itmf iJpr irf
^a
€^ou0anb Qtlifee of (Jloab ^raSef
PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREUT SQUARE
LONDON
THE CHRONICLE OF A DRIVING TOUR
A PEEl' AI WINDERMERE.
DR1\1: THROUGH ENGLAND
OR A
t^oueanb (mifee of (Ro<xb tvaM
BY
JAMES JOHN Hl.SSi:V
AUTHOR OF 'an OLPFASHIONRD JOl'RNEV' ETC.
Tur/>e est in patrid vivere, et patriam ignorare'— Linnceus
WITH TWENTY FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BV THE AUTHOR
LONDON
RICHARD IJENTLKY .Sr SOX NEW lU'RI.INGToX STREK l
i^nblis^frs in C?rbin:un to jfur |tbjrstn thr ()\\tn\
i88s
\_All ri^hti nscrx'ed^
SRLF
o/U?05U5
g« "g^cmort) of
MY DEARLY LOVED AND LOVING
WIFE
WHOSE SYMPATHETIC COMPANIONSHIP MADE MY
WANDERINGS BY ROAD SO DELIGHTFUL
PREFACE.
This volume is the simple record of a most delight-
ful excursion, * A Cruise on Wheels ' of nearly a
thousand miles, passing through some of the most
beautiful portions of England.
To the writer it appears that no method of see-
ing a country or a pleasanter way of spending a
summer holiday could be desired, no form of travel
so thoroughly enjoyable, or on the whole so inde-
pendent, as a driving tour.
The journey herein related took some three
months to perform, and, consisting as it did of a
round drive from London to Scotland and back, was
a most comprehensive one, and gave to those who
made it a store of pleasant memories, a treasure
gallery of rural and home scenes never to be for-
gotten.
When travelling, we averaged as nearly as pos-
sible twenty miles a day, resting our horses occa-
sionally, and with easy driving — in spite of the
many tr)-ing and long stages and inferior accommo-
dation in places — they rather improved than other-
wise on the road.
viii PREFACE.
Wc found our expenditure considerably less
than it would have been had we been merely stay-
ing at some fashionable watering-place hotel, seeing
nothing of particular interest. In calculating the
cost of the expedition, it must be borne in mind
our horses had to be kept somewhere, whether
travelling or at home, and to the credit side (though
I have not reckoned this) it must be remembered
our travelling expenses were nil, save a trifle for
turnpikes, of which but few now remain.
Perhaps I should add, the journey, taken for
pleasure only and with no idea of writing a book,
was made a few years ago, so some of the remarks
regarding hotels may or may not be correct at the
present date.
J. J. H.
S(U'TH Kensington: 1885.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
The Start — How our Journey came about — Driving Tours, their
Pleasures and Advantages — On the Road — English Scenery
— A Pleasant Stage — Town versus Country — The sort of
Carriage to Drive — Salt Hill — A Forsaken Inn — Slough — A
Chat with our Landlady — Old Legends and Traditions. . i
CHAPTER n.
Stoke Pogis — Windsor Castle — Bray Church and its adhesive
Vicar — CliefdenWoods — Highwaymen's Retreat— The British
Tourist — Maidenhead Bridge — A Country Lane — An English
Hedge-row — Builders and Buildings — Great Marlow — A Row
on the River — An Old-world Mansion — Thames Fishing —
Nearly coming to Grief — A Legend of Marlow Bridge — We
run against a Character — A Haunted House — A Peculiar
Ghost . . , . . . . .12
CHAPTER HL
A Late Start — A Drive in the Dark — A Dilapidated Signpost —
A Curious Inscription — Oxford — Architects and Artists — The
English Climate — Woodstock — A Comfortable Inn — Country
Hostelries — The Tradition of Rosamond's Bower — Rosa-
mond's Tomb — Blenheim Palace — An Ancient Doorway —
Sir John Vanbrugh — An Epitaph — Wild England— A Rough
Road — Chapel House — The Rollich Stones — Rough Quarters
— Old Buildings . . . . . -29
CHAPTER IV.
Scotch Firs— The old-fashioned Flail in use — A Picturesque
Village — Market Crosses — A Homelike Country' — An Old
Farmhouse — A Sleepy Town — A Hunt for Quarters— Ac-
commodated at last — A Forsaken Hotel — A Stupid Ostler —
Deserted Stables— A Chat with nur Landlord A Bad Out-
CONTENTS.
PAGE
look — A History of Chapel House — Dr. Johnson's Opinion
of Taverns — Old English Hostels — Our Bedroom — A Tour
of Discovery — Antique Rooms — The Writing on the Glass 49
CHAPTER V.
A Gloomy Day — Lights and Shadows — A Wayside Monument —
Across Country — A Doubtful Lane — In a Fix — A Camp Out
— Wild Flowers — Home and Foreign Scenery— A Capital
Road — A Rainbow — Coventry — A Quaint Old City — An Old
Steeple — The Restorations of Ancient Buildings — A Punning
Epitaph— A Fine Hall — Origin of the term ' To send to
Coventry.' ....... 66
CHAPTER VI.
A Bad Road — A Mining Country — Old Mines — Lopsided Houses
— Nuneaton — An Old Hostelrie— Signboards — A Dangerous
Bit of Road — An Obelisk by the Wayside— A Quaint Village
and Inn— Artists and Photographers — A Classical Church —
An Old-world Hamlet — Village Names — Ashby-de-la-Zouch
— A Visitors' Book — Bathing Establishment — The Saline
Waters — A Bad Speculation — The Castle — Old Feudal
Strongholds and their Builders — The General History of
English Castles — The Restorer in his Glory— A Fine Gothic
Monument ......
CHAPTER Vn.
n
A Delightful Road — Charnwood Forest — A Ruined Manor
House — A Long Descent — An Extensive Panorama — A
Long Bridge — Swarkestone — A Hunters' Inn — A Collision
Averted — Windmills — A Sudden Change in the Weather—
A Race against Time — A Thunderstorm — About Light-
ning—Hotel Museum — Old Coaching Bills — Relics of
Richard III. — A Fresh Morning — A Stone Country — Pictur-
esque Hillsides — Mountainous Countries versus Level Ones
— Belper^Old Mills — Ambergate — The Vale of Cromford — ■
The Derwent— A Bit of an Old Wall— A Hill-climbing Rail-
way — A Comfortable Hotel — Inn Gardens — An Evening
Prospect. . . . . . . .92
CHAPTER VHP
Round about Matlock— The High Tor— A Showman's Paradise
—An Amusing Encounter— Caves— The Crystallized Cavern
CONTENTS.
PAGE
— A Bridge swept away— Nature's Workshops — Petrifying
Wells— The Cumberland Cavern— Our Guide— The English
Tourist — A Wonderful Jump— Characteristic Old Bridges-
Mountain Air— Crich Hill— A Geological Marvel— A Terrible
Landslip — Derbyshire Villages — Romantic Scenery — Wing-
field Manor— The Architects of Old— Ancient Buildings—
A Grand Old Ruin . . . . .no
CHAPTER IX.
Hardwick Hall — Mines — An Old Distich— A Many-windowed
House — Bess of Hardwick— A Very Much Married Lady —
A Poor Consolation — Building Bess— An Old Country —
Tradition at Fault— Guide-books and their Waiters- An
Old-world Home— Interior of Hardwick — Ancient Furniture
—A Bit of the Black Country — Chesterfield — Our Fore-
fathers and Ourselves— Sheffield — Disagreeable Driving — A
Wonderful Town — An Artificial Volcano — ' Far from the
Madding-Crowd ' — A Hill Stream — Landscapes, Ideal and
Real ........ 129
CHAPTER X.
Penistone— A Desolate Village — A Hunt for the Landlord— A
Cheerless Country — A Vast Solitude— A Sea of Moors —
Mountain and Moorland Air — Huddersfield— Nature's Re-
creation (Grounds— A Country of Towns — Sunshine and
Shower — Halifax — Travellers' Tales — Gibbet Law — A
Thieves' Litany — A Steep Road— Wreathing Mists— Diffi-
cult Steering — A Hailstorm — A Purple Sea — Curious Boul-
ders — A Sphinx — Keighley — SkiptonTown and Castle— The
Shepherd Lord — Changing Scenery — An al fresco Lunch —
Settle — An Ebbing and Flowing Well — Unfortunate Tourists
— Clapham — Pine Forests . . . . • '44
CHAPTER XL
A Romantic \'illage — Ingleborough Mountain — Guides and their
Prey— Caverns— A Quiet Retreat — Holiday Haunts at Home
— A Golden Sea- Kirkby-Lonsdale — A Beautiful Old Bridge
— A Narrow Roadway — Mists and Fogs — Milnthorpe — A
Welcome — Weather-bound — A Grey Picture — A Trans-
formation Scene — A Heronrj' — Levins Hall — Curious Old
Garden — A Mansion of the Olden Time— Grange — A Perilous
Road over Sands— A Stage Coach and Passengers lost in the
Quicksands — Cartmel — L'nique Old Church — Peculiar Archi-
tecture — Ulverston— A Strange Article on Sale — A Red Tarn
— Furness Abbey . . . . . • i^5
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XII.
PAGE
Ruins by IMoonlight — The Beauty of an Old Abbey— A Name-
less Castle — A Storm — Driving by Night — A Weird Road —
Newby Bridge — Road Work and Accidents — A Poor Land-
lord — A Hot Day — The Enjoyment of the Unknown — A
Forsaken Road — A Curious Wayside Hostel — A Picture —
Artists and Painting — Bovvness — National Playgrounds — A
Tourist-haunted Spot — Belle Island — An Exciting Exploit —
Low Wood — Lady Holm — Mountain Sunsets — A Romantic
Religion — A Moonlight Row on the Lake . . .185
CHAPTER XIII.
Unpromising Weather — ^Judging Scenery from Maps — Peculi-
arities of the Rothay and the Brathay — Weather Effects —
Hawkshead — Old Churchyards — Coniston — The Old Man —
Ancient Hills— Tarns — Unfinished Scenery — Valley of Tilber-
thwaite — A Fine Ravine — Langdale Tarn —An Artist at Work
— BleaTarn — Wild Scenery — The Langdale Pikes — Dungeon
Gill — A Stony Stage— A Steep Hill— Grasmere — Photography
in Colours — A Curiously-shaped Hill — Helm Crag — A Fine
Torrent— Unseen Scenery — A Cairn — An Epitaph to a Horse
— Wythburn — A Grand Valley — Famous Scenery not always
the most beautiful ...... 204
CHAPTER XIV.
Mountains and Mists— Thirlemere — A Neglected Lake — Fine
Crag Scenery — Keswick — Portinscale — St. Herbert's Isle — A
Glorious Morning — Dr. Syntax's Destination — A Historical
Spot — We Purchase a Picture just finished — Grange — The
Bowder Stone — A Wild Valley — Our Ancestors' Opinions
about Mountains — Solemn Yews — The Birthplace of Storms
— Honister Crag and Pass — Caught in a Hailstorm —
Dangerous Torrents — Freebooters — Bad Roads and Rough
Travelling — Buttermere and its Tradition — Grand Amphi-
theatre of Mountains — Evening amongst the Hills . . 227
CHAPTER XV.
A Perfect Day— The Pleasures of the Road— A Druids' Circle—
The Unknown Past — An Impressive Sight — Threlkeld and
its Wonderful Tarns — An Age of Fact— Grand Moorland
Scenery — The Beauties of the Moors— Ullswater — Nature
as a Painter— Stybarrow Crag— An Old Fight— The King
CONTENTS. xiii
of Patteidale— Hrolhcrs Water — Singular Coincidence — A
Faithful Dog— Aircy Force— A Difficult Task— An Antique
Love Story— Dacre Castle— Eamont Bridge— Relics of Pre-
historic Times— Mysterious Structures— King Arthur's Round
Table— The Giants' Caves . . . .245
CHAPTER XVI.
At Moffat— Sunday Reading and a Sunday Bargain -South-
ward Bound— Ugly Churches— A Baby Castle— Castle John-
son—A Forsaken Road— Lockerby— Landlords and Land-
ladies—Inns in the 'North Countrie'— A Neglected part of
Scotland— Ecclefechan— A Romantic Old Castle— A Way-
side Hostelrie— A Relic of the Old Coaching Days— Gretna
Crcen An Old Bridge — A Storm Imminent— An Artistic
Hotel— An American's Opinion of the same — Petrified
Potatoes— Carlisle Cathedral and Castle— A Mountainous
Prospect — A Curious Wayside Erection — An Old-world
Village— A Curious Toll— ' A Carriage Propelled by Ma-
chinery' — Going to Ruin— Penrith .... 260
CHAPTER XVII.
Penrith Church— The (giant's Grave— A Curious Method of
Painting— The Beacon Hill— Brougham Castle — Anecdote
of James L— The Countess's Pillar— A Peculiar Tree— Old
English Villages — A Strange Story — Ancient Manor House
— A Ready-made Picture — Appleby Town, Castle, and
Church — Cloisters turned into Shops — A Dainty Meal for
the Restorer — A Puzzling Epitaph— Centenarians — Relics of
Bull-baiting — A Stony Road — Savage Scenery — An Ancient
Town — Brough Castle — A Tradition of Past Times— A
Curious Dispute — Antiquarians at Fault — ' The Wildest Bit
of Road in England '"An Antique Chamber . . 384
CHAPTER XVIII.
A Wet Morning— Doubtful Prospects— A Tour of Inspection-
Ancient Crosses — Over Stainmoor — A Bleak Drive — The
Rere Cross — A Moorland Prospect— A Lonely Hostelrie —
Traditions of the Spital Inn — An Oasis in the Desert —
Bowes — Dotheboys' Hall — True Love — An Old Castle — Inn
Full — Barnard Castle — No Accommodation — We Secure
Quarters at Last — A Kind-hearted Landlady — The Abbey
Bridge— The Tees— A Mile of Beiuty— Athelstane Abbey —
Rokeby — One of Nature's Masterpieces— Greta Bridge — Fox
CONTENTS.
Hall— A Mysterious Sign-post — Milestones— Highest Portion
of the old Northern Mail Road — A Coaching Clapham Junc-
tion — An Old Manor House — Catterick Bridge Hotel — ^A
Cool Reception — Tales of my Landlord . . 303
CHAPTER XIX.
A Haunted Inn — Early Rising — Old Roman Remains — A Chapel
under a Bridge — Lord Darlington's Rooms — Easby Abbey —
Richmond Castle — A Legend of King Arthur — Weather-
bound — Ripon — A Chamber of Horrors — Fountains Abbey
— Harrogate — Knaresborough — The Dripping Well — Saint
Robert's Cavern — Eugene Aram and his Victim — Four Jolly
Priests — Quaint Old Inscriptions — Bolton Priory — A ' Griesly
Sight'— The Abbey Despoilers— The Strid— A Pretty Tra-
dition Spoilt — Ilkley — Mysterious Monuments — The Valley
of the Wharfe — Otley— The Ducking Stool — Harewood
Castle and Church — The Knights of Old — Ancient Tombs —
A Famous Judge — Leeds ..... 331
CHAPTER XX.
A Black Road— Wakefield— A Chapel on a Bridge— Black
Barnsley — Sunshine and Mist — Wortley — A Luxurious Meal
— Sheffield — A Search for Quarters — Smoke-room Stories —
The Moors Again — Rocky Scenery — A Fine Prospect —
Hathersage — The Grave of Little John — Castleton and its
Wonders — Underground Scenery — The Pass of the Winyates
— A Shivering Mountain — A Dangerous Bridge — Buxton — A
Crowded Town — A Curious Mishap — Over the Hills — Bake-
well and its Old Church — Haddon Hall— An Old-world
Hostel— Nature Tamed— Oker Hill and its Tradition— The
Darley Yew ....... 356
CHAPTER XXL
Summer and Autumn— The ' Via Gellia ' — Tissington and its
Well-dressing — Dove Dale— A Beautiful River — A Moon-
light Drive — Loughborough — A Foggy Day — Leicester —
Market Harborough — Naseby — Daventry — An Old Inn — A
Picturesque Interior — An Ancient Chair — Old-world Hostels
— Stony Stratford — Recollections of Scenery — Telford's
Road — Home ....... 377
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
A Pf.ep at Windermere Frontispiece
On the River To face page 21
A Mill by the Way „ 53
An Old Friend „ 97
The Vale of Cromford, looking towards
Matlock „ 105
Hardwick Old Hall ,,132
A Wayside Burn „ 141
On the Moors „ 152
A North-country Road „ 163
Morecambe Bay Sands „ 177
Windermere, looking North .... » 193
Ravine (Tilberthwaite Valley) ... „ 214
Druidical Circle near Keswick .... „ 246
Near Moffat „ 262
Brougham Castle „ 286
Bowes Moor „ 308
On the Greta „ 3'9
Richmond Castle ....... ^y 111
Bolton Abbey „ 348
On the Edge of the .Moor .... „ 362
A
DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
CHAPTER I.
The Start— How our Journey came about — Driving Tours, their Plea-
sures and Advantages— On the Road— English Scenery— A Plea-
sant Stage^Town versus Country — The sort of Carriage to Drive —
Salt Hill— A Forsaken Inn— Slough — A Chat with our Landlady —
Old Legends and Traditions.
* And so you are really going to drive all the way
to Scotland ? '
' Yes, certainly we are.'
' Well, I do envy you. I cannot imagine anything
more thoroughly enjoyable; but I see your steeds are
getting restless and want to be off, like the driver,
eh ? I must not keep )Ou any longer, so good-bye
and dofi voyage'
' Au revoir'
And so, bidding farewell to a friend who had
come to see us start, we left London one glorious
June morning, bound on a driving tour of several
hundred miles to the North Country and home
again. It may perhaps be as well here to explain
who the ' we ' were, the purpose of our journey, and
generally to give a few particulars about our method
^ B
.■1 DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
of travelling. Our tour was all settled and arranged
one fine summer's evening. The atmosphere in
town of late had been hot and oppressive to an un-
pleasant degree. The streets appeared to us to be
noisier and more dusty than ever before. It was
evident we wanted a change. This being carried
Item, con., the next thing to do was to fix where
Ave should go. There were fortunately only two of
us to decide, my wife and myself; so far, matters
were simplified. She suggested Scotland. * The
very place,' I replied — ' bracing air and splendid
scenery.' That important point settled, how should
we go was the next question. By road of course, as
we always do ; we would drive along the grand old
coaching roads of England the whole of the way,
and what a glorious drive we should have— some
four hundred miles in a direct line, to say nothing of
the return journey — through as beautiful a country
as the world can show, a country rich in mellow
homelike scenery and abounding in historic memo-
ries and traditions ! Our programme was one not
to be despised, nor did we envy the many Britons
who seek their pleasures or discomforts in foreign
lands. No wonder our spirits rose and our hearts
were light as we thought over all the good things
the future had in store for us.
As I have before stated, the matter was all
arranged and settled one evening ; we were even
then quite impatient to be off. So the next day
the phaeton was sent to the builders to be over-
hauled, the brake was inspected, tlie liorn and case
slung on, the travelling clock fixed in its |>lace, our
OUR PLANS.
waterproofs, maps, guide-books, and all the accessary
impedimenta for the journey were looked up. We
had still, however, a week on hand before we could
conveniently start, and what enjoyable times we
spent meanwhile, consulting' our maps and road-
books, discussing what we would do, where we
should go, and what we should see, and how often
did we not plan and re-plan our course! It was
finally decided roughly — for to bind ourselves in
detail to any previously arranged plan would have
been to have spoilt entirely the freedom of our
journey, which was one of its principal charms — to
drive from London to the Lake District and so
on into Scotland, returning by another route to be
decided upon hereafter. We had some three or four
months before us in which to do our journey, and
we intended to be perfectly free to wander as we
would, only fixing Scodand as the destination to
which our wanderings would eventually lead us.
Our way would not be a very direct one possibly ;
direct roads are not always the most beautiful.
A week after our decision, the phaeton was at
the door ; our horses — old stagers at this kind of
work — were pawing the ground evidently anxious
for the start. It was a perfect day, neither too hot
nor too cold, slight rain had fallen over-night suffi-
cient to allay any dust there might have been. Who
would not be contented and supremely happy upon
such an occasion and with such weather .'* for a per-
fect day in England is as fine a thing as the world
can produce, let who will say nay. Our goods and
chattels were quickly stowed away in the carriage,
B 2
4 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
our farewells were said, the words ' All right ' were
given, the traces tightened, and we found ourselves
bowling merrily along the monotonous suburbs of
London towards the fresh, free, open country. Our
journey was begun !
Driving by road is surely the perfection of travel-
ling where pleasure, not speed, is the chief object in
view. How delightful is the utter freedom from
time-tables, cabs, booked places, and the endless
worry and bother of luggage ! And what a pleasure
it is to be able to start on your journey just when
your inclination may dictate, to leave your hotel
door in your own conveyance with all your goods
and belongings safely with you, and to arrive at
your destination, possibly some delightful old-fash-
ioned country hostelrie, in a similar manner ! No
annoyance of porters, of being obliged to catch
certain trains, and no hasty scampers or anxiety
as to being in time for them !
There is nothing gives me greater pleasure, as
the glad summer time comes round again, than to
find myself once more ' on the road,' to use an ex-
pression much in vogue in the old coaching days, to
leave behind me for a time the busy hum and din
of town life, to be beyond the reach of telegrams
and worry of letters, to have all England before me
free to wander whither I will. All England I have
said, for though it is not a large country compared
to others in this world, still it is in a scenic point of
view practically inexhaustible. Has not Emerson
said ' it would take a hundred years to see England
properly?' and, in truth, I would rather say it would
HOME TKAVEL.
take twice that time, aye, and double it again, and
then it would not be long enough for the purpose.
In travelling through our own beautiful country-
there is no sameness, no weariness. The scenery
gradually but continually changes, affording to the
traveller a never-ending series of delights. It com-
poses well also ; almost any turn in the road of rural
England reveals a charming picture ; then the
variety is endless. The landscape is always alter-
ing as the journey progresses in a most pleasing and
striking manner. Now you are in an agricultural
country abounding in pleasant looking farmhouses
with their weather-stained and swallow-haunted
barns and gabled out-buildings, the homestead sur-
rounded by fat stacks, giving a suggestion of plenty
and prosperity ; then comes a change to the wild
free moorlands, where the air is always so fresh and
bracing, and where you are sure to find an expansive
landscape impressing one with an idea of unlimited
space and freedom. Anon, perchance, )ou are
running along a well-wooded valley with a bright
river for company, and may be the ruins of an old
abbey or a feudal castle lie on your route, each with
an eventful history well worth investigating and
traditions that will amply repay the trouble of un-
earthing ; then again you find yourself in a rich
pastoral district, a country of old haunted manor-
houses, of ancient parks and statel)' halls and moated
granges ; of peaceful gliding rivers and rich mellow
woodlands ; or it may be )OU are traversing some of
the glorious mountain lands of Scotland or Cumber-
land or Wales, abounding in heather-clad hills, falls
6 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
and foaming torrents, lakes and tarns ; or perhaps
the grand coast scenery of Devon and Cornwall are
claiming your attention ; but, wander whither you
will, wherever your lot may be cast, the eyes are
never wearied and the heart is ever contented and
satisfied. After three months of driving through
England we have returned home in no way wearied
with our trip, but only regretting we were unable to
set out at once upon another like excursion. Of
how few pleasures, after so long an indulgence in the
same, in this matter-of-fact world, could this be said ?
Our first day's destination was Slough, the road
from London to which place passes through a some-
what flat and uninteresting country, or rather, per-
haps, I ought more correctly to say from Hounslow
to Slough, for as far as the former place there is
simply a succession of houses all the way, and it is
only after leaving Hounslow you are really free from
these, and genuine green fields come into sight. I
think, perhaps, instead of uninteresting, I should
rather say comparatively so, for I cannot allow that
any dozen miles of England are devoid of interest.
However, if the landscape afforded us no striking
features or incidents, we felt we were at last in the
wide open country, a country bathed in soft sun-
shine. Green fields were on either side of us, in
which the cattle were lazily feeding, munching con-
tentedly the fresh luxuriant grass ; the trees were
waving their branches to the summer wind ; birds
were singing merrily overhead, whilst here and there
a peep of distant grey-blue wooded hills and spires of
far-off village churches piercing the sky-line called
LONDON versus COUNTRY LIFE. 7
our attention from tlic Immediate foreground. We
should have been hard to please had we been dis-
contented with our first day's stage.
London is a delightful place to live in, Init it is
also a delightful place to get out of. There are
times when one grows a little tired of the endless
rows of bricks and mortar, of everlasting dinner and
other parties more or less entertaining (often, alas !
the latter), of kettle-drums and wearying calls, and
' at-homes ' and other such-like amenities of modern
society. It is a relief and an unalloyed pleasure to
leave all these behind, and whatever else pertains to
town life, and to get right away into the free, re-
freshing, and restful country to rough it, even for a
change, if necessary, though there is no merit in
roughing it just for the sake of so doing, unless you
are obliged to, as there is no merit in eating badly
cooked food, which, unfortunately, in travelling one
is sometimes compelled to do, if you can avoid it.
At the same time it is a good thing to alter now
and ao-ain one's general mode of livinor, and to lead
for the nonce a simple, natural life. Some there are
wlio appear to leave London only to go to some
other spot as much like it as possible, some fashion-
able watering-place, cither inland or by the sea,
where tables dliotc are the order of the day, and you
are always in a crowd, where German bands are to
be found discoursing doubtful music, and negro min-
strels abound. For such, our mode of spending a
summer holiday would not possibly possess many
attractions, but for those who love the country and its
varying scenes, and they are, after all, th.e larger
A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
majority, I would most strongly recommend, if they
can find the time, to follow in our footsteps, or rather
wheel tracks. Those who have never driven across
country have indeed a pleasure in store.
The perfection of driving is, in my humble
opinion, with a phaeton and pair ; but with a single
horse and a two- wheeled ' trap ' a most thoroughly
enjoyable and comparatively inexpensive trip can be
taken. My first experience of road work for any
extended distance was in company with a clergyman
not overburdened with this world's goods, an en-
thusiastic advocate of drivingf tours. Together we
made an excursion of some hundreds of miles, with
a gig and a useful cob. The whole turn-out, horse
and conveyance (the latter of country build), probably
did not exceed, if it cost, lOo/. Of course, where
economy is not to be considered, there is no con-
veyance so delightful or generally useful for doing
the country as a well-built phaeton and a pair of
useful roadsters — a class of horse, by the way, unfortu-
nately not so readily picked up now as formerly. The
phaeton is par excellence the most perfect carriage
for road work ; it runs lightly and easily, it is com-
pact and, convenient, and affords plenty of room for
a reasonable amount of luggage, and space for all
necessary tools, &c. You are seated sufficiently
high to see the country well, and have a clear and
uninterrupted view ahead ; there is nothing in front
of you but your horses.
Our stage to Slough was an uneventful one, and
we duly arrived there in the cool of the evening.
We drove through the town to Salt Hill, where we
A DISAPPOINTMENT. 9
had been told there was a famous hosteh'ie — a rehc
of the old coaching clays, and which was still kept
open. Upon reaching this, great was our disap-
pointment to find it had only recently been closed.
This large, ample, ivy-covered building, even in its
deserted state, had such an inviting look, and was
so suggestive of old-fashioned comfort, that our
regret at not being able to find quarters there was
increased on seeing even the forsaken house. ^
However, regrets were of no avail ; there was
nothing for it but to return to Slough and take
what fortune offered us there in the shape of inns.
The Crown appeared from the outside appearance
the best, so we elected to rest there the night, and
soon our belongings were got down and our horses
enjoying their well-earned rest. As is our usual
custom, we strolled into the inn yard to watch the
horses being groomed and inspect their quarters;
and to see if we could gather any information, local
or otherwise, that might be of interest, from the
ostlers, who, as a class, we have generally found to
be both original and entertaining characters. Why
is it, I wonder, ostlers are so often characters } But
there is no rule without an exception, and in the
present case the ostler was decidedly the exception.
He had nothing to say, and apparently had no ideas
beyond his immediate work. It seems he was
employed to attend to the inn garden as well as to
look after the stables, thus combining two callings,
gardener and ostler, but not much of either we were
' Since burnt down to the ground. In former days sixty coaches
used to change here in the twenty-four hours.
lo J DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
inclined to imagine. Failing to find any entertain-
ment outside, we turned indoors and sought out the
worthy landlady. In the present instance the land-
lady proved to be an agreeable and a communicative
sort of body, and w^e managed to pass a very
pleasant half-hour chatting with her. In the course
of our conversation we learnt that the garden
attached to the hotel belonged at one time to Sir
William Herschel, and in it stood his famous
telescope. Our hostess also said amongst her many
guests she had at different times numerous actors
and actresses, who came down here to learn their
parts and for a change of air, being at the same
time within easy reach of town. Amongst others, a
long while ago. Miss Reynolds, of the Hay market,
came here. Her share in the profits during the
time Dundreary was being played was 12,000/.
After her last visit she sent the landlady as a
present a dozen silver forks and spoons. Judge
Hawkins, when Q.C., had apartments here, and in
the summer-time, when engaged in town, came
down to sleep nearly every night. Our landlady
told us she amused herself by farming in a small
way. The hotel was her business, farming her
pleasure. Fowl-keeping was her especial hobby,
connected with which a rather curious coincidence
happened to her lately : she had a hen sitting on
nine eggs, the whole of which were successfully
hatched, and all turned out to be cock birds ! She
stated, also, her name was Ford, and added laugh-
ingly that she was descended from one of the merry
wives of Windsor. In the course of our conversation
TRADITIONS OF THE PAST
we elicited nothing of much interest or worthy of
being retold, but then, Slough can hardly be called
a likely or a romantic spot. I have related our
conversation more to show how, even in such an
unpromising place, something of passing interest, .at
any rate, may be gleaned from those you come in
contact with, and an idle hour, that would probably
otherwise have been wasted, may be pleasantly
spent. Besides, you can never tell before you com-
mence a chat Vv^hat the result may be ; there is
alwa)'s the prospect of something worthy of notice
turning up. Away in the wilds of Yorkshire, the
Border counties, and generally in many of the more
remote portions of the kingdoni, in some of the old-
fashioned countr}^ inns, if you are fortunate enough
to get hold of the right sort of landlord or ostler,
you will be well rewarded if you can manage to lead
them on to relate something of what they may
chance to know, traditionary or otherwise, of the
country, places and people, past and present,
around. The task, too, is not a very difficult one.
Many a good story of the old coaching days and
the knights of the road, and, if )-ou are near the
coast, of the times when the smuggler was in his
glory, may yet be gathered by a good listener. But
you must lead your quarry gently along, and, above
all, be patient. These old country people will and
can only tell a story in their own roundabout way,
and though a long, rambling, and therefore often
tiresome way it is, still I am fain to confess the
stories nearly always lose by being related in a more
sober and condensctl manner.
A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
CHAPTER II.
Stoke Pogis — Windsor Castle — Bray Church and its adhesive Vicar —
Cliefden Woods — Highwaymen's Retreat — The British Tourist —
Maidenhead Bridge — A Country Lane — An English Hedge-row —
Builders and Buildings — Great Marlow — A Row on the River — An
Old World Mansion — Thames Fishing — Nearly coming to Grief —
A Legend of Marlow Bridge — We run against a Character — A
Haunted House — A Peculiar Ghost.
We had a fine warm morning on which to pro-
ceed with our journey, and as there was nothing of
particular interest to detain us in Slough, we made
an early start, the landlady coming to the door to
see us off. A mile north from this town is situated
the village and picturesque church of Stoke Pogis,
with its ' ivy-mantled tower.' In the former the
poet Gray resided, and in the ' God's acre ' of the
latter he lies buried, and it is supposed with much
reason to be the scene of his ' Elegy in a Country
Churchyard.'^
For some distance our road traversed a rather
flat country, which however afforded us a glorious
view of Windsor's royal castle, standing boldly out
a mass of sombre gray, its stern round tower and
battlements being gilded by the morning sun. How
proudly the grand old castle looked down upon the
fair landscape spread out all around and on the
silvery Thames, that glides so peacefully along the
' A claim, however, it contests with Upton Church, a mile S.E. of
Slough.
A FAMOUS VICAR. 13
bright green meadows at its foot ! How boldly that
massive keep which so nobly dominates the whole
pile stands forth on that isolated rock, that rises
so strangely from the luxurious Berkshire plain —
a plain that has witnessed many great and stirring
events connected with our ' rough island's story ! '
When the castle was first erected by William the
Conqueror, probably the whole country round was
little else than one gigantic forest : how different is
the prospect now !
A few miles farther on our way we caught a
glimpse of the ancient square tower of Bray Church,
almost hidden in a mass of dense foliage ; a church
noted for its adhesive and vivacious vicar, one Simon
Aleyn, who was in turns twice a Catholic and twice a
Protestant, most conveniently and impartially chang-
ing his religious views to suit the troublesome times
in wliich he lived. It is said of him that he chanced
to witness some mart)rs being burnt at the stake at
Windsor, and that he found the fire too hot to suit
his temperament, and thereupon he came to the con-
clusion Nature had never intended him for a martyr.
Tradition also asserts that, when upbraided for being
a turncoat and inconstant, he replied, ' He was of
all men the most constant, and strictly maintained
his principle, which was to live and die the Vicar of
Bray,'
Presently we reached Maidenhead Bridge, one of
Nature's beauty spots. Here we involuntarily pulled
up to admire the glorious view. To the right of us
were the wooded heights of Cliefden, a very slope
of sunny greenery. The scenery had now entirely
14 ^-i DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
changed its character : the flat plains were left be-
hind, the country became hilly, and the hills were
well wooded. Trees of all kinds make np the
Cliefden Woods, from the light and graceful silver
birch to the dark and solemn yew. But to see this
spot in perfection it should be viewed in the golden
autumn, when Nature is so lavish with her tints ; then
the woods are one blaze of rich colours. Cliefden
House, a comparatively modern building, stands
high above the woods on a grassy plateau ; the
original mansion, a fine structure, was erected by
George Villiers, the famous Duke of Buckingham,
all traces of which have long since disappeared : it was
burnt down. The ancient mansion was of interest
on account of the national and well-known air of
' Rule, Britannia,' being composed and first played
there before a company, amongst whom Frederick,
the then Prince of Wales, was present.
On the slopes hidden by the woods are several
caves said to have been the retreat of some noted
highwaymen in the olden time ; and such is just
possible, for the road we were on was, and is now
for that matter, the great main road to the West of
En^dand, though it cannot now be called the mail or
even turnpike road; still, however, the Western mails
thunder along within sight of the old way at some
six times the speed they used to travel, yet in times
past the Quicksilver mail was by no means ac-
counted slow. There is one advantage the traveller
of old had over his more speedy modern railway
rival : he had time to observe the beauties of the
country through which he progressed, with all its
THE modermY tourist. 15
t^radual and ever-changing' scenery and its varying
features and incidents. There is a vast amount of
difference between passing through a country and
travelHng through it. To the tourist of the present
day (with notable exceptions of course) rapid transit
appears to be of the very essence of his journey ; to
rush about hither and thither and see as many places
as he possibly can appears for the time to be the end
and aim of his existence. Such a one always re-
minds me of Humboldt's friend, of whom he said
' he had gone farther and seen less than anyone he
knew.'
It is really a marvel to me how some men will
scamper over the Continent as though their lives
depended upon the number of places they see. They
take hurried glances at the scenery through which
they pass ; they can hardly be said to observe it ; they
obtain simply ' hurrygraphs ' (yes, that is the word I
want) of it. It is astonishing, too, to notice how
the active and perspiring Briton will tramp through
endless galleries abroad, whilst he seldom if ever
visits the treasure stores he has round about him
in London.
But to return to our subject. We rested long on
that bridge drinking in the beauty and inspiration of
the scene. Below us, a shimmering mass of silver
quivering in the light, was the tranquil Thames, glid-
ing smoothly on its way ; as it appeared to us then,
we wondered to ourselves if in all the world there
was another river so fair. I have said the Thames
was a shimmering mass of silver, but in iriilh those
terms hardly describe it properly ; I wasstating more
r6 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
the general impression the river gave us than the
strict reahty. Looking at it quietly, we presently
noticed the glittering mass was made up of many
and varying tints. Silvery tones truly predominated
everywhere, but for a small space just under the
banks it was of a dark brown hue; yonder, in shadow,
it was a light transparent raw sienna ; but the chief
mass was of lighter colouring, consisting of tender
greys, brightened here and there with a sparkling as
of countless diamonds, where the minute and almost
unnoticed ripples caught the sunlight.
Lovely though the prospect was, we could not
afford to remain on that one spot too long, for did
we not intend to rest at the classic city of Oxford
that night ? and we had still many miles of pleasant
country to traverse before we should reach our
destination. We trotted along at a good pace
through the long street of Maidenhead, noticing on
our way the cosy looking hostelrie of the Bear,
where we found such comfortable quarters on a
previous journey. We had a stiff hill to mount out
of the town, but were well repaid for the climb, as
shortly after our arrival on the top we came upon a
wide open common, which was swept by a delicious
bracing air ; the breeze was life-giving and we
gloried in it. We pulled up our horses here for a
time, that we might enjoy it to the utmost. Here
we turned to the right, and left behind us the dusty
main road and entered upon a country lane.
I wonder is there anything in the world more
beautiful to drive along than an English country
lane ? I can hardly imagine there can be. In what
RURAL WAYS. 17
a delightfully ciUicing nicinncr il turns and twists
about, revealing at each bend some fresh and un-
expected loveliness to charm the eye ! And then
the glorious but unappreciated hedgerows that are
alwa)s there to be found in perfection, how beautiful
they are ! What endless varieties of plants, flowers,
and trees go to compose them ; how the birds build
and sing^ and rejoice in their tangled recesses ! The
bramble, with its blossoms of tiny white petals and
delicious fruit which childi-en so love to gather, the
sweet-scented honeysuckle, the fragrant hawthorn,
all snow-white in summer and red with berries in
winter, the dog-rose, the sweet briar, besides wild
hops, teazles, ground ivy, gorse, privet, and count-
less other plants, abound in them. And of flowers
and grasses to be found, the number is simply
legion. Surely there is much to admire in an
ordinary English hedge. It must be remembered I
have onl)- mentioned but a very few of the wonder-
ful variety of plants, flowers, and shrubs, which, with
various kinds of trees, go to make up that most
beautiful and thoroughly English feature in the
landscape, a common every-day hedgerow.
A country lane and a rural footpath are delight-
ful ways to wander along. I wonder wh)' it is they
are so little valued ; is it because they are open and
free to all ? How strange it is that, irrespective of
worth, that which is cheapest and easiest obtained is
generally in this world the least valued ! Perhaps
because they cost nothing and we have not to pay
to observe them is the reason wh)' we so seldom
notice the glorious cloudscapes and sunsets that are,
C
1 8 .-/ DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
even in smoky, foggy London, continually to be
seen. Or is it that we have not yet learnt the
beauty of the common things and sights that we
have every day before us ? I have known people
who could see no especial beauty in a certain — to
them — well-known scene or landscape till an artist
had interpreted it for them.
Whilst our thoughts Vv'ere wandering much in
this strain, our horses were taking us gaily along,
and soon Great Marlow came into sight, the steeple
of its modern church looking far better in the
distance than it does close to. The outline and
proportions of this are good enough, but the details
are poor and weak, and are all too suggestive of the
modern builder. Good work and good designs
should bear close inspection. Still, we could for-
give the church and its steeple for the sake of the
place. Not that there is any special beauty or
picturesqueness about the town, apart from its situ-
ation, but its quiet naturalness pleases one.
That tower and church set us thinking about
builders and buildings generally. An architect,
whilst he has many advantages over an artist, must
ever bear in mind he has disadvantages and special
difficulties also. It is necessary for him to so design
his work that it will look well both at a distance and
near to. That this may be the case it is impera-
tively requisite that proportion should be carefully
studied, and detail so applied to construction as to
harmonise with the same on closer inspection, not
added to it for the sake of ornament. There is,
and there should be in all good work, sufficient
THE BUILDERS OF OLD. 19
construction visible to afford means for ample
decorative treatment in the shape of carvings, &:c.,
without adding false additions for that purpose,
which additions are inevitably weak and always
betray their origin. On personally analyzing the
best work of the old builders — and I take it that is
the best work the world has yet seen, or possibly
ever will see — it appears to me very evident the
buildings were planned primarily to suit various
special requirements : construction was honestly but
not ostentatiously or needlessly everywhere shown
and not hidden ; it was then decorated and made
a pleasing and a natural feature of. Whether the
edifice was a cathedral, an abbey, a church, a
mansion, or even a simple cottage, it was all the
same, only, of course, the decorations varied, being
in keeping w^ith the structure. The result of this
was a pleasing and an artistic whole. There was no
straining after effect, for it was there alread)-. There
were nowhere, so far as I have been able to trace in
the old work, any meaningless features introduced
for the sake of novelty ; there is an entire freedom
from even a suspicion of it. Irregularity, as well
as regularity, is certainly to be found, but the former
was not employed for its own sake alone, or in any
way studied, as is so evident in some of the modern
so-called Queen Anne's buildings. No, it came
naturally and of necessity ; the love of oddities and
eccentricities had not arisen, yet nowhere had the
old structures any suspicion of sameness or tameness
about them. In fine, the buildings of old were
clearly designed for the man. man was not made to
c 2
20 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
suit the buildings, and honesty of purpose was
everywhere apparent.
But enoucrh of this digression. In due course
we found ourselves at Great Mario w. Close to the
water we noticed a comfortable-looking riverside
hotel, but as there were evidently no stables attached
to it, and as these were for us a sine qiid non, we
had to drive up the town to another inn at the
further end, where we fared exceedingly and un-
expectedly well. Unexpectedly, I have said, for
we had the supreme pleasure of having our mid-clay
meal served to us on the lawn of a delightful old
garden, shaded by trees with standard roses and
many coloured flowers in beds around. We enjoyed
our al fresco entertainment all the more because it
was so unlooked for. I must, however, say it was we
who suggested the proceeding. On arriving at the
hotel we were shown into a pleasant low-ceilinged
room looking upon a shady garden. I'his latter so
tempted us that we asked if we might have our
repast out there beneath the shade of an over-
hanging tree. Our request was readily granted,
though the maid appeared somewhat astonished at
it, as did another sojourner resting there, who
elected to stay in the comparatively stuffy room.
Tastes diff(;r. Who would not prefer, on a bright
summer day, a fresh garden to being boxed up in a
close room ? But I verily believe the individual in
question thought our simple request a rather curious
one to make. However, we cared not what others
thought ; we had come into the country to enjoy
ourselves and we intended to do so, free for the
A JiOW ON THE RIVER. 21
time from Llic trammels and rcd-tapcism of modern
civilization as understood in towns.
It was a warm day, the sun shone steadily and
brightly down, the country looked hot ; hazy waving
lines of heated air rose up quivering from the land.
I was going to say it was a regular old-fashioned
summer day, but I remembered wc have had of late
as fine and as hot summers as ever had our fore-
fathers. Owing to the heat we determined to rest
our horses here for a while, and start later on in the
day when it would be cooler. In the meantime we
leisurely strolled down to the river, and, procuring
a boat, paddled gently up stream to the shelter
of some overhanging trees we noticed on the other
side, intending to anchor there and enjoy the peace-
ful restful scene, listening only to the soothing music
the rippling waters made against our bow and watch
ing the countless leaves overhead all transparent in
the golden sunshine. But it was not to be — we were
surrounded by too much beauty ; just a short dis-
tance higher up was such a delicious looking nook
with many broad-leaved water-lilies sleeping on the
surface of the stream, that we were induced to lazily
proceed so far. On arriving at this spot we noticed
still further ahead an ancient time-worn grey church
tower, with great elms around, close to the river,
throwing its reflection in the quiet flood below.
How could we resist the temptation of a further row
to ins[)cct tliis picturesque old pile ? There was a
landing there for those who cared or who were
obliged to go to church by water — a rather romantic
and novel way of church-going it struck us, in tiiese
2 2 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
matter-of-fact days. And then an old mansion
attracted our attention further up stream, and so we
proceeded by degrees along, delighting in the wonder-
ful and chanirinor beauties all around.
I have said an old mansion attracted us. The said
mansion we learnt afterwards was Bisham Abbey ; it
is a grand old pile, weather-stained and worn, a very
picture for an artist's brush. We wondered we had
never noticed any representation of it in one of the
water-colour galleries. It must surely have figured in
some and have escaped our observation ; it will hardly
do so again. It was a regular old-fashioned rambling
building, that spoke in the present plainly of the past,
with its diamond leaded panes, quaintly shaped win-
dows, irregular chimney stacks, and old grey tower of
ancient date over all. It appeared to us as though it
ought to possess by rights a family ghost, one of the
genuine old-fashioned sort, that tradition asserts used
in those good old times to wander about the gloomy
panelled chambers and shadowy dim corridors of
haunted houses frightening every one out of their
wits, never appearing before midnight and at cock-
crow conveniently vanishing away — quite a differ-
ent article from your modern nineteenth-century
impostor who raps at tables in the garish light of
day and generally makes himself supremely ridi-
culous. At any rate, if it could not boast of a ghost,
it seemed to us it should have attached to it some
weird legend of the long ago. How some places
impress you, almost haunt you, whether you will or
no ! There may be no apparent cause for the fact that
one particular old building should thus excite your
LOTOS EATING. 23
special attention more than another similar one, but
so it is ; possibly some old associations half-forc,^otten
may have something' to do with the matter. Any-
how, this old pile had a special fascination for us.
Here we anchored our boat and began a sketch,
which, however, was never finished. The scene was
all the most fastidious sketcher could desire, but
somehow the place, the time, the hour, and the
absolute peace around were not conducive to work.
Watching the slowly gliding river had a slumberous
influence over us ; and, by the way, it is only such
quiet gliding waters you can watch without becoming
restless. We simply felt inclined to do nothing, and
we did it ; the very fact of existing on such a day
was happiness supreme. It is not always or every-
where an active mind can find doino- nothing" a de-
lightful occupation. Such rest for the brain in these
days of hurry and bustle is an invaluable tonic, and
should always be indulged in when possible.
But time was going by, and we felt we must
presently return to our hotel, but we were in no
hurry to do so. Why should we hurry ? Time was
all our own. Ah ! that is one of not the least of
the pleasures of our mode of travel, the not being
obliged to hasten away from any spot against our
inclination. What though the shadows were just
begfinninof to leni^then ! It mattered not to us ; we
were not accountable to any one for our movements
or our time. Starting so late, we should have to
make an evening drive of it on to Oxford, where
we miMit or mi^rht not arrive before midni<>ht, but
we rather rejoiced than otherwise that this was so.
24 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
However, all things, good as well as bad, come to an
end in this world, and so at last the time came for
us to weigh our anchor, or rather the iron grapnel
that did duty for the same, and come ashore. As we
floated down stream we noticed a punt with three men
in it busily fishing — at least they were continually
pulling their lines up, but apparently catching nothing.
\\ hat a pity it is there are nowadays no salmon in
this fine river, and that a Thames trout should be
such a rarity and a curiosity ! As late as 1820, this
noble fish had not forsaken this stream, one of
seventy-two pounds being captured in that year by
one Robert Coxen, a waterman, at Twickenham.
Salmon still annually make their appearance at the
Thames mouth, and if only they could make their
way through the dirty water and filth we throw
needlessly into the river, there would be as good
sport for anglers west of Twickenham as there is
now north of the Tweed. I do not profess great
knowledge on matters piscatorial, but the idea has
more than once occurred to me, as the Thames and
Severn are in direct water communication by canal,
whether it would not be possible to re-introduce the
lordly salmon by this route. It appears to me at
any rate a feasible project, and one worth an ex-
periment. If it proved a failure the loss would not
be much, and if a success, the gain would be great.
Arriving at Marlow Bridge, we had a very narrow
escape of coming to grief — a steam launch almost ran
into us ; as it was, the shave was so close that the
wash of its screw almost swamped us. Unless care-
fully steered and run at a moderate speed, these
PUPPY PIE! 25
outcomes of modern civilization are almost as great
a nuisance on the river, and as dangerous, as are the
traction engines on the common roads. It is a pity
that the owners of such craft will not remember to
so enjoy themselves as not to interfere with the
pleasures of others. Unfortunately, one inconside-
rate owner may cause a whole class to come under
the ban and malediction of Thames boating-men
and fishermen, whom they sadly disturb, even when
wishful not to do so.
The mention of this bridge reminds me of rather
a good story connected with it. Those who have
boated much on the Thames have most probably —
in fact they could hardly have escaped hearing at
some time or another a query addressed by one
bargee to another in chaff, or as a back-handed sort
of a compliment, as follows : ' Who ate puppy-pie
under Marlow Bridge ? ' Now for the explanation
of how this curious query arose, and the stor}'.
Many years ago it came to the knowledge of the
landlord of the inn at Medmenham, some few miles
further up the river, that some bargemen had planned
a raid upon his larder. ' Forewarned is forearmed,'
and the landlord prepared for the robbers. But how
do you imagine he prepan^d — by carefully watching
his larder or making it additionally secure ? Nothing
of the sort, he was far too great a genius for that.
It so happened tliat mine host liad some i)uppies
that he was going to drown ; tlicse he caused to be
made into a pie with a tempting crust over all. The
bargees duly came and carried off the pie in triumph,
and deemin<'' they had arrived at a safe distance,
26 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
anchored their craft under Marlow Bridge, and there
enjoyed their stolen dainty, beheving all the while
— deluded mortals! — that they were indulging in
rabbit-pie.
On returning to the hotel we ordered the horses
to be put to, and, while this was being done, indulged
ourselves with tea in the garden. And we were
pleased we did, for we chanced to meet there a
regular character — ^some old book-worm or lawyer we
judged him to be — who was amusing or resting him-
self down here fishing. He proved to be a very
sociable and entertaining individual, and we had a
long and very interesting conversation with him.
We only wished we had had more spare time to
enjoy his company. He appeared to know the
country roundabout well, and we took the oppor-
tunity to question liim about Bisham Abbey, to
discover if, by chance, he might know anything of
the place. Did he not ! We found we had struck
upon a veritable mine of information respecting it ;
and after all, certainly enough, our intuition was
not at fault, for there actually was a ghost story
connected with the house, and, moreover, one of the
ri'j-ht sort, the history of which and the place ran
thus, as related to us, quoting from memory: — It
appears the mansion had been originally a priory,
and was converted into a residence in the reign of
Henry VHI. At one time the house belonged to
one Sir Thomas Hoby, who had charge of the
Princess Elizabeth, who, under his care, resided
here for a considerable period. It is, however, with
the wife of the gallant knight that we have to deal.
A CONSIDERATE GHOST. 27
as far as the ghost is concerned, for she it is who
haunts (or is supposed to) the building. It seems
she had a son, one Master Thomas Hoby, who was
either a very stupid or a very careless boy, or
perhaps a liltle of both ; at any rate, he could never
write a line in his copy-book without adorning it with
sundry blots, which said blots so enraged his mother
that in a fit of ill-temper — she was not an over
amiable dame at the best of times — she so whipped
poor Master Tommy that he shortly afterwards
died. And her spirit is said at midnight to wander
restlessly about one especial chamber — a white body
with black hands and face, making things very dis-
agreeable for any one who would be hardy enough
to venture into that particular portion of the house.
Considerate and convenient ghost, to keep to one
chamber ! It is not a little remarkable in connection
with this story that in or about the year 1838, whilst
some alterations were being made to a window-
shutter in the room aforesaid, a copy-book of the
period of Elizabeth was found amongst some rub-
bish behind the woodwork, covered with blots.
Our newly made acquaintance was full of strange
anecdotes and histories of places round about ; he
informed us that we had that day passed by a spot
opposite to Cliefden, called Whitcplace, where exists
an ancient avenue haunted by the grim ghost of a
lady, who solemnly promenades up and down it on
dark nights. This ghost is peculiar in being head-
less, and tradition asserts she is condemned thus to
walk the earth for centuries as a punishment for
transgressions committed when in the liesh ; but
28 J DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
what the particular wickednesses were, we were un-
fortunately unable to learn, for our horses had
already been at the door for some time, impatiently
pawing the ground, the light was gradually fading,
and it was hieh time we were off if we were to reach
Oxford that day at all. So, reluctantly bidding our
friend good-bye, for we regretted exceedingly we
could not continue our chat with him, we once more
proceeded on our way — not, however, before we
thanked him for his interesting anecdotes and
Ieo"ends, which had entertained us not a little.
29
CHAPTER III.
A Late Start — A Drive in the Dark — A Dilapidated Signpost — A
Curious Inscription — Oxford — Architects and Artists— The English
Climate — Woodstock — A Comfortable Inn— Country Hostelries —
The Tradition of Rosamond's Bower — Rosamond's Tomb — Blen-
heim Palace — An Ancient Doorway — Sir John Vanbrugh — An
Epitaph — Wild England — A Rough Road — Chapel House — The
Rollich Stones — Rough Quarters — Old Buildings.
Tin: sun was setting in a golden glory behind the
wooded hills as we left Great Marlow, the trees
sent out long bars of shadow across our way ; and,
as we had a heavy stage over an unknown road and
no moon to help or cheer us on our journey, we
hurried along so as to make the most of the parting-
day. How beautiful the country appeared through
which we passed at that tranquil hour! Golden lio-hts
and pearly grey shadows were everywhere, and a
feeling of mystery was all around. Somehow to us
it hardly appeared like our every day world, it was
a land spiritualized through whicli we journeyed
that evening. The sun's last rays rested lovingly
upon the wooded heights ahead, which were a mass
of rich warm colouring, contrasting strongly with the
cool grey shade into which the vallc)- was thrown.
About us the foliage of the tallest elms were all
resplendent with golden light, and here and there
a gleam of brightness flashed through the o-Ioom,
showino" where the windows of some house or cot-
30 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
tage had caught the glow of the sky above. And
oh ! the beauty of that sky ; the country was all so
sombre in tone that there was nothinfj to distract
one's attention from it. There was a mellow amber
radiance in the horizon, gradually, imperceptibly al-
most, fading away into a pale greenish blue above,
and across this blue we watched fairy isles of ruby-
tinted and gilded clouds sailing northwards away,
and from out of which one star trembled in the soft
light.
We had hardly made five miles of our stage
before the darkness, which had been creeping on
slowly but surely the while, overtook us, and with
the darkness came a strange solemn silence. By
degrees all rural sounds had ceased ; the bellowing
of distant cattle, the tinkling of far-off sheep bells,
the shouting of the labourer returning from his toil,
were heard no more. The last load of hay had
gone home, the shepherd had left his fold, the birds
had sought their nests, and no traveller, belated or
otherwise, made his appearance on our lonely way.
Lonely, but on that very account enjoyable beyond
expression. The world was still — our world, at any
rate — and at rest, but the silence was not for long ;
from out of the fragrant hawthorn hedges presently
the nightingale poured forth his unequalled song.
We stopped long to listen to his enchanting strain.
I wonder would the bird be considered as great a
marvel were he to sing in the daylight instead of
the witching night time ? Certainly the calm even-
ing hour and silence serve to emphasize his notes ;
there is nothinf^- to distract the listener's attention.
DIFFICULT DRIVING. 31
The nightingale has no competitor. There is an in-
describable charm in the fierce yet easeful harmony
of his singing — the piercing, passionate strains he
pours forth, with their long drawn dying cadences,
together with a certain plaintiveness and amount of
pathos.
Reader, have you ever taken a long drive, say
of ten miles or more, through a strange country on
a really dark night ? If not, you do not know what
a difficult feat it is. It is truly a simple enough
matter on a known road, and this again is made
easier if your horses are accustomed to, or at all
acquainted with it. If your way is a familiar one,
no matter how dark the night may be, you are all
right. Knowing what you have to expect renders
) our task a comparatively easy one, though care of
course is even then necessary. But ours was a very
different outlook ; all our way before us was abso-
lutel)' unknown ; we had an Egyptian darkness
ahead and around, for heavy lowering clouds now
obscured the stars, and a halt had to be called in
order to light our lamps, which done, we boldly
plunged into the mass of grey green darkness, a
darkness in which sky, hills, woods, and foreground
were blended in one bewildering whole.
I well remember on a similar night, man)- )cars
ago now, a friend of niine who undertook to drive
a party of us home — young fellows returning late
front O.xford to a country house some ten miles awa\-
— managed somehow, to this da)- I never could make
out how, to land us in a large grass field, and round
and roLuid that [)ri cious In ■Id, luunping about in a tcr-
A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
rible manner, lamps out, did we go, endeavouring to
find the gap or gate we must have entered by. Even-
tually this was discovered, and we again proceeded
rejoicing on our way, when for a change our driver,
who in reality was not a bad whip, but the intense
darkness was too much for him, suddenly landed
us in a ditch. On the present occasion, not being
ambitious to renew our former experience, we pro-
ceeded slowly and cautiously along ; but we soon
found out that, though slowness and caution were
very good things in their way, still if we did not
make a little more speed Oxford would not see us
before the dawn of day. Driving fast on a fresh
road, when one could not see half-a-dozen yards
ahead, was perhaps hardly conducive to safety ; but
a certain amount of risk had to be run, unless we
wished to be out on the road all night. So, taking
the horses well in hand, and making use of the horn
from time to time, we dashed along at a good pace ;
so difficult and deceptive was the light, or rather
absence of light, that we could only tell by the
lamps, showing whether the traces were tight or slack,
if we were descending hills or otherwise. Once
we nearly ran into a bank of stones, which, appear-
ing light against a dark mass of foliage, we took
to be a turn of the road, and almost directly after-
wards a gig on the wrong side of the way without
lamps all but collided with us. After passing through
a village, the warm gleaming lights of which were
most welcome and appeared very cheery in contrast
to the gloom we had left, we began to mount and
apparendy reached high and open ground, and for
W'flfCIT WAYl 33
a wonder we could trace our road, a suspicion of
lighter grey just telling out of the surrounding
sombreness, some little way in front. Here we put
on steam and trotted along at a rattling pace, when,
suddenly rising up spectrally before us, we half saw,
half felt, an old dilapidated signpost; this was of no
service, however, for on pulling up and examining it
by the aid of our lamps we found two of the three
arms were gone, and the remaining one was ille-
gible ! But if it was of no use to direct us on our
way, at least it set us thinking, and a horrible idea
would suggest itself, that after all we might possibly
be travelling in a wrong direction, as it would by no
means have been a difficult matter to have taken a
false turning, and we almost wished we had not
been too proud or too hurried to have asked if we
were ' all right ' at the village we had last passed
through. A long stop was made on this lonely, de-
solate spot, and our maps and guide-books were got
out and carefull) consulted. The consultation was
not a very satisfactory one, as our map appeared
rather hazy at that particular locality, and only
showed two out of the three roads. However, it was
very evident our way was either straight on or to
the rio^ht ; it was a serious matter to decide which.
Eventually, after another careful examination of our
chart, we concluded to steer an even course straight
forward. So the word was given, and we found
ourselves once again rumbling and jolting over a
not too even road. The mention of this signpost
reminds me of a most extraordinary one we came
across some years ago in one of the southern coun-
D
34 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
ties, bearing the following strange inscription : —
' This is a bridle path to Faversham ; if you can't
read this, you had better keep to main road.' This
was evidently erected before the era of School Boards.
High up as we were, the air was bracing and
cool, not to say chilly, but, donning our ulsters, we
drove merrily along, although in a happy state of
uncertainty as to whether we were speeding on to
our wished-for destination or whether our road would
lead us elsewhere. But after all, we reasoned, what
signified it ? we supposed eventually we should arrive
somewhere. Roads generally do lead to inhabited
places, in England.
With all its uncertainties and mild excitements, it
was a most delightful and enjoyable drive. How
musically the horn sounded on the stilly air as we
entered a dark wood or turned a sudden corner !
what a weird light the lamps cast around, only
making the darkness more visible ! But after all
they were better than nothing; at least, by their
aid we managed to keep on the road, and that
was something. How strangely too, and distinctly,
sounded the steady tramp ! tramp ! of the horses,
the crunching noise of the wheels over the gravel
road, and the measured ratding of the pole chains !
What a clatter and din we made as we dashed
through the sleepy villages, with here and there a
stray light in the upper windows of their cottages !
For sheer fun we would give a loud blast on the
horn as we passed through them, much, doubdess,
to the astonishment of their quiet and peaceful in-
habitants.
AT OXFORD. 35
Late, very late, agreeably tired, and exceedingly
jolly, we arrived at Oxford, and found, in spite of
the unseasonable hour, comfortable quarters and a
welcome at the Randolph Hotel, one of the few
modern hostel ries, the number of which could be
counted on our fingers, that we can praise without
reserve. Oxford is one of the most beautiful and
delightful cities to visit anywhere to be found ; I
do not say to reside. in, for that is a very different,
matter. There are many reasons why a city which is
an agreeable one in which to make a short stay may
be the reverse for a long occupation. Some of these in
Oxford are patent ; and besides, whatever the advan-
tages and beauties of the city may be, it has one unfor-
tunate drawback, and one that cannot, alas ! be over-
come is its situation : it lies low, and is surrounded by
level meadows which are often under water. How-
ever, we bothered our heads very litde about its
situation or its salubrity. We spent a most delight-
ful morning wandering over and amongst the grand
old colleges, with their many treasures of carved oak
and stained glass and pictures, and, above all, admir-
ing their wealth of weather-stained stonework, their
quaintly-shaped gabled roofs, their mullioned win
dows of warm grey and often crumbling stone. These,
tooether with the fresh orreen of lawns and trees in
close conjunction, form a striking and effective whole.
The stone of which many, if not all, the colleges are
built is of a somewhat fragile sort, and this has
weathered quickly ; thus the buildings have a look
of greater age than is actually theirs. It is a pity
D 2
36 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
tliat a more durable material was not originally em-
ployed.
We did not resume our journey till late in the
afternoon, and then only took a short stage of eight
miles on to Woodstock, in order to give our horses
a little rest after the hard work of the day, or rather
night, before. We had a lovely afternoon for our
drive, an afternoon of soft airs and mellow sunshine,
with a deep blue sky and rolling clouds overhead.
Such da\s, thouo-h somewhat scarce, are after all
not quite such rare occurrences as people think
who always appear to imagine that the poor and
much-abused English climate is the very worst pos-
sible, or nearly so, in the world. Has not Charles II.
said it was only in England one was enabled to join
in outdoor sports all the year round, the weather
never being too hot nor too cold for an average
healthy mortal to exercise and enjoy himself in the
open ? Nathaniel Hawthorne, who never praised
an)thing English without just reason, said, ' Eorall in
all it was the best climate in the world.' An Ame-
rican gentleman, Mr. Andrew Carnegie, who drove
from Brighton to Inverness, crossing the Atlantic
for the special purpose, speaks highly in praise of it :
and several other strangers have written and spoken
cf its good qualities. Is not this a little singular ?
Surely it cannot be such a bad climate as we imagine ?
True, there are certain times in the year when it is
by no means everything one could desire, indeed,
very much the reverse ; but is there anywhere in the
world to be found a perfect all-round climate ? If
so, I have failed to discover the spot. I have been
COMFORTABLE QUARTERS. 37
to California— tlic land of ihe sun— it certainly is not
there ; nor is it in the American hemisphere, north
or south ; and in Europe I have not been able to
find it. You can even leave, if you wish, Ventnor,
Torquay, or Bournemouth in the winter, and proceed
to the Riviera in search of sunshine, and it may
chance you will find, as others have before you, that
you have not much bettered yourself; but then the
Riviera is abroad, and that is everything !
We had a pleasant drive, and did not arrive in
the picturesque and once ro)'al town of Woodstock
till nearly sunset ; the country was too beautiful to
hurry through, and the day was not one of those
that make you wish to hasten along. We passed
one or two pleasandy-situated homes on our wa)-,
looking very peaceful and restful.
At Woodstock we pulled up at the Bear, which,
after a drive round on a tour of inspection of the
various hostelries in the place, we judged to be the
best. There was a show of plants and llowers about
the house, and from long experience of road-work
we have alwa)s found these to be a good sign ; and so
we drove confidentially into the ample courtyard of
the inn, and handed our steeds over to the care of
the ostler. The landlady — a comely, cheery sort of
body — came to welcome us, and made us feel at once
quite at home, and we knew somehow instinctively
our lot had fallen into good quarters. Many an old-
world hostel oS. this sort has it been our good fortune
during our journeys in various parts of the country
to come across. One especially rises up now belore
nie — a long, low, rambling, two-storied, ivy-covered
A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
building, with grey stone niullioncd windows, and
a hospitable-looking porch covered with fragrant
honeysuckle that speaks as it were a welcome. It
is a buildinc: such as an artist would have desis^ned —
it is both a poem and a picture, with its high-pitched
gables, its red-tiled, lichen-laden roof, its wreathing,
ample chimneys, its irregular sky-line, and general
old-world look and flavour. A glamour of romance
seems inseparable from such places. It is an hos-
telrie Chaucer's pilgrims might well have rested at —
a building hoary with age, and full of past memories.
How delightfully and lovingly one can look upon
and enjoy such a gem of old-time w^ork ! When will
the modern builder learn to do the like ? Perhaps
I may state, for the curiosity of my readers, that this
said hostelrie is within twenty-five miles of London,
though from the appearance of the place and its
surroundings it might as well be a hundred ; we came
across it on our wanderings one day, and a more
pleasant surprise than coming, suddenly and totally
unprepared for anything of the sort, upon that
charming old building, we have hardly ever ex-
perienced. But I must say no more — perchance I
have said too much already ; I would not have the
place become known and spoilt for worlds. The
very nearness to town makes me tremble for its
fate,
Woodstock was once a royal town, the manor
house of that name being pulled down when the
magnificent palace of Blenheim was built and given
by a grateful nation to John Churchill, the first
Duke of Marlborough, together with the fine park
PRINCESS AND MJLA'M.U/). 39
and a valuable and an extensive grant ol land, since
which time the memory of the manor as a regal
residence seems to have been forgotten, although
this estate had previously belonged uninterruptedly
to the kind's of Eui-land for over eio;ht hundred
years. Alfred the Great had his palace here, and
it was a favourite residence of Henry I., who hunted
in the park, as likewise did Henry III. Edward
the Black Prince was born in the old mansion, and
in it the Princess Elizabeth was kept prisoner by
her sister. It is said that when here, one day whilst
gazing abstractedly out of her barred casement
window, she noticed a milkmaid passing and singing
some ditty. All at once envious tears came into
the Princess's eyes, and she longed for the free and
happy life of the country maiden.
