accept.  So she consulted her father on the matter, who advised her to accept only the “Bravest of the Brave,” or the one who could prove himself to excel all others in martial skill.  Her father therefore proclaimed a tournament, which was to take place, in the words of an ancient writer, at “Peverell’s Place in the Peke,” inviting all young men of noble birth to compete for the hand of the beautiful “Mellet,” whose dowry was to be Whittington Castle.  The contest, as might be supposed, was a severe one, and was won by a knight bearing a maiden shield of silver with a peacock for his crest, who vanquished, amongst others, a Knight of Burgundy and a Prince of Scotland.  He proved to be Fitzwarren, and the Castle of Whittington passed to him together with his young bride.

[Illustration:  CASTLETON ROCKS.]

Our friend was surprised when we told him we knew that castle and the neighbourhood very well, and also a cottage there where Dick Whittington was born, who afterwards became Sir Richard de Whittington, Lord Mayor of London.  We again discussed the question of the desirability of returning home, as we were now much nearer than when at Furness Abbey, where we had nearly succumbed to home-sickness before; but my brother said he should continue the journey alone if I gave in, and as he kindly consented again to carry all the luggage, I agreed to complete the journey with him.

[Illustration:  THE WINNATS, CASTLETON.]

I walked down the hill supported by my brother on one side and our friend on the other, and returned to the latter’s home for tea, after which our host showed us some remarkable spar stones—­dog-tooth spar we were told was their name—­found in the lead mines, whose white crystals glistened in the light, and I could see by the covetous look in my brother’s eyes that he was thinking of the rockeries at home.  His look was also seen by our worthy host, for he subsequently presented him with the stones, which my brother afterwards declared were given to him as a punishment for coveting his neighbour’s goods.  It was now time to fulfil our engagement to accompany our friend to the Wesleyan Chapel and to go through what proved one of the most extraordinary services we ever attended.  Our host and hostess went with us, but they sat in a pew, while we three sat on a form.  We remained for the “Prayer Meeting,” which the minister announced would be held after the usual service.  We had read that the “Amens” of the early Christians could be heard at long distances, but we never attended a meeting where the ejaculations were so loud and fervent as they were here.  Each man seemed to vie with his neighbour as to which could shout the louder, and every one appeared to be in great earnest.  The exclamations were not always “Amens,” for we heard one man shout “Aye!” at exactly the same moment as another man shouted “Now!” and if the Leader had not been possessed of a stentorian voice he would not at times have been