A Few Days On The Yorkshire Moors.

that rich hymn of Mendelssohn ' s . Our reverie , however , is soon brought to a conclusion by a change in the speed , " And ruddy roofs and chimney-tops appear Of busy Leeds , upwafting to the clouds , " and we find ourselves sliding into the " clamour and clangour " of the New

Station . A scene of confusion ensues , and after several inquiries , we leave our train and enter another , puffing and panting-, to take us to Ilkley . A whistle and a shriek , and we are off , jiast the smoky factories and furnaces , and roofs of croAvded houses , once more into the open country . We just manage to get a beautiful glimpse at the picturesque ancl ivy-clad ruins of Kirkstall Abbey ; a mere shell left to teach the sad story of its past grandeur

and monastic opulence . Another half-hour ' s shunting and stopping , ancl we are at the end of our journey ; posting sundry pre-writtten epistles as to the safe translation of our respective bodies , AA e make the best of our way to one of the modern hy dropathic establishments . On arriving , we soon make the acquaintance of one of the proprietors , and are allotted to room No . 75 , the only difficulty being bow to remember the way back through a maze of

staircases and passages . The proprietors conduct all arrangements in a methodical manner , ancl no pains are spared to do all for the comfort of the pleasureseekers ( by far the greater number ) ancl the invalids . At supper we witness proofs of the invigorating climate in the appetites of both sexes , ancl we ourselves do justice to the meal . At the other end of the room amusements are being carried on in programme order , to enliven the tedium of the evening and establish some sort of social sympathy . Dancing occupies most of the time , ancl some very fair performers are exercising the art of " the light fantastic toe . "

" All goes merry as a marriage bell , " and we are getting ] 3 retty well acquainted Avith the physiognomy of the visitors , Avhen—a sudden diminution in the li ght warns us that bed-time approaches . The interruption is hardly Byronic , but sufficiently abrupt to cause a sigh of regret that the lively scene has closed so soon . Order is heaven ' s first lawancl we must submitthe only alternative being to seek a

, , repetition in the arms of Morpheus . Next morning we wake early , and ramble through the village before breakfast , to increase our appetites , ancl find the weather very cold but invigorating . Ilkley village is simplicity itself , prettily situated on the banks of " swift Wkarfe ; " the churchyard contains three ancient Saxon crosses , with heads ancl figures carved on them , which the antiquary delights to investigate . Some of the tomb-stones bear curious

inscriptions . After breakfast , announced by the not unmusical tattoo of a gong , we climb up Rumbles Moor , to Avhere sparkles a gurgling stream of the pure , cold water for which this nei ghbourhood is famed . The panorama below is very beautiful , aud the air bracing , ancl the morning is Avell spent in healthy exercise on the moor , though it is rather boggy in some places . Our feelings are somewhat akin to those of the writer of the following appropriate verse : —

How pleasant tor a little while to leave The stifling atmosphere of crowded streets , And breathe the air these lovely vales receive From heath-clad moors with their ten thousand sweets Oh , how refreshing everything that greets The jaded sight—Avhether of hills so hold Or meadows broad , -within whose dark retreats Wharfe wends his way like Euphrates of old . "

And when tired of sauntering in the valleys" How grand on Ilkley ' s heights , ' mid crag and fern , " to climb and enjoy the prospect gained by the exertion .