THE BEAUTY OF BUTTERMERE; OR, TRAGEDY IN REAL LIFE, 197 THE BORDER FREEBOOTERS; OR, A FIGHT IN BORROWDALE, 222 JOSSY WITH WHIPS. A PARISH CHARACTER, 226 EMMA AND SIR EGLAMORE. A LEGEND OF ULLSWATER, 228 THE BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN. A LEGEND OF THE VALE OF ST. JOHN, 234 TALES AND LEGENDS OF ENGLISH LAKES. HELWISE; OR, THE ILL-FATED LOVERS: A TALE OF MUNCASTER HALL. Though ample testimony is borne to the simple and engaging manners of the Lake residents, I must confess there is a little Vandalism among them. They do not feel that generous love and veneration for the glorious remains of other years which ought to warm the breast of every Englishman. My uncle was indignant at the inattention paid to the scattered ruins of Penrith Castle. "The Turks," he observed, "could only have turned the ruined habitations of the Christian nobles into cattle-sheds and pigstyes!" We sat ourselves down at the edge of the moat, where the disgusting inroads of modern improvements would least obtrude themselves on our view, to contemplate the ruined strength and fallen grandeur of our ancestors. We were scarcely seated when an elderly gentleman, on whose countenance a cheerful good nature was visibly impressed, approached us. My uncle invited him to take a seat on our green sofa, with which invitation he smilingly complied. My uncle, whose ideas were at least two centuries old, opened the conversation by an allusion to those times when our old northern castles shone in all their splendour; and their inhabitants possessed their original power. "How much of their outward dignity have the higher classes lost," observed my uncle, "since literature and commerce have shed their genial influence on our favoured isle." "Yes," replied the stranger; "and how much have the lower classes been elevated since that period. The ranks of society are less distinct; and the system of equality is perhaps as nearly realised as the well-being of society could admit." "In some respects it may be so," said my father; "but I think that we might yet dispense with some of that pride which separates man from his brother man." "If one may believe report," said my sister, "there was more love in former times than there is now. People were kinder then; men were more faithful; and unions in general more happy than they are at present." "I can tell you a story on that subject," replied the stranger, "which will be interesting to the young people, and I hope no way disagreeable to old ones. For I count the person who cannot sympathise in a love story to be unfit for any social duty, and calculated for nothing but the cloister or the cell."