The village-green of Bainbridge to the west is quite shut in with hills,
and in the centre are the stocks, or rather the stone supports minus
the most important part, with a rough rock seat which must have
added considerably to the victim's discomfort. The principal curiosity,
however, is the ancient custom prevailing here of blowing a horn at
10 p.m. during the summer months, to guide belated travellers on the
moors. This was an excellent provision for safety hundreds of years
ago, when Bainbridge was practically in the midst of a forest, and
even in the twentieth century may have its uses. The older horn, that
was used half a century ago, is now in Bolton Castle Museum. It is
very large, and curiously twisted. The houses at Bainbridge are of the
ordinary ugly Yorkshire type; but on high ground overlooking a ravine
stands a nice old gabled grange, which must have tempted many an
artist and photographer to pause upon their way to the famous Falls.
These, of course, are very fine, but to our mind far less beautiful than
the single plunge of water just below the grange, from a wide and
scooped-out bed of precipitous rock. Nor are the
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high, low, and middle Falls of Aysgarth half so picturesque, though in
a sense they are more boisterous, like coppery boiling water.
Aysgarth church is perched up high, and you have to climb up many
steps to reach it from the moss-grown bridge. The doors of most of
the Yorkshire churches we found were kept unlocked; but this was an
exception, so down those steps we had to come, to go in search of a
key; but reaching the bottom of the flight, up we had to go again to try
and find the rectory. Oh! the time that may be lost in hunting for a church key, and what a blessing it would be if notices were stuck up
in the porches to say where they were kept. The interior of Aysgarth
has a new appearance, but the splendid painted screen from Jervaulx
(placed east and west instead of across the chancel) is worth a hunt
for the key. Another screen, dated 1536, has upon it the grotesque
carving of a fool's head with long-eared cap. Here again in the village
are the stocks; but the Maypole, which once was its pride, long since
has made its exit.