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 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\ 
 
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 \_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