But perhaps Woodstock is more famous for the
tradition of P^air Rosamond's bower than anything
else. Reofardinof the fate of Pair Rosamond, it will
be seen that the ordinarily accepted tradition is at
fault, for it is pretty certain and clear from local
history that at once, upon the Queen's discovery, the
girl was sent into the safe keeping of a convent. In
the convent she died, and the King ordered her to
be buried before the high altar of the chapel con-
nected with it, and caused a handsome monument
to be erected to her memory, with the following
inscription : —
Hie jacet in tumba Rosa Mundi non Rosa Munda,
Non redolet sed olct owx ledolcre solet.
An epitaph not to be translated into English without
spoiling the play on words which the reader cannot
40 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
fail to observe. Respecting" the tradition of the
bower, it appears from an old work that a traveller
in the )'ear 1636 visiting this spot remarked upon
the ruins of it, consisting, as he described them, of
' many strong walls of rough masonry, some arched
over, with numerous strange winding ways and
turnings.' So that after all there is possibly some
foundation of truth for the legend to rest upon.
In the morning, before we started upon our
day's pilgrimage, we strolled along to see the park
and the exterior of the palace — we had no wish nor
inclination to see the interior, so did not visit it —
just for the sake of saying we had been there.
Besides, if we had taken the time to inspect every-
thing of interest we came across on our journey, I
hardly know when it would have been finished ; we
should probably not have arrived in Scotland till
the snow had mantled her mountains and peaks.
One man's rest may be in reading books, another's
in climbing mountains, or taking pedestrian tours ;
or, if a very wise individual, In driving about country
like ourselves, which latter can be made to combine
a good many things ; but an endless rushing about
in a vain struggle to see everything or as much
as possible, is no rest whatever, it is simply hard
work for brain and body.
On our way to the park we noticed an ancient
church, built possibly when Woodstock town was
only a village, not that it is a large place even now
— quite the opposite. The church is a curious and
not over harmonious conglomeration of various
styles and periods of architecture ; one portion of
AN ARCIIITECTS EriTAril. 41
it is, however, well worth seeing;, and that is a fine
old Norman doorway, with its characteristic zigzag
mouldings. I trust it is still there. When wc paid
our visit, the restorer apparently (we might possibly
have been mistaken) was about to commence opera-
tions, and scaffolding was being erected perilously
near the door. Blenheim Park is very fine, beauti-
fully timbered, and with a pleasant contrast of stilly
water and waving woodlands. From it we had a
comprehensive view of the [Kilace. Of the grandeur
of the situation of this there can be no doubt ; but
as for the merits of the building, they are not beyond
criticism. It struck us as beinof a massive, dull,
heavy, pretentious (a good many adjectives, but I
require them all) looking erection, gloomy enough
for a workhouse, and ugly enough for barracks. Sir
John Vanbrugh was the architect, of whom it was
said his epitaph should be written thus : — ■
Lie heavy upon him, O Earth, for he
iHath Laid many a heavy weight on thee !
We always thought that the writer of the above had
done the famous architect an injustice, but after
seeing the pile of stone known by the name of the
Palace of Blenheim we quite agreed with the
epitaph,
W'oodstock is a pleasant little town, a place to
stroll about in (there is nothing else to do), and yet
not be altogether dull. But we did not do much
loafing ; the weather was so fine and deliciously cool,
it tempted us to proceed, for it might not thus always
smile upon us ; and besides, beautiful though the
southern scenery was, with a rare beauty all its own,
42 J DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
still we were impatient to get north amongst the
heather-clad hills and far-stretching moors, where
one can wander knee-deep in bracken, and where
Nature disports herself in her wildest, most care-
less, and freest moods. So we ordered the phaeton
round at once on returning from our stroll, and soon
we were again merrily bowling along our way, the
horses being somewhat fresh after their easy stage
of yesterday.
Our road began well ; pleasing rural scenery was
the order of the diiy, and level running — * pushing-
ground,' as such was significantly called in the old
coaching days. Jt was upon similar favourable
stretches that the mails in the olden times, before
the iron horse usurped their place, made up for
lost time when necessary, and generally, owing to
the extra speed, it was upon such portions of the
way accidents mostly occurred, not on the hilly
stages, as one might naturally suppose. It was the
speed that did the mischief; the pace made on
favourable 'pushing-ground' when the mail was
late was sometimes terrific (for horseflesh, of course).
Often, more often than otherwise, the ' coachee '
indulged in a full gallop ; then if a horse stumbled
or anything went wrong, if the coach locked, &c.,
there was ' a case,' as an accident was termed.
With a careful driver, good cattle, and a well built
drag, this seldom happened ; but all drivers were
not careful. Sometimes a gentleman got hold of the
ribbons, or a strange horse went wrong, or the
coach was top-heavy, or a wheel gave way, and
then — well, then an accident took place, the list
A LONELY ROAD. 43
of casualties of which, if the mail was travcllitiL^
loaded, would not diso^race a modern railway smash.
We made the best of our good bit of road, as we
did not know what might be in store for us ahead ;
a road that begins well often ends badly, and vice
versa — that is to say, it often becomes hilly and
rough. So in the present case, as we almost feared,
our even way was too good to last, and not only did
it become hilly but the surface changed for the
worse, being uneven and very bad and jolty for fast
driving, or, indeed, slow for that matter. Rocks
actually peeped up through the macadam. The bad-
ness of the road may be accounted for by the fact
that there are not many travellers this way ; we, at
any rate, only met one the whole of our day's drive
of some twenty miles, and this in the centre of
populous England !
Away from raiKva}s thus — for we were as far
from the iron roads as it is about possible to be in
this )'ear of grace, when the whole land is gridironed
all over with them — it is astonishing how much
solitary and alone you can be. I have, in fact, on
some of our moors, downs, and wolds, experienced
a feeling of loneliness and desolation, as much or
more than I have in the primeval forests of Cali-
fornia or the wild prairies of the Far West. If any
tourist, therefore, wants to be severely let alone, he
need not leave England for that object, it can be per-
fectly well obtained at home. Amongst the moun-
tain-lands of Scotland, Wales, the Lake District,
or Yorkshire, even in the tourist-haunted portions,
it is quite an easy feat to get away into lonely up-
44 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
lands and secluded spots, where neither human
beings, their habitations, nor their works are to be
seen. Even within fifty miles of London you may
wander all day long about the South Downs without
meeting more than a stray shepherd or so ; and
further afield, take Bettws-y-Coed for instance, I
know a dozen walks or more from that crowded
tourist centre, of not over three or four miles in
extent, leading to spots where you can roam about
in a solitude with nothing of life to be seen save
perchance a passing bird or two, and where you will
only have the distant mountain peaks for company.
Though our road turned out a rough one, we
were more than compensated for it by the scenery
as, gradually improving as our way deteriorated, up
and down we went. It seemed to us a good deal
more up than down, but that was probably our
imagination. We passed several parks with bright
green pastures, beautifully wooded, some with fine
old timber, about and around which latter flocks of
rooks kept caw-caw-cawing in a pleasing yet half
mournful monotony. There are some sounds that
have a special charm, or perhaps I should more
correctly say a fascination for me. The solemn
caw-caw-caw of rooks is one, and the weird, plaintive-
cry of the seagull is another ; but, above all, what
impresses me most is the mournful wail, the
uncanny, mysterious sounds of a hurrying wind
through a pine forest.
We presently came to the picturesque little
village or hamlet of Chapel House, with its pretty
green, in which grows a remarkably fine old elm.
THE ROLLICII STONES, 45
Here we noticed a large cheerful looking inn, or
rather, what had once been one, for on our nearer
approach we discovered the extensive building had
been converted into a number of cottages. These,
on close inspection, had a strange look, possessing,
as each one did, a large handsome stone window,
— Fortunate cottagers, you seldom have such a
luxury ! Evidently in the olden times this had
been a prosperous and a noted wayside hostelrie,
probably a great posting house. Near this spot is
a Druidical circle (called the Rollich Stones), and
well worth a visit. It appears to be but little
known, except locall)' — at least, we had never heard
of it before, for this is not a tourist district ; there Is
not even a railway near, and guide-books of It are
still to be written, and may they unwritten long
remain to the advantatTe of the oreneral traveller.
There is a great pleasure in coming thus un-
expectedly and naturally, as it were, upon scenes
and relics of the past, and not to have them walled
in and be charged so much a head to see them just
like a peep-show. Resides, one appreciates natural
beauties, &c., all the better for not being posted up
beforehand all about them. There is a great
pleasure In the surprise, and a certain Innocent
delight, in a discovery of this kind : a Columbus-
like sort of feeling, be it in ever so mild a wa)\
The stones of which this circle consists, or rather
consisted, used to be sixt)' in number within the
recollection of the oldest inhabitant, but some have
faUcn down, and some, in the dark ages, were
removed for buiKUng purjioses, so that now there is
46 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
only about a third of the original number left. At
some distance from the circle — at about a hundred
yards at a rough guess, stands all alone a solitary
monolith. It appears that all these stones were
quarried near the spot, judging from their kind, and
in this respect they differ from those of Stonehenge,
which are of different sorts, and many of which
must have been brought from afar off, some even a
hundred miles or more.
Shortly after leaving Chapel House we had a
stiff climb up a long hill, the top of which was fir
crowned, and told out a dark indigo green uneven
mass against the light sky. On reaching the summit
we looked down upon a little village sleeping peace-
fully, very peacefully, at the foot of a long descent.
' Distance lends enchantment to the view ; ' and it
did in the present case, not that the village was
actually an ugly place, but from our first far-off
view of it, it appeared a delightfully picturesque
hamlet ; the picturesqueness, however, almost entirely
if not quite vanished on arriving at it.
Here we found a small hotel— at least the pro-
prietor called it so ; it appeared to us a kind of a
cross between a second-rate country inn and a public-
house, a litde too poor for the first and yet superior
to the latter. We pulled up in the main street
of the village and held a council of war to decide
whether we should stop here and make the best of
it, or chance coming across better quarters farther
on, or whether we should do neither, but camp
out ; we were quite prepared to do the latter if ne-
cessary, as we carried supplies with us both for our
CAMPING OUT. 47
horses and ourselves, in case of such an emergency.
In the boot was a feed of oats and beans mixed
just sufficient for each horse, and for ourselves we
had the handiest of spirit lamps, and either coffee
or tea was easily made; but, enjoyable though our
camps out on the roadside were, we never cared
to fall back on our reserves unless compelled to do
so, and we also took the precaution to renew from
time to time our stores (when requisite) at the
various towns we passed through. In crossing over
wild mountain districts and traversing lonely moor-
lands, where inns of any kind are few and far
between, to be able to draw up by the way, and
indulge in an al fresco meal, is a pleasurable ne-
cessity. The council of war did not last long ;
we decided to stay where we were ; the country
around had a bare look in the direction we were
journeying towards, and we very reasonably argued
we miofht eo farther and fare worse, or not fare at
all. So the horses were unharnessed (the whole
of the inhabitants of the place, young and old,
looking on at the wonderful performance) and led
to the cow-shed, which did the double duty of a
stable for the ' hotel ' by day and a cattle stall by
night. It was not over-clean, by the way, but, how-
ever, some very fair corn was procured, and in spite
of all drawbacks the horses cleared their mangers.
Vox ourselves, we were ushered into a very small
sitting-room with an exceedingly low roof, in which
there v/as about space for a moderate-sized table
and four chairs. Here we deemed it safest to order
some tea and egq;s ; in fact. I doubt if we could have
48 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
had anything' else, even had we so desh'ed. At any
rate, in the most out-of-the-way places, such a simple
repast can always be had fairly good. Passable tea,
wholesome bread and butter, and freshly laid eggs,
do not form such a despicable meal after all. Our
simple repast over, we did not care to remain in the
tiny room, especially as the one window it contained
was only designed to admit light and not air, the
supply of which latter we had about exhausted, so
we took a stroll round the village. We wondered
much if since the last coach passed through here
any stranger had passed this way, or else why were
we in this particular village the cause of so much
curiosity. There was nothing out of the way in our
appearances, and we did not see why because we
arrived in a phaeton we should on that account be
watched wherever w^e went as though we were a
couple of negro minstrels or a Punch- and-Judy
show ; but so it was, and I can only hope the natives
were duly edified. We noticed two large blocks of
buildings in the place which had evidently in the
days of yore been prosperous hotels ; now portions
of them are converted into cottages, the other por-
tions were going to decay. One of the buildings
had a handsome old carved stone doorway, and the
windows in it were very fine. We judged from the
size of the stables, which were extensive as well as
ruinous, that seventy or more horses must have been
kept at each of these fine hostelries. What a contrast
from the bustle and life of those past days to the
present ones of desolation and decay !
49
CHAPTER IV.
Scotch Firs — The old-fashioned Flail in use — A Picturesciue Village
— Market Crosses — A Homelike Country — An Old Farmhouse —
A Sleepy Town — A Hunt for Quarters — Accommodated at Last—
A Forsaken Hotel— A Stupid Ostler— Deserted Stables— A Chat
with our Landlord — A Bad Outlook— A History of Chapel House
— Dr. Johnson's Opinion of Taverns^Old English Hostels — Our
Bedroom — A Tour of Discovery— Antique Rooms — The Writing
on the Glass.
After leaving- the village our road turned out
hilly, not that the hills were severe, but there
were so many of them that a little level ground
would have been an agreeable change. At the crest
of one of the rises we came upon a solitary and
romantic clump of Scotch firs (what an individuality
and character these trees possess ! A few of them
form quite a telling feature in a landscape). One
of these was carefully enclosed with railings ; the
why and wherefore of this we could not make out,
as there appeared to be nothing peculiar or remark-
able about that especial tree. Probabl)' some history
was attached to it, some old-world legend or tradi-
tion, or it would hardly be thus so carefully protected.
As the clump was situated on a lovely spot with a
wild country round about, we conjured to ourselves
pictures of highwaj-men of the olden da)-s, and
thought that possibly they might have had some
connection with this place.
E
50 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
Gradually now the land became more fertile and
cultivated, and assumed a cheerful, inhabited look,
which was very pleasing to the eye ; by degrees,
cosy-looking farmhouses and irregular old gabled
barns made their appearance, surrounded by trees as
ancient as themselves. Within one of these barns
we actually both saw and heard the old-fashioned
flail for threshing in use. We had imagined that
machinery had quite done away with this primitive
instrument, but it appears such is not the case — in
these parts, at any rate.
From the barn in question we had a long ascent
of over two miles, and a like descent ; at the end of
which we came upon as picturesque a little village,
both in itself and its surroundings, as is anywhere to
be found in England, or out of it for that matter ;
and here we noticed a delightful old inn, covered all
over with ivy and various creepers, and looking most
inviting. We only regretted on seeing it we had not
taken our chance of the road instead of baiting at
Enstone. It was vexing certainl}^ as it does not
always fall to the lot of a wearied traveller to find
such a resting-place. It is, however, very easy to
be wise when you know everything ; and so we rea-
soned to ourselves that, as it was impossible for us to
have been aware of the existence of this hostelrie,
under the circumstances we acted wisely in accepting
a certainty for an uncertainty. The village that so
pleased us we found was called Long Compton. In
its one street there are the steps remaining that once
evidently supported a market-cross in those pre-
Reformation times when most rural towns and many
OLD MARKET CROSSES. 51
hamlets had one or more of these symbols of Chris-
tianity erected. Few, however, perfect ones now
remain ; they were, long ago, nearly all thrown down
and ruthlessly destroyed by the stern Puritans, to
whom anything in the form of a cross was as a red
rae to a mad bull. Thou(Mi the crosses were re-
moved, the steps, as in this case, were generally
left intact. They are now, as a rule, a good deal
worn and weathered by the exposure to the storms
of man)' years ; and very often they form a play-
Sfround for the villacre children and others, whose
exploits upon them do not tend to their preservation.
Now and again, we have found in the course of our
wanderings, the steps have been repaired and a fresh
cross in the olden style has been re-erected. The
picturesque effect of these structures is often very
great, and they generally form a pleasing feature in
the ' townscape,' if I may be allowed to coin a special
word to tersely express my meaning.
It appears from an old work which I discovered
amongst a quantity of ancient books at one of our
hotels one evening, and amused myself by reading,
that at the time when the monasteries were in
their glory in the land almost every market town
in England, besides numerous villages, possessed a
cross, some of which were ' exceedingly rich and
elaborate in their architectural details.' Alas ! that
so many works of art should thus have been de-
stroyed in a fit of so-called religious zeal.
A propos of the destructive instincts of the English
workman, I was considerably amused at an archi-
tect's remark to me one day. It happened that I
E 2
S2 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
was having a mosaic pavement laid down in my hall,
upon which some Italians were engaged. On noticing
that foreigners were employed, he said, * Englishmen
would be of no good for this job, they have not suffi-
cient patience ; but if you wished for it to be torn up,
you could not employ better men.'
After leaving Long Compton we had again a
deal of collar work, and at the top of the first hill
we rested our horses for a few minutes, and took the
opportunity of turning our gaze backvvards in the
direction we had come from ; it is as well to reverse
your view from time to time as you are driving, as
it affords you often a completely fresh and unex-
pected prospect. Turning round, we noticed Long
Compton almost enveloped in the foliage of apple and
other trees ; a sweet-looking, happy, peaceful ham-
let, speaking of repose. How quietly the blue smoke
curled up from the humble cottages ; how solemnly
appeared the old grey church, just showing amongst
a mass of sombre greenery, the dark shade of yew
trees being plainly observable ! Overhead a clear
blue sky ; around, motionless woodlands ; it was a
scene of perfect peace, adown which the sun shone
in a mellow golden sheen. Surely no dull care or
worry could penetrate into this secluded calm spot,
enclosed by hills from the noise and strife of the
outer world !
As we proceeded on our way the country became
each mile, if possible, more beautiful. Everything
around us was suggestive of human occupancy : the
soil was well tilled, the trees were carefully shrouded,
cattle stood lazily looking at us over the gates, sheep
A MILI, l-.V THE WAV.
COUNTRY ODOURS. 53
were in their folds busily feeding", men and women
were in the fields tossing the hay ; above us the lark
was singing his loudest, his most entrancing song, and
all about was joyous life ; and from afar we heard
the rattle, rattle, of a mowing machine — a sound be-
coming common now in the country ; and on the soft
summer's air came wafted to us various sweet odours
of the honeysuckle, the sweetbriar, the lime, and
countless other wild and unseen flowers and shrubs ;
but above all the most frequent and the most de-
lightful was the unequalled fragrance of the new-
mown hay. It was a scene thoroughly, intensely
English, and to us at least exceedingly attractive —
a scene I have said ; I should more correctly state
a succession of scenes, and each one in its way a
perfect picture of mellow home like beauty — beauty
of a sort no other country can show.
At one spot we actually pulled up our horses
and rested several minutes, to see wdiat ? simply
an old farm-house and accompanying out- buildings
surrounded by stately elms. Not much, )Ou may
say, and not worth the trouble of stopping for.
But that is a matter of opinion. That special
homestead had a special attraction for us ; it was a
picture in stone, a bit of poetry of ordinary every-
day life. Possibly the inhabitants of the place
thought not much of it, and wondered at our long
halt. But let me give the scene, though I should
require a painter's brush as well as a pen to do it
properly. Before us was a Xow, rambling two-sto-
ried building showing the weather tinting of years,
with outhouses in harmony, their roofs all lichen and
54 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
moss covered, and of such rich colouring that the
brightest pigments of my paint-box failed to repre-
sent them as thej'^were. Quaint stacks of chimneys,
curiously shaped old leaded windows, and many
gabled ends and corners, showed here and there
from out of the wealth of foliao-e the house was
surrounded with, and above and over all there was
an indescribable but a very real suggestion of home
comfort. This rural home was half revealed and
half hidden from our envious eyes by overshadow-
ing elms. True, the day and hour were perfect ; the
sun, now low down, sent delicious slanting rays across
the old homestead, causing portions of it to stand
out in high and warm relief, and others to be half
lost in uncertain mysterious shade ; but that was
not all — the hour simply helped the effect, it did not
make it. There is no doubt that in the early morn-
inof and the late noon the low lig^ht much enhances
the effect of even the finest scenery : those are
therefore the hours in which the landscape artist
should be most busy.
So long and often had we loitered on our way,
that it was getting late when we arrived at the end
of our day's stage, and the sun was setting in the
west amidst a glory of crimson and gold, giving us
promise of a fine day for the morrow. Our stopping
place for the night was a sleepy old town, and looked
as though it had been asleep for years, and would
sleep on for all time. It was possibly the largest and
most important town in England without a railway ;
not that it was either a large or an important place,
but somehow railway directors and engineers toge-
A SLEEPY OLD TOWN. 55
ther have, to the discomfiture of shareholders and
reduction of their dividends, found out almost every
small town or insignificant village to which by any
possible excuse they could make a railway — and
have made one. This one, however, seems to have
been strangely missed by them.
Slumbering though this town appeared to us, it
was not always thus ; situated on the old turnpike
road to the North (a busy road), much traffic must in
old times have passed through it ; and from what we
could make out from their present outside condition,
it must have boasted in those days of two large and
important hotels, besides possibly other minor ones.
Then day and night the streets of the place must
have been alive with travellers coming and going,
and coaches arriving and departing. Now our
phaeton rattled along In solitary glor}^ but not
silently, for somehow, as in an empty rcom or
house, so in a half-forsaken town, sounds seem to
re-echo in a strange way ; and the clatter, clatter, of
our horses' feet and the crunching of our wheels on
the ground seemed to us to resound in a mysterious
unnatural manner from the surroundino- buildino-s ;
so much so, indeed, that we found ourselves involun-
tarily slackening our pace. We drove quietly round
the town, and prospected the two ancient hotels,
neither of which looked very promising or inviting ;
both showed evident signs of past prosperity, but
had evidently sadly fallen from their original high
estate. We drew up at the one we considered the
most flourishing ; we hardly knew which to choose,
as the house of one and the stables of the other
56 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
seemed tlie best ; eventually we were selfish and
selected the best house. Alas for selfishness! On
observing us the landlord came out, one quite in
keeping- with the hotel. We at once asked for rooms ;
he appeared quite nonplussed at our modest request,
and dived indoors to ask the ' missus.' This did not
look promising ; however, we waited patiently out-
side, during which time we noticed an animated dis-
cussion going on inside. Presently the landlord re-
appeared, and said ' they were very sorry, but they
could not possibly accommodate us, as they had no
spare room ' — we presumed he meant a furnished
one, for from the size of the old building we ima-
gined vacant rooms were plentiful — and moreover,
he stated in a half apologizing manner as his reason
for not being able to receive us, ' Since they had had
the hotel, no traveller had ever asked to stay the
night there.' A lively sort of place this, we muttered
to ourselves — not exactly the spot we should choose
to start a hotel in were we to take to innkeeping.
There was nothing for it but to drive to the other
hostelrie and try our fortune there, and if that failed
us we supposed we should have to make the best of
it, by giving our horses what rest we could and
taking another night stage. But as the country did
not appear very inhabited round about, and as our
horses had had already a long and a heavy day's
work, we did not much relish the idea of so doing,
if by any possibility we could procure quarters of
any kind in the town. We therefore drove up to
the other hotel, which, truth to say, looked just a
little too dilapidated to please us ; however, evidently
A DESERTED INN. 57
it was that one or none, so we ventured to ring- the
bell. We could hear it cchoini^- in a melancholy
manner in the large gloomy and half-deserted pile.
In due course the landlord came forth (landladies
seemed to be non-existent in this part of the world).
' Could we have a room for the nierht and could our
horses be accommodated ? ' we inquired. * Oh, cer-
tainly.' We were almost surprised at the reply —
we had hardly expected a favourable one after our
former experience. The place indeed had a deserted
wobegone look, which was not a little depressing,
especially at that late hour. We were, however,
ushered into a small but tolerably furnished sitting-
room.
We next hinted we should like to see our bed-
room, as we were by no means so far predisposed
with the place from what we had already seen as to
care to make arrangements to spend the night there
without getting some idea as to what the room
would be like. We were shown up what had once
been a fine and ample staircase, and indeed it was
so still, but looked bare now, being all guiltless of
carpet, the landlord still doing the host ; in fact, we
never saw anyone in the house besides himself and
a maid-of-all-work ; we presumed — we doubted if the
establishment consisted of more than these two.
We inspected our room, and at last agreed that it
would do, so elected to stay there the night. Some
of the ceiling in the room was down, showing the
rafters, and the paper was off in places, and had
been replaced with that of another pattern. The
furniture was of antique date, but, to be just, though
58 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
poverty was everywhere apparent, everything was
clean. There was a piece of carpet laid on the
bare boards, but the boards themselves were well
scrubbed and sweet, so were the passages. Evi-
dently the best had been done with the place as far
as the landlord's means allowed, and we quite pitied
his lot, my wife expending quite a quantity of sym-
pathy upon him.
Orderine tea, we noticed the one servant rush
out to procure the chops, eggs, and milk required
for the repast, and saw her duly return laden with
the same. The girl certainly made the best of the
place, and seemed attached to her master, which,
under the circumstances, spoke well for her and for
him. We now deemed it advisable to inspect the
stables. These were a depressing sight ; nearly all
were vacant and going to decay — the home of
gigantic cobwebs, and endless rubbish, and stray
half-starved mice, all of which, mice excepted, had
doubtless been accumulating since the last coach
took its last stage here. However, two stalls in
the further end of the long row appeared in better
repair, and gave signs of being occasionally used.
They were, besides, weatherproof and dry, and in
these our horses were quartered. The oats were
fair, and there was a sufficiency of straw, so we felt
at rest and satisfied in this respect. Our man, too,
actually had an osder to help him — not that he was
of much or any use, but he pretended to be ; he was
a dull, clumsy boy, presumably employed to do
odd jobs about the inn yard, and knew about as
much how to Qrroom horses as a monk of love-
A STUPID OSTLER. 59
making, or a modern speculative builder of good,
honest work. As he could be of no service to assist
in frroomintr, and was not to be trusted to wash the
carriage alone, our man asked him just to wipe over
the harness for him, thinking he was competent,
at any rate, to do that. But the boy, anxious to do
something more, and to show he knew what he was
about, essayed to clean the brass furniture of the
same {i.e. the buckles, crests, rings, hames, &c.), to do
which the bright youth employed a blacking-brush
and a liberal supply of blacking. This was not
discovered in the dark, and it was only noticed just
before our early start next day, so we had to resume
our journey half in mourning, and our man had an
enjoyable extra hour's work or so that evening
removing the black paste which had penetrated
everywhere, during which time he doubtless mut-
tered the reverse of blessings upon tlie head of the
too assiduous ostler.
On returning to our little sitting-room things
looked considerably brighter. A capital tea was
spread, lighted candles were on the table, and a
cheery fire was blazing away right merrily in the
high antique grate, for the room was not too warm,
even on that fine summer eveninir. The walls of
the house were thick, and the place had, when we
first entered, a chilly look, but the ruddy firelight
made us feel quite comfortable and at home. What
a deal a fire will do ! No wonder an Englishman
loves his own fireside. And after all we spent a
very pleasant and cosy evening in that little room.
Tea finished, I went out in search of our worthy
6o A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
landlord, to see if I could manage to extract from
him any history or tradition of the place or the
surroundings. I found that important individual
in the bar, which was dimly lighted by a solitary
paraffin lamp. He had two customers chatting
with him, each indulging in a glass of ale. This
looked like business of some sort, I thought, albeit
not of a very profitable nature. Presently the two
individuals decamped, and I had the landlord all
to myself, not only for the time being, but for the
whole evening. I opened the ball, and then held
my tongue, except now and again to keep mJne host
from wandering too much, for I discovered he was
of a chatty and a communicative nature, and I had
only to lead him along to hear all I required, or,
at least, all on those topics he had to tell me. His
remarks did not begin very promisingly ; he stated
the two men just departed (present company, of
course, excepted, and we were very exceptional) were
the only customers he had had that day. He had
given up farming as an unprofitable occupation, and
had been induced to come forth as a full-fledged
hotel-keeper, without any training, experience, or
special aptitude in that line. He had been tempted
to take this hotel, which had been empty for some
time, because the rent was very low, as" well it might
be ; indeed, we thought it would be clear at nothing,
with the whole of the long rambling house to keep
in repair. This we considered a great mistake on
his part. He complained now that hotel-keeping
was even more unprofitable than farming, and we
agreed with him— at least, that his hotel-keeping
DR. JOHNSON ON INNS. 6i
was. If not a very practical or a good man of busi-
ness, we found our host on other subjects well
informed — indeed, unexpectedly so, at least upon
all local matters and places, for he appeared not
to care much for the concerns of the world beyond
his own county and its immediate surroundings.
How such a person could vegetate in such a place
was to us a marvel ; but then the world is full of
strange facts, and if one only began to wonder at
the various actions of the people in it— why, there
would be no end to the wondering.
One thing of more than local interest we learnt
in the course of our lonq- conversation that nicdit,
and it is worth recording here. It appears that the
old inn at Chapel House, which, kind reader, you
will remember we remarked upon as we passed as
being a fine old stone structure, evidently in times
past of some importance, received as a guest on one
occasion no less a personage than Dr. Johnson, and
it was in and of that hotel in particular he made his
famous remarks, or rather discourse, anent taverns,
which said remarks have now become historical, but
will bear repeating. This, then, is what that old
English worthy said : ' There is no private house in
which people can enjoy themselves as well as at a
capital tavern like this ' (he was addressing Boswell,
who was staying with him there). ' Let there be
ever so great a plenty of good things, ever so much
grandeur, ever so much elegance, ever so much
desire that every guest should be easy, in the nature
of things it cannot be ; there must always be some
degree of care and anxiety. The master of the
62 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
house is anxious to entertain his friends ; these in
their turn are anxious to be agreeable to him, and
no one but a very impudent dog can as freely
command what is in another man's house as if it
were his own. Whereas, at a tavern there is a
general freedom from anxiety. You are sure you
are welcome ; and the more noise you make, the
more trouble you give, the more good things you
call for, the welcomer you are. No servants will
attend you with the alacrity which waiters do, who
are incited by the prospect of an immediate reward
in proportion as they please. No, sir, there is
nothing which has yet been contrived by man by
which so much happiness is produced as by a good
tavern or inn.' This hostelrie seems to have been
famous on the road for its good cheer, hospitality,
wines, &c., to which, perhaps, I may add jovial
company, and doubtless in its day here was enter-
tained many a noble guest and important personage.
In Dr. Johnson's time and afterwards until the iron
horse took the place of the one of flesh and blood,
English hotels were renowned throughout the world,
or all over the Continent at any rale, and acknow-
ledged by everyone to surpass all others. Never
before or since has such luxurious and comfortable
inn accommodation fallen to the lot of the traveller.
Me was always received with a hearty welcome by
mine host himself, his very wants appeared to be
anticipated, and the landlady, generally a motherly,
comely personage, thought it not beneath her dignity
to personally see after his comforts. ' To take mine
ease at mine inn ' had a real meaning in those days.
OLD COACHING IIOSTELRIES. 63
The food was good, not to say excellent, and, more-
over, it was well cooked, and not seldom served on
costly plate ; the linen was of the finest, and the port
and claret were seldom anywhere to be equalled, and
certainly nowhere excelled. On one occasion it is
related of this place, that on tasting a fresh pipe of
wine a certain well-known nobleman, one connected
with the Court, and who used to select the wine for
the royal table, remarked ' that it was as good as
any his Majesty had, if not better.' Macaulay says
of these old coaching hostelries (the large and noted
ones it is to be presumed) that ' the beds were, as
often as not, hung with silk, the cooking and viands
were perfection, and rare clarets and other wines
could be had for the ordering.' And the portly
figure of the jovial, well-to-do landlord, with his
honest open face, perhaps just a little wanting in
fineness, his top-boots and frilled shirt — Punch's
very ideal of John Bull — harmonised well with his
surroundings, and was suggestive of the ample fare
that might be expected within. Of the same kind,
probably, was our hostel in bygone times ; but now
how changed ! On our corridor alone there were
twenty-four rooms empty — unfurnished and bare, of
course ; and yet night after night these used to be
filled, and many a rollicking, roystering company
doubtless met together and had good times within
the four walls of the hotel.
Now as we returned to our rest our footsteps
resounded in a melancholy manner along the dark
deserted passages, and our shadows flitted about
in the dim uncertain candle-light, suggesting to us
64 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
ghosts of former revellers, and giving us an eerie
feeling. No wonder die good old-fashioned ghost
has become somewhat rare of late. What proper-
minded spirit could put up with the garish light of
gas, to say nothing of electricity ? Was the hotel
haunted ? We had visited houses with such a re-
putation that, judging from appearances, deserved
such a fate far less. But to us, at any rate, that
night the house was haunted by memories of old
times. In spite of all, however, we slept more or
less, and in our slumbers the past rose up before us ;
we had a Rip van Winkle sort of dream — back-
wards, however, instead of forwards — and when we
awoke in the morning we could hardly realise at the
first start we were really existing in this nineteenth
century. We wondered, if the famous lexicographer
could come back to life again and could revisit his
old haunts at Chapel House, &c., or could even see
our inn as now, living on with all its life and
grandeur gone, what he would say and think.
What a pity the impossible cannot happen at times !
Or take him to one of our gigantic modern limited
liability creations, and ask his opinion of that ; I
trow it would not be a very enthusiastic one !
Before breakfast we were tempted to wander
along the deserted corridors, and we looked in at
some of the old rooms. How desolate they
appeared! It was a pitiable sight; the ceilings
giving way, the paper on the walls peeling off, the
dust of ages on the window-panes, the woodwork
given over to dry rot, where once all was bright
and gay and kept in the pink of order. We noticed
OLD INSCRIPTIONS. 65
some of the window panes were much scratched
over with various names, which, from the remarks
and legends beneath, showed some were traveling
to join their regiments, others journeying to and
from college. The dates were of a century and
more ago. Those simple inscriptions, doubtless
made in a thoughtless merry mood by the wild
youngsters of a past generation, long since gone the
way of all flesh, set us thinking a good deal and
moralizing as well. All those long years these
fragile pieces of glass have kept a faithful and plain
record of the various persons whose names and par-
ticulars are traced thereon, when possibly other
memorials of them, in pre-durable stone, may have
perished or been obliterated. In a deserted room
of a half-forsaken hotel, we chance travellers a
hundred years later read the inscriptions, and
formed from them an idea of our own — probably
quite an erroneous one — of the manner of men who
wrote them. All we could say was, ' Peace to their
ashes ! ' We had no diamond with us or we might
have been tempted for once, and upon this occasion
only, to have written our names and dates below
those already existing, describing our method and
purpose of travelling, to be read and pondered over
by future generations — who knows ?
66 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
CHAPTER V.
A Gloomy Day— Lights and Shadows— A Wayside Monument—
Across Country— A Doubtful Lane— In a Fix- A Camp Out— Wild
Flowers — Home and Foreign Scenery — A Capital Road— A Rain-
bow—Coventry—A Quaint Old City— An Old Steeple— The Res-
torations of Ancient Buildings — A Punning Epitaph — A Fine Hall
— Origin of the term 'To send to Coventry.'
The weather so far had been propitious for us ;
however, the morning we left Shipston a change
appeared not only probable but imminent. Sus-
picious-looking clouds were hovering about, a soft
south-west wind was blowing, which, however plea-
sant, was suggestive of rain ; moreover, the baro-
meter had fallen considerably in the night — at least
our aneroid had, for we always carry that useful
little instrument about with us on our driving tours.
Such a thing as a weather glass our half-furnished
hotel naturally did not boast of.
All day long we watched with unabated interest
the play of light and shade over the landscape, and
now and again a glint of golden sunshine would rake
the distant woodlands and far-off hills, which stretched
away to the right and left of us until lost in the dreamy,
uncertain blue of the horizon ; and anon, tlic clouds
would break apart overhead, letting down a gleam
of warm sunlight on to a portion of the scene before
us, and this would slowly travel along, affording
WANDERING LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 67
many beautiful and unexpected effects, revealing to
us bits of hidden loveliness, all unseen or unnoticed
before. Yonder it fell upon an old church tower;
again, it lightened up a clump of sombre woods, and
revealed bej-ond an old timbered cottage ; then it
rested upon the old grey walls of some ancient
manor-house whose gabled ends and chimneys just
showed amidst a mass of thick foliage ; next, as it
travelled along, we caught the yellow gleam of corn-
fields ; and before we had done wondering what
else would be shown to us, the gleam suddenly died
away. But, as it died, another was born, and this
in its turn disclosed to us what we did not observe
previously, an old bridge, before and beyond which
a silvery sheen and a sparkle told of a river or
stream running along the valley ; and anon it alighted
upon an old ruined mill, and then it gilded a forest
of pines that fringed the spur of the nearest hill, at
the foot of which lay nestled a small village or town,
and so on — endless and unexpected variations of the
landscape were brought momentarily into brighter
prominence.
After four miles of pleasant road, the only thing
of particular interest on the way being the pic-
turesque village of Tredington, possessing a grand
and tall church-tower majestic enough for any city,
we came at the junction of tw^o roads upon what
appeared to us to be a monument in the Gothic
style, and simply though chastely decorated. This
monument both attracted our attention and raised
our curiosity as to its purpose. We therefore dis-
mounted in order to inspect it more closely, and dis-
F 2
68 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
covered the following inscription upon it on one
side : —
Six miles
To Shakspere's town, whose name
Is known throughout the earth ;
To Shipston four, whose lesser fame
Boasts no such poet's birth ;
and on the other — to be discovered only by search —
ran this legend, which left much to our imagination
as to the cause of this wayside monument being
erected, thus : —
After darkness, light.
From light hope flows,
And peace in death
In Christ a sure repose.
Spes : 1871.
The why and ^wherefore of such a structure being
raised here puzzled us not a little. It was placed in
such an out-of-the-way spot ; few people appeared
to travel on the road excepting farmers going to or
returning" from market, and possibly an occasional
carrier, so that it would be seen by few. It was,
therefore, wasting its beauty on the desert air.
Strangely enough, no one we met could tell us any-
thing about this lonely and singular erection, more
than we knew ourselves, and it certainly failed to
explain itself.
By-and-by we called a halt and took a glance at
our maps and had our road-books out, over which
we had a lengthened consultation, the result of which
was that we decided to change our course and to
make for Coventry instead of continuing straight on
as we had originally intended ; for we found that our
road would eventually land us in Birmingham and
LOST. 69
the ' Black Country,' to visit which we had no desire.
Indeed, wc were particularly anxious above all things
to avoid that blighted portion of England ; having
once driven through it, we never wish to repeat that
dreadful experience. If there is a scene of desola-
tion upon earth, a spot where all that is beautiful has
been destroyed by man and given over altogether
without reserve of any kind to Mammon, that spot
is the ' Black Country.' Rightly has it been named.
Driving through it at night, however, especially if
the clouds lay low and reflect the many glowing,
seething furnaces, it has a weird and startling, un-
earthly effect, grand and almost sublime, though
certainly not beautiful, and more suggestive of the
entrance to the infernal regions than anything be-
longing to this Avorld. What a pity Dante could not
have observed it ! And yet, one time, that part of
England, judging by some of its surroundings, must
have been amongst the most beautiful portions of
the country.
We had now left the main road, and had to find
our way across country lanes, and as these exist for
local convenience and have no consideration for the
through traveller, we had some difficulty in thread-
ing our way amongst the maze of perplexing twistings
and turnings. At one place we regularly lost our-
selves and nearly came to grief We had followed
up a road, a lonely one, rather doubtful all the time
if we were doing right, but there were no cottages
near nor anyone about to get information from. Gra-
dually the road got worse and eventually became a
mere track ; and then we had gates to open, which
70 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
did not promise well, and we expected at every turn
to be broLiL^ht up standing, judging most probably
our way would end in a farmhouse or a field ; but
every now and again, just as we were in despair, a
sudden and unexpected turn would take place, and
on it went. There was one thino- : the surface could
not get worse unless it ceased to be a road altogether,
which was a sort of a negative comfort. Presently, a
fresh misfortune happened to us ; the twistings and
turnings began to lean the wrong way, and at last
we actually found ourselves travelling helplessly
in the reverse direction to that in which we should
have been going. This was a pleasant predicament
to be in, and there was absolutely no one about, not
even a human habitation to be seen ; the only signs
of life were a few sheep, who stared at us in a sur-
prised, vacant manner, and these were of no use to
us, and our maps were utterly worthless here, for
they did not even show the track at all. It was
certainly very provoking, as we had a long stage to
make that day, and could not afford to waste both
time and our horses' strength wandering aimlessly
aljout ; and I am afraid we lost our tempers and
blamed each other for ever having ventured upon
that road — each of us would have it that the other
suggested it ; the amusing part of the performance
being that, when we first struck it and all appeared
to be going well and prosperous, we both claimed
the credit of having first decided to try the lane.
We certainly were in a fix, for the road was heavy
work for the horses, and after having proceeded on
it so far we did not like to turn back, nor did we feel
IVH RECOVER OUR ROAD. 71
inclined to prucccd further lorward without knowing-
where it would lead us to in the end. So we did
what a L^ood niany other [jeo; le would have doubt-
less done had they been in our place — we decided to
camp out, and rest ourselves and our horses, and see
if anything- or anyone would turn up. We duly
rested ourselves, but nothing happened, and we were
just as wise as before. The horn was got out and
a long and loud blast sounded upon it with many
and prolonged flourishes, to see if that would bring
anyone forth by arousing their curiosity ; we had
found by former experience this riisc to succeed, but
it failed on the present occasion — we might as well
have blown it to the sea. Something had now to be
done ; we could not remain where we were all day,
and it was decided I should tramp ahead and explore
the road for a mile or so, and report thereon. I had
not proceeded far when I found the doubtful track
ended, leading into a very fair lane, which, moreover,
tended in the right direction ; so we were soon again
on a good road, speeding along at a merry pace,
which we rejoiced in after our enforced crawl along
that dreadful track.
There was now a capital road, wliich we managed
to keep for the rest of the day ; the latter portion
was a little up and down, but nothing to complain
of, and the scenery was all the most fastidious could
desire. In fact, the last few miles we drove throuoh
an avenue of trees ; these at first were connected
with hedges, but presently the latter vanished, and
on either side of us were open commons and heaths,
our road still being lined with trees. Upon the open
72 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
country the sunshine g'Hnt^.d down, for the clouds
had now all cleared away, and a varied landscape of
great beauty was revealed all bathed in a rich glory
of mellow light ; beyond the gorse and bracken-
covered commons we caught peeps of waving wood-
lands, and, further away again, of blue and purple
hills ; and here and there a faint grey of upward-
curling smoke told where a cottage or hamlet lay
concealed. Ourselves being in the cool shade of
overhanging foliage the while, made the scene doubly
effective. Now and then a startled rabbit or a timid
hare would dart across our path, but that was all the
life we saw.
Presently the three tall spires of the ancient city
of Coventry came into sight, telling out a pale
orange in the rays of the setting sun against a dark
background of finely-shaped clouds, for the stormy
elements had dispersed that way, and all at once
a glorious sight opened up before us — a rainbow
spanned the sky, and framed the picture of the town.
It was a picture that would have rejoiced the heart
of Turner could he have witnessed it as we did, the
rainbow blending earth and sky together, and sur-
rounding as with a halo of glory the gilded spires of
the distant city.
We had more than once before visited Coventry
in our many wanderings about England, but we
generally found a second visit to such places almost
as interesting as the first ; there was nearly always
something to be seen which we had previously
missed ; besides, old places are like old faces and
old friends — we are always glad to sec them again.
OLD TOWNS. 73
In the morning, before starting, we took a stroll
round the quaint old city, whose narrow winding
streets, ancient houses and buildings, give it such
a curious old-world look, in pleasing contrast to so
many other towns, which appear only too delighted
to get rid of all flavour of antiquity, and become con-
sequently monotonously uninteresting. A city that
speaks to you of the past, of half-forgotten histories
and traditions of bygone times, is more worth than
fifty modern ones, with all their regular, meaningless,
so-called handsome buildings, of unlimited plate-glass
and obtrusive showiness. Fortunately, in England
there are but few towns, however modernized, but
possess some relic or relics of the past, that afford
a fund of interest and inquiry to the sojourner
therein.
The three churches of Coventry are all notable
and of great interest. The steeple of the chief of
these is so much weathered and decayed, that we
could make out none of the details of the original
carving. The figfures of saints and others that
adorn it, strangely enough, are mosdy perfect,
evidently being of more recent work, or carved
in a more durable stone. These form a startling
contrast to the crumbling spire, which (when we
were there, at any rate) sadly wanted repairing.
The restorer is a necessary evil, much as we could
wish we could do without him ; a building must
be maintained, and when the time comes — as come
it must — the only thing left is to be careful to
employ the right man, a man of the type of the
late and much-reoretted Sir G. Scott, one ol the few
74 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
of whom it can be truly said he never spoilt any-
thing he restored.
Too many architects, unfortunately, seem far
more anxious to show what they please to consider
their own ability and originality (save the mark !),
than to restore, to the best of their knowledge and
opportunity, the edifice entrusted to their care to
its former condition. A restorer, of all men, should
be the most scrupulously conservative ; he should,
by every means in his power, endeavour to trace
back and follow out the spirit and intentions of the
first builders, even to the smallest detail of carving.
He is not employed to design a building, but to
repair one — in the one case, originality is a very
possible merit ; in the other, much the reverse.
An old building, hoary with age, with its grey,
time-worn walls, mellowed and many-tinted by
exposure to all weathers for centuries, having still
in places here and there the very marks of the ori-
ginal mason's chisels, possesses a wonderful charm
— a hold upon the imagination to be felt but not
readily described. It is a precious heirloom, a
history writ in stone, and carries one back to the
dim, far-ofT, uncertain past. Such a priceless treasure
deserves all care.
I have a friend who possesses a fine old Eliza-
bethan house, and he is the very man to own such
a place ; he glories in keeping it up in its original
state and style, even to the tapestry on the walls,
and peacocks in the old-fashioned gardens. And
how do you imagine he sets to work to restore the
place when requisite ? Well, when any piece or
CURIOUS EPITAPH. 75
portion of the stonework has become decayed or
shows si^nis of crumbhng', before it has gone too
far he has it exactly copied, Hne for Hne, cut for cut,
as far as it is possible to do so ; and then, when
perfectly satisfied with the result, the old worn-out
carving is carefully removed, and the freshly-chiselled
stone takes its place, and the result is all that can
be desired.
But enough of restorers and their works. Whilst
these ideas had been running in my head, we had
been wandering over Trinity Church, admiring its
fine old carved-stone pulpit, its seventeenth-century
communion table of black oak, its antique brass
lectern, and other relics of the past. In this church
is a monument erected to the memory of that almost,
if not quite, forgotten worthy, Philemon Holland,
the translator of Camden's ' Britannia,' and other
works, and in many respects a noticeable man in his
day. The epitaph upon this, and which he wrote
himself shortly before his death, is of interest for its
clever play on words, and which, unlike the inscrip-
tion on Rosamond's tomb, mentioned in a former
chapter, can be fairly translated into English without
'altogether losing its punning qualities. These, then,
are the concluding lines of the epitaph : —
' Si quadras ratio quaenam sit nominis, ha^c est :
Totus-terra fui, terraque totus eio.'
And which last line, I take it, can be done into
English in this wnse : ' I was whole-land (Holland),
and land- wholly (earth to be presumed) shall I be.'
Strolling back to our hotel, we glanced inside
St. Mary's Hall, a grand building, in which is some
76 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
very fine tapestry hung on the walls. It struck us
as somewhat strange to see a monument (erected to
the memory of some notable whom I have forgotten
now) in this public place.
The city is now a great centre for the manufac-
ture of bicycles, and tricycles, and quadricycles, for
that matter. In the days of my youth, to be sent
to Coventry was not considered to be a very delight-
ful thing ; now, for a boy to be sent to Coventry
with money in his pocket is, as a rule, of all things
that which he most desires ; that is, at least, if he
has any of the cycling mania about him — a mania
from which most boys appear to suffer more or less
at one time or another. The origin of the familiar
term, ' to be sent to Coventry,' is not so generally
known. It appears that during the Civil Wars there
was a considerable amount of tension and ill-feeling
between the inhabitants of the place and the soldiers
quartered in the city ; so much so, indeed, that the
latter were entirely excluded from any company
save their own. Hence the phrase ' to be sent to
Coventry ' arose amongst the troopers as being
equivalent to being ostracised from all society.
77
CHAPTER VI.
A Bad Road — A Mining Country -Old Mines — Lopsided Houses —
Nuneaton — An Old Hostelrie — Signboards — A Dangerous Bit of
Road — An Obelisk by the Wayside -A Quaint Village and Inn —
Artists and Photographers A Classical Church — An Old-world
Hamlet — Village Names — Ashby-de-la-Zouch — A Visitor's Book —
Bathing Establishment — The Saline Waters — A Bad Speculation
— The Castle — Old Feudal Strongholds and their Builders — The
General History of English Castles — The Restorer in his Glory —
A Fine Gothic Monument.
The road from Coventry to Nuneaton was a very
rough one, the unevenness of the way being caused
by the large coal traffic that passes over it, for we
were now travellino- throu<jh the outskirts of a rich
mining district. All around from our elevated
position (we had mounted to pretty high ground)
was a varied prospect of tall chimneys, high engine-
houses and their accompanying works and outbuild-
ings. The wheels projecting over the pits, from
which wire ropes led down to the depths below,
were constantly at work, and the laborious puff, puff,
of the engines as they slowly drew up the heavy
load of coal came to us continually from one quar-
ter or another accompanied by intensely white
looking clouds of steam wh.ich gave a busy, bust-
ling look to the landscape not altogether unpleas-
ing, and a suggestion of hidden wealth and the
enterprise of man in obtaining it. At a distance —
it must be a c^ood distance, however — one or two
78 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
pits, not more, are by no means a disagreeable fea-
ture in the landscape ; in this respect they are Hke a
railway which, when sufficiently far off to have all
the ugliness of and scars caused by cuttings and
embankments hidden or softened dowm, gives by
the white tail of steam a feeling of life and human
occupation to the scene.
Although there were many pits about, the
country was not covered all over with them ; and
mingled with the strange mining erections were
fields and woods, affording quite a curious picture
of many contrasts to the eye, the dark colour of the
buildings bringing out well the fresh green around.
We passed village after village on the road, with
here and there a deserted worked-out pit, the sur-
rounding buildings and tall chimneys standing out
weirdly and boldly against a waste of grey sky.
From these all the valuable machinery and acces-
sories had been removed ; but generally the large
beam of the pumping engine was left, projecting
aimlessly out and looking strangely gaunt and use-
less. These deserted old engine-houses are most
striking and uncommon objects in the landscape ;
high and square they stand, and at dusk or in the
twilight, seen against an evening sky, they might, by
a stranger, be easily mistaken for a ruined keep of
some old castle. In years to come, when time has
perfected the ruins, and the inevitable ivy and moss
have claimed them for their own, and when per-
chance the owl will flit about in their dim shadowy
recesses, they will doubtless possess a certain quaint
picturesqueness. And as of necessity they have
A BUMPY ROAD. 79
liad to be well and strongly constructed to withstand
the strain of powerful en^-ines, they may possibly
endure as long- as have the old feudal strongholds, and
it may even be that future generations of artists may
admire and paint these old structures. Certainly in
the gloaming, when some of their prosaic surround-
ings are mystified or lost in obscurity, one of these
old engine-houses standing up stern and dark and
grim, the home of desolation (the owl and the bat,
those ruin haunters, being the only signs of life),
impress the mind as being most weird and effective
objects.
From time to time the land has given way and
settled over the disused pits, causing the houses and
even churches to assume a lop-sided appearance.
These buildings were standing in all manner of
angles, looking for all the world as though they had
been out on the spree over-night, and could not
stand upright in the morning.
Nuneaton was our first halt and stage, and we
were not sorry to get off the bumpy road ; here we
found exceedingly comfortable quarters at a very old
inn — the Bull's Head to wit.
We noticed one peculiarity about Nuneaton, a
peculiarity very much to be appreciated by a stranger,
though possibly of not much utility to a native. All
the streets leading from the market-place, or tlie
space that did duty for one, had direction boards
attached to the sides of various houses, so that
without asking you could find your way out of the
town to where you wished to go. Anyone who
has driven about country will understand at once
So A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
the blessings of such an arrang-ement, for it is al-
ways more worrying and difficult to get out of a
strange town than it is to find your way across
country even in the most confusing parts.
We came to the conclusion on leaving this place
that it was not at all a suitable residence for nervous
people who keep horses — that is, if many of the roads
out of the town were similar to the one we traversed.
First we had to cross a bridge with a low parapet,
over a main line of railway, with several engines
beneath busily and noisily shunting ; then came a
sharp and sudden turn to the left down to a level
bit with rails on either side of us, and only a slight
fence between the road and the iron way, with more
locomotives careering wildly about, then under the
line again. It is a nasty enough bit to drive in the
day-time with fresh or high-spirited horses, but on a
dark night it must be a very disagreeable spot to
pass through, when, added to all the above objec-
tions, there is the sudden glare of light thrown from
the engine furnaces upon the steam and smoke.
Our morning's stage had been ten miles, our
afternoon's one would be eighteen, with but small
prospect of a bait on the way ; thus somewhat ex-
ceeding our daily average distance of about twenty
miles. As the road was a good one, on the prin-
ciple of making hay while the sun shines we sped
along at a good pace, as we did not know how long
it might continue so, and we did not wish to be
benighted if we could help it. We were steering
across country. Our course was a difficult one enough
in the daylight, and there is not any great amount
A WAYSIDE OBELISK.
of pleasure t)r excitement in being belated in a maze
of country lanes, especially where the natives are few
and far between to put you right if you are wrong.
About four miles on our way we came upon a
stone obelisk, erected in a corner of a wood, in
a lonely part of the country. We pulled up and
descended to inspect the same, and to see what we
could make of it. We discovered the followinof in-
scription upon it, which we copied : —
IN MEMORY OF
GEORGE FOX,
FOUNDER OF THE SOCIETY OF FRIENDS,
BORN NEAR THIS SPOT, A.D. 1624.
DIED A.D. 1690.
AND WAS INTERRED IN BUNHILL FIELDS
BURIAL GROUND, LONDON.
ERECTED 1872.
As we found to be so often the case, our capital
trotting road came in time to an end, and was suc-
ceeded by an up-and-down one — indeed, a very
much up-and-down one — and so our pace had to be
moderated accordingly. But as the road became
hilly the scenery improved ; so we were even pleased
at the change, for our level bit of running, though
all that could be desired for travelling, was so
hemmed in with high hedges, that we saw little
or nothing of the country beyond, save an occasional
peep over a gate or a lower portion of the fence
here and there. The first village we came to was a
most picturesque one, widi a delightful looking old
rural inn, with its signboard swinging restlessly and
noisily to and fro in the wind. Outside, at any ratC;
the hostel seemed all one could desire : whether the
G
82 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
interior accommodation would have been equal to
the exterior I cannot say, as we did not test it. It
struck us that altogether the hamlet would make
a capital subject for a picture, the much-restored
church excepted. It had quite an ancient look,
appearing doubtless very much the same as it did
a couple of centuries or so ago ; so that in a study
of it a group of Cavaliers or Roundheads could con-
sistently and with much effect be introduced, either
drinking or quarrelling or loafing about in front of
the quaint old inn, and would give the necessary
life and interest to the scene.
The church, it must be confessed, spoilt the
place, and in a painting it would have to be con-
veniently ignored. That is one of the numerous
advantages artists have over photographers — the
ability to select, alter, and arrange their subjects.
A view or a scene may be in most respects perfect ;
but in the near foreground it may happen is an ugly
shed, or a new wall, or a heap of bricks, or some
one thing or another that completely spoils the com-
position. A photographer has to take the evil with
the good ; the artist chooses only the good. But to
return to the church : the body and tower of this is
in the ugliest classical style possible ; it has no
redeeming feature, and at the top of the tower is a
lan^e cross which does not improve matters. This,
I suppose, was intended to be ornamental, but it is
nothing of the sort. Doubtless there was here origi-
nally an old Gothic edifice, which most probably was
pulled down to make room for this most perfectly
ugly structure. The chancel has, however, by some
•rood fortune, escaped the spoiler's hand. This
A PICTURESQUE HAMLET. 83
remnant of the old work looked doubly beautiful in
such direct contrast to the badly proportioned, un-
feeling-, hideous erection it was cfrafted on to ; and,
moreover, it possesses an architectural gem in the
shape of a fine and interesting east window of a
most uncommon form, and reminding us somewhat
of the one in the chapel at Holyrood.
More up and down hill, and then another old-time
village came into sight, with some dear old houses,
evidently existing for the sake of the water-colour
painter, with prim gardens and old-fashioned flowers.
There was a village green here and a pond, and
from the green distant peeps of a well-wooded coun-
try were to be had all around, so that in a scenic
point of view the place was almost perfect. There
were a few geese on the pond, and a boy was
fishing in it, and, moreover, catching some of its
finny inhabitants — small fr)', certainly — but still he
had sport. Children were romping and laughing
on the green ; a carrier's cart was stopping opposite
one of the low red-tiled cottages, the owner of which
was flirting with — or courting perhaps, I should
say — the cottager's pretty daughter. Two waggons,
each with four horses and bells, were slowly, musi-
cally, and peacefully proceeding through the place,
laden with sacks evidently from the mill ; so that
Twy cross, that day at any rate, had more appear-
ance of life than most rural hamlets seem to possess.
It may be we were fortunate in the time of our
visit, and that another day it might seem dull and
prosaic. Then possibly the geese might be in the
fields out of sight, the children be at school, the
G 2
84 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
carrier's cart away, and no teams making their way
along- the road, and so all be still and lifeless. We
noticed here what we presumed to be a relic of the
old posting days — the name of tlie village plainly
painted on a board, which was exhibited on the front
of one of the houses, just as though the hamlet was a
station and the road a railway. We had observed
this before in two or three out-of-the-world places in
Leicestershire and Yorkshire, but nowhere else to
our recollection. In the old times, when people
travelled altogether by road, doubtless such notices
were very useful by informing the wayfarer of the
names of the places he passed through. We wished
more of the old name- boards had been left.
It was getting late when we neared Ashby-de-la-
Zouch, just before arriving at which town we passed
through an estate, the owner of which had evidently
spent considerable sums in laying out and planting
extensive avenues of young trees for the benefit
of his descendants, for the present proprietor could
not possibly in his life-time hope to reap any benefit
from them, unless indeed he was a very young
man and lived to a good old age.
Upon entering Ashby-de-la-Zouch we passed in
the outskirts of the town a comfortable looking
modern hotel, with extensive stabling opposite, but,
fastidious mortals that we were, instead of at once
putting up there and being thankful, we elected to
proceed right into the town, and have a look round
the place and see if there was a better one. When
we got into the market-place we were pleased we
had done so, for we came across in it a quaint-
A COOL RECEPTION. S5
looking' old hostclrlc. We drove into the court)ard
of this in hi.^h spirits, expecting we had found a
regular old-fashioned inn.
Picturesque it certainly was, and outside ap-
pearances suggested cosy and comfortable quarters
within. Alas ! we had a sudden damper placed
upon all our agreeable anticipations. Upon ringing
the bell a servant presently came to the door, not
immediately by any means, however. In reply to
our inquiries she said certainly we could have
rooms, but the landlady and her daughters were all
out, and she did not know when they would return ;
and she did not think she could manage to procure
us any meals till they came back. Moreover, the
ostler had evidently deemed it a favourable time to
take a little holiday on his own account, for he too
was absent somewhere in the town. This settled
us, and we thought that under such management
the hotel would soon be settled too. We certainly
had not calculated upon such a cool reception.
There was nothing for it but to drive back to the
other despised hotel and see what hospitality that
would show us. It was a large building, classical in
style, and more like a temple than a house of enter-
tainment. It had an imposing portico, with windows
at regular intervals on either side above and on a
level, with here and there sham ones, where the
internal economy of the place would not permit of
the real article. However, the inside was better
than the out, and, in spite of its classical and
most unsuitable architecture, we fared very well in
every respect, and had quite a cosy room at the
86 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
back of the house which looked on to a large garden.
We discovered we were the only visitors in the
hotel, and, it being a large one, the knowledge was
rather depressing ; but, on the other hand, we had
plenty of attention. We amused ourselves in the
evening by looking over the visitors' book, and
found amongst the ordinary run of mankind quite a
number of signatures of members of the aristocracy,
besides those of sundry famous men, inscribed therein.
There was as well many remarks, curious and other-
wise, re the hotel, grounds, waters, &c., for it appears
there is a mineral spring here, and at one time large
buildings for baths had been erected in the grounds.
We wondered that, as the book contained so many
signatures of great and noted men, it had remained
unmolested. Collectors and others have at times a
curious notion of meutn et tuuiUy and, as we have
noticed before now, a visitors' book at hotels is a
favourite hunting-ground for them, and by no means
always a barren one.
The bathing establishment does not seem to
have proved a success ; respecting which we
copied the following from the book in question,
and which may be of interest : — ' Having come
here' (Ashby-de-la-Zouch is, of course, understood)
* in order to make myself acquainted by personal
observation with the characters of the saline waters
employed for hot baths, I beg to state that I con-
sider them to possess properties likely to make
them very useful in the treatment of many chronic
complaints. 1 think it only right of me to state
that I regard the Bath establishment equal, if not
A MINERAL SPRING. 87
superior, to any other I liave met with either in
E norland or on tlie Continent. Moreover, I beir to
add that I consider the advantages which this place
offers for hot baths are not a little enhanced by the
accommodation and entertainment offered by the
Royal Hotel— Signed, W. M. Fisher, M.D.,
Downinor Professor of Medicine, Cambridofe.'
There is no date to this testimonial it will be
observed, nor does it state for what chronic com-
plaints, or in what particular respect or respects,
the waters would be likely to prove beneficial. At
any rate, the spring has failed to become famous.
The next morning before breakfast we strolled
out through the garden to inspect the bathing es-
tablishment. We found this to consist of a laree
formal building, meant to appear like a Grecian
temple, but reminding us more of a workhouse than
anything else. In the centre of the pile was a ball-
room, fast, very fast, going to decay ; a considerable
portion of the ceiling had fallen down, and there
was a great gap in the roof, and the rain showed
signs of coming in. But in spite of this, the baths
still appeared to be kept open in a half-hearted sort
of way. Evidently, however well intentioned, the
attempt to start a spa here was a complete failure.
It appeared to us to have been made on too
ambitious a scale. A large ball-room was not a
necessity at first, and must have cost a considerable
amount, that would have been much better spent in
other ways ; till the place had got fairly established,
well known and patronised, such luxuries were
unnecessary and imcalled for. Upon makin*^"-
88 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
inquiries we were tokl die landlord would spend
no more money on the place, and, as the whole
affair seemed doomed to come eventually to grief
(if it could not be considered to have done so
already), we could hardly blame him for thus pro-
tecting himself.
Naturally, as the owner of the estate did not
see his way to do anything further either in keeping
the place up or in repairing it, the tenant, whose
interest was merely temporary, could hardly be
expected to take an enthusiastic view of things, and
spend his money, probably never to see it again,
and very possibly besides losing he would be in-
formed he Vv^as a fool for his pains by his wise friends.
In fact, so complete was the downfall of this
grand scheme, that one wing of the hotel had to be
built off and was fast going the way of all uncared-
for buildings. It was a thousand pities things were
as they were, for the idea was by no means a bad
one, and might, if it had been cautiously and wisely
carried out, have succeeded. There are not so many
spas in England that we can spare one.
As we only intended to make a comparatively
short stage of fourteen miles on to Derby that day,
and there appeared a good deal to see in and
around Ashby-de-la-Zouch, we determined to
wander about the place all the morning and pro-
ceed on our way in the cool of the afternoon.
Naturally, our first visit was to the castle, a fine
old relic of ancient times. We found our way to it
over some fields, and rambled about the old ruins of
our own free will, guideless, and thankful for that
OLD CASTLES. 89
mercy. It was pleasant to discover a ruin in a
natural state ; no footpaths, or gates, or railings, or
notice-boards, or tables and chairs and broken
bottles about, suggestive of 'Arrys and picnickers
were to be seen. We were left free to our own
imaginations and devices, to grope about the old pile
how and as we liked ; we were not obliged to listen
to doubtful stories and apocryphal traditions, and be
hurried along from one part of the place to another.
But though we were without a guide, our wander-
ings were not purposeless ; the old weather-beaten,
stained, and crumbling walls had a history for us
which we read and interpreted to ourselves ; ' ser-
mons in stones ' we found everywhere around us.
These old feudal strongholds have a stern mas-
sive grandeur all their own, which is very impressive
to the beholder. Though their day and glory have
long since departed, still haughtily they stand, as
though conscious of, but too proud to mourn, their
fate. Within their walls, brave warriors all clad in
glittering mail and courtly dames have held high
revels and wassails. We felt in rambling along their
many and gloomy passages, chambers, and halls,
that we walked on the ground where of old stern-
faced warriors trod, whose very names now are lost
in the dim antiquity of the past. Timid sheep were
nibbling the long rank grass in the courtyard as we
passed through, which otherwise was deserted and
lonely enough, and there too nettles, docks, and
brambles had made their home. How great the
contrast froni bygone times to the present! How
unwarlike does the castle now appear ! Strangely
90 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
enough, I can hardly imagine a more peaceful scene
than an old ruined castle. It seems almost impos-
sible in viewing such in the present day to realize
the numerous tragedies that must have taken place
within them, that men really fought and bled upon
their walls. It is hard to conceive that captives had
endured a living death within those bare dungeons
now open to the sky, they look so innocent of such
black deeds, albeit damp and dreary enough.
Though strength was the chief end and aim of
the builders of these structures, ornamentation was
not altogether forgotten or neglected, and where it
could be indulged in without weakening the defen-
sive and offensive properties of the pile, it was ; as
witness the many finely-carved and groined roofs,
quaintly-shaped windows (internal ones, of course),
much-chiselled chimneypieces, and decorated door-
ways.
The history of this castle appears to resemble
that of most other similar ones in England. A gen-
eral tradition of the one will roughly do for all. Of
course Mary Queen of Scots was at one time im-
prisoned here, in charge of the Earl of Huntingdon.
What castle would have a complete history without
having at one time or another held captive that poor
lady ? And, as well, Queen Elizabeth visited here ;
and equally of course the castle came to the natural
ending of all such strongholds — it was held for the
King, and was after a siege taken by the Parliamen-
tarians and dismantled by them. Such is an epitome
of the history of the castle of Ashby-de-la-Zouch, so
called after one Allan-la-Zouch, who held the manor
here in Henry III.'s time, to distinguish it from
THE RESTORER AT WORK. 91
other less famous Ashbys. In the novel of ' Ivanhoe'
Sir Walter Scott has cast his magic wand over the
spot.
