Ferrybridge and Brotherton both have an old-world look. The latter place is famous for the battle fought there between Yorkists and Lancastrians; and as the birthplace of Thomas de Brotherton, the fifth son of King Edward I. The old inns of Ferrybridge recall the prosperous coaching days; but the revival of business on the road which has been brought about by cycle and motor, will have but little effect on this village with a past. The hostelry by the fine stone bridge that gives the place its name, has a past connected with notorious gentlemen of the road, and an entry in an old account-book runs as follows: "A traveller in a gold-laced coat ordered and drank two bottles of wine—doubtless mischief to-night, for the traveller, methinks, is that villain Dick Turpyn." How vividly this recalls that excellent picture by Seymour Lucas, R.A., where a landlord of the Joe Willet type is eyeing, between the whiffs from his long churchwarden, a suspicious guest, who having tasted mine host's vintage has dropped asleep, regardless of the fact that his brace of flintlocks are conspicuously visible.
Between here and Leeds are two fine mansions, Ledston Hall and Kippax Park. The former is a very uncommon type of Elizabethan architecture, almost un-English in character. It is a stone-built house of the time of James I., with Dutch-like gables and narrow square towers. In the reign of Charles I. it belonged to Thomas, Earl of Strafford; but his son, the second earl, sold the estate. Kippax in its way is original in construction, but savours somewhat of Strawberry Hill Gothic. The ancient family of Bland have been seated here since the time of Elizabeth, the direct male line, however, dying out in the middle of the eighteenth century. Sir Thomas Bland was one of the gallant Royalists who defended Pontefract Castle during the Civil War.
A few miles to the north-west is the grand old mansion, Temple Newsam. Like Hatfield House, which in many respects it resembles, it is built of red-brick with stone coigns, and the time-toned warm colour is acceptable in this county of grey stone. It was built like many so-called Elizabethan houses in the reign of James I., and, like Castle Ashby, has around the three sides of the quadrangle a parapet of letters in open stone work which runs as follows: "All glory and praise be given to God the Father, the Son, and Holy Ghost on high, peace on earth, goodwill towards men, honour and true allegiance to our gracious king, loving affections amongst his subjects, health and plenty within this house." The loyal sentiments are not those of Mary Queen of Scots' husband, Lord Darnley, who was born in the earlier house, but of the builder, Sir Anthony Ingram, who bought the estate from the Duke of Lennox. Of all the spacious rooms, the picture gallery is the finest. It is over a hundred feet in length and contains a fine collection of old masters and some remarkable china. Albert Durer's hard and microscopic art is well represented, as well as the opposite extreme in Rembrandt's breadth of style. But the gem of all is a head by Reynolds (of, we think, a Lady Gordon), a picture that connoisseurs would rave about. A small picture of Thomas Ingram is almost identical with that of the Earl of Pembroke we have mentioned at Wentworth Castle. In one of the bedrooms (famous for their tapestry hangings and ancient beds) are full-length portraits of Mary Queen of Scots, Queen Elizabeth, and James I., the first like the well-known portraits at Hardwick and Welbeck. On one of the staircases is an interesting picture of Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans, in a turban, with the favourite spaniel who appears in many of her portraits. She holds in her hand the picture of her lord and master, the duke who was so jealous of her. A new grand staircase with elaborately carved newels, after the style of that at Hatfield, has been added to the mansion recently, and harmonises admirably with its more ancient surroundings.
The park is fine and extensive, but beyond, the signs of the proximity of busy Leeds obtrude and spoil the scenery. We went from here to the undesirable locality of Hunslet in search of a place called Knowsthorpe Hall, but had some considerable difficulty in finding it, for nobody seemed to know it by that name. "You warnts the Island," observed a mining gentleman, a light dawning upon him. So we got nearer by inquiring for "the Island," but then the clue was lost. Thousands of factory hands were pouring out of a very unlikely looking locality, but nobody knew such a place. In desperation we plunged into a primitive coffee-stall, around which black bogies were sitting at their mid-day meal. One of them with more intelligence than the rest knew the place, but couldn't describe how to get to it. "Go up yon road," he said, "and ask for 'Whitakers.'" We followed the advice, and at the turning asked for 'Whitakers.' "Is it the dressmakers ye mean?" was the reply of a small boy to whom we put the question. "Yes," we said, in entire ignorance whether it was the dressmakers or the almanac people. But having got so far there were landmarks that did the rest, and presently a big entrance gate was seen with painted on its side-pillars, "Knowsthorpe Olde Hall."
