'From the lane end then Eland came,

And spied these gentlemen;

And wondered he who they could be,

And val'd his bonnet then.'

Adam Beaumont was the first to speak, rudely seizing the bridle of Sir John Eland's horse, and throwing him back upon his haunches :

'Thy courtsey vails thee not, Sir Knight,

Thou slew my father dear,

Sometime Sir Robert Beaumont hight,

And slain thou shalt be here.'

It was a valiant defence that bold knight made; for, throwing himself off his horse when Adam Beaumont seized the reins, he drew his short sword, and laid about him stoutly. False loon art thou, and cowardly traitor,' shouted he to Quarmby, who had already wounded him sore; had I had thee but single-handed, or even with Beaumont only to back thee, I would send ye both to rot with your fathers.' 'How many swords hadst thou, false knight, to back thee, when thou camest on our kin, and like a craven fox slew them in the night?' quoth Quarmby. As soon as Sir John was slain outright, and his bloody corpse lay in the road, pierced with many wounds, besmeared too with dust and dirt-for in his death-throws he had struggled on the ground with Lockwood, whose foot had slipped in the dreadful fray-the party quickly dispersed. And the retinue of the proud sheriff now found him upon the bare road a stiffened corpse, and conveyed him, upon a bier made hastily of oaken boughs, to Eland Hall. And

all his friends and servants resorted thither, and greatly bemoaned him; for, though relentless and fierce to his foes, he was ever generous and kind to those who lived under him, and showed himself at all times a steady and bounteous friend to our Holy Church, as the monkes of Whalley can certify right well :

'They tolled the bell, and the mass was said,
And the lady sorely wept her lord :
"But, mother,” the young heir questioned,
"When may I draw my father's sword?"

666

'Forbear, my child," the mother said, "That sword hath brought us ill; Four noble heads are now laid low, More blood we may not spill."'

The friends of the late Sir John Eland made for many days diligent search for his murderers; but Beaumont and. his company had fled, and passing over into Lancashire, had crossed the dangerous sands of Morecambe Bay, and hid themselves among the dark Fells of Furness, where Beaumont had friends. Here they openly boasted of their misdeeds, and how they had avenged the death of their fathers. They also plotted more mischief, had spies to inform them of all that passed, and laid their plans openly.

Meanwhile, the lady of Eland Hall and her family lived a life of quiet, surrounded with her faithful dependants. Years passed on; and as Beaumont and his friends never appeared in the country, it was thought that the feud was now at an end, and nothing further need be feared. The young knight grew up brave and good; he lived in his father's

halls and among his father's kin; and he too was a friend of the Holy Church.

But Adam Beaumont and his fierce and relentless company among the dark Fells of Furness, not satisfied with the blood of their powerful and wicked foe, thirsted even more for the blood of his good and knightly son, together with his loving wife and darling babes, living in fancied security in Eland Hall. So many years had now passed away, that much of the former caution was laid aside, and occasionally the young knight and his lady would venture abroad unarmed and unprotected. Their enemies, by means of spies, heard of this:

'Adam of Beaumont then truly,

Lacie and Lockwood eke,

And Quarmby, came to their countrie,
Their purpose for to seek.'

They again repaired to their haunt in Cromwellbotham (the foot of the winding spring) Wood, and there lay in that very glen where they had shed the blood of Sir John Eland. And here, receiving food and sustenance from Lacie's house close by, they lay in ambush till the eve of Palm Sunday, having spies to keep a close watch upon the family at Eland Hall, and their movements. On this holy eve they stole from their hiding-places; and it being mirke midnight,' made their way to Eland Mill, on the further bank of the Calder stream, just below the hill on which the town stood. Stealthily forcing their way into the mills, they hid themselves there till early dawn; when the miller's

wife, going into the mill for some meal, was seized, and bound hand and foot, and her mouth gagged. The miller, vexed at the delay, took his cudgel and went to the mill, where he was soon felled with his own weapon, bound fast and gagged, and laid beside his wife.

We will now return for a while to Eland Hall, where on the eve of Palm Sunday the young knight retired to rest with his fair wife and their family. A fearful storm disturbed their rest, and the young knight had a terrific dream of armed men grinning horribly, and threatening to slay him and those most dear to him. He rose early in the morning, but still disturbed in mind, fearing that some evil accident was about to befall him. His lady bade him take courage, saying, 'It is the morn of Palm Sunday, and to church we must go, as is our wont; and surely no evil can betide good Christians on such a holy day, and going forth, too, for so holy a purpose.' The knight was persuaded to keep his church, as was ever his wont, and left the hall with his fair lady, and his young son and heir closely following, with several of his household. They thus arrived at the river-bank, where a long weir was carried transversely to conduct the waters to the large wheel of the mill. Below this weir was a ford, over which was a passage by large stepping-stones; which road, leading round the back of the mill, conducted the passenger up the hill to the church and to the town. Scarcely had the knight and his lady reached the river-brink, when a sad and fearful scene, thus told in the ballad, met their eyes:

'The drought had made the waters small,

The stakes appeared dry;

The knight, his wife, and servants,
Came down the dam thereby.

"When Adam Beaumont this beheld,
Forth of the milne (mill) came he;
His bown in hand with him he held,
And shot at him sharply.

'He hit the knight on his breastplate,
Whereupon the bolt did glide;
William of Lockwood, wroth thereat,
Said, "Cousin, you shoot wide."
'Himself did shoot, and hit the knight,
Who nought was hurt with this;
Whereat the knight had great delight,
And said to them, "I wis

666

'If that my father had been clad
With armour such certaine,
Your wicked hands escaped he had,

And had not so been slaine.

"Oh, Eland Town, alack," said he,
"If thou but knew of this,

These foes of mine full fast would flee,
And of their purpose miss."

'William of Lockwood was a dread,
The town would rise indeed;

He shot the knight right through the head,
And slew him thus with speed.

'His son and heir was wounded there,
But dead he did not fall:

Into the house conveyed he was,

And died in Eland Hall.'

But if these vengeful men thought to escape from the second misdeed as they did from the first, they counted