his local acquaintance with the country enabled
him to regain the road to Martindale, from which he had diverged on
the preceding evening for about two miles. But the roads, or rather the
paths, of this wild country, so much satirised by their native poet,
Cotton, were so complicated in some places, so difficult to be traced in
others, and so unfit for hasty travelling in almost all, that in spite
of Julian's utmost exertions, and though he made no longer delay upon
the journey than was necessary to bait his horse at a small hamlet
through which he passed at noon, it was nightfall ere he reached an
eminence, from which, an hour sooner, the battlements of Martindale
Castle would have been visible; and where, when they were hid in night,
their situation was indicated by a light constantly maintained in a
lofty tower, called the Warder's Turret; and which domestic beacon had
acquired, through all the neighbourhood, the name of Peveril's Polestar.

This was regularly kindled at curfew toll, and supplied with as much
wood and charcoal as maintained the light till sunrise; and at no period
was the ceremonial omitted, saving during the space intervening between
the death of a Lord of the Castle and his interment. When this last
event had taken place, the nightly beacon was rekindled with some
ceremony, and continued till fate called the successor to sleep with
his fathers. It is not known from which circumstance the practice
of maintaining this light originally sprung. Tradition spoke of it
doubtfully. Some thought it was the signal of general hospitality,
which, in ancient times, guided the wandering knight, or the weary
pilgrim, to rest and refreshment. Others spoke of it as a "love-lighted
watchfire," by which the provident anxiety of a former lady of
Martindale guided her husband homeward through the terrors of a midnight
storm. The less favourable construction of unfriendly neighbours of
the dissenting persuasion, ascribed the origin and continuance of this
practice to the assuming pride of the family of Peveril, who thereby
chose to intimate their ancient _suzerainte_ over the whole country, in
the manner of the admiral who carries the lantern in the poop, for the
guidance of the fleet. And in the former times, our old friend, Master
Solsgrace, dealt from the pulpit many a hard hit against Sir Geoffrey,
as he that had raised his horn, and set up his candlestick on high.
Certain it is, that all the Peverils, from father to