GATEWAY, KNOWSTHORPE HALL.
But there was no Island, not even a moat. The smoke of Leeds has given the stone walls a coat of black, but otherwise it is not unpicturesque, and would be more so if this original gateway remained. Within the last two years this has been removed as well as the steps leading down from the terrace. The gateway was called the "Stone Chairs," because of the niches or seats on either side of it. It is now, we understand, at Hoare Cross, near Burton-on-Trent. There is much oak within the house, and one panelled room has a very fine carved mantelpiece. The oak staircase, too, is graceful as well as uncommon in design. Close against one side of the house is a stone archway with sculptured figures of the time of James I. on either side of it, and the old lady in charge related the history of this happy pair, how the gentleman had wooed the damsel (a Maynard), but as he had not been to the wars she would have nothing to say to him. Consequently he buckled on his sword and engaged in the nearest battle; and to prove his valour, brought back with him as a love-token the arm which he had lost,—a statement sounding somewhat contradictory. Naturally after that she fell into his—other arm, and accepted him on the spot. This daughter of Mars, of course, now "revisits the glimpses of the moon" with her lover's arm, not around her waist in the ordinary fashion, but in her hand; and those who doubt the story may see her effigy thus represented. But the dignity of this happy pair is somewhat marred, for the only use to which they are now put is to form a stately entrance to—a hen-coop!
There are some interesting old houses between Leeds and Otley, the "Low" Halls of Rawdon and Yeadon, for instance. The former is a good Elizabethan house, and contains some interesting rooms. Low Hall, Yeadon, dates farther back, though its chief characteristics are of the same period. The interior is rich in ancient furniture, and there are some Knellers, which the artist is said to have painted on the spot. The saturnine features of the Merry Monarch are to be seen on one side of the huge Tudor fireplace, and near at hand Nell Gwyn, probably a more correct likeness than a flattering one. There are ancient cabinets, chests, and tables contemporary with the house; and what is more interesting still, the cabinets and chests contain relics of Mary Queen of Scots, and the ruffs and collars that were fashionable three centuries ago. A gallery, wainscoted with large panels of a later period, extends the length of the house; and at the western extremity of it a bedroom, also panelled, possesses a hiding-place or secret cupboard which it would baffle the most persevering to discover, but when the panel is pushed aside, the trick of it looks so very simple. Of the Stuart relics we shall speak presently in referring to Mary Queen of Scots' imprisonment at Bolton Castle.
Passing through Guiseley, which is situated in the midst of worsted mills, with the stocks by a lamp-post in the middle of the street as if they were a present-day necessity, you climb a hill and then come suddenly upon a lovely view, with Otley, "the Switzerland of Yorkshire," lying in the Wharfe valley below. The Chevin Hill is over nine hundred feet in height, and from it you are supposed to see York Cathedral on one side and the mountains of Westmoreland on the other. As the Chevin is the lion of the place, it is the duty of visitors to go to the top. Alpine climbers may enjoy this sort of task, but there are some people who do not even wish to say that they have seen a city some six-and-twenty miles away; but such as these who go to Otley and do not inconvenience themselves would be looked upon by the Otleyites with pity. But there is another thing which the town is proud of too, and that is its lofty Maypole, which, standing in a firm socket of stone, is guarded round by iron rails. There are far more Maypoles in Yorkshire than in any other county, and it is pleasing to find the people are thus conservative; though truly when they get blown down, they don't often trouble themselves enough to put them up again. There are some interesting monuments in the church, one on the right of the chancel to General Fairfax's grandparents, two stately recumbent effigies of James I.'s time. There are mural monuments to the Fawkeses of Farnley Hall (a much altered Elizabethan mansion, containing Cromwellian relics: the Lord Protector's hat, sword, and watch, and Fairfax's drum) and a Vavasour of Weston Hall, who was a philanthropist in his way, for he was buried in wool to promote the local trade. He is represented on his monument neatly packed, and looks so cosy that the bas-relief is suggestive of the undertaker's advertisement, "Why live and be wretched when you can be buried comfortably for five pound ten?" In the vestry there is a splendid set of old oak chairs of which the verger is not a little proud.