Grassmere Font.
NOTES ON A TOUR, CHIEFLY PEDESTRIAN, FROM SKIPTON IN CRAVEN, YORKSHIRE, TO KESWICK, IN CUMBERLAND.
“I hate the man who can travel from Dan to Beersheba and say ’tis all barren.”—Sterne
July 14, 1827. Left Skipton for Keswick. The road from Skipton to Burnsal exhibits some romantic scenery, which the muse of Wordsworth has made classic ground. About half a mile from Rilston, on the right-hand side of the road, are the ruins of Norton tower, one of the principal scenes in the poem of the “White Doe of Rylstone.” Having visited the tower before, I did not think it worth while to reascend the immense precipice on which it stands.
15th, Sunday. Previously to the commencement of the service at Burnsal church, I sketched the “lich-gate,” which differs considerably from the beautiful one of Beckenham, in Kent; a [drawing] whereof is in my friend Mr. Hone’s Table Book. The manner wherein the gate turns on its pivot is rather curious, and will be best exemplified by the [drawing] above. The church, an old structure, apparently of the reign of Henry VII., is pleasantly situated on “the banks of the crystal Wharfe.” While attending divine service, one or two things struck me as remarkable. The church has an organ, on which two voluntaries were played; one after the psalms for the day, and the other after the second lesson; but during the singing of the metrical psalms the organ was silent. Instead of it two or three strange-looking countrymen in the organ gallery raised an inharmonious noise with a small fiddle, a flute, and a clarinet. Why do the churchwardens allow this? The gallery of the church should not be allowed to resemble the interior of an ale-house at a village feast. The church would have looked better had it been cleaner: the pew wherein I sat was covered with cobwebs. The business of the churchwardens seemed to me to consist rather in thumping the heads of naughty boys than in looking after the state of the church.
Afternoon, same day. At Linton, about two miles up the river, arrived during the time of service. This church has suffered much from the “beautifiers;” who, amongst other equally judicious improvements, have placed a Venetian window over the altar of the Gothic edifice: the present incumbent, the Rev. Mr. Coulthurst, is about to remove it. The altar rails were covered with garlands made of artificial flowers. Church garlands were formerly made of real flowers. They are borne before the corpses of unmarried young women. I have heard an old woman in Durham sing the following stanza, which evidently alludes to the custom:—
When I am dead, before I be buried,
Hearken ye maidens fair, this must ye do—
Make me a garland of marjoram and lemon thyme,
Mixed with the pansy, rosemary, and rue.
The practice of bearing the garlands is still very common in the country churches in Craven.
In the church-yard is the following inscription on a stone, date 1825! The march of intellect is surely here proceeding at a rapid pace!