io6 Summer 



tions. On the left hand is ' the deep and sullen Till,' 

 flowing under historic bridges like Twizel, and past 

 such well-known Border fortresses as Etal and Ford ; 

 on the right are the broad blue Cheviots, with dark 

 Flodden close at hand, and as worthy of its epithet 

 to-day as in the time of Scott, and Yeavering Bell 

 towering in the distance. There is hardly a castle 

 which has not been the scene of a foray, hardly a 

 field whose name does not testify to the baptism of 

 battle. From Wooler, where the prudent traveller 

 will bait his steed and order dinner, the distance 

 is about seven miles, whence the way leads across 

 the Till by a rickety bridge and Wooler Water by a 

 ford. If the visitor is so unfortunate as to arrive at 

 Chillingham in the midst of the pic-nic season, he will 

 probably have time enough to admire the old church 

 and Lord Tankerville's castle before the keeper is at 

 liberty to show him over the park. 



But the last time I was there it was towards even- 

 ing, and the castle shadows had lengthened, and a 

 gloom was gathering among the trees in the park. 

 It is then or at early dawn you most vividly realise 

 that the cattle are wild in the fullest sense of the term. 

 During the day they lie about in secluded corners of 

 the park, or they rest in the woods ; but, like the hare 

 and the rabbit, they begin to move about when dusk 

 comes. And the most interesting thing about them 

 now is their habits. With their appearance Sir Edwin 

 Landseer and other artists in ink as well as paint 



