It was lunch-time, and here at Ribblehead in the West Ri ding of Yorkshire, 'it was a grand day with a blue sky and warm sun above us, and a fine prospect ahead. We six hao ridden up from Blacxbum the same morning, with the intention of having a quiet afternoon on the fells. Having eaten well at the small inn nestling to the railway embankment,. we slid down the hill to have a last look at' the snail stream which runs noisily beneath the bridge.