The men of the North were always warlike, and when in the year 1688, in the time of James II, a rumour was circulated that a large French Army had landed on the coast of Yorkshire, a great number of men assembled on the outskirts of the town and were waiting there ready for the call to arms, when news came that it was a false alarm.  Of course this event had to be recorded by the local poet, who wrote: 

  In eighty-eight, was Kirby feight. 
    When nivver a man was slain;
  They ate the’r mey’t, an’ drank the’r drink,
    An’ sae com’ merrily heame again.

We were sorry we could not stay longer in the neighbourhood of Kirkby Lonsdale, as the scenery in both directions along the valley of the River Lune was very beautiful.  As we crossed the bridge over it we noticed an old stone inscribed: 

  Fear God
  Honer the
  King 1633,

and some other words which we could not decipher.  The bridge was rather narrow, and at some unknown period had replaced a ford, which was at all times difficult to cross, and often dangerous, and at flood-times quite impassable, as the river here ran between rocks and across great boulders; it was, however, the only ready access to the country beyond for people living in Kirkby Lonsdale.  One morning the inhabitants awoke to find a bridge had been built across this dangerous ford during the night, and since no one knew who had built it, its erection was attributed to his Satanic Majesty, and it was ever afterwards known as the Devil’s Bridge.

The bridge was very narrow, and, although consisting of three arches, one wide and the others narrow, and being 180 feet long, it was less than twelve feet wide, and had been likened to Burns’ Auld Brig o’ Ayr,

  With your poor narrow footpath of a street. 
  Where twa wheelbarrows tremble when they meet.

The country people had a tradition that it was built in windy weather by the Devil, who, having only one apron full of stones, and the breaking of one of his apron-strings causing him to lose some of them as he flew over Casterton Fell, he had only enough left to build a narrow bridge.

[Illustration:  DEVIL’S BRIDGE, KIRKBY LONSDALE.]

Another legend states that “Once upon a time there lived a queer old woman whose cow and pony pastured across the river and had to cross it on their way to and from home.  The old woman was known as a great cheat.  One dark and wet night she heard her cow bellow, and knew that she was safely across the ford; but as the pony only whined, she thought that he was being carried away by the flood.  She began to cry, when suddenly the Devil appeared, and agreed to put up a bridge that night on conditions named in the legend: 

  “To raise a bridge I will agree. 
  That in the morning you shall see. 
  But mine for aye the first must be
     That passes over. 
  So by these means you’ll soon be able
  To bring the pony to his stable. 
     The cow her clover.”