UNDER THE CRAGS 37 



How is it that the Sycamore endures our wintry 

 gales so bravely? There are many well grown 

 Sycamores around, both young and old, with shapely 

 heads, and no swerving to one side. Elms, oaks and 

 ashes all bend away from the west. If we were to 

 judge from the Sycamores alone, we should be inclined 

 to say that the wind never raged along this hill-side. 

 The Sycamore is a true Alpine tree, ascending to 

 over 5,000 feet in Switzerland and other mountainous 

 countries. 



The place is at its best on a fine summer evening. 

 The sun then sets behind Barden Moor, and his rays 

 are reflected to us from a sickle-shaped bend of the 

 river. The low, square church-tower is bathed in 

 ruddy light. On such an evening it is delightful to 

 sit upon our terrace and watch the colours on the 

 hills change and fade, till the long ridges of moorland 

 stand out black against the still luminous sky. 



Some faint historic flavour clings to Denton, a little 

 village across the river, for it was one of the homes of 

 the Fairfaxes. Sir Thomas Fairfax chanced to be 

 born here in 1612, his father then usually dwelling in 

 a house which still stands in the adjoining valley of 

 the Washburn. The old hall came into the hands of 

 a family of Leeds clothiers, who rebuilt it in 1760. The 

 present Denton Hall is handsome and well-placed, 

 but has no historical associations. Middleton Hall 

 is a manor-house of a kind not uncommon in York- 

 shire. Though not remarkable in itself, it is fortunate 

 in its commanding position, in the woods which form 

 a background to it, and in the sloping lawns which 

 stretch from its door to the Wharfe. Not in sight, 



