312 A Walk from 



among the bovines, must have "been a shabby, scraggy 

 quadruped. Poor Europa ! it would have been bad 

 enough if she had been run away with by a " Lord 

 Cobham." But the like of him did not live in her 

 day. 



After going through the housings for cattle, the 

 steward took me to the Hall, a grand old mansion full 

 of English history, especially of the Commonwealth 

 period. Indeed, one large apartment was a museum 

 of relics of that stirring and stormy time. There, 

 against the antique, carved wainscotting, hung the 

 great broad-brim of Oliver Cromwell, with a circum- 

 ference nearly as large as an opened umbrella, heavy, 

 coarse and grim. There hung a sword he wielded in 

 the fiery rifts of battle. There was Fairfax's sword 

 hanging by its side; and his famous war-drum lay 

 beneath. Its leather lungs, that once shouted the 

 charge, were now still and frowsy, with no martial 

 speech left in them. 



Mr. Fawkes owns about 15,000 acres of land, in- 

 cluding most of the valley of Otley, and extending 

 back almost to Harrowgate. He farms about 450 

 acres, but grows no wheat. Indeed, I did not see a 

 field of it in a circle of five miles' diameter. 



I reached Harrowgate in the dusk of the evening, 

 and found the town alive with people mostly in the 



