little boy as they were crossing the weir-stones on Palm Sunday on their way to matins at Saint Mary’s. By this deed, which took place in the fourteenth century, a feud that had lasted two generations was brought to an end, as was likewise the family name of Ealand, the male line of which became extinct on the death of Sir John’s only boy, the child who shared his father’s fate on the weir-stones. A few miles beyond Ealand, on the hill slope above the Calder, stand the stately groves of Kirklees Priory, so well known, as we have seen, to the gay Sir Adam de Copley. At Kirklees, as many readers are aware, died the most chivalrous of bandits, Robin Hood. His grave, overshadowed by majestic beeches, is not far from the ruins of the Nunnery, but in unconsecrated ground, though it is said there used to be a cross to mark the spot. Calder dale was a favourite haunt of the merry men, and many the fat buck they have run down in this valley. Robin Hood has left his name in several places hereabouts, and the peasantry still love to repeat the traditionary stories of his gallantry and daring. Pinder Green, near Wakefield, as we read in ballad line, was the scene of an encounter between Robin and the Jolly Pinder. But we have not left the ruins of the Priory. I suppose that all lovers of Brontëan literature know that the scene of “Shirley” is laid close to Kirklees, which place figures indeed in the novel as Nunnely. Any one acquainted with the locality will recognise Kirklees very thinly disguised under this name: “The village of Nunnely has been alluded to: its old church, its forest, its monastic ruins. It had also its Hall, called the Priory--an older, a larger, a more lordly abode than any Briarfield or Whinbury owned; and, what is more, it had its man of title--its baronet, which neither Briarfield nor Whinbury could boast.” In another chapter Kirklees is thus spoken of: “Kind gentleman as the baronet is, he asked the tutor too; but the tutor would much sooner have made an appointment with the ghost of the Earl of Huntingdon to meet him, and a shadowy ring of his merry men, under the canopy of the thickest, blackest, oldest oak in Nunnely Forest. Yes, he would rather have appointed tryst with a phantom abbess, or mist-pale nun, among the wet and weedy relics of that ruined sanctuary of theirs, mouldering in the core of the wood.”