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We began our excursion by stopping in a small village belonging to Lord Mulgrave. We wished to get a little information from the clergyman, but he was not at home. I was sorry for it, for Mr. Villiers told me he is one of the last specimens now remaining of Fieldings Parson Adams, sometimes dining with Lord and Lady Mulgrave, and finishing the evening drinking beer in their servants' hall. I saw the house in which the profligate Duke of Buckingham took refuge from the plague, in the time of Charles II. His tenantry were rejoiced to have him among them, as Lord Mulgrave told me, did him all honor and made him as comfortable as possible, and, when he went away, crowded about him and asked when he would come again. ‘With the next plague,’ said the gracious landlord, and rode off.

The next day, at Kirby Moorside, Mr. Ticknor was shown a common-looking house where Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, died, whose death is thus recorded in the parish register of the place: ‘buried in the yeare of our Lord 1687, April ye 17. Gorges uiluas Lord dooke of bookingam,’ etc.,—so carelessly and ignorantly was the death of a statesman, out of date, put on record, even in the midst of his own possessions and tenantry.

About two miles to the northwest of Kirby Moorside, I stopped to see the small but remarkable church of Kirkdale. It stands in a retired and quiet valley, and has undergone considerable repairs; but the Saxon arch of its principal entrance is still surmounted by a sundial, on which there is a plain Saxon inscription, signifying that it was placed there ‘by Orm the son of Gamal, in the days of Edward the King and of Tosti the Earl,’ which brings its date to 1055-65, when Tosti was Earl of Northumberland, and Edward, the Confessor, King.

Three days later they passed through Leeds, where the Messrs. Gott—two of whom Mr. Ticknor had met at York—showed him the wonderful machinery of their great woollen manufactory, with a freedom and openness very unusual; and ‘after resting from this labor,’ he says, ‘I went to dine at Mr. Edward Smyth's, the head of the branch of the Bank of England for Leeds, and brother of Professor Smyth, who is now staying at his house. It was a pleasant, quiet dinner; the professor himself being, as he always is, agreeable, with the utmost simplicity ’

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