But the story of ’a parson-publican’ was soon conveyed to the Archdeacon of the diocese, who at the next visitation endeavoured to find out the truth of the matter.  Mr. Carter explained the circumstances, and showed that, far from being a source of disorder, his wife’s public-house was an influence for good.  ‘I take down my violin,’ he continued, ’and play them a few tunes, which gives me an opportunity of seeing that they get no more liquor than necessary for refreshment; and if the young people propose a dance, I seldom answer in the negative; nevertheless, when I announce time for return, they are ever ready to obey my commands.’  The Archdeacon appears to have been a broad-minded man, for he did not reprimand Mr. Carter at all; and as there seems to have been no mention of an increased stipend, the parson-publican must have continued this strange anomaly.

It is difficult to say whether the public-house was conducted in the crypt beneath the church or not.  I am inclined to think that Mrs. Carter’s inn was the present ‘Blacksmith’s Arms,’ but there is distinct evidence for stating that cock-fighting used to take place secretly in the crypt.  The writings of the Venerable Bede give a special interest to Lastingham, for he tells us how King Oidilward requested Bishop Cedd to build a monastery there.  The Saxon buildings that appeared at that time have gone, so that the present church cannot be associated with the seventh century.  No doubt the destruction was the work of the Danes, who plundered the whole of this part of Yorkshire.  The church that exists to-day is of Transitional Norman date, and the beautiful little crypt, which has an apse, nave and aisles, is coeval with the superstructure.

The situation of Lastingham in a deep and picturesque valley surrounded by moors and overhung by woods is extremely rich.

Further to the west there are a series of beautiful dales, watered by becks whose sources are among the Cleveland Hills.  On our way to Ryedale, the loveliest of these, we pass through Kirby Moorside, a little town which has gained a place in history as the scene of the death of the notorious George Villiers, second Duke of Buckingham, on April 17, 1687.  The house in which he died is on the south side of the King’s Head, and in one of the parish registers there is the entry under the date of April 19th, ‘Gorges viluas, Lord dooke of Bookingam, etc.’  Further down the street stands an inn with a curious porch, supported by turned wooden pillars, bearing the inscription: 

  ’Anno:  Dom 1632 October xi
   William Wood’