We next proceeded to inspect the church, which
is close by ; and on arriving at the lych-gate — oh,
what a si<^ht met our astonished ofaze ! The restorer
in all his glory ! I'he churchyard was covered with
large blocks of stones, and men were busy with
mallet and chisel upon them, and the sacred edifice
itself was surrounded by scaffolding. What a good
time the restorer must have been having, to be sure !
How supremely happy and contented with himself he
must have felt ! This old cliurch was a dainty morsel
for him. Of course we well knew what was being
done, but for curiosity we asked one of the men, to
hear what his reply would be, which came as follows :
' We be about a-restorin' o' her, aye, but she '11
look foine when we a' done the job — just like new,'
The last words were doubtless true enough. Of
course such a restoration meant the destruction of
the church's history — in stone at least.
Near our hotel we noticed a fine monument or
memorial erecting at the corner of two roads ; in
design it was somewhat similar to the various crosses
raised to the memory of Queen Eleanor by her kinf^
The structure was nearly completed, and was really
fine and most pleasing. There was no inscription
upon it \dien we were there, but the ostler told us it
was in memory of the Countess of Loudoun. This
structure interested us not a little, as affording some
idea of how Early English Gothic work appeared
when quite new and fresh, and before time had
tinted it and toned it down.
92 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
CHAPTER VII.
A Delightful Road— Charnwood Forest— A Ruined Manor House —
A Long Descent— An Extensive Panorama— A Long Bridge—
Swarkestone— A Hunters' Inn— A Collision Averted— Windmills
—A Sudden Change in the Weather— A Race against Time— A
Thunderstorm— About Lightning — Hotel Museum— Old Coaching
Bills— Relics of Richard IIL— A Fresh Morning— A Stone Coun-
try—Picturesque Hillsides — Mountainous Countries versus Level
Ones —Belper— Old Mills— Ambergate— The Vale of Cromford—
The Derwent — A Bit of an Old Wall — A Hill-climbing Railway —
A Comfortable Hotel— Inn Gardens— An Evening Prospect.
We had a glorious drive that afternoon on to Derby ;
the weather was perfect, the road most excellent, and
the scenery beautiful and varied. No wonder we
were in high spirits as we once more found ourselves
journeying merrily along, and declaring to each other
that there was nothing in all the world half so jolly
or delightful as driving across country. True, the
barometer had fallen that day both considerably
and suddenly, and as we left our hotel the ostler,
looking up at the sky and vacantly ahead, as only
ostlers can, had prophesied we should have rain
before long. How we despised that man and baro-
meters as well ! Why, there was hardly a cloud to
be seen overhead ; there could not have been a more
perfect tranquillity ; and, besides, enough for us was
the supreme enjoyment of the present. Let the
morrow take care of itself; why should we worry
ourselves about evils that might never happen ?
A GLORIOUS MORNING. 93
How frcsli and balmy was the air! A hundred
various and blending- odours came, wafted to us from
the fields and woods around. The resinous fracrrance
of pine trees and the peculiar scent of the bean flower
were amoni^^st the most noticeable and assertive, be-
sides being fresh to us this journey. What gentle
music, too, the wandering winds made playing- with
the quivering- leaves of the trees that in places made
an avenue of our road, the indescribable harmonious
sur, sur, sur of which reminded us of the distant
ocean when at rest, as it lazily washes on the shore.
The birds also did not neglect their part, and were
singing right merrily from thicket and brake.
Every few yards brought new scenes before our
eyes, the bright fresh green of the meadows near at
hand contrasting well with the darker tints of distant
woodlands and the soft silvery grey of the far-off
hills. The hedge banks by the roadside were a
picture in themselves, and full of a certain wild
careless sort of beauty ; the dog-rose was in all its
glory and in all stages of bloom ; the hone}'suckle,
too, abounded and flourished, and amongst the wil-
derness of ferns, orrasses, and weeds on the ground
were a wealth of half-hidden wild flowers.
We could not resist the temptation to gather
some of the pale-eyed forget-me-nots, which had a
special attraction for us. And as we drove alono-
we thought England was indeed a very pleasant
land — the very pleasantest of all lands. We thou'^ht
so then and still think so now, and who shall say
we were or are wrong ?
The first i)ortion of our road traversed a richlv
94 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
timbered country ; we had beautiful views of woods
beyond \voods, the background being composed of
Charnwood Forest. At one spot we passed an old
red-brick manor or farm-house in ruins, looking very
picturesque and making altogether a charming pic-
ture — one that would gladden the eye of an artist,
with its high-pitched gables, clusters of large chim-
neys, quaint old casement windows, ivied walls and
rich colouring, the whole being framed with a mass
of dark foliage.
Shortly after this old ruin we came upon a long
descent of over two miles, from the top of which
vv'e had a most extensive and comprehensive view
forward. The prospect was indeed a lovely one.
There were broad rolling fields of blooming corn,
and meads of emerald green, dotted here and there
with sheep and cattle ; many a peaceful cottage and
quiet home were sleeping in the bright sunshine
from which blue smoke curled upwards lazily to
the sky ; here and there the steeple of a village
church peeped out from a mass of greenery, and far
down in the vale we could trace the mazy course
of a winding river, like a streak of silver running
through the landscape.
At the foot of the hill we drove over an old
stone bridge a mile or more in length, which crosses
the river Trent and lowlands on either side on num-
berless massive arches : it was one of the longest
bridges, if not the very longest, we had ever driven
over. Doubdess the adjacent level grounds were
flooded in the winter, and consequently the extended
structure. In the bed of the river we noticed a
ROADSIDE PUZZLES. 95
post was stuck with 'Dangerous' plainly written
thereon ; but the cause of the danger was not so
clear, nor the reason why the post was there at all,
unless indeed it could possibly be to warn fox-hunters
against attempting to ford the stream at that spot ;
but then again, it could hardly be for that, for even
the most enthusiastic hunter would scarcely deli-
berately attempt a ford when he could go over a
bridge close by dryshod and without fatigue to his
horse or loss of ground.
The river appeared to be very tranquil, not to
say dull and slow, so it could hardly be intended
for boating men ; therefore, as we could not solve
the riddle, and there was no one about to do so
for us, we gave it up.
It afforded us a good deal of interest and amuse-
ment from time to time on our journey, to reason
the why and wherefore of many puzzling things we
saw. For instance, at one place we passed a few
miles back we observed the church was built on
the top of a bleak hill without even a solitary tree
or a shrub near, and far away from all houses; we
concluded it must have been erected thus, as a land-
mark in years past, when the country around was a
forest wilderness. At another spot it was a mystery
to us why a certain wise or foolish individual should
have made his house one of many stories unless
indeed the said individual had a [)redilection for
mounting stairs — where ground was plentiful and
there appeared no good reason for his so doin<'-.
At the farther end of the bridge we came upon
the tiny village of Swarkestonc. It appeared to
96 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
consist of only one or two houses, and to be very
much out of the world ; indeed, almost enough so to
satisfy an anchorite. Here we were very much
surprised to find a comfortable-looking inn, and one
showing evident signs of prosperity — an unusual
circumstance in such an out-of-the way place. So
much, indeed, were we struck by this uncommon
fact, that we inquired the cause of there being such
a good and flourishing hostel in such an unpromising
locality, and learnt that this was a great centre for
fox-hunters, which explained everything, and saved
us the trouble of suggesting a more unlikely cause.
Almost directly after leaving the village, while
trotting along at a good pace, at a sudden and
rather awkward turn in the road we came unex-
pectedly upon a toll-gate, which was shut, and ob-
structed the way. We had only just time to pull
up our horses upon noticing it to avoid a collision.
Had it been in the dark instead of in the daylight,
and had we been travelling at the same rate, and
also, had there been no light upon the bar, the
chances in favour of an accident would have been
considerable. A toll-gate, and a closed one, is —
the Fates be praised ! — a rarity in the present year
of orrace. They are one of the relics of times past
we can cheerfully dispense with, and are now, save
in a few benighted districts, almost wholly abolished,
and promise in a few years to become as extinct as
Messrs. Dodo, Mastodon, & Co. Presently our
attention was attracted by some windmills busily at
work, and very pleased we were to meet again such
old friends. We have always loved them from our
WINDMILLS. 97
youth upwards ; they arc one of tlic most life-giving
features in a landscape possible to imagine ; a water-
fall or water-wheel have hardly the same effect or
are so suggestive of easy motion. The windmill, of
necessity, stands boldly out and prominently forth
against the sky-line, and cannot, therefore, but claim
attention.
Whilst we had been watchinc;-, fascinated almost
by the steady sailing round and round of the great
arms of these old mills, we had not observed the
sudden change that had taken place in the weather.
In front of us dark sombre clouds had hidden the
deep clear blue. Stormy looking did they appear,
with an angry red tint and an ominous outline
and character that betokened thunder. Then we
remembered the despised ostler's prophecy and the
fall of the barometer, and we thought no longer
disrespectfully or disparagingly of either. We gave
the horses their heads and dashed alone as fast
as we could ; it was a race between us and the
storm, with all the odds in favour of the tempest.
Now and again the wind swept past us in fitful
gusts and then dropped as quickly as it rose ; for a
moment the leaves of the trees rustled and flickered,
and then there was a perfect silence — the calm that
precedes a storm. Suddenly a streak of vivid light
flashed across the gloom, followed by a prolonged
and majestic roll of thunder ; huge drops of warm
rain fell as large as half-crowns. Then there was a
pause. All the while we urged the horses alono-
at break-neck speed, in a vain endeavour to reach
shelter before the inevitable downpour should take
n
98 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
place. Now the wind arose, and the strife of the
elements began in right-down earnest ; the drops
became a torrent ; it was as though it had never
rained since the deluge and the heavens were
making up for lost time. How the water flowed
from off our waterproofs and aprons in ceaseless
cascades on either side of the carriage ! How the
horses danced and pranced about, now shying back
at the lightning, now ready to bolt at the sound of
the thunder! How we rattled through the deserted
streets of Derby, driving aimlessly along, looking
out right and left for the first hotel ! We were not
at all fastidious about our quarters just then — a
roadside public would have been a palace provided
we could have put our horses up. Right before us
we presently espied the Royal Hotel, and as we
drove up under the archway and descended in the
dry and out of the streets, we blessed the builders
of old for their consideration of the comforts of
travellers by road.
We fared well at the Royal ; the landlady, good
old soul, came to meet us, and at once lighted a
fire in our cosy sitting-room, and we were soon all
dry and comfortable again, discussing an excellent
dinner, having forgotten all our outdoor discomforts.
By the time we had finished our meal the storm was
over, the sky was a clear dark blue, not a cloud was
to be seen, the stars shone brightly down, and
behind the dark houses of the town rose the pale
crescent moon ; only the cool freshness of the air,
the wet, shining roads, and pools of water about
told of the past deluge.
LIGHTNING PHOTOGRAPHED. 99
We noticed one thing respecting the storm : the
lightning was not forked, as it is usually, na)-, almost
always, represented in pictures and drawings ; it
rather twisted and turned about like a narrow
ribbon of fire ; there were no sharp angular corners
anywhere. We noted this particularly as an exceed-
ingly brilliant flash or two told out plainly against
the dark inky masses of cloud, and were for the
moment photographed with great clearness upon
our vision. Turner, in a painting of his (a view of
Dover, if I remember aright), represented a flash of
lightning thus and not forked, and the critics at the
time said that he had evidently evolved it out of his
inner consciousness, for there was nothing like it in
Nature. Well, we saw the lightning as Turner saw
it ; the general idea of its forked appearance I be-
lieve to be due to the deception of the eye owing
to the extreme rapidity of a flash.
During a severe storm in Liverpool a year or
two ago, which the morning papers described as
most severe, with unusually vivid lightning, an en-
terprising photographer managed to secure one or
two tolerable negatives of the flashes — rather poor
affairs, pictorially speaking, but of great interest
otherwise, as a lens having no bias or any pre-
conceived idea as to what a flash of lightning should
be like, represented actually what was before it.
These photographs showed all the flashes to be
ribbon-like, and twisting about in all directions ;
there were no sharp angles or suggestions of them
anywhere. So after all Turner was right, as he gen-
erally was in his representations of natural effects.
II 2
loo A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
It is my belief there is no such thing as forked Hght-
ning ; it is an impression of the brain, not a fact.
We found the hall of our hotel, and ample
landing spaces upstairs, filled with curiosities— fine
old carved chests and antique cabinets, besides some
capital sporting and other pictures. It was, alto-
gether, more like a museum than a house of enter-
tainment, and we spent an hour or more inspecting
these with considerable interest and amusement.
The different relics, old play-bills, coaching announce-
ments of bygone days, &c., had the appearance of
being genuine, but more, of course, I cannot say.
Amongst the various things we saw was an old
printed notice on faded silk, framed ; this we copied,
as being of more than passing interest. It ran as
follows : —
Defiance Coach
In 21 Hours from London
to Manchester on Sunday lo April 1814
Brought the Glorious News of the
Tyrant Bounaparte
Having abdicated the Throne
And the Senate Declaring for
Loues XVIII.
This and almost every news of Importance
has been brought by this Coach to Manchester.
In another frame close to this was enclosed some
much-decayed and faded crimson silk damask, richly
embroidered, with the following description written
underneath : —
Part of the furniture of the bed on which Richard III. slept at
Bosworth Hall, Leicestershire, the night before the battle of Bosworth
Field.
We awoke to an almost perfect morning the next
LANDSCAPE AFTER RAIN.
day — in fact, it would have been impossible for us
to have improved it in any way, even had we so
desired. The air was deliciously cool and bracing
after the storm of the previous night; the wind-
swept, storm-washed sky was of a deep sapphire
blue, across which great white clouds went sailing
by, causing a continual play of lights and shadows
everywhere, with ever-varying effects and bright
contrasts. The country looked delightfully fresh
and pure and green, the rain had brought out the
colour of ever)thing ; the foreground was full of
rich, warm, mellow tints, and the far-off distance
was an intense pure blue — such positive colour is
very rare in an English landscape. There was
neither dust nor glare, only a softened sunshine.
The grasses, the hedge-rows, the numberless leaves
of the trees, each retained some drops of moisture,
which glistened in the sun, and were turned by
it into countless diamonds, topazes, rubies, and
emeralds. All Nature, it seemed, was in a joyous
niood. The lark welcomed us into the open country
with a thrilling song of gladness, a speck of quiver-
ing harmony in the deep blue alcove. Nor were
other feathered warblers silent : we heard the black-
bird, the thrush, and the bullfinch, and now and
aeain came to us the curious harsh notes of the
corncrake. The rooks, too, were apparently having
a good time of it, for they passed over us in flights,
returned again, and wheeled round and round the
tall elms, caw, caw, cawing to each other incessantly ;
but, not understanding bird language, we were not
much the wiser for all their gossip. The swallows, too,
A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
were skimming- over the ground in restless activity,
and the busy hum of wandering bees greeted us
along our way.
We were in a stone country now — all the houses,
cottages, and even sheds, were of that material ; red
brick was no longer to be seen, nor the faded yellow
of thatch, nor the warm-looking tiles that give such
a glow of rich colour to the view when lit up by the
sun. But the houses had all a substantial, solid look
that was pleasing to the eye, and suggestive of
warmth in winter and the ability to keep out the
cold blast. By degrees the hedges gave way to
walls, and these were not displeasing for a change,
for they were old and mellowed by age, and not
freshly erected and offensive to the eye.
Give Nature time and let her alone, and she will
adorn the ugliest building. First she sends mosses
and lichens ; presently stone-crop makes an appear-
ance, then ivy begins gradually but surely to creep
up, and the wind and birds leave tiny seeds in the
various crevices ; in due course, grasses and small
ferns and even flowers spring forth. The stones
become tinted and toned with exposure to the
atmosphere, and that which was once commonplace
has become a thing of beauty.
Hills began to rise up on either side of us — along
which the sunlight travelled, revealing many scenic
beauties ; dark pines fringed the breezy summits,
from out of which grey rocks showed here and
there, and graceful masses of foliage descended
to the vale, interspersed with cultivated fields, green
sward, and cosy-looking homes. The lower portions
DERBYSHIRE. 103
of the slopes were of a much bii:;hLer tone tlian the
hi^rher parts. At the foot of the liills were more
fields, upon the comparatively level ground, through
which in and out wound a river, reflecting the blue
and white of the sky. We felt we were now in
Derbyshire, and nearing some of that famous county's
most famous scenery. Every mile of our way ap-
peared more beautiful than the last ; each turn in the
road disclosed some fresh point or view, similar and
yet different from what we had seen before. Hilly
countries have one great advantage over level ones —
the continual change of the outlines of the highlands
and peaks lends a constant variety and a special
character to each scene. Even a single mountain
seen from various points has distinctive features
from each one, which features are again varied by
clouds and mists.
Our midday halt was at Belper, a small though
busy market and manufacturing town, and apparently
a prosperous one. Here are some large cotton mills,
some indeed of the largest in the kingdom, and we
quite expected to be thoroughly disgusted with the
place, but instead of this we were agreeably disap-
pointed. To begin with, we found a very comfort-
able inn, which we had hardly expected, the stables
of which were the best we had had during the
journey. The old square courtyard, surrounded by
stalls, loose-boxes, carriage-houses, &c., was actually
all protected from the weather by an extensive glass
roof, an unaccustomed luxury to us. The gigantic,
many-windowed mills were by no means the un-
gainly and uncompromisingly ugly structures such
I04 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
buildings generally — nay, almost always — are. They
appeared to us to have been originally much smaller,
but to have been added to from time to time as
necessity required for extended business, or altered
to suit improved machinery — such additions and
alterations causing an irregularity and an absence
of sameness that is advantageous in a picturesque
point of view, whatever it may be commercially.
Then bold, arched gateways, and the water running
round their basement (like moats of old), all help
to take away much of the barrack and box-like look
of ordinary factories. The air, too, was pure around ;
no heavy pall of smoke hung over the place, hiding
the glad sunshine ; and just beyond the mills was
the wide, free, open country, a rich and beautiful
country, affording pleasant rural rambles over hill
and dale, and along country lanes. Fortunate factory
hands to live in such a town ! How different is the lot
of your brethren in such huge cities as Manchester,
Bolton, Paisley, &c. !
The drive from Belper to Ambergate was one of
continued and increasing loveliness. At the latter
place there is a large junction, and we had to pass
under the railway and then drive for some distance
close alongside of it. Here several engines were
standing idly but by no means quietly, for the
escape of steam from them made a deafening sound
which was re-echoed by the hills around ; this caused
our horses to become exceedingly frisky, and they
began to rear and plunge about in such an awkv/ard
manner, that, though we were not actually nervous,
still we were glad to get away from the spot with-
VALE OF CROMFORD. 105
out any further trouble. Just as we had cleared
the junction, a prolonged whistle, followed almost
instantaneously by a roar as of thunder accompanied
by a quick 'chic, chic, chic, puff, puff, puff and a whirl-
wind of dust and steam, told that the Manchester
or Liverpool express was speeding on its lightning
course Londonwards. We were pleased to have
missed it ; and as soon as it had passed the other
engines commenced to whistle in chorus and be^an
to move on their respective ways, or shunt about
backwards and forwards and forwards and back-
wards, to an inexperienced observer in a very aim-
less manner.
We now turned to the left and entered the Vale
of Cromford, to my mind one of the most beautiful
of the Derbyshire dales, though certainly not im-
proved by the railway running along one side of
it. The valley is a narrow one ; on either side are
sloping hills, covered with various trees of many
tinted foliage, from the dark and gloomy fir to the
light and gay silver}' birch. On the top of the hills
bare rocks showed here and there, and purple moor-
lands were now and again visible. Along the valley
runs the Dervvent, as beautiful a river as the heart
of an artist or of an angler could desire. In one
spot it glides along with a smooth even current, re-
flectinij as in a mirror the woods and overhaneine
cliffs above, then suddenly its silvery glass-like sur-
face changes — it becomes agitated, small whirlpools
appear, and near tlie shore in the miniature bays it
eddies and whirls round and round and all reflec-
tion is lost ; the colour now is more of a raw sienna
io6 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
tint, with irregular markings of transparent green,
and brown, and grey. Presently tiny waves arise
tipped with cream-coloured foam, and then there is
a sparkle as of myriads of diamonds as it makes a
series of cascades over some hidden rocks below,
only quickly once more to relapse into a quiet mood,
with hardly a ripple to break its calm surface. As
we proceeded along, one side of the valley in shade
and one in the full glory of the sunlight, with the
gleaming river at our feet, we thought it was as fair
a scene as rocks, and stream, and hills, and woods
could make. There was our road, a sleepy canal,
the railway, and the river, all traversing the narrow
vale, and at times there was not room for all, and
the iron track, being the last comer, had to bury it-
self in the cliff sides, much to the advantage of the
scenery, but to the disadvantage of the travellers
thereby.
At one spot we were tempted to pull up and
loiter about. It was on a piece of level sward,
close by an old broken-down wall, and sheltered
by some overhanging trees, through whose wilder-
ness of leaves the soft sunlight shone, forming a
twinkling pattern of green and gold all around us.
From the heather-clad hills above a tiny stream
gurgled adown its mossy-bordered channel, half
hidden by ferns, plants, and wild flowers, but
plainly showing its course by the fresh bright ver-
dure caused by the welcome moisture. That bit
of old wall was a picture ; ivy and honeysuckle,
briars and brambles, had all stolen over it, mosses
flourished on it everywhere, and at its foot the
AN OLD WALL. 107
bracken luxuriated, brown, green, yellow, and red.
The raofsred robin, too, had made its home in the
many crevices, as had a variety of tender ferns ;
and close at hand we saw a number of bilberry
wires, with their light green leaves and the purple
bloom of their fruit. As we looked upon that wall
we wondered much whether such or a hedge was
the more beautiful, and we concluded than an old
wall that had been left for years to the care of
Nature carried the palm.
Near our resting spot we discovered a strange
railway boldly mounting right up the hill side at a
gradient of one mile in eight. This wonderful
sky-soaring track belongs to the Peak Railway. A
stationary engine at the top of the hill pulls up the
trucks — ordinary ones — two at a time by means of a
stout wire rope. Now and again this has broken,
and a general and very complete smash-up has been
the result ; , but as no passengers are allowed to be
carried, only goods and minerals being taken, there
has been no loss of life. After mountinsf the hill-
side, on the comparatively level top ordinary engines
are employed to work the trains. This mountain
line cost 200,000/. to construct ; it is thirty-two miles
long, and has not proved a successful venture to the
original shareholders.
The approach to Matlock on this side is very
fine — indeed it might almost without exaggeration be
termed grand. The road enters through a narrow
passage or defile blasted out of the solid rock,
shortly after passing which the village is revealed,
situated wholl)- on one side of the river : the other
io8 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
consists of frowning- limestone crags, which are nearly
perpendicular, and are most effective. Bare they are
at the top, but covered with pines, firs, and beech-
trees lower down ; and at their base are tangled
thickets of brushwood, out from amongst which
peep grey moss and ivy covered boulders, wrecks
in former ages of the cliffs above. There is a certain
wild beauty in the scene even now, though it is
somewhat spoilt by the proximity of buildings. We
drove up here to the New Bath Hotel (new only in
name), and which proved to be a most comfortable
hostelrie. It is situated on an elevated plateau, and
afforded us a fine prospect of a portion of the valley
we had lately traversed. In the garden of the inn
is an ancient lime-tree, a marvel in the way of lime-
trees, and said to be nearly two centuries old ; it is
of vast circumference, and is altogether a remarkable
specimen of arboreous growth. A stream of warm
mineral water running close to the roots of the tree
is said to account for its great size and flourishing
condition. Certainly it bears its weight of years
wonderfully.
We sat out of doors that cool balmy evening
watching the golden splendour of the sky and the
purple shadows stealing over the valley beneath us,
whilst the rest of the visitors were all indoors at
table d'hote, little heeding or caring for the beautiful
transformation scenes that were going on outside.
The west was all aglow with a soft radiance ; the
sun was setting behind the wooded heights amongst
many ruby-tinted clouds ; but his glory lingered
lovingly and long upon the topmost peaks of the
AN EVENING EFFECT. 109
grand cliffs opposite, which showed in the glowing
light a rich, warm, orange tint ; and here and there a
solitary projecting ambitious tree caught the golden
hue, standing proudly out amidst the green gloom
around. The shadows of the rocks were of a tender
pearly transparent grey ; all the rest of the scene was
in deep cool shade. Only where the river flowed far
beneath us was there any warmth of tone, for here
and there the waters caugrht and reflected the light
of the rocks above ; and further away, where the
river formed a cascade, the murmur of which came
plainly to us on the still evening air, a silvery sheen
was revealed, relieving the dark gloom of the dense
surrounding foliage. Looking further down the
valley, the lights and shadows grew fainter and
fainter. The outlines of the distant hills became
more and more indistinct, till at last they melted
into a mystery of azure grey ; hills and woods and
sky blending into one uncertain confused whole.
Such was the glorious farewell to earth of the dying
day. It was an impressive view we had that night
of Matlock's romantic vale. Would the orarish lisfht
of the morning make all appear commonplace ? We
almost feared to ask ourselves the question.
A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
CHAPTER VIII.
Round about Matlock — The High Tor — A Showman's Paradise — An
Amusing Encounter — Caves — The Crystallized Cavern — A Bridge
swept away — Nature's Workshops — Petrifying Wells — The Cum-
berland Cavern — Our Guide — The English Tourist — A Wonderful
Jump — Characteristic Old Bridges — Mountain Air — Crich Hill — A
Geological Marvel — A Terrible Landslip — Derbyshire Villages —
Romantic Scenery — Wingfield Manor — The Architects of Old —
Ancient Buildings — A Grand Old Ruin.
We were up betimes next morning, and set out at
once after breakfast upon a general tour of inspec-
tion of the romantic town of Matlock and its sur-
roundings, for romantic it is, though sadly spoilt by
the builder and the inevitable tripper. The railway
has both made and spoilt Matlock. In one sense it
has made the place, for, owing mainly to the facilities
it provides, from a small village with no pretence
beyond the picturesque, Matlock has grown into
quite a respectable town, and now boasts of several
large hotels, hydropathic establishments, baths, mu-
seums, shops with plate-glass fronts, gas, and all the
many and sundry products of modern civilization ;
but the peaceful, restful quiet has gone for ever.
There are in reality four towns or villages spreading
over altogether about two miles of ground. There
is Matlock Village, with its ancient church — this is
the genuine original Matlock ; besides which there is
Matlock Bank, of water-cure renown ; Matlock Bridge,
THE HIGH TO ft in
a comparatively new growth ; and finally, Matlock
Bath, where the mineral waters arc. It was at the
Old Bath Hotel, in the latter, that Lord Byron,
who was a frequent visitor here, first met Miss
Chaworth, the heiress of Annesley, and here the
incident occurred, as related by Moore, that even-
tually led to the estrangement of the two lovers.
However much altered the place may have
become of late years, nothing can take away from
the glory of the lion of the spot — i.e. the High Tor.
This majestic grey crag of limestone rises boldly
up from out the valley, and is an imposing and strik-
ing spectacle whencesoever viewed. The impression
caused by this huge cliff does not arise altogether from
its height ; indeed, it is elevated only some 400 feet
above the river at its foot, but its shape is dignified,
stern, and eminently impressive. The upper portion
of it is quite perpendicular, and it dominates the
narrow vale in a lordly manner. The view from
the top of the High Tor is an extensive one, but
the land on the summit has been purchased by a
company, who have laid it out in pleasure grounds,
with walks and railings, and you have now to pay
so much for the liberty of climbing up the hill. We
neither paid nor climbed. The stranger cannot
proceed about Matlock very far without becoming
aware of the fact that, however generous Nature may
have been in her gifts to the place, man has every-
where taken great care to turn those gifts to his
own special pecuniary advantage. Every bit of
vantage ground is religiously fenced in, and so much
ahead demanded for admission. The many caverns,
112 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
petrifying wells, natural curiosities are only to be
viewed by parting with so much good coin of the
realm. Access to the Heights of Abraham (why that
strange name ?) cannot be had except by payment
of 6^., and many of the secluded walks are forbidden
to the visitor except on the same terms. In fact,
turn where you will, one of the chief characteristics
of the place is the numerous notice boards which
everywhere abound, directing you to some natural
sight, curiosity, view, or walk, with the notice —
admission so much.
One thing in connection with this show business
afforded us considerable amusement. A bitter feud
— apparent or real — exists between the various pro-
prietors, for each one is most particular to inform
you that his cavern, or whatever the sight may be,
is the only one worth seeing in the place, and that
all the others are nothing worth (' takes in ' was the
actual term used to ourselves). In fact, such a spirit
of rivalry exists, that at times it is positively em-
barrassing to the unfortunate visitor, whom the
birds of prey scent afar off, and swoop down upon,
to his great discomfiture. We noticed quite a fight
between two rivals for the possession of a party ;
eventually, to our intense delight, a third individual
suddenly appeared upon the scene, and carried off
the prize in triumph, leaving numbers one and two
in a state of hostility that actually threatened blood-
shed. We afterwards heard that the said numbers
one and two patched up a diplomatic truce, and
made it rather hot for number three, who, by the
whole tribe of guides, cavern and curiosity pro-
A CAVERN OF CRYSTALS. 113
prietors, was hencefortli boycotted for his unpro-
fessional conduct. Shortly afterwards, we noticed
a long paragraph in the papers respecting this very
affair, written, presumably, by one of the victimized
visitors.
One of the chief attractions of Matlock appears
to be its caverns, which everywhere abound. It is
a great lead-mining country, and every old worn-
out working flourishes forth, and does duty as, a
grand 7iatii7'al curiosity. Two of these we were
tempted to inspect, one of which, the Crystallized
Cavern, as it is called, situated romantically at the
foot of the High Tor, and approached by a foot-
bridge over the river, is well worth' seeing, and
is really the only genuine one in the place. The
whole of the cavern is adorned with beautiful crys-
tallizations of calcareous spar, termed scalon-dodeca-
hedron, but more popularly known as dog-tooth
crystals (a much better word to describe them).
These sparkle and shine in the candle-light and
gas, for the latter is laid on, in a wonderful and
most pleasing manner. We were highly delighted
with our visit. It appears that this cavern, which
is of small extent, though truly a great and most
beautiful natural curiosity, is much less patronized
than the others, which are chiefly, if not entirely,
artificial excavations made in the search for lead ore.
It would seem, therefore, that size, not beauty or
rare formations, is the Qrreat desideratum for caverns.
The guide is also the tenant of the place ; he proved
to be an intellicjent and an amusino- character, in
which he decidedly differed from most others of his
I
114 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
callinor. He told us he had had to build the foot-
bridge which we had crossed at his own expense.
The previous winter a heavy flood had swept his
former bridge entirely away, and all his profits of
the year with it, A portion of the ruins of the old
structure were still visible in the waters beneath.
This portion of England is full of interest for
both the geologist and the mineralogist. It must
be remembered that the limestone measures were
deposited from the seas which, aeons of ages before
the coal formations came into existence, covered the
portion of our globe where now Great Britain stands.
The stone is literally crammed with fossils of bivalve
shells and other sea-fish and Crustacea, besides
impressions of marine plants and various extinct
animals. These are easily to be observed in almost
any wall that is built of limestone. We secured many
fine specimens of shell-fish from that source. But,
to return to the cavern, our guide showed us the
crystals by means of a candle stuck on the end of
a long stick — a rather primitive arrangement. In
course of time, this mode of exhibitinor the beauties
of the place has caused the crystals to become
coated with a composition of grease and smuts,
which certainly does not add to the natural trans-
parent qualities of the same. We suggested to the
proprietor that he should spend the next winter,
when visitors were conspicuous by their absence,
and when he complained of having nothing to do,
in thoroughly cleansing these. Whether he took
our advice or not I cannot say, though he said
most assuredly he should do so.
PETRIFYING WELLS. 115
Our next visit was to one of the so-called petrify-
ing wells, which, by the way, we were informed by the
owner, had been patronized by nearly all the crowned
heads of Europe, and most of the nobility ; and, we
imagined, very much by 'Arryand his companions in
arms. The charge of admission is only 2d., so it
is not a ruinous treat. Here we saw a remarkable
number and extraordinary variety of articles, includ-
ing birds' nests with eggs (evidently the favourite
subject for experimenting upon), old hats, branches
of trees, a skull, &:c., undergoing the process of so-
called petrifaction ; that is to say, a constant dripping
of moisture encrusts them with a certain hard deposit
of a stony consistency, precipitated from the lime-
stone water, from which we concluded it would not
be a very wholesome liquid to drink.
On leaving the well we proceeded to the Cumber-
land Cavern, really a very old and extensive mine,
but a natural fissure of some extent had been dis-
covered during the excavations, and we were anxious
to see this, especially as we were told there were
some fine stalactites in it, and we wished as well to
get some idea of what an old working was like.
We had a stiff climb up the hill-side to get to the
entrance, on arriving at which we sat down to regain
our breath, and at the same time enjoyed the fine
panorama that was spread out beneath us. Mean-
while the guide got the necessary candles, &c., ready,
and when all was in order we followed him. There
was not much to see. At first we groped our way
down and along a dark and winding passage,
scrambling here and there over damp slippery rocks,
I 2
ii6 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
in the course of which we managed to spill a good
deal of candle-grease over ourselves. On noticing
this, the guide naively begged us never to mind, as
everybody did the same. At last we came upon a
fine cavernous opening some hundred feet long and
twenty wide and about the same in height, the walls
of rock on either side being almost perpendicular
and the roof perfectly flat like that of a room ; at
the further end of this were numbers of rocks of all
shapes and sizes lying about in all conceivable direc-
tions, as they must have lain for unnumbered cen-
turies ; one, a huge mass of several tons, was sup-
ported on a mere point ; then we entered upon more
narrow tunnel-like workings, until at last the guide
informed us we had penetrated three quarters of a
mile into the earth, and said we could go on further
if we wished. But we had no such desire ; indeed,
we felt we had had quite enough of it, excepting the
one gallery-like cavern (which, however, of its kind
was very fine) ; the rest of the place was merely a
series of passages cut and blasted out of the rock in
searching for ore, and one passage was very much
like another ; some might possibly be a little damper
than others, but that was no great attraction or re-
commendation. So we declined to proceed further.
We felt we had done our duty in underground ex-
ploration, and so we set our faces earthwards. On
returning to the spot where the rocks were strewn
about, our guide ostentatiously halted, and, holding
his candle first to one and then to another, he gave
fanciful names to each. ' This one,' he said, ' re-
sembles a flitch of bacon ; that over yonder a grand
OUR GUIDE. 117
" piany ;" the one to the left is shaped Hke a porpoise,'
&c. At last, however, the end came, and we were
thankful for it, but not till most of the rocks had been
christened. We sugg^ested he might save himself a
deal of trouble and a vast amount of breath if he
would generalize matters and say the rocks all, as a
rule, bore a striking resemblance to balloons — the
likeness or likenesses would have been quite as
correct, if not more so, and he would have spared
himself the trouble of inventing portraits in stone
of things on the earth and under the waters.
Whether he felt hurt at our levity, or whether
a faint suspicion that we were making fun of him
crossed his mind, I cannot sa}-, but the rest of the
way he was dumb, and only answered our queries in
monosyllables. A Derbyshire native is very slow
in comprehending a joke ; in this respect he distances
a Scotchman out and out. ' Strong in the arm and
weak in the head ' is an old saying relating to the
lower class of inhabitants of this county, and there
is still a grain of truth in it. Passing through the
long cavern we failed to discover any stalactites
where they should have been ; the reason, we learnt,
was that they had long ago all been broken and
stolen by various visitors, the same type of creatures
doubtless who cut their names and initials wherever
they are able, and vv^rite them in pencil almost every-
where. A propos of this latter infatuation or disease,
or whatever it may be, I may here mention a rather
good story that was told to me as a fact, suppressing
names and places. In a certain ante-hall of an old
country-house, which was kindly allowed to be shown
ii8 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
by the owner, Messrs. Tom, Dick, and 'Arry, besides
others who should have known better, had written
and, alas ! cut their unworthy names on the old oak
panelling, some of which are (or were) most legible,
giving even their owners' place of abode and date of
signature. The old squire was a character, and he
took his revenge in a quiet way. Over the names
he had plainly carved this inscription : ' A List of
Fools.'
But I must not forget we are still in the cavern.
As I have said, our guide became silent ; I believe
he was verily offended with us on account of our re-
marks, but suddenly, on nearing the place of exit, a
striking change came over his manner ; he was all
politeness and smiles, and appeared very anxious
lest we should stumble or come to grief in any way.
This struck us as being very strange, not to say un-
called for, as we were nearing and walking to the
light, and there was less cause for any mishap oc-
curring there than further in ; and certainly in the
darkest passages where some care was requisite he
had shown no special solicitude for our welfare.
However, the mystery was soon explained ; upon
emerging out of the darkness the guide took our
candles from us and said ' he hoped we would re-
member him.' We replied we would do our very
best never to forget him ; but even that did not
satisfy him. He explained that what he meant was
' he hoped we would give a trifle to the guide.' * Oh,'
we replied, appearing suddenly enh'ghtened. * You
see, sir,' he said, ' I generally a-gets something extry
besides the entrance fee from the visitors ; ofener
A WONDERFUL LEAP. 119
nor not I 'as a large party wat pays me better nor
two like yourselves,' all the while barring the way
of our exit. Seeing the inevitable, the ' extry ' tip
made its clue appearance. The most delightful ex-
perience of this mine was the getting into the fresh
open air and bright sunlight again.
We had now seen all we wished of Matlock,
both above earth and under earth, and as a first
detachment of trippers had made their unwelcome
appearance, we felt it was about time to beat a
retreat, before the main body of the army arrived.
Out of Matlock for about half a mile we retraced
our road as far as Cromford. Here we turned to
the left over an ancient stone bridfre, the arch of
which repeats itself in the water beneath. On the
parapet of this old structure is cut an inscription
(not a very clear one, however), which we afterwards
learned recorded the feat of a certain horse who,
with its rider, leaped over the side into the meadow
or stream below, without, however, hurt to either. It
was certainly a wonderful jump, and it is marvellous
how no bones were broken or a worse mishap did
not occur. We could not discover whether the horse
took fright or the man was drunk, or if it was simply
a mad freak. We could hardly imagine anyone
in his right senses deliberately attempting such a
thing ; a broken neck would, we imagined, be the
inevitable result of such a mad proceeding. How-
ever, there appears to be a special providence that
watches over fools and drunken men, otherwise we
should hear of more catastrophes to such.
From this bridije we had a few miles of level
A DTtlVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
road, a rather rare luxury in such a hilly county as
Derbyshire ; to the left of us rose up wooded hills,
fir crowned, upon whose sides comfortable-looking
homes and cottages appeared snugly ensconced in
masses of greenery ; to the right of us glided along,
with a soothing, musical murmuring, the beautiful
Derwent, shining and glistening through the trees
that bounded our road like a streak of molten silver.
On the opposite side of the valley were more wooded
hills, with trees flourishing bravely to their very
summits. Our excellent stretch of road, as all good
things do, came to an end in time, and it suddenly
commenced to ascend. Now, when a road in Derby-
shire begins to mount, as a rule, it does mount and
no mistake about it, and you have to make up your
mind for stiff climbing. Right up the side of the
hill we went, and the more we rose the steeper the
gradient appeared ; from time to time we had to
come to a stop, and had to rest our steeds by pulling
up right across the track. As we ascended, by de-
grees the foliage, which at first was so luxuriant as
to shut out all view, became less and less dense, the
woods were less closely connected, and through
openings here and there we caught glances of the
azure distance beyond, looking very tender and soft
owing to the sudden contrast with objects so close
at hand.
The higher we rose the more bracing and in-
vigorating became the air, the horizon grew up before
us, and the landscape, now visible for miles around,
spread out beneath us a glorious expanse of wood-
land» hill, and dale, stretching far away till lost in
A LANDSLIP.
the dreamy distant blue, where hills and sky blended
together in the uncertain haze. At last we reached
a height where no trees interrupted either the view
or the air. On these breezy uplands how delight-
fully cool and light appears the atmosphere! There
was no land higher than we were for miles around,
so there was nothing to intercept the rolling waves
of air ; they came at first from off the sea, and swept
over the land unimpeded in their course till they
reached us, pure and fresh, tonic-laden, and life-
giving. There is nothing in the whole Pharmacopoeia
so powerful a remedy for dyspepsia and the hundred
and one ailments flesh is heir to as mountain air ;
such, in England at least, is always combined to a
certain extent with the ozone of the sea. There are
some advantages in living in a small island.
Some six miles or so from Matlock we passed
along the side of Crich Hill, one of the most interest-
ing geographical features in the kingdom. Here
strata overlie strata of different formations ; first of
all on the top comes limestone, next clay, then mill-
stone grit, and lastly, congealed lava, proving beyond
doubt the volcanic origin of this strange hill. And
what a sight we beheld as we passed over the hill !
Some dozen or more acres of land had bodily slipped
down towards the valley, owing doubtless to the
sharp dip of the strata, forming a confused mass of
ridges, fissures and chasms, and taking with them a
good portion of the road. Here a temporary track
had been made joining the two ends of the dis-
severed old way. Over this we had to drive care-
fully, for it was very rough and uneven, and as we
122 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
drove along, we wondered, if another such a gigantic
sHp should then take place, where it would land
us ; such an event did not seem impossible by any
means, and doubtless in time, now the work of moving
has begun on such a grand scale, other minor dis-
placements will some day, sooner or later, take place.
Houses and cottages were destroyed and damaged
by this tremendous landslip ; in fact, quite a respect-
able earthquake would hardly have done more
damage. When I was travelling in California some
years ago, whilst staying on a visit at Calistoga Hot
Springs, a volcanic part of the world, a small earth-
quake actually took place, without doing a tithe of
the damage.
There is one thing about a limestone country,
however beautiful the scenery may be, the roads are
a terrible drawback. In fine weather they are dis-
agreeably dusty, and their whiteness is very glaring
and trying to the eyes. After rain and in the winter
the limestone gets ground down into a kind of most
adhesive mortar, unpleasant to walk or drive over,
as it sticks to everything it touches with a pertinacity
worthy of a better cause.
Derbyshire moorland villages are bare and unin-
teresting-looking ; the houses are built of cold grey
stone. They are, as a rule, square, plain structures
entirely devoid of the picturesque ; no creepers adorn
their walls, which, however, are thick and substantial.
The pigsty too often takes the place of the garden.
Is the pig 'the gentleman that pays the rent' here
as in Ireland, I wonder ? However, their interiors,
from the glance or two we caught, appeared comfort-
MOORLAND VILLAGES. 123
able and clean. Poverty there micrht be, but not
dirt or squalor. The children we saw were running"
about wild, with tangled hair, shabby clothes, but
possessing- healthy-looking and ruddy complexions,
and appeared to be enjoying their existence im-
mensely. If not beautiful, these elevated hamlets
are at any rate healthy ; they glory in an abundance
of the purest air, almost too much of it in the winter
one would imagine, and the water of the moorland
springs and streams is beyond suspicion.
Our road now began to descend, just before
which we had a charming view of the Derwent
Valley ; the cloud shadows travelling quickly over
it, now one part was all in gloom, anon it rejoiced
in the golden sunlight, the shadow and the sunshine
heading the eye along from beauty spot to beauty
spot. It was a fair sight, and more like a dream of
scenery than a reality — an artist's ideal, than a bit of
actual landscape. We endeavoured to make a sketch
of it, but so poor appeared our attempt to the living
prospect, that we tore it up in disgust. Distant
views, how^ever beautiful, rarely make pleasing pic-
tures, and the more extended and varied the pano-
rama, the more difficult it is to do anything with it.
Exactly the reason of this it is hard to say, but it is
a very patent fact. Only once have I ever seen a
really successful delineation of a large extent of land-
scape as view^ed from a height.
As we descended the country became w^ooded
again and assumed once more a pastoral aspect.
Presently a turn in the road revealed to us the old,
grey, time-worn towers, shattered turrets, and mighty
124 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
gables of Wingfield Manor peeping above a dense
mass of trees, and standing out in strong relief
against the sheen of the summer sky, its hoary old
walls contrasting strangely with the bright fresh
green of the foliage around. The irregular diver-
sified outline of this ruin is very effective, and forms
a most pleasing picture when viewed from a short
distance away. Here we pulled up, and alighting
from our carriage we wandered along a footpath in
the direction of the old pile. We met no one ; the
only sign of life was some cattle contentedly munch-
ing the grass, and who looked up curiously as we
passed, then resumed their operations and took no
more notice of us.
Wingfield Manor is a most interesting old ruin ;
it is more of a princely residence, secured by strong
battlemented walls against a sudden attack, than a
castle pure and simple, though it possesses a mas-
sive square keep — a place fortified for an occasional
emergency, sufficiently so indeed to enable it to
withstand a short siege. It is a happy and some-
what rare combination of military and domestic
architecture, being built both for enjoyment and de-
fence. To a limited extent it possesses the strength
of an old feudal castle with the conveniences of a
private residence ; it is a stepping-stone between the
old Norman stronghold and such mansions as H ad-
don and Hard wick Halls, Knole House, Cowdray,
and countless others. As we approached the old
relic of bygone times, it stood up before us silent
and proud, holding a great power over our imagin-
ations.
A RUINED MANOR-HOUSE. 125
A portion of the building is converted into a
farm-house ; we saw no one about, but as a matter
of courtesy we knocked at the door and asked
permission to look over the place, which was at
once granted. The ruins, which are situated on a
rising knoll and command the country all around,
are very extensive ; the plan of the building in its
present condition is somewhat difficult to under-
stand, but we let our fancies have full play and
endeavoured as far as possible to recall to ourselves
how it was in the past. The old banqueting-hall
was not hard to discover, and a grand apartment it
niust have been, measuring as it does, roughly (we
only gathered the size by stepping it), some eighty
feet long by nearly forty broad. It is roofless now
and floored with coarse grass ; ivy covers the walls
that once were adorned with heavy tapestry ; its
windows are all gone (though a hundred years ago
many remained glazed), only crumbling, grey-green
mullions and transoms at present are left ; trailing
creepers cover the vacant spaces once filled with
richly stained-glass — through which transparent
greenery the sun gleams with a soft yellow tint.
The hall, which echoed with the sound of wassail
and of merry jest, which blazed with lights and
rung with the sounds of revelry, is strangely silent
and deserted now. No, not quite deserted ; peace-
ful sheep are unconcernedly feeding within the very
walls where of old noble baron and gallant knight
were wont to feast ; and above, the rooks are hold-
ing high and noisy festival — wheeling in and out
the while of the moss-covered, time-rent, moulderinor
T26 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
edifice. The desolation is, after all, not so great as
it at first appeared. But, for all that, there came
over us a melancholy feeling of untold sadness and
loneliness as we stood there amidst those ancient
ruined walls, the sight of which carried one back in
imagination to the olden days. The long dank
orrass and tanked briars flourished in all the nee-
lected courts and passages. And as we looked
around we sighed for what was not ; we would have
had, just for a few brief moments, the old place
restored to all its glory ; and antique dames with
their quaint costumes, and the brave and courtly
knights, reinhabit the stately halls once more.
The architect of Wingfield Manor, what a genius
was he ! and yet his very name is all unknown, but
his works here tell us what manner of man he was.
Would this nineteenth century could rear such artists !
England, in the golden days {architecturally speak-
ing) of the long ago, produced great men who raised
up glorious edifices, as did their fathers before them,
as many a fine old cathedral, noble abbey, stern
castle, and stately hall remain to tell. They ex-
pressed in their buildings the grandeur of their
minds, and reflected in them the greatness of the
state. How is it we do not produce the like now ?
Is it because we cannot, or is it because we will not ?
Have we not in the present day, in the hurry and
race for mere wealth, in the slavish attempt in
getting the most for our money, killed or lost much
that was noble and great in our ancestors ? Great and
noble buildings must come from great and noble
minds. Ex niJiilo nihil fit. But some may say, w^e
I
OLD-TIME ARCHITECTURE. 127
have erected of late many grand buildings. Well,
they are grand — that is to say, they certainly have
size, but that is all ; their grandeur, however, and
the grandeur of, say, Hatfield House, is a very dif-
ferent thing ; beauty is not their birthright, feeling-
less and cold are they, and dead to arouse one
exalted thought or deed. One old pile, such as
Haddon, or Knole, or Speke Hall, not to mention
any cathedral or abbey, is worth all the rubbish we
have tormented mother earth with for the last two
centuries or so. It appears to me the Common-
wealth effectually killed all art in England.
Such thoughts as these ran through our minds
as we wandered over the picturesque ruins of this
old manor. The building is a picture from wherever
viewed ; it is a poem in stones and mortar, and a
grand poem too, with its mighty buttresses, great
gables, quaintly-shaped windows, ample chimneys,
curious gateways, groined roofs, and commanding
keep — strength and beauty, massiveness and grace,
fortress and palace, in rarest manner combined.
Beneath the banqueting-hall is a grand apart-
ment with a fine groined roof of bold vaulting ribs,
and a twin row of substantial pillars to support it.
This is now all damp and gloomy, dark and eerie ;
our footsteps re-echoed strangely from the solid
walls around and overhead. The effect of lieht and
shade was Rembrandt-like, the dim, misty shadows
falling about in a weird, ghostly manner ; and be-
yond, the background was a mystery of darkness.
It was not a lively spot even on that genial summer
noon, and it took fully five minutes of the bright
128 A DRIVE TITROUGH ENGLAND.
sunshine to lift the gloom of that vault-like chamber
from off our spirits. We were glad to leave it, and
for a thorough change we climbed the old tower,
the steps being still intact and in capital preserva-
tion, and took a look round about upon the glorious
sunlit country that lay beneath our feet.
Wingfield Manor possesses the stereotyped his-
tory of nearly all such similar strongholds. It was
here that one Babington planned a conspiracy for the
liberation of Mary Queen of Scots, who was kept a
prisoner here, which, however, resulted only in the
plotter losing his head, and the unfortunate captive
being more closely watched than ever ; rather a poor
ending for so grand a scheme.
Much as Wingfield Manor has suffered at the
hands of time and Cromwell, those two great de-
stroyers of English castles, yet since the latter's time
the hand of man has wrought more havoc with these
ruins than the storms of long years, or the natural
crumbling process of decay, for they have been used
as a quarry to supply stones to build an ugly house
in the valley. ' To what base uses ' may not even
old castles come !
1 29
CHAPTER IX.
Hardwick Hall— Mines — An Old Distich— A IMany-windowed House
— Bess of Hardwick— A Very Much Married Lady — A Poor Con-
solation Building Bess— An Old Countr)' — Tradition at Fault —
Guide-books and their Writers— An Old-world Home — Interior of
Hardwick — Ancient Furniture — A Bit of the Black Country —
Chesterfield — Our Forefathers and Ourselves — Sheffield — Dis-
agreeable Driving — A Wonderful Town — An Artificial Volcano —
'Far from the Madding Crowd' — A Hill Stream — Landscapes,
Ideal and Real.
From Wingfield Manor we proceeded to another
old-world home, Hardwick Hall, equally as fine as
Wingfield, if not so extensive a building, but re-
taining all its ancient glory, and, unlike the unfor-
tunate manor, not a ruin. On our way we passed
one or two large collieries with their engines busily
at work, surrounded by black heaps of coal and
dross, making hideous dark scars upon the other-
wise fair landscape. They were a sad e)'e-sore to
us, but still out of the very evil some good came —
the gaimt offensiveness of the pits served in some
measure as a foil to enhance the loveliness of
the country around. On arriving at the park of
Hardwick we discovered, close to the gates of the
same, a quaint, old-fashioned-looking hotel, the
first glance of which so pleased us with its quiet
restful look that we at once decided if possible to
spend the night here, in order to wander about this
lovely spot, and make some sketches of the place.
K
I30 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
But romantic-looking though the inn appeared from
the outside, we concluded after an internal survey
we would not venture to sleep there. The appoint-
ments of the place were somewhat rough, and the
rooms they showed us had not at all a comfortable
or an inviting look. It was decidedly a case of the
outside of the cup and platter. The hall is situated
upon a commanding eminence in a well-timbered
park, in which grand old gnarled oaks abound ;
it is a splendid specimen of an old English mansion
raised in that golden age of English domestic archi-
tecture, the Elizabethan period. I'his imposing and
magnificent structure, with its beautiful proportions
and unity of design, cannot but fail to at once strike
and impress the beholder. There is an old distich
which tersely says : —
Hardwicke Hall,
More glass than wall.
And Lord Bacon, when on a visit there, wrote,
' One cannot tell where to become to be out of the
sunne.' Our ancestors, by the way, generally spoke
of their country as ' sunny England.' Truly the
windows of this superb mansion are both numerous
and ample, and as we approached it I shall never
forget the effect of so much glass reflecting in a
thousand tints the sunlight — it was simply gorgeous.
The numerous diamond panes, each glistening on
its own account, formed a glittering whole as of
countless -jewels, in a setting of sombre grey stone-
work. But, in spite of many adverse remarks, I
think the architect knew very well what he was
A WONDERFUL WOMAN. 13T
about when he planned the windows thus ; they are
indeed walls of light. Yet internally we did not feel
they were at all too large ; in judging of the merits
or demerits of these, critics appear to have forgotten
that the large stone mullions, transoms and quar-
relled leaded lights take up a good deal of the space,
and consequently intercept an appreciable amount
of lieht. These windows, it must be remembered,
are not mere square vacant holes in the walls, filled
in with plate-glass which the modern builder so
delighteth in, and which make you feel almost as if
you were sitting out of doors. Having got our
modern plate-glass windows, we at once acknow-
ledge their bareness by hiding them with curtains,
both silk and lace. Plate-glass has many sins to
answer for; like fire, it is a good servant but a bad
master, and it has mastered the modern architect.
Hard wick Hall was erected by the notorious
Elizabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury, known in old
times by the nickname of ' Bess of Hardwicke,' a
wonderful woman in her day and a great favourite
of her masculine namesake Queen Elizabeth. She
was a most imperious and business-like woman, and
had a penchant for matrimony and a perfect mania
for building. She took to herself no less than four
husbands, and in each case the mare was master
(or mistress, whichever is the correct expression) of
the team, the last and most henpecked being the
Earl of Shrewsbury, whose life she made such a
burden to him that he actually complained to the
Queen that he had been reduced to the condition of
a ' pencyoner.' Needless to say he gained nothing
JX2 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
by his unmanly complaints, for we actually find him
writing, in a letter dated April ye 5th, 15S5, to the
famous Earl of Leicester, ' the Oueene hathe taken
the part of my wief, and hathe sette downe this
hard sentence agaynst me, to my perpetual infamy
and dishonour, to be rulled and overaune by her,
so bad and wicked a woman.' The only consola-
tion from his friends he got was from the Bishop of
Lichfield, whose wife he (the bishop) acknowledged
was a ' sharpe and bitter shrewe, yet that if shrewd-
ness or sharpnesse may be a just cause of separa-
cion betweene a man and his wiefe, I thinke fewe
men in Englande woulde keepe their wiefs longe.'
This grand pile of Hardwick was begun in the
year 1576, and finished some time prior to 1600;
it was built of stone quarried from the rock on which
it stands. It may seem strange to call a hoary old
mansion like this, that has existed nearly three
centuries, modern ; but so it was spoken of to us to
distinguish it from the adjacent ruins of the old hall,
which stand mournfully close by. Such a remark
speaks more than volumes of writing possibly could
of the antiquity of our fatherland, of the long and
storied past, leading one in imagination away to the
far-off mystic days of old romance. The stately
English homes of our ancestors are a part and parcel
of the history of a great and noble past. Pic-
turesquely speaking, Hardwick is a perfect building,
as are most of the fine mansions erected in the Eliza-
bethan age. It is national also, and reflects the glories
of the period. With all its grandeur Hardwick is
suggestive of rest and calm and of domestic comfort,
TRADITIONS AT FAULT. 133
all of which combined we may seek for in vain in
any other st)le or any other age of architecture.
Classical work has certainly grandeur enough and
to spare, but it hardly gives to one the idea of being
suitable cither to the home-like life of the sturdy
Englishman or to the English landscape. The style
is not agreeable to England ; it is like a foreigner
abroad, and looks what it is — out of place.
No old English mansion appears to be his-
torically complete without some connection with
the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, and so at
Hardwick there are rooms shown which she is stated
to have occupied when imprisoned there. I had
often wondered whether she had really inhabited
all the many rooms we had been shown in the course
of our numerous journeys, and told she had so done.
One thing is very certain. If she did all the needle-
work attributed to her she must have done nothing
but stitch, stitch, stitch from morning till night all
her life, and which is hardly probable. Unfor-
tunately for tradition in this case, as in many other
similar ones — notably the tiny, and on that account
improbable, room shown in the Eagle Tower ^ at
Carnarvon Castle as the one in which the first
(Saxon) Prince of Wales was born — the respective
buildings were not actually erected till after the
events happened which are said to have taken place
in them. In fact, Hardwick Hall was not com-
menced till after the Scottish queen's execution.
' I am speaking of the Eagle Tower alone, not of the Castle as a
whole, which at that date was, with the exception of the aforesaid
tower, nearly completed.
134 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
Upon entering Hardwick we felt, as the doors
closed upon us, as though we had suddenly stepped
back some three centuries ; the spirit of the past
held us in bondage. The nineteenth century, with
all its bustle and restless activity, its running to and
fro, seemed more a heated imagination of our brain
than an actual reality, so great an impression did
this old-world house make upon us. Hardwick is
a place to dream in ; associations of the past speak
to you from its walls and from all within ; the quaint,
substantial furniture, the Tudor chairs, the ancient
tapestry (some from Beauvais, and bearing date of
1428), the curious cabinets so cunningly carved and
inlaid, the old dark oak panelling, the gleam of the
antique armour upon the same, the old portraits of
past generations in their peculiar and picturesque
costumes and dresses, enclosed in old-fashioned black
frames, are all suggestive of bygone times and
bygone people. I am not about to give a descrip-
tion of the interior of the place and of all we saw
therein. I am not writing a guide-book, nor have I
the sliehtest ambition ever to do so. Indeed, if I
would give particulars of all we saw I could not.
As I have said, Hardwick is a place to dream in,
and we wandered about the old chambers, up and
down the wide staircases and along the numerous
passages and galleries in a delightful visionary state ;
a feeling came over us, that was hard to repress,
even had we so desired, that what we saw was
scarcely real, and ' things were not what they
seemed.' For a brief time we lived in an enchanted
land of romance, and we were in no hurry to wake
AN OLD ENGLISH HOME. 135
out of our trance. Why should wc be? We took
away with us a delicious memory, a dreamy impres-
sion of this grand old-world home, a precious recol-
lection that was ours for ever. For long afterwards
Hardwick haunted us ; we live in the hope of some
day going over once again that glorious old relic of
the past, to renew our dreamy wanderings over its
tapestried chambers, its courts and halls. An old
home like this — lived in and kept up as it was in
our great forefathers' time, of glorious memory — is
a priceless treasure.
I have seen
Old houses where the men of former time
Have hved and died, so wantonly destroyed
By their descendants, that a place like this;
Preserved with pious care, but not ' restored '
By rude presumptuous hands, nor modernised
To suit convenience, seems a precious thing.
The view from the hall is very fine ; hill and dale,
wooded height beyond wooded height stretch far
away, green at first, then in the middle distance grey,
fading as they recede into hazy blue, till at last
their outlines vaguely mingle with the sky — a wide,
boundless expanse, over which the eye wanders in
delightful freedom. But mingled with so much
beauty, it must be confessed, here and there the tall
chimneys and the uprising smoke of busy collieries
proclaim themselves ; though they cannot be said
to actually spoil the landscape, still they strike a
chord not in harmony with the scene. We felt it
hard to tear ourselves away from this entrancing
spot ; nature, art, and time have all done their best
to beautify, mellow, and hallow it, and for an excuse
136 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
to lineer a little lonofer there we wandered about the
ancient gardens, full of bright and sweet old-fashioned
flowers. But the time came at last for us to take
our departure, and we took one long farewell glance
at the hoary old pile whose v^^alls were all tinted and
gilded by the slanting rays of the sun, its numerous
Avindows, flashing back the golden light, appearing
like so many mighty yellow diamonds. Farewell,
Hardwick, it was a glorious good-bye you bade us !
Farewell, thou dear relic of bygone days ! May
nothing ever deprive thee of thy old-world calmness ;
may no modern innovations ever jar upon thy de-
lightful, restful harmony !
From Hardwick we drove to Sheffield, passing
through Chesterfield en roiitc. Places better calcu-
lated there could not be to rudely awaken us out
of our delightful dreams of legends and romance.
Chesterfield soon took all the poetry out of us ;
the present — ugly, common-place present — weighed
heavily upon our souls. We felt depressed, and a
sudden sadness came over us. From the golden
glories of romantic Hardwick to the blackness and
dirt of Chesterfield was a dreadful descent. The
contrast caused the meanness of our times to come
upon us with double force.
We reached Sheffield late that evening, and we
left it early — very early — the next morning. So we
did not see much of the town ; but what little we
saw more than sufficed us. The transition from the
pure, fresh, fragrant country air to that which does
duty for an atmosphere in this town of blackness
was too much for us ; we felt we could scarcely
THE CAPITAL OF SMOKE. 137
breathe. It had been rainin^r before we arrived.
The wet by no means improved the look of things.
The fine golden sunset showed a wan, pale yellow
through the smoke ; the wet streets reflected this
hue, and that was all the colour there was. All the
rest was a homogeneous, pitiful, cheerless grey, save
where here and there a vivid ray of fervid, glowing
red was momentarily thrown out from some furnace
across the road. The damp air held the smoke
in bondage. It seemed not like ordinary smoke ;
it absolutely refused to rise. The tall chimneys
belched forth dark clouds of matter more resembling
black tow than anything else earthly, a something
that would not ascend but that hung over the town
like a mighty pall. Fortunately, ugly as it is, what
with the smoke and fog and narrow winding streets,
you cannot see much of Sheffield at a time. Your
feelings are so far spared, your view is decidedl)'
limited, and it is a o-ood thinL{ it is.
What a drive we had into the town ! The streets
were certainly narrow enough (and crooked enough)
without huge tramcars monopolizing the best of the
way. Nor was there any reason, as far as we could
discover, why the people should elect to walk along
the roads instead of on the foot-pavement. We had
one or two narrow shaves with large trucks and
trollies laden with iron and manufactured eoods,
which were driven along anyhow and at a reckless
pace. The hissing of steam on all sides, the din of
countless hammers, the screeching of revolvin-'-
saws cutting through solid iron plates, the roar of
blast furnaces, the crash, crash, thump, thumj) of
138 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
moving machinery, the grating sound of grinding
wheels everywhere busily at work, made the place
appear to us as we drove along like a perfect Pan-
demonium. It was very evident we had no business
there ; it was not a place after our own heart. We had
simply fixed on the spot in the hurry of the moment
as a convenient stage, with a vague idea that it
might perhaps interest us. And now, before we had
even reached our hotel, we had told our man to be
prepared to start early in the morning, wet or fine
— aye, even though it were a thunderstorm. The
height of our present desire was to get out of all
this smoke, sulphurous vapours, everlasting whirl
and noise, and oppressive gloom, right away once
more into the green, sunlit country. Have I drawn
the picture too black ? Very possibly ; but I have
simply painted it as we felt it. But in case my
remarks may be deemed prejudiced or strained to
the utmost, let me quote the description of this town
by Charles Reade : — ' Hillsborough' (Sheffield being
understood), * though built on one of the loveliest
sites in England, is perhaps the most hideous town
in creation. The city bristles with high round
chimneys. They defy the law, and belch forth
massive volumes of black smoke that hang like acres
of crape over the place, and veil the sun and the
blue sky even on the brightest day. More than one
crystal stream runs sparkling down the valley and
enters the town ; but they soon get defiled and creep
through it heavily charged with nastiness, clogged
with putridity and bubbling with poisonous gases, till
at last they turn to mere ink, stink, and malaria,
SHEFFIELD. 139
and people the churchyards as they crawl. This
infernal cit)', whose water is blacking and whose air
is coal, lies in a basin of delight and beauty : noble
slopes, broad valleys watered by rivers and brooks of
singular beauty, and fringed by fair woods.' After
this my description reads tame, and I can scarcely
be accused of being too severe.
But with all its blackness and smoke Sheffield is
a wonderful town. Are you travelling by rail in
far-off India, America, Australia, &c. ? If so, the
chances are you are rolling over Sheffield rails.
Wherever you may eat your dinner Sheffield cutlery
is probably at your side. Are you voyaging in one
of the splendid modern mail steamers ? Sheffield
almost certainly provided the plates for the same.
Are you watching the ingathering of the harvest in
some foreign country .'* The scythes employed, it is
a hundred to one, came from Sheffield ; and so this
town follows you everywhere.
Though such a gruesome place, Sheffield is sur-
rounded by a most glorious moorland country ; and
when, next day, we had reached the breezy uplands,
we felt joyous and light-hearted once more ; only a
feeling of jjity remained for those whom fate or
necessity compelled to live In such a spot. Were I
a poor man I would rather live upon the proverbial
crust of bread and cheese, and breathe the whole-
some country air and have its ever-varying beauties
around me, than I would feast in such a capital of
blackness.
We began to mount at once on leaving the town,
and at the top of the hill we pulled up and turned
I40 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
round to inspect the scene. Surrounded by an
amphitheatre of hills, in the hollow formed by them,
again we saw Sheffield (or rather the spot where
the town was, for the noisome vapour most effec-
tually hid all the buildings) sending up volumes of
lurid smoke, and flames from its furnaces showed
now and again. It was as though we were looking
down upon the gigantic crater of some mighty
volcano, and that was our last view of the famous
town. We could not but help feeling what a beau-
tiful spot Sheffield would be if only Sheffield were
not there ; or, if that is too Irish a way of putting it,
what a beautiful country it must have been before
the once rural village became the metropolis of coal
and iron.
' Far from the madding crowd ' once more — and
a very madding crowd we thought it — how doubly
peaceful and quiet seemed the country ! By quiet I
do not mean silence — far from it ; for upon the
balmy summer breezes came to us many and
frequent rural sounds ; but the sounds were restful
ones, and were, indeed, necessary to emphasize the
silence. Around us was a mingled harmony — a
humming of wandering bees and a buzzing of many
insects ; the winds wooing the branches of the trees
overhead made a soothing rusding — a peculiar mur-
muring indescribable in words. Strangely enough,
though there were several in sight, we had no bird
music, generally everywhere in England so plen-
tiful and delightful. This was a mystery to us.
