represented. The part of the castle now converted into a dairy seems to have undergone the least change. It is entered by one of the above-named Gothic doors, and is on a level with the ground; nevertheless, it seems formerly to have been a cell. It has an arched roof, and at each end there is a long loophole, now glazed, by which, through the thick walls, the shadowy light reaches its interior. There is also, on the right-hand side of the entrance, the form of a door, now built up, which probably in some remote times led to a staircase, or was the opening of a staircase in the wall, by which it communicated with the upper stories. Standing on this floor, reflections of the stormy past come thickly and fast to the mind. Who, in anguish or despair, had trod that narrow space in the older days of the castle? Who, in the mediæval centuries of its existence, had passed and repassed its sombre threshold, waking its weird silence with their piercing prayers or ghostly groans? What fair ladies, and sweet babes, and pleasant homes had been dreamt of at night or thought of by day in that place? What young hearts had wished then that it never were summer, as the golden radiance of June, streaming from afar on the just visible tree-tops, mocked their misery, and brought back blessed but maddening memories?
Whether such sad reflections might not have been true, we will leave our readers to judge from the following facts of the history of this place:—“This castle was the palace of the Bishop of Carlisle till the the 13th January 1229; and about the year 1293, the famous Bishop Hilton is said to have entertained here for a considerable time Johannes Romanus, Archbishop
