Arriving at the bottom of Thorngate, the young scion is anxious to prospect his fishing ground. We turn to the left, and, when we are near the river, watch the finny tribe dart away on our approach. Here is that grand open ground, the “Demenses� where the boys enjoy cricket, football, and all other games. The river is always attractive. The residents of and visitors to, Barnard Castle are more fortunate than many of the small towns on Teesside, as they have free access to the river’s banks on either side. So, this lovely morning, down by the river’s rocky bed, stepping from stone to stone, we eventually view the familiar Abbey Bridge. We now leave the river, and, striking an opening in the woods, emerge at the old bridge, and view the sublime scene so faithfully described by Scott: “Where Tees full many a fathom low Wears with his rage no common foe; For pebbly bank, nor sand-bed here, Nor clay-mould checks his fierce career, Condemned to mine a channel’d way O’er solid sheets of marble grey.�

From a Photo taken with a No. 5 Poco Camera by M. Heavisides. Remembering our conversation with the old man, near Holwick, one afternoon we set out for the abode of the fairies. The three grace are in ecstasies at discovering tiny flowers, beautiful in form and colour, nestling amongst the grass. Evidently they are of an Alpine character. We next come to a small mountain stream, which is on its way to form the waterfall. At last we appear before Fairy Dell waterfall, a delightful bit of nature unalloyed. Looking down westward, is the Gorge, with Newbiggin hazy in the distance. The old mans account is fairly correct, for vegetation is struggling for a bare existence on its rocky walls. The small stream plays hide and seek over the rough stones, on its downward course.