From afar off came, in a melodious blending, the
bleating of sheep upon the distant moors, together
./ ll'AYS/DE BURN. 141
with the dreamy tinkling of their bells from the low-
land pasturages Also came to us every now and
ao'ain the lowinor of the kine and the shoutino- of thi:;
shepherd to liis dog, and close at hand a little burn,
half hidden by ferns, babbled and chattered in a
never-ending manner,
Making sweet music with th' enamelled stones,
as it prattled along its pebbly bed, threading its way
among a mass of mossy rocks. It came down
straight from the heathery moorlands, channelling
its way down the hill-side till it joined the river in
the vale beneath and was lost in the Pfolden flood
below. It was a coy and shy streamlet, one that
had to be sought after ; its beauties were not for
the vulgar crowd. But we knew where to look ; it
could not hide itself from us, and we cauofht here
and there the silvery gleam of its waters through an
intricacy of leaves and of bracken and of tangled
briars. So reposeful was the scene, so opposed to
the dinsome city's turmoil, that we could not resist
the temptation to dismount, and, sitting upon an old
grey lichen-stained rock by the side of the little
stream, we were almost hushed to sleep by its
lullaby. Is there anything in nature, I wonder, so
restful as the music of falling water ? Around us
were flowers and ferns, and gaudy dragon and gay
butterflies passed and repassed us. On the banks
above some wild thyme made the air fragrant with
its refreshing perfume, and through ihe woods we
caught glinipses of the tlistant sunlit country ; the
hillsides were all loathed in soft sunshine, the Liolden
142 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
light playing about their russet-green slopes, the
passing clouds causing shadows to chase each other
across them. Beyond these, stretching far away,
were the grey and purple moorlands, a moment
dark and sombre as a trail of shadow passed over
them, and anon they were all a purple glory as
a gleam of sunshine traversed their heather-clad
tops.
We were amused, too, by watching a squirrel,
who, startled at our first appearance, came halfway
down his tree to investigate us, and as we did not
prove so very dreadful in his eyes, and kept quiet,
he took heart of grace and came altogether down,
and wandered about the ground evidently in search
of nuts, and in time he came so close to us we
could almost have touched him. Then he eot hold
of what appeared to be a young chestnut, and taking
it in his forepaws he sat gravely down in front of
us and enjoyed his meal, and at last, when he had
quite finished it (it took him nearly ten minutes), and
not before, he went his way and we went ours, A
trifling incident not worth relating, perhaps you will
say, but it is just all these inconsidered trifles that
go to make up the many and varying interests of
each day in the country, and in inanimate nature,
as well from the lowly, simple daisy so often trod
under foot, to the mighty, storm-rent mountain, there
is endless matter for food and delight to the true
lover of nature. To him no yard of the country is
or could be dull, no spot without its special beauties
and charms. A lonely moorland (perhaps the most
desolate scenery we have) is not a desolate or
./ FINE LANDSCAPE. 143
dreary spot to him who has eyes to use and knows
how to employ them.
Our road to-day passed through the Wharnchffe
woods and close to Wharncliffe Lodge, the view
from which spot is both very extensive and beautiful.
Lady Montagu, writing of Avignon, and speaking
of the landscape there as viewed from the castle-
crowned heights of the popes, said it was ' the most
lovely land prospect she ever saw except that from
Wharncliffe.' After this remark, perhaps I had
better say nothing ; I might write pages without
doing justice to the panorama. The imagination
can often paint, when left free to itself (or only a
brief outline supplied), far finer landscapes than the
pen can portray. If only sometimes we could turn
imagination into reality, the conception of the poet-
artist into a real living landscape, what a beautiful
world this would be !
144 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
CHAPTER X.
Penistone — A Desolate Village — A Hunt for the Landlord — A Cheer-
less Country — A Vast Solitude — A Sea of Moors — Mountain and
Moorland Air — Huddersfield — Nature's Recreation Grounds — A
Country of Towns — Sunshine and Shower — Halifax — Travellers'
Tales — Gibbet Law — A Thieves' Litany — A Steep Road — Wreath-
ing Mists — Difficult Steering — A Hailstorm — A Purple Sea —
Curious Boulders — A Sphinx — Keighley — Skipton Town and Castle
— The Shepherd Lord — Changing Scenery — An al fresco Lunch — -
Settle — An Ebbing and Flowing Well — Unfortunate Tourists^-
Clapham — Pine Forests.
Our mid-day halt was at Penistone, a desolate
village situated high up in the world and surrounded
by dreary moorlands. Here we found an inn almost
as desolate as the place itself. We drove up to
what appeared to be the principal doorway of this
forsaken hotel, but could discover no one about.
Then we entered the stable-yard and sought for the
ostler, but there was nobody visible. Presently,
however, we managed to unearth the landlord from
out of some outbuildings, where he was amusing
himself chopping up wood, or with some such occu-
pation. He appeared exceedingly surprised to see
us, for he said they never did any business or had
any visitors except on one day a week (Thursday
I think he said), which was a market day. In the
evenings he had a few customers, inhabitants of the
place, who dropped in for their pipe and glass and a
chat, and that was all. Moreover, he said, no one
A BLEAK COUNTRY. t45
now travelled by road if they could help it in these
parts, as they (the roads) were very desolate and
hilly ; therefore, there was some excuse for his look
of astonishment in seeing us with a phaeton and
pair in cool possession of his deserted stable-)ard.
When, however, he had recovered from his surprise
and comprehended the situation, he at once set to
work to help us and to offer us what hospitalities
the limited resources of his inn could afford. He
showed us into a barely-furnished room, and a
scrubby-looking servant appeared in due course ;
and eventually we procured a rough-and-ready meal,
which, however, our long drive through the bracing
air caused us to appreciate more than we otherwise
should.
The country round about Penistone is of the
most wild and cheerless description ; bleak, barren
moorlands succeed one another in a confused, chaotic
outline, swept unrestrained by the winds of heaven.
What a spot this must be in the winter time, when
the north-easter is raging unchecked in its fury,
and the snowstorm drives across this wild tract in
unabated vigour. The traveller who ventured by
road in such times might almost as well be tra-
versing the wilds of Siberia ; he could hardly be
worse off Even now in midsummer — warm as it
was on the lower ground— it was quite cool up here,
too much so indeed for our enjoyment ; in fact we
wondered if it could ever be really warm in this
elevated region. Immediately around the villao-e
small quantities of land have been tilled, and a brave
attempt has been made to bring it undcT culti\ation ;
146 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
some few crops make a desperate struggle for exist-
ence, as we had evidence by their stunted growth.
We judged, however, the only thing Penistone could
boast of in perfection was the air, of which there
was certainly an unlimited supply, of the purest and
most bracing quality. Anyhow, the land about is
hardly of that class ' that you tickle with a plough
and it laughs at you with a harvest.'
In the afternoon we proceeded on our way. Our
road now became very wild, traversing as it did the
bleak, peaty, swampy moorlands. We had nothing
but a vast expanse of barren land around and a grey
clouded sky overhead ; the intense loneliness and
stillness of this far-reaching solitude was almost
depressing. There was hardly a sign of life ; not
a solitary sheep, not even a wandering bird did we
see, only once a startled grouse flew past us with a
sudden whirr-r-r, and that was all. But in spite of
the loneliness we mightily enjoyed the drive. The
air was most exhilarating and bracing, and it sent
the blood coursing through our veins, infusing new
life into our bodies. Moorland air is a sort of
natural champagne, only there is this difference in
it — you may indulge in any amount of it without the
fear of after consequences, save an alarming appetite.
By degrees we discovered the moors were not
so barren or monotonous after all. Heather and
gorse in bloom were visible here and there, and
bright yellow mosses and bilberry plants flourished
everywhere, with their delicate green leaves and
purple wine-stained fruit ; and now and again a
damp rock or a peaty pool, as it caught the light,
THE COLOURS OF THE MOORS. 147
shone out brij^ditly from the dark ^doom around.
The varyinf,^ tones and colours of this vast undu-
latino' sea of moors were a study in themselves —
sombre in places, rich in others, and actually ^^ay
where the glinting sunlight caught the bright yellow
of the gorse and the glorious purple of the heather.
No one can say the moors are colourless or melan-
choly who has studied or observed them much.
What had appeared to us at first all cheerless and
Moomy, upon closer acquaintance we found exulted
in a thousand hues ; the colouring was low in tone
certainly, as suited the scene, but it was by no means
wanting in subdued harmonies, which latter are
always more pleasing to the educated eye than
severe contrasts, though perhaps not at first so
telling. At the same time, from the brightness of
the heather and gorse to the powerful darkness of
the peaty soil, the range of colour and light and
shade were by no means limited.
Our road was an ambitious one. Higher and
higher it ascended, till it appeared we were surely
approaching the end of the world, and that when
we reached the summit of the far-stretching moor —
away yonder where it seemed to join the sky — we
should simply look over into space ; but when at
last that height was gained, we found the world
extended many a league beyond. Before us was a
prospect that involuntarily called forth our admira-
tion. iMrst came russet moors, then dark blue hills
beyond hills, the more distant ones being lost in a
dreamy dimness or hidden by a veil of low-lying
clouds that stretched across the horizon. There
I. 2
148 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
was just a suspicion of a warm yellow in the West,
where the sun was sinking low, and a corresponding
tint from sundry pools in the near foreground — which
shone forth like burnished gold — lighting up the
landscape as the eye does the human face. Down,
far down in the valley were woods and villages
mingled together in a shadowy indistinctness, and
mists, too, were gathering in the hollows and were
gradually creeping up the hillsides ; and winding
away below us we could trace our road for miles — a
trail of light grey till lost in a mystery of haze and
eloom in the distant dale. Down the hill we went
at a famous pace, the leather of the brakes being
almost worn away in the rapid run. How delightful
was the swift, easy motion through the light, invi-
gorating air ! — we had in our drive a perfect atmo-
spheric bath. Fresh mountain or moorland air
excels all other tonics, and it is the most lasting in
its effects. Dame Nature is the best and pleasan test
of doctors, and in the end the least expensive, only,
alas ! too often we do not consult her in time.
Huddersfield, our night's destination, was reached
at a late hour, and here we found a capital hotel and
excellent 'accommodation for man and beast,' and
the mankind took the opportunity of indulging in a
good dinner, which, being well cooked, and washed
down by some sound, if not expensive, wine, was
fully appreciated after the long and appetizing drive.
As we drove into the town, we could not help con-
trasting the busy life and glare of the city with the
silent and lonely expanse of moorland we had so
recently left behind. These spacious solitudes —
UNSETTLED WEATHER. 149
Nature's read)- made recreation grounds — are so near
the teeming hives of modern industries, and yet so
far ; within a drive, a walk even for the stout pedes-
trian, and yet trod by few.
Huddersfield is a stone built town, and, after the
blackness of Sheffield, appeared to us a remarkably
clean one, although a large manufacturing place.
Woollen and cloth mills are superior to coal and
iron works in point of cleanliness.
The next moniing turned out wet — a regular
drencher — and it was not till the afternoon it cleared
up sufficiently to enable us to start. For a time
the grey leaden clouds parted, and patches of bright
blue sky showed themselves, and gleams of sunshine
came and went in a ntful manner. The weather was
not much to boast of, but it did not actually rain ;
and, as we w^ere tired of Huddersfield, we deter-
mined, upon the first suspicion of sunshine, to start.
We were now in a country abounding on all
sides with busy towns ; this part of Yorkshire is
well supplied with coal fields, and where the coal
is there do the manufacturers congregate. Our
map was dotted all over with the names of various
factory towns more or less noted, and, go which way
we would, we could not escape them, so we selected
the road that led in the most direct line throuijh
this industrious district, that we might have as little
ugliness as possible. The road on to Halifax was
a very hilly one, and not devoid of beauty, though
some of the villages on the way were spoilt by
having large mills erected in their midst, which
quite dwarfed the rest of tlu' Iniildings in the place.
I50 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
and looked sadly out of place with their surround-
ings. We had a wet drive ; no sooner had we
fairly started than it recommenced to rain ; patter,
patter, patter, it began gently at first, then it com-
menced to pit, pit, pit, in a spiteful manner, and
then came a deluge, and presently the clouds would
clear up for a time, and a burst of bright sunshine
would reveal a thousand hidden beauties : the white
rills running down the hillsides, masses of rock of
every hue, tinged with mosses and lichens ; tender
green glassy slopes, with dark purple crags above ;
streams fringed with ferns and water-plants ; old
grey walls and cottages, and the thousand leaves of
trees and grasses, all gleaming and reflecting the
momentary brightness. We had hardly time to
observe and admire all these, when the preliminary
patter, patter, patter, would recommence, and the
whole scene would be blotted out by the envious,
weeping rain ; only a world of grey was before us,
with slanting lines of light.
We were glad to arrive at Halifax, and drew up
at the first hotel we noticed. It chanced to be a
large limited-liability affair, with huge, comfortless
rooms, and a general cheerless appearance. In the
coffee-room there was only one or so of the
several gas-burners lighted ; the rest of the chamber
was therefore left in a depressing gloom. At our
table we were joined by a stout, jolly, ruddy-faced
individual, and a very talkative one withal. We
were puzzled as to whom or what he could possibly
be ; eventually it turned out he was a commercial
traveller, who had been shown into the coffee-room
TALES OF A COMMERCIAL TRAVELLER. 151
for some reason or another. He proved to be a
great character, and amused us considerably with
his endless stories and numerous anecdotes, of which
he appeared to have an inexhaustible sup[)ly, and at
which he laughed himself most heartily ; to have
heard him, one would have imagined a commercial
traveller's life was the one above all others in this
world to be desired. There are some fortunate
men whose spirits nothing appears able to damp ;
men who always somehow manage to see the bright
side of life, even when others perceive only dark
shadows around, and who would seem to be born
to thoroughly enjoy life, happen what may, and
whatever their lot. Of such was our commercial
traveller. Whether all the good stories he told
were true, or even founded on fact, would, to say
the least, be doubtful ; probably our jovial enter-
tainer had picked them up from one source and
another, and had altered, added to, and improved
upon the originals ; anyhow, they certainly were
above the ordinary average of such stories, and
helped to pass the time away.
Halifax used, with Hull, to have the reputation,
in the old pre-police times, of possessing a most strict
criminal law — Gibbet Law, as it was briefly called,
and which niay be epitomized as follows : Should a
felon be taken with stolen goods within the libert)'
of the said city, 'either hand-habend, back-berand,
or confessand any commodity of the value of thir-
teenpence-halfpenny,' he was, when duly condemned,
after the space of three market da)s, to be taken to
the gibbet. Upon the three market days he was
152 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
meanwhile publicly exposed in the stocks, with the
stolen goods at his back, as a warning to other
thieves, and a broad hint to honest people to con-
tinue honest. The strictness of the law here doubt-
less originated the saying amongst the tramps and
vagabonds of the period, ' From Hell, Hull, and
Halifax, good Lord, deliver us ! '
Out of Halifax, our road mounted with a ven-
geance ; it could hardly have been steeper, we
thought, without being perpendicular ; it was severe
collar-work for some miles for the horses. As we
ascended, the scenery became more and more barren,
till at last we emerged upon the summit of a far-
stretching, boulder-strewn moorland, with ruined
cliffs or tors boldly projecting here and there,
jagged and weather-beaten into rugged pinnacles.
At the foot of these savage crags lay heaps of rocks
and stones — splintered ruins from the heights above
the work of winter frosts and summer storms.
It was fine when we started, with large white clouds
sailing over a sea of purest blue, but during the
nip-ht the barometer had fallen considerably, so we
felt by no means certain what the future might have
in store for us, as far as the weather was concerned.
We had reached, as it were, a huge mountain-top,
extending for miles in every direction ; around there
were distant views of russet and dark grey moor
lands, rising ridge beyond ridge, but none, ap-
parently, of greater elevation than ours. The air
was cold and fresh, and came to us in sudden gusts,
and large mist-wreaths curled in and out of the
crested acclivities that rose so suddenly and strangely
CLOUDS AND MISTS. 153
from the moors ; they twisted In and out of the riven
and storm-rent craj^s in a most fantastic manner.
Now and again a mass of this white vapour would
^et free from its entanglements and sail, silently and
ghostlike, away into space — a long line of white —
till caught prisoner again by other heights, there to
condense its substance and be no more. It was a
wonderful sight, these mists playing at hide-and-seek
amongst the stern, dark cliffs. So intent were we
watchinof their strani^e movements, that we did not
notice, till it was right upon us, a mighty cloud, like
a mass of cotton-wool, that came sweeping along ;
this quickly enveloped us, and we were all at once
in a damp, grey gloom — a wetting Scotch mist ; gone
was all the bright sunshine, not a yard ahead could
we see, and we had to feel our way along as best we
could. The road was none of the best, and it was
by no means an easy feat to keep upon it. Whilst
we were wondering how long this state of affairs was
going to last, lo ! as suddenly as they came, the
clouds cleared away, and we were once again rejoicino-
in the glad, if not warm, sunlight, and great was the
contrast ; our cloud went rolling northwards away,
but it left behind it drops of moisture on every twig
of heather and blade of grass, beads of crystal that
gleamed and sparkled in the sun, as though the
moor had been strewn with jewels.
There is a well-known proverb that says, ' It is
as well not to halloo till you are out of the wood,'
and this certainly applied to ourselves, for as we
were congratulating each other on having escaped
so easily from a regular wetting which at one time
154 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
appeared extremely probable, suddenly a something
struck our faces and stung us for a moment ; this
was quickly repeated, and the horses became res-
tive, and without further notice we found ourselves
in the heart of a pitiless hailstorm. We caught it
fairly ; there was no shelter to make for, so we had
to brave it out. The wind now increased to a gale
and whistled eerily amongst the rocks and boulders ;
it dandled in a merciless manner the frozen rain
against ourselves and our horses, causing the latter
to become almost unmanageable. The storm was
of short duration, and having done its best mean-
while to make us discontented and miserable, and
having ignominiously failed, it left us and spent its
fury somewhere else. Once more the treacherous
weather promised fair things, the sun was shining
as merrily forth as though no such thing as a storm-
cloud had ever dimmed its face, but we felt no confi-
dence in its bright promises. How suddenly the storms
arise on these bleak uplands only those who have had
experience of them can understand. These heights
are great cloud-catchers, and very effectively distil
the moisture from the aqueous vapours. One minute
the sky will be a pure azure flecked only with the
lightest summer clouds, and all looking peaceful
and serene; then suddenly comes a driving mist,
followed it may be by threatening forms, and before
you have time to consider them you are in the
midst of a downpour, a steady, business-like deluge
that seems as though it meant to last for days ; and
just when you have made up your mind such will
be the case, they suddenly break away, swept along
ON THE MOORS. 155
by the uiiicstraincd wind, and Nature is all smiles
once more. Only some innocent-looking clouds
bound your prospect, between which and yourself
spreads out a broad, unshadowed world, but )ou
know not what these innocent vapours may bring
forth ; beautiful in form and colour they are with
the sun glinting upon them, their light and shade
effects are full of a very changing loveliness, and
they may be as harmless as they look, or the very
reverse. And how clear after a rain storm does not
the atmosphere so high up appear ! The blue of the
sky overhead is intense, deep, and full ; the air is so
pure, and light, and bright ; swept as it is by the
hurrying winds from all impurities, no grey haze
can collect there, there is no veil of anything be-
tween you and the heavens above. And as for the
colours of the moors, the clearness of the air, and
the moisture, produce such a glory and wealth of
glowing tints that no artist, however skilful, could
possibly reproduce them ; they must be seen to be
realised.
As we continued on our way the land around
became more level, a monotonous, elevated plain
broken only here and there by massive boulders,
some moss and lichen laden, others barren and
rugged, nearly all wrought into strange forms by
the denudation powers of frosts and endless storms.
Each particular rock appeared to possess some pecu-
liar resemblance to something earthly or unearthly,
to the uncouth animals of the prehistoric times, or
those still more horrible creations of a nightmare —
they were, in fact, nightmares embodied in stone.
156 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
Spectral and solemn did they look, standing silently
up as they have stood for centuries, bleached and
scarred and storm-rent, mighty monuments of a dead
world. One especially impressed me, an almost per-
fect Sphinx, looking grimly and gravely down upon
us, an inscrutable and mysterious form with leering
eyes, over-arched with ancient mosses, and possess-
ing a grotesque mouth and an impossible nose, and
whose unkempt hair of rank grasses, tossed about
in a weird manner by the wind, gave it an unnatural,
life-like appearance. Another upright boulder we
passed near to had the form of a giant's face, with
a sadly battered nose ; another, afar off, looked for
_all the world like an old Mother Hubbard, hat
and cloak and all ; in fact, almost each one of these
curiously formed rocks conjured up to us some form
or another, though we did not always agree upon
the likeness.
At last, and none too soon, our road began to
descend ; presently we passed some quarries, the
first sign of human agency, save the rough track
we had travelled over, we had seen for a long
while. The descent was steep and rough, and we
were pleased when it ended and we found ourselves
in the small though bus ding town of Keighley, a
town of mills and tall chimneys, but from its streets
peeps of distant hills and moors were everywhere
visible, taking the thoughts away from the common-
place surroundings of the spot. The situation of
Keighley (Keithley the natives pronounce it) is very
fine, and, were the manufactories away, it would be
really a picturesque place. Here we rested awhile
THE SHEPHERD LORD. 157
and baited our Iiorses, and late in the afternoon pro-
ceeded on to the ancient town of Skipton, some
nine miles distant. Skipton, like Keii^hley, is beauti-
fully situated in a pleasant mountain-g^irt vale, through
which the sparkling river Aire flows ; it is generally
known by the title of the capital of Craven, a dale
of great beauty and famous for its scenery, which,
indeed, has been called 'a terrestrial paradise.'
Skipton is one of those small towns that has, in the
stormy ages gone by, grown up under the shelter
and protection of the feudal castle, and the history
of the town is the history of the castle, and the his-
tory of the castle is the history of the Cliffords, an
all powerful family at one time in these parts. In the
reign of Edward IV., however, the estates of the then
Lord of Skipton were forfeited for high treason, and
the youthful son and heir to the same, to escape the
consequences of his father's deeds, lived for twenty-
five years a shepherd's life, concealed among the
hills of Cumberland. This unfortunate boy was
known by the title of the Shepherd Lord, and his
wanderings have been a favourite theme with the
poets, and especially with Wordsworth. Eventually
King Henry VII. restored the estates to the wan-
derer, and moreover created him Earl of Cumber-
land. At the advanced age of sixty, the Earl, at
the head of his retainers, fought valiantly for his
sovereign at the Battle of Flodden Field. In this
stronghold was born the celebrated Anne Clifford,
Countess of Dorset, Pembroke, and Montgomer)-,
that famous restorer of castles, and amontrst others
this one ol Skipton. as an inscription over the
158 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
doorway shows, was repaired by her after havinf^
been dismanded by order of the Parhament. Her
daughter inherited the estate, and married one
John Tufton, Earl of Thanet, in whose family it
still remains. Over the gateway of the castle still
exists the crest and shield of arms of the Cliffords,
with the motto ' Desormais ' carved in stone.
We awoke next day to a glorious morning, a
morning of bright sunshine and blue sky, across
which latter violet-coloured clouds were scudding
merrily. We had now, for a change, a more level
country to traverse ; and with the altered character
of our road the scenery varied also. We were driving
along the foot of the hills instead of over their sum-
mits. A pleasant country it was, with leafy woods ;
green slopes, leading up to picturesque heights ; fer-
tile meadows, with flowers abounding, we had to
feast our eyes upon. Very rich and refreshing all
these appeared after the wild, uncultivated moor-
lands, and the change of scene was very welcome.
Roads are characteristic as well as men ; some have
a wild, forbidding look, such as those we have lately
passed over, others are eminently homelike and
companionable ; of the latter class was ours that day.
It was just the sort of road to loiter along, and we
loitered. Every turn revealed some new beauties,
some fresh combination of hills and woods, rocks and
water, all of which afforded us a perpetual succession
of the most charming pictures. The Aire Valley is
certainly a very lovely one ; but presently we left
the bright little stream which flows alono- it — it had
grown smaller all the way, as it ncared its lone home
A RESTFUL RETREAT. 159
ill the wild mountain fastnesses. When we bade it
farewell it could only be called a river by courtesy —
and much we missed its pleasant company.
The merry singing of birds, the bleating of sheep,
the buzzing of insects making the most of their brief
life, the rustling of the leaves of many trees, and the
([uiet music of the running water, were sounds that
came quite anew to us after our bleak drives of the
last two days. By contrast, the present scenery was
feminine, soft, and beautiful ; that of the moors mas-
culine, rugged, and stern. All around us was peace
and tranquil loveliness, nothing spoke of the harsher
side of nature ; the change from one class of scenery
to another only makes the wanderer appreciate and
enjoy both the more. We camped out at one inviting
spot, evidently a place specially designed by Nature
for such a purpose. It was upon a stretch of mossy
sward, with a fallen tree that afforded us both seats
and a table ; we were well sheltered by some over-
hanging trees, through the interlacing branches of
which the simlight played, forming moving patterns
of gold and green around us. It was a retired,
secluded resting-place, the very spot for a weary
pilgrim — and were we not on a pilgrimage, and were
we not weary too ? Down through the trees across
the road we watched the shinino- river, olistenino- and
gleaming like molten silver, and ever and anon we
caught the brilliant flashes of its ripples, like dia-
monds in the light. The woods beyond were all
aglow in the golden sunshine ; yellow and green and
grey changing inconstantly as the summer breezes
touched them as they passed by ; and fiu'ther, again,
t6o a drive through ENGLAND.
the purple hills stretched dreamily away, till all but
lost in the tender blue of the sky above. A drowsy
wind, a warm, soft air came to us now and again
laden with the fragrance of the woods and fields ;
and as it toyed with the leaves overhead, setting
them for the time dancing and quivering without
swaying the branches, it caused a twinkling of sun
spots on the ground below. Soft and full of repose
was the scene, the sunlight sleeping on all around ;
it was pleasant to look out from our shady retreat
upon such a fair prospect, the hazy, ascending wave-
lines of heat making us doubly appreciate our cool,
green resting-place. We felt in no mood to hurry
away ; why should we ? So we amused ourselves by
making a bouquet of wild flowers that, with many
sorts of ferns, grew in profusion around.
Peaceful as the country looked now, it must have
borne a very different aspect in the year 1150, for
we are told at that date in this district of Craven,
' the deer, the wild boar, and white bull were wan-
dering in its unfrequented woods, or wading in its
untainted waters, or roaming over its unbounded
heaths.' Even now (however much the dales may
have changed) the wild wastes of uplands and moors
remain the same. Man has civilized the country,
only the moors he has not tamed ; they alone are
changeless and untameable.
We loitered so long on our way that it was late
ere we came in sight of Settle, our night's destina-
tion ; there in front of us lay the sleepy little town,
almost hidden in the shade caused by a huge moun-
tain cliff of limestone (part of the Craven vault) that
SUNSET EFFECT. 16 1
almost overhangs the place. In the West, behind
the dark-wooded hills, the sun was settin.L^ amid a
glory of ruby and golden clouds, and the summits of
the cliffs were lighted up with brilliant touches of
orange and bright yellow ; the valley and the woods
beyond were half obscured in a deep shade of purple,
from which the smoke of the town ascended a cool
blue-grey, till higher up it caught the sunset's tints
and mingled in the glow of the sky. One fact
struck us during our travels — namely, that beautiful
sunsets are by no means things of rare occurrence ;
at least one day in three we rejoiced in such fine
evenine effects. At Setde we found a small inn,
comfortable enough to a certain extent, but our little
sitting-room there, it must be confessed, was close
and stuffy to the last degree ; however, we opened
the casement windows wide, which improved matters,
and which also gave us a romantic view of the town,
half hidden and half revealed by the pale ra)s of the
moon.
Next morning we discovered there was a large,
airy, and pleasant coffee-room downstairs, incom-
parably superior to our poky chamber upstairs ; we
found out also that the reason why we were shown
to the sitting-room was simply in order that the land-
lord might, by making an extra charge for the same,
add so much on to his bill ; a favourite arrangement,
as we learnt by experience, of landlords in general,
and one profitable to themselves if not so pleasing
to their guests. Upon this discovery we were wroth.
It was not pleasant to think we had been obliged to
endure a tiny, unventilated, unused room, when there
M
1 62 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
was a large, cheerful apartment at hand all the time
unoccupied ; and moreover, it was not agreeable to
have to pay extra for the luxury of being uncom-
fortable. They say John Bull is an inveterate
grumbler ; how that may be I cannot say, I know
we grumbled at our treatment when we left the hotel,
and not without reason.
Out of Settle we had a long and stiff ascent, and
our road gave promise of bringing us to fine scenery.
There were dark blue outhnes of mountains ahead,
standing out clearly and boldly defined against the
light blue sky and suggestive of savage grandeur.
Shortly after leaving Settle we came to Giggleswick
{cjtiel nom !), which is a small village situated amidst
grand surroundings, and renowned, locally at least,
for a certain famous ebbing and flowing well :
Thence to Giggleswick most steril,
Hem'd with shelves and rocks of peril.
Near to th' way, as a traveller goes,
A fine fresh stream both ebbs and flows.
This remarkable natural curiosity has been noted by
many writers, and especially by Drayton, in a song
commencing
At Giggleswick, where I a fountain can you show
That eight times in a day is said to ebb and flow.^
We were, however, informed that the working of the
spring was most uncertain : sometimes it came and
went several times within an hour ; at others, it
might remain a whole day without change. It ap-
peared we must have arrived the wrong day, which
was a pity ; anyhow, we waited patiently, or rather
1 Folyolbion, Song XXVIII.
LIMESTONE CLIFFS. 163
impatiently, one whole precious hour (we had a long
stage to make that day), during which time nothing
extraordinary occurred, and as we concluded we
might very probably have waited for hours with
no other result, we resumed our journey, feeling we
had done all that could be expected of us, and that
it was very ill-mannered of the spring to strike, as
we had travelled so far, and wasted one whole hour
to see it in action.
The scenery now became very beautiful ; to the
right of us towered up grand limestone cliffs, their
storm-rent and craggy sides being lighted up bril-
liantly by the sun. No rock reflects the sunlight
like the whitey-grey limestone, unless indeed chalk
can be called a rock ; both of these gleam at times
quite dazzlingly in the landscape, and the light and
shade contrasts are very powerful in consequence.
The brightness of the cliffs and the darkness of the
fissures and recesses was most striking ; the warmth
of the high-lights, and the cool grey tones of the
shadows, enhancing the effect in a wonderful manner.
Away to the left we had an extensive prospect, a sea
of hills, pine-girt and heather-clad, rising one beyond
the other as far as the eye could reach, till we could
hardly tell in the extreme distance which was land
and which was sky, and mixed with these were
smiling, evergreen valleys.
Just before reaching Clapham, a most romantic
little village, in that and every other respect very dif-
ferent from its namesake near London, we came across
a most delightful spot, a glen by the roadside with
waving pines about, and grey, weather-stained rocks
M 2
i64 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.-
at their feet. How delicious is the aromatic fra-
grance of a pine forest ! Such woods differ strikingly
from all others. The ground around is dry and
healthy, there is no entangled undergrowth, no de-
caying vegetation or rotting leaves : the fir-needles
are there certainly, but they seem to last well, and
dry up rather than decay. The resinous products
of these woods tend to preserve rather than permit
of decomposition. These beautiful trees are really
indigenous to Great Britain. Their forms are stately,
and their rich red stems and branches contrast most
delightfully and effectively with the dark, cool blue-
green of their somewhat gloomy foliage, and to the
landscape painter they are invaluable.
i65
CHAPTER XI.
A Romantic Village Ingleborough Mountain— Guides and their
Prey— Caverns— A Quiet Retreat— Holiday Haunts at Home — A
Golden Sea— Kirkby-Lonsdale— A Beautiful Old Bridge— A Narrow
Roadway—Mists and Fogs — Milnthorpe — A Welcome — Weather-
bound—A Grey Picture — A Transformation Scene — A Heronry —
Levens Hall — Curious Old Garden — A Mansion of the Olden Time
— Grange — A Perilous Road over Sands — A Stage Coach and
Passengers lost in the Quicksands — Cartmel — Unique Old Church
— Peculiar Architecture — Ulverston — A Strange Article on Sale—
A Red Tarn — Furness Abbey.
The village of Clapham is one of the most pic-
turesque and romantic imaginable ; it is embowered
in foliage, and surrounded by beautiful hills and
mountains, and through the hamlet flows a sparkling
rivulet as clear as crystal. Am^ongst the hills the
gigantic, flat-topped, much-caverned Ingleborouo-h
is most conspicuous. Near here is a famous cave
(this we were told by the guide, who was prowling
about on the look-out for his prey) over a mile in
extent, and altogether a most w^onderful sight. Of
course we would go and see it ; everybody who
came to Clapham visited the place. We, however,
decided we would be the exception to everybody,
and remain above Q^round ; the sun was shinino- so
gloriously, and the breath of the summer air was so
delicious, we declined to be persuaded away from
them for the finest dark hole in the world. And so
the guide talked in vain, and the more hard-hearted
i66 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
we grew the more the wondrous sights of the
Inofleborouofh cavern increased. But no ; however
we might lower ourselves in that worthy guide's
estimation, in leaving unseen ' one of the greatest
marvels of the world,' we elected to take a seat on
a rock close by the little stream and sketch the pretty
village, with its irregular cottages, quaint little bridge,
its middle distance of dark woods, with the grand
old mountains keeping watch and ward around.
We could not both see the cavern and make the
sketch, and we preferred to do the latter. This
mighty mountain of Ingleborough is a huge mass
of limestone, perfectly honeycombed with caverns of
all sorts and sizes, from a small cavity a few yards
in depth to the show one of a mile or more in
length.
At Clapham we found a delightful old-fashioned
inn, a perfect retreat of old English quiet. It struck
us such a resting-place as this old-time hostel, or a
similar one in a pretty country, of which the supply
is ample, would afford an agreeable change for
Paterfamilias from the usual sea-side accommoda-
tion or overdone Continental resorts. In such a
place there would be plenty to do in the way of
making excursions on foot or otherwise, climbing,
fishing, sketching, botanizing, geologizing, &c., &c.,
to pass the time enjoyably for everyone, besides the
novelty of entirely fresh scenery, fine healthy atmo-
sphere and unknown surroundings, which latter give
so much additional zest to exploration trips.
It was late in the afternoon before we proceeded
on our way, the low sun was already sending shadows
.^ PICTURESQUE OLD BRIDGE. 167
aslant our path ; we skirted the vast I norlcborough
range, with its weather-worn sid-es showing traces of
past and present action, scarred by time and guHied
by torrents. This hoary old mountain gives its record
of earth's stormy history, and shows that even now
it is not all summer and sunshine here ; its riven
sides bear testimony to this. Our road led us over
some elevated commons where there were no hedges,
walls, or trees to interrupt our view of the magnifi-
cent panorama of hills and dales and grey peaks
beyond ; it was an extensive prospect our eyes
wandered over; the valleys were filled with a lumi-
nous mist out of which the pine-crowned hills and
sunlit mountains rose gloriously ; it was as though a
golden sea lay beneath us, the dark purple highlands
appearing above like so many enchanted isles ; so
level and far-stretching was the mist that the decep-
tion was almost perfect. But was there ever so
beautiful an ocean, or such a magnificent archi-
pelago ?
Approaching Kirkby-Lonsdale, a lone Westmore-
land town where we proposed to take up our quarters
for the night, we crossed the river and narrow-
wooded valley of the Lune upon a high and beautiful
old bridge, consisting of three ribbed arches boldly
spanning the ravine. This bridge at Kirkby-Lonsdale
?s both a unique and picturesque structure, happily
placed amid beautiful and appropriate scenery ; the
river far down below frets along its rock)- bed,
swirling and tumbling from ledge to ledge, now
quiet for a while, then again fighting its way past
many an opposing boulder, in its fury and irritation
1 68 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
making cauldrons of boiling water and masses of
milk-white foam ; on either side of this lively stream
are thick overhanofinsf woods, the lower trees of
which dip their branches into its restless waters.
Altogether the quaint old bridge, the bright, gay,
brawling river, the grey rocks around, and the
wooded slopes on either side, form a most charming
picture and one that deserves to be transferred to
canvas. The bridge shows evident design of a
master hand ; no ordinary workman either conceived
or built it. Strangely enough, the origin of it, who
the architect was, or who the builder, is unknown,
and, as generally happens in such doubtful cases, its
erection is ascribed to Satanic agency, though why
his black Majesty should be credited with a mono-
poly of bridge-building, to the exclusion of old
castles, &c., is to me a puzzle. It is a wonder this
one is not called ' The Devil's Bridge ; ' one more or
less of these structures would be of no consequence.
Beautiful and picturesque though the bridge may
be, it has one serious practical drawback : it is over
narrow, there is only comfortable room for one
vehicle to go over at a time ; possibly two might pass
each other with a squeeze, but it would be a squeeze,
and, like a railway accident, one of those things better
avoided. Before crossing over we took the pre-
caution to sound our horn, to ensure, if possible, our
having the roadway, or rather perhaps I should say,
bridgeway to ourselves. This structure deserves,
quite as much as the ' auld brig ' at Ayr, the taunt
that
Twa wheelbarrows trembled when they met.
WREATHING MISTS. 169
Probably when it was first erected the traffic in these
parts was not great, and it satisfied all requirements ;
anyway, we observed due regard was had for the
safety of foot passengers, for over each buttress or
pier angular recesses are built out, as indeed they
are in nearl}' all old bridges, affording a safe retreat
for the pedestrian. The water of the river below is
remarkably cler.r, and in the quiet pools we could
see far down, and as we watched we noticed more
than one speckled trout rise up and make his supper
off the too venturesome fly.
Kirkby-Lonsdale is a pleasing, well-built little
town, situated on an elevated position on the banks
of the Lune. In the morninof we took a short stroll
past the quaint old church, with its sad colony of
graves around, on to some rising ground which
afforded us a fine prospect ahead ; beneath us was
a wooded valley from which silvery mists were slowly
rising, half hiding the distant wilderness of fells.
Strange fantastic forms these mists assumed as the)'
rose coil upon coil, separating and mingling with
each other, and eventually dispersing altogether into
thin air ; some would linger amongst the clumps of
fir-trees as though loth to leave the vale and be no
more, and now and again they would suddenly lift
up, like a curtain drawn quickly aside, and reveal the
scene beyond ; anon others would slowly arise again,
causing all the nearer objects to loom out large
anil indistinctly, with a mysterious half unreal look.
These wreathing mists and wandering clouds lend
a wonderful beaut)- and interest to the landscape;
they give variet)- to it, the)- drape the mountains
I70 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
with ever-changing robes. What would this land
be without its garments of clouds and mists ? Is there
no one to say a word in praise of them ? Even the
bitter ' north-easter ' has found an apologist, if not
an admirer, in Kingsley ; the pure white mists of
the country, it should be remembered, are very dif-
ferent affairs to the yellow smoke and sulphur-laden
fogs of dismal yellow hue that do duty for them
in large towns.
When we started on our day's pilgrimage the
weather promised to be fine, though heavy clouds
were floating about, some having a suspicious look
of containing a considerable amount of aqueous
vapour in suspense ; but they rolled harmlessly over-
head, driven along by the brisk wind, and ever
and anon the sun shone forth, only to be obscured
equally as quickly by another grey mass of inter-
cepting vapour ; clouds came and went in an end-
less succession, but no rain fell. Waves of shadow
swept over the landscape, following one another
almost as regularly as those of the sea ; it was a
grand sight to watch these racing along after each
other across the wide-spreading landscape and never
getting any nearer together. About mid-day we
arrived at the litde town of Milnthorpe, a small
place of no importance now, but in the pre-railway
times of some consequence on account of the sea
coming up inland so far and allowing of water
carriao-e of the products of the county. The railway
has killed the old traffic and brought nothing in its
place, so Milnthorpe sleeps on, a ghost of its former
self. The approach to the town by the way we
A WELCOME. 171
came is a most beautiful one : hioh trees arch their
branches over the road, their boughs interlacing,
and forming quite a lengthened natural arcade, and
to the left a little river broadens out into a stilly
pool, in which aquatic plants and birds abound ;
this pool is bordered by rich woods, which repeat
themselves below, and a bit of the sky is brought
down from above. ' Good stuff,' as an artist would
remark; 'just the thing for a picture, it all comes
so well.' Over the water, just peeping above a
mass of greenery, we espied the gables and lichen-
laden roof of an old building which we took to be a
mill. Entering the town, we drove up to what had
doubtless been, in the good old times, a fine
hostelrie, the Cross Keys by name — a new title to
us — which still bore plain evidences of its former
prosperity in the extensive stabling and rambling-
buildings in connection therewith. Here both land-
lord and landlady came forth to welcome us. They
had only recently taken the hotel, they said, and
trusted it would answer ; certainly they did their
best to make us poor wanderers at home, and
deserved to succeed. If all hotels boasted of such
agreeable and obliging proprietors, what pleasant
resting-places hotels would be ! Hardly had we got
safely indoors, and our goods and chattels down
from the phaeton, when patter, patter, the rain
began, followed by a steady deluge, the water lite-
rally pouring off the roofs of the houses into the
streets below, gutters not having been alwaws pro-
vided by the builders of old.
A dull leaden sky overspread the heavens, no
172 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
distant peep of blue or gleam of sunlight gave us
hope of a clearing up for some time at any rate, and
a glance at the barometer did not tend to improve
matters, for the hand pointed deliberately to ' much
rain,' and even fell from that low estate when we
gently tapped it, in a forlorn hope of its doing the
very reverse. So we made up our minds that we
were weather-bound for the day, and we set about
unpacking our things and hunting up our maps,
road-books, sketches, &c., to procure what entertain-
ment we could from these. Eventually, however,
we found we could not stand being cooped up
indoors the whole of the afternoon ; we had been
too long accustomed to the fresh open air for that ;
so, donning our ulsters and waterproofs, we saun-
tered down in all the pouring rain to have a look
at the sea and get a sniff of the salt-laden air.
We noticed the inhabitants of the place curiously
watching us through their diamond-paned windows,
evidently thinking we had taken leave of our senses.
We went down and stood upon the solitary wave-
washed shore, where the unquiet sea was making
plaintive music, breaking, breaking, breaking with
a ceaseless monotony upon the far-stretching sands.
It was a grey picture — grey rain, grey sea, grey
shore, and grey sky, all in a sad low tone ; and in
keeping with it was the querulous, oft-repeated cry
of the seagulls as they flew backwards and forwards
close over our heads in an apparently meaningless
manner. It was, in truth, a dreary scene — a mono-
tonous one withal, and yet it possessed a strange
fascination for us. The mind has many moods, and
BY THE SEA. 173
tlie gloom suited ours that clay. Now and a.L,'^ain
an extra large wave would come hissing spitefully
along, causing a long line of foam adown the bay,
and now and again an extra fierce blast would dash
the ceaseless weeping rain angrily into our faces, as
much as to say we had no business there, till at last
we looked at each other and mutually thought, if
anyone were observing us, what two idiots we must
have appeared, standing on the damp sands, un-
sheltered from the pouring rain, looking vacantly at
nothing. And so we turned and wended our way
back.
At that moment a suspicion of yellow on the
sands, more felt than observed, caused us to look
round, and ah ! what a change was there. A long,
low, narrow rift in the clouds, a streak of pale gold
showing tlirough it, and then presently another rift
appeared, and still another, until at last the sun
was revealed like a prisoner behind long dark bars,
its warm light tinging the rain-clouds and suffusing
its redness over the whole heavens. The sio^ht was
a glorious one ; it was a grand transformation scene
in Nature's superb theatre. The sea, too, had caught
the glowing hues, the tips of each wavelet, as it
rolled shorewards along, shone forth like burnished
gold — every one was so much glittering, moving
water, a liquid gem. Nearer at hand, where the
waves broke iipon the beach, they flashed out
emeralds and rubies, the light showing transparently
through them as they rose, the wet sands repeating
all this gorgeous colouring. Then, as if especially
to reward us for our long watching, and as though
174 ^4 DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
Nature wished to show us how she can paint when
she chooses, a rainbow camera dehcate, lustrous
circle of opal light. Alas ! it died almost as soon as
it was born ; and then we left.
On our way back to the hotel we passed a
heronry belonging to Dallam Tower, but we saw
none of its denizens. The wet, shining leaves of
the woods reflected the yellow of the sky above,
forming a harmony of gold and green, and the rain-
drops, as they dripped, dripped from bough to
bough, sparkled like many-coloured gems. What
a superb artist Nature is ! Who can mix colours
and tints like her ? What an endless succession
of magnificent landscapes, her handiwork, had we
not this drive already added to our minds' gallery,
to be recalled when back again in the dreary fogs
of dear old London ! There is an anecdote related
of Turner. Upon one occasion, a lady, inspecting
one of his glorious sunsets, remarked : ' But, Mr.
Turner, I never saw anything like that in Nature.'
' No, Madam,' he responded, ' but don't you wish
you could?' It is strange how few people can
really see the subtle wealth of colour there is in
Nature until a painter has translated it for them.
' A rainbow at night is the shepherd's delight,'
so runs an old proverb, and old proverbs have often
a deal of truth hidden away in them. There was
a rainbow last night, and next day we awoke to a
warm sunny morning. The clouds came still from
off the sea, but they were of the undoubted fine
summer kind, great white masses of rolling vapour,
with delicate violet shadin.^^s ; but the roads showed
AN ANCIENT HALL. 175
traces of the past storm, being muddy in the extreme
with a composition resembling mortar, which stuck
to everything. They reminded us of the never-to-
be-forgotten Derbyshire ones. Out of Milnthorpe
we had a stiff hill to mount, but our climbing was
rewarded by glorious views of mountains and sea.
A few miles brought us to a romantic spot over-
shadowed with umbrageous trees, and by which a
little river gurgled along musically over its stone-
strewn bed, its mossy and fern-clad banks forming
(^uite a picture. Close to this bridge was the en-
trance lodge to Levens Hall, one of those delight-
ful old English homes suggestive of old-fashioned
quiet and ancient hospitality, abounding in dark oak-
panelled rooms, tapestried chambers, antique furni-
ture, quaint old carved chimney-pieces, and the count-
less other relics of a bygone age ; all of which are so
delightful to the eye of an artist, and combine to
form a most restful retreat. Knowing what a charm-
ing old house this was, we ventured to ask at the
lodge if there would be any possible chance of our
seeing the place. Hardly expecting to obtain the
desired permission, we were both pleased and sur-
prised to have our wishes gratified. The gardens
are in keeping with the house, and have an old-
world look, with their trim avenues, and yews and
hollies and other evergreen trees cut into number-
less grotesque shapes, supposed to represent figures,
animals, ornaments, &c. One large tree with other
smaller ones around, the gardener infornied us,
represented Queen Elizabeth and the ladies of her
court {or her courtiers, I have forgotten which). For
176 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
this information we were obliged, as we should
never have unaided guessed who or what they were
intended for, but on being told, we imagined we
could trace certain resemblances, fanciful or other-
wise ; and in like manner all the trees are cut and
carved as man will, not as Nature likes. The effect
is very curious, more so perhaps than beautiful ;
but the antique garden is in thorough keeping with
the old-time house, and we would more such had
been preserved to us as our ancestors planned them.
The contrast between an old garden such as this
and a modern one is great indeed, as much so as
between the houses of the olden days and now.
The hall inside is a dream of the long-ago ; every-
thing is there to recall times past, nothing to suggest
times present, unless indeed it is the inhabitants
thereof. From the ancient armour, ' bearing the
bruises of war and the rust of time,' that gleams on
the dark oak panelling, to the heavy, stuffy four-
poster in which our ancestors gloried, all speak of
the romantic age of chivalry.
From here to Grange, a small sea-side hamlet,
our road traversed a wild, level, marsh-like waste,
strewn with boulders, rich in peat, of which we saw
some stacks, and covered with a kind of long rank
grass, along which the wind made rhythmic waves —
waves on the land as well as on the sea. Here and
there pools of gleaming water, filling the hollows
from which the peat had been cut, lit up the sombre
waste ; and beyond all, on the horizon line, a white
glittering, a silvery sheen told of the sea. There
was little life to be seen ; a solitary heron looking
SHHWi-.m
A COMMUNICATIVE OSTLER. 177
very disconsolate, and now and then a stray gull,
were all we observed. On the other hand, our road
skirted a mass of bold clifls, weathered into strange
forms, the home of jackdaws and many other birds.
Grange is an unimportant village, with an impor-
tant-looking hotel, a large building, and a comfort-
able one as well. Generally speaking, we have found
the larger the hotel the less the comfort, but the
hotel at Grange is one of the exceptions that prove
the rule. Grange is situated on Morecambe Bay,
and is evidently endeavouring to set up as a
watering-place, though whether it will succeed in
its ambition is a very doubtful matter. It is too
near the glorious scenery of the mountain and lake-
land, it appeared to us, to hold its own against
such rival and powerful counter-attractions, espe-
cially as, besides the sea and beautiful air, it has no
other recommendations ; at least, if others do exist,
we failed to discover them. At the hotel we found
capital stabling and a communicative ostler, and
we gathered from him many exciting stories of the
old coaching days in these parts, his father having
been a local driver. It appears, to save a long ddonr
of many miles, the coaches used to cross over the
Ulverston sands at low water, from Hest Bank near
Lancaster, to Kent's Bank near here, a distance of
some ten miles. The passage over the sands was
a somewhat dangerous exploit, as the course lay
over the bed of a river and across several streams,
which had to be forded, many quicksands also had
to be avoided, and as the tide at times rose to fifteen
feet above the low- water level, there was always a
N
178 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
spice of danger in the journey, for though all the
coachmen were thoroughly experienced men and well
acquainted with their work, still, if a storm came sud-
denly on, or a driving mist enveloped the coach, the
chances of a mishap were considerable. And if the
coach or a carriage got into one of the quicksands
far from land, it was a life-and-death matter ; also if
such got caught by the tide, which comes up here
suddenly and with great rapidity, it was a toss-up
what the travellers' fate would be. It was a race
with the tide for dear life,^ and if a horse stumbled
or anything gave way the chances of reaching terra
firma in safety were somewhat small. In fact, in the
old times so precarious was the passage considered,
that on an insulated mass of rock, called Chapel
Island, an oratory was built, and a priest provided,
whose duty it was to offer up daily prayers for the
safety of travellers over the sands. Ruins of this
ancient edifice still exist. Many a coach, the ostler
told us, had got stuck fast in the quicksands. On one
occasion one had started as usual from Hest Bank ;
shortly after its departure a dense fog came on, and
nothing the rest of the day was heard of it. Search
parties were organized the next morning when the
tide was out, and the coach was discovered half
buried in the sands, the horses and the passengers
being all drowned. Once, he told us, his father had
a narrow shave of it; owing to a sea-mist suddenly
coming on he had lost his way ; fortunately it quickly
cleared off, and he discovered, to his horror, he was
actually driving out to sea. At once, of course, he
changed his course, and steered In the direction of
A DANGEROUS DRIVE. 179
the well-known landmarks ; however, owing to the
loss of time entailed by his mistake, the tide, coming
up very fast, caught the coach. There was nothing
for it but to gallop the horses as hard as they could
go, and trust to Providence to escape the quick-
sands, now covered over. Eventually he landed all
safely at Kent's Bank, but the water had risen up
to the axles of his wheels, and the two inside pas-
sengers were nearly frightened to death by the
adventure or misadventure, having had to hold on
(the coach jolted too much for them to be able to
keep their seats), with the water washing in and out
of the compartment, momentarily expecting to be
overturned and drowned outright.
Mrs. Hemans, on her visit to these parts, ap-
proached the Lake District this way, and Words-
worth spoke of the feat as a deed of ' derring-do.'
Certainly such travelling must have been of an
exciting nature, especially if from any cause the
coach started late, and in consequence you had to
run a race with the tide for very life, knowing that a
stumble or a quicksand might be the end of you.
An extract from my road-book, ' Paterson's Roads,'
last edition, published before the era of railways, as
to the passage over these sands, may be of interest: —
' The passage over this bay is precarious ; if the tide
be out, cross the sands. But it is necessary for the
traveller to place himself under the care of a guide,
who is obliged to attend here all weathers, from
sunrise to sunset, for the purpose of conducting those
who wish to cross this pathless desert ; many indi-
viduals have lost not only their way, but their lives,
N 2
I So A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
crossing here.' We had actually at one time a
vague sort of an idea of driving to the Lakes this
way, as being a romantic and uncommon approach
to them, but, hearing of the dangers of the proceed-
ing, we deemed the romance of the journey not
worth the risk. Many an unfortunate traveller has
lost his life on these sands, and to this day portions
of old stage-coaches remain firmly imbedded in them.
Possibly, in the far, far future, when the New Zea-
lander sits on the ruins of London Bridge, some of
these may be fished up, and learned discussions held
over them by savants, and they may be described as
relics of a forgotten age and people ; much as we
now theorize over the remains of a Viking's ship.
Perhaps even — but it will never do to let one's
imagination run riot in this way, there is no knowing
where it might land us.
From Grange, next morning, we drove to Cart-
mel, a small, dull, forsaken-looking town situated
in a lonely country, but possessing a very fine and
remarkable church — one of unusual size and in a
capital state of preservation. It formerly belonged
to a priory founded here in the year i i88 by William
Mareschall, Earl of Pembroke, to whom a monu-
ment still exists in the Temple Church, London.
This building is the only conventual one which es-
caped mutilation in Lancashire at the time of the
dissolution of the monasteries. The church is alto-
gether unique in design, and of bold — not to say
audacious— construction ; there is none other at all
like it in England, and I know of none on the Conti-
nent, hi the first place, its tower or towers — it is
CURIOUS OLD CHURCH. i8i
liard tf) know whether to call the construction ' it ' or
' them ' — consists or consist of two squares, one placed
diagonally over the other ; the higher one being
supported by light shafts, apparently of insufficient
strength for the purpose, but the length of time the
structure has stood ])roves the contrary. Then, too,
the rounded Norman and the pointed Gothic arches
are mixed together in a strange manner. They are
evidently of the same period of workmanship, and
intentionally so arranged ; for instance, the Norman
arch on the north side of the nave corresponds to a
similar Gothic one on the south side ; and so it is
with the windows. And in the transepts, in like
manner — north and south — Gothic answers to Nor-
man work. Without doubt this is not accidental,
but intended by the architect. Altogether, this is
a most curious and peculiar edifice, and well worth
stud)ing by the tourist as well as by the archa^o-
los^ist. The desigrner of this church must ha\ e been
an eccentric individual ; at any rate, he appears to
have determined to raise up quite an original struc-
ture, and he succeeded. However, eccentricity and
beauty are seldom good friends or can agree to-
gether. Certainly this is a curious pile ; whether or
not it possesses other merits the visitor must judge
for himself. Besides its peculiarities of construction,
there are to be observed some exceedingly beautiful
carved-oak stalls, an elaborated detailed screen, many
superb old monuments, and — in the vestry — a curious
collection of quaint old books and records of the
past. The register of this church alone contains the
names of over a hundred persons all ot whom met
1 82 A DRIVE THRO UGH ENGLAND.
their deaths crossinor the fatal sands from Lanca-
shire ; as many as ten at a time are registered as
having" lost their way in a blinding mist and been
drowned. It was well we did not attempt the cross-
ing ; the chances of our finding our way guideless —
for now-a-days no one is appointed to direct the
traveller — across this trackless region, beset with
quicksands, would have been very small.
From Cartmel to Ulverston we passed on our
way Holker Hall, one of the many beautiful seats of
the fortunate Duke of Devonshire, and from which
we had the sea to our left, more or less, the rest of
the journey, with occasional margins of waste land
between us and it ; to the right were woods full of
life, in which were countless birds, as well as squirrels
and numerous rabbits, contrasting strangely with the
desolate look of the wild waste on the other hand.
There the only life we saw was one solitary stray
gull, its wings quivering in the light, telling out
against the dark hills across the bay in brightest
white. Beyond the immediate foreground we caught
a glance of glimmering sands and white-capped waves
breaking monotonously upon them ; altogether it was
a somewhat lonely drive. Entering Ulverston, we
got ' mixed up' in some of the by-streets, and by so
doing we saw a strange sight. In a small shop,
exposed for sale, amongst old clothes, decrepit furni-
ture, &c., we noticed an article for sale labelled,
' Cheap, Second-hand ;' and what do you think that
article was ? You will never guess. Well, it was —
a coffin ! Such a thinof we had never met with
before, offered thus, in all our experience, though we
A GRUESOME SIGHT. 183
had come across many curious and strange objects
for sale in out-of-the-way shops durint^ our hunts for
bric-a-brac, Sec. Of course it is to be presumed the
coffin had never been actually used ; doubtless it
was one of a stock of an undertaker who had come
to grief, or — horrible idea ! — perchance it was a misfit.
Anyway, seeing such publicly offered for sale struck
us as being rather a gruesome sight.
From Ulverston to Furness Abbey the country
is not remarkable for its scenery ; bleak moorlands,
with scantily cultivated patches mixed here and there
with iron mines, and a busy railway winding in and
out of these, hardly combine to form a beautiful
landscape. Still, now and again, where the road
descends to a sheltered glen with a tanglement of
flourishing vegetation, and along which runs a tum-
bling, gurgling stream, a pleasant little bit is given
for the weary eye to rest upon ; especially refreshing
these appear in contrast to the bleak granite up-
lands. We somehow managed to get off the direct
road at one part ; not a difficult feat to accomplish,
as the main roads and by-roads are nearly of equal
merit, or demerit, in this part of the world, and twist
and turn about in an indefinite manner as though
they could not make up their minds to go anywhere
in particular. Our little ddtoiir took us to a strange,
weird-looking spot, which, save for our mistake, we
should have missed ; a bleak tarn, up amongst the
moors, a ghastly pool with blood-red water, looking
strangely unnatural. This peculiar colour is due to
the surrounding ironstone. The very place for a
sensational novelist to lav the scene of a horrible
i84 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
murder, we thought. We arrived at Furncss Abbey
before we were aware of the fact ; so unexpectedly
do you, by road, come upon the well wooded and
Avatered glen in which the hoary old ruin lies con-
cealed. Alas ! the once secluded, romantic ravine
afforded a too easy route for the railway to the large
iron-smelting works and town of Barrow, and so it
goes along the vale, passing close to the sacred walls
of the old pile. Now the smoke of locomotives
mingles with the ancient ruins, the loud whistles of
the engines strike discordantly upon the ear of the
modern pilgrim, and the bump, bump, bumping of
heavy-laden ore trucks, shunting incessantly back-
wards and forwards, are sounds scarcely in harmony
with the otherwise peaceful scene. A sudden descent
from the bleak land above took us into this narrow
sheltered vale, and there, all bathed in a golden
glory by the rays of the setting sun, stood the old
abbey, and close to it an hotel.
i85
CHAPTER XII.
l\uins by Moonlight — The Beauty of an Old Abbey — A Nameless
Castle — A Storm — Driving by Night — A Weird Road — Newby
Bridge — Road Work and Accidents — A Poor Landlord — A Hot
Day— The Enjoyment of the Unknown— A Forsaken Road — A
Curious Wayside Hostel — A Picture — Artists and Painting —
Bowness — National Playgrounds — A Tourist-haunted Spot — Belle
Island — An Exciting Exploit — Low Wood — Lady Holm — Moun-
tain Sunsets — A Romantic Religion — A Moonlight Row on the
Lake.
At the comfortable inn under the very shadow of
Fiirness Abbey we stayed the night ; the moon was
at full, and we wished to see the old pile under her
mellow, silvery light, remembering Scott's advice
respecting viewing Melrose under similar conditions ;
advice however which, although he gave, he confessed
he had never himself acted upon. In spite of his high
authority (after seeing the ruins thus), I must beg to
differ from the great magician on this point ; rather
would I say the gloaming is the hour to view such
ruins, just as the tranquil glory of the last sunbeams
rests lovingly upon the old fane, lighting it up with
a rich, warm colouring, leaving all in shade, a delight-
ful half-revealed mystery — a very artist's dream. It
is true, moonlight gives dimness and mystery to such
old piles, but all the charming detail of the carved
stone, of pillars and capitals, the mouldings of the
arches, See, the delicate tracery and miillions of the
windows, together with the draping i\')- and the rich
1 86 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
colouring of the moss-clad walls, are lost, and these
are of the very essence of the beauty of an old
ruined abbey. Moonlight is only advantageous in
viewino- a ruin the details of which will not bear
'the garish light of day.' You may have one fine
effect when the moon shows out white against a
mullioned window, and her silvery light steals
through broken oriel or across a pillared recess, one
fine effect of white and black, and that is all.
The old monks generally, and the Cistercians
especially, built to perfection ; and not only did they
build well, but they chose where to erect their noble
edifices with rare judgment and consummate care,
having an eye to the beautiful the while. In the
present instance, as in almost every other case, they
selected for their establishment a secluded and well-
wooded vale, watered by a river or stream, so that
they might be sure of their fish when they fasted —
or feasted — on Fridays. The monks who raised
the grand abbey of Furness at first began to build
their church at a spot near Preston, but they soon
changed their locality, that not being exactly to
their liking. Fastidious monks ! Then they came to
this narrow, out-of-the-way glen, and a very safe and
secluded retreat it must have been in those old days,
surrounded as the place was on all sides by far-
spreading forests, guarded on the north by a wilder-
ness of rarely traversed mountains, a district guiltless
of roads, on the west by the stormy ocean, and on
the east by the formidable and dangerous quick-
sands of Morecambe Bay. In all wide England
they could hardly have chosen a more retired or a
AN OLD CASTLE. 1S7
more secure spot, and one so free from the intrusions
of the outer world. And now a railway shakes the
very foundations of the structure raised by those of
old with so much loving care, and a busy hotel
stands within its precincts. In spite, however, of the
iron horse, and in spite of the irreverent laughter
of tourists, the cowled monks sleep none the less
peacefully beneath the once hallowed soil, each with
the sacred wafer upon his mouldering- tongue. A
grand and fitting memorial of them is this desolate
temple, the scars of which, wrought by man and age,
kindly mother Nature has done her best to hide.
Back to Ulverston next mornincf we were obliged
to retrace our steps ; there was no other way out
of the vale for us. On our road to the left, in a hol-
low secluded dell, we noticed the extensive ruins of
an old castle, its broken towers and time-rent walls
standing darkly out against the white sky. Neither
our map nor our road-book made any mention of
these, which apparently have been converted into a
farm-house, the courtyard forming a capital garden ;
yet this old fortress must have been a formidable
stronghold in its day. Strangely enough, a guide-
book to the district we glanced at later on likewise
failed to mention it.
At Ulverston we had to remain the best part of the
day, detained by a drenching thunderstorm, which
very considerately came on just as we had got inside
our hotel, but was not so considerate in leaving off
when we wished to start. Owing to this little show
of temper on the part of the weather it was late before
we were enabled to once again resume our wander-
1 88 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
ings, and when we did so we found before us a wil-
derness of clouds and mountains minoled with each
other in strange confusion. It was almost dark when
we started, and the darkness grew apace. To one
side of us the hills rose solemn, dim, and vast ; on
the other a flat, wan, grey reach — half sand, half sea
— stretched away indefinitely till lost in space. On
the side of the mountains silence reigned supreme ;
from the other came to us the mournful, far-off
soundintr wash, wash of the in-comino- tide — a lonof-
drawn sigh of swelling waves full of mystery and
an unknown longing ; and from off the sea came the
night wind, sadly wailing as it passed us by. Both
the mountain stillness and the melanchol}^ complain-
ing of the winds and waves depressed our spirits,
and we drove on in silence. Presently we left the
waters of the bay and entered what appeared to us
at that hour a gloomy valley or defile enclosed by
barrier mountains. On both hands trees and bold
projecting crags assumed strange shapes ; huge
rocks of fantastic forms jutted out like antediluvian
monsters ready to pounce down on our devoted
selves. The nearer eminences frowned down upon
us in dark, forbidding majesty, their shadowy un-
certain outline in the gloom making them appear
of a tremendous size. Solitary trees, too, stood
spectrally forth here and there, waving their branch-
like arms in the wind, looking like gigantic ghosts ;
and ever and again we heard the sounds of a swift-
rushing river dashing along in a noisy tumult and
rage, fighting its impetuous way against many an
imposing boulder, the white foam of its wrath being
BELATED. 1S9
visible out of its sombre surroundin(j;-s. Still darker
iL^-rew the ni^^-ht, till sky and mountains, woods and
rocks were lost in one undistiniruishable whole — a
veritable Egyptian blackness.
The only sounds we heard were the fitful
souLihinof of the wind amoncf the trees and rocks,
and the everlasting turmoil of the waters. And so
we drove along, our lamps lighted and our horn in
frequent use. It was a weird, uncanny drive, and
we were not sorry when at last the end came and
we saw a faint lio^ht shinino;" throuofh the orloom.
This welcome gleam we found issued from a small
hotel at Newby Bridge, and here we elected to
spend the night, as the landlord — who came to the
door, attracted by the sound of our wheels — said he
could accommodate both ourselves and our steeds.
We had intended to have made a longer stage that
evening, but tlic night was such we did not care to
continue our journey on an unknown road in the
uncertain gloom ; in fact, the road we had lately
traversed twisted and turned about so in places it
was a puzzle to us how we managed to escape an
upset, if not even a more serious mishap, considering
the risky pace we drove along it, impelled to do so,
having only a vague idea of driving to somewhere
amonost the lakes and mountains, and not knowing
what or where our quarters might be.
Considering the numerous night journeys we
have made from time to time, over all sorts and
conditions of roads, during our many driving excur-
sions, without the slightest mishap occurring, it would
appear to us there must be some special Providence
iQo A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
that watches over belated tourists who drive about
strange country roads. In driving across country
I have quite come to the conclusion that where there
is the most danger there is the least danger — para-
doxical though such a statement may seem — and I
would explain my meaning thus : Granted a good
whip, good cattle, and good tackle, in dangerous bits
of the way — and there are plenty such in England —
or upon dai'k nights on unknown roads, then the
driver is obligfed to have all his wits about him. He
is ready and prepared for any emergency, and above
all he leaves nothing to chance. The one single
accident — which is the only one that has ever
happened to me during my many drives of the last
ten years or so, averaging altogether upwards of
five thousand miles of roads over all parts of Great
Britain, some detestably bad ones among the num-
ber — occurred just because, being on the last stage
of a long tour nearing home, and having a level
stretch of road all to myself, I for a moment was
careless, one of my steeds became restive owing to
the sudden apparition of a man on a bicycle— not
such a common sight then as now — and whilst I was
talking to my man, the horses somehow managed to
land us all in a ditch just fifteen miles from our own
house, and this at the end of a tour of about eight
hundred miles, over, in parts, a very difficult and
awkward country.
But to return to our hotel at Newby Bridge.
