They could don the steel corslet as easily as they could say an Ave or a Paternoster, and hang or excommunicate, according to the needs of the hour; and this stalwart John Hilton, the owner of Linstock Castle while the fiery Edward I. was at Carlisle, and finished his life and wars on Drumburgh Marsh, a short distance thence, was one of the most martial men of the times. There is little about this castle now to tell of all this; but there must have been other buildings, which were formerly parts of it, right down to the river, for we were told that large stones like old foundations are found by the men employed in weiring the river. There is also a trace of an ancient moat which once ran round its northern side.
We left its peaceful precincts with many thoughts of the far past, its occupants, their lives, their deeds, and how, through the lapsing centuries, all had changed—changed, but still in some palpable manner remaining much the same—the old familiar skies now, as then, shutting down over a beauteous nature—cool breezes, green trees, tender flowers, and the grand gloomy fells. How full of instruction is the past! how full of reverence!—the great need of our times! Well would it be if our masses could better understand these sermons in stones!
Since writing the above we have revisited this “old castle,” and find that there are even more points of interest about it than we had at first observed. On the east side more especially there are a great many lights and loopholes now closed up, which formerly did their stint of service to the old place which on that side has not been encumbered with modern additions.
