When Charles the First was King by J.S. Fletcher

It may be thought by some, who from prejudice or ignorance are not in a position to judge properly of the matter, that there is nothing in this part of England which is worth writing of or describing, so strange are the views held by outsiders of us Yorkshiremen, so peculiar the ideas which many people have respecting our land, people, and manners. There is an impression beyond our borders that we are never so happy as when engaged in a horse-dealing transaction, and it is quite true that we are fond of trade in that direction, and bad to overreach when it comes to a question of hard bargaining. Nevertheless, it is not true that we think of nothing else but horse-dealing, any more than that our county -- or, at least, some parts of it -- is not to be compared for natural beauties with other shires which have achieved more fame in that way. I have heard travelled men discourse of the fine scenery and beautiful landscapes of Cumberland and Westmoreland, and of the grandeur of Devon and Cornwall, not to speak of Derbyshire and some parts of Wales, comparing divers districts of these to the country in Switzerland and Italy, which is, I understand, as fair as anything this earth can show; but, in spite of that, it has always seemed to me that our own three Ridings can exhibit as many pleasing prospects as man need wish for; so that a Yorkshireman casting his eyes upon them must needs thank God that he has been placed to live his life amongst such delectable spots. For we have hill and valley, and broad tracts of luscious meadow-land where you may feed a thousand head of cattle and never hurt the luxuriance of the grass, and our rivers are comparable for quiet beauty with Trent or Severn, and our rocky defiles are oftentimes as wild as anything that you will meet in Scotland or Cumberland. Then, again, our seaboard is such as few countries can show the like of, consisting as it does of rough promontory and rocky headland, joined with long stretches of brown sand, across which the North Sea's waves come tumbling cold and icy from Norroway. Nay, when I begin to think in good earnest of the matter, and to remember what I have seen in other days -- for I have travelled somewhat myself -- I am certain that for diversity of scenery you may roam the wide world over and never find a country so fair, so rich in Nature's gifts, so pleasing to the eye, as my native Yorkshire.

And of all parts of this broad-acred land there is none which I so much love or admire as that in which the greater portion of my life hath been spent, though I indeed have seen the whole of the three Ridings, from Cronkley Fell to Featherbed Moss, and from Flamborough Head to Bowland Forest. There is a fine beauty about the dales of the North Riding, and I have seen sights upon the lonely wolds of Cleveland and Ryedale which did inspire me with feelings of awe and great wonder. And I have heard artists who understood these matters say that amongst those dales and hills there are scenes which not all the world can show the equal of. Howbeit I am no artist, though loving a good picture, but only a simple yeoman born and bred on the land, and never so happy as when breathing in the fresh air of a spring morning as it steals to your nostrils over the breadth of a new-ploughed field; and so, when it comes to a question of comparison between these districts, I give the palm to the broad meadow-lands and deep woods and gentle undulations of that corner of the West Riding where first I saw the light, where I have passed the greater part of my life to this present time, where, please God, I shall die and lie at peace.