The house itself is— or rather, was — all that could
be desired ; was I say, for the building, though ori-
ginally an excellent one, had been much neglected
A DRIVE BY WINDERMERE. J91
of late years. It appears that on the river-side
opposite this spot used to be the landing-place for
passengers by steamer up Windermere, at which
time this was a flourishing hostelrie ; of late years,
however, the railway has constructed both a station
and stage for passengers higher up by the lake side,
and consequently our hostel has ' gone to the dogs/ as
a fisherman I met outside next morning expressed it.
Next morning a light white haze obscured the
landscape, but the sun quickly conquered this ; and
the long line of mists creeping up the hillsides
higher and higher till they disappeared in the sky
above was a fine sight. These wandering vapours
lend an indescribable charm and mystery to the
mountains. They spiritualize a scene. The haze
and mists all disappeared, leaving us with a clear
blue sky overhead and every promise of a warm
day. The grass and leaves of the hedgerows,
the needles of the fir-trees, were all laden with
sparkling dewdrops, and for the first time flies
began to annoy our horses. To protect the latter,
the happy thought occurred to us to pluck some
long bracken and arrange it over their heads, and,
thus adorned, we drove peacefully along, the mo vino-
green afl'ording a very efficient guard against the
tormentors. We were driving now along the side,
not the shore, for our road climbed up and down
the hill slopes of ' wooded Winandermere, the river-
lake,' which at this lower end deserves the title ; and
a grand drive it was, with charming views the whole
of the way — views of purple mountains, blue spark-
ling waters, and man\-tinted woods. But, lovely
192 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
though the scene was, we felt there was one draw-
back to our day's enjoyment. We were approaching
a well-known land — a tourist haunted, much-guide-
book-described and travelled country. The pleasures
of anticipation were gone ; the delightful experiences
of coming across unknown and unexpected beauty
spots — spots of our own discovering — were for us
no longer, for a time at least. Great is the enjoy-
ment, when travelling through a fresh country, of
coming suddenly upon some wild, rock-bound, tree-
girt nook, some lonely fell or tarn, some grey old-
world home, some ancient ruin (to you unknown by
fame), to arrive all unexpectedly at some picturesque
village or somnolent rural town, or to drive up to
some quaint, old-fashioned country hostelrie, whose
porch perchance is covered with the fragrant honey-
suckle ; to find yourself — it may be when least ex-
pecting it — in the midst of a scene of great natural
beauty, where every object comes as a surprise to
you and calls forth fresh admiration. The enjoy-
ment of the unknown and unexpected is far greater
than is the pleasure (much though that may be)
derived from viewing scenery, however fine, that is
familiar, or has been over and over again described.
One of the great delights of driving along a
winding country lane for the first time is the un-
certainty of what will present itself to your gaze at
each fresh turn ; you feel as if you could drive on
for ever, as though the next bend in the road will
surely reveal to you something quite new, ex-
ceeding even in loveliness what you have already
seen.
A PICTURESQUE DELL. 193
We were now approaching the head -quarters of
the Lake District ; still, strangely enough, the road,
as far as Bowness, is unchanged and little known ;
and although it is one of exceeding beauty, affording
glorious panoramas of the mountains at the head of
the lake, it is almost quite deserted and seldom
travelled over, the stream of tourists and others
being conveyed along the lake below by the
steamers. Indeed, the road was in places very
rough, and bore plain evidences of its little use ;
yet I know of no finer drive, and few as fine, in
the whole of the district than that between Newby
Bridge and Bowness taken in the direction we took
it, and having the whole of the mountains before
you, far-stretching fells, hills piled on hills, peaks
beyond peaks unfolding their long display.
Not only were the views we had from time to
time of enchanting loveliness, but the minor objects
along our road were most picturesque. Of one spot
where we halted for a short time in the shade I
have still the picture before me — a little secluded
dell formed by a sudden dip of the road, sheltered
by trees of hazel and birch, and adown the glen
a little burn, an untamed mountain stream, came
tumbling over the moss-grown rocks above, and
formed in the hollow of a boulder by the wayside
a clear crystalline pool, and then hurried down to
the lake along a narrow ravine, fern-fringed the rest
of its happy journey. And down that ravine (a
combe they would call it in Devonshire, a chine in
the Isle of Wight) we caught a peep of the sil-
very lake dancing and quivering in the tremulous
O
194 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
light, and of the wooded hills and purple fells be-
yond, framed close at hand with the graceful birch —
a gem of Nature's handiwork, a little bit of beauty,
as delightful as any that ever charmed the eye of
an artist.
At another spot we came across a curious little
low cottage, which, by a signboard fixed over the
door, we learnt was an inn, a fact we should cer-
tainly never otherwise have guessed. It was built
on the steep hill-side, so steep here indeed that
our road was on a level with its grey-slated, lichen -
stained, and moss and stone-crop covered roof, and
v/e almost looked down its great chimney, the
only large thing about the place. The day was
hot ; the little cottage, with its thick tree-shaded
walls, looked invitingly cool, as though bidding us
to come inside out of the sun ; and rare glimpses
of the gleaming lake afar down caught through
the birches and red stemmed firs made this a most
enticing looking spot, so much so that we ven-
tured to ' try the tap,' half as an excuse to view
the interior of the 'wee' cottage, and see if it
was by any chance as charmingly picturesque as
the exterior. We were shown into a tiny parlour,
a very tiny one, as became such a rural wayside
hostelrie, if that is the right term — public-house I
could hardly call such a delightful retreat — and
presently some clear brown ale was set before us.
How deliciously cool that tiny parlour was, and
how we relished the foaming draught, and what a
delightful sketch I afterwards made of that rough-
built, weather-stained old cottage, witJi just a sus-
SKETCHING FROM NATURE. 195
picion of silver high up on the horizon for the lake,
and a mass of russet hills beyond, the blue smoke
curling lazily upwards from the one great chimney
showing out well against the deep green of the
trees around, and bringing the sky, and water, and
foreground well together ! It was a fitting subject
for a water-colour sketch, and composed most
happily ; there was no ' dodging ' required — I painted
it just as it came. It is not often in Nature you have
a ready-made picture thus ; to improve a composi-
tion an artist has often to ignore a disagreeable or
inharmonious feature, such as a new door to an old
building, an unsuitable foreground, &c. ; he is obliged
to avoid awkward lines as well, and has often to
break up the outlines of a scene in consequence ;
sketchino- from nature is an everlasting- fightinof
against difficulties. In fact, it is the spirit of the
scene rather than a photographic unfeeling repro-
duction of the same that has to be sought after,
and so every artist worthy of the name sees Nature
in his own way ; his way may not be my way, but
it may be equally as true, or more so, though I per-
sonally fail to comprehend it. So a David Cox
differs from a Turner, a Creswick from a Copley
Fielding, and so forth, and yet all are true to
nature. One man sees the same landscape grey,
another a harmony of rich colouring, and yet an-
other would translate it all in tone, and who shall
decide who is wrong, for if they paint Nature as
they see her all are right. You cannot with dull
earthly judgments represent the glowing brightness
of sunlight ; your light white paper or white paint
o 2
196 A DRIVE T FIR O UGH ENGLAND.
is but a grey compared to It. If you do not credit
this, hold up a piece of blank paper, keeping it in
the shade, for that is what you have to represent
your highest light with, and try it against any bright
object in the sun, and you will discover the truth
of my statements. And no one can absolutely
translate Nature as she is ; the brilliancy of sun-
light has to be obtained by forcing the darks some-
where, and it must be remembered we cannot get
our deepest shadows darker than Nature's. One
artist may get his power here, another there, and
yet all be relatively correct ; it is a matter of feeling.
But to return to the little cottage and its sur-
roundings, which originated this long— perhaps too
long — digression. Not only was the spot beauti-
ful in itself, and as romantic as beautiful, but its
rich colouring was a study. Strange though it may
appear, I have found, in sketching such like bits,
it is necessary to employ the most brilliant colours
of my box to approach even to the marvellously
harmonious and glowing (not gaudy) colouring of
Nature, more so even than in making copies of
Italian scenery. Those who have not attempted
both may hardly credit this ; but the bright yellow
of the mosses, the purple-blue bloom of the dis-
tant fells, the orange and red tints of the withered
and dead bracken, the positive but subdued car-
mine of the fir trunks and branches, the velvety-
green of the pine trees' foliage, the deep blue of
the lake, the azure of the sky, and lastly, but not
least, the countless tints of the old weather-stained,
lichen-encrusted roof and walls, need a palette of
A DESERTED ROAD. 197
the most varied kind. As a rule the fewer colours
)ou employ to obtain the desired effect the better ;
but in painting such a spot as the above, I have
found the whole range of my colours insufficient.
Before we left, we inquired of the landlady, who
was standing by admiring the representation of her
cottage, who her customers chiefly were, for it ap-
peared to us few people found their way here.
' Well,' she replied, ' now and then we gets a
gentleman a-walking, but very seldom ; our cus-
tomers are mostly shepherds, cattle dealers, drovers,
and a few farmers, and any chance-like travellers.
Now, sir, if we could only get a few tourists (pro-
nounced tower-ists) we might do very well ; I only
a-wishes we could.' Ah, well ! we did not join the
worthy dame In her wishes ; It Is a blessing there
are a few spots still left in these days of cheap
travel iuul rapid transit free from the ubiquitous
tourist and the noisy, objectionable 'Arry and his
associates.
As we journeyed on, the beauties of this wonder-
ful road seemed to grow rather than diminish ; there
was hardly anywhere a dozen )ards without some
spot or peep that would have rejoiced the heart of
a landscape painter, and been worthy of the best
efforts of his brush. Amongst hundreds of other
drives, ours that day stands prominently forth, and
often In the dull, cheerless November days In town
do my thoughts wander back to the bright, fair,
sunny landscape through which we passed that sum-
mer morn. Mow gloriously the bright sunlight
glinted down upon the mountains and the lake !
198 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
How soft, aerial, and tender everything looked !
How peacefully the placid waters and wooded hills
lay before us, asleep in the golden, mellow light !
What bewildering combinations of rock and tree,
flood and fell, were all around us — combinations
changing ever as we sped along, colour as well as
form ! Down from heathery moors came numerous
streams, crossing our road from time to time, chant-
ing to each other as they hurried along to join the
lake below, making numberless cascades and falls on
their way. Through dark but fragrant pine groves,
where the gentle wind made mysterious murmurings
among the trees, our way led us ; and then we left
this wild wooded solitude for a more open country,
with extensive prospects on every hand.
And so we travelled on till suddenly we found
ourselves in the thriving little town of Bowness,
amid the bustle of streets and glare of houses. The
flymen and coaches were doing a roaring trade, and
the hotel- keepers were busily employed ; all was
restlessness and activity, and we drove through the
town as quickly as we could. It pleased us not,
though possibly it might be our misfortune not to
like Bowness, and not the fault of the place or its
visitors. Chacitn a son gout. Those that live in
large cities find their change in the peaceful quiet
of the country, and doubtless those who live mostly
in the country find their change in towns and seaside
resorts such as Scarborough, Brighton, Hastings,
and the like.
It has sometimes struck me what an advantage
it would be, provided the idea were at all feasible, if
NATIONAL PLEASURE GROUNDS. 199
Government, by an Act of Parliament, could arrange
to purchase certain tracts of land — as a portion of
the Lake country, some of the mountain lands of
Wales and Scotland, portions of the wild moorlands
of Yorkshire and in the Peak district of Derbyshire,
Dartmoor in Devonshire, &;c. — and set them aside
for ever as gigantic pleasure grounds for the nation,
as has been done in America in the case of the
Yosemite Valley, the Yellowstone Park, &c. ; national
recreation grounds for all — the tourist, artist, fisher-
man, pedestrian, &c. — where everyone could view
Nature untamed and unspoilt by the hand of man ;
for ever free from the horrors of the speculative
builder and railway contractor, those two great de-
stroyers of rural scenery. Such a project is doubt-
less a chimerical one, but, could it be carried out,
even to a much smaller extent, and those beautiful
portions of Old England secured by the nation, and
preserved in all their natural loveliness and wildness,
it would be a rare blessing.
Opposite Bowness is Belle Isle, by far the largest
in the lake. It is of some thirty acres in extent, and
contains a curious circular-shaped residence, built
with stones of great size. In digging the foundations
for this, numerous pieces of antique armour were
discovered, relics of less peaceful times than the
present. This island was in olden da)'s the property
of an ancient and renowned Westmoreland family
of the name of Phillipson, and during the civil
wars the owner — a staunch Royalist — was a colonel
in the King's army. His brother, also a major in
the same, was a dare-devil sort of a fellow of qreat
A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
personal strength and courage, and was famed all
around for his mad exploits, so much so indeed as
to have earned the nickname of Robin the Devil.
After the King's death the youngest of the brothers
lived quietly on the island. It appears, however,
he was not long allowed to enjoy his seclusion in
peace. A certain Colonel Briggs, of the Parliamen-
tary army, a magistrate as well as a soldier,
Great on the bench, great in the saddle,
Mighty he was at both of these,
And styled of war as well as peace,
determined to throw the offensive Royalist into prison,
and for this purpose proceeded at the head of a con-
siderable force to besiege him in his casde on Belle
Isle. Phillipson, however, being duly warned of his
intention, had the place put into a state of defence,
which, surrounded as it was by the lake, was by no
means an easy stronghold to capture. After a siege
of eight months, Phillipson's brother, who mean-
while had collected a strong body of horse, advanced
to his succour, and compelled Briggs to hastily retire.
The siege being raised, young Phillipson was by no
means the sort of man to sit quiedy down as though
nothing had happened, and he quickly planned his
revenge, which he attempted to carry out without
delay. One Sunday morning he with his band of
trusty followers rode over to Kendal, and during
service surrounded the church which the obnoxious
Parliamentary colonel attended. Having done this,
young Phillipson rode his horse boldly in at the
door and right up the aisle, through the midst of the
astonished congregation, prepared then and there to
A DARING EXPLOIT.
cut down his adversary. Fortunately for himself,
Colonel Briggs was absent that Jay, or it would have
fared badly with him. Failing to discover the object
of his search, Phillipson turned his horse round and
rode down the other aisle, and attempted to make
his exit by another door. It so happened this
one was lower than that by which he entered the
building, and in dashing out of the church his
helmet caught against the arch of the doorway
and was wrenched off by the blow ; his saddle-girths
also gave way, and he was unhorsed. But, quickly
regaining his followers, he rode back, unmolested,
home, leaving, however, his helmet behind him,
which to this day hangs in one of the aisles of Ken-
dal Church. This remarkable Incident is made good
use of by Sir Walter Scott, which he has introduced
with some poetical embellishments into ' Rokeby,'
canto vi. :
Through the Gothic arch there sprung
A horseman armed, at headlong speed —
Sable his cloak, his plume, his steed —
Fire from the flinty floor was spurn'd,
The vaults unwonted clang returned.
All scattered backwards as he came,
For all knew Bertram Risingham.
Three bounds that noble courser gave,
The first has reached the central nave,
The second cleared the chancel wide,
The third he was at Wycliffe's side.
It has always been a matter of surprise to me why
this really fine poem of ' Rokeby ' should be thought
so little of compared to the other poetical productions
of the great Scottish bard. To m)self, it appears to
be — if not the finest of his compositions — certainly
A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
not inferior to any. I believe at the time of its pro-
duction it was adversely criticised ; and it may be
that, irrespective of its merits, the fault-finding has
effected its popularity even to this day, much in the
same way as Byron's caustic sarcasm —
O Southey, Southey, cease thy varied song ;
A bard may chant too often and too long,
has clung to the unfortunate English poet. We
seem to remember the stinging, ill natured couplet
more than Southey's merits.
The pleasant, comfortable hotel at Low Wood,
situated close to the lake, some three miles or so
from Bowness, received us that afternoon. We were
so pleased with this excellent inn — all in the country
by itself, as a rural hostel should be — that w& wisely
decided to proceed no further that day. We spent
the afternoon in climbing to the top of the fells at
the back of the place, and from which height we dis-
covered a charming view of Windermere, both pic-
turesque and panoramic, two properties that do not
always go together. In the evening we rowed upon
the lake, paddling lazily about in and out of the
delightfully secluded bays, now steering our way
through a little fleet of sleeping water-lilies, now
through a miniature forest of rushes, till at last we
came to the island of Lady Holm, or Chapel Holm,
on which there was in the pre- Reformation days an
oratory consecrated to the Virgin, and in which Mass
used to be sung : —
To visit Lady Holm of yore,
Where stood the blessed virgin's cell,
Full many a pilgrim dipped an oar.
A A'OIF ON WINDERMERE. 203
It must have been a romantic sigrht to have seen
tlie pilgrims and other worshippers making- their
way by boats across the lake to this lonely isle.
Truly the Roman Catholic religion is a picturesque
one, whether the heart be content or not ; no pains
are spared by that Church to please both eye and
ear. In this respect how great the contrast to the
Presbyterian communion of Scotland. Here we
rested on our oars, watching the golden splendours
of the dying day. Oh, the wonderful loveliness of
these purple mountain sunsets ; they are revelations
of colour ! The West was all aglow with a luminous
orange, melting away into an azure grey ; the earth
was veiled in shadow save where the lake reflected
the glory of the sky, and just one cloud floated in
the aerial sea above us — a gem of lustrous ruby.
Then the splendour faded, and the shades of
evening came, lending a soft mystery to the scene,
and behind the wooded hills the young unclouded
moon arose, forming a lane of moving light upon
the rippling waters and silvering the quivering
foliage on the banks. The solemn beauty of that
night, the hushed repose, the soft and soothing influ-
ences of the place and hour, raised in us emotions
not to be expressed in words.
204 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
CHAPTER XIII.
Unpromising Weather— Judging Scenery from Maps— Peculiarities of
the Rothay and the Brathay— -Weather Effects— Hawkshead— Old
Chm-chyards— Coniston— The Old Man— Ancient Hills— Tarns-
Unfinished Scenery— Valley of Tilberthwaite— A Fine Ravine—
Langdale Tarn— An Artist at Work— Blea Tarn— Wild Scenery—
The Langdale Pikes— Dungeon Gill— A Stony Stage— A Steep
Hill— Grasmere— Photography in Colours— A Curiously-shaped
Hill— Helm Crag— A Fine Torrent— Unseen Sceneiy— A Cairn—
An Epitaph to a Horse— Wythburn— A Grand Valley— Famous
Scenery not always the most beautiful.
It was fortunate we were in such comfortable
quarters, for our first inspection of the weather next
morning from our window was anything but pro-
mising or inspiriting. We looked out upon a grey
day with pouring rain. Gone was all the wonderful
colouring of woods, hills, and mountains ; in fact,
their existence had to be taken for granted, for they
were blotted altogether out by low-lying mists and
slanting lines of rain, and the lake was all of a dark
leaden hue, save where, now and again, a gust of
wind formed on its surface a long line of white. It
was not a lively picture, and the measured splash,
splash, splash, of the rain on the wet roadway did
not tend to cheer us. After breakfast we went
round to inspect our horses, and then there was
nothing else to do but watch the steady downpour,
and hope almost against hope that it would clear off.
Somehow our roving life had made us restless ; it
TRAVELLING LN BAD WEATLLER. 205
had unsettled us ; we were spoilt by the continual
change of scene, and now we were impatient of
even a day's delay, anxious to be off ' to fresh
fields and pastures new.' About noon, however,
matters mended ; a suspicion of pale yellow in the
W^est caused us to hope ; the clouds began to lift,
and for a moment through a rift in them a sunbeam
struggled athwart the gloom, brightening up in a
wonderful manner a bit of wet hill-side opposite
which now was visible ; then another o-leam came
and went, and another, and the grey masses of
vapour began to roll slowly upwards, the hill-tops
now and again becoming quite clear. The air, too,
had a drier feeling, and for a time the rain ceased.
No sooner had the much wished for. though hardly
expected, change occurred, than we took heart of
grace, and ordered the horses to be ' put to ' without
delay. It might, indeed, it most probably would,
soon recommence to rain, but what cared we ?
Somehow we never minded the weather when once
on the road, but we had a most decided objection
to starting in the wet — that was too dismal a pro-
ceeding. Besides, we had found from experience
that by mounting in the rain we were apt to get
very moist before starting, whilst, on the other hand,
once seated in the phaeton, our ulsters donned and
our waterproofs and wraps securely packed around
us, the weather might do its worst for aught it could
harm us.
Till just before starting we had no idea as to
where our next stage would be ; a glance at the
map whilst our horses were being harnessed caused
2o6 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
us to select Coniston as our next destination, it
appearing- within easy distance, and the road to it
to pass through a picturesque country. You may
exclaim, how could we possibly tell what a country
would be like by simply looking at a map ! And
there is some reason in the question, for certainly at
first blush it appears supremely ridiculous to judge
of scenery from a reduced Ordnance Survey map
(for such was ours) ; but in reality it is by no means
so ridiculous as it seems. The shading of the hills,
the lay of the valleys, the woods and forests marked
out, the streams and rivers, the lakes and tarns, the
villages and towns, either by their presence or
absence, give to one with some little idea of the
country a very fair groundwork upon which to
guess the sort of scenery likely to be met with. Of
course some experience of maps and roadwork is
necessary to form a judgment.
It was fine when we started. The lowering
clouds around looked somewhat threatening, although
giving evident signs of breaking up, bright patches
of blue sky appearing here and there. Rain there
might be, but it would be only showers we guessed
— heavy ones, possibly, but not likely to be lasting
— so we drove away from our hotel in excellent
spirits after all. Leaving Low Wood, our road
skirted the head of the lake, and we crossed the
two little rivers of the Rothay and the Brathay.
These two streams vary much in character : the
Rothay has a sandy bed, the Brathay a rocky one ;
a short distance before entering the lake they unite
and enter it as one stream. Connected with these
WIND AND RAIN. 207
two rivers is a rather remarkable ichthyological
fact : the char and trout from Windermere durincr
the spawning season proceed together as far as the
junction of these two streams, when they separate,
the char, without exception, taking to the Brathay
and the trout to the Rothay.
Leaving Windermere, our road soon began to
mount, and we passed through dripping fir woods,
and the wind, as it rose, sighed and moaned through
the trees and dashed the wet from off them in
showers of spray upon us as it swayed the branches
about backwards and forwards, and now and then
a fir-cone was blown ri^^ht into the carriasfe. Great
clouds, rounded and drooping with rain, drove by us
overhead, to be caught by the mountains and con-
densed on them in fierce showers. We luckily
escaped the worst of these, though now and again
we got a heavy pclter, which put our waterproofs to
the test ; but, though sharp, they were short and
soon over, and as the sun came out once more, the
wet rocks glistened in the light, and the pools in the
road shone forth gleaming like molten silver, and
the soft west wind — that pleasantest wind of all —
greeted us with its soft, moist embrace. It is a
strange reversal of affairs in America, in which
country the west wind comes over the dry alkali
plains, and the east wind from off the Atlantic, con-
sequently there the east wind is the soft rainy one,
and the west and north-west winds the harsh, dry,
disagreeable ones.
The isolated ^deams of lis^ht we had Qave stranee
prominence to little bits of far-off scenery, lighting
2o8 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
Up a fall on the hill-side, a bright whitewashed
cottage, a corner of a wood, &c., when all around
was in sombre shade and undefined. What a charm
there is on a gloomy day in watching a trail of sun-
light wandering: over hill and dale, restino; a moment
on a bit of still water, brightening up the scene in
a wonderful manner, now making a miniature rain-
bow out of a stray mist cloud that hangs on the
mountain slopes. It is such days that make us ap-
preciate the sunshine when we get it.
I cannot agree with those people who deem a
day wretched and the landscape devoid of all beauty
only because there is not a clear blue sky overhead ;
a cloudless, glaring sky is intolerable. Ask an
artist his opinion on the subject. Once upon a time
a friend of Ruskin's called upon him, and on being
shown by the latter a little picture, by Copley Field-
ing, of distant hills and driving rain, of which the
owner was very proud, asked, ' What is the use of
painting such very bad weather ?' to which query
Ruskin replied, ' There was no such thing as bad
weather, only different kinds of weather.' Wan-
dering mists and ever-changing clouds lend a feeling
of mystery and solemnity to the landscape, and
without mystery no scene or picture is quite perfect ;
something must be left for the imagination or it will
never be satisfied.
At the little town or village of Hawkshead,
though it was getting late, we descended and strolled
up to the churchyard for the sake of the view, which
is very fine from there ; and as we walked across it
we passed by many a nameless, unremembered grave.
AN INN GARDEN. 209
We noticed some lialf-erased tombstones erected to
the memory of those gone long ago, stones over-
grown with mosses and long lank grasses, old monu-
ments crumbling to decay, and rank weeds battening
over the remains of poor humanity.
Quitting sleepy Hawkshead (famous for being
the school-home of Wordsworth, but for nothing
else, as far as I am aware), at the corner of two roads
we noticed an old gateway and beyond a farmhouse,
a building with stone-mullioned windows, and which
had evidently seen better days ; in fact, we learned
afterwards it had originally been built by the monks
of Furncss Abbey, to whom it belonged, and who
held here their manor courts and formed a kind of
educational college for priests of it.
From this point to Coniston the road descends
with considerable steepness, affording imposing views
of the lake of that name and the Old Man mountain
at the head of it. Down in the valley far below,
through the straight stems of the firs, half hidden
by the woods, now wholly revealed through a clear-
ing in the same, lay that fair sheet of water, looking
at that hour of a cold steely hue.
The Waterhead at Coniston is a most comfortable
hostelrie, with pleasant gardens bordering the lake,
and possessing cool-shaded walks between over-
hanging shrubs and trees (just the spot for honey-
mooners). Would all such countr)- inns had such
delightful gardens ! One of the greatest charms of a
rural hostel is to me a good garden — an old-fashioned
one preferred — where you can wander unmolested
about after your day's stage is done, and enjoy the
P
2IO A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
fragrant weed and meditate about things in general
and the pleasures of driving tours in particular.
Coniston is by no means a bad sort of a place in
which to spend a few days, and the country about
well repays exploring. In a scenic point of view
the situation of the village is fine, otherwise in itself
it is in no way remarkable. I wonder this corner
of the Lake District is not more visited than it is ;
the scenery at the head of the lake is of the grandest
description, and the shape of the Old Man mountain
is eminently dignified, I think I prefer it to any-
other English peak, it stands out so boldly by itself;
its outline is sharp and serrated, and its height is
not dwarfed by sudden comparisons with other near
rivals ; in fact, it is all a mountain should be, unless
indeed you would have it higher. But height alone
is not everything ; the highest mountains are by
no means the most impressive, Mont Blanc, it is
true, is of greater elevation than any British peak ;
but again, the peaks of the Himalayas considerably
exceed it ; and if it be true, as some astronomers
say, that Venus has mountains over twenty miles in
height, then the Himalayas are dwarfs to these. But,
on the other hand, the mountains of Cumberland
come of the most ancient stock ; they are amongst
the oldest in the world, and existed countless ages
before the Alps, the Andes, or the Himalayas arose
from out the plains, all of which, compared to our
good old English mountains, are of mushroom pa-
rentage. Genuine aristocrats are our native peaks.
We remained over the next day at the Waterhead
Hotel, devoting our time to the surrounding scenery
TARNS, 211
and to mounting the Old Man, which, though not a
severe cHmb as mountain cHmbing goes, is an ex-
ceedingly grand one, and the view from the summit
of the sea of hills stretching far away as the eye can
reach, of lakes and black little tarns, would amjoly
have rc;paid double the exertion. About a third of
the way up the ascent there are some extensive
copper mines and some half-deserted slate quarries,
which detract somewhat from the romance of the
spot. Shortly after leaving these we came suddenly
and unexpectedly upon a sight quite of a different
sort, a lonely rock-girt tarn — a black, stilly, inky-
looking pool hemmed in by stern wall-like ramparts.
How characteristic these Cumberland tarns are ! Is
there anything quite like them, I wonder, elsewhere ?
From the sides of this small sheet of water rose
dark, gloomy, precipitous cliffs, slate-coloured and of
a cold, forbidding hue, and at the feet of which were
masses of stony ddbris. How calm, too, is the surface
of a tarn — even an insect alighting upon it causes
tiny circles plainly observable ! Here we saw a sight
in keeping with the weird look of the place, a dead
sheep ' rock bound ' or ' rock fast,' as it is locally
called — that is, the poor animal has got his feet
jammed in between the crevices of the fallen rocks,
and has failed to release himself; no one beinof near
to hear his cries, the unfortunate creature must have
been starved to death. Such occurrences, we were
told, were not unfrequent ; farmers of the mountain
pastures always allow for a certain percentage of their
llocks being thus lost to them. We made a hasty
sketch of this impressive spot, introducing the poor
p 2
212 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
dead sheep, only for effect we drew an eagle high
overhead just preparing to swoop down upon his prey.
Although the artist can so easily place one in his
picture, eagles are extremely scarce articles in Great
Britain ; even in the wildest and most remote dis-
tricts of the North of Scotland they are a great
rarity ; the more extraordinary, therefore, is it that
some few years ago a tourist was attacked on this
very mountain by a golden eagle. The said tourist
had only a stick to defend himself with, and once
actually the bird got within his guard. After a
quarter of an hour's conflict the eagle sailed, baffled,
away, to the great relief of his adversary.
We descended from the summit of the Old Man by
a different route to that which we took in ascending,
and this landed us in a moorland solitude — a wilder-
ness of mighty rocks and boulders — which lay scat-
tered about in all directions and of all imaginable
shapes and sizes, a desolate stone-strewn waste,
where even the hardy mosses had a hard struggle
to exist :
The eye can only see
Broken mass of cold grey stone :
Never yet was place so lone.
Such a sight carries one mentally back to the dim
far, far ages past, when this wreck of an incompleted
world was caused by the gigantic forces then at
work. In most parts the rocks, or at any rate the
exposed surfaces of them, have become disintegrated
by time and the weathering of ages, and turned to
fruitful soil, and vegetation has hidden the bare ribs
of the earth and the scars caused by the workings
A STEAM GONDOLA. 213
of the rude forces now extinct ; not so, however, here.
A foreign gentleman on a tour in these parts, and
who was staying at our hotel, one morning went out
for a long walk, and in the course of his rambles
reached this spot. On his return, the landlord asked
him how far he had been. ' As far as the scenery
is finished,' the stranger replied.
Coniston Lake is navigated by a steam gondola,
quite a pretty vessel in its way. It was a positive
pleasure to see this graceful little steamer on its
voyage ; in fact, it enhanced rather than detracted
from the beauty of the scene. We took a sail up
and down the lake in it, and found it a most com-
fortable boat, there being a sheltered protection in
case of wet weather, with ample windows to enable
the traveller to view the scenery. This would seem
to me to show that there is no special reason why
modern inventions should so generally be such ugly
creations. Given the materials, it is not more diffi-
cult or more expensive, or only very slightly more
so, to shape them into pleasant models as ugly ones.
Heavy clouds with frequent showers, and a fall-
ing barometer, did not promise well for a fine clay.
However, as it did not actually rain at the hour we
had arranged to start, we duly proceeded on our
way in spite of the unpromising weather prospects.
Shortly after leaving Coniston, to the left of our
road we had some fine crag scenery extending right
along the base of the Wetherlam cone of the mighty
buttresses of the Old Man. Presently we turned
to the left up the fine valley of Tilberthwaite, one
of the lesser known but, to my mind, one of the
214 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
most beautiful of the vales of this district. The
view looking up the entrance to this dale is very
fine, and is eminently suggestive of grand scenery.
Some way along the valley, at some distance from
the road, we noticed a deep and dark looking cleft
or ravine right down the mountain side ; this ap-
peared to us as though it might repay inspection.
So we called a halt and proceeded to clamber to the
spot, which amply repaid us for the trouble.
We found it to consist oi a narrow gorge, per-
haps forty feet or so across, from the bottom of
which rose beetling cliffs on either hand, and adown
it a little stream tumbled and foamed amongst the
rocks. A small foot-bridge at the entrance to the
spot assists the pedestrian to cross the miniature
torrent, and a couple of rough ladders help him to
surmount some steep rocks on the other side ; after
these he must overcome the natural difficulties and
obstacles as best he may. We learnt that the bridge
and the ladders were erected by some miners, who
found through this gorge a short way to their work
on the hills above. Except to the miners aforesaid
and to the local shepherds, this remarkable place
appears to be but little known, and is seldom or
ever visited by the tourist. Indeed, we could dis-
cover no mention of it in any guide-book, though
we afterwards searched carefully through several for
that purpose.
Our road to-day was not only a grand one, but
it had the quality of continually surprising us with
unexpected scenes. Given grand natural scenery,
and the imagination in a continual and delightful state
RAVINE (TIl.nF-RTHWAn E VAI.l.lv).
A LONESOME VALLEY. 215
of expectancy, the unknown ever before )oli, the
possibiHties are great, ideas and fancies have free
play, and the enjoyment is tenfold greater than when
the opposite is the case.
We continued up this fine lonesome valley with-
out meeting or seeing a single soul till we came
in sight of Langdale Tarn, and the only sounds we
heard were the bleating of sheep, the far-off cry of
the shepherd, and the barking of his dog. Near to
the tarn we came upon an artist busily at work. We
were much pleased with his picture, which was an
excellent and a poetical representation of the spot.
In it he had introduced some cattle, and, though
evidently a skilful and practised landscape painter,
animals were certainly not his forte. Gathering, I
presume from my remarks, that I understood some
little about painting, he asked me my candid opinion
of his picture, and I gave it him. Candour is, how-
ever, not always esteemed in this world. As far as
the praise and blame were given to the landscape
all went well, but when I told him what really
appeared to me to be the case — viz. that the cattle
spoiled the composition, being very woodeny and ap-
pearing immaculately clean — my criticism, however
true, possibly just because it was so true, was not
appreciated. Artists too often neglect to represent
the mud and dirt that everywhere exist in this im-
perfect world. Only lately I saw a rather famous
picture of a battle-field, in which the men who were
supposed to have been fighting the whole of the
day, and moreover, according to history,- had had a
severe forced march the day before, actually looked
as though tlu'}- had onl)- just marched from off the
2i6 A DRH'E THROUGH ENGLAND.
parade ground, so prim and clean and neat were
they. Such pictures, whatever their other merits,
are not true to Nature.
Our road now commenced to ascend, and it be-
came exceedingly rough as well as steep ; and as we
walked up it to relieve the horses, we found it
very wet besides. The rain of the previous night
had well soaked into the surrounding peaty surface
and oozed and trickled from it, making innumerable
tiny streams and puddles in the road through which
we had to tramp. Wordsworth thus describes this
portion of the country ; it appears there was no
made road here in his time, or at any rate he did
not adhere to it, and wisely too if it were then as
rough as now :
We scaled, without a track to ease our steps,
A steep ascent ; and reached a dreary plain,
With a tumultuous waste of huge hill-tops
Before us ; savage region ! which I paced
Dispirited.
Savage indeed it is, with rocks in chaos strewn
around^ — a spot where nought of life is to be seen,
a spot that impresses you, whether you will or not,
with its supreme solitude, its utter desolation, its
intense stillness ; environed on all sides by rugged
mountains, between which are darksome vales, you
might almost imagine yourself in a primeval world.
At the top of this long ascent we come to the lonely
Blea Tarn in a little upland vale :
Uplifted high
Among the mountains, even as if the spot
Had been, from eldest time by wish of theirs,
So placed, — to be shut out from all the world !
From here we had a fine view of the Langdale
A RUGGED LANDSCAPE. 217
Pikes — two bare, finely-shaped peaks ' that from
another vale peer into this.' Nowhere in England
has the eloom and <>Tandeur of mountains been so
deeply fixed in my mind.
The day was perfect for the scene — a wild, gre)-
clouded sky overhead, with shrouding mists lower
down which wound round the hills, ever lifting and fall-
ing, now hiding all, now being swept right away by
the fierce winds, torn by them from the hill-sides.
We had been sheltered during our ascent to this spot,
but now we felt the full force of the winds as they
careered by us with an unrestrained fury ; fortunatel)',
it did not actually rain, though it threatened to do
so every moment. The rugged Langdales looked
stern and forbidding under a dark storm-cloud, and
down their dark, weathered, gullied, sides how the
torrents foamed, white in their rage, and gathering
strength from the dispersing clouds above !
It was a grand sight ; but, grand though it was,
we stayed not long to witness it. Any moment we
might be in the midst of a deluge, and we deemed
it prudent to hurry away from such an inhospitable
part of the country. From all around came to us
a strange melody of roaring cataracts and moaning
winds, mingled now and again with the plaintive
bleating of a sheep (possibly ' rock-fast '), whose
voice was plainly heard over all. With brake hard
on and horses well awa)' from the pole we made
the best speed we could down a very hilly, stony
road or track. It was too great a stretch of the
imagination to call such a way a road. Fortunately,
we arrived in safety at the bottom, though not with-
out one or two nasty stumbles that might have
2i8 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
caused a serious accident, or at any rate have ruined
one if not both of our steeds, and have brought our
journey to a sudden and disastrous termination.
However, ' all's well that ends well,' and our horses
and carriage were none the worse for the badness
of the way. At the foot of the hill we found our-
selves at the head of the Great Langdale valley.
Here we drove up to the Dungeon Gill Hotel, situ-
ated right at the foot of the Pikes, and no sooner
had we betaken ourselves under its hospitable roof
than down came the rain in right good earnest, the
windows of the inn shaking again with the fierceness
of the blast ; and we mutually congratulated each
other we were not upon that exposed mountain road.
After a time — the storm having vented the worst of
its anger, and the rain holding off for a little — we
sallied forth to see the sight of the place, Dungeon
Gill, at which we arrived after about a twenty
minutes' climb, or rather wade, along a stony path
which the heavy rain had very successfully converted
into a temporary watercourse. Dungeon Gill is a
well-known spot, so I need only remark that it con-
sists of a deep fissure in the mountain side, at the
extreme end of which is a waterfall, and overhead
two large rocks have fallen so as to form a rude
bridge. It has been described by Wordsworth
tersely as follows : —
There is a spot which you may see
If ever you to Langdale go.
Into a chasm a mighty block
Hath fall'n, and made a bridge of rock :
The gulf is deep below,
And in a basin black and small
Receives a lofty waterfall.
A STORMY STAGE. 219
The fall, some hundred feet in height, was not
considerable even on the day we saw it, and
therefore in dry weather we concluded it would be
insignificant. The rock scenery of the ravine is,
however, fine. Wordsworth relates that upon one
occasion a lamb fell from the top of the crags into
the caldron of the fall below without hurt — a rather
marvellous accomplishment.
We had a wet drive on to Grasmere that
evening, but for all the rain it had its beauties.
Every now and again the clouds would break away
and reveal a stormy sunset, a fiery red, the tints of
which were reflected on the clouds and mountains
in a wonderful manner, and the river and pools of
water on our way were turned into glowing bits of
orange. Such a sunset, if actually painted as we
saw it, would, I fear, stand a very poor chance of
getting hung upon the \valls of the Academy ; and
yet no colouring, however powerful, could possibly
convey the gorgeous effects we witnessed. Then
the clouds would once more gather up, close their
ranks, the red fire beyond would be blotted out, all
colour w ould be gone, and w-e poor wanderers left
disconsolately driving through a cold, grey, and a
very wet world. What a transition ! The wet was
very real, and very disagreeable as well, and we
hurried along as fast as the roads would allow us to
do so, for not only was the w'ay rough but it was
hilly, besides having many nasty turns, all of which
had to be carefully negotiated ; and as the darkness
grew apace, extra caution was necessary to prevent
any mishap.
A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
I low it rained that nieht ! The roads Hterall
£>
ran with water, and our wheels sloughed through
the moisture with a depressing sound ; but in spite
of the beating rain, the darkness, and the general
discomfiture, we were very jolly — recklessly merry
even, as though to prove nothing could possibly damp
our spirits. We would, of course, infinitely have
preferred to have had a fine evening, but as such
was not in store for us, we determined that, come
what might, nothing should spoil even for a short
moment the enjoyment of our trip. We had laid
up already such a supply of health and strength,
such a delightful store of pleasant memories and
sunny scenes, we could well afford to laugh at the
weather, although it seemed determined to make
itself especially disagreeable that night. Before
arriving at our destination we had a terrible hill to
descend — Red Bank by name — and the wet caused
our brake to slip, so we were obliged to tie up our
wheels to keep the phaeton from running on our
horses ; and we were well pleased when we saw
the welcome lights of Grasmere gleaming before us
through the rain and mist. We drove up to the
first hotel we came to — the Rothay, if I remember
correctly — in which we were soon comfortably en-
sconced, indulging in a warm cheerful fire, for it
was cold and raw that evening.
At Grasmere we stayed over a couple of days,
devoting our time to sketching and taking pedestrian
excursions in the neighbourhood. Here we made
the acquaintance of a gentleman, an inmate of the
hotel — an amateur photographer, and a capital one
PLEASURES OE PHOTOGRAPHY. 221
too. He had the merit few photographers have,
amateur or otherwise, of having^ an artist's eye for
the picturesque, and consequently he selected with
great care and judgment the spot in which to [Mtch
his camera. His photographs of scenery were some
of the best I have ever seen, the nearest approach
to pictures in black and white I have beheld pro-
duced solely by the aid of a lens, though they were
far behind even the slightest sketch of an accom-
plished artist, having, of course, no expression or
feeling, no suggestion even of mystery. However
skilful the operator may be, a camera is only a
mechanical affair after all, and mechanical work and
hand work produce very different results.
We soon struck up a friendship, and I was per-
mitted to go with the photographer in the evening
to a dark room he had rigged up and watch the
development of the dry plates. It was very in-
teresting to observe the different features of each
scene gradually emerging from out of the chaos
upon the glass, wondering what each would turn
out, for amongst the number taken during the day
my friend knew as little as I did what the subject
of each was, they had all got so mixed up. A
dark spot we made sure at first would prove to be
a mountain, and another a bridge — would possibly
turn out the very opposite of what we imagined ;
the mountain, perchance, eventually proving to be
simply an old cottage and the bridge some shrubs.
Sometimes, indeed, the plates would be upside
down, and we would go on developing them in
happy ignorance of the fact, puzzling our brains at
222 J DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
the curious effect of the landscape till we disco-
vered the mistake. Of course in negatives, as is
well known, the whites and darks are reversed ; a
white cloud will tell out black, and a dark building
shows light, so it is not a little puzzling to an inex-
perienced eye at once to gather the meaning of a
negative. I spent quite an enjoyable evening in
that cupboard in the midst of chemicals and plates.
I am afraid we spent the best part of the night
developing the photographs, &c. Some were utter
failures ; some very poor affairs, the results of either
too long or too short exposures ; the rest unqualified
successes. It appeared to me every third plate w^as
satisfactory — I presume not a bad result, all things
considered. My new acquaintance was a most
enthusiastic photographer, and informed me as a
startling fact that another brother amateur, a friend
of his in London, had actually discovered the secret
of taking photographs in natural colours. Seeing
my look of astonishment at this extraordinary news,
I was, of course, too polite to say I could hardly
credit the statement. He said when in town he
would with pleasure take me to call upon the indi-
vidual in question, and show me the results of his
experiments, so that I might judge the facts for
myself. Moreover, he further surprised me by
stating his friend had actually succeeded in photo-
graphing the rainbow with all its wonderful com-
bination of colours. We exchanged cards, and he
promised to call upon me on my return home.
Alas ! the call was never made, and I somehow lost
my friend's card ; and tliough I remembered his
A rECULlAR HILL. 223
name well cnoiii^h, T could never recall his initials or
his address : and I fear if I was to set to work to
unearth this especial Mr. Smith out of tlie great
world of London I should have my work cut out,
and so I have heard no more about the wonderful
discovery of colour photography.
Leaving Grasmere, the road to Keswick at once
begins to mount somewhat steeply to Dunmail
Raise, a curious dip in the mountains, and a very
convenient one too for the traveller. To the left
of us rose the rugged and curiously shaped Helm
Crag, a hill the exposed and lightning-riven summit
or summits of whicli is strewn with many shattered
rocks flung all about in the wildest confusion. This
mountain is conspicuous, not so much for its mere
height as for its strangely contorted outline, in the
which imagination may conjure up the likeness to
almost any figure or figures it chooses. Words-
worth speaks of —
The ancient woman sealed on Helm Crag,
and gives her for a companion an astrologer, the
' Sage Sidrophel ' —
Dread pair that in spite of wind and weather
Still sit upon Helm Crag together 1
Almost endless, indeed, are the comparisons this
singularly-shaped hill have given rise to. For our-
selves we could see only a giant's face with pro-
minent nose and an open mouth making a feast of
the bare rocks beneath. Doubtless everyone who
notices this remarkable crag (and one could hardly
pass it by unnoticed) will picture for himself some
2 24 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
special resemblance, fanciful or real. From differ-
ent portions of the road the outlines vary, so there
is plent)- of scope for the imagination. Besides
Wordsworth's old woman and astrologer, the two
most famous and popular resemblances are the lion
and the lamb, and the old lady at the piano. The
latter, we were told, for some unaccountable reason,
is the special favourite of the local guides, coach-
men, and drivers. Now and then, however, you
may meet with an original one who has his own
special ideas on the subject.
Alongside of our road a fine torrent descended,
which came down in grand style along its bould-
ered bed ; it is well worth while stopping on the
mount now and again to inspect this. How few
tourists do!
At the top of this long ascent is a large cairn, or
heap of stones, said to mark the spot where was
interred the body of Dunmail, King of Cumbria,
who was defeated here about the year a.d. 946 by
the Saxon sovereign Edmund I., who ignobly slew
his vanquished adversary, and barbarously ordered
the eyes of his two sons to be put out.
They now have reached that pile of stones,
Heaped over brave King Dunmail's bones ;
- He who once held supreme command,
Last king of rocky Cumberland.
His bones and those of all his power
Slain here in a disastrous hour.
The heap of stones, considerable even now, was
much more extensive in the days gone by. Un-
fortunately, in olden times, when scant reverence
w^as shown to old relics of any kind, it was much
GRAND SCENERY. 225
lessened by quantities of stones being taken from it
to keep the adjoining roads in repair.
After leaving the cairn, some distance further
along we noticed a hewn stone erected by the way-
side, on which we noticed an inscription to a
favourite horse deceased, ' whose only fault,' we
were informed, ' was dying.' It appears that the
animal in question met with his death opposite this
spot. Soon after this the little Nag's Head Inn
and tiny church of \Vythl:urn were reached. Here
the scenery is very fine, the mighty buttresses and
slopes of Helvellyn rising abruptly from the valley.
The summit of the mountain is, however, not visible.
The little inn here is a favourite starting place for
the ascent of that peak. All around is on a grand
scale ; Nature is a magnificent builder. How di-
minutive appeared the humble inn and primitive
church compared to the Titanic surroundings ! Vast
crags towered boldly overhead, some shattered,
others of strange shapes, the mighty mountain
slopes being channelled and gullied, much rent and
weather-worn, and strewn with fragments of the
rocks above. It was a scene of savage beauty.
As we continued on our way, the scenery well
maintained its grandeur ; but the best points of view
were not from the road, but from spots a little dis-
tance from the same on either side of it. To
thoroughly understand and appreciate the beauties
of the scenery, it was necessary to stop from time to
time and prospect about for a favourable vantage-
ground. Not only are better and more comprehen-
sive views thus obtained, but fresh and origfinal
Q
226 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
peeps of well-known places are likewise often dis-
covered, and in searching for these you may chance
unexpectedly to alight upon many minor scenes oi
great beauty quite unknown to the general traveller,
the treasure-trove of the artist and the lover of
Nature. Such are often more pleasing than grander
scenes ; the most famous scenery is not of necessity
the most beautiful. Go through any picture gallery,
the choicest specimens of landscape work, as a rule,
are not those of known places. Nature carefully
hides her gems and choicest wares. Many a tiny
glen, a remote, unheeded waterfall, a secluded rocky
retreat have we discovered at various times, un-
known to guide-books, guides, and those who
follow or who are led by them.
227
CHAPTER XIV.
Mountains and Mists — Tliirlemcre — A Neglected Lake — Fine Crag
Scenery — Keswick — Portinscale — St. Herbert's Isle — A Glorious
Morning — Dr. Syntax's Destination — A Historical Spot — We Pur-
chase a Picture just finished — Grange — The Bowder Stone — A
Wild Valley — Our Ancestors' Opinions about Mountains — Solemn
Yews — The Birthplace of Storms— Honistcr Crag and Pass —
Caught in a Hailstorm — Dangerous Torrents — Freebooters — Bad
Roads and Rough Travelling— Buttermere and its Tradition —
Grand Amphitheatre of Mountains — Evening amongst the Hills.
As we drove along that grand upland valley be-
neath the shadow of the mighty Helvellyn, the cloud
effects were very fine. There were low-lying white
masses of vapour trailing along the hill-sides, through
which in places the distant peaks showed in dreamy,
dim, uncertain forms. And from out of the clouds,
dashing headlong downwards, bounding joyously
like things of life, came many a milk-white stream,
and now and again a torrent made its hoarse com-
plainings heard. As the vapours slowly rose and
parted, they afforded us many a fanciful and un-
expected peep of the craggy sides of the moun-
tains beyond. What a feeling of freedom these
wild torrents and leaping streams give as they urge
along their impetuous way, now overlapping in
their haste the impeding boulders, ever bounding
onwards with nothing to stop their progress till at
last they reach their haven in the all-absorbing sea!
The loud o-uro-lincT of these streams was in full har-
O e> O
Q 2
228 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
mony with the scene. The stillness that otherwise
prevailed around was only emphasized by the sounds
of the falling waters.
It was one of those uncertain days, half inclined
to storm and rain, and half inclined to be sunny and
bright, ever changing between the two, and the
changes afforded us beautiful effects ; the bright
gleams of light revealing every hollow fissure, seam,
and rent on the bare hill-sides, the results of endless
storm.s of countless ages past. How invigorating
and tonic was the light, vitalizing air ! Everything
around conveyed to us the idea of unlimited freedom :
the wild, bare, fenceless mountains, the clouds gather-
ing on their summits, wanderers from afar from off
the wild Atlantic resting only after their journey,
the hurrying winds, the raging torrents — all was
movement, life, uncontrolled liberty. Man has not
subdued the mountains yet ! Thirlemere presently
came into sight. Alas ! poor lake ; the Manchester
people have planned to turn it into a huge reservoir,
and may possibly spoil its beauties. Moorlands
seem to me specially intended to act as great water
catchers and holders. The spongy and peaty soil
absorbs large quantities of moisture and retains it.
There is nothing above the moors but the heavens,
so the water could never in any way become con-
taminated. Thirlemere is the highest of the lakes,
and its elevated position has tempted the engineers
to utilize it for the benefit of the Manchester people^
Thirlemere too is a case in point of the necessity
— if you would really know a spot — of stopping and
leisurely inspecting and exploring it ; and here comes
A SURPRISING ROAD. 229
tlic supreme advantage of having full control over
your conveyance. A ramble by the lake sides, both
east and west shores, reveals many exquisite and
unexpected bits and grand views, hardly to be
imagined by those who simply see this sheet of
water from merely driving by. The shadows of the
overhanging cliffs and hills give the clear waters a
dark look, the scenery on its borders being exceed-
ingly fine. Eagle Crag is a capital specimen of
what a precipice should be, and there is another one
at the lower end, the Ravens' Crag, equally grand
and picturesque.
At the King's Head Inn, at Smeathwaite Bridge,
we baited our horses and made our mid-day halt.
There iis some fine sketching-ground about here,
and this little inn, it appears to me, would make a
capital artists' head-quarters.
Soon after leavinij Smeathwaite the road beo^ins
to mount, and crosses a boggy country, devoid of
interest ; but the scenic beauties are only held in
reserve for the delight of the traveller who may not
have journeyed this way before, and not know what
is in store for him. I envy anyone a first drive on
this road. Well do I remember the delightful sur-
prise it gave me — a surprise never to be forgotten.
There are, as far as my experience goes, few roads
in England that so suddenly, and without any sug-
gestions of the good things coming, reveal such a
magnificent prospect ns this does, as it turns an
anole in its descent into the far-famed Dcrwent-
water valley. It is a matchless prospect; down
below you lies the tranquil lake, with its wooded
A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
islands environed on all sides by finely-shaped
mountains and richly-timbered slopes — a view to
be seen, but not to be described or painted. Gray
declared, on leaving Derwentwater by this road,
as he accidentally turned round on this spot, he
was so charmed with it, ' that I had almost a mind
to eo back acrain.'
The town of Keswick is not upon the lake shore,
it Is some little way inland. It was so busy that
afternoon with coming and departing tourists,
coaches leaving and arriving, that we concluded
to drive right through the place, on the chance of
finding quieter and more countrified quarters at
Portinscale, a pleasant litde village just beyond
Keswick, a sort of west-end to the town. Keswick
is a homely-looking place, not picturesque, certainly,
but one can forgive its plainness on account of the
beauty of its surroundings. There are several pencil
manufacturers here, which make up the blacklead or
plumbago from the Borrowdale mines into those
useful articles ; and as we passed through a pleasant
odour of cedar-wood came to us now and again ; in
fact, one writer has called it 'the cedar-scented
town.'
At the inn at Pordnscalc we found capital ac-
commodation, and in the evening we indulged in
a row. Of all the lakes I know anywhere, to my
mind Derwentwater is the most beautiful ; perfect
in form, it is almost an oval, being three miles long
by one and a half mi'e in breadth. It is not so small
as to be insignificant, nor large enough (as some of
the Scotch lochs) as to be a parody on the sea. The
AN ANCHORITE OF OLD. 231
mountains around are Ijold in outline, and luxuriously
wooded at their feet ; they are hii^h enough to be
grand, yet they do not belittle the lake. Moreover,
it has one especial quality — the mountains at the
foot of it are bold and high ; thus, from ev(Ty point
of the lake, looking both up and down, there is
a fine prospect. Generally, almost always as far as
I can remember, the mountains degenerate towards
the foot of all lakes to unpicturesque heights or
lowlands. Then the islands are happily placed, are
pleasing in form, and well wooded. Moreover, there
is no steamer on the lake to mar its tranquil love-
liness. Long may it remain steamerless ! Launch-
ing our substantial bark (an old tub, my wife con-
temptuously called it) upon the lake, we rowed to
the famed St. Herbert's Isle, and landed there. This
island derives its name from a holy anchorite who
here had his cell. St. Cuthbert, of Durham, and
he were great friends, and the lonel)- hermit, on his
solitary island, prayed that when St. Cuthbert died
he too might expire.
Nor in vain
So pray'd he — as our chronicles report,
Though here the hermit ended his last day,
Far from St. Cuthbert, his beloved friend —
Those lioly men both died in the same hour.
After his death Mass used to be said in a chapel
erected on the island, for which attendance a forty
days' indulgence was granted. As we rowed home-
wards, the West was all aglow with the setting sun,
against which tlie mountains showed a dark purple-
grey. The golden light of the sky, reflected on the
stilly lake, turned it too to gold ; but quickly the
232 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
gold departed, and, as we wended our way back, we
chanced to look upwards. The evening star had
risen behind Skiddaw's looming height ; then the
sky gradually darkened, the lake became silver, the
tiny light of the pale star trembled on its rippled
surface, and, in a half-mournful cadence, from the
southern shore came the musical sounds of the falling
waters of the cataract of Lodore.
Next morning was a delightful one ; a bright
blue sky was overhead, flecked only with the light-
est summer clouds ; warm sunshine there was, but
tempered by a pleasant breeze ; Nature everywhere
was looking her gayest and brightest. The regular
road to Borrowdale and Lodore was on the other
side of the lake, and by it all the tourists go. This
was enough for us not to patronize it if there were
another way, and our map showed us there was
a road on our side of Derwentwater ; and although
the ostler assured us it was a rough and hilly one,
and not half as good as the other (which was ' beauti-
fully level '), we selected, to his astonishment, the
uneven way. It turned out to be all the ostler said
— rough, narrow, and hilly — but its very hilliness
afforded us extensive views, and delightful prospects
of the lake, as it wound along the sides of the Cat
Bells — the curiously-shaped hills that bound the lake
on this side ; and in places there was no fence or
protection of any kind between us and the steep
descent into the water, and, as the road was narrow,
and our side of it was the precipitous one, we were
not sorry tliat we had it to ourselves. It must not
be foreotten that Derwentwater was the destination
A PURCHASE. 233
of that famous traveller in search of the pic-
turesque, Dr. Syntax. Across the lake we had a
fine view of Lord's Island, which at one time con-
tained the residence of the ill-fated P'^arl of Derwent-
water, and beyond it of Wallow Crag, throui^h a
ravine in which (called to this day the Lady's Rake
— rake being the local term for a hollow) the countess
escaped in 1715, carrying with her all her valuable
jewels, hoping by the aid of them to somehow bribe
the warders, and thus help her husband to escape
from the Tower.
Whilst stopping to admire the view of this
historical spot, we noticed an artist seated on a
boulder close to the road packing up his easel, &c.,
having just finished a sketch of the island and crag,
and which he kindly showed to us. It was a most
faithful transcript of Nature. We admired it much.
He replied, being doubtless not overburdened with
this world's goods, and not reluctant to conclude
a bargain if possible, ' As it pleases you so much,
you should make it your own.' It is not every
artist that is a good business man as well as a
painter ; this individual was evidently both. We
inquired what sum would be required to transfer
the ownership of the sketch. The amount was
duly named, and, not being excessive, the picture
became ours, and was duly packed awa)' with our
belongings (it was not a large one), and we pro-
ceeded on our journey, enriched by a clever little
work of art, and doubtless the artist was as pleased
as we were at the result. It was not often, we
imagined, that a landscape painter finds a customer
2 34 A DRH'E THROUGH ENGLAND.
for his productions within ten minutes of finishing
his work !
And now the valley of Borrowdale, enclosed by
bold barrier mountains, opened up dreamily before
us, half hidden in a blue-grey misty haze that made
everything uncertain, the tops of the mountains
alone being tinted with the warm glow of the sun,
and nearer at hand the hill slopes told out all brown
and green and purple and gold. The view was both
charming and impressive. At the entrance to this
noted vale we passed through the primitive village
of Grange ; here the monks of Furness had a largre
barn for the storing of grain, &c. The quaint
double bridge and lowly cottages of this little hamlet,
Y/ith the rippling river in the foreground and stern
precipices for a background, form a most effective
picture. Near here is the much too famous Bowder
Stone, a huge fragment of rock that has evidently
by some convulsion of Nature been detached from
the heights above, which the Lake poet has de-
scribed as
A mass of rock, resembling as it lay,
Right at the foot of that moist precipice,
A stranded ship, with keel upturn'd, that rests
Careless of winds and waves.
But this description appears almost in excess of even
a poet's license, for anything more unlike a ship,
whether upturned or not, can hardly be imagined.
This spot, which is in the very centre of the scenic
beauties of Borrowdale, has unfortunately become
quite a picnic ground for excursionists ; and the
ghastly remains of broken bottles and the litter of
past feasts take away all the romance of it, even
OUR ANCESTORS re MOUXTAINS 235
if the noisy trippers are away. Nearly opposite to
this g^igantic rock is the finely-shaped Castle Crag",
fortified at one time by the Romans. The scenery
just here is exceedingly beautiful ; the valley suddenly
narrows so that there is only just room for the road
and the river» and the combination of rock and
foliage, mountains, and running water is particularly
pleasing and happy. Further along the scenery
became bleaker ; on cither side of us bare mountains
raised their stormy outlines to the sky, wasted by
the sweeping winter gales, with boulders at their
feet in chaos strewn around ; but just at the bottom
of the valley where the road went was an oasis of
green in an unprofitable desert of rocks.
It is amusing to read the exaggerated terms
which our hill-hating ancestors of a century and
more ago employed to describe this class of scenery.
Dr. Johnson called them ' those dreadful hills,' and
Gray applied the epithet ' horrid ' to the Alps ; the
love of mountain scenery had not then arisen.
Gray, who visited the district in 1769, failed to fully
explore this valley, for we learn from him ' from the
accounts of the place he had heard he considered
it a too dangerous exploit to attempt to penetrate
it farther than ^nipathwaite, above which spot,* he
writes, ' all access is barred to prying mortals.' Even
in ni)' Road Book, ' Paterson's Roads,' edition of
1828, the same style of extravagant writing is in-
dulged in. Speaking of the Devil's Bridge in
Wales, the editor of that most useful work writes :
' The emotions of astonishment and terror produced
on the mind by viewing the scene far exceeds the
236 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
utmost powers of language. . . . The yawning
chasm, &c., heightens the impression of terror,' and
so forth. And in a guide-book pubHshed about the
same date occurs the following sentences in de-
scribing the locality of Blea Tarn we had recently
visited : ' The pleasure with which the tourist sur-
veys the scene is. however, in a good measure lost
in the overpowering sensation of danger. . . Above
him rise tremendous hills, whose bases appear to
unite ; beneath lies a precipice which the human
eye can scarcely fathom, and along its sides winds
the narrow and almost perpendicular path, whence
by one false step the traveller would be precipitated
into the gulf. Upon this scene the eye looks down
with terror, the place being calculated to inspire
emotions of the most awful description,' and so on
in superabundance, and after all of which I feel how
puny were my feeble attempts to give an account of
the spot.
But to return to ourselves. High up this valley,
a mile or so beyond the tiny hamlet of Seatoller,
right in the heart of the mountains, stand four grand
and ancient yew trees, dark and solemn looking, old
and gnarled,
Fraternal four of Borrowdale
Join'cl in one solemn and capacious grove ;
Huge trunks ! and each particular trunk a growth
Of intertwisted fibres, serpentine.
We scrambled along the rough hill-sides to inspect
these memorable trees ; over moss-decked boulders
and through a waving undergrowth of bracken we
wended our way in search, and our climb was well
rewarded. It was truly a lonesome spot, shut in all
AN UNCANNY SPOT. 237
around by dark mighty mountains, overawing, stern,
and vast. There was an oppressive silence in the
air ; no sound was to be heard save now and again
the fitful sighing of the wind amongst the darksome
branches overhead, and the distant murmur of some
far-off torrent, sounds that appeared to make the
general silence more profound. Not a stray sheep,
not even a solitary bird, no living creature of any
kind was visible but ourselves ; nothing the handi-
work of man, or suggestive of him. We only saw
the four weird solemn yews, standing out gaunt and
grim like spectres against the cold grey sky. Around
and beneath these grows no grass, only a covering
of red faded dead needles, cast from the branches
overhead, and a few bare cold stones ; it was as
though a curse had fallen on the very ground. It
was an uncanny spot, a spot that somehow depressed
us even against our will ; an evil genius seemed
over all, and yet the place had a strange fascination
for us. These trees are centuries old, possibly each
one has existed a thousand years or more. They
now before us stand as they stood long ages ago,
gloomy, dark, and forbidding. Who knows but on
this very spot the Druids of old may not have raised
a temple, it is not an unlikely place !
This part of England, surrounded as it is by
high mountains, which are the first heights to
effectually check the Atlantic clouds, is the birth-
place of storms, and is about the wettest, if not
the very wettest, place in the kingdom ; and as if
to keep up its reputation, although the sky had
been so fair on starting, now dark-grey clouds were
238 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
gathering- in an ominous manner over the mountain
tops ; so we hastened back to the phaeton, as we
were desirous of getting over the wild Honister pass
to Buttermere in fine weather if possible. Soon
after leaving Seatoller our road began to mount, and
oh ! that road — road, no, that was no name for it ;
track, no, that were too good a title to give it ; it
was rather a dried-up watercourse. In fact, once or
twice so intolerably bad did the way become that
we actually doubted if we were on a road at all, and
pulled up to consider whether or not we had made
some stupid blunder ; but an examination of the
ground showed us here and there between the
assortment of stones all around traces of horses'
hoofs and suspicions of the impress of wheels, so we
continued on our way. It is no exaggeration what-
ever to say, so exceedingly steep and rough was our
track that our horses had quite enough to do to drag
the phaeton up empty. In fact, I believe that dreadful
ascent of the Honister Crag pass was by far and away
the hardest day's work they ever had. The crag and
pass appear to have been rent asunder and formed
by some mighty upheaval of Nature in the earth's
young days, in the times immeasurably remote when,
' amid the wreck of matter and the crash of worlds,'
the scenery of our mountain lands was being formed.
This truly magnificent crag rises in a single sheer
precipice to the height of 1,500 feet, barren, rugged,
mined, and w^eather-worn. It is of a slate forma-
tion, the dark colour of which adds considerably to
its impressiveness. Steep as it is, in truth, a per-
pendicular rock of wall, it has been honeycombed
A LORDLY SPORT. 239
for slates. No, spot, however remote or however
difficult of access, appears to be safe from the enter-
prising hand of man if there is only a prospect of
money-making to encourage him. This wild defile
has been the scene, in the good or troublous old
times, of more than one desperate conflict between
certain Scottish freebooters and the native in-
habitants. Here, in one of the fora)s, was slain
young Gramme, a famous chieftain of the lawless
Scots. The dalesmen of those unenviable da)'s had
to tend their flocks with one hand and be prepared
to defend them with the other. Sheep and cattle
farming was not the peaceful and quiet occupation
it now is, and one would imagine hardly more
profitable, for in those times cattle-lifting was con-
sidered almost a lordly enterprise, and certainly not
one to be condemned. Then the peaceful husband-
man naturally exclaimed.
Lord God ! is it not a pitiful case,
That men dare not drive their goods to t' fell,
But limmer thieves drives them away
That fears neither heaven nor hell ?
Grand at all times this rugged pass must appear;
doubly grand did it seem to us under the influence
of a threatening storm-cloud as we saw it, with the
wind wailing and moaning through the narrow
ravine. And oh ! that cloud, we half feared it,
but we little deemed how intensely disagreeable it
could be. Before we had time to ' make ready ' it
was down upon us in a deluge of rain and hail ; we
were simply wet through before we could get our
ulsters or our waterproofs on, and the well of the
240 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
phaeton was covered with white hailstones. The
horses danced about, stung with the icy darts, which
also made our faces smart again. We were, how-
ever, to some extent compensated by the fine atmo-
spheric effects. Down in the valley the sun was
shining brightly, plainly visible through the slanting
lines of the rain — a strange contrast of warm sun-
shine and cold drenching wet ; and just as we
approached the edge of the storm the light showed
through the falling moisture in a glory of prismatic
colours. That moment of beauty was worth all the
discomfort we had gone through. But still, there
was no disguising the fact that we were soaking
wet. Of course, our waterproofs were now useless.
There was nothino; for it but to drive along- as
fast as our terrible road would permit, and to make
friends with the landlady of the inn at Buttermere,
and get her to allow us to dry ourselves before her
kitchen fire ; doubtless such a request would not be
a novel one to her. But the road was too rough to
take liberties with ; trotting, we jolted and swayed
about so we might almost as w^ell have been at sea
as on iei'ra fij^ma. Indeed, in one or two places we
bumped about in such a manner that we had a
difficulty in keeping our seats, and looking behind I
noticed our man had both his hands clasped to the
sides of the carriage, ' holding on like grim death,'
as he remarked. The back seat of a phaeton is by
no means an easy one to keep over a rough road.
