their heads above water, which was only till they came under the bridge, where the water, pent in by the narrow arch, acquired four-fold force, and there they heard him utter a hoarse cry of despair, and the gallant Hawksley and the Lady Eva’s beauteous favourite were seen no more, till their bodies were found, days after, on the shore far down the lake. One or two of the horsemen continued to gallop down the side of the beck, in the bootless hope of being able even yet to render them some aid, but the most of them turned their horses’ heads, and went off once more at their utmost speed in pursuit of the murderous Giant. He, considering the chase at an end, had slackened his pace, and they were not long in overtaking him. Great Will struck out manfully with his club (time out of mind the giant’s favourite weapon) as they rushed upon him, but they speedily surrounded him, and, amid a storm of vengeful yells and bitter execrations, the Giant of the Tarns was stretched upon the sward, “with the blood running like a little brook” from a hundred wounds, for he was so frightfully slashed and mangled by their swords, that—as my informant näively averred—there was not so much whole skin left upon his huge body as would have made a tobacco-pouch. [Sidenote: SPEEDY RETRIBUTION.] It will be apparent enough to the most obtuse intellect, that, after such events as these, the localities where they occurred must, of necessity, be haunted, and, as the ghosts of murderers, as well as of murder_ees_, if they be right orthodox apparitions, always appear to be re-enacting the closing scene of their earthly career, it is scarcely required of me to dilate farther upon the manner of their appearance. Of course I do not expect, and certainly do not wish to be called upon to prove the even down truth of every particular of the story, with which I have been doing my little best to amuse you; but the assured fact of the Dub and the Bridge being haunted, and that by sundry most pertinacious spirits, I am ready to maintain against all comers. But here you are approaching the lovely secluded farm and cottage of Holme Ground, and whenever I am sick of this world and its vanities, which as yet, I am happy to say, maintain _some_ hold upon my affections, it is here that I should be satisfied to take up my rest. [Sidenote: ROAD AND ROAD-SIDE.] You may remember that it was hereabouts you crossed the vale of Tilberthwaite, “Paled in with many a mountain high,” on a former ramble. On the present occasion, you hold the road to your right, and a precious steep, rugged sample of a road it is; but as you gradually surmount the ascent, you may take a retrospective glance, now and then, at the beautiful vale, or rather dell, of Tilberthwaite, and the mountains with which it is “paled in,” all of these being surmounted by the massive Weatherlam, which is seen to much advantage, and shews itself to be a magnificent hill from this road.