Efer in the North, I cannot tellen where.”
The spot is, however, pretty clearly identified otherwise by Chaucer himself, the dialect he uses in this tale in connection with the scholars bearing a close resemblance to the Langstrothdale folk-speech. It is a speech deserving the attention of the philologist, agreeing as it does in many of its peculiarities with early English forms.
The head waters of the Wharfe lie far out of the beaten track, in a district so broken up into hilly grandeur, and commanding from its heights so many fine glimpses into the dales “where deep and low the hamlets lie,” as to form a fitting introduction to the river that in its course yields so much beauty and romance. At Beckermonds, “the mouths of the becks,” two small streams unite, and from here the Wharfe passes downwards into Kettlewelldale. Hubberholme, the first village on the river of any note, is supposed to be of Danish origin, and is one of the oldest cluster of houses in this part of the country, possessing a church, dedicated to St. Michael, the history of which is popularly supposed to go back to the time of Paulinus. A short distance below Hubberholme lies Buckden, in a delightful setting of scenery. Then comes Starbotton, a village taking its name from a stream that runs through it, and below is Kettlewell, the best starting point for Upper Wharfedale, and the town from which this section of the river’s course takes its name. Kettlewell figures in Domesday as Chetelwell, and is said by some authorities to be derived from “the weiler or dwelling of Chetel.” A Norman church of an exceedingly simple pattern remained here until the beginning of the present century, when the existing edifice took its place, only the old font remaining as a memorial of the ancient structure. The town stands at the foot of Great Whernside (2,310 feet) and close to it also is Buckden Pike (2,304 feet). Magnificent views may be obtained from both heights. But one need go no further than the centre of the bridge at Kettlewell to find delightful glimpses of the course of the Wharfe, both east and west. The river at this point comes down with a great rush, the descent from its source, a little over ten miles, exceeding six hundred feet. Two miles or so south of Kettlewell is the well-known, although not easily found, Dowkabottom Cave, perhaps the most interesting of the many openings into the limestone formation in North-West Yorkshire. The entrance to the cave is on a level terrace on the mountain slope, at a point 1,250 feet above the sea. Five chambers and several passage-ways make up the cave, in which are many curious natural formations caused by the percolation of the water through the limestone. The scene inside is singularly weird and fascinating. But the Dowkabottom Cave is more than a curiosity. It was one of the homes of primitive man, and it seems to have been a place of shelter also in the Brito-Roman period. Bones and skulls of animals were found on the surface when the cave was discovered, and since then there have been scientific examinations of the interior, with the result that human skeletons have been unearthed, together with the bones of the wolf, the wild boar, the horse, the red deer, sheep, and other animals. Amongst the articles of domestic use found were bone pins and ornaments belonging to the primeval occupation, and bronze weapons, armlets, rings, coins, etc., of the Brito-Roman days. The theory as to the last-mentioned articles is that the inhabitants of the district found shelter here for a time after the departure of the Romans, when the Northern tribes, held no longer in check, came down into the Craven country. To account for the loose bones, it has been surmised that the wolf may have found a safe den in this cave long after it was driven out of other parts of England.
THE COURSE OF THE WHARFE.
Returning to the Wharfe, and following the river on its way from Kettlewell, Coniston is reached—a picturesque village, with a maypole, trim garden ground in front of most of the houses, and a church which, according to Whitaker, is the most ancient building in Craven. Since Whitaker’s time the church has been much improved, but it retains many of its ancient features. From Coniston it is a short walk across country to Kilnsey, where is a grand stretch of overhanging limestone, “a promontory,” says Phillips, “of the primeval sea loch, which is now the green valley of the Wharfe.” The crag is nearly half a mile in extent, and rises at its highest part, whence there is a fine view, to 165 feet. A beautifully wooded walk of three miles leads from Coniston to Grassington, where at one time a good deal of lead was obtained and smelted. Here is what is said to be the oldest bridge on the river. What became of some earlier bridges on the same stream is told in an entry in the church books of Otley, under date 1673. On the 11th of September in that year there was “a wonderful inundation of waters in the northern parts,” and on that occasion “this river of Wharfe, never known to be so big within the memory of man, overturned Kettlewell Bridge, Burnsey Bridge, Barden Bridge, Bolton Bridge, Ilkley Bridge, and Otley Bridge.” It also swept away certain fulling mills of wood, and “carried them down whole, like to a ship.” And when the flood had passed, “it left neither corn nor cattle on the coast thereof.”
SKIPTON CASTLE, FROM ONE OF THE TOWERS.
Close to Grassington is Threshfield, where there are several old buildings, and the Grammar School in which Dr. Whitaker, the historian of Craven, received his early education. Then comes Linton, where in the old time every woman in the place “could spin flax from the distaff, or rock as it was called, and could card or spin wool from the piece.” Linton, in those days, was a veritable Arcadia in the hills, for here there was neither poor’s rate nor public-house, and almost every housekeeper had his “three acres and a cow,” or what was tantamount thereto. There has been a change in these conditions, but Linton has not lost its look of prosperity and comfort. Close to the village are what have been called the Falls of the Wharfe—a rocky break in the river, forming a fine study for the artist. Below Linton lies Hebden, a village whose character and position are well expressed in its name—heb, high; and dene, a valley; and across the river at this point lies Thorpe. At Thorpe we are on the road leading to Rylstone, the seat of the Nortons, who risked and lost so much in the “Rising of the North,” 1569—
“Thee, Norton, wi’ thine eight good sonnes,