We had several young torrents to cross, which went
dashing and gurgling across our track in fine style ;
they managed, too, to bring down quite an assort-
SHELTER AFTER A STORM. 241
nieiit of rounded stones and boulders of all sizes,
and these by no means improved our drivincj- ;
indeed, one particular boulder, half hidden in the
bed of a stream, nearly brought both our horses
down ; it was a touch-and-go business that might
have put a sudden end to our most delightful trip.
In truth, the one fly in our ointment, the only thing
that ever cast a shadow over the great and other-
wise unqualified enjoyment of our outing, was the
fear of anything going wrong with either of the
horses, and thus bringing our pleasures to an
untimely end, for as we wandered wl>ere we would
over rough mountain lands, and rarely traversed
moorlands, our roads were of all descriptions and
sorts, some being, as in the present instance, not
worthy of the name, and very trying both to horses
and carriage. However, we made the best of our
way along, and eventually arrived at the litde inn
at Buttermere all safe and sound but very wet. We
soon made friends with the hostess, and a seat be-
fore the Morious fire in the snug litde kitchen made
us quickly forget all our past discomforts.
This little inn has its tradition. Once upon a
time — to commence the story in the genuine old-
fashioned way, for although the history is true I have
forgotten its exact date, however, it was in those
times when forgery was punished by death — once
upon a time, then, th(i innkeeper had a daughter,
a rural beauty, and locally famous for her charms.
Came one day to the tiny hostelrie a stranger, a
gentleman, evidendy, who gave out he had come
to these secluded parts to sketch and fish and gene-
R
242 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
rally to rest himself, and as a thorough change
from town life. The stranger was struck by the
beauty of his landlord's daughter ; he wooed and
won her, and eventually married the girl. Hardly
had the marriage taken place when the bridegroom
was arrested on the charge of forgery ; in due
course he was tried, found guilty, and hanged. Such
is the brief history of Mary, the beauty of But-
termere. Even this out-of-the-way solitary hamlet
has had its exciting episode. In fact, there is
hardly a village in England, however small, but
has some local memories or traditions, some story
of the past, of more or less interest. The number
of curious tales and histories confined to the district
we have slathered from time to time durino- our
journey would, if fully related, fill a good-sized
volume. Many of the legends of the surrounding
old families and houses were almost too strange
not to be true. Even in this present enlightened
century it is astonishing how many old country
mansions have the credit of being haunted. In one
case, during a previous journey, we passed an old
castle reputed to have a family ghost attached to it.
Though not very extensive, it is a grand old building
— a little gloomy, perhaps, but a delightful retreat
in the summer time, being beautifully situated in
the midst of lovely surroundings of hill and dale,
and wood and river. And yet it is a fact, the old
house remains empty ; its ghostly reputation appears
most effectually to keep all tenants away, although
it has been offered at a ridiculously low rental over
and over again. Many people, tempted by the
A HAUNTED CASTLE. 243
particulars and terms, come to look at the place,
we were told, but hearing of its reputation they
leave it tenantless. And yet, nowadays, nobody
believes in ghosts ! I must confess, however, the
place in question has a very eerie, haunted look,
and though I myself had almost determined to
beard the spectre in his den and take the old
castle for a summer, on second thoughts, and a
second inspection of its antique chambers, I con-
cluded I would not.
The grand amphitheatre of mountain precipices
at the head of Buttermere, unique in its way, with
its jagged, torn, and rent outlines, appeared very
impressive as we looked back upon it lying wild and
dark under the heavy storm-clouds, with numberless
white torrents streaming down the gloomy tempest-
stained sides of the blackened crags. The quality
of these clouds we had learnt by experience — a good
school is experience, but it is somewhat a dear and
disagreeable one.
We had a fine drive back to Portinscale through
the vale of Newlands. The rounded hills with their
long gradual slopes, green to their very summits,
contrasted pleasingly with the bare and rocky crag-
like formation of the first portion of our stage ; the
landscape no longer was severe, it had a milder
physiognomy. Too lofty to be called hills, and too
even in outline, and hardly grand enough for moun-
tains, these heights have the local title of fells. Short
thick grass and bracken appear to be the only growth
upon them ; sheep their chief if not sole inhabitants,
the tracks of which animals, together with sundry
K 2
244 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
footpaths, run all over their sides in every con-
ceivable direction, looking for all the world like so
many white veins.
As we approached our destination, bright bars of
glowing orange showed through the dun-coloured
clouds where the sun was setting ; long blue solemn
shadows stole over the hills ; the winds had lulled
themselves to sleep ; a shadowy indistinctness spread
over all around, and silent mists began to gather
in the valleys. In front of us Skiddaw stood boldly
forth, like a mighty sentinel keeping watch and ward
over the land, a giant among giants. His hoary
old head, suffused with a rosy glow, was transfigured
in the tranquil lake below, his channelled sides,
ravines, and gullies being veiled in shadow ; and
beyond were distant peaks, all bathed in a warm
purple light. It was a scene full of a certain poetic
dreamy imagery.
245
CHAPTER XV.
Perfect Day— The Pleasures of the Road— A Druids' Circle — The
Unknown Past — An Impressive Sight — Threlkeld and its Won-
derful Tarns — An Age of Fact— Grand Moorland Scenery— The
Beauties of the Moors — Ullswater — Nature as a Painter — Sty-
barrow Crag — An Old Fight — The King of Patterdale — Brothers
Water— Singular Coincidence — A Faithful Dog — Airey Force —
A Difficult Task— An Antique Love Story — Dacre Castle— Eamont
Bridge — Relics of Prehistoric Times — Mysterious Structures —
King Arthur's Round Table— The Giants' Caves.
It is not often one gets perfection in this world, but
the next morning was as perfect as it could possibly
be ; it was simply a superb day ; large white clouds
were gaily sailing overhead in a sky of deep pure
blue, causing a play of light and shadow across the
hills and dales. Fantastic wreaths of snow-white
mists were wooing lovingly the lower slopes of the
mountains, now rising and falling as though they
soared on wings, revealing ever and again as they
rose sunlit slopes of greenery, wooded knolls, stony
crags and wastes, and pine-clad heights. The air,
too, was deliciously cool and invigorating, and as we
opened our casement window fragrant odours came
wafted to us.
Out of Keswick, in the direction we were journey-
ing, we discovered there were two roads ; we selected
the older and hillier of the two, for both we found
were hilly, and our reason for so acting was, we
246 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
found by thus doing we should pass by a relic of
prehistoric times — a Druids' circle to wit. We came
suddenly upon this relic of the unknown past, an
erection of old grey, weathered, and lichen-stained
stones, situated upon a lonely wind-swept piece of
ground right on the top of a fell ; all around was a
wilderness of mountains, standing sullen, bleak and
bare, and of a cold, forbidding hue. The very tone
of the landscape, as suited well the scene, was
low and desolate to a degree, sombre and oppres-
sive. Truly the ancient Druids aptly chose the
spots whereon to erect their places of worship, always
supposing these strange remains to be such. Here
on the summit of this drear upland, in the midst of
this utter loneliness, with only the peaks and the
precipices of the mighty mountains visible, they
raised their temple, a circle of rude unhewn mono-
liths. We can now never hope to know the real
uses to which these strange memorials of the past
were put. Primitive man, or priest, or astronomer,
or whoever raised them in the far-off ages of the
long ago, left no tablets of stones engraved — or at
any rate none have ever been discovered, and most
probably none ever existed — with hieroglyphics or
other lettering, however rude, to help us to learn
more about them.
Without doubt, as Dr. Johnson has remarked,
* They are the most ancient works of man extant
upon our island ; ' all the rest about them is dim and
uncertain. Arguments have been urged to prove
they were employed for astronomical purposes. Csesar
says, ' The Druids could predict eclipses with great
A DRUIDS' CIRCLE. 247
certainty,' and tliat is nearly all the positive informa-
tion concerninor them we have; but even that little
proves that these ancestors of ours were not abso-
lutely the ignorant barbarians some have supposed.
There is one fact that may be considered to sub-
stantiate the astronomical theory — namely, at Stone-
heng-e as well as here, and at most other such
structures, some distance apart from the circle stands
a solitary monolith, and exactly over this the sun
rises on Midsummer Day. This may be accidental
or it may not. It appears to me that from the
situation of these puzzling and curious remains, they
were eminently suited for observing the heavens,
being placed on bleak moorlands, uplands, or plains,
where the sky prospect is both extensive and unin-
terrupted. This circumstance would, however, also
harmonize with a favourite theory of my own — viz.
that they were actuall)^ temples of worship, and that
the sun was the god worshipped.
Looking upon these ancient, time-stained, weather-
worn stones, a feeling of mystery came over us, an
awe was upon the place, the spirit of the past incum-
bent brooded over it :
Skirted with unhewn stone, it awes my soul
As if the very genius of the place
Himself appeared, and with terrific tread
Stalk'd through this drear domain.
Who invoked this structure into existence, who and
when, and wherefore ? Here the imagination has
full play ; a glamour of romance hangs over it ; the
unknown has always an uncertain, indescribable
'^a'^cination for us. How changed has become this
248 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
England of ours — the whole world, since these hoary
old stones were first erected here ! And yet as we
stood there we probably looked upon much the same
scene the ancient Druids did. The rugged moun-
tains stand now as they stood then ; the desolate
fell could not be more desolate of old ; all have
changed but they.
What has always been an enigma to me in respect
to these structures is, that if the Druids really raised
them (as most probably they did), why, as they were
so learned in the art of astronomy, and therefore
presumably advanced in other sciences, did they
rear such rude piles ? Some of the transverse stones
at Stonehenee were hollowed out to receive the
top of the upright ones, but no cement or mortar
appears to have been used. The mere moving and
elevating of ponderous monoliths seem to have
offered no great difficulty to them ; it is somewhat
strange, therefore, that those who could do all this,
and possessed considerable knowledge of a difficult
subject, should have been content with such rough
structures.
Our road now — with many ups and downs — took
us to the litde hamlet of Threlkeld, with its old
ruined hall, a portion v^f which is now converted
into a farmhouse. This one-time fine mansion was,
in the reign of Henry VII., the residence of Sir
Lancelot Threlkeld, a renowned and valiant knight,
and who here gave shelter and a secure retreat to
the ' shepherd lord.' Sir Lancelot boasted ' he had
three noble houses — one for pleasure and hunting,
Crosby to wit ; one for profit and warmth, Tanwidi ;
WONDERFUL TARNS. 249
and one for a stronghold, Threlkeld.' Each one of
these is now a farmliouse. This tiny village lies at
the foot of the stern Blencathara. This mountain,
which rose so stately above us, is famous for two
extraordinary tarns, one of which, if tradition is to
be relied on, is so hemmed in by 'yawning gulfs'
that the stars may be seen reflected in it at mid-
day : —
Never sunbeam could discern
The surface of that sable tarn,
In whose black mirror you may spy
The stars while noontide lights the sky.
The other, Bowscale Tarn, is, or was, noted for two
immortal trout which served to amuse the banished
lord, who, disguised as a shepherd, used to tend the
sheep upon this mountain wild : —
And both the undying fish that swim
In Bowscale Tarn did wait on him,
Tliey moved about in open sight,
To and fro for his delight.
There was a certain Welsh tarn also famous for
its never-dying trout ; but unfortunately for the le-
gendary romance, the waters from some lead mines
found their way into it ; the immortal fish could not
stand the indignity, they became mortal, and died.
What became of the Bowscale fish I know not ; they
have at any rate become invisible to mortal eyes,
nor does the unfathomable tarn any longer possess
that qualification. This is an age of fact, not ro-
mance — of stern reality, not poetry. Nowadays,
amongst us live people who dispute the very exist-
ence of Kin<7 Arthur. W^ilhclm Tell, &c.. and some
2SO A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
are even to be found who argue that Shakespeare
did not write the plays ascribed to him. Doubt and
unbehef are ahnost as hurtful as superstition. Faith
has raised such ' poems in stones ' as Tintern, Bol-
ton, Fountains, and countless other abbeys, cathe-
drals, &c. ; what has un-faith done — what can un-
faith do ? Superstition, with all its faults, was a
grander thing than the cold, lifeless unbelief of the
present day.
Once more our road began to mount, and it led
us over some fine moorlands, with beautiful and ex-
tensive prospects all around. We were traversing a
wilderness of purple heather, sprinkled with innu-
merable grey and weather-bleached boulders ; and
besides the heather, the moor was covered with long
lank grasses which waved before the summer wind
like a sea of green varied by yellow mosses and
black peaty soil, suggestive of treacherous bogs ; a
vast undulating breadth, in which lonely pools every
here and there made gleams of silvery light, like bits
of fallen sky, and which contrasted powerfully with
the dark soil around. It was a grand drive, a dome
of blue overhead, and the circling mountains around
alone limited our vision. The invigorating freshness,
the lightness, the purity and tonic properties of the
air of these heathery wildernesses are most exhila-
rating ; they buoy up the spirits, and make even the
mere fact of existing a pleasure. The clearness of
the atmosphere and the brilHancy of colour is every-
where remarkable ; the purple of the heather, the
gold of the gorse, the green of the grass, the yellow
of tlie mosses, and the red and brown of the bracken,
MOORLAND SOLITUDE.
the neutral gfrey and white of the rocks, the gem-
like sparkling of the streams and pools, the intense
blue of the wind-swept sky, and the ultramarine of
the distant mountains, form altogether a wonderful
study of colour — a rich, harmonious whole. Then
the solitude and the silence of these vast upland
wastes are most impressive ; no life or movement is
visible save the clouds overhead and the fallinof of
distant mountain streams, looking like so many
moving silver threads. The stillness was almost
painful, and but for tlie crunching noise of our
wheels on the rough roads, which sounded strangely
loud, the silence was complete. Even the vast
cloud-shadows as they flitted by seemed unnatural,
because they showed movement without sound, and
the gleams of sunlight as they came and went gave
grand effects. I know of nothing — not even the
wide sea — that gives to the mind such a sense of
freedom and unlimited space, such a picture of wild
and remote solitude, as do these moorlands. The
eye rejoices to range unconstrained, and exults over
the illimitable prospect they afford.
From our elevated position, after several miles
of grand driving we descended abruptly to Ulls-
water, the upper reach of the lake and stately-
shaped mountains at its head coming into view
to great advantage during the descent, from the
bottom of which to Patterdale we continued alono-
by the margin of the mere, and a beautiful stretch
of road it was.
As we journeyed along we were enchanted with
the beauty of the wooded slopes. The lady-like
silvery birch, the graceful rowan tree, mingled with
2 52 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
larches, stout oaks, and sturdy red-trunked pines,
which with other woods made up a slope of green
loveliness not to be easily blotted out of our me-
mory ; and adown and through the lambent leaves
of the stilly foliage how softly the sunshine shone,
and how the countless leaf shadows trembled and
danced upon the ground ! And the grey lichen-
laden and moss-begrown rocks about too, how
picturesque they looked all lying around in a de-
lightful confusion, and between the rocks flourished
many a graceful fern, the hart's tongue and the
oak fern being conspicuous amongst the number,
and everywhere the tall bracken abounded. There
were here great landscapes, looking across the
lake to the mighty hills beyond, and little gems
at our feet. Nature's picture-gallery is a very
varied one.
As we proceeded on our way we passed under
Stybarrow Crag. Round this fine projecting preci-
pice formerly there existed only a narrow uneven
path, and this spot was the scene in olden times
of a miniature battle, a sort of local Waterloo. It
appears that the dalesmen in these parts hearing
that the Scots had entered Westmoreland on a
predatory expedition, gathered together their forces
to resist the invaders, but being of a generally peace-
ful disposition they had no leader skilled in war.
However, one Mounsey, a herdsman, volunteered
to lead them ; his services were accepted ; he placed
his men with great judgment to defend the Sty-
barrow Crag pass, where
A hundred men might hold the post
With hardihood against a host.
AN EVENING STROLL. 253
The Scots, with less judgment — possibly they made
the oft-repeated mistake of holding- their foes in
too great a contempt — attacked the dalesmen on
the spot, and were totally defeated. Mounsey, for
the generalship and valour he displayed, was then
and there crowned by acclamation King of Patter-
dale, which title continued to his successors for
long years, though now I believe it is extinct,
and the inhabitants of the once secluded valley
acknowledge the kingly or queenly succession of
the United Kingdom as established by Act of
Parliament.
In the evening we took a stroll up the valley
to Brothers Water, a large tarn hemmed in by strik-
ing looking mountains, making altogether a fine
picture. The walk was a pleasant one ; on one side
of us the mountains were glowing with the rich
warm colouring of the setting sun, whilst on the
other they loomed up in shade of a dark grey
hue, the mountain silence being broken by the
mysterious voices of distant cataracts ; and the
nearer falls and streams gurgling and leaping from
rock to rock gave life to an otherwise desolate
scene. In this tarn two brothers were drowned
in the year 1785, and, strangely enough, a similar
occurrence took place some time previously ; from
this fact, the guide-books state, the lake is named.
Whether or not such is the case is at any rate
doubtful, for the original appellation of the tarn was
Broader Water, which might easily have become
corrupted, and converted into its present title.
Returning to the village, though the gloom of
254 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
twilitrht was eatherlno- fast around, we rambled into
the churchyard ; it was the very hour for such a
visit — a stray bat and an uncanny owl both greeted
us. The church itself is of recent date, and though
of pleasing and suitable elevation, and harmoniz-
ing well with its surroundings, is of little interest.
To us it was of none whatever ; in a couple of
hundred years or so, when its walls have become
toned down and mellowed with age, when Father
Time has painted it with weather stains, and given
it a certain flavour of antiquity, then the artists of
those days may make a picture of it. In the church-
yard here rest the remains of Charles Gough, who
met his death on the drear Helvellyn. He was cross-
ing over that mountain from Patterdale in the spring
of 1805, his sole companion being his dog, when he
lost his way, and was starved to death on the hill
top. His melancholy fate has given rise to two
fine and well-known poems, respectively composed
by Scott and Wordsworth. It appears it was nearly
three months before the search parties succeeded
in discovering his body, and when they eventually
found It, his faithful dog was there by the side of
his late master, alive, and keeping watch over it.
Yes, proof was plain, that since the day
On which the traveller thus had died,
l"he dog had watched about the spot
Or by his master's side :
How nourished there through such long time
He knows who gave that love sublime.
We rose early the next morning, but not so early
that the sun had not risen some time before us,
gilding the mountains, struggling successfully with
A ROMANTIC FALL. 255
the clouds for supremacy, and turning- the leaden-
Hned lake of the previous night into one of pale
amber. The air was cool and fresh ; our aneroid
was at ' fair,' and inclined to rise, so we had every
prospect of fine weather for our day's pilgrimage,
and we were grateful accordingly. The mists were
creeping slowly up the mountain slopes, wreath
after wreath ascending ; distant peaks before in-
visible began to appear, and now and again a fitful
breeze for a moment ruffled the glassy surface of
the lake, which otherwise repeated the mountains
in double upon its mirror-like surface.
The weather seemed determined to smile on us,
and, as we proceeded on our way, the mists gradually
dispersed, and we had once again a clear, cloudless
sky. Where a stream crosses the road we called a
halt, to inspect the charming Airey Force — a pic-
turesque fall, situated in a deep, rocky glen, shaded
with overhanging trees, and crossed by two rustic
bridges. Altogether, the fine rocks, the shady foliage,
the ample volume of water, its secluded and romantic
position, make this a gem amongst waterfalls ; and
when we saw it, the effect of the sunlight on the
showers of silvery spray, causing them to glow with
prismatic colours, was exceedingly beautiful. I tried,
and tried hard, to transfer the effect to paper, and
failed ; it was one of the most difficult struofCfles I
ever had with Nature — the many ever-varying rain-
bow tints were too many for me.
The chasm which this fall has excavated for
itself is a very fine and striking one. Connected
with this spot is a touching story. Long centuries
256 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
ago, in a stately castle near this fall, dwelt a lady of
high degree and great beauty. Her accepted suitor,
one Sir Richard Eglamore, a valiant knight, both
brave and handsome, had sailed for Palestine, to
join there the Crusaders. Years had passed without
any tidings from him, and his lady fair, deeming him
dead, used to ramble daily in melancholy mood to
the rocks above Airey Force, where she had bidden
her faithful knight adieu. It, however, so happened
Sir Eglamore was not killed, but alive and well,
though, as there was no letter-post in those benighted
days, and submarine cables were still uninvested,
the fact had not become known ; and he, returning
therefore unexpectedly, had intended to betake
himself to the castle, and there surprise his own
true love. On his way he had to pass the fall, and
when so doing, to his astonishment, he beheld on
the rocks above the lady of his heart. In his joy
he shouted to her ; she, in her delight and surprise
at the sound of the well-known and long-unheard
voice, gave a sudden, startled jump, and, losing her
footing, fell over the precipice into the boiling
caldron of water below, and was drowned before
the brave knight's very eyes. He, broken-hearted,
straightway built himself a rude cell overlooking
the spot, and lived and died there a lonely hermit.
Leaving Airey Force, we continued on our way
by the side of the lake to Pooley Bridge — a fine
drive. Shortly before the latter place we noticed
on our map, about two miles off from our road, the
ruins of Dacre Castle, marked worth a visit, if only
to see how wonderful are the changes wrought by
PRE-HISTORIC RELICS. 257
time. Here lived tlie once warlike, might)', and
dread family of the Dacres, who earned their protid
title from the military exploits and valiant deeds of
arms of one of the early barons of the family at the
siege of Acre under Richard Cceur de Lion. Hence
the title D'Acre — a name that was once terrible
and all-powerful in this part of the country. And
now their stern old stronghold, that once received
the sovereigns of Scotland and Cumberland, who
actually did homage here after defeat in battle, is
a heap of ruins ; its moat is dried up, its massive
towers, that have so long survived their uses, are
but crumbling masonry ; its ruined walls are still
struggling with time ; its strength is gone.
Proceeding on our way, we came, near to Eamont
Bridge, upon two very remarkable relics of the un-
known and pre-historic past. The first one, close to
the high road, called King Arthur's Round Table,
consists of a trenched amphitheatre, with two ap-
proaches through a large circular mound of earth.
It is generally supposed that on this spot the gallants
of other days wrought deeds of high emprise, and
vindicated the honour of knighthood by achievements
in arms ; but this conjecture is by no means satis-
iactory to ni)' mind. The place is only about twenty
yards in diameter, and therefore far too limited for
tilting or other deeds of like valour. Near this, but
higher up on a wooded eminence, is another myste-
rious structure of a somewhat similar character.
This also consists of a rounded enclosure, formed by
a very substantial mound of stones and earth raised
to a considerable height and now grass-grown. An
258 A DRIVE THROUGH E?IGLAND.
entrance is cut through this of some dozen yards in
width. Though, Hke Stonehenge, the real uses to
which these singular places were put must ever re-
main a mystery, still I venture an opinion that these
structures were not patronized by the knights of old,
being of too primitive a nature for such grand feats
as were indulged in by them, but by the humbler
classes, who here would compete in athletic exercises,
such as wrestling, throwing and lifting heavy weights,
and such-like sports. Scott mentions these remains
in his ' Bridal of Triermain,' and his opinion as to
their uses I cannot quote in support of my theory, as
he is altogether in favour of the warriors and the
Druids : —
He pass'd by Penrith's table round,
For feats of chivalry renowned,
Left Mayborough's mound and stones of power,
By Druids raised in magic hour.
Some little distance on the other side of Eamont
Bridge, on the north bank of the river, in the face of
a precipitous rock, are two strange excavations. The
only way to these is along the narrow and slippery
sides of the cliff, and the difficult climb is hardly
sufficiently rewarded. The local names of these
caverns are the Giants' Caves. The first is very
small, but the second one is of a considerable size.
It is, however, unpleasantly dismal and damp, the
moisture dropping incessantly from the roof. There
are signs that the larger cavern has been inhabited,
the sides of the rock still retaining marks of iron
ofratine or bolts, and there are traces of a window.
Who lived here, and wherefore the party in question
A GIANTS A ISO BE. 259
chose this seckided retreat, so difficult of access, his-
tory is silent, but tradition is not. When facts are
uncertain then legends abound, and tradition asserts
this cavern was once the abode of a remarkable
giant, who from time to time issued forth from his
den, and seizing both men and cattle, returned there
with his prey and devoured it. Of course he was
the terror of the whole country round about. Some
legends further say that the giant in question was
eventually slain by Sir Launcelot de Lake.
From Eamont Bridge we drove on to Penrith,
and next day proceeded to Carlisle, and so on, over
the border to Moffat, in Scotland, where we remained
over a week, to give our hardly- worked horses a
thorough and well-earned rest ; which portion of our
journey need not be here described, as we repeated
the road as far as Penrith on our return home.
s 2
26o A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
CHAPTER XVL
At Moffat — Sunday Reading and a Sunday Bargain — Southward
Bound— Ugly Churches — A Baby Castle — Castle Johnson — A
Forsaken Road — Lockerby — Landlords and Landladies — Inns in
-the ' North Countrie ' — A Neglected part of Scotland — Ecclefechan
— A Romantic Old Castle — A Wayside Hostelrie — A Relic of the
Old Coaching Days — Gretna Green — An Old Bridge — A Storm
Imminent — An Artistic Hotel — An American's Opinion of the
same — Petrified Potatoes — Carlisle Cathedral and Castle — A
Mountainous Prospect — A Curious Wayside Erection — An Old-
world Village — A Curious Toll — 'A Carriage Propelled by
Machinery ' — Going to Ruin — Penrith.
At Moffat we took tip our quarters at the Hydro-
pathic Estabhshment, a fine building well situated
on a height close to the town. Here we managed
to put through a week very well ; but a week was
enough for us, and we were not sorry when the time
came to re-commence our journey.
The people who patronized the Establishment
all appeared to enjoy most excellent health ; cer-
tainly they did not seem in any way to belong to
the invalid or delicate class. We had fairly-acted
charades and somewhat tame dances in the evenings,
everyone appearing to dance to a step of his own
particular choosing. What with lawn-tennis, bowls,
mountain ram.bles, excursions, and baths all day long,
everybody's time was well occupied ; on wet days
the baths appeared to be a great resource.
Erom here we took our departure on a Monday,
A SUNDAY BARGAIN. 261
and the afternoon of the previous Sunday, as I was
quietly sitting in the drawing- room, huntin!:^ yp our
homeward route by the aid of ' Paterson,' a youn*^
engineer from Glasgow, a good-hearted fellow, whose
acquaintance we had made during our stay, came
and took a seat by my side, and asked what book it
was I was so intently reading. I showed him the
volume in question, which he glanced at and said,
' It is not a Sunday book, at least not one that /
should read on that day.' I was both considerably
amused and surprised at his remarks, for I could
see no harm in ' Paterson.' However, I closed the
obnoxious book, and we commenced a long chat.
He was an enthusiast in his profession, and we were
presendy in the midst of a long and engrossing dis-
cussion about iron girders, embankments, bridge
building, facing points, permanent way, &c., &c., a
discussion which lasted considerably over an hour,
and at the end of w^iich I ventured to remark that
there was evidently no harm in talking about such
week-day subjects on Sundays, the only wickedness
lay in reading about them. Rather a hair-splitting
distinction it seemed to me. This little incident for-
cibly reminded nie of the story of the worthy Scotch
farmer, wdio, returning from kirk one Sabbath in
company with another brother tiller of the soil, said
to his companion, ' Donald, just supposin' it were
Monday, what wad ye tak' for yer coo ? ' To which
query the business-like Donald replied, ' Supposin'
it were Monday, I wad tak' sax pun' ten.' The first
speaker then said, ' Supposin' it were Monday, Pd gie
sax pun'.' 1 )onald again responded, ' Supposin' it were
262 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
Monday, I'd tak' sax pun'.' And so the bargain was
concluded on the Sabbath-day, the cow duly delivered
and paid for the next morning, each party having a
clear conscience.
A warm autumn noon, after rain, saw us once
more on the road southward bound. The sky was
clear and luminous, being well washed and wind-
swept by a prolonged thunderstorm of the previous
night ; the mountains around told out sharp and dark
against the deep blue above ; low-lying grey clouds
still, however, hovered suspiciously about their
summits, and we felt the weather was not to be
altogether trusted. We started in warm sunshine ;
a soft, south-west wind greeted us pleasantly, though
somewhat suggestive of further rain ; but little we
heeded the weather — Cm'pe diem was our motto.
Were we not again commencing our delightful pil-
grimage of some hundreds of miles through the very
heart of fair England, nearly all before us new, fresh,
and unknown ? We drove along through the village
of Moffat, past the pretty public lawn-tennis and
croquet grounds, past the market-place, with its
curious drinking-fountain in the centre, on past its
ugly churches, and — no offence to any gallant
Scotchman — they do know how to build ugly
churches in the ' North countrie,' and so on to the
fair country roads.
Shortly after leaving Moffat we passed the ruins
of an old tower erected, we were informed, in far-off
times, to keep the English out of this valley ; though
how such a small, unimportant baby castle could
have been of much service in actual war puzzled us
NEAR MOFFAT.
A HIDDEN CASTLE. 263
nut a little. Still, whatever it may have been as a
stronghold in its palmy days, as a ruin in its old age
it is undoubtedly a very picturesque object, and we
found it made a capital water-colour sketch, with the
dark purple mountains around Moffat for a back-
ground, amongst which Ilartfell made himself con-
spicuous, though I do not suppose the builders of
old ever had a thought when raising this pile of
affording a subject for a nineteenth-century artist.
Passing directly afterwards over a quaint old time-
toned stone bridge, with a stream tumbling and foam-
ing over the dark rocks beneath in fine style, we
found ourselves in sight of the iron-way, and the iron
horses were evidently somewhat fresh, for the noise
and screeching they made considerably upset our
steeds' equanimity, and we had some little trouble to
quiet them down again ; however, in about a mile we
bade farewell to our iron rival, and our horses, warm-
ing to their work, went steadily along.
About four miles from Moffat we pulled up and
looked round about for ' the beautiful ruins of Castle
Johnson,' which we had been told to be sure not to
miss, as they stood close to the roadside, and were
well worth a visit. We had proceeded some dis-
tance, yet there was no sign anywhere about of any
caslle, ruined or otherwise ; then for a moment the
unwelcome idea struck us that perhaps we had
blundered, and had taken the wrong road, leading to
Dumfries instead of to Carlisle ; but an old milestone,
much the worse for age, by the roadside close to us,
on a careful inspection reassured us, as we could just
manage to trace on it, ' To Carlisle 36 miles.' Un-
264 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
fortunately there was no cottage near nor anyone in
sight to solve the mystery of the sudden disappear-
ance of the ruins. We were just about to proceed,
when over a stile hard by came an intelligent Scotch
laddie, who pointed us the way along a by-path. So
we went in search of the old castle; it came into
sight almost immediately, having been curiously
hidden from the main road by a dense clump of trees.
I had my sketch-book ready, but it was of no
use, for of the ruins there remains a mere fragment
of a fragment of a tower; and as to setting itself up
for an old ruined keep, &c. (see local guide-books),
all I can say is, Castle Johnson is a great impostor.
The spot itself is, however, very beautiful, just the
place for a picnic, being considerably raised above
the country round about, and still sheltered and
surrounded b)' fine old timber. From here is a
charming and extensive view ; we did not, however,
remain long to admire the varying landscape that lay
spread out before us, lovely though it was, for red,
thundery-looking clouds were gathering over the
mountain ranges to the north, and we had some
eleven miles before us ere we reached our night's
destination.
The road now began to lose its wild, hilly cha-
racter, and the more peaceful pastoral scenery of the
Lowlands commenced. It was one of great beauty ;
trees on both sides of us formed a continuous avenue
for miles. It was as though we were driving through
some noble park of vast extent ; the straight columns
of the trees, the arching, interlacing branches over-
head formed quite a lengthened Gothic aisle ; nor
ROAD TRAVEL. 26:
did ever light through painted glass come with
softer or more restful colours of green and gold than
did the sunlight through the foliage above. On each
side of the way was a beautiful stretch of sward, just
the perfection for a canter or a gallop ; but with all
its beauties it was a desolate road — we met or passed
no one. In the old times this was the mail route
from London and England generally to Glasgow and
the West of Scotland, and was doubtless busy and
gay enough then. Now all is silent where erst was
eager haste ; deserted now is the once well-beaten
track ; no more is heard the coach's cheery horn,
the sound of its crunching wheels, the musical rattle
of the harness, &c., and the swift but steady trot,
trot, a-trot of its fast-travelling team.
Railwa)s have killed road travel, and the present
generation hardly know their loss. True, those to
whom it is given to ride bicycles, or even tricycles,
travel far and wide, but more attention has to be
given to the machine than to the scenery, or an
accident would be the probable result; nor, as a rule,
is their seat sufficiently high to obtain an uninter-
rupted view over hedges, &c. Having ridden the
iron horse some hundreds of miles I speak from some
experience. For thorough enjoyment and properly
seeing the country through which one journeys, I can
imagine nothing half so perfect as the old mail-
coach, and after that a phaeton perhaps stands next,
though some distance behind.
However, enough of this rambling ; )onder is
surely the steeple of Lockerby Church, and we shall
soon have to decide which hostelrie there shall be
266 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
our abiding place for the night. The entrance to
Lockerby certainly did not favourably impress us ; it
has a cold forbidding look ; nor did the place improve
on near acquaintance. The houses all look bleak and
bare, being stone-built and without exception devoid
of ornament or even a suspicion of such, reminding
one of a series of square boxes with so many square
holes in them doing duty for windows.
We drove round the little town, as was our wont,
to inspect the hotels (if any) before making our
choice. In this case we had little difficulty in de-
ciding upon our hostelrie, and we at once drove up
to the King's Arms. As there was no one visible, 1
descended and prospected about for either landlord
or landlady. Presently the former was unearthed.
* Could we have rooms for the night and accom-
modation for our horses ? ' I inquired. * Well,'
replied that worthy individual, * I am no' quite sure ;
you see we is full up with commercial gents, but I'll
ask the missus what she can do.' And then mine
host disappeared, and presently his wife, a cheery
Scotch dame, came forth, to whom I repeated my
query. ' She was very sorry, but really they were
full ; however, as she had not the heart to turn any
one away, especially as we were travelling by road,
and it was late and getting dark, if she could any-
how possibly manage to accommodate us she would
do so ; at any rate, she would do her best for us, if we
would be satisfied.' Satisfied ? Of course we would,
with the vision of the two other doubtful inns in the
place before us, the gathering clouds around sug-
gestive of a storm, the long stage to the next town,
AN AMUSING CONVERSATION. 267
with the uncertainty of there being any accommoda-
tion there. We felt we might easily 'jump out of the
frying-pan into the fire,' although, judging by out-
side appearances, our inn was not all we could have
desired, so the horses were at once driven round to
the stable yard and were soon being unharnessed.
Whilst we were thus waiting in expectation, I
was much amused at overhearing a conversation, or
rather an attempted conversation, between our groom
and the ostler. Our man, it appears, was asking for
something, I have forgotten now what, and the
worthy ostler replied to him in the broadest of broad
Scotcli. I need scarcely say the Northern dialect was
wasting its sweetness on the desert air, for during
along explanation our groom kept interrupting with,
* I can't understand you. I'm blest if I can make
out a word you say ; ' and not procuring what he
required, he went away evidently to hunt for the
article himself, muttering the while very disrespectful
things about foreign languages. I was too much
amused to interfere, though with some little trouble
and a few guesses I could make the ostler out fairly
well, but it was not altogether an easy matter.
But to return to our hotel. The landlord in due
course came out, and asked us if we would come
inside, where his wife received us, and ushered us
into a most cosy sitting-room, which we had all to
ourselves — an unexpected luxury — and we found
there quite a sumptuous tea laid out for us, and
looking most inviting. A good, kind-hearted soul
was that landlady ! and how pleased she seemed
when we thanked her for the trouble shr had taken
268 J DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
for our comforts. I verily believe the good creature
had given up her own private sitting-room for us.
Nothing has struck or pleased me more than
the universal kindness and thoughtful attentions we
have received (with but few exceptions) almost
everywhere during our many driving tours, from
both landlords and landladies of the various inns we
have stopped at from time to time. A feeling was
ours of being more a welcome guest than a strange
traveller sojourning at a strange inn ; we felt we had
received a something not included in the mere pay-
ment of our bill. Not by any means unfrequently
on leaving little country inns has madam been pre-
sented with a bouquet of flowers on wishing good-
bye to the landlady, and frequently both host and
hostess have come to the door, in the good old-
fashioned style, to bid us farewell and a hearty wish
for a pleasant journey ; such wishes being evidently
genuine and not given out of a formal politeness.
Perchance it was journeying by road, and not being
in the feverish hurry of travellers in general, made
everything seem so pleasant and spiced with a
flavour of the best traditions of the olden times ; but
w^hatever the reason may be, so it was.
I must say, both in Scodand and in the North of
Eno-land generally, and Yorkshire in particular, the
hotels do know how to treat the hungry traveller ;
those in the South, as a rule, unfortunately, afford a
sad contrast in this respect. One must be hard to
please indeed who cannot make a good meal of crisp
oat cakes, fresh scones, and real brown and honest
white bread ^oftcn all these home baked), with hot
NORTH. COUNTRY INNS. 269
porridq^c, cool cream, and delicious new milk, broiled
herrings, and honey in the comb all fragrant of
Highland heather, with cold meat of some sort or
another ; and lastly, but not by any means least,
capital coffee and fair tea. Such meals are the rule
not the exception in the North, at least so we found.
The very variety of the food is pleasing and appe-
tizing ; perhaps one's taste requires educating to
appreciate the porridge, but the keen bracing Scotch
air usually gives that education. We had to put up
with ratlier a stuffy bedroom, but everything therein
was scrupulously clean, and so we slept soundly
that night beneath the sign of the King's Arms at
Lockerby.
Early next morning we were out prospecting the
weather. Our aneroid was steady and inclined to
rise, and though cloudy still, no rain had fallen; above
us soft pearly grey clouds were sailing along, and the
sun every now and again shone out quite cheerily.
After ordering breakfast I went out with 'mine
host' to inspect his stables by daylight, and was sur-
prised to find accommodation for thirty or more
horses, though when he told me this had been one
of the old coaching inns I did not wonder so much.
By ten o'clock the weather gave signs of being not
only very fine but hot also, and we started along a
capital road in the best of spirits. The views around
for many miles were of enchanting beauty ; fresh
green meadows, rocky rivers, sunny glades, sunlit
wooded slopes with frequent peeps of dark blue hills
beyond, made a landscape fair to see. This portion
of Scodand is but little if at all visited by tourists ;
2 70 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
it is surprising- that such an interesting part of the
country should be so neglected.
Just before reaching Ecclefechan, a pretty vil-
lage, very favourably situated, though it has such an
outlandish name, and one difficult for a Southern
tongue properly to pronounce, we passed a charming
castle romantically perched high up on a rocky cliff,
which cliff was well wooded towards its base, and a
tawny- coloured river at the foot went swirling and
o-urgling along, tumbling noisily over its boulder-
strewn bed, gambolling from rock to rock, delight-
ing the ear with the sound of its wild music ; a
prettier or more fishful-looking river you could not
imagine. It would be difficult for a painter to con-
jure up a more delightful retreat, were he bidden to
realize his beau -ideal of what such a spot should be.
The country all around was richly wooded, and the
woods were of every variety of colouring. Artistic
autumn had tinted die foliage with her magic hand.
A few miles more brought us to Kirtlebridge, a
mere hamlet of some dozen cottages or so ; but
luckily and unexpectedly we discovered here a cosy
little wayside hostelrie, and, moreover, we found it
had some excellent stabling attached to it ; the place
had, however, a forsaken look, as though it boasted of
but little custom. Althougli there were stables there
was no ostler; in fact, we never expected to find one,
being only too rejoiced to get quarters of any kind
for our horses. So I set to work to help the man to
unharness the steeds, and whilst we groomed them
and got the unused stalls ready, I went in search of
the necessary hay and corn, the landlady (there
AN OLD SERVANT. 271
ap])arently was no landlord) having- given me the
key of the loft, &c,, and asked nie to get all I
required.
Inside our little inn we were surprised to find a
brig-ht cheerful sitting-room situated upstairs (the
geography of the house was somewhat peculiar), and
although the only fare we could obtain was bread
and cheese and bottled ale, it was served so nicely,
and on such a scrupulously clean cloth, that we
thoroughly enjoyed our repast ; and, after all, bread
and cheese and ale do not form a meal to be
lightly despised by the hungry traveller. It was the
landlady's daughter who waited upon us, a lively
Scotch lassie, possessing a wonderful power of con-
versation — in fact, she appeared delighted to have
a stranger to talk to, and I must say she took full
advantage of her opportunity.
Her life here we thought must be a very dull
and monotonous one. We found she was well-
informed, and the anecdotes she told of the old
coaching days, handed clown by tradition from her
father and those who kept the inn before him, when
all was life and bustle here, and not stagnation as
now, were well worth hearing — especially charming
did they seem as related in the winning Lowland
tongue. One remnant, she informed us, of those
departed days still existed here in the shape of a
faithful old servant, a decrepit old ostler, a very
ancient fossil, the last of his race on this road, as
far as Scotland is concerned, and who was remem-
bered in the late landlord's will to be provided for
and taken care of in his old acfe. Such faithful old
272 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
servants are rare nowadays ; everlasting change is
the order of our time. But is the world really so
much better off and happier, Mr. Political Econo-
mist .■* You say yes, so I suppose it must be. Still,
the gain is not all gain ; with the profit some loss has
come.
Curiosity prompted me to go in search of this
worthy, and I soon found him in the stables. He
had evidently seen or heard of the arrival of our
horses and had quickly followed them. He was an
aged man, somewhat inclined to be prosy, full of
regrets and tales of the past in which he lived ; he
simply existed in the present, it had no charms for
him. However, the past is past, for weal or woe,
the present a very real reality ; so we thought as
over the viaduct close by thundered the Northern
mail train at lightning speed, leaving behind it
some wreaths of slowly dispersing steam and a dis-
tinct odour of sulphur. How often had other mails
travelled over the low unpretending bridge many
yards below ; how picturesque did the old grey
weather-tinted stone 'brig' look ; how ugly and yet
how eminently business-like did the higher railway
structure appear !
The road on to Carlisle continued for some way
well wooded and full of interest ; but by degrees the
scenery completely changed, the woods grew fewer,
then totally disappeared, and the country assumed a
wild, bleak character. The weather too changed to
suit the scene ; dark suspicious-looking clouds began
to gather overhead, and away to the right a silvery
sheen, a streak of gh'ttering light, told us we were
GRETNA GREEN.
not far from the sea. It was a desolate spot in which
to be cauo-ht in a storm, and so we hurried alonsf, so
last, indeed, that we nearly passed the far-famctl
Gretna Green without knowing it. Romantic as the
traditions of this place may be, it certainly looks
prosaic enough now ; and yet if the walls of that old
cottage close by the road could only speak, what
exciting episodes might they not relate ? Truly
Gretna Green is one of the institutions of the past
that none would care to recall ; how it lasted as long
as it did is certainly a mystery.
Directly after leaving Gretna we crossed the
river Sark and entered England. The wild aspect of
the scenery still continued ; if possible, it grew even
bleaker, and anyone not knowing the direction we
were journeying in, would in all probability have
imagined, judging solely by appearances, we were
crossing the border into Scotland, instead of travel-
ling the reverse way. The weather continued to
wear a forbidding look, and we consequently rattled
along apace. The river Esk was soon reached, and
this we crossed on a fine old iron bridge, an enter-
prising piece of engineering considering the time of
its erection, though it seems a pity, even supposing
the traffic over it to be very small, that it should be
left to take care of itself, which means going to rust
and ruin, as it appeared to us to be doing.
The wind now began to blow raw and chill, the
clouds in front of us careered along at a wild pace ;
dark grey clouds were they, bulging with rain, and
ever and anon a stray gull, uttering his peevish weird
cry, flew past us, so close, indeed, one came, that it
T
274 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
almost touched our faces ; the air from off the ocean
was laden with that peculiar well-known fragrance
that comes alone from the sea. Everything fore-
boded a storm, and we slackened not our pace. The
famed Black or Scotch Dyke was soon passed, and
quickly the merry city of Carlisle came into view.
However, just then it did not look very merry, for
the heavy weather kept the smoke down, and this
hung over the place quite a la Sheffield, and we
hurried on to escape, if possible, the approaching
downpour. To our surprise on entering the town
we found our hurrying had nearly brought us into
the full of it, for the streets were running down with
water, the gutters being converted into miniature
torrents, and muddy ones too. and a policeman of
whom we inquired as to the best hotel with stabling,
told us it had only just left off raining ' cats and
dogs.'
The result of our consultation with the police-
man was that we drove up to the Bush Hotel, as
we concluded from what he said we should find
quite comfortable quarters there. We found there
was no inn in the place with stabling attached, so
after our belongings had been removed from the
phaeton, we had to drive about in search of some
livery stables, and as both our horses and selves
were tired it was not a very agreeable occupation ;
however, eventually we managed to get our steeds
comfortably housed.
We discovered the ' Bush ' to be, as we were in-
formed, a small quiet hostelrie, a modern edifice in
the so-called Queen Anne style (which title seems
AN AMERICAN'S OPINION -5
to cover a multitude of sins architecturally speaking) ;
however, we found the interior, staircase, chimney-
pieces, windows, of pleasing and artistic design, and
furniture, papers, &c., all in keeping, save the waiter,
who was of the ordinary type, and seemed somewhat
out of keeping with his surroundings. An American
we met here was not so pleased with the place as we
were. ' It's all very well, your Elizabethan or Mary
Annean, or whatever you call it arcliitccture,' he re-
marked, 'but you should have your waiters to match.
Now that fellow ought to have a Mary Annean coat
on, with a blue tile let in at the back ; and, speaking
of tiles, I rather guess if those old buffers of the
middle ages ever expected we duffers of the nine-
teenth century were going to copy them, they would
have learnt to draw, and besides, the thing is not
half complete. You ought to have small diamond
windows set in lead, and not plate glass.' So tastes
and opinions differ, but I guess also, if ' the buffers of
the middle ages' had known how to make plate glass
they would have made it, although, except for large
shop windows. I personally have no especial regard
or fancy for that article. The modern builder delights
in it, but those who live in his houses, I observe, do
their best to mitigate its bareness with lace and
other curtains. Small panes (in moderation of course),
and the wooden divisions they necessitate, give the
idea of an enclosed space ; a large square hole filled
with plate glass simply gives the impression of a void
to be somehow partially covered or hidden. And as
to the old tiles, well, perhaps the perspective of them
generally is not quite what it should be ; nay, I may
'V 2
276 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
at once honestly confess, the drawing is often ex-
ceedingly faulty ; but it should be remembered they
were painted for decorative effect, and not to hang
against walls like pictures ; and the best proof that
' the old buffers' knew what they were about is, that
when used for what they are intended their artistic
and decorative effect is beyond question.
The Queen Anne architecture, falsely so called,
of the present day is by no means perfection ; its
title is a misnomer, for, speaking generally, it is a
conglomeration, and not, by the way, an inharmo-
nious one, of Elizabethan, Gothic, and Queen Anne
styles with classic details, and a good deal of Dutch
work thrown in. But though not perfect in itself, it
is a vast improvement upon what preceded it ; it is a
forward step in the right direction, and it is in every
way superior to the characterless pseudo-classic struc-
tures Londoners were at one time doomed to put up
with, in the which solemn symmetry appeared to be
the end and aim of the design, whatever the interior
might be like.
We were up early in the morning in order to
have a good look at what was best worth seeing in
the city before starting on our day's pilgrimage. The
cathedral and castle are the chief objects of interest ;
but the roads must not be forgotten ; to us they were
a matter of considerable astonishment, being nearly
all paved with round cobbles of various sizes, and the
driving over them was consequently a treat long to
be remembered. I do not like to complain without
good cause, having driven over some curious roads
both in Eneland and the Western States of America
PETRIFIED POTATOES. 277
and far-off California, but for short, sharp, continuous
joltinc^, g'ive me the Carhsle streets. I can only
compare them to a mass of petrified potatoes.
The cathedral occupies a commanding position.
This building was originall)' intended for a conventual
church of a richly endowed priory ; it has suffered
considerably at different times from both fire and
spoliation. During the civil war it perhaps, however,
suffered most ; a great |)ortion of the nave and most
of the conventual buildings were then pulled down
and the materials used for the erection of military
barracks and storehouses, &c. Still, after all these
vicissitudes, a wonderfully grand old edifice remains,
hoary with antiquity, fraught with the solemness of
centuries, and mellowed and toned by time, an edifice
all lovers of ancient work must admire, though it
exhibits a great and a too sudden contrast of archi-
tecture of two very different periods ; the choir,
aisles, and transept are of a high order of richly
ornamented Gothic in its best period, whilst the
nave and the rest of the building are of the plain,
heavy, and massive Norman-Saxon type. These
two very opposite styles fail to amalgamate, the
transition is too abrupt.
The castle is finely situated, and is an interesting
relic of the feudal times, and, as may be imagined,
from its situation so near the border, has been the
scene of a good deal of bloodshed and hard fighting,
all of which are matters of history, and needless to
discuss here. Castles are cheap and plentiful in the
North, and it will not do to give too much space to
a sinele one.
2 78 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
On leavino- Carlisle we had some more jolting to
endure, but we soon left the merry city behind, and
presently found ourselves bowling- along a capital
road, wide and smooth, affording space enough for
four coaches to drive abreast, and even to spare. It
was a blessing the surface was so excellent, for other-
wise the road was a heavy one, being very much up
and down hill, and consequently trying to the horses.
In fact, the whole of our day's journey was alter-
nately collar work and descending. That this should
be so was somewhat remarkable, as in the valley to
the right, some 500 feet below us, a beautiful level
road could have been constructed the whole of the
way.
Nothing about the roads in the North astonished
me so much as the manner in which they are taken
straight over hills, when frequently a good level route
for them, little if any further in distance, could have
been made along the foot of the hills. I presume
the roads existed in the first place as mere tracks ;
these possibly were kept on high ground to avoid
swamps and floods ; gradually the tracks became
roads, were improved upon from time to time, and
as they answered their purpose fairly w-ell, and there
was no opposition, the primitive pack-route was re-
tained. But whatever the cause, we had no right
to complain, for the very fact of our road being on
the average of a considerable elevation gave us
grand panoramic views of most of the mountain
ranges and peaks of the Lake District. Knowing and
loving our English mountain land as I do, I had no
difficulty in making out nearly all the heights : to the
A STRANGE STRUCTURE. 279
north, dimly visible, was grand old Skiddaw ; then
south, looming up a dark grey purple under the wild
cold sky, was 'drear Helvellyn ; ' further south was
Scawfell Pike, the highest English mountain, and
Coniston Old Man, cloud-capped, brouglu up the rear.
About six miles from Carlisle, to the rio'ht of the
road, we came across a curious erection, evidently
of considerable antiquity, the why and wherefore of
which we could not make out. I cannot describe it
better than by saying it looked like a large tomb
with a stone platform on the top ; it must evidently
have been built many, many years, as we noticed a
tree had forced its way up from below, and emerged
to light between the top tlags. W^e stopped and
carefully inspected this strange structure, but could
make nothing of it ; there was just a trace of an in-
scription up it v,diich we imagined to read CLIII.,
and that was all.
Another four miles of splendid road, splendid at
least as to scenery and magnificent views, brought
us to the small village of Hesket, where we pulled
up at the White Ox, quite a grand-looking inn for
so small a village ; nor was it all outside show, for the
cheer within was excellent, and the stablinof eood,
but still it was some time before we could eet at-
tended to.
They had not many travellers now the landlady
told us ; it had been one of the old coaching inns,
and in those times a very busy and a lively place,
but now the)- had but few visitors, and rarely ever
anyone to stay overnight ; in fact, it would never pay
to keep it as a hotel, but the house was let with a
28o A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
farm, and the farm was of more importance than the
inn. Her husband and sons were all away helping
to get the harvest in, and so she hoped we should be
able to eet the horses out and stable them ourselves.
Strange to say, although a farmer's wife, she did not
know where the corn or hay or straw were kept, but
she said, ' You are very welcome to look about and
help yourself So, whilst our mid-day meal was
being prepared, I again assisted to unharness the
horses.
It was quite an extensive and rambling stable-
yard, with numerous out-buildings all of the older
time and type, set around in picturesque irregularity.
I judged seventy or more horses must have been
kept here in past days.
After a needful wash, refreshed and with no
mean appetite, I did justice to the excellent repast
the worthy landlady had prepared for us, and which
was helped down by some most delicious home-
brewed ale, nut-brown and foaming. A quiet pipe
afterwards I thought well earned, and, as the village
appeared interesting, we determined to explore it.
The church, which was close by the hotel, claimed
our first attention. It had a quaint double belfry,
and outside the building there was a curious flight
of stone steps much worn by the feet of those who
now sleep so peacefully in the hallowed soil below.
We were rather hurt to find a number of tombstones,
with carvings and inscriptions quite clear and legible,
laid on one side at the back of the church, as but
few of these were in any way broken or damaged.
We judged they could scarcely all have fallen down ;
A CURIOUS TOLL.
28r
besides, the names, dates, &c., on many of them being-
quite clear, proved the Improbability of time being
the sole leveller. On one side of the church tower
was an old sun-dial, with two doleful legends as to
the length of eternity and \\\v. shortness of life in-
scribed above.
The houses and cottac^es of the vlllacre were es-
sentially commonplace : one alone called for any re-
mark ; it was the largest and best In the village, and,
therefore, probably the doctor's. It was built of
stone, with a rather well-carved doorway, and more-
over boasted of some pretty mullioned windows. But
what especially struck us was the peculiar appearance
of the building. The doorway and the mullions of
the windows were painted black, contrasting strangely
with the rest of the house, which was whitewashed.
The place looked as if it were In mourning.
Hesket boasted of a toll-gate and a toll-chain to
a side-road, and It is to the toll-chain I wish, kind
reader, to call your attention. The list of tolls we
could just make out. The)' had evidently many
years ago been painted on the board, and I daresay
touched up from time to time. 1 cannot of course
give the age of the board, but judging from appear-
ances (which In this case could hardly be deceptive),
I should say it was In existence before railways were
known, at any rate In this part of the country, where
even now the people appear half asleep ; and this
fact makes the following extract from the list of tolls
of some interest, at any rate to the curious. It runs,
then, as follows : ' For every carriage drawn or pro-
pelled by machinery the sum of one shilling for each
282 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
wheel.' Now, that simple toll set me thinkhig and
wondering a good deal. I suppose the man who
originally had it posted up must have had some idea
of a ' carriage propelled by machinery.' Mark, it
does not say steam. Possibly the tolls were made
out by someone who may have seen or heard of the
famous old ' Puffing Billy,' now at rest in South
Kensington Museum ; or is it probable that someone
may have constructed some kind of locomotive
machine though not propelled by steam ? I have
seen in some old books once in my possession illus-
trations representing curious ' road travelling ma-
chines,' how worked or supposed to be worked I
know not, though presumably some letter-press de-
scriptions were given in the works ; at the time I did
not pay much attention to them. I recollect well,
however, in them there were various woodcuts of
several different kinds of ' travelling carriages pro-
pelled by machinery,' with men drawn sitting on
them, and apparendy travelling at a high rate of
speed, judging by the whirl of dust and the aston-
ished look of the old-fashioned villagers as shown.
Shordy after leaving Hesket we passed to the
right an old inn, which from its appearance we judged
must in the old coaching days have been of some
importance ; it is now called, we observed, the Black
Bull ; probably it has never had any other title —
rural England is very conservative. It looked very
desolate, standing all alone without even a cottage
near ; desolate, indeed, but still too proud to mourn
its lost greatness — buildings are as full of character
as men. How it exists as an inn at all now is a
JN OLD-TIME HOSTEL. 283
problem. Like many of these old-time hostelries by
the wayside, its i^osting and coaching business gone
for ever, it has a melancholy, deserted look. To see
these cosy old-fashioned hostels of our forefathers,
with their suggestions of past prosperity, comfort,
and glory, going slowly to decay, is a most depressing
sight.
There was a fine sweep of road up to the inn
door, where erst many a coach pulled up and weary
traveller, doubtless, alighted. This was now, alas ! all
grass-grown, the very home of weeds ; the extensive
stables were all forsaken and going fast to ruin,
while the near sound of our wheels scared countless
birds from their secure tenancy in the gloomy hay
lofts above. The solemn caw, caw, caw of some
rooks, who kept wheeling over some trees close to
the old building, was in perfect harmony with the
scene. Doubtless the ancestors of those very rooks
had seen high times at the old hostel.
The road continued very hilly, though of great
beauty ; we passed by several quaint old farmhouses
literally smothered in trees, looking very restful and
peaceful, the very poetry of civilization.
Penrith we found to be a quiet, old-fashioned
town ; being built of red sandstone, the houses,
though plain, have a cheerful look. Two hotels, the
George and the Crown, both looked so comfort-
able and inviting, we settled the difficulty of selecting
between them by driving up to the first and nearest,
and found it to be all that a weary traveller could
desire, whicli is saying a good deal.
284 ^ DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
CHAPTER XVII.
Penrith Church— The Giant's Grave— A Curious Method of Painting
The Beacon Hill — Brougham Castle— Anecdote of James I. —
The Countess's Pillar— A Peculiar Tree— Old English Villages—
A Strange Story— Ancient Manor House— A Ready-made Picture
Appleby Town, Castle, and Church— Cloisters turned into Shops
—A Dainty Meal for the Restorer— A Puzzling Epitaph— Cen-
tenarians — Relics of Bull-baiting— A Stony Road — Savage
Scenery— An Ancient Town— Brough Castle— A Tradition of Past
Times— A Curious Dispute- Antiquarians at Fault— ' The Wildest
bit of Road in England '—An Antique Chamber.
In the morning, before starting on our day's pilgrim-
ao-e, we took a stroll round the town. The shops,
after our long country wanderings and absence from
such allurements, appeared quite attractive. In the
market place, where of old stood the usual cross, now
stands a more useful, if not equally picturesque,
clock-tower. From here we found ourselves wander-
ing towards the church. This is certainly a very plain
structure, not to say a downright ugly one ; it was
erected, or what is about the same thing, nearly
entirely rebuilt {' restored,' the guide-books say) in
the year of grace — I cannot add 'taste' — 1722, and
that is sufficient to account for its uncompromising
plainness.
The churchyard, however, makes up for whatever
of interest may be lacking in the church itself. It
contains a singular antique monument, called the
A GIANT'S TOMB. 2S5
Giant's Grave ; this consists of two stone pillars
some fifteen feet in height and the same distance
from each other ; the space between these is enclosed
on both sides by four large slabs inserted edgeways,
and resembling in shape four gigantic shells. The
pillars are inscribed with Kunic or other unintelligible
figures. Tradition, which in this case is probably
correct, declares these stones were raised to the
memory of Owen Cscsarius, who was one time King
of Cumberland. Near to these pillars stands an
upright stone called the Giant's Thumb, and if this
relic is at all typical of the thumbs of past times we
may indeed conclude 'there were giants in those
days.'
There are, too, the ruins of an old castle here,
which has had a stormy and an eventful history. It
is built of the soft red sandstone of the neicrhbour-
hood, which weathers rapidly, and has suffered pos-
sibly as much from the action of time as from the
destroying hand of man. The walls of this old
castle possess, owing to the nature of the stone and
the exposure to all weathers, a peculiar reddish grey
colour not easy to describe. On our return home,
whilst looking through a private gallery of pictures,
I noticed a clever painting of this very castle, and
my attention was arrested by the truthful colour the
artist had given to the walls, so much so that I
mentioned the fact to the owner, who informed me
the artist (not unknown to fame) had told him that
during his work he ran short of a certain colour or
colours, and not being able to procure what he
required in the town, the happy idea struck him of
286 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
scraping carefully off some portion of the crumbling
stone, and of grinding and mixing it up with his
medium, which he did, and thus successfully com-
pleted his picture, actually painting the walls with
their own substance.
We had been of late fortunate in our weather,
and again we awoke to a lovely morning. Out of
Penrith we took the road leading to Brough, our
expected destination for the evening, and after as-
cending a short hill turned round and took a fare-
well look at the place. The view of the quaint old
town and ruined casde was charming, backed up as
it was with a distance of sunlit mountains ; to the
north was the Beacon hill, on which fires were
lighted to give notice of any invasion by the
Scots in the olden days when the border feuds ran
high.
Our journey that day proved to be one of never-
ending interest, and rich in the memorials of bygone
times. Quite suddenly and unexpectedly we came
upon the historic ruins of Brougham Castle ; perhaps
it was because of the very suddenness and unex-
pectedness, or perhaps it was because of its own
inherent charms — be that as it may — we thought, as
the stern old pile came into view at an abrupt turn
in the road, we had never seen anything more
romantically beautiful. True, everything was in its
favour : the ever-varying light and shade caused the
ruin at one moment to stand out in high relief
ao-ainst a dark backj^round of thick wood, then the
next to be in gloomy shade and all around rejoicing
in bright sunshine. To make the scene perfect
AN ANCIENT FA MIL Y. 287
some cattle were standing lazily in the river close by,
quite a la Cooper, and our cars were delighted with
the musical splashing of the waters tumbling over a
weir just beyond them.
We dismounted and rambled leisurely over the
ruins of what was once a formidable stronghold ; its
hoary, old, worn and time-rent walls, grey with the
weathering of ages, look little warlike now. Its
halls, all roofless, silent, and deserted, echoed
strangely to our footsteps ; there was an air of
desolation over the place, an oppressive gloom,
giving to one the feeling that perchance even the
spirits of those stern-faced warriors of old still
hovered about and haunted the crumbling walls.
From time to time this castle suffered much at the
hands of the Scots, but was again and again repaired,
and was in fair order in 161 7, when James I. was
entertained here by the Earl of Cumberland. An
inscription upon it states that it was repaired by the
Countess Dowager of Pembroke (that great restorer
of castles) ' after it had lain ruinous for years.' Since
then it appears to have gradually fallen into decay,
until it has become what it now is, a grand relic of
the feudal days.
Memorial of the olden time,
Telling of the feudal prime,
More than memory can give
With thy ancient ruins live.
The king was entertained here right royally, and
many gallant noblemen were gathered to meet him ;
amongst others was a certain member of the Lumley
family front Lumley Castle, near Durham. This
288 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
individual was boasting to His Majesty of the great
antiquity of the Lumleys, who were very proud of
their long descent. When in the middle of a long
genealogical account, the King, whose patience was
completely exhausted, exclaimed ' Deed, mon, pray
thee gang no farther ; let me digest the knowledge
I ha' already gained, for by my saul I did no ken
Adam's name was Lumley.'
Some two miles further on our way, in a lonely
spot, we pulled up to inspect a curious and beauti-
fully designed monument erected by the road-side ;
it was enclosed within railings, and near by was a
large stone slab, the surface of which was much
worn. The structure was in the form of a pillar and
of graceful proportions ; at the top of this was a
square heading, the one side of which nearest the
road had either a brass or a copper plate let in with
a coat of arms emblazoned upon it, coloured and gilt
proper, and bearing date 1654 ; beneath the coat of
arms was a death's head ; on either side of this was a
sun-dial, in perfect order, and on the fourth side an
inscription, which I copied, as follows : —
This Pillar was erected Anno 1656 by ye R' Hono'''^
Anne Countess Dowager of Pembrook &c. Daughter and sole
heire of Ye R' Hono*''"' George, Earl of Cumberland
and for a memorial of her last parting in this place
with her good and pious mother Ye R' Hono'''''
Margaret Countess Dowas" of Cumberland ye 2"'^ of
April 1616. In memory whereof she also left an
annuity of four Pounds to be distributed to ye poor
within this parrish of Brougham : Every 2"'' day of
April, for ever upon ye stone table here hard by.
Laus Deo.
This most interesting memorial we afterwards
./ FAMOUS OAK. 289
learnt was called the 'Countess's Pillar;' it is in
perfect condition, and though it has been exposed to
the storms of over two centuries, save that it is time-
toned and weather-stained, it appears as perfect as
when first erected. The difference in date on each
side of the pillar deserves attention.
Near this spot once stood a famous oak, renowned
throughout the country far and wide ; this went by
the name of the ' Hart's Horn Tree,' and the tradition
connected with it is as follows: — In the year 1334
the Kine of Scotland was on a visit to the Earl of
Cumberland at his castle of Brougham (the one we
had just seen). Hunting was his chief amusement,
and one da)- the royal party chased a stag from
Brougham to close against the Scotch border and
back to this spot. The stag, exhausted, dropped dead
at the foot of an oak, and the greyhound, in pursuit
spent, died at the same place and time. In com-
memoration of this event the stag's horns were
nailed to the tree. A singular freak of Nature took
place : the bark grew over and completely covered
the horns, and thus the oak became famous, and was
visited by many from all parts. For over three
centuries this curiosity existed, till at last the tree
decayed and the branches were either lost or stolen.
From here to Appleby the road was one of en-
chanting beauty. Truly has this valley been called the
Vale of Eden ; it is well named, in spite of what
old Fuller says to the contrary, in his quaint manner,
' That though Westmoreland has much of Eden,
yet hath little delight therein.' Appearances may
U
290 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
certainly be deceptive, but a more peaceful, contented,
or happier looking country could not, we thought, be
found within the four seas.
We passed through Temple Sowerby, quite an
idyllic hamlet with its picturesque cottages and
quaint old-fashioned gardens, its ancient ivy-covered
church, its charming green surrounded by grand old
trees, the very poet's ideal of an English village.
Connected with the churchyard here rather a good
story is told of the olden times. It appears the
gravedigger whilst at work one warm day fell
asleep in the trench he was digging. The guard of
the mail-coach passing chanced to notice the
slumberer, and playfully gave a loud blast on his
horn to awaken him. Whatever the gravedigger s
dreams were about is not told, but it is related on
being aroused by the horn, he awoke startled, deem-
ing it was the last trump, and looking round and
observing no one else but himself emerging from the
graves around said : * Good Lord ! what a poor
show for Temple Sowerby ! '
The next village, Kirkbythore, was equally as
picturesque. A short distance from this we passed an
antique mansion, half smothered in trees, and which
appeared to have seen better days ; it had evidently
been an old manor-house, a many-gabled mullioned-
window edifice suggestive of bygone times and the
fine old English gentleman; a russet, time-stained
building, that carried one generations back, a build-
ing eloquent of ample hospitality and old romance.
