The King's Head we found a comfortable, well-managed, old-time inn, an excellent headquarters for excursions to the many interesting points of the vicinity. We reached here early in the afternoon, affording us time for a fifteen-mile jaunt up the Tees Valley to the High Force--they call a waterfall the "force" in Yorkshire--the largest cataract in England, we were told. It is situated in a lovely dell, and while the flood of white water pouring over the jagged cliff into the brown boiling lake below is pretty and striking, it has nothing awe inspiring or majestic about it. True, at the time, the Tees was at lowest ebb; a long drouth had reduced it to a fourth its normal volume and of course we did not see the High Force at its best. Every spot of interest in the Kingdom has its inn and it was in the farmyard of the High Force Hotel that we left the car. On returning from the falls, a deflated tire prolonged our stay, encouraging acquaintance with the hotel people. The landlord, who out of the hotel season was apparently a farmer, became friendly and communicative, especially desiring us to deliver a message to his son, whom he seemed to think we might easily locate in America. Then he led us into the hotel, where a framed page from his visitors' book showed that the Princess Ena--now Queen Victoria of Spain--and members of her suite had been guests at the High Force Hotel. The two great events in the old man's life seemed to be the success that he considered his son was making in the States and the royal visit to his inn. I do not know which gave him the greater satisfaction. We returned to Barnard Castle following the road north of the Tees--we had come to Middleton on the south side of the river--and we had an almost continual view of the winding stream and its pleasantly diversified valley. It was a peaceful rural landscape, glimmering in the twilight--the silver thread of the river running through it--that greeted our view during our swift flight along the upland road. It was the end of a rather trying day and it seemed hardly possible that we had sojourned in Old Whitby only the night before--so different was the scene and so varied our experiences; still, the distance in miles is not great. The restful quiet of the King's Head and its well-served dinner were indeed a welcome close to the wanderings of the day. XI LAKELAND AND THE YORKSHIRE DALES