or three broad silver bands into a considerable pool. Great masses of
overhanging rock, shaded by a leafy roof, shut in the brimming waters.

It is not difficult to find the way from Beck Hole to the Roman camp on
the hillside towards Egton Bridge. The Roman road from Cawthorn goes
right through it, but beyond this it is not easy to trace, although
fragments have been discovered as far as Aislaby, all pointing to
Dunsley or Sandsend Bay. Round the shoulder of the hill we come down
again to the deeply-wooded valley of the Esk. No river can be seen, but
when we enter the shade of the trees the sound of many waters fills the
air. What was once a thick green roof is now thin and yellow, and under
our feet is a yielding carpet of soft brown and orange leaves. Rare and
luxuriant mosses grow at the foot of the trees, on dead wood, and on the
damp stones, and everywhere the rich woodland scent of decay meets the
nostrils. In the midst of all these evidences of rampant natural
conditions we come to Glaisdale End, where a graceful stone bridge of a
single arch stands over the rushing stream. The initials of the builder
and the date appear on the eastern side of what is now known as the
Beggar's Bridge. It was formerly called Firris Bridge, after the
builder, but the popular interest in the story of its origin seems to
have killed the old name. If you ask anyone in Whitby to mention some of
the sights of the neighbourhood, he will probably head his list with the
Beggar's Bridge, but why this is so I cannot imagine. The woods are very
beautiful, but this is a country full of the loveliest dales, and the
presence of this single-arched bridge does not seem sufficient to have
attracted so much popularity. I can only attribute it to the love
interest associated with the beggar. He was, we may imagine, the
Alderman Thomas Firris who, as a penniless youth, came to bid farewell
to his betrothed, who lived somewhere on the opposite side of the river.
Finding the stream impassable, he is said to have determined that if he