Shortly before Appleby, a glorious bit of land-
scape arrested our attention. A valley of sunlit
A BEAUTIFUL VALLEY. 291
woods opened up before us, throug-h which glided a
ripi)ling, windiiijr river, threadin^r its way aloni^- like
a silver streak, here gleaming and glancing in the
liijht, there half lost in the shade of overhano-ino-
trees. A valley of gold and silver and green all
bathed in a mellow radiance by the midday sun, the
distance fading away into a soft blue haze ; while
near at hand, just where an artist would have placed
them, some rustic stepping stones joined sloping
bank to bank. It was like a bit cut out of a picture.
We stopped long to admire the scene, and to listen
to the restful sound of the running water, gurgling
and splashing and chatting in that indescribable
manner, making wild music, as only a rocky river
can. Nor was the subdued rustling of the wind,
shaking leaves of the trees around, lost upon us, as
they were gently stirred by the summer breeze.
At Appleby we were again fortunate in our hotel,
and here fared sumptuously. We found, too, a most
charming and kind-hearted landlady at this place,
one most anxious to please and evidently thoughtful
for the smallest comforts of her guests. Surely so far
our lines had fallen in pleasant places ? So comfort-
able indeed were we made there that we had half a
mind to fores^o an afternoon's staee and remain the
night in such pleasant quarters.
Appleby is a very interesting old town, built on
the side of a hill, and consists principally of one wide
street. At the top of this there is a beautiful old stone
pillar (possibly the remains of an ancient market
cross) ; this has a square heading, on three sides of
which are three sun-dials, and on the other is en-
u 2
292 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
graved a coat of arms. Sun-dials seem very plentiful
in this part of the world ; this made the third we had
seen that day. At the foot of the structure is the
following motto, evidently of ancient origin : —
Retain your Loyalty,
Preserve your rights.
This had probably been caused to be engraved
thus by Anne, Countess of Pembroke, who had
erected the wayside memorial we had already seen,
as she w^as a little queen in these parts, caring for
neither king nor protector, if by either she felt herself
aggrieved, and the wording is very characteristic
of her. Of this noble lady it is recorded that a
ministerial request was sent to her, desiring her to
have returned for the borough a certain person in
hio-h favour with the then Government. Her
spirited reply was : ' I have been bullied by an
usurper, I have been neglected by a court, I will
not be dictated to by a subject— your man shall not
stand.'
Close to the dial pillar is the entrance to Appleby
Castle, which is surrounded by a small but beautiful
park, and as our landlady told us the place was well
worth seeing, we opened the gates and walked in.
The building itself is a happy combination of the old
and the modern ; In one part is a grand old Norman
keep, its stern old walls made beautiful by ivy, ruin-
lovinfj- plant — what would a ruin be without ivy ?
After inspecting the castle, we went in search of the
clerk, as we had been told the church was well worth
seeing. There was some difficulty at first in dis-
covering him, as it appeared he did duty also as
A MUCH -RE STORED CHURCH. 293
postman, but wc managed after a time to secure
liim.
On one side of the church, facin*^^ the town, arc
some curious old cloisters ; these, to our indignant
surprise, we found iiad actually been converted into
shops. Here of old the solemn, sandalled, cowled
monks paced in holy meditation, or at least \vere
supposed to do so. But times have changed since
their da)'s. Between the churchyard and the rectory
is a picturesque gateway, evidently formed out of
the mull ions and transomes of a Gothic window, part
of the spoils we presumed of the original church
when it was upon one occasion restored — save the
mark ! for we orathered from the clerk that one of the
results of that restoration was that the fine old stone
traceries of the early windows were cut away, and
their places supplied by the ordinary sash abomina-
tions ! Poor old building, what an indignity ! How-
ever, the church has again been re-restored, and
fortunately this time more in keeping with the
original edifice.
Inside this much-restored structure we observed
a fine old organ, removed at one time from Carlisle
Cathedral ; also we noticed, attached to the corpora-
tion pew, a capital specimen of artistically wrought
iron \vork, designed to hold the sword and mace.
Then we were attracted by a monument of both
considerable beauty and interest, erected to the
memory of the Countess 13owager of Cumberland ;
it was of marble and alabaster, richly carved and
gilt ; on the head of the recumbent figure was a
golden crown, and at its foot a lamb, and beneath
294 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
the following inscription, which we faithfully
copied > —
Who Fayth, Love, Mercy, Noble, Constancie,
To God, to Virtue, to distress, to right
Observ'd, exprest shew'd held religiously,
Hath here this monument thou seest in sight,
The cover of her earthly part but passenger
Know heaven and fame contains the best of her.
This cjtiaintly worded inscription the clerk assured
us was capable of being read in two different ways.
Some antiquarians he had shown it to had discovered
this fact, but ' he was not sufficient of a scholard to
tell how it was.' So we set to and puzzled our
brains for some time to solve the mystery of the
second reading, but ignominiously failed.
On one of the walls of the church, \s\ a con-
spicuous place, a painted notice informed us that
* Anne, Countess of Pembroke, In Anno 1655,
Repaired all this building.' We wondered if the
•word ' repaired ' was synonymous with ' restored '
according to the modern meaninir of that word.
Repair struck us as a safer term to use than restore.
This same Coimtess, who appeared to be very fond
of bricks, or rather stones and mortar, by a will left
eleven shillings a week to be given to thirteen old
women of the parish by the vicar, who had also every
morning to read prayers to them himself, a proxy
not being allowed, so it appeared to us the poor
vicar could never get very far away from home
during his ' vicarage.'
In the vestry we were shown some old pewter
tankards that in the Puritan days were used for
the communion, the Puritans having melted down
RELICS OF BULL BAITING. 295
the old silver vessels, and converted them into
practical coin. Here also we saw a Foxes * Book
of Martyrs,' black lettered, and which our guide in-
formed us used to be chained to a desk, together
with a fine old Bible, also black lettered. In the
churchyard was a tombstone to one John Hall, of
H off, aged 109 years, and who died in 1716, and to
his son, aged 86 years, and to his grandson, John Hall,
aged loi years, and who died in 1821 ; there were
also several other gravestones placed over those who
had lived for over a century. Appleby must be the
place to reside in for those who want to spin out
their existence ; in fact, as the clerk said, ' A doctor
could not very well either live or die there, it was so
dreadfully healthy ; ' * and dull,' we added, which ad-
dition to his sentence our informant did not deny.
In the market place we saw the old ring still
existing, and firmly secured to the ground, which
was used in days of old for the purpose of bull-bait-
ing, when that form of amusement was considered a
noble pastime, and the spot where the grand stand
was erected facing the market cross is still plainly
visible. The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals would have had its work cut out had it
existed then.
From Appleby we proceeded on our way to the
little lonely town of Brough. The road turned out to
be a hilly one, and rough as well, so rough indeed
in places, that we were actually compelled to drive
upon the grass borders of it, which, though heavy and
by no means smooth travelling, was infinitely prefer-
able to the terrible jolting of the road, or rather
►96 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
what is called by courtesy a road. In some places
we noticed large boulders placed on either side of
the way, evidently put there to show the direction of
the road to the old coaches in winter when the
ground was covered with snow.
It was a bleak part of the world ; every mile we
traversed the country increased in grandeur and
wildness. To the left of us abruptly rose forbidding
looking crags, some 500 feet or more in height ;
these frowned down upon us, and, joined with the
waste moorlands beyond, gave an inhospitable ap-
pearance to the scene, and gave us also a sort of a
feeling that Nature had forgotten to finish her work
in this out-of-the-way corner. The stern cliffs, though
so drear and bare, were lighted up by the slanting
rays of the sun in warm orange tints, their crevices
showing dark cool indigo shadows, but no light, how-
ever bright or warm, could ever make those bleak
crags look soft or lovely. Grandeur, not beauty, was
theirs. Riven and scarred and carved into strange
fantastic shapes by the weathering and storms of
ages, fancy could form out of their weird outlines
almost anything she chose. It was as though we
were travelling through a primeval world, not yet
prepared for living inhabitants.
Soon we came in sight of Brough, which from
the distance looked a charmingly romantic little town,
v/ith its hoary old castle, and setting of purple-grey
moorlands beyond. But alas ! in this case certainly
it was ' distance that lent enchantment to the view,'
for on a nearer approach the place lost all its
charms that a few miles off it appeared to possess,
A WORLD-FORSAKEN PLACE. 297
and upon arriving- in its one solitary world-Hjrs.ikcn
street we thou^^ht it was altogether one of the most
wo-begone spots it had ever been our fortune or
misfortune to come across. Mad it not been for
the lateness of the hour and the long stage to the
next villaee, Brou^h, or Brouc^h-under Stainmore,
to give it its proper name, would not have detained
us. As it was, we had to make the best of things
as they were, for it was impossible to proceed, so
we drove up to the one cheerless looking inn of
the place. This appeared quite in keeping with its
surroundings ; however, we noticed there were some
passable stables attached to it, so in one respect
our minds were at ease. But the rough exterior of
the Castle Inn proved somewhat misleading; per-
haps it was because we expected so little, made
us so contented with the cheer within ; anyhow, we
fared far better than we, at one time, anticipated
we should, and after a hearty Yorkshire tea, in the
most old-fashioned of old-fashioned rooms, we felt
in a better mood with the place, and as there was
yet some daylight left, we took a stroll down to the
castle. Little of this is now left but the massive keep,
which itself is but a mere shell, roofless and moss-
grown, the home of the owl and the bat ; docks,
rank grass, nettles and briars flourish around its
base.
There was no guide to the castle, and we rejoiced
in the fact. There was one thing that had pleased
us very much in our journey so far — we had been
able to climb and wander over all the old castles
without being troubletl v.'ith. or hurried abcnit in
298 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
feverish haste by, useless guides. It is pleasant to
be able to take one's own time when exploring a
ruin or any place of interest, scenic or otherwise, to
select one's own standpoints for viewing, and gene-
rally to observe and reason about matters for oneself,
to have something;- left for the imamnation. A world
of facts without romance would, after all, be but a
poor world to live in. Truly you may get plenty of
romance of a kind from a guide, but the quality is,
as a rule, dreadfully poor — evidently home-made,
and, like home made wines, not much to be desired.
But, after this digression, to return to the castle.
This old ruin has suffered a last indignity in having
become a quarry of ready-hewn stones for those
who had any building to do in these parts. It is
fortunate, in one respect, that Brough is not an
enterprising place, or by this time there would have
been nothing left of this once feudal stronghold. A
large stone, long since removed by some Vandal
hand and applied to ordinary building purposes,
tells how — 'This castle of Brough-under-Stane-
more, and the great tower of it, was repaired by
Lady Ann Clifford, in the year of our Lord God,
1659, so as she came to live in it herself for a little
while in September, 1661, after it had been ruinous,
without timber or any covering ever since the year
1521.'
It appears that Brough was formerly a Roman
station of some importance, and many relics of the
Roman occupation have, from time to time, been dis-
covered here ; in fact, the castle stands on the spot
where the Romans had (heir encampment or fortress,
AN ANTIQUARIAN DISPUTE. 299
relating- to which period the following- tradition has
been handed down. During the reign of the Em-
peror Vespasian, one Marcus Festus commanded
the Roman entrenchments here. He had a daughter,
an only child, named Festa. It seems that a youth
named Cathlon, son of a British chief who had fallen
before the invader's arms, fell in love with her.
This youth Festus had treated with especial regard ;
he had him instructed in all the learning imparted
to Roman youths, and even gave his consent to
the marriage. Cathlon, however, one day brooding
over his father s death, in a moment of impetuosity,
and forgetting all the kindness of Festus, poisoned
the reservoir of water that supplied the camp. His
treachery was discovered, and he perished by the
lictor's axe. Heartbroken, the deceived Festa died,
and Festus, returning to Rome, presented himself
before the Emperor and said, * I come from among
a people who will never forget that they have been
free, and I bring thence nothing save this small urn,
containing the ashes of a beloved daughter.'
Amongst the many relics of those times, one has
recently come to light, a plain hewn stone, with
curious lettering thereupon, and this lettering has
given rise to a very pretty and curious dispute be-
tween certain antiquarians and learned doctors ; in
fact, the doctors could not agree amongst themselves.
It appears that the inscription upon the stone was
actually ' read as a Runic epigraph b)' Dr. George
Stephens, the famous Scandinavian scholar. But
apparently his success was like that of the sinologist
who read tlic scratches on tlic wliorls found at
A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
Hissarllk as Chinese ! ' Two other emnient scholars,
Dr. Isaac Taylor and Professor Sayce, eventually,
by the aid of Greek, managed to make out that the
inscription recorded the death of a boy aged sixteen,
called ' Hermes.'
This matter of deciphering a strange inscription
reminds one of another and somewhat similar occur-
rence which happened some years ago. It chanced
that a select body of antiquarians and scientific men
were driving through a certain portion of Cornwall
in order to inspect some old stone monuments, and,
if possible, to solve the mystery of their origin.
On their way they passed by a field, in the centre
of which stood a monolith. They all descended to
view this, and found it to be covered with strange
marks. One of their number stated that these marks
were Runic, and thereupon commenced a learned
discussion upon them. Whilst so engaged, an old
shepherd chanced to pass that way. One of the
party called to him, and inquired if he could tell
them what the name of the stone was, or give them
any information or local tradition respecting it.
''Ees,' to the inquiry, replied the shepherd, 'I
knows the stane weel, we calls it by no name
whatsomeever ; my old fayther, who were a mason,
when a young man put her up there and roughed
her over wi' a chisel for the cattle to scratch them-
selves agin ; ye see there b'aint no trees about here
for them.' As to how the learned doctor felt, or
what he said on hearing this, history is silent.
On returning to the hotel, I sought out the
ostler— that individual 1)cing generally fairly well
AN UNPROMISING ROAD. 301
informed about the roads and accommodation to be
had on the way — as I rather feared from the look of
nioorland heig;hts ahead our next day's stage would
j)rove a hilly, if not a rough one. In reply to my
([ueries, he said I should find the road over the
moors ' fearfully wild and bleak, eight miles or so
uphill to begin with, and in a dreadful condition ; in
fact it is,' he continued, ' the wildest bit of road in
England.' This, truly, was agreeable news ; I had
hardly expected a favourable report, but was not
prepared for such a wholesale condemnation. The
weather, too, did not look well for the morrow ; the
sun had gone down in a pale yellow, behind dark
grey rain-charged clouds, whose long tails, projecting
forth, promised wind as Avell as wet. However,
I comforted myself with the thought that, after
all, the road might not turn out so bad as was
represented. All the same, it was evident we were
in for a bleak and exposed drive, and we should
have been better pleased with more favourable wea-
ther prospects, as we were not ambitious of being
weather-bound in this cold, bleak, uninteresting
little town.
Gas was a luxury, of course, unknown here, so
we had candles that made the darkness of our
gloomy room only the more visible. We were
rather amused, too, when the servant brought theni
in, by her asking when we went to bed, ' W^e always
go,' she said, 'at ten o'clock ; but,' she kindly added,
' you can sit up a little later if you wish.'
A quaint, old-fashioned bed-room we had, with
a huge four-poster with nuich-fadcd hangings and
302 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
Other appointments in keeping. There was no mis-
take about it, the furniture was old — genuinely old —
possibly it was in existence when America was an
unknown world, and if so, I can only say its looks
did not belie its age.
On awaking next morning amid such surround-
ings, we almost felt as if, during our sleep, we had
reversed the usual mode of the progress of time,
and that we had slept backwards for two centuries
or more, that railways, steam, electricity, telegraphs,
&c., were an illusion and a dream. Nor on rising
and looking out of our casement windows did we
see any sight or hear any sound that proved we
were in the nineteenth and not the sixteenth cen-
tury, so old-world and antique-looking did the place
appear. It seemed as though for ages past no
addition or alteration had been made to the collec-
tion of hard-featured, plain structures that compose
this dreary little Westmoreland town.
3^3
CHAPTER XVIII.
A Wet Morning — Doubtful Prospects— A Tour of Inspection — Ancient
Crosses— Over Stainmoor— A Bleak Drive— The Rere Cross — A
Moorland Prospect— A Lonely Hostelrie — Traditions of the Spital
Inn — An Oasis in the Desert — Bowes — Dotheboys Hall — True
Love — An Old Castle— Inn Full — Barnard Castle — No Accommo-
dation — We Secure Quarters at Last — A Kind-hearted Landlady
— The Abbey Bridge — The Tees— A Mile of Beauty — Athelstane
Abbey — Rokeby — One of Nature's Masterpieces — Greta l^ridge —
Fox Hall — A Mysterious Sign-post — Milestones — Highest Portion
of the old Northern Mail Road — A Coaching Clapham Junction
— An Old Manor House— Catterick Bridge Hotel— A Cool Recep-
tion — Tales of My Landlord.
Patter, patter, patter, all night long, and patter,
patter, patter all throughout the early morning beat
the incessant rain against our window panes. We
rose only to look out upon a regular wet day : a grey
world was before us, a heavy leaden sky above, and
a steady downpour was in progress, one that looked
as if it meant business.
Here was a pretty state of affairs ! To be shut
up all day in this ancient inn, in this world-forsaken,
out-of the-way place, with nothing to do but watch
the rain, was not a fate to be desired, and yet to
cross the bleak, barren, storm-swept moors, with a
bad road into the bargain, was not a particularly in-
viting alternative ; and the worst of it was, there was
a doubt about the accommodation on the road, and
of course the horses as well as ourselves had to be
304 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
considered. A look at the barometer did not brighten
the outlook, for that instrument showed a decided
and a most provoking tendency downwards.
Some sportsmen who were staying at the hotel
for the shooting on the moors, and likewise weather-
bound, looked gloomy enough, and when we con-
sulted them, gave us but scant comfort ; they stated
it was their opinion that we were in for not merely
a few hours' soaking, but for a day or two of it, for
as one of them cheeringly remarked, ' B rough is
about the w^orst place for rain in all Yorkshire, and
hard to beat for wet anywhere in England ; and
when once it begins to come down there is no know-
ino- when it will leave off — one fine day a week is a
very fair average here.'
The wind was blowing a regular hurricane over-
head, the rain-laden clouds tore along at a wild pace,
the windows of our hotel rattled and clattered in
their antique casements, we almost expected each
blast would blow them in. Pleasant weather cer-
tainly ! The aforesaid sportsmen were particularly
earnest in their expressions of opinion as to the in-
advisability of our attempting to cross over the wild
lonely moors in such terrible weather, and related,
for our especial edification, wonderful anecdotes of
lost travellers, and of mail-coaches being overturned
by such storms in former times, when the road was
in fair order, and not in the uncared-for state it now
is, and when, if anything happened or a breakdown
occurred, there was regular hotel accommodation to
be had. Perchance the sportsmen, with no sport,
no papers, and nothing to do, were somewhat dull,
ANCIENT ERECTIONS 305
and would not have been all;pgether sorry had they
been able to persuade us to have delayed our journey
a day, and have kept them company.
However, as it was onl)' early mornin;^', and ihiiiL^s
generally look briohter after a good meal, we ordered
breakfast and waited the course of events. That
repast over, we took a turn out, clad in our water-
proofs, to try for ourselves the quality of the weather.
We were nearly blown off our feet for our trouble,
and we found it really hard work to make any head-
way against the tempest of wind and rain ; still we
would not give in, and struggled against the elements
as best we could.
There was little of interest to be discovered in
the queer old-fashioned place. We had the one little
street all to ourselves, the only living objects visible
save an old duck, who appeared to be enjoying itself
immensely in a dirty puddle under the lee of a huge
piece of rock. We came across two old market
crosses, one at either end of the street, of the usual
pattern, with steps up to the pillar. They were much
weather-stained and worn, and a good deal the worse
for their long exposure to past storms. An inscrip-
tion was barely legible on the upper one, which we
copied as follows: 'B.M.C. 1331.' It might have
been intended for 1531, but the first 3 appeared
tolerably distinct, and I think we read it correctly ;
if so, we presumed this showed that the cross was
over 500 years old, and though that is a great age,
all I can say is, it looked it ; and possibly, too, the
dreary street appeared then much as it appears now.
By twelve o'clock it was blowing as hard as ever,
X
3o6 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
the rain clouds appeared to travel even faster than
before, and another inspection of the barometer
showed still another fall ; and as we felt we might
stay on for days, and then have to face similar
weather, w^e wisely or unwisely determined to make
all as secure and weather-proof as possible, and ven-
ture forth, even though we came to grief, and in
spite — it might be because of — the adverse prophe-
cies of both sportsmen and ostler, who seemed to
think we were on the high way to becoming lunatics,
to go. Still, I reasoned, with my knapsack I had
alone crossed some of the wildest mountain passes
in much such weather, and what I could face surely
my horses could ? Never shall I forget that day or
the abominably bad road, though we fared not so
badly after all.
' Fortune favours the brave.' All being made,
to use a nautical expression, ' snug and taut,' we
started ; the rain, though it did not actually cease,
came down with less vigour, and the wind for the
time seemed to have exhausted itself. Once really
' under way ' we felt quite in spirits again, and re-
membered no longer our misgivings. Collar work
commenced at once on leaving Brough, and stiff
work it was, too ; but fortunately the surface of the
road was moderately good, and we felt inclined to
think its character had been greatly maligned. But,
alas ! a mile or so made a woful difference ; deep
ruts, any quantity of stones, a complete assortment
of all sizes and shapes, from a moderate-sized boulder
to a pebble, covered the path completely, save where,
here and there, a moist treacherous-looking patch of
^1 WILD COUNTRY. 307
grass told of a danc^eroLis soft bit. The mount was
no easy task for the horses, and from time to time
we had to stop for breath and rest them.
Fortunate])', most f()rtunatel)',tlic rain had now en-
tirely ceased, though the wind had not, and although
the look-out was wild, weird, and dreary enough, it
had a certain charm of its own to a vigorous mind.
The dense masses of grey vapour had risen, and a
strange yellow sheen gleamed above us, but we
knew not how lon^ it would be before the clouds
would again descend and envelop us. The view,
looking back from time to time, was simply magni-
ficent ; one might travel miles upon miles in many
countries and not see anything finer ; the wild defile
and the general contour of the land looked more like
a bit of wild Afghanistan than a portion of peaceful,
mellow England ; only the climate was wanting for
the deception to be complete. There was a round
tower on a crag overlooking the road, of primitive
construction, and looking disconsolate and desolate
enough. Far, far away on the horizon w^ere the
dark blue stormy hills of the Lake District, their
summits shrouded in mists ; from their bases to the
foot of the hills at Brough, lying now far below, lay
stretched out before us a wonderful expanse of com-
paratively flat country. Owing to the peculiar state
of the atmosphere, the aerial effects were very fine.
A sea of clouds above, a brooding cold grey world
below, a world of sad browns and dull greens, a
landscape all in tone.
Still the road continued to rise, and b\- this time
we quite considered it had earned its evil reputation ;
3o8 A DRIVE TIIRaUGH ENGLAND.
all signs of cultivation were now left behind, all
about was a barren wilderness. Higher still and
higher went that wonderful road, up amongst the
hurrying clouds ; the cold was intense, but the sum-
mit of the pass was reached at last, and, though
equally rough, the way was now level.
Here, on the lone, wild, desolate heights of Stain-
moor we came across a most interesting relic of the
vanished past, in the shape of the remains of an old
stone cross, known by the name of the Rere Cross.
Little is left of this now but a much weather-worn
stone. Who raised this structure upon this drear
moorland, and for what purpose, must for ever be a
mystery. Tradition says it was originally called the
' Roi-Cross ' — i.e. the King's Cross — and that it was
erected by William the Conqueror and Malcolm,
King of Scotland, who met here prepared for battle,
but who thought better of it, and in place of fighting
concluded a treaty, and elevated on the ground the
above cross, as a mark of the boundary of their king-
doms, causing to be carved on one side of the struc-
ture an image of the King of England, and on the
other that of His Majesty of Scotland. An unlikely
story, to say the least ; but, as history is silent, tradi-
tion has it all her own way.
It is indeed a strange spot on which to raise a
monument of any kind ; no sign of human habitation
was to be seen, nothing but the bleak far-spreading
moorlands, bounded only by circling, mist-soaked
hills of indigo-grey. As we saw the place the pic-
ture was not a lively one — a cold waste of sky over-
head, a bare, brown, grey-green wilderness around, a
A LONELY INN. 309
vast sea of dark peaty soil, no life of any kind
visible, not even that of a leaping fall or running
water.
We proceeded onwards as fast as the state of the
road would allow, keeping an anxious look-out for
any signs of a solitar)' inn the ostler at Brough had
informed us stood all alone by the roadside some
few miles beyond the Rere Cross — a small hostelrie
sometimes kept open for the benefit of sporting
gentlemen. If it should happen to be closed! that
was the disagreeable thought that would keep cross-
ing our minds ; and if it should be, would the horses
be able to drag us on to Bowes ? for to have
endeavoured to have camped out on those chilly
uplands would have been a worse punishment for
our tired steeds than proceeding, tired not so much
from the actual distance traversed as from the hllli-
ness and badness of the way.
Just as we were reasoning to ourselves which
would be the most probable event, a small house
came into view, standing solitary and darkly out
against the waste of grey sky at the edge of the
moor; it looked as though it verily stood at the end
of the world. We 'eagerly scanned it as we drew
nearer and nearer, but we could not see any signs of
life, and with doubting hearts we pulled up at the
door. I descended and knocked, and in my haste
to know the result turned the handle and opened
the door, and a welcome and unexpected sight met
my delighted gaze. A large old-fashioned Yorkshire
kitchen, with a roaring fire in the ample grate, a
woman bending over the same cooking something
3IO A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
evidently savoury by the odour, and, seated on an old
brown oak settle, a hearty- looking man, presumably
watching his dinner cooking. And oh! the contrast
from the grey cold without to the ruddy glow within.
The surprise of the inmates appeared equal to mine,
and it was a minute or two before I could make
them comprehend we were travellers requiring food
and shelter, and not over particular as to the quality
of either. But soon the landlord took it in — and us
as well, and we were soon before that glorious fire
with its welcome warmth. Shortly before our spirits
were at zero, now they were correspondingly high.
The horses had to do the best they could in a
tumble-down old shed, but fortunately it was weather-
tight, and whilst I helped my man to unharness
them, the landlord, worthy man, somewhere found
some oats ; hay or chaff had we none, but the corn
was fair, and the rest and shelter evervthinof.
On returning to the kitchen, what was my
surprise at the landlady ushering me into quite a
neat little parlour, where she had already lighted a
fire, and seated before which was my wife. In the
room was also a luxurious sofa, easy chairs, fair
paintings on the walls, and littered around on some
tables were back numbers of the ' Field,' ' Times,'
' Illustrated London News,' &c. This was surely
magic ; had I seen a locomotive engine suddenly
begin to fly, I could hardly have been more asto-
nished. But the mystery was soon explained. The
rooms had been built and furnished by some sport-
ing gentlemen (long life to them !) who kept up this
place for their own convenience, when shooting on
'KNIGHTS OJ' THE ROAD: 311
the moors. I am sure we felt duly i^rateful to the
sporting fraternity.
Strange stories are told of this desolate inn of
Spital, as it was called in the old coaching times. In
those days it was frequently attacked by robbers ;
such a lonely hostelrie, so far removed from all
human habitations, affording them a tempting and
safe quarry. Upon one occasion, after a band of
thieves had been driven off, it is recorded a ghastly
relic was discovered in the shape of 'a hand of
glory ; ' this consisted of a dead man's hand with a
candle placed in it. According to a superstition
then prevalent, this was believed to show only a
light to those who held it, and to be invisible to all
others.
At one time a certain landlord seems to have
been in league with the kni^jhts of the road, and, in
return for his services to them, to have shared their
spoil. And it is recorded that one of these gentle-
men was exceedingly wroth with the said landlord,
and rated him loudly as being a dishonourable man,
for that whilst he was ' under articles to him,' he gave
information to a rival on the road. These question-
able gentlemen, it would appear, were scrupulous
about their 'word of honour.'
Our dinner was ham and eggs and bottled ale —
a queer mixture you will say, good reader, but may
you never enjoy a meal less than we did that !
Some hot Yorkshire cakes finished our repast. Very
cosy, very cheerful did that little room look, and
sorry we were to leave this oasis in the desert ; but
the day was growing old, we could not remain
312 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
lonoer, and we knew not for certain where our rest-
ing-place for the night would be, so we once more
prepared to face the road and the weather.
The wind now had dropped, and the rain com-
menced aeain in rio^ht-down earnest, and it can rain
on the moors at times ; the road, if possible^ increased
in badness, and going downhill the danger of a
stumble was considerably increased ; however, we
safely descended from the moors and entered the
quaint and interesting, if somewhat bleak, litde
town of Bowes, and upon our arrival there the rain
stopped. Here we saw the original, or the supposed
original, of Dotheboys Hall, which Charles Dickens
so capitally described ; the old house still stands, but
the schoolroom and outbuildings have been pulled
down ; this ceased to exist as a school shortly after
his book was published. It was interesting to see
this place, as giving a reality to fiction, and pleasing
to have such a telling example of how much good
fiction can accomplish. Dickens was too many for
Wackford S queers.
We made a pilgrimage to the churchyard to see
the grave where rest the two faithful lovers whose
touching fate has been so pathetically described in
Mallet's affecting ballad of ' Edwin and Emma.'
Perhaps the following simple unadorned extract from
the parish register will tell the sad tale better than
any words of mine could do : — ' Rodger Wrightson,
jun., and Martha Railton, both of Bowes. Buried in
one grave. He died in a fever, and upon tolling his
passing bell she cried out, "My heart is broke," and
in a few hours expired, purely through love.' We
INN FULL. 313
next inspected the castle ; the only part remaining
of this old stronghold (important once in strengdi
though unimportant in history) is a fine ruined keep
with its four frowning walls.
Uowes is a sleepy little place. The Romans had
a station here p-uardincr the road to Brouc^h over
Stainmoor, and we had driven over the same track
their chariots took ! Crossing those lone uplands
we looked upon the same landscape they looked
upon long ago ; it has probably changed not at all.
But, however important Bowes may have been in
times past, it is a dull, dead-alive enough town now ;
one could not imagine that anybody ever hurried or
bustled himself here.
The little inn here was quite full, and as they
told us the one at our next stage, Greta Bridge, was
full also with ' shooting men,' we held a consultation
as to what course it would be best to pursue. For-
tunately it was not actually raining, though the
lowering water-charc^ed clouds looked as though the
downpour might soon commence. After an inspec-
tion of our maps we finally decided to drive to
Barnard Castle, in Durham, some few miles out of
our way, and being a fair-sized town, we deemed it
best to proceed there, as we judged in such a place
we should be able to procure plenty, and a choice of
accommodation. We had a capital road now, and a
smooth one Vvithal ; after our uneven expf'riences of
late, it appeared as level as a board ; but anything at
all decent would have seemed»to us excellent then.
The approach to Barnard Castle by the road
we took is very romantic. The old ruined castle,
3r4 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
perched boldly on a rocky crag, faced us as we
neared the town, and under the shadow of the dark
frownhig pile we crossed the Tees upon an old stone
bridge. The river, which is here comparatively
tranquil for a space, gives back the stern and rugged
form of the hoary old stronghold ; a fall or weir
in the distance breaks the stillness with its musical
though unvarying monotone. The quaint old town,
too, is pleasing, half revealed through the foliage of
many trees. As we drove up the High Street we
heard the church bells ringing, and observed a
balloon going up ; moreover, we found the place was
very crowded. This was a bad sign. Evidently
there was som.& feic on ; however, there was nothing
for it, so we drove up to the hotel and asked for
rooms. Once more our spirits went down to zero, if
possible even lower, for the landlady, who came
forward, said ' she was very sorry, but she was quite
full — in fact the town was crowded ; it was a flower
show, and she had not a single room disengaged.'
This was pleasant news ! Both ourselves and
our horses were sorely in need of rest and
shelter, and, to add to our troubles, the rain came
down once more in torrents. Just then, for one
moment only, we voted driving tours to be failures.
Fortunately the stables were not crowded ; at any
rate, we concluded we would get the horses put up,
and then hold a consultation as to what was to be
done.
So far our minds were at ease, the horses safe
and comfortable for the night, and for the moment
what was to become of ourselves did not much trouble
A KIND-HEARTED LANDLADY. 315
US. We then went in search of the landlady, to see
if she could not get us a room out somewhere, she
seemed such a pleasant, kind-hearted body. I knew
if it were possible she would somehow manage to
accommodate us ; but if it is not possible, said my
wife, what are we to do ? A very pertinent question
certainly, and one fortunately I had not to answer,
for just then we came across the good dame we were
in search of I at once explained our plight. She
told us not to trouble ourselves, a room we should
have, and eventually a servant came and conducted
us down the street to a private house, which turned
out to be the landlady's own home, and in the
drawing-room here we found a capital fire had been
thoughtfully lighted, and the servants had been in-
structed to do all they could to make us comfortable.
When our bill was presented to us on leaving,
we were surprised to find there was no charge what-
ever made for the extra accommodation that had
been so considerately provided for us, and no doubt
at some little, if not considerable, inconvenience. We
protested against this to the landlady, but she would
neither hear about it nor accept anything more than
the actual sum down in the very moderate bill.
Words were of no avail ; she only said ' she had
done as she would be done by,' and so we were
obliged to leave at last gratefully in her debt. Mere
money of course will not repay a kindness of this
sort, but we had no other way of showing our grati-
tude. Good, kind-hearted, worthy landlady, I would
there were more people like you in the world !
The morning did not break very promisingly.
3i6 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
Althoiig-h the downpour had ceased, there was a
regular Scotch mist on, accompanied by a disagree-
able drizzle, and a very wetting one too. I consulted
the ostler about the weather ; that individual went
out into the road, and, looking sagely about, after a
few seconds' deliberation said, ' he shouldn't be
surprised if it turned to wet.' Good gracious, I
thought, I wonder what they do consider to be wet
in this part of the world !
A look round the town, ulster-clad, in spite of
the general dampness, disposed pleasantly of an hour
or so. The castle ruins and grounds are the lions of
the place. Nearly opposite our hotel was a quaint
old market-hall, which we learnt, by an inscription
upon it, was erected by one Thomas Blake, a native,
in the year 1 747.
Barnard Castle, the town I mean, is a very old
place ; some of the streets we noticed were grass-
grown, and had a melancholy, depressing look ; but
its situation is exceedingly picturesque, being built
on the steep side of a hill, the base of which is swept
by the Tees, an impetuous- looking river, hurrying
along as though eager to get away from the busy
haunts of men. But the delightful old-world look of
the place is quite spoilt by a gigantic edifice, a square,
obtrusive, ostentatious, ugly pile, which we were told
was a museum. Its assertiveness and size makes it
quite an eyesore, and reminded us more than any-
thing else of a gigantic American hotel.
In spite of the ostler's prophecy, by eleven o'clock
the day gave signs of turning out fine, the sunshine
filtered through the mist, the wetting drizzle ceased,
AN EXHILARATING DRIVE. 317
and we at once ordered the horses to be put to, and
were soon again on our way, on past some fine old
timbered houses, grey and brown witli age, and look-
ing as thougli they had seen better days, yet too
l^roud to mourn their vanished glories.
There is something very exhilarating and most
enjoyable driving through the country after rain ; the
air then is so fresh and clear, washed from all im-
purities as it were, and laden with such sweet per-
fumes. The distant views, too, look so near, the
colour everywhere is astonishingly bright and pure,
and all is sharp and luminous ; there is nearly
always, during the clearing up of stormy weather, a
plentiful supply of clouds about, and these cause a
delicious play of light and shade ; and last, but not
least, there is no dust ; mud there certainly is, and
in some parts of the country, for instance the Der-
byshire limestone roads, mud of a most tenacious
character.
We soon now came to the wooded banks of the
Tees, and our roiid descended and crossed the river
by the Abbey bridge, a highly picturesque structure
in a highly picturesque spot. And never shall I for-
get the unexpected beauty-peep we had from the
bridge. The lovely views, both looking up and down
from this spot, were simply enchanting; and the great
pleasure of it was that all this wealth of loveliness
was totally unexpected. A mile of open sunshine
w^as before us, a vista of waving many-coloured woods,
of bright, chattering, laughing waters — yes, laughing
is the onl)- word that will at all describe the sounds
of the tumbling, gambolling, and splashing of the
3i8 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
Tees. What a soothing melody there is in the music
made by the flow of a shallow river over its rocky
bed ! I could listen for hours to the liquid notes of
the sweet wordless songs of such a stream and weary
not.
The rocks through which the Tees has found or
channelled its way are of a hard marble nature, and
the falling waters, as they dash and splash against
these, ring and chime, echo and re-echo in a strangely
delightful manner. Long we halted on that magic
bridge, drinking in the wonders of the scene, a scene
hardly to be described by brush or pen, or even both
combined ; and to crown this picture we saw the
gables and east window (or rather the remains of
one) of a grey old abbey peeping out of a mass of
greenery, almost drowned in a wealth of verdure.
The abbey came upon us quite by surprise, a
most agreeable surprise, and appeared all the more
romantic in consequence. The ruins are not very
extensive, though of great interest and delightfully
situated upon a rising wooded knoll. On the sward
within the chancel two or three stone slabs still re-
main, moss grown and green, with sculptures half
erased ; one of these is to the memory of a certain
abbot, the other to a Rokeby, the lettering of which
is still legible. Little is left now of the once stately
pile ; time and man, the latter being the greater
culprit, have done their work only too well. Here, at
Athelstane Abbey, were the tombs of the once famous
families of Bowes, Fitz-Hugh, and Rokeby, all, alas !
overthrown when the building was laid waste upon
the dissolution of the religious houses.
ii\
A ROMANTIC GLEN. 319
About another mile — a mile of scenic loveliness
— brought us to the classic ground of Rokcby. The
manor of Rokcby was in the possession of the
Rokebys (who lie buried in the abbey we had just
seen) from the Conquest till the time of Charles I.
They were a warlike family, and had distinguished
themselves on many a hard-fought field. Lord
Rokeby, the last of the race, embraced the cause of
the unfortunate king, and his estates were in con-
sequence confiscated.
The grounds are of great beauty, being undu-
lating and well timbered. Mere the Greta joins the
Tees, both rivers flowing through a most romantic
glen. The meeting of the waters is a scene to be
remembered, and one that has been lovingly portrayed
by both poet and painter. Scott and Turner have
made the spot classic for all time to come ; suffice
then will it be for me to say tliat it is as beautiful
as rock, river, over-arching foliage, and tumblin^T,
foaming water can make it. It is one of Nature's
masterpieces, a very fairies' glen. Not only is the eye
pleased, but the ear is so as well ; the gurgling and
splashing of the waters form sweet rhythmical sounds,
that come wafted on the stilly air in a half-mournful
cadence, the untranslatable language of a happy
river.
We now passed Greta Bridge, with its two cosy-
looking, old-fashioned inns, charmingly ensconced in
tall overhanging trees — trees that, like the buildings
they shelter, must have seen many changes and
strange sights on this road. Judging by the size of
these rural hostelries and the extensive stablino:
A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
attached to them, this must have been an important
stage in the days of the old coaches. It is strange
how, being on the road so much and away from rail-
ways, one somehow by degrees comes to regard
them as an unreality, a kind of hallucination of the
brain ; and I verily believe, had we met on our way
the North mail of the olden type bowling along, with
its fast-travelling team and scarlet-coated, gold-laced
guard with sounding horn, we should not have felt
much astonished.
The ostler at Barnard Castle had told us on
starting that we should find capital roads to-day,
with ample hotel accommodation ; so we trotted
merrily along, with no anxiety about quarters, but
with just a slight regret that one of the two pic-
turesque looking inns at Greta were not to be our
halting place.
Some nine miles or more brought us to Fox
Hall, a small wayside hostel. Why it bears such a
grand name I cannot tell ; excepting its title there is
nothing at all grand about the place, indeed very
much the reverse. We observed there were stables
attached to the building, so we pulled up here. The
landlady, who came to the door, seemed surprised Ijp
see us, so we concluded that visitors were strange
articles in this part of the world. Her husband and
son soon appeared upon the scene, and it was not
long before the horses were comfortably stabled.
Stables the landlord had, but neither hay nor corn,
nor any straw for that matter. But we were equal
to the emergency. ' Was there any farmer in the
neighbourhood ? ' we inquired. ' Oh yes ; there
A FORAGING EXPEDITION. 321
was one lived close l)y.' And so two and two were
soon put together, and the result was the landlord's
son went off with a barrow on a foraging expedition,
and in time returned with the ' necessary,' For our-
selves, we were shown into a clean and neat little
sitting-room, evidently for show, not use, with shell
ornaments and wonderful figures in stone china on
the mantelpiece, all of which we duly admired, as
well as the highly-coloured prints of coaches and
horses ; red, blue, and orange tints predominating,
they were striking productions certainly, if not
artistic ones. The horses were strange-looking
animals ; the worthy artist had, it would appear, a
supreme contempt for anatomy, and his perspective
was even more astounding. But the landlady seemed
very proud of her paintings ; she thought them very
life-like, and why should we undeceive her ?
We did not expect much here in the way of
food, and so were pleased and quite contented when
we learnt we could have ham and eggs — the ever-
lasting, never-failing ham and eggs. The landlord
appeared to be a well-informed individual, and,
moreover, of a communicative disposition, so I
indulged in a long chat with him over a pipe in his
own kitchen, which I must say was a much more
cheerful and liveable apartment than the room we
occupied. Much of local history and traditions had
he tD relate, but space will not permit me to repeat
his loner-winded stories here ; they consisted of much
chaff and a little grain, and sadly required winnowing.
As I noticed by my map there were nothing but
small villaocs marked thereon till we reached Harro-
Y
32 2 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
gate, whicli we could not possibly do that day, I
questioned him closely about the inns on the way,
and especially as to our quarters for the night ; but
he soon set my mind in that respect at rest. At the
end of our next stage, at Catterick Bridge, there
was, he told me, a famous inn, with every accommo-
dation a weary traveller could desire — stabling for
over sixty horses, and the rest of the establish ment
in keeping.
We had a delicious day for travelling ; there was
plenty of sunshine, and cloud too for that matter, but
there was no orlare of li";ht. Soon after leavino- Fox
Hall we came to some cross-roads and felt doubtful
as to which to take ; the one straight on appeared
from our travelling map to tend in the right direction,
but it looked so little used we scarcely liked to
venture on it ; the others all bore the impress of
carriage wheels, and were in capital order. But
experience had also taught us that often the old
mail or turnpike roads are nowadays in many parts
of the country those the least employed ; the reason
being the local traffic between two adjacent towns
or villages causes tho?e particular portions of the
roads to be well used and cared for, whilst the
throuofh traffic of the old road is 7til, and tlius it has
in parts the appearance of a mere byway. Whilst
stopping to get out our road-book in order to solve
the important question of route, a boy came into
sight a little distance off and I at once hailed him.
He shouted in reply, 'There be a sign-post at the
corner, she'll tell 'ee.' A .search, however, failed to
discover the post ; so I went after the lad, and on
A VANISHED SIGN-POST. 323
my sa)ing ' There is no sign-post at all,' he looked
amazed, and evidently did not believe me. A pro-
mise of sixpence if he would come and show it to us
brought the worthy )'outh back to the cross-ruads.
On arriving at the spot, he looked about bewildered ;
however, he could not deny the evidence of his own
eyes, and after assuring me the way to Catterick
Bridge was straight on, said, ' Well, I'm blest if I
knows what's ccme to her ; she wur ther' yesterday,
for I seed her mysel', and she wur a good 'un too.'
' Perhaps someone has cut it down and used it for
firewood,' I suggested. ' Maybe, but she wur ther'
lastnoight, that I'll swear.' And so we left him, and
the mystery of the vanished sign-post unsolved.
Whilst on the subject of sign-posts, I may here
state that they are, alas ! in the present year of
grace mostly ' conspicuous by their absence.' I think
I may safely say all the way from Scotland we had
not come across more than six, and of these two
were illegible, and one had somehow got turned
round and was therefore worse than useless. And
it is the same with the milestones ; these are gene-
rally in a dreadfully dilapidated condition, and I
believe I am under the mark in stating that at least
one half of them throughout the country, if any
remnants of that proportion exist entire, are totally
indecipherable, and of the remaining half a small
portion only are perfect and easily read, though with
previous knowledge gathered from a preceding mile-
stone they may be made out ; but if on your journey
you once lose count, you have considerable trouble
to recover yourself Nine, ten, twent)-one, and so
\ 2
324 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
forth in half-obliterated Roman numerals may read
almost anything. Of course there are some grand
exceptions to the rule. Driving into Ripon, we
found for a few miles on our way some capital and
most distinct new iron milestones — if one may use
such an expression. These particular ones arc indeed
by far the best I have ever seen in any part of the
world ; they are solid and strong, with raised letter-
ing (not painted on), not liable to get chipped or
easily disfigured, and each one has a hand pointing
in different directions, so that there can be no mistake.
But, unfortunately, it is not when in sight of a town
that milestones and guide-posts are most useful, but
when traversing lone black moorland roads, or when
passing through a sparsely populated district, then it
is they are a real friend to the traveller.
After leaving the cross-roads, we had a long
toilsome ascent of some miles, and at the top of this
we came upon a lone clump of Scotch firs. We
were now on the highest portion of the mail road
between London and Scotland ; at least so the land-
lord at Fox Hall told us this spot was. From our
vantage height we had a glorious prospect all around,
bounded only by the circling grey of the distant
hills and far-off moors, and, overhead, the illimitable
expanse of wide blue sky looked tenderly down on
all the vast panorama. Elevated and desolate as
this fir-crowned hill was, I would a thousand limes
rather drive over here than over the dreary, cheerless,
and storm-swept Stainmoor.
A few miles of easy descent brought us to the
once far-famed Scotch Corner, where four of the
AN INVITING-LOOKING INN 325
chief old mail roads meet ; it must have been a
regular coachin^^ Clapham Junction in the olden
times.
Farther on, to the left of the way, we passed
what appeared to have been once a fine old manor-
house, now left to desolation and decay, a sad
I)ictiu"e of Time's destroying hand— a home once of
luxury, now Lhc sole abode of tlie hooting owl and
lonely bat— a ruin, around which long rank grasses,
nettles, docks, and entangled briars flourish !
We presently arrived at the banks of the Swale,
swollen by the recent rains and hurr)ing along in
an irresistible flood. It was pleasant to listen to the
cool splashino; and sullen oriimlincf of its bounding
waters. We crossed this fine river on a masfnificent
old stone bridge, the other side of which was the
Catterick Bridge Hotel. Seen from the bridge, this
ancient hostelrie looked most invitinof. It was a
long, low, rambling building of two storeys, with a
capital garden leading down to the river. On driving
up close to it, the appearance of the house improved,
if anything ; it was whitewashed, and looked quite
fresh and clean ; its many and ample bay windows
told of good rooms within — in fact, it was the very
picture of what a country hotel should be. No one
was visible about, so I jumped down, and, finding
the door open, entered. There was a table in the
hall, and on it a hand-belb which I rang, and in
answer to the summons the landlord's daughter came
forth. * We want rooms and accommodation for our
horses,' I said without hesitation, or thinking It even
wortli wliile to ask first as to whether we could be
32 6 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
taken in. Judge then our surprise when, instead of
a ready answer and a hearty welcome, Avhich we had
quite expected, the reply came, ' I'll go and see my
father.' Soon the girl returned saying, 'We have
no rooms.' Somehow, I did not quite believe the
astonishing statement, as, judging from outside ap-
pearances, two coach loads ought not to have filled
the house. ' No rooms ! surely you must be mis-
taken,' I said. The damsel appeared confused,
which convinced me I was right in my conjectures,
though the reason for so strangely refusing us,
especially after what we had heard of the inn,
puzzled me not a little. To my request to see the
landlord, she said she would send him to me. Soon
mine host appeared, and said ' he was very sorry,
but all his rooms were occupied by his own visitors.'
This I did not believe any more than the girl's story,
so I said, ' Anyhow, you have plenty of accommoda-
tion for the horses, so you must take them in, and
meanwhile let us have some tea, and then we'll see
what we will do.' I had never before had such a
reception at an hotel in any part of the world ; so
for the moment I felt as non-plussed at the land-
lord's refusing us quarters as I should have been had
I walked into a London shop to make a purchase,
and been told by the proprietor thereof that his
things were only for show and not for sale. Our
reception, too, was in such marked contrast to the
genuine hospitality shown to us at Barnard Castle.
The landlord appeared surprised when I quietly
told our man to take the horses on to the stables,
and get our belongings out of the carriage. I sup-
CAPITAL STABLING. 327
pose he expected, after what he had said, we should
drive on.
However, we were shown into a very comfort-
able sitting-room, and I at once ordered tea, and
whilst it was getting ready, strolled out to see how
the horses were faring. Nothing could have been
better — capital stables, plenty of good sweet hay and
splendid corn, oats and beans, with a fewsplit peas, and
a man hard at work assisting our groom. So ho ! so
ho ! I thought to myself, there's a change in the pro-
gramme. Being satisfied as to the welfare of our steeds,
I turned to leave the stables, when I encountered
mine hospitable host entering them, and he remarked
to me, looking at the horses, in, however, quite a
different tone to his former one, ' You've got a fine
pair o' tits there, sir, real beauties ' (tits appears to
be a favourite term for small horses in Yorkshire).
* Yes, they are not bad ones,' I replied ; ' and, by the
way, may I ask what is the idea of yours of sending
visitors away, and yet running an hotel ^. ' ' Don't
say anything more about it,' he replied, ' we'll do
w^hat we can to make you comfortable for the night ;
you see the real fact is ' Mere a servant came to
say tea was ready, and ' madam ' was waiting. So
I told the landlord I would go indoors and try his
cheer, and afterwards hear all about the ' real fact.'
On passing the low broad bay window of our
room I looked in, and saw our repast prepared, and
found on entering a sumptuous Yorkshire tea laid
out ; there were chops, eggs, toast, hot cakes, and a
wholesale supply of delicious cream, &c., &;c. Surely
affairs were looking brighter. I endeavoured, by
32S J DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
questioning the girl who waited upon us, to discover
the reason of our cool reception, but failed in my
attempt, so I determined after our meal was over
to ' beard the Douglas in his Ao-w!
I fortunately found mine host in the bar alone,
comfortably smoking a pipe over a glass of grog.
He eviciently knew how to take care of himself.
Ordering another for myself, I filled my briar-root
and began the attack. Said I, ' I've always heard
about Yorkshire hospitality, but you don't seem over-
burdened with that commodity in this particular part
of the country.' ' May be not,' was the laconic and
not very clear rejoinder. ' Well now, supposing we
come to the point,' I continued : ' you know you have
abundance of room and to spare, how was it you
hesitated so at taking us in ; surely with a carriage
and pair you could not doubt our ability to pay our
bill, so now what was your reason in wishing to turn
us away '^ ' ' Well, sir, you're rather hard on me,
really you are ; we scarcely ever do turn visitors
away ; but the real fact of the case is, I am simply a
farmer and not an hotel-keeper ; but my landlord,
when he let me the land, insisted upon my having
this as the house, and moreover insisted on my
keeping it up as an inn, chiefly for the accommoda-
tion of his guests and friends, and those who come
here to attend the races for a fortnight in the year,
which, however, as you see, obliged me to keep the
place open for the rest of the year. I objected at
first to this ; but said he to me, " You need not mind
about it, there are no travellers on the roads nowa-
days, and so, save for two weeks or so a year, no one
A CHAT WITH MINE HOST. 329
will ever trouble you." Upon this, I agreed to take
the farm ; and truly till lately we have not had any
travellers to entertain, but what with bicyclists and
people out on driving tours like yourself, we don't
get much quiet now; and begging your pardon, sir,
it's only natural like (not caring to be an hotel-keeper,
or oth'ervvise than 1 am, a plain farmer) to want to
have my own home a little to myself; not but what,
if I saw they were really put to inconvenience like
yourself, I would do my best for anyone. And now,
sir, I hope you will kindly accept my explanation
and make yourselves quite comfortable, and pardon
me, and say no more about it.' To which, after
hearing all mine host had to say for himself, I at
once agreed, and, to make a long story short, half an
hour saw us capital friends, and over his grog and
pipe he related to me wonderful stories about the
place, of incidents that occurred in the olden days
when itwasoneof the most famous hostelries between
London and the North, of the strange doings that
went on there, and of the wild freaks of certain lords
and ' young bloods ; ' how some horsed the coaches
themselves, and drove them as well, and now and
again by way of an exciting change ' upset the whole
affliir;' and how one Lord Darlington, afterwards the
first Duke of Cleveland, had a wing built to the
hotel for his own especial use and that of his chosen
friends, ' wild ones the whole lot.' Then he related
many of their mad pranks, and how the aforesaid
noble lord kept here his own cellar of wine, and how
he and his companions sat up nightly gambling at
cards ' in a st)de a lord ought to gamble.' The grog
330 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
(the landlord's, that is) was replenished from time to
time, the stories grew wilder, more exciting, and at
last terribly interesting, and certainly of a sort not
relatable here, and we chatted and laughed and anon
grew serious over some ghostly legend, till at last
we found ourselves nodding in our respective arm-
chairs. And then I suggested it was about time to
retire to rest, and bade my entertainer good-night.
33^
CHAPTER XIX.
A Haunted Inn— Early Rising— Old Roman Remains— A Chapel
under a Bridge — Lord Darlington's Rooms— Easby Abbey— Rich-
mond Castle — A Legend of King Arthur — Weather bound — Ripon
— A Chamber of Horrors — Fountains Abbey — Harrogate— Knares-
borough — The Dripping Well — Saint Robert's Cavern— Eugene
Aram and his Victim —Four Jolly Priests — Quaint Old Inscriptions
— Bolton Priory — A ' Griesly Sight ' — The Abbey Despoilers —
The Strid — A Pretty Tradition Spoilt — Ilkley— Mysterious Monu-
ments — The \'alley of the Wharfe — Otley— The Ducking Stool —
Harewood Castle and Church — The Knights of Old — Ancient
Tombs — A Famous Judge — Leeds.
Our bed-room at the Catterick Bridge Hotel, with
its ancient furniture and general faded appearance,
was not exactly a cheerful chamber ; indeed, the
thought forcibly struck me as I entered it, what a
capital sketch it would make for a picture of a
Haunted Room ! However, I was far too tired to
think of sketching, and neither of us having any
faith in ghosts, its eerie look troubled us but little,
and we were both soon in dream-land. We must
have slept for some time when we were awakened
by what sounded to us as though somebody was
gently tapping a tour door. I at once rose, and,
lighting a candle, looked out into space. Nobody was
there. Then suddenly I heard what sounded to me
like a light footstep, as though some one was going
down-stairs. I looked over the banisters, but though
I most certainly and plainly heard the pat, pat.
332 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
patter continued, I could see absolutely nothing. I
certainly was not dreaming, being unfortunately very
wide awake. Then the sounds ceased, and all was
silence, save the solemn tick, tick, tick, of the old grand-
father's clock on the landing, which sounded preter-
naturally loud. Were we actually in a haunted house,
and had I positively come across, or heard, a real
live ghost, or what caused those strange sounds }
Not being able to solve the problem, I retired to
bed again and listened ; curiosity and a sort of unde-
fined nervousness prevented me from sleeping readily.
Just, however, as I was about dropping off, once
more came the tapping sounds. I jumped up at once ;
the mystery was solved ; the tapping was caused
evidently by a rat gnawing at our door. Taking the
poker and a light, I sallied out. My conjecture was
correct ; there surely enough was a big, fat, overfed
rat, hurriedly niaking for the staircase, down which
he went, flop, flop, Hop, not easily seen in the un-
certain candle-light. Though not over pleased with
the discovery, still I had the satisfaction of feeling
that I had laid the ghost. Had not, however, master
rat ventured forth once again, the sounds, that ap-
peared to me the first time to be as of somebody
tapping at our door and afterwards tripping down-
stairs, would have remained unaccountable.
In spite of my mild dissipation of the previous
evening, and in spite also, it may be, because of the
episode of the rat, I rose early the next morning ; in
fact, the sun shone so brighdy in our room, I could
not have slept on even had I felt so inclined. As a
rule, I must confess I am not what is called an early
EARL V lUS/NG. 333
bird ; the early worm is not for me, at least not in
towns where there is nothing to reward you for ^oiir
virtue, save a peep at smoky chimneys and an array
of servants cleaning- doorsteps.
But in the country matters are quite on a different
footing. There is a wonderful freshness and a beauty
in the early morning, unequalled by any other por-
tion of the day ; the air tlien is so clear, and pure,
and fraorrant, the leaves of the trees and the hedfre-
rows are all sparkling with innumerable drops- of
dew, which llash forth ruby, topaz, and opal in the
sun. The birds are all chanting their anthems of
gladness and liberty with the clearest of notes, and
all Nature seems rejoiced at having parted with the
ijloom of nitrht.
Ruminatino;- somewhat in this fashion, and think-
ing after all now that I was up what in the world I
should do with myself till breakfast time, I was
suddenly aroused from my reverie by the landlord's
hearty voice. ' Glad to see you up, sir ; you're one of
the right sort — rise with the lark. So do I ; nothing
like being up betimes. Now what do you say to a
ramble across yonder,' pointing indefinitely to some
fields, ' and see what remains of the old Roman wall,
that is, if you don't mind the damp — only dew, and
that never hurts anyone.' * Oh ! I don't mind the
dew,' I replied ; ' I shall be only too pleased to go.'
I soon found out I might as well have been walking
along a country brook as through the long lank
grass, for my boots, supposed to be waterproof, were
certainl)ii()td(nvj)roof, and they were soon thoroughly
wet throutjh. However, we reached the wall at last.
334 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
or rather that portion of it that remained above
ground, and my guide pointed out to me an inscrip-
tion on one of the stones. After a vain endeavour
to make anything out of it, I carefully copied it, in
case anyone else might be more fortunate than my-
self in puzzling the meaning out. It was as follows:
\\AKQM. Please note the reversed D,
And now, after a hearty and a regular Yorkshire
breakfast — a meal that would astonish a Londoner
in respect of the variety and excellence of the repast
— I placed myself once more at the service of my now
friendly host, to see what else he might have to
show me. He took me over the old house, and
then into the garden, where he pointed out what
used to be a small secret chapel, built right under
one end of the bridge, and now used as a coal-
cellar by my worthy guide. The tradition handed
down might be true, that this place was really used
as a secret chapel ; but at any time such a vault like
chamber must have been damp, dark, and forbidding.
And then who used it ? and how could it have been
built so close to the highway without 'the other side'
learning what was going on ? and how could the
worshippers assemble without being discovered ? are
pertinent questions easier asked than answered — at
least the landlord could not reply to them satisfac-
torily. However, I felt a considerable interest in
the spot, as it looked as though it possessed a his-
tory. Mine host had had a hole cut through the
^l^ched stone roof to the roadway above, and thus
procured an entry for his coals— practical but un-
romantic man ! \Vhatf;ver may have been its uses
OLD ROOMS. 335
in times past, it had evidently been dcsig^ncd for
some special purpose, and was well worthy of in-
spection.
The bridge itself called forth my unqualified
admiration. It is a beautiful stone structure, boldly
designed and strongly built, as it need be to hold
its own against the impetuous Swale. The landlord
pointed out to me how the bridge had been widened
and altered. The old original bridge was a wonder-
fully narrow affair, hardly affording space for a
carriage ; indeed, I doubt much if it was intended
for more than men and cattle. It was built early in
the fourteenth century, and was a wonderfully bold
production for that time. Wonderful I have said ;
but when I remember the grand old castles, abbeys,
ancient halls, and manor houses, &c., I recollect that
it is our ancestors who knew how to build, and we,
their enlightened descendants, who have yet to
learn how to follow in their footsteps with advan-
tage in this respect.
I noticed by a milestone on the bridge (a legible
one) that the distance to London was from here by
the direct road 225 miles, being a difference of three
miles to the distance given in ' Paterson's Roads.'
We now went indoors again, and inspected the
wing built for Lord Darlington. T\\(i rooms were
very fine, with lofty ceilings, one of which was en-
riched by a coat-of-arms and motto in high relief
The hotel itself was a curious, old-fashioned, ram-
bling building, well worth going over, and a capital
example of what tlie good old coaching inns of our
forefithers were like On tlic aini)l(' landing of the
336 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
Staircase — our ancestors liked plenty of elbow-room
— I noticed the ancient pedestal clock, my friend of
the night, still going and keeping excellent time,
though it must have seen many generations of
owners. Poor old despised clock ! put aside in a
corner, evidently to be out of the way as being out
of date, and yet the showy American timepiece and
useless French clock that have usurped your place
are, compared to )'Ou, but worthless rubbish. You
will, in all probability, be in vigorous existence, and
marking with accustomed accuracy the passing hours,
when your foreign rivals will be long worn out and
done for.
One interesting fact my host told me, that before
him, for the last one hundred years, there had only
been two tenants. The initials of the last one, ' J. F.,
182 I,' he pointed out to me, laid in dark flints, at
one end of the extensive cobble pavement which
fronted all the long row of stables. On this pave-
ment, in the olden days, a blade of grass would have
had but a poor chance of existing, and now it costs
£2) a year to keep it tolerably clear of weeds.
As we found there was a delightful walk from
our inn of a little over three miles to the quaint old-
world town of Richmond, and also that there was a
fine ruined abbey to be seen on the way, we deter-
mined to devote the morning to exploring these
places. Easby Abbey is a gem of a ruin. Nature
here has done her best. The many trees of rich
foliage, some gnarled and moss-grown, the bright,
clear river murmuring over its pebbly bed, the
flower-bedecked sward, the wealth of greenery
A ROMANTIC TOWN. 337
around, and peep of bold blue hills beyond, form
a scene of almost enchanting beauty. Man has
supplied the ruins necessary to give a human in-
terest to the spot, Nature has done the rest. A
fitting memorial of the old monks is Easby ; ivy has
claimed the old fane for her own, and decorated it
as only ivy can. We wandered long and lovingly
about the spot ; the warm sunlight fell softly on the
abbey walls and on the trees around, as though in
love with the once hallowed pile. The rooks above
were holding noisy matins on their own account, the
summer wind made gentle music with the rustling
leaves in harmony with the melody of the running
water. What more of beauty could the heart desire ?
The earth has not a fairer spot to show.
Now on to Richmond — a delightfully romantic
town — with its bold castle- crowned height, its an-
tique buildings, its grass-grown streets, its gurg-
ling river, and glorious landscape around. It was
George IV,, I think, who declared the prospect from
the old tower here to be the finest he had ever
beheld. The castle is a grand building ; its keep
rises to the height of a hundred feet, and its walls are
eleven feet thick, and these again are strengthened
by mighty buttresses — solid work this. The lowest
chamber of the keep is worth observing, on account
of the massive octagonal pillar from which the
groined arches of the vaulted stone roof spring,
and also for the rusty old iron rings still existing
attached to it. And how shall I describe the view
from the summit ? A vast expanse of woods and
fields, of hills and dales, of river and distant suc-
Z
338 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
cession of moorlajids stretching away and away till
lost in a misty purple haze. Alas ! any word-picture
of such a scene must utterly fail to do justice to it ;
rather would I leave it to the imao^ination of the
reader.
Tradition says that in a mighty cavern somewhere
beneath the castle walls, in a deep enchanted sleep, lie
King Arthur and his warriors bold, awaiting the day
of England's need. And there is a legend to the effect
that many many years ago a certain citizen of the
town, one Potter Thompson, by some strange chance
one night discovered the entrance to the magic cave.
On one side of this was hung a sword, on the other
a horn. Looking down upon the sleeping multitude
Thompson lifted his hand to the sword and half
raised it out of its sheath, but he let it fall again,
frightened by the stir among the sleepers, and
terror-stricken he fled, and as he ran he heard a
mysterious voice crying : —
Potter, Potter Thompson !
If thou hadst cither drawn
The sword or blown the horn,
Thou'dst been the luckiest man
That ever was born.
It was late in the afternoon when we left Catterick
Bridge, and, bidding good-bye to our entertaining
landlord, once more resumed our wanderings. At
Leeming, a small village we passed through, we
noticed a quaint old hostel, which had evidently
seen better days, which possessed a bit of art work
in the shape of a very fine oak (presumably) door ;
certainly there was ample evidence that some village
AN AUCTIONEERS DESCRIPTION 339
hand had done its best to spoil the beauty of the
carvinci: by some thick coats of paint bestowed in a
most Hberal manner, but still enoui^di could be made
out to show that ori_L,nnally it had i)Ossessed consi-
derable merit. It was a source of some wonder-
ment to us how this doorway should have found a
position amid such untoward surroundings, when it
suddenly struck us that it would just suit, in shape
and size, the secret chapel under the Catterick
Bridge, and we felt, on closer inspection, convinced
that it had found its way here from that place.
The beauty of the scenery we were now driving
along almost baffles description. It was a scene
that would have taxed the powers of even the re-
nowned George Robins to have described, concern-
ing whose talents in this respect a story is related
that a certain gentleman being tired of an estate he
had recently purchased, placed it in the hands of the
famous auctioneer to dispose of. Calling some time
afterwards at the office, the gentleman said he had
read a most charming description of a property for
sale in that day's ' Times,' and desired to know fur-
ther particulars. 'Why,' replied Mr. Robins quietly,
' that's your own place.' ' My place,' said the as-
tonished owner, ' why, I had no idea it was half so
beautiful ; I'm not going to part with such a lovely
spot.'
Our road was now simply perfection, smooth as
a board, soft for the horses' feet, and level — three
excellent and rare qualities — and so we spun along
at a famous pace. After traversing nine miles of as
pleasant a country as there is anywhere to be found,
z 2
340 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
we came to the little hamlet of Londonderry. A
sign-board, with a well-painted design upon it, called
our attention to a small, unpretending country hos-
telrie, but which looked neat and clean, and moreover
had stabling attached. We, therefore, determined
to bait here. There was a welcome surprise await-
ing us on entering the inn, in finding a snug and
cheerful sitting room, and, what is more, a landlady
to match. To our query as to what we could have
for dinner, we half feared and were prepared for the
usual reply of late, that ' they could only offer us
ham and eggs.' What was our delight to learn then,
we could have roast mutton, vegetables, sweets, and
cheese to follow ! To-day we certainly fared well,
and the dinner was excellent.
It was well our lines had fallen, for the time, in
pleasant places, for while we were enjoying the good
fare within the sky without suddenly grew overcast,
and the rain came down in torrents. For a time we
watched the steady downpour, but found it a poor
amusement ; our aneroid was steadily falling, and
we had every prospect of having to continue our
journey in the wet. At seven o'clock it was raining
as hard as ever, and after a consultation as to what
under the circumstances was the best course to
pursue, we sent for the landlady, and asked if by
any possibility (the inn was a very small place) she
could manage to put us up for the night. She said
she would see, and eventually she managed it. We
had a small and scantily furnished room, but the
linen was clean, and we slept well that night at the
tiny wayside hostelrie at Londonderry.
