the cocks fighting. And in this manner he died.

These are merely instances of eccentricity compared to the tales of
positive violence and crime that have occurred in these isolated
dwellings, which still linger in the memories of the old people of the
district, and some of which were doubtless familiar to the authors of
"Wuthering Heights" and "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall."

The amusements of the lower classes could hardly be expected to be more
humane than those of the wealthy and better educated. The gentleman, who
has kindly furnished me with some of the particulars I have given,
remembers the bull-baitings at Rochdale, not thirty years ago. The bull
was fastened by a chain or rope to a post in the river. To increase the
amount of water, as well as to give their workpeople the opportunity of
savage delight, the masters were accustomed to stop their mills on the
day when the sport took place. The bull would sometimes wheel suddenly
round, so that the rope by which he was fastened swept those who had been
careless enough to come within its range down into the water, and the
good people of Rochdale had the excitement of seeing one or two of their
neighbours drowned, as well as of witnessing the bull baited, and the
dogs torn and tossed.

The people of Haworth were not less strong and full of character than
their neighbours on either side of the hills. The village lies embedded
in the moors, between the two counties, on the old road between Keighley
and Colne. About the middle of the last century, it became famous in the
religious world as the scene of the ministrations of the Rev. William
Grimshaw, curate of Haworth for twenty years. Before this time, it is
probable that the curates were of the same order as one Mr. Nicholls, a
Yorkshire clergyman, in the days immediately succeeding the Reformation,