In particular I traversed (in 1902) the great upland
called Limmer Fell, and saw the tarn--Silent Water--and the trees
called The Seven Sisters. They are silver birches of remarkable size
and beauty. One of them is fallen. Standing there, looking north-west,
the Knapp may be seen easily, some five miles away; and the extent of
the forest with which it is covered can be estimated. A great and
solemn wood that is, which no borderer will ever enter if he can help
it.

There was--and may be still--a family of shepherds living in Dryhope
of the name of King. When these things occurred there were alive
George King, a patriarch of seventy-five years, Miranda King, his
daughter-in-law, widow of his son, who was supposed to be a
middle-aged woman, and a young man, Andrew King, her only son. That
was the family; and there was a girl, Bessie Prawle, daughter of a
neighbour, very much in and out of the house, and held by common
report to be betrothed to Andrew. She used to help the widow in
domestic matters, see to the poultry, milk the cow, churn the butter,
press the cheeses. The Kings were independent people, like the
dalesmen of Cumberland, and stood, as the saying is, upon their own
foot-soles. Old King had a tenant-right upon the fell, and owed no man
anything.

There was said to be a mystery connected with Miranda the widow, who
was a broad-browed, deep-breasted, handsome woman, very dark and
silent. She was not a native of Redesdale, not known to be of
Northumberland. Her husband, who had been a sailor, had brought her
back with him one day, saying that she was his wife and her name
Miranda. He had said no more about her, would say no more, and had
been drowned at sea before his son was born. She, for her part, had
been as uncommunicative as he. Such reticence breeds wonderment in the
minds of such a people as they of Dryhope, and out of wonderment arise
wonders. It was told that until Miranda King was brought in sea-birds
had never been seen in Dryhopedale. It was said that they came on that
very night when George King the younger came home, and she with him,
carrying his bundle and her own. It was said that they had never since
left the hamlet, and that when Miranda went out of doors, which was
seldom, she was followed by clouds of them whichever way she turned. I
have no means of testing the truth of these rumours, but, however it
may be, no scandal was ever brought against her. She was respectable
and respected. Old