"On Cropton Cross there is a cup,
And in that cup there is a sup;
Take that cup and drink that sup,
And set that cup on Cropton Cross top."
There is a cottage on the east side of the street bearing the date 1695, and the motto "Memento Mori," with the initials N.C., but more interesting than this is one on the same side but at the southern end of the village, and standing back more than the rest. This was used as a madhouse at a time well remembered by some of the villagers. People from Pickering and the surrounding district were sent here for treatment, and I am told that the proprietor possessed a prescription for a very remarkable medicine which was supposed to have a most beneficial effect upon his partially demented patients. I am also told that this prescription was given to one, Goodwill of Lastingham, who still possesses it. Cropton is only a short distance from the Roman camps that lie all surrounded and overgrown with dense plantations, so that it is impossible for a stranger to discover their position unless he be lucky enough to find some one close at hand to carefully describe the right track.
West of Pickering lies that long string of villages, generally less than two miles apart, that extends nearly all the way to Scarborough. The first point of interest as one goes towards Thornton-le-Dale from Pickering is the grass-grown site of Roxby Castle, the birthplace of Sir Hugh Cholmley, and the scene, as we know, of those conflicts between the retainers of Sir Roger Hastings and Sir Richard Cholmley. The position must have been a most perfect one for this ancient manor house, for standing a little higher than the level ings and carrs of the marshy land, it was protected from the cold northern winds by the higher ground above. From the top of the steep hill west of the village, Thornton-le-Dale has an almost idyllic aspect, its timeworn roofs of purple thatch and mellowed tiles nestling among the masses of tall trees that grow with much luxuriance in this sheltered spot at the foot of the hills. The village is musical with the pleasant sound of the waters of the beck that flows from Dalby Warren, and ripples along the margins of the roadways, necessitating a special footbridge for many of the cottages. The ancient stocks that stood by the crossroads have unfortunately disappeared, and in their place may be seen the pathetic sight of a new pair that are not even a close copy of the old ones. The old stone cross that stands by the stocks has not been replaced by a modern one, and adds greatly to the interest of the central portion of the village. On the road that leads towards Ellerburne there stand some old cottages generally known as the Poorhouse. They are built on sloping ground, and on the lower side there is a small round-topped tunnel leading into a little cell dug out of the ground beneath the cottages. This little village prison was known as the "Black Hole," and was in frequent use about fifty years ago. An old resident in the village named Birdsall, who is now in the Almshouses, remembers that the last woman who was placed in the Black Hole was released by four men who forcibly broke their way in. The quaint little church of Ellerburne and the few antique cottages that make up the hamlet lie about a mile from Thornton up the steep valley to the north. The hills on either side are crowned with plantations, but farther up the dale appear the bare slopes of the edge of the moors. Allerston lies at right angles to the main road. It is full of quaint stone cottages, and is ornamented by the square tower of the church and the cheerful brook that flows along the road side. The church at Ebberston stands aloof from the village at the edge of the small park belonging to the Hall. The situation is a very pleasant one, and the building attracts one's attention on account of the wide blocked-up arch that is conspicuous in the south wall west of the porch.
The next village westwards is Snainton, a more compact and town-like hamlet than most of the others in the district. The church having been rebuilt in about 1835, the place is robbed of one of its chief attractions.
Brompton has already been mentioned in connection with Wordsworth's wedding. The view over the bright green pastures of the Vale when seen from the church porch is of conspicuous beauty, and the ponds that are numerous in the village help to make picturesque views from many points. The Hall is a large building possessing a ponderous bulk but little charm, and it is only by the kindly aid of the plentiful trees and an extensive growth of ivy that the squire's house does not destroy the rural sweetness of the village.
Wykeham has a new church with a massive spire, but the tower of the old building has fortunately been allowed to remain, and now answers the purpose of a lich-gate. Only a few walls of the abbey now remain in close proximity to Lord Downe's recently enlarged house.
The church of Hutton Buscel is externally one of the most picturesque in the district, and the pretty churchyard on steeply falling ground is a charming feature of the village. The old Hall of the Osbaldestons is only represented by the massive gates that give access to the schools built on the site of the house that was burnt down about a century ago.
A curious story is told of Bishop Osbaldeston, whose monument is to be seen in the church. During his stay at Hutton Buscel he often amused himself with riding about the neighbourhood and conversing with any one he happened to meet upon the road. "One morning he saw a chimney-sweeper's boy laid on the roadside, whom he accosted as follows:--'Well, my lad, where hast thou been this morning?' 'Sweeping your chimnies,' replied the lad. 'And how much hast thou earned then?' said his lordship. 'Fifteen shillings, my lord.' After his lordship had observed that he thought it a very good business, the lad says, 'Yes, my lord, you see that we black coats get good livings for very little work.'"