[Illustration:  KIRKBY LONSDALE CHURCH.]

In the meantime we had decided to visit Fountains Abbey, so, crossing the River Kent, we walked nine miles along a hilly road over the fells, which were about 800 feet above sea-level.  We stopped at a place called Old Town for breakfast, for which our walk through the sharp clear air on the fells had given us an amazing appetite.  We then walked quickly down the remaining three miles to Kirkby Lonsdale, passing on our way the beautiful grounds and residence of the Earl of Bective.  At the entrance to the town we came to the school, and as the master happened to be standing at the door, we took the opportunity of asking him some particulars about Kirkby Lonsdale and our farther way to Fountains Abbey.  He was a native of Scotland, and gave us some useful and reliable information, being greatly interested in the object of our journey.  We found Kirkby Lonsdale to be quite a nice old-fashioned town with a church dedicated to St. Mary—­a sign, we thought, of its antiquity; the interior had been recently restored by the Earl of Bective at a cost of about L11,000.  An old board hanging up in the church related to one of the porches, on which was painted a crest and shield with the date 1668, and the following words in old English letters: 

  This porch by y’ Banes first builded was,
    (Of Heighholme Hall they weare,)
  And after sould to Christopher Wood
  By William Banes thereof last heyre. 
  And is repayred as you do see
  And sett in order good
  By the true owner nowe thereof
  The foresaid Christopher Wood.

There was also painted in the belfry a rhyming list of the “ringers’ orders”: 

  If to ring ye do come here,
  You must ring well with hand and ear;
  Keep stroke and time and go not out,
  Or else you’ll forfeit without doubt. 
  He that a bell doth overthrow
  Must pay a groat before he go;
  He that rings with his hat on,
  Must pay his groat and so begone.

  He that rings with spur on heel,
  The same penalty he must feel. 
  If an oath you chance to hear,
  You forfeit each two quarts of beer. 
  These lines are old, they are not new. 
  Therefore the ringers must have their due.

   N.B.—­Any ringer entering a peal of six pays his shilling.

The first two lines greatly interested my brother, whose quick ear could distinguish defects when they occurred in the ringing of church bells, and he often remarked that no ringer should be appointed unless he had a good ear for music.

There were one or two old-fashioned inns in the town, which looked very quaint, and Kirkby Old Hall did duty for one of them, being referred to by the rhymester “Honest” or “Drunken Barnaby” in his Latin Itinerary of his “Travels in the North”: 

  I came to Lonsdale, where I staid
  At Hall, into a tavern made. 
  Neat gates, white walls—­nought was sparing,
  Pots brimful—­no thought of caring;
  They eat, drink, laugh; are still mirth-making,
  Nought they see that’s worth care-taking.