Incidents like these, which could be multiplied indefinitely, bring a glow of pride to the heart, and a reassuring sense that the degeneration of the race is not proceeding in such wholesale fashion—­in the country districts, at any rate—­as the pessimists would have us believe.

At the northern extremity of Druridge Bay is the little fishing village of Hauxley, with the chimneys and pit-head engines of Ratcliffe and Broomhill Collieries darkening the sky to the south-west.  Passing the Bondicar rocks and rounding the point we enter the “fairway” for Warkworth Harbour and Amble, where a brisk exportation of the coal of the neighbourhood is carried on.

Lying out at sea, opposite Amble coastguard station, the white lighthouse on Coquet Island keeps watch over the entrance to the harbour.  Some of the walls of the monastery, which stood on the island in Saxon days, can now be seen forming part of the dwelling of the lighthouse keeper.  For many generations, too, hermit after hermit went to dwell on this tiny islet, and St. Cuthbert himself is said to have inhabited the little cell at one time.  The island was captured by the Scots in the Civil Wars of King Charles’s reign, and held by them for a time.

The situation of Amble, at the mouth of the Coquet, has been looked upon as convenient from very early days, for there are signs which tell us of a population here at an early period.  Several cist-vaens, or ancient stone coffins, have been found near the town, and a broken Roman altar was unearthed in the neighbourhood.  The monastery which stood here, like that on Holy Island, was, in later times, inhabited by Benedictine monks, who were under the authority of the Prior of Tynemouth.  William the Conqueror gave the then Prior the right to collect the tithes of the little town.

A short distance from Amble, and practically encircled by the Coquet which here makes a wide sweep, we come upon Warkworth, prettiest of villages, combining the beauties of sea-shore and river scenery, and rich in the possession of that romantic castle, the ruins of which carry the mind back to Saxon times; for they stand on the site of an older fortress erected by Ceolwulf, a Saxon King of Northumbria.  He was the patron of Bede, who dedicated his “Ecclesiastical History” to his royal friend.  Ceolwulf built both the fortress and the earliest church at Warkworth, and a few stones of this latter building are still to be seen.  In 737, two years after the death of Bede, this royal Saxon laid aside his kingly state and became a monk on Lindisfarne,

  “When he, for cowl and beads, laid down
  The Saxon battle-axe and crown.”

It was when the castle was bestowed by Edward III. upon Lord Percy of Alnwick that it became, for more than two hundred years, the chief residence of that illustrious family; becoming in the next reign of historical value as the home of that Hotspur whose valour and gallantry made Henry IV. envy the Earl of Northumberland, in that he “should be the father of so blest a son.”  In Act II., Scene 3 of “Henry IV.,” Part II., Shakespeare has laid the scene at Warkworth Castle, where Hotspur’s wife, troubled by her lord’s moody abstraction, tries to win from him the reason of his secret care.  And after the battle of Shrewsbury, Rumour, flying with the news of Hotspur’s death, says:—­