A CHAMBER OF HORRORS. 341
On awakening next day to a olorious niorninL;-,
we found the sun was shining brightly, and the air
was clear and fragrant after the rain of the pre-
vious night. A pleasant drive of some dozen miles
brought us to the picturesque little cathedral town
of Ripon. Baiting the horses here, and not forgetting
our own requirements, we afterwards strolled out to
inspect the ancient minster, a fine old building which
must be of great interest to archceologists, on account
of the many different styles of architecture contained
in it, ranging from the sturdy Norman, and even
earlier Saxon, to the light and graceful decorated
Gothic. We did not descend into the cr)'pt, nor
view the chamber of horrors, as my wife called it,
which is known by the name of Bone House, a vault
paved and walled with human bones — four feet deep
on the floor and six feet thick round the walls are
these ghastly relics of poor frail mortality — we pre-
ferred the green trees and bright sunshine ; besides,
was not Fountains Abbey only three miles off, and
why should we waste time in dismal sights ? So we
started for those grand old ruins. A pleasant walk
along a pleasant country road brought us to Studley
Royal. Here we found a large party already
assembled, ready to be handed over to the tender
mercies of the guide, with his long-winded histories
and theatrical surprise peeps and tricks. We man
aged by fair words and bribery to be allowed to
visit the ruins at our leisure and in peace.
An old abbey, such as this, appears to me to be
the culmination of all that is romantic and beautiful
in architecture ; the)- are dreams in stone, poems in
342 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
buildings erected to the glory of God and to the
glory also of the Church militant ; they are a glory to
their aoe and the frenius of their builders. The men
who raised these wonderful structures are not of our
day or time. We can look and admire, but we can-
not do the like.
Only four materials were allowed in the construc-
tion of these glorious edifices — stone and lead, wood
and glass. Simplicity is the soul of beauty. The
greatest painters use the fewest colours.
Surely since the world began until now, no works
of man's hand that have ever been raised upon this
mother earth have equalled in beauty these grand old
religious fanes. Let us endeavour for a moment to
restore and re-monk this superb old ruin, as it was
in the days of old. Look up towards the high altar,
all ablaze with lights and jewelled art, before which
the solemn monks are chanting : what a charm of
vanishing perspective, of light and shade, of well-
ordered space, and pleasing, blending forms ! Cast
your eyes upwards to the soaring stone vaulting,
half lost in a hidden mystery of colour dimness,
caused by the sunlight being softened and filtered
through those rare windows of walled light. Look
at all this and much more, the exquisitely carved oak,
quaintly humorous, yet somehow strangely enough in
harmony with the whole ; look at the finely chiselled
stone, inanimate yet full of life, and tell me has the
world ever seen the like ? The world has not the
mighty faith of old. Superstition, you say, good
reader — well, be it so ; I prefer a glorious superstition
to a dead unbelief.
AN EVENING STAGE. 343
As wc retraced our sU:ps iviponwards, (^veniii^'
stole upon us calm and L,''olden. Against the luminous
orange sky the old cathedral tower stood grandly out,
a mass of cool grey ; the winding river had caught
the glow of the west, and flowed on, a streak of liquid
gold, and here and there a window gleamed in the
light, and one restless vane (lashed ever and anon.
Away above in the silvery blue was the pale ghost
of the crescent moon dimly visible. The drowsy
wind was whispering plaintively through the quiver-
ing trees. It was the lovers' Ijour, a time of peace
and deep tranquillity. 'What an evening for a drive !'
we both exclaimed ; ' why i:hould we not make a stage
on to Harrogate in the quiet gloaming.' Why not,
indeed ; what could be more delightl'ul .-* And so we
hurried along, and ordered the phaeton to be got
ready as soon as possible, and were, without any un-
necessary delay, once again on our way. The day
was dying fast — only a few faint lines of crimson and
amber were left in the sky, against which the nearer
trees and houses stood out almost black.
At Harrogate we remained over three da)'s
* doing the place,' drinking the waters, which left a
taste as of copper in our mouths for hours afterwards.
I wonder are certain people so enthusiastic over them
because they are so nasty ? One invalid at our hotel
(about the" only one, by the way), sent to the spa for
the benefit of his health, wise in his generation, told
mc with a knowing look he took the waters in the
shape of abath, and found them, taken thus externally,
equally as efficacious and a great deal more agree-
able than internall)-. And possibly he was right
344 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
(doctors notwithstanding), for I doubt not but that
the fine invigorating- air — the best of all tonics — the
change of scene, and the simple and regular diet pre-
scribed, have as much to do with cures as the evil
smelling and worst tasting waters.
We devoted one day of our sojourn here to a
visit to the picturesque little town of Knaresborough.
Not much remains of the once fine old feudal strong-
hold there, though it was an extensive building in
its day, covering altogether considerably over two
acres. As a specimen of its strength, it is worth
while to notice the massiveness of the walls of the
keep ; these are no less than eighteen feet thick, all of
hewn stone. Before the age of gunpowder such a
castle, properly defended, could only have been cap-
tured by starving the garrison into submission.
The famous dripping well next claimed our atten-
tion. This is situated in a romantic glen, and consists
of a hollow in the rocks, over a projecting ledge of
which the waters trickle down in innumerable rills,
at the rate of twenty gallons a minute. This is also
a petrifying well, the water being strongly impreg-
nated with carbonate of lime. According to tradi-
tion, at the foot of this rock the renowned Mother
Shipton was born, a rather strange place for tradition
to select for such an interesting event.
But what interested us most at Knaresborough
was Saint Robert's Chapel, a cavern hewn out of the
solid rock on the side of a hill, just on the outskirts
of the town. It is but a small chamber some ten
feet square and about eight feet in height, at one end
of which are the remains of what has evidently been
FACT versus FICTION. 545
an altar, also chiselled out of the stone, and which
bears evidences of being simply but effectually de-
corated in the Gothic style. Close to the entrance
doorway is a rudely sculptured and much weathered
fiofure of a warrior with raised sword, as thouLdi
guarding- the approach. This interesting cavern-
chapel is reputed to have been hollowed out by
one Saint Robert of Knaresborousrh, a reliL-ious
recluse.
This saintly abode was afterwards the scene of
a dreadful murder. It was in this very cave that
Eugene Aram and his two accomj)lices, John House-
man and Daniel Clarke, met to divide their unlawful
spoils. The two former had previously planned to
do away with Clarke, so as to increase their share of
plunder. This they did, and buried his body on the
spot. How long years afterwards the deed was dis-
covered by a thoughtless remark of Houseman's,
and how Eugene Aram suffered for the crime, are
matters of history and romance — truth which, if it
were told as fiction, would be deemed utterly impro-
bable, and the sensational creation of a morbid
imagination. Like the ancient mariner, \vho, long
years ago — when all things were possible, and there
were golden cities in far-off Cathay, and El Dorados
beyond the sea, and strange wonders in distant lands
— having returned home, was relating for the especial
benefit of his aged parents the many astounding
sicrhts he had witnessed, &c. And amono^st other
things he said he liad seen a fish ^y (the onl)- true
statement, \)\ the way, in his whole story). ' There
now,' said his enraged father ; ' I will believe all the
546 A DRIVE THROVGH ENGLAND.
rest, but that you have seen a fish fl}^ that is too
much for me.'
Upon descending from the hermit's cave to the
road, we encountered a carriage with four jolly
looking priests in it, Roman Catholics we took them
to be, and we thought what capital monks they would
have made. The driver pulled up, and, pointing his
whip to the hermitage, said : ' That's Saint Robert's
Chapel, gentlemen.' The priests looked at each
other. ' I am not going up,' said one ; ' Nor I,' said
another, * too hot to climb.' ' What a fool the fellow
must have been !' remarked the third, and at this they
all laughed. And then the party drove away, but
the conversation we overheard set us thinking a good
deal. For those four worthies the life Saint Robert
lived would evidently have had but few attractions.
Doubtless their motto was to make the best of both
worlds.
From H arrogate we had a orlorious drive over
some fine rolling moorland country to Bolton Priory,
or Abbey, as it is more generally called. In some of
the houses about Bolton we noticed built into the
walls old carved stones and beams with strange in-
scriptions thereon and curious sculptures, possibly
spoils from the old monastery. One consisted of a
grinning demon chiselled in stone, with the legend
beneath, * Resist me, and I will flee.' On an old
weather-browned beam in another cottage the
following words are cut in quaint old English
characters : —
^I)ow pat pacGco bg gio waj?,
(s)uc Jloe ^ilai'ia I)ci-c noju oan.
CURIOUS INSCRIPTIONS. 347
Writing of inscriptions reminds me of a most
curious and somewhat uncharitable one we observed
on passinjj;- throui^h \\\(\ little village of Nesscliff, in
Shropshire, on a previous journey. It was boldly
inscribed on a school building, and ran in this
wise : —
Ciod prosper and prolonge this public good :
A school erected where a chapel stood.
Bolton Priory, with its surroundings, is a sweet
idyll for dreamers, a spot to be seen, not described.
The building is not all in ruins ; a portion of the old
walls have been roofed and repaired, and this restored
part is now used as a parish church.
In the shattered fabric's heart
Remaineth one protected part.
The half-completed abbey tower tells its own story
and points its own moral. It stands proudly, mourn-
fully, and unfinished, just as when the last builder
left it over three centuries ago. Strangely enough,
it is built so as to hide the stately west front of the
old priory ; why and wherefore so curiously placed
is a problem difiicult to solve. On the tower is an
inscription, cut deeply in old English letters, inform-
ing the reader that one ' R ^ ' founded it ; Richard
Moon being the name of the last prior, who com-
menced the tower in 1520. It was a strange conceit
to write names in those days thus enigmatically.
At the east end of the north aisle is the spot
whereon stood a chantry chapel. In a vault beneath
this the warlike family of Claphams, of Bramsley, had
their place of sepultures — a race who appeared never
to be hapi)y unless there was some amusement for
348 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
them in the shape of fighting going on. According
to Wordsworth they were interred upright : —
Pass, pass, who will, yon chantry door ;
And through the chink in the fractured floor
Look down, and see a griesly sight :
A vault where the bodies are buried upright !
There, face by face, and hand by hand.
The Claphams and Mauleverers stand ;
And in his place, among son and sire.
Is John de Clapham, that fierce esquire,
A valiant man and a name of dread
In the ruthless wars of the White 'and Red ;
Who dragged Earl Pembroke from Banbury Church,
And smote off his head on the stones of the porch !
No longer now is the 'griesly sight' visible. When
the old abbey was given over to devastation by the
myrmidons of Henry VIII., the despoilers, as was
their wont, actually dug up the long-interred dead,
and broke open their coffins for the sake of the lead !
Priors, nobles, monks, knights, all were disentombed
— no distinction was made. And the old carved oak
work, rich and rare, was actually employed as fuel to
melt the lead !
What associations of the past do not these old
ruins call up ! Times have strangely changed since
this old fane arose in glorious Gothic majesty, when
through ' the long-drawn aisle ' the pealing organ
sounded to the chanting of the monks. The very
hi'di altar is now defaced and overgrown with mosses
and weeds. Dead long years ago are the monks
and worshippers at their shrine ; their ashes even
were not allowed to sleep in peace, Still beautiful
is the once sacred pile, even in its decay, standing
thus all forlorn. But a truce to romancing. A party
of sight-seeing trippers have arrived, laughing and
A FATAL LEAP. 349
scream inc,^ Only the stern present is before us. ]\Iore
excursionists are coming- ; their noisy laughter and
forced jests seem strangely out of place here. Let
us go.
From the priory we walked up and along the
Wharfe Valley, a delightfully wooded glen, made
beautiful by rich foliage, grey, water-worn rocks, and
a tumbling, foaming river. After a most enjoyable
ramble we arrived at the Strid. Here the impetuous
river, hemmed in by rocks on either side, becomes
more impetuous still ; from a width of fifty feet it is
confined to a narrow channel only five feet wide. It
was at this spot young Romilly met his death, as
S(^veral who have foolishly attempted the jump have
done since. It is not a difficult leap, but failure to
reach the other side is certain death ; the resistless
rush of the water would overpower the strongest
swimmer. It appears the young heir of Bolton had
often taken the leap, but on this occasion he was
suddenly checked by his greyhound hanging back in
the leash, and was thrown into the boilincf caldron
of waters below and drowned —
Now there is stillness in the vale
And long, unspeaking sorrow :
Wharfe shall be to pitying hearts
A name more sad than Yarrow.
A servant who observed the catastrophe, return-
ing to the boy's mother, too frightened to state the
direct truth, asked, ' What is good for a bootless
bene?' The Lady Adeliza, divining some terrible
calamity had taken place, replied, ' 1 'Endless sorrow.'
There is a pretty tradition that. ui)on the loss of
350 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
her son, his widowed mother founded the stately
Priory of Bolton, in which the monks were to say
daily masses for the repose of his soul. Unfor-
tunately for the tradition, which is otherwise not
improbable, no mention of such an origin is even re-
ferred to in any of the MSS. of the Bolton monks ;
had such been the case, they could hardly have
avoided mentioning it. But still more fatal to the
legend is the fact that in the ' Monasticon Angli-
canum ' this very Romilly is mentioned as being a
party to the transaction whereby the manor of Bolton
was secured for the erection of a priory. His death
must have occurred after that charter was granted.
It is a pity to spoil such a touching romance ; but
then, * facts are facts, sir.'
Returning to Bolton, we drove along a lovely
valley to Ilkley, once an obscure village, now a
famous spa, with several hydropathics, hotels,
numerous shops, paved streets, gas, and all the
luxuries of modern civilization. But its restful quiet,
its peaceful rural beauty is gone for ever. Even the
grand boulders that of old bestrewed its wild moors
have been blasted and carted away for building
purposes.
In the evening we wandered into the churchyard
here, and inspected the three so-called Runic crosses.
Runic, Celtic, Saxon, or whatever they may be, they
are certainly very curious and most interesting relics
of the unknown and undiscoverable past. Anti-
quarians have had many disputes and arguments
over these, without any good result ; one of whom, an
authority, says : ' People insist upon calling these
ANCIENT CROSSES. 351
monuments crosses, though they have not the
smallest characteristic of a cross.' They certainly
bear no resemblance to such now, being merely three
obelisks of stone, broken at the top, and quaintly
decorated with carvings ; but bearing in mind the
similarity of the pedestals to those of other crosses,
notably the one at Eyam, and the fact of there being
three in number, we concluded these pillars had at
one time supported crosses. Paulinus is reported to
have preached here about a.d. 626, and it is stated
that where he baptized three crosses were raised.
The idea, therefore, is not improbable that these are
relics of those memorials, and if so, these stones with
tlieir quaint carvings are over a thousand years old.
They may possibly have remained perfect till the
year 1642, or thereabouts, as byorder of the General
Assembly of that date several such crosses were
ordered to be broken up, as being objects of super-
stition. Indeed, these very stones actually did duty
as gateposts, till a former vicar rescued them and
restored them to the churchyard. Altogether the
twisted knots, the scroll work, amongst which strange
animals are introduced, are deserving the closest in-
spection. The workmanship of these shafts proves,
at any rate, that at a very early date sculptured
monuments of elaborate and artistic designs were
executed and erected in England.
The next morning we continued our journey,
driving down the valley of the Wharfe. On either
side of us were sloping hills, richly wooded at their
bases, and cultivated for some height, tlicir sum-
mits consisting of undulating lin(\s of purple moors.
352 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
This valley is eminently a beautiful one ; it is neither
too narrow to be gloomy nor too wide to lose its
vale-like character, and the scenery varies pleasantly
every mile or so of the way.
Presently we reached Otley, a busy little town,
the capital of Wharfedale. In Yorkshire the Anglo-
Saxon word ' dale ' is still retained for valley, as in
the case of some portions of Derbyshire : for instance,
Dove Dale, Darley Dale, &c., and the word dales-
man is frequently employed by the natives thereof.
Otley is a very ancient town ; one of the first
churches ever raised in England was erected here
by Paulinus in a.d. 627, at which time it was the
regal seat of the King of Northumbria. So it is
of no mushroom growth, and can boast of a long
historic past,
Otley was about the last place in England to re-
tain that now forgotten instrument of punishment,
a ducking-stool — an instrument especially employed
for the punishment of scolds. Let an old poem
describe its use : —
Down in the deep the stool descends,
But here at first we miss our ends ;
She mounts again and rages more
Than ever vixen did before.
If so, my friend, pray let her take
A second turn into the lake ;
And rather than your patience lose.
Thrice and again repeat the dose.
No brawling wives, no furious wenches,
No fire so hot but water quenches.
On now we continued till we reached the pic-
turesque little village of Harewood, just before en-
tering which we dismounted to inspect the ivy-
AN OLD CnURCn. 353
mantled ruins of an old caslle of the same name.
History is strangely silent as to how this ancient
stronghold came to be dismantled ; in 1630 it was in
good order and repair. Possibly it was demolished
by order of the Parliament some years later, as in
1646 several castles were commanded to be de-
stroyed. And very effectually the destructive orders
were carried out. The ruins are both picturesque
and interesting, and form a very pleasing picture in
the landscape.
The old church at Harewood is well worth in-
spection, as, too, is Harewood House, with its art
treasures and 150 acres of pleasure gardens laid out
by the famous ' Capability ' Brown. The house is
shown to visitors, but we decided to look over the
church, in which we were told there were some fine
monuments. We could nowhere discover the clerk ;
like a policeman, this individual is never to be found
when wanted. So we ventured to call at the vicarage,
intending to have sent in our cards, and ask per-
mission to view the old edifice. On opening the
garden gates we met a young lady, whom we pre-
sumed to be the vicar's daughter. She at once said
we could have the keys, and most kindly returned to
the house with us and procured them, and then left
us to ourselves to inspect the church at leisure. The
keys were evidently old ones, being of quaint and
uncommon design. The approach was along an
avenue of trees, fully half a mile in length, with over-
arching foliage above, a bit of Nature's Gothic work.
The interior of the building is plain, but the
tombs are very fine and most interesting. Here is a
A A
354 A DRIi^E THROUGH ENGLAND.
Stately monument to Sir William Gascoigne, Lord-
Chief Justice of England, a famous name in history.
Other very ancient and beautiful altar tombs there
are with recumljent figures thereon, exquisitely
chiselled in alabaster ; one fine lady resting in stone
effigy by her husband, a knight in full armour, we
observed had rings on the tops of all her fingers. As
these sculptured stones appear to be good likenesses of
the noblemen and ladies they are suppc)sed to repre-
sent, and reproduce also the dress and armour of the
period in minute detail, they are deserving of most
careful study. In observing the armour of the knights
on old tombs, it is worthy of notice that very often the
long-pointed boot or shoe (apparently so useless, but
which allowed them to keep a firm hold of their
stirrups, acting like a claw) has frequently been
broken away, and the repairer, restorer, or whatever
he pleases to call himself, has without sufficient
knowledge or information restored these quite flat.
During our travels we have noticed several thus
wrongly restored. Unfortunately, the sharp, project-
ing pointed foot was easily broken and damaged.
Returning to our inn, ahead, where our road lay,
we noticed the sky looked very red and thundery;
but the ostler informed us it was often like that — it
was only the smoke of Leeds ; and morever, he told
us that only kist week two ladies driving in a pony-
carriage actually remained over here for three days,
they felt so sure each day that a storm was imminent,
and would not proceed.
Driving into the sultry atmosphere and bustle,
dust, and noise of the thronged streets of a busy
A HUNT FOR QUARTERS. 355
manufacturing town, threading- our way past tram-
cars and 'buses, was an unpleasant chant^e from the
restful, rural, ([uiet beauty we had so long been ac-
customed to. We had a tiresome hunt for an hot(;l
in Leeds, and when at last we found one (the
Queen's, where we had excellent quarters), it had no
stabling, so that entailed another drive through
strange streets and puzzling by-ways in search of
accommodation for our horses. At last we dis-
covered some livery stables, and after seeing to the
comfort of our steeds we returned to the inn.
A A 2
i;6 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
CHAPTER XX.
A Black Road — Wakefield — A Chapel on a Bridge — Black Barnsley —
Sunshine and Mist — Wortley — A Luxurious Meal — Sheffield — A
Search for Quarters — Smoke-room Stories — The Moors Again —
Rocky Scenery — A Fine Prospect — Hathersage — The Grave of
Little John — Castleton and its Wonders — Underground Scenery —
The Pass of the Winyates — A Shivering Mountain — A Dangerous
Bridge— Buxton — A Crowded Town — A Curious Mishap — Over
the Hills— Bakewell and its Old Church— Haddon Hall— An Old-
world Hostel — Nature Tamed — Oker Hill and its Tradition — The
Darley Yew.
Our road out of Leeds was a black one, and led us
past many lari^e collieries, a sight which caused our
man to remark that ' the height of his ambition was
to go down one ' — ambition certainly considerably
varies in different people. The road, I have said, was
a black one ; it was mended entirely with cinders, and
what with the dark dust and the smoke from the
engine pits the very cornfields we passed appeared
to us to have a sombre instead of a golden hue. It
was a grim landscape, all of a subdued grey, and
continued so the whole way to Wakefield.
We had now once more got entangled amongst
the network of manufacturing towns that dot this
portion of the map of Yorkshire all over ; there is
no evading them except by making a long detour.
However, the very necessity of having to pass
through such ugliness only made us relish the fair
green country the more.
AN ARCHAEOLOGICAL RELIC 357
Upon leaving Wakefield we came unexpectedly
across a most interesting- archaeological relic, con-
sisting of an old and very beautiful chantry chapel,
erected right upon the bridge, leading out of the
town, that here crosses the Calder. It is an ex-
quisite bit of masonry mellowed and toned by the
weathering of ages ; it is richly ornamented with
quaint carvings, such as only a mediaeval workman
could produce ; the windows, too, are filled with
elaborate tracery. It is now employed, we learnt,
as a chapel-of-easc to the church. This most pic-
turesque and romantically placed structure was
erected thus by Edward IV. in memory of his father,
who was killed at the battle of Wakefield, and in
which he ordered daily Masses to be said for the
repose of the deceased's soul.
Judging from our mornings stage we were quite
prepared for an uninteresting drive on to Barnsley,
but the country we passed through agreeably dis-
appointed us. Indeed, at one or two places, notably
at two large sheets of water surrounded by still)',
many-tinted woods, it actually reached the beauti-
ful ; but with the exception of the said water the
road was not particularly attractive, nor till we came
well within sight of Barnsley was it to be called
ugly.
When, however, Barnsley came into view, situated
high upon a hill, its character completely changed ;
the green world was a scarred desolation, given over
to coal-pits, tramways, railways, gigantic mills, (S:c.
Upon another hill some distance off we could just
discern Bradford, or at least the tops of the tall
358 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
chimneys belonging to the place, for the houses of
the town were lost in a haze of smoke.
' Black Barnslcy ' is a title that town is locally
known by in Yorkshire, and all I can say is, it
deserves it. Externally, our inn was in keeping
with the place — a plain, gloomy-looking structure —
but, internally, we were well cared for ; our room was
comfortable, linen clean, the food good, well cooked,
and sent up tastefully to table ; and without, our
horses had the luxury of loose boxes and a plentiful
supply of excellent corn. Barnsley evidently is not
a place to be judged by outside appearances. The
only drawback to our capital inn was the fact that
there were some steam mills or works of some sort
near by, and as these were running all night, the
continued racket was not conducive to repose. How-
ever, in spite of this one drawback we rested fairly
well, and the next morning saw us once again on
our way.
Over night we had had our maps out, and dis-
cussed the homeward route. We had determined
to have a look at the Peak country of Derbyshire
on our way, but found that to do so would necessi-
tate our once more going through Sheffield. Now
we had most positively determined when we last left
that metropolis of noise, blackness, and wealth — a
town that suggested to us perpetual motion and
everlasting din — that nothing would induce us to
return there. So much for our determinations — see
us this fine morning Shcfheldwards bound. It was
a misty day for our journey ; occasionally the mists
would rise and reveal distant peeps of a hilly and
AN IMPOSING S/GNPOST. 359
well-wooded countr)-, with a sparkle of runninir
water, and the gleam of a quiet pool, hut, (piickly
descending again, all would be blotted out. It was
a tantalizing day, and just because there was none,
we felt an intense craving for a horizon, a longing
for a distance for the eye to rove over. Still, the
mists lent a pleasing mystery to the drive.
On our way we noticed by the roadside, looming
up before us, silent, dim, and spectral, a tall obelisk,
arriving at which we dismounted to observe it
better. The result of our investigations was not very
wonderful : we discovered upon it the words ' To
Wentworth Castle, 3 miles, 1776,' and that was all —
quite a mighty erection for the purpose ; there is
such a thing as consistency, even in sign-posts.
Our road now led us through a well-wooded
park, and rising gradually we eventually emerged in
a bright w^orld of sunshine above the mists. Over-
head was a clear blue sky, below a level sea as of
cotton wool ; in front of us a russet and |)urple con-
tinent of moorlands rose boldly out of this, and here
and there, nearer at hand, were islands of fir-crowned
hills. The effect was curious, and lent a sort of
fairy-like enchantment to our drive.
At the picturesque village of Wortley we pulled
up at a little unostentatious inn and baited our
horses there. On inquiring what we could have in
the way of refreshment for ourselves, the landlady
said if we would just leave it to her she would do
her best for us. Experience has told us, under such
conditions it is well to leave matters with the land-
lady ; consequent!)- we did so, though, judging from
36o A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
the place, we did not expect much. Imai^nne, there-
fore, our surprise, when in due course she, to use
an American expression, ' sprung ' a dinner upon us,
consisting of a dehciously cooked hare, with all
appurtenances, followed by a partridge and most
excellent sweets. Not a bad meal for a little village
inn to provide ; in fact, we could have done very
well without the partridge, having feasted sump-
tuously off the hare, but we made a show of de-
molishing the bird so as to avoid hurting the good
landlady's feelings, who was cook as well as hostess.
We arrived at Sheffield in the evening, and found
the town crowded ; it was the eve of the Cutlers'
Feast we were told, though that information in no
way improved matters for us. In fact, we had a
hard time of it drivinof from one hotel to another in
search of quarters, the search being rendered more
disagreeable by the knowledge that after (supposing
we were so far fortunate) securing rooms for ourselves
we should have to prospect about for our tired horses.
However, not to linger over the dark side of the
picture, in the end we were successful in our search,
and in due course procured comfortable quarters both
for our animals and ourselves.
Durinof the evenino- I strolled into the smoke-
room of the hotel to enjoy a contemplative pipe.
However, I found the room crowded, and a heated
political discussion going on. Presently politics
gave way to a more general conversation ; and
during the course of the evening many were thc^
anecdotes related, mostly in connection with certain
citizens of the town, some well known, others
AN ANECDOTE. 361
obscure. Over these the Yorkshiremen hiu^'^hccl
heartily.
One of these many stories I must try and find
room for, as a fair sample of the quality of the en-
tertainment ; and, as I shall give no names, whether
the tale be true or not I can hurt no one by retail-
ing it. It appears that a certain worthy inhabitant
of Sheffield, who had risen from small beeinnines to
be quite wealth)-, and a man noted for his saving
habits, was one day dining at a restaurant in London.
Upon leaving, after paying his bill, he was reminded
that the amount did not include the waiter. Where-
upon the North-countryman exclaimed, walking out,
' Ah ! but aa didn't eat the waiter ! '
A suo;ixestion of sunshine filteriniT: throuj/h the
smoke-laden atmosphere gave promise of a fine day,
and tempted us to make an early start. We trotted
quickly along the busy streets of Sheffield, and
through its extensive and growing suburbs into the
open country beyond. Once you are free from the
town, the country around Sheffield is very beautiful,
and even more than beautiful — it is romantic. Soon
our road began to mount, then it was level and fair
going for some distance, though at a good elevation,
which afforded us charming peeps of hills beyond
hills, all well wooded. Presently the moors began
to appear — the glorious purple moorlands — the ex-
hilaratinfr air of which makes one feel as li[rht-hearted
and frolicsome as a schoolboy just out from his
lessons.
Here we noticed a curious effect, and wondered
if any others had cvcm" observed it too. Right on
362 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
the extreme edee of the moor was a remarkable
clump of trees, standing darkly out against the
white sky ; these had been formed by the bleak
winds into an exact resemblance of a huge griffin
proper, looking down over the valley upon us :
wings, feet, body, and all the likeness was complete.
Now after a tedious two miles of stiffish collar-
work we emerged right on the top of the moors,
and a goodly prospect was before us. It was a
glorious bit of moorland — a glowing expanse of
purple heather, bestrewn with weather-scarred rocks,
all grey and lichen-stained ; and here and there we
noticed a brilliant yellow flower, whose name was
unknown to us, and many a bright bit of gorse,
whose ' deathless bloom ' told out well amongst the
green, and grey, and purple around. The peculiar
odour of the gorse, too ; how fragrant it seemed !
wafted to us on the open air (though so sickly in a
room) — an odour I can only liken to a mixed scent
of cocoanut and pineapple. As we drove along we
noticed many bilberry wires, with their wax-like
leaves and wine-stained fruit — a fruit in tarts not to
be despised.
Passing on these bleak heights an old stone-built
inn, with mullioned windows and extensive stabling,
yclept Fox-house Inn — evidently a relic of the old
coaching days — we came to some fine rock scenery.
The road descended, and, crossing a grey, weather-
worn, one-arch bridge, we found above us a series of
rocky heights ; these assumed strange shapes, and
almost anything earthly — or for that matter, un-
earthly—could be conjured out of them by the
\iiiil<
LITTLE JOHN'S GRA VE. 363
imaj^ination. One massive Ijlock of stone so
curiously projected as to form a gigantic toad, with
leering eyes, and mouth wide open ready to swallow
us up, phaeton and all. It was a weird, wild bit of
scenery, such as Salvator Rosa would have gloried
to depict. Suddenly came d bend in the road,
and what a view was before us ; it was as though
the world in front had dropped down ! A charming
and extensive prospect met our gaze — a valley
stretching far away, bounded by emerald-hued slopes,
with leaq-ues of woods and fields of waving orrain,
with farmliouses peeping forth every here and there,
and alonor the vale a windinfj river flowed like a
ribbon of silver. The whole panorama was backed
by a glimmer of blue hills, and looked very peaceful
and mellow, all in tone under the soft gloom of a
clouded sky. Long we lingered on this spot, drink-
ing in the beauty and inspiration of the scene.
Descending now we had a delightful run down
hill to the sleepy little hamlet of Hathersage, a
village that boasts of having afforded both a cradle
and a grave to the famous Little John, Robin
Hood's sturdy henchman. In the churchyard his
grave is shown, consisting of two upright stones
about ten feet apart. Antiquarians have, of course,
disputed over the fact of his being buried here ;
indeed, some in their opposition to the legend have
gone so far as to say he never existed at all, or, if
there really was such a being, state he was executed
at York. Rather a curious kind of argiunent. How-
ever, for once it appears the evidence in favour of
tradition is stronger than that against it, and so we
564 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
agreed to accept the story as true. Besides, there
is or was an aged woman in the parish who declares
her father told her he remembered distinctly seeing
Little John's green cap and bow hanging up in the
chancel of the church, and, after that statement, who
could doubt the fact ?
A pleasant journey in the gathering twilight
broueht us to Castleton, As we drove alono^, the
incense of burning wood and peat came wafted to
us on the evening air, and now and again also the
warm resinous odour of pine trees. Country per-
fumes as well as sights and sounds are very
refreshing to those long immured in smoky towns.
Castleton, with its background of dark blue hills,
standing out sharply defined against the luminous
sky, its old ruined keep towering boldly over the
litde town, as though keeping watch and ward over
the place, struck us as we approached to it as being
a very romantic spot. The long low inn, with rustic
seats in front, and tiny flower beds, looked both
picturesque and inviting ; and, moreover, we found
the stabling was excellent.
We were up early next morning, and a scramble
up to the old castle gave us a good appetite for our
breakfast, after which meal we again proceeded on
an exploring expedition. The famous Peak Cavern
we could not well leave unseen, although we felt we
had done almost enough in underground groping at
Matlock, so we secured the guide and a boy to carry
candles and blue lights to illuminate the cavern, or
rather caverns, for there are a series of them. We
spared neither time nor expense, and listened atten-
MINES AND CAVERNS.
tively to all our guide had to say, but, truth to tell,
we were not sorry to get out into the da\'lig]it
and warm sunshine again. In fact, we considered
tlie entrance to the cavern, which is to be seen for
nothing, the best part of it. This is very fine, not to
say impressive ; it comes upon you suddenly at the
end of a narrow and gloomy ravine, and consists of
a gigantic arch right in the face of the almost per-
pendicular limestone cliff, which, though steep, is not
bare of vegetation. Out from the darkness of this
mighty natural porch tlows a limpid, leaping stream,
as though hurrying away from the gloom into the
glad sunlight beyond.
Castleton is certainly peculiar in one respect : the
sights there appear to be as much under as above
ground. There are caverns of different kinds to be
seen, curious mines to explore, and sunless rivers
and falls beneath the surface of mother earth.
Caverns at the best are somewhat monotonous
affairs, so we concluded we would leave the others
here unseen, and imagine what they were like,
though the Blue John Mine (known to the Romans)
and the Speedwell Mine are both unique in their
way — the one a vast chamber of glistering spar, the
other of a sombre order, to reach which you have
to make a journey in a boat along a subterranean
canal for some distance, when )ou reach a grand
cavern in which is a reputed fathomless pool.
Our next ramble was to the pass of the W'in-
yates, literally the Wind-gates — a high-sounding
title surely. The spot, a narrow mountain ravine,
is picturesque and romaiUic cnougli, but scarcely to
366 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
be called grand or sublime ; at least, It did not appear
very dreadful to us under the bright sunshine. But
the day and hour were hardly suited to the scene ;
possibly in the uncertain murky gloaming, or in
gloomy weather, under a wild lowering sky, when
the winds are blowing fiercely down the enclosed
rift, howling and whistling in a fitful melancholy
manner the while, it may appear very different, and
seem even majestic and awful. Guide-book writers
seem to have exhausted all the suitable and unsuit-
able adjectives they could find in describing this
spot (why especially selected for its sublimity and
awesomeness over many other similar and even finer
rocky passes in Derbyshire is beyond our compre-
hension), and we could not but feel it had been over-
praised ; truly, it may be, that having heard a great
deal about the Winyates was the real cause of our
disappointment. Fame that goes before is as trying
to scenery as to men.
The weather continuing delightfully fine, in the
afternoon, after a further inspection of the wonders
of Castleton, we decided to make a short stage of
some dozen miles on to Buxton — a comparatively
short journey, but by no means an easy one for the
horses on that account ; indeed, twenty miles of
ordinary give and take road would have been far
less exhausting to them. At once on leaving
Castleton the quality of the way began to assert
itself — it was stiff and continuous collar work; during
the mount we made continual stops to rest our
animals, drawing the phaeton right across the road,
and placing large stones under the wheels, stones
A SHIVERING MOUNTAIN. 367
that had doubtless been often enough used before
for the same purpose. Looking- backwards we had
a glorious view of the valley we had left, and the
little village of Castleton. Nearer at hand, to the
right of us, stood the famous Mam Tor, 1,300 feet
in elevation, one of the highest mountains of the
Peak. Tills Tor the ostler told us is locally known
by the name of the Shivering Mountain, on account
of a strange peculiarity connected with it. It ap-
pears that the hill consists principally of a kind of
loose shale, which rapidly becomes disintegrated,
and portions crumbling away are constantly trickling
or sliding down the face of the slopes and precipices.
In winter time, after the breaking up of a frost, this
crumbling business is most pronounced. However,
when we passed the mountain was quiescent ; it was
not in a shivering mood, so we failed to see this
wonder of Castleton. Nature was evidently in a
bad humour that day, for another curious sight, in
the shape of an ebbing and flowing well, we passed
on our way was not working either ; it was very
provoking, but there was no help for it.
Bare, treeless hills and unlovely hedgeless fields,
w^ith rocks everywhere, a hard-featured landscape,
russet and grey the chief colouring, such was the
country w^e traversed that day. And to match the
scene, a rugged road and a wild one was our lot ; it
was all up and down hill, with the brake in constant
requisition.
Just before reaching Buxton, we had to pass
under a railway bridge, on approaching which we
noticed a man on tlic to}), wiklly gesticulating to us
368 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
and shouting as well. We deemed at first he was
mad, but thinking it possible he might be sane, we
pulled up to see what all the commotion was about.
* Whatever is the matter?' we shouted to him. ' We
are repairing the bridge,' the gesticulating individual
replied, ' and it won't be safe to drive under it for
a few minutes.' Hardly had he finished speaking
when a large iron bolt fell down into the roadway
with quite a crash. This little matter over, we were
allowed to proceed, but we had no idea before that
there was any danger of this kind to be apprehended
in passing under these viaducts.
There is no need for me to waste space in
describing such a well-known spot as Buxton ; I
have no desire to enter into competition with guide-
book writers, but I may say a word in praise of
the fine bracing air of this famous spa, which, ele-
vated as it is some i,ooo feet above the sea-level,
is still protected from the cold winds by the barrier
hills around. The atmosphere is wonderfully elastic
and invigorating, it has all the sharpness and sparkle
of champagne, and you can indulge in any quantity
of it with no worse result than an alarming ap-
petite.
We remained over a day at Buxton to give our
horses a rest. Somehow the visitors at our hotel
during that short time managed to learn all about
our driving tour, and moreover appeared to take a
great interest in it, and we were quite besieged with
questions as to roads, the distance we did each day,
what sort of accommodation we found on the way,
how the horses stood the journey, &c., &c., questions
ENGLISH ROADS. 369
so often repeated by each party that they became a
little monotonous ; but they proved how in this day
of railways there is still a deep love left for the
road, the only natural way of travelling and of really
seeing" a country. There is all the difference in the
vvorld between being conveyed from one place to
another, and travelling between the same spots.
Indeed, driving so much over the deserted coaching
roads of England, we could not but feel how very
much the modern railway traveller loses. What
glorious prospects do not those old roads afford —
peeps of hill and dale, of wooded height and tum-
bling river, of quaint old-world villages and comfort-
able looking rural hostelries ! A day's drive almost
anywhere in England, and you will have added to
your memory a hundred lovely bits and landscape
revcilations only to be had by the wanderer by road.
Truly our ancestors who journeyed by coach, accord-
ing to our present ideas, made haste slowly ; but
after all, though an excellent thing in its way, speed
is not everything in this world ; we are glad to
hurry to our destination because we take no pleasure
in the railway rush. If our ancestors went slower,
they certainly had the opportunity of seeing and
admiring the beauties, and of observing the charac
teristics, of the country they passed through.
We had a fine morning on which to continue our
journey — a day of cloud and soft grey gloom, of
alternate sunshine and peeps of bright blue sky, a
day that died in a glory of melting rubies and gold.
Autumn is the time for gorgeous sunsets and cloud
effects. W^e endeavoured to make an early start,
Br.
370 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
but had some trouble to procure our bill. However,
our account was forthcoming^ at last, and duly settled,
and we did not grumble at having been kept waiting,
for it was very reasonable.
The road out of Buxton began well ; it led us
along a romantic narrow rock-girt valley, the sun
lighting up the projecting crags and promontories
with a rich warm colouring ; the contrast of light and
shade, the combination of cliff and foliage, hill and
river, was most pleasing. The scene would have been
almost perfect had not the railway found a too easy
and ready-made course along the glen ; the straight
line and embankments of the iron way were out of
harmony with the apparent seclusion of the spot. I
wonder if the enterprising railway promoters and
engineers will leave a single Derbyshire vale in peace,
and as Nature left it! Even Dove Dale has been
threatened.
Spinning along the bit of level road here at a
merry pace, we nearly left our man altogether be-
hind. He had got down to make some slight altera-
tion in the harness, and in remounting his foot had
slipped, and he fell on his back into the roadway.
We did not notice the accident, and a train coming
along at the moment, we failed also to hear him cry
out ; the consequence was we drove on without him.
Had it not been that we chanced to look round pre-
sently and noticed our groom was absent from his
place, we should most assuredly have gone on thus.
As it was, we had proceeded some distance. Return-
ing in search, we found the poor fellow running
along, very hot and very dusty. And here I may
A MOORLAND HAMLET. 371
remark, driving a pair of horses, with a lady, a man
is not only a luxury but a necessity. I have driven
without one, but it only made a toil of a pleasure. It
is not always agreeable on arriving late and tired at
your journey's end, and hungry probably as well, to
have to wait and watch the horses being groomed,
and to see they have their proper feeds (ostlers must
be looked after in this respect or your horses will
suffer), nor is it a supreme pleasure to have to be up
seeing to the same in the early morning, when per-
chance you would rather be inspecting the town or
the country around where you may have put up.
And, besides, half the enjoyment of such a tour is
the freedom of being able to leave your conveyance
at any moment in the charge of your man, and to do
a little walking, climbing, blackberrying, or whatever
may take your fancy for the moment.
Leaving the valley now our road began to mount;
the scenery grew wilder and bleaker the higher we
rose, the prospect widened, till at last we reached an
elevated height where we appeared to be at ' the top
of everything.' Our e}es wandered over a great ex-
panse : around us were slopes of mighty hills and
moorlands beyond moorlands, melting away till lost
in an azure mystery. Our vision was only limited
by the illimitable blue. Soon we began to descend,
passing through a bleak-looking village with rather
a fine church. It was a puzzle to us why on such a
spot a hamlet was ever built, and how the inhabit-
ants existed or vegetated there. Now the descent
became very severe ; the brake was kept hard on the
whole of the way. To the left the rocks running
r. !; 2
372 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
along the tops of the moors looked more like a series
of fortifications than anything else. As we descended
the scenery became less forbidding : cliffs of limestone
were on either hand, much channelled and weather-
tinted, covered here and there with ivy and creepers,
and well wooded at their bases. And through the
trees we caught the gleam and glitter of a rippling
burn, which splashed and gurgled along as only a
mountain streamlet can, making music to the rust-
line of the trees and the wind.
As we journeyed on gradually the valley widened,
the landscape became more sylvan, fields began to
appear, then cottages and farmhouses, and with every
mile the character of the scenery altered, getting, as
we neared the quaint little old-world village of Ash-
ford- in-the-Water, quite pastoral. The approach to
Ashford between overhanging trees, through which
the sunshine formed elongated patterns of white and
gold on the road, was very beautiful. From here to
Bakcwell the landscape was quite idyllic. At the
Rutland Arms, in the latter town, we found com-
fortable quarters. This inn was famous in the old
coaching days as being one of the best houses be-
tween London and Manchester, and from the general
look of the place, the extensive stabling, &c., we
judged in those bygone times it must have done ' a
roaring business.'
Bakewell possesses an exceedingly fine old church,
an ancient time-worn structure, hoary with the age
of centuries, a bit of architectural beauty, an art
education in itself Into this we wandered. Space
will not [)ermit of any long descri[)tion of the inte-
JIADDON HALL. 373
rior of tliis onnul old rcli<;"iuus edifice. The ricli
Vernon chapel (founded 1360), with its line altar
tombs, interested us most, for here sleep under a
handsome sculptured monument the mortal remains
of ' Sir John Manners, of Haddon, knight, and Dame
Dorothie, his wife.'
Leaving Bakewell, we drove down the Wye Val-
ley, a dale almost, if not quite, as beautiful as its
more famous, or perhaps I should say southern, name-
sake. Presently the old gre)' walls, the weather-worn
towers and turrets of Haddon Hall came into sight
on the hill side, peeping out of a mass of dark green
foliage. What Englishman who has travelled at all
in his own country does not know this grand old
relic of
the old baronial day,
When men lived in a grander way,
With ampler hospitality?
Haddon, with its time-stained walls, speaks in the
presence of the past. For once the reality is more
lovely than fiction, and imagination could not divine
anything half so beautiful.
A certain sum of money judiciously expended
(possibly a sight of the carriage also helped matters,
as tending to show we were respectable) procured
for us a key, and permission to inspect the old place
at our leisure. We were only cautioned ' to be sure
and carefully lock each door after us, as the Duke
(of Rutland, understood) and his party were within.'
Enterlnir one chamber we discovered a table laid for
the Duke's lunch, and servants about waiting. Re-
membering our instructions, we closed and carefully
locked the door after us, forgetting at the moment it
374 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
Avas open when we entered, and it was not till after
we had resumed our wanderings that the thought
struck us that we had locked the servants in, and
possibly His Grace out. However, I presume the
matter was easily put right, for later on in the day
I noticed the Duke making a water-colour sketch
out of doors.
In the grand old ball-room we lingered long, en-
deavouring to picture to ourselves a bright vision of
a certain night many many years ago, when
Tapers shone, and music breathed,
And beauty led the ball.
And that fair girl that seems so madly merry, easily
noticed amid the gay crowd of high-born dames and
courtly knights for her rare beauty, she is Dorothy
Vernon. Just as the dancing, laughter, and mirth
are at the highest, she steals silently from out the
room, and is away with her own true love. But a
truce to romance; the long oak-wainscoted room is
silent enough and deserted now, and as we look
around, and know what is and what has been, we
ask ourselves
Where are the high and stately dames
Of princely Vernon's bannered hall ?
And where the knights, and what their names,
Who led them forth to festival ?
At H addon our feet press upon hallowed, haunted
ground. Much h^s changed since Dorothy Vernon
eloped from hence in a romantic true-love style, but
the s\m shines through the great mullionecl windows
with their quaint diamond panes, just as it did cen-
turies ago, and without it rests lovingly on the grey
NATURE TAMED. 375
old pile. The last view we had of I laddon, as we
look(^d back, was a charming'- one, its ancient walls
and many windows being gilded and lighted up by
the warm rays of the low-lying sun.
On now we proceeded to Rowsley, where we
halted a minute to glance at the famous Peacock
Inn there, a delightful bit of old-world architecture,
with its many-gabled roof, its stacks of chimneys,
its quaint mullioned windows with their diamond
leaded panes, its antique doorway with the curiously
carved peacock in stone, and date beneath of 1653.
Well known to both anglers and artists is the old
Peacock.
Then we crossed ovef an old time-toned, wea-
ther-stained bridge, suggestive of the past and the
cheery mail-coach. The valley now began to widen
out, and presently we reached Stancliff, the residence
of the world-renowned Sir Joseph Whitworth, in-
ventor of the rifle ordnance that is named after him.
Sir Joseph has tamed Nature. He found here a wild,
rocky, fir-crowned crag; this he has planted, smoothed
down, and laid out in gravel walks with rustic seats,
with here and there a miniature fall and a pool.
But it struck us this taming of Nature was not a
success, the spot has too much the look of ' a place
to spend a happy day' in. Rough Nature will not
stand having her hair combed, any more than a wild
picturesque village lad will.
Now Oker Hill came into sight; a strange iso-
lated mound, standing boldly out in the centre of
the valley, it appeared to us against all geological
theory. Upon the top of this are two trees, telling
376 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
out plainly against the sky, and connected with
these trees is a tradition. Many years ago two
brothers met there and bade each other good-bye on
the spot before going abroad to seek their fortunes
in foreign climes. As a memorial of their parting
they planted each a tree ; one of these has flourished,
the other, though growing, is comparatively a weakly
thino- ; and so it is said the brothers fared — one
prospered and grew rich, the other failed.
We now drove to the ancient and much-restored
church of Darley, close to which is a famous yew
tree, said to be one of the oldest and largest in the
kingdom.
Of vast circumference and gloom profound,
This solitary tree ! a living thing
Produced too slowly ever to decay,
Of form and aspect too magnificent
To be destroyed.
Then we proceeded to a friend's house, where a
hearty welcome awaited us, and where we were en-
tertained with right good Derbyshire hospitality, all
the more appreciated after our long wanderings away
from kith and kin.
Resting here awlille from our travels, we took
the opportunity of inspecting on foot, more closely,
some of the many beauties of this picturesque part
of a picturesque county, and we came to the con-
clusion that within a dozen miles of this place tliere
are enough of scenic wonders, pleasant spots, his-
toric mansions, secluded glens, lone moorlands,
caverns, and other strange freaks of Nature, to last
any man a lifetime.
377
CHAPTER XXI.
Summer and Autumn — The 'Via Gellia' — Tissington and its Well-
dressing — Dove Dale— A Beautiful River— A Moonlight Drive —
Loughborough — A Foggy Day — Leicester — Market Harborough —
Naseby — Daventry — An Old Inn — A Picturesque Interior^ — An
Ancient Chair — Old-world Hostels — Stony Stratford — Recollec-
tions of Scenery — Telford's Road— Home.
The gay young summer had reached the maturity
of autumn. Rich and wonderful were the colours
she wore —green trees were touched with orange,
red, and yellow. The year was growing old, but
she was growing beautiful also. Some there are who
call autumn sad, but I cannot see wherein the sad-
ness lies, save that we know the winter is approach-
ing. The colours of autumn are not the colours of
sadness ; yellow and crimson and orange are not
mournful tints. The soft beauties of the tender
greens of spring, refreshing and lovely though they
are, can hardly compare to the golden glories of the
later year. Ask an artist which he deems best ?
Poets may sing of the spring, but the countless tints
of the waning summer are a revelation of beauty,
a miracle of colourino-. Then the woods are cror-
geous with burning reds and yellows, the mountains
are clothed with purples, and golden cornfields like-
amber seas are wavinij' all aroimd. All Katiire.
378 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
indeed, seems gay and bright, not sad or sombre.
Yet cold, dull, cheerless winter is at hand. Aye !
that is why we deem the waning of the summer so
sorrowful.
But as we journeyed along past the many-
coloured woods and purple-tinted hills, we thought
the autumn time surpassingly beautiful ; there was a
slight sharpness, too, in the air which was pleasant.
Continuing on our way from Darley, we reached
Cromford in due course, and here we left the main
track and proceeded up the Via Gellia, a picturesque
road winding upwards between wood-embowered
hills, with a pretty stream for company. This path
was constructed, many years ago, by a certain Mr.
Gellia, and was called after him. Alas ! for fame ;
when asking our way to the valley, a native could
not understand what place it was we wanted ; sud-
denly he grew enlightened, ' Oh ! it's the Via Jelly
you wants,' he exclaimed, placing particular emphasis
on the Jelly.
Via Jelly or Via Gellia, however, is an exceed-
ingly pretty road ; we were sorry when we emerged
from its wooded, glen-like seclusion and struck upon
an open, bleak, moorland-looking country, where we
had the misfortune to cast a shoe. A look round
showed us a village not far off, on a hill, and to this
we walked in the hopes of finding a blacksmith
able to do the necessary. The village, the name of
which I have forgotten, struck us as being one of
the bleakest and most hard-featured collection of
stones and mortar we had ever set eyes upon, wind-
swept in all directions, even the hardy grass seemed
AN ANTIQUE CEREMONY. 379
to have a struggle to exist here. Still, we managed
to get oiir horse re-shod, and proceeded on our way
rejoicing. We had presently a little stream to f(jrd,
then a stiff mount, and we came to the picturesque
rural hamlet of Tissinorton, famous for its well-
dressing. There are five springs in the village, and
one day a year these are profusely decorated with
flowers and greenery, after which a special service
is held in the church. This interesting ceremony is
of very ancient origin, and is one of a very few
similar practices of the far-off olden time remaining
to us.
Many precious rites
And customs of our rural ancestry
Are gone or stealing from us : this I hope
Will last for ever.
A simple, peaceful spot is Tissington, and very
charming and reposeful did it look as we drove
along, with its picturesque cottages and quaint, old-
fashioned gardens, bright with the old-world flowers
our ancestors so dearly loved. And how lazily the
blue smoke curled up from the chimneys, and how
fragrant was the odour of burning wood and peat
that came to us now and again !
Arriving at the comfortable hostelrie, the Izaak
Walton, at Dove Dale, a supreme pleasure awaited
us. We had never seen this famous valley before,
but had heard so much about it that we quite ex-
pected and were prepared to be disappointed with
it. However, disappointment was not for us. In-
deed, it far exceeded in beauty all our imaginings.
It is a spot to dream a summer's clay away in, a spot
to be remembered l)ut not described. Neither pen
380 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
nor pencil, nor both combined, could do justice to
the rare beauty of Dove Dale.
Among the many beautiful rivers of fair England
few can equal — none can surpass — the unpretentious
Dove. Its banks are v^ell wooded ; it is not a
slothful stream though it is a fishful one, and the
scenery through which it flows is both varied and
grand. Here and there it sleeps for a while in a
pleasant dreamy manner ; in its merry youth it
tumbles and gambols from rock to rock in a quiet
musical fashion, anon it urges its impetuous way
past many an imposing boulder, again it glides
smoothly along, then, as if weary of tranquillity, it
rushes on its course in a lively, sportive mood.
Never in its whole journey is it languid or sluggish
for a moment. Artists and fishermen love it well —
the latter too well, in fact, to afford good sport to so
many.
In the evening we once more resumed our
wanderings, bound for Derby. The sun was setting
in a golden glory midst ruby-tinted clouds behind the
grey-blue hills when we started. The moon, too, was
up, so we knew when the daylight died we should
have her soft silvery light for guidance and for
company.
We were detained the whole of the next morning
at Derby by the rain. The look-out was wet and
cheerless to a degree, but a rising barometer gave us
hopes of being able to make a start sometime during
the day, and certainly enough towards noon the
leaden sky broke up, patches of bright blue showed
themselves, and we ordered the horses to, and were
A FOGGY DRIVE. 381
presently bowling" merrily alonc^ the wet and shininc^
roads. It was a pleasant drive throucdi a pleasant
country on to Lough borouL;li, a town that struck us
as consisting almost entirely of man)- narrow and
crooked streets.
We left Loughborough in a dense white fog,
owing to which we had some difficulty in finding our
way, and tlie horn was in frequent use to avoid a pos-
sible collision. The effect of the mist in magnifying
objects was very curious — trees and houses loomed
up suddenly before us of gigantic dimensions, and
everything looked ghostlike and unreal. The silence,
t(io, was very marked, and, except by noticing tlic
traces, we could not tell whether we were on level or
hilly ground. The road was a good going one, how-
ever, but the scenery was left entirely to our ima-
gination.
As we drove into Leicester the mist turned to
rain, and we were glad to get under shelter at the
first hotel, and out of the way of the tramways, which
by no means tend to make driving a pleasure in this
town. It will be remembered that Richard III.
slept here on his way to Bosworth Field ; the house,
however, in which he stopped has long since been
pulled down. But what Leicester was most cele-
brated for in the olden times was its abbey. This was
a house of great renown and wealth ; man\- of tlie
English monarchs rested within its walls on their
travels, amongst others Richard 11. and his queen,
and were sumptuously entertained there, but what
rendcrcxl it c-specially famous was the tlcath wilhin
its sanctuary of Cardinal W'olsey in 1530.
!82 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
From Leicester to Market Harborough the
mist and rain still kept us unwelcome company all
the way, and we were not sorry when our stage came
to an end and we found ourselves before a cheery
fire in a cosy sitting-room of our inn. Market
"Harborough we discovered to be a pleasant little
one-streeted town ; our hotel was a comfortable old-
fashioned one, with an ostler to match— an entertain-
ing individual who was a stable hand here in the old
coaching days, and who told us he remembered the
time when over forty coaches passed and repassed
each way. ' Then the place was lively,' he said, and
life worth living, now the railways have spoilt every-
thing.'
Market Harborough, I have said, is a one-
streeted town. In past times the buildings occupied
no more ground than they actually stood upon, and
there was an ancient proverb to the effect that ' AH
the grass in Harborough mead won't a parson's
gander feed.' This little town was the head-quarters
of Charles I. before the fatal fight of Naseby. The
king planted his army in a very strong position on a
hill near by, but Prince Rupert, with his usual im-
petuosity, would advance to meet the enemy, and
fought consequently at a disadvantage.
From Market Harborough we took a cross
country route to Daventry, passing the historic batde
ground of Naseby on our way, a peaceful enough
looking spot now.
At Daventry we came upon Telford's famous
Holyhead road, which we followed all the way to
London. And a grand road it is, with easy gradients
A PROnLEAf. 383
and fine scenery. This road was the work of that
famous engineer, and was paid for and constructed
by Parliament. Others throughout the kingdom,
notably the mail road from London to Edinburgh,
were planned and would have been carried out, but
just then unfortunately railways became talked about,
and nothing more was done. Here we found a ram-
bling old inn, that had evidently seen better days, and
a pleasant chatty landlord. We were the only visitors
in the place, and it appeared to us that travellers in
these parts were few and far between ; hovv ever
such hotels exist at all — as they do throughout the
country — is a problem not easily solved. Local
requirements can go but a short way to keep up
such establishments ; how, then, are they supported ?
We saw nobody during our stay but the worthy host
and a civil, obliging servant, a sort of maid of all work ;
possibly there was no hostess or other servant.
Towcester was our next resting-place — a som-
nolent, chiserted old town, where everybody seemed
half asleep, and the silence was marked. The clatter
of our horses' hoofs and the general rattle we made
driving into the place appeared strangely loud and
disturbing. There were two or three hotels, but
none looked particularly inviting, though they had
all evidently been of considerable importance in the
old coaching days, judging from their arch doorways
and ample yards beyond — yards surrounded of old
by extensive stabling, now going to sad decay, or
converted into small tenements and tumbledown
outbuildings.
Of the dilfcn-nt hoslclrics, we selected the one
384 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
that appeared to us to be the most promising, as far
as we could judge from outside appearances ; enter-
ing which we found ourselves within a very ancient
building, v»nth rooms of low-beamed ceilings, and
quaint old-fashioned diamond-paned windows, a
picturesque interior, with genuine antique furniture,
somewhat like the house, the worse for age and
wear, but solid and honest looking, and therefore
pleasing to the eye. In our sitting-room was a quaint
old carved oak chair, in which we were told Charles I.
had sat, which might or might not be true, but the
chair was old enough and respectable enough for
the tradition. This chair, judging from the history
we were given of it, and the notable persons who
were said to have owned it from time to time, must
have had rather a remarkable career. It was a
genuine antique, at any rate, well designed and
curiously carved, and very different from the general
run of Wardour Street rubbish. Indeed, we offered
to purchase it, but we were told it was an heirloom
and not for sale.
Soundly we slept that night in spite of our old-
world surroundings, and we awoke to a glorious
morning, a morning of soft sunshine and gende
breeze, one of those days that make it a sin to be
indoors, and so we arranged for an early start. In
fact, our hotel rather depressed us ; it was somewhat
a gloomy abode, and our rooms were of a sombre
and depressing order. The fresh air of the free
open country and the bright cheery sunlight were a
pleasant change from the close, stuffy rooms.
It was a pleasant drive on to Stony Stratford,
OUT-DOOR PICTURES. 385
through an essentially English-looking landscape, a
gentle undulating country of rich green meadows, of
wavinof fields of trolden q-rain, of contented looking-
homesteads and cottages, with here and there an
old grey church tower peeping forth bounded by a
dreamy distance of circling blue. We met as we
journeyed along slowly crawling harvest teams and
waggons laden with ripe yellow corn ; and more
than once we pulled up and went a-blackberrying,
much to our enjoyment, amongst the tangled
brambles of the delightfully neglected hedgerows.
Altogether it was a road suggestive of homeliness
and rural content, a road that gave us a succession
of rustic pictures and delightful prospects long to be
remembered.
It is not only at the time a scene pleases, there
is the after gratification, when sitting by the fireside
in gloomy winter, miles away from the spot, of re-
calling many a bright sunny picture of what one has
seen, sweet memories that live in the mind for ever.
Livincr so much out of doors, in close communion
with Nature in all her many moods, we had learnt
the secret of obtaining a vast amount of enjoyment
out of our commonplace everyday surroundings.
At Stony Stratford we found another old-world
inn, but of a more cheerful description than the one
at Towcester. Here we made our mid-day halt, and
in the afternoon proceeded on to Fenny Stratford.
From here we proceeded by a hilly road, which
afforded us when on the high ground glorious pros-
pects of a far extending wooded country, on to
Dunstable, just before arriving at which town we
CC
386 A DRIVE THROUGH ENGLAND.
passed through a long and deep cutting through the
chalk hills, possibly the most extensive bit of road
levelline in the kingdom. We could still trace where
the old way had laboriously climbed the steep ridge
before this improvement had been carried out under
that famous engineer of pre-railway times, Telford.
St. Albans was our last resting place away from
home, and the knowledge that the next day would
end our most enjoyable rovings made us feel quite
sorrowful and depressed.
In describing our wanderings, my difficulty has
been that of the artist, who cannot represent all he
sees ; the task is what to omit. So in our most de-
lightful tour, each day we saw so much of interest,
so many changing scenes, did I attempt to describe
all, many volumes would be required instead of one.
Yet the task of leaving out so much of what is in-
teresting and beautiful, without even a remark, is no
easy matter. Any one week of our drive gave us
enough experiences, sights, and scenes to fill a book
alone. I can only hope to have entered somewhat
into the spirit of our journey ; we alone who took it
can see all, and know how poor and inadequate must
any description be. We have traversed through as
beautiful country as the world can show — the most
beautiful we thought, and still so think — we have
seen old abbeys, ruined castles, moated manor houses,
stately halls, and quaint old-world towns and villages.
We have taken our ease at delightful old-fashioned
inns of the olden days, inns built for comfort above
all ; we have climbed heathery hills and wild moor-
lands ; through rich pastoral lands, by silvery lake
A THOUSAND MILES OF BEAUTY. 387
and gloomy tarn, by impetuous torrents and placid
rivers our course has laid.
Such a journey of a thousand miles of varied
beauty and old romance could be taken in no other
country. Peaceful, homelike, mellow England, fair
thou art all lovers of beauty know, but how surpass-
ingly fair only those can tell who have day by day
wandered along thy forsaken country roads and
rural lanes, far from busy towns !
And now, kind reader, our rovings are over, my
work of love is done. I have only to bid you Fare-
well !
INDEX.
Abbeys :
Bolton, 346-349
Easby, 33(>-339
Fountains, 341-342
Furness, 183-187
Ambergate, 104
Appleby, 291-295
Ashby-de-la Zouch, 84-91
Ashford, 372
Bakewell, 372
Barnard Castle, 313-316
Barnsley, 357
Belle Isle, 199-201
Belper, 103-104
Bisham Abbey, 22
Blenheim, 41
Borrowdale, 234-237
Bowes, 313
Bowness, 198
Bray Church, 13
B rough, 296-306
Buttermcre, 242-243
Buxton, 367-368
Carlisle, 274-277
Cartmel Church, 180-182
Castles :
Appleby, 292
Ashby-de-la-Zouch, 89-90
Barnard, 314-316
Bowes, 313
Brough, 297-298
Castles (continued) :
Brougham, 286-287
Dacre, 256-257
Hare wood, 353
Johnson, 263
Knaresborough, 344
Penrith, 285
Richmond, 337-338
Windsor, 12
Castleton, 364-367
Catterick Bridge, 325-336
Chapel House, 46
Chesterfield, 136
Claphani, 163, 165-166
Coniston, 210
Countess's Pillar, 288-289
Coventry, 72-76
Cromford, Vale of, 105-106
Dallam Tower, 174
Darley, 376
Daventry, 382
Derby, 98-100, 380
Dotheboys Hall, 312
Dove Dale, 379-380
Druids' Circle, 246-248
Dunmail Raise, 223
Dunstable, 3S5
Eamont Bridge, 257-259
Ecclefcchan, 270
Eden, \'alc of, 289
39°
INDEX.
Falls :
Airey Force, 255-256
Dungeon Gill, 218
Lodore, 232
Fox Hall, 320-322
Foxhouse Inn, 362
Fox Memorial, 81
Grange, 177-180
Great Marlow, 20
Greta Bridge, 313
Gretna Green, 273
Giggleswick Well, 162
Haddon Hall, 373-375
Halifax, 150-152
Hardwick Hall, 129-136
Harewood, 352-354
Harrogate, 343
Hart's Horn Tree, 289
Hathersage, 363
Hawkshead, 208-209
Hesket, 279-282
Honister Pass, 239
Huddersfield, 148-149
Ilkley, 350
Keighley, 156-157
Keswick, 230
King Arthur's Round Table, 257
Kirkby Lonsdale, 167-169
Kirtlebridge, 270-272
Knaresborough, 344-34^
Lady Holm, 202
Lakes, &c. :
BleaTarn, 216-217
Bowscale Tarn, 249
Brothers' Water, 253
Coniston, 209
Der\ventwater, 230-231
Grasmere, 219-220
Langdale Tarn, 215
Thirlmere, 228-229
Ullswater, 251
Windermere, 191, 203
Leeds, 355
Leicester, 381
Levins Hall, 175
Little John's Grave, 363
Lockerby, 265
Londonderry, 340
Long Compton, 50
Loughborough, 381
Low Wood, 202-204
Matlock, 107-119
Market Harborough, 382
Milnthorpe, 170-173
Moffat, 260-262
Mountains, &c. :
Blencathara, 249
Coniston Old Man, 209
Crich Hill, 121
Eagle Crag, 229
Hartfell, 263
Helm Crag, 223
Helvellyn, 227
Honister Crag, 238-239
Langdale Pikes, 216-217
Mam Tor, 367
Oker Hill, 357
Raven's Crag, 229
Scawfell Pike, 279
Skiddaw, 244
Stybarrow Crag, 252
Newby Bridge, 189
Newlands, Vale of, 243-244
Nuneaton, 79
Otley, 352
Oxford, 35
Peak Railway, 107
Penistone, 144-146
Penrith, 283-286
Portinscale, 230
Rere Cross, 308-309
Ripon, 341
INDEX.
391
Rivers :
Brathay, 206
Uove, 380
Greta, 319
Lune, 169
Rothay, 206
Swale, 325
Tees, 317-31^
Rokeby, 319
RoUich Stones, 45
Rowsley, 375
Strid, the, 349
Stoke Poijis, 12
Stony Stratford, 384-385
Temple Sowerby, 290
Threlkeld, 248
Tissington, 379
Tovvcester, 383-384
Tredington, 67
Ulverston, 182-187
SeatoUer, 236
Settle, 160-162
Sheffield, 136-140
Slough, 9-1 1
Smeathwaite, 229
Spital Inn, 31 1
St. Albans, 386
Stancliff, 375
Via Gellia, 378
Wharfe, Valley of, 351
Wharncliffe, 143
Wingfield Manor, 124-1:
Woodstock, 37-39
Wortley, 359
Wyngates, 365-366
Wythburn, 225
LONDON : TKINTUD BV
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
AND PARLIAMENT STREET