their monuments are still to be seen, in a chapel 

 built and endowed by one of the family. After the reverses entailed 

 on them by the Reformation, they were interred in another chapel 

 of their own in the chancel of Sandal church. But this hardy 

 cavalier preferred that his body should rest beneath the fresh turf 

 and spreading trees of his own demesne. 



Continuing our route, we reach a dip in the land. Near the 

 lake the hollow was left undrained to form a small swamp, which 

 was tenanted by peewits, and in winter was never without its wisp of 

 snipe. To the right of the swamp is a wood, which extends a long 

 way down the park, and contained the heronry, numbering, at 

 Waterton's death, more than forty nests. The rise in the ground 

 beyond the plover swamp is called the Ryeroyd Bank. I have seen 

 it black with rooks, and at another time blue with wood-pigeons, 

 and of these latter birds Waterton, and Sir William Pilkington, with 

 the aid of a telescope, once counted five thousand. Further on was 

 some ploughed land, from which there was a view of the village of 

 Wintersett, and here, while clover and oats were being sown, the 

 squire, sitting upon a sack, related the story of the Wintersett black- 

 smith, one of those pleasant local traditions which are told to account 

 for the rise of self-made men. "When De Ruyter sailed up the 

 Thames, and burnt Tilbury Fort, the king offered ,20,000 to any- 

 one who would make a chain to stretch across the river. A black 

 smith's lad in this neighbourhood said to his master, * Eh ! measter, 

 I wish thou'dt let me make t' chain/ 'Nay, lad, but thou couldst 

 not/ answered the blacksmith. ' Yea, measter, I think I can, if 

 thou 'It let me/ replied the lad. ' Well, lad, so I will